#proper file next time or an exasperated sigh

[lockandkeyhyena]

so stressed about school i feel like im going to throw up but at least im not having another derealisation attack so theres that

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Summary: a development on a mission means it's time to move on.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

.

.

.

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @lol-you-thought @akumune@xxboesefrauxx @enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86 @darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

[kxmssblog]

5.

Il consulente

Featuring:

Your family has worked as the mafia group go-to financial advisors and consultants. When a hit is sent out, by a rogue mafia group, your entire family s wiped out. You are left with only your brother. The EXO take you under their protection, regardless of your protests to want to leave the mafia world behind, along with your troubled memories.

Minseok is always there, despite it all.

_____________________________________________

[06:25]

'Permission to use the family's private jet?'

The text came through, puzzling you.

Was this Yunho rouse to stoke a conversation or a reaction from you? He had been using all your family's resources and assets without your permission in the past five years. As far as you were concerned, all his overseas trips, be it business or personally related, he used the aircraft that your parents used when they had purchased it around the time close to their deaths.

You had vehemently declined it's use, when you had flown in, and he had given little push against your choice, afraid that you would entirely cancel your return.

[08:47]

'Granted'

You texted back, and darkened the screen once more to return to your pile of files and fully booked schedule for the day.

[08:56]

'Thank you, little Sister... So how are you?'

[10:09]

'Can I take you out for dinner, tonight for a proper sit down?'

[12:27]

'Perhaps a small chat over coffee, during your lunch break?'

There, he's proven your thoughts true. You leave the popped-up message notification as is.

All the work you had been doing during your time before your official start, seemed to have been a joke, compared to the demands of paperwork, meetings with the company's executives, board and the actual boss. It would seem your arrival in the company, had set off quite a buzz even in the normal world.

Some remembered your father's reputation while your brother has built a reputation of his own, that has come to you with your bosses request to take on certain accounts and contacts that wish to be under your careful eye.

You continue ignoring the buzzing phone, as you push through the latter part of your day. Vaguely you feel your muscles scream to be let loose for the day. You admit, since seeing the first message from your brother that morning, you have been tightly wound, so has ypur stomach been in too many knots to push down the lunch pack Kyungsoo-Hyung had made for you.

"YN-ssi, I hope you have finally settled amidst the whirlwind you have created in the finance and commerce world." Your boss peeped through, and his deceptively light voice carried down the large office to your desk.

"I apologise for all the inconviences and trouble I have caused for you and company, with my presence." You shoot from seat, to acknowledge the man.

True to being an instant asset for his firm. But the man had instantly resented you, the moment he laid his cold, beady eyes on your first day.

He was part of the old-fashioned crowd, of not taking too kindly to a woman or younger person, stealing the shine and intellect from his direction.

"No, no... this is all good for business, so there no complaints there." You were waiting for the man's act of light air and familiarity to drop, because you were not buying any of it.

"Then I thank you once more for your welcome into your work family." You bow, low returning to your seat.

The man enters and seats himself across from you, waving off your words. You silently watch him, fidget then rises minutes later, clearly stifled by your comfortability with the awkwardness. He stands next to you, with his rest against the desk. You keep his gaze, through all his movements, curious, if nothing else, at the older man's action and wonder at his coming words.

"There are a few accounts from a particular, long standing and highly valued client that has insisted your expertise from here on." You nearly sigh your exasperation. Now your superior has brought in the big guns, or the big gun could not sit back, idly, to take anymore rejection.

Since you had arrived, there had been an old and established client that has head hunted your services, relentlessly. You have instantly declined, at first siting that your were too much of a newcomer for such a heavyweight. Then your gut feeling kicked in, upon glancing over the numbers, to flatbout decline. You saw the number patterns your father taught you from you pre-teen years and you were steering very clear from the account.

"When the pattern looks freaky, that means it's owner is just as much of a freak... A dangerous, underworld freak." Your younger voice giggles at your father's voice's choice of words.

"I'm serious, baby. Listen to your father, when he warns you against the freaks of this world." The voice grows sterner and firm, but some of the words are just as soft as the bond between the two individuals.

"Uhm I don't understand. Aren't older and more valued accounts?" You feign perplexion. You knew senior partners and executive took on the most classified and long standing clients of the company.

Although highly qualified for your age and vastly experienced with high profiled clients, mainly European celebrities or elusive billionaires, you just a junior partner in this company. A unique feat on its own, to be into a partner position, out trumping those that have grown in the company.

Did you mention that not many liked, the moment you had set foot out of the elevators on your first day, because of that fact.

"That was my argument with the said client, but he insists on you, nonetheless." His nonchalant shrug failed to mask his annoyance on the matter. Being stripped of a lucrative account, and shove upon a newbie, no matter the prodigal rumours and generational financial consultancy services under your name, left the man sour.

"And, who might this account belong to?" You had refused to read the file cover before diving to evaluate the numbers.

"The Lee family."

Dread curtailed through your system, catapulting your heart rate into overdrive. Your mouth became suddenly dry and the air down your windpipe seemed to stick to your lungs. The loose satin shirt and palazzo pants felt suffocating on your pores, but none of your horror and discomfort showed.

Your mother taught you that much, too in the face fiend, foes and general discomfort.

"Stay cooler than your opposition, always. Especially as a woman born or married into this world, because something tells me you will be both that kind of woman in future." Your mother's confident voice beams in your memories.

Your boss nor the name uttered to you, will not affect you in any way. Well, not on your icy calm exterior.

With work, you always had ice in your veins.

"I will consider it." You conclude, with a push of your chair and rise to level your eyes to him, showing him that the conversation is finished and you wish to leave without further push on the matter.

Your boss sets his jaw while you square your shoulders. All panic, anxiety and personal grief is non existent when you step into your work mode. And right now, you were in full gear, and your boss shall understand you were never a push over in your professional elements.

The glaring match is torn to shreds, with a knock on the door. Minseok stood, glowering over the threshold. You were not sure whether the look was at the man with his face close to your own, stony face or his next words, said it all.

"Ma'am, it's the end of day. You were not answering your phone. It's time we went home."

As far as the office understood, Minseok was your personal driver and security, as a precaution for all the lucrative client you had from your previous job.

Before you could answer that you left your phone on Silent. Your packed belongings sat on the couch near the door, where Minseok was closest.

Your boss was the first to react to your bodyguard's icy words.

"She will be putting in a few hours more, in light of her new accounts acquisition." He bites out, eyes never leaving your own.

"I worked through my breaks, and it is end of day, so I will follow my bodyguard's suggestions and leave..." You make purpose to glance at you Rolex wrist watch, a parting gift from your previous firm, it was 17:55pm, "for home at exactly 17:59pm."

"I am the boss, and I have told you otherwise."

You feel Minseok, take a small step into the office, which you halt with your jerked turn around. You follow the authoritative man, walking back to his seat and dropping into it with a challenging glare back to you.

"And I told you I will take the accounts under consideration, boss... in the comfort of my home office, for the rest of my night." You fire back, with deadly calm voice, "We're done here. Take care."

You turned tail and strode towards Minseok, but the said man had his eyes over your shoulder. He looked to remain rigid, even when you come to stand at his side. Your light touch to his forearm, seemed to snap him out of his dark aura, and you were uninterested to look back at how affected the man behind you, was.

Trust your bodyguard's hard looks to unnerve any person who gets on his wrong side. That you have come to know, with your colleagues' interactions with you in the office.

"Home, Minseok... let's go, home. The men are waiting for us." You murmur  breaking his murderous glare over your shoulder.

"Mmm, Suho may be back tonight, so D.O will make it a special night of food." The bodyguard concede to your touch and turns to usher you out.

*

True to his musings, the other bodyguard had gone full out with the pasta dishes and sides for everyone in the house.

The men were in a contented murmur, throughout the evening, while you actively allowed your fork through your sphaghetti and meatballs. Just like how you had it during your university days in Italy.

All conversation centered around you, as everyone at the table made sure to murmur low enough that you not hear. Chen and Baekhyun, made sure to let you know that their looks meant you deliberately not invited anything they had to share with the others.

Kyungsoo and Kai had their own low discussion about a serious matter, seeing how furrowed their brows were. Probably Kai filling his hyung in on what happened in his absence. As usual. Sehun and Chanyeol waffles down theirs and some of the others' side dishes, all while keeping a distracted ear on their hyungs conversations, closest to them.

Minseok and Suho, however shared a very deep and immersive conversation. Suho's eyes glancing up you from time to time, while nursing a glass of red wine and nodding to his older brother's word near his ear.

Minseok leaned back from his brother's ear, but continued his low words, with his eyes pinned at you. You on the other side of the table, had too abandoned any notion of stealing glances at them.

He tipped a glass of his cognac in your direction, as you rose from your seat. The day's events catching with your wretched sleeping patterns, and you finally answer to your muscles' screams for rest.

D.O waves away your movement to gather your dishes, with a light pat on you back and shake of the head. You nod and bow to leave the table.

Closing the French doors, another door, down the side of the house opens, and out steps the leader of the men seated around the table you just vacated, to some, alcohol buzzed acknowledgement.

The leader walks down to where his charisma and charm has pinned you to the spot.

He awkwardly scratched at his upper lip, before fully turning to you, with a clouded expression and tilt of his head. He looked to be weighing his words, that's if he has decided to say anything or abandon all notion, entirely.

"Give your brother a chance to explain... to set things right between the two of you..." He utters words, you can hear, were a challenge to find and word aloud.

"I have nothing to say to Yunho." You flatly cut through.

"And you were not the only one who lost their entire family... special loved ones that night." He quietly fires back, tilting his nearly empty wine glass at your stunned stance.

With that finality in his firm and cutting scolding, he walked away to his own patrol of his grounds, like every night on his returns from lengthy business trips. He leaves you dumbfound and blinking at his direction.

[20:47pm]

'I see you sent the cavalry...'

_____________________

@suhappysuho

[dyns33]

The Office

A little Modern! Owen story 

It had been going on for eight months.

Since the first day. From the moment they had met, their boss introducing her to Owen Sleater, who had been recruited after leaving a competing company, he had begun to flirt with her.

And not discreetly, not at all.

With a huge smile, he took her hand and kissed it, purring that he was really happy to meet her.

Owen Sleater, she noticed very quickly, was purring a lot.

This had made their boss laugh, who had then reminded Owen that Y/N was his superior, and that such things weren't very proper.

Even if she was able to be impartial and fair, relations between two people who were not of the same hierarchy were never a good idea.

Owen continued to smile as he watched her with sparkling eyes.

At the end of the first day, Y/N had hoped that he would stop acting like a fool and cease this stupid game. After the first week, she realized he wouldn't.

           "I could get you fired for that." she threatened him, when a month had almost passed.

           "For what exactly, darling ?" he sneered, holding onto the wall, close enough for her to smell his perfume, but far enough away not to touch her.

           "Harassment."

           "I'm not harassing you at all."

           "...You are annoying."

           "I didn't know that telling a woman she was charming, smart and fabulous was harassment, I'm so sorry about that, I won't do that again, even if it's the truth and you deserves all the praising."

           "It's not just that ! You follow me in the corridors !"

           "To talk about current files, take stock of interviews, and offer you a coffee."

           "... You had flowers delivered to my office !"

           "I don't have your address. If I had it, it would mean that I searched the archives, which is totally illegal."

           "You kiss my hand all the time !"

           "Would you like me to kiss you somewhere else ?" he asked, smiling.

Exasperated, Y/N sighed and went back to her office, as Owen wished her a good day.

It was true that, technically, he was doing nothing wrong. He never touched her without permission, except when he kissed her on the hand, to say hello or goodbye.

His compliments were always respectful. Owen had never made any truly indecent proposals to her, even though Y/N ​​wasn't stupid and she guessed very well what he wanted.

They had never met outside of work. Maybe he knew very well where she lived, but he had never shown it. He respected the limits. He didn't call her either, or text her.

Y/N therefore had no good reason to fire him.

Besides, Owen was really good at his job, one of the best, if not the best. It wouldn't be good to let him go. Their boss would be furious.

The real problem, which she refused to admit, was probably that it was very difficult to resist him.

This asshole was really a cute little shit, with his smile and his compliments. Very good at seducing. Y/N wondered how many lovers he had had.

In any case, she couldn't imagine that he was someone serious. It was just a game for him, nothing more, trying to get his boss, knowing that it was forbidden.

           "I really love you, you know ?" he told her one day, with a straight face, when they were alone in the elevator. "Since I met you. You're the only one, I don't want anyone else."

           "... Sorry ?"

           "I just wanted you to know that."

He got out of the elevator before she could answer him, and after that they didn't talk about the event again, Owen continuing to flirt with her as if everything was normal and that he hadn't made a confession of his love for her out of nowhere.

Now it's been eight months, and Y/N didn't know what to do anymore, trying to stay calm and professional.

It was more or less simple during the whole flight that took them to a conference as boring as it was useless, but where their boss had insisted that they go together, the two best elements of the company, to find new clients.

Sitting next to her, Owen had spent all his time staring at her as he stood by the porthole, saying that she was much more beautiful than the view.

Then there was the trip to the hotel, where luckily they each had a room, which seemed to disappoint the poor man.

During the conference, he was much more serious, which was very pleasant. Maybe his hand stayed on her back a little too long when they were chatting with a client, or he made a quick remark about her hair or her outfit. But nobody noticed anything strange.

Then they returned to the hotel.

Y/N stayed in the hall to call their boss, tell him that everything was going perfectly well, they had even succeeded in attracting new partners and clients.

As she walked into her room, hoping she could take a long, hot shower and get some sleep, she found Owen on her bed, a big smile on his face and his shirt open.

           "... What are you doing here ?" she asked slowly, pulling out her coat and putting it on a chair.

           "Just making sure that you have everything you need."

           "Yes, absolutely everything, thank you very much. You can leave."

It made him jump out of bed, his eternal smile still there.

           "Oh, come on, darling ! It's just you and me, for the whole weekend. Nobody will ever know. In any case, I won't say anything. Some idiots will probably imagine things even if we do nothing anyway."

           "I'm not interested in a one night stand, even less with an employee, thank you again."

           "Who's talking about one night stand ?" he said, approaching to take her hand.

           "Owen..."

He sighed then, his smile growing sadder as he looked away, stopping to touch her to zip up his shirt. He licked his lips before biting them. His lips were so kissable, it made him even more attractive than usual. Owen looked at her intently again, as if to say something, then he nodded and left.

Y/N didn't quite know what she must be feeling. Somehow, she was relieved. If he had insisted, maybe she wouldn't have been able to tell him no any longer.

At the same time she was a little disappointed.

But above all, she found it admirable that Owen had respected her refusal. He wouldn't force her if she really didn't want him.

Oh, if he had asked her, she could never have denied that she wanted him.

The rest of the stay passed very quickly, without him speaking to her when it was not necessary.

She hoped everything would be fine when they got back to work. Maybe he wouldn't flirt with her as often as before, maybe not at all, but they could stay on good terms.

Except Owen didn't come to work. No news of him during the whole day. Y/N tried to pretend it didn't affect her, not asking anyone if he was okay. Because he must have been sick, or indisposed.

He couldn't have quit, not for something so stupid. Several days passed, and yet it seemed obvious that he was gone.

Y/N felt bad. Sad. Not just because she missed his compliments and ridiculous attitude, but because Owen was really a nice person, a great employee, and it was absurd that he was leaving such a suitable position because she had rejected him.

It was possible that he had imagined that she was going to report him, and he had preferred to avoid being fired. Y/N wondered if she should contact him to tell him that she would never do such a thing. But that wouldn't help much.

Then she ran into him in the elevator the following week. Owen was smiling as always, a beaming smile, kissing her hand when he saw her, as if nothing happened.

           "Darling ! I missed you !" he declared frankly. "It's been a very long week without you, I was hoping to see you every day, but I'm terribly busy. I understand better that you resent me when I waste your time in the hallways."

           "... What do you mean ?"

           "You don't know ? I called our boss during our stay, to tell him that I thought I deserved a promotion after all my good work. I was transferred to another unit, we have the same position now, we are bosses, with a boss."

           "Well... Congratulations."

           "And so, I am no longer your employee."

There was a silence, Owen staring at her intently as Y/N frowned, trying to figure out what he meant.

           "Y/N. My darling. I'm not your employee anymore." he repeated softly, his face suddenly very close to hers. "I have more money, more responsibilities, and a better chance of being able to woo a wonderful woman who has far too much respect for regulation to agree to date me."

           "...  Oh." was the only clever thing she managed to say.

           "Yes. Oh. So ? You, me, dinner, then a coffee at my place ? Then lots of drinks every night ?"

           "I have to think about it. Check my schedule."

           "Sweetheart... It's been eight months !"

He didn't beg, Y/N didn't think Owen was the kind of man who begged, but his little pout and his puppy eyes spoke for him, shining like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, which he dreamed of during all this time.

           "... I'm not really hungry, so it'll be a drink right away, at home."

           "Oh, darling." he purred, pressing his lips to her cheek. "You are killing me."

Stepping out of the elevator, he began to follow her as before, until she reminded him that he no longer worked on that floor. So, after kissing her hand, he left, winking at her when the doors closed, shouting that he would be waiting for her by her car tonight.

There were no rules that prevented two employees of the same status from dating. No need to be discreet, or waste time.

Y/N still sighed with a little smile, thinking he was a silly, silly man.

[cheelduh]

How to tie up a cute boy

(Highschool Au)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Parts: 1  2  3

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Scaramouche abuse, no Signora slander this time, shit humour.

Synopsis: "Why are you doing homework?" Childe groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

Note: Unedited yet again besties. Tysm for reading :) I got Childe after losing him to mf MONA, istg it was the most stressful moment of my life.

The clock ticks with its pendulum, ridiculing you as it holds the time. The gentle whirring of the air conditioning in the background serves as the icing on the cake to your pent up aggression.

You try not to glare at your phone too much after receiving a text from Childe that told you not to worry, that his dad picked him up and that he was in the comfort of his home, letting the flu blow over.

It took a lot of convincing from his part earlier that morning to get you to go back and actually attend the rest of your classes, making sure to check up on him every break plus the additional "bathroom breaks" you usually never take while in class.

"I can't let you get in trouble for me." He murmured with a small smile that pumped your blood a little faster than usual. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry your pretty little head."

You do exactly that.

You don't even know why you're so worried. He's sick, not dying. Not to mention, you aren't even his girlfriend let alone his friend to care so much. 

Your intrusive thoughts don't waste any time. You latch onto the one thought that takes over. He's probably dead. Lying in his bed in a heap of pillows, passing peacefully while his parents are in the other room. He's dead.

Okay, he's not dead. You intrusive thoughts sure do one hell of a job. He'll be fine, and in no time he'll go back to being a reckless distraction in your life that you need to surpass. Just another obstacle to add onto the list of things life has thrown at you.

But for an obstacle, he sure is kind of cute.

You refrain from bashing your head on the desk. School isn't really a preferred environment on your list of top ten places to shrivel up and die.

Speaking of death and all that is evil, why is Childe always on your mind? He takes up every nook and cranny of your day, constantly, and truth be told it's starting to boil your piss.

Every time you close your eyes you see his smug smile, and hear his stupid laugh. He's an annoying little prick who gets a rise out of exasperating you. Yet here you are, terrified by the warmth that blossoms in your heart when you so much as hear his name.

The final bell rings at long last, conveniently before you bite your tongue to avoid screaming, and not another second is wasted once you launch yourself out the door. You dodge through the crowd of students in the hall that are buzzing in excitement from it being a Friday afternoon, and you would be too if you weren't so damn hung up over a ginger with a battlekink.

Locker in view, you make a beeline and spend the next two minutes fumbling with the lock in your hands.

"Woah there cutie," Lisa speaks up playfully. "At this rate you'll break the poor lock with your bare hands."

For a moment you're surprised at her sudden appearance, but then remember that it's normal for her to worm her way anywhere.

"It's just—this lock is being dumb okay? It has no reason being a pain in my ass but it wakes up every day and chooses violence." You hiss through your teeth, a sharp metallic ring invading your ears when you lose it and jostle the combination lock against the door of your locker.

Lisa winces, but smiles teasingly nonetheless. "Want me to give it a try?"

"Please."

Lisa has the door open at record speed.

"I love you Lisa." You confess wholeheartedly, gripping at your chest. "I love you so much—"

"Yeah yeah," She waves you off with a grin. "Now hurry up and go save your boyfriend from the common flu. Archons knows he won't make the night."

You flush at the word "boyfriend" and don't give much thought to the insinuation that lies within the rest of her sentence.

Sliding your skateboard under an arm, you spin on your heel just to bump straight into Scaramouche, who's won the scowl of the century on his face. He's the last person you want to see right now, but apparently the universe wants to have a pissing match with you.

"Give this homework to that idiot Ginger." He shoves a stack of papers into you. "Tell him that once he's done circling the drain, I'm gonna kick his ass." He then leans in, murderous glint in his eyes. "And if you ever touch me again I'll take a shit in your cereal. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

You shiver at the thought of him squatting on your Cheerios, hands becoming clammy as you try and justify yourself. "It was an accident."

Your pitiful excuse earns you nothing from the navy haired boy. "It'll be an accident when I murder your entire family, three generations over."

"Hi Mona!" You wave excitedly over his shoulder at the body of students that are totally not Mona. With elation he fails to conceal, Scaramouche turns to look at the speed of light.

You take the chance to make your escape—not before waving to Lisa, chuckling to yourself. He's down bad.

With great expertise you file your way through the flock of students chattering near the entrance. , you confidently place your skateboard down on the sidewalk, ready to—

Wait—where does he live again?

You sigh heavily, ignoring the sadness as you thank the universe internally for pulling the reigns on your disastrous plan. Checking up on Childe at his house? With his family present? Making a complete fool out of yourself? What are you thinking? The possibilities are horrendous. He probably doesn't even think of you like that, he just likes a challenge and you pose as one.

You turn away to make a run for it in the direction of your home, all the while ignoring the nagging worry in your chest for Childe. He's probably fine anyways, you don't need to check up on him, and if you did he'd likely find a way to spin it and tease you relentlessly.

Although somehow, the thought of being teased by him isn't as dreadful as you'd like it to be.

Suddenly, an idea graces you, one that guarantees your misery by sating your obligation to check up on Childe. A litany of curses escape your mouth. Genius really, the amount of ways you can think of doing something that'll end in your demise.

"Adeptus Xiao." You whisper apprehensively, already regretting your decision. "Adeptus Xiao." Glancing around your surroundings, you barely notice the shadow that looms over you at your backside.

"What do you want mortal?" Unbeknownst to you, he strikes out of nowhere, making you jump back several meters. You manage to muffle a surprised shriek.

Xiao is Venti's -6 ft boyfriend, the vicious epitome of an eboy. He has a scaled tattoo covering up the majority of an arm, a few piercing holes in his ears, all matched up with a disinterested look. Somehow, he always appears out of nowhere if you call out his name. It's sort of disturbing in a way.

His amber eyes pierce through you, forcing a shudder of fear and dread to lace your blood, almost as if he can sense you shittalking him in your head.

With shaky hands, you ask, "Can you tell me where—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear me ou—"

"No."

"Please?"

He refuses to at least pretend to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Why?" You frown, stomping your foot on the ground childishly.

"Because." He retorts with a lack of interest, but doesn't further explain his point. English teachers must love this kid.

"Okay," You say slowly, casually inspecting his form as you come up with an idea, briefly remembering Lumine mentioning it to you. "How about I give you my share on almond tofu Tuesday."

The lack of interest on his face wavers slightly. Bingo.

"What do you want mortal?" Xiao mutters gruffly, arms crossed, face morphing into subtle annoyance.

You wrack your brain for a proper answer. You can't just outright ask him or it'll seem like you have a thing for Childe, which you unfortunately do, but you'd like to keep a semblance of integrity. Ah yes, the homework!

"I gotta deliver these to Childe." You outstretch the pile of worksheets in your hands. "Except I don't know where he lives. Can you tell me?"

Xiao's eyes glint with danger. "Did you summon me for the trivial task of giving you an address?"

You nod furiously.

"Do humans have no shame?" Its rhetorical. Expressionlessly, he closes his eyes with intent focus, doing what you assume to be locating Childe's exact location.

He blinks an eye open, reaches a hand out. "Give me your phone." Palm waiting.

You hand it over to him almost desperately.

One glance at your bubbly phone case and he doesn't even try to hide his distaste. He taps a few times, then hands it back to you almost immediately.

On the screen is maps, and Childe's home is about a fifteen minute walk away.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," He mutters, leaning back against the school gate as the remainder of students walk past the two of you. "Locating demons that need subjugating is but a simple task."

There's a pregnant pause. Demon.

"Childe's a demon?" You gasp, even though you've always had your suspicions. Hence the reason you invest so much in demon-cancelling charms.

"What? No." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, and you note that his irritation grows the more questions you ask. "I had a physics project with him last semester."

That's why the charms don't work.

Your mouth forms an o, in fear that if you keep this conversation going on any longer, he'll snap at you. Especially when your next line of interrogation involves how he's able to appear and disappear into thin air.

It's a magic trick you'll want to master whenever Il Dottore has another conniption fit in the middle of the hallways after Kaeya tells him he looks like he has skid marks.

"Thank you." You say instead, trying to preserve his regard, but by the time you meet his gaze he's already gone with the wind.

—

Childe's home is surprisingly humble, considering the amount of fat stacks of cash he carries around in his fanny pack so care-freely. It's a normal suburban home from what you can tell, a little bigger than normal with a double garage, neatly mowed lawn and a few forgotten decorations from the windblume festival. A series of water guns lay forgotten near the entrance, making their presence known when you stumbled upon them.

It's hard to remain unphased. Especially since such a normal looking home has bred someone as ruthless as Childe.

Maybe it not the home, you think. Maybe it's the way he was raised. You recall a few glimpses of his mother in middle school, but because of your worse for wear memory retention, you can't ballpark her personality type.

As your thoughts wander further down to his parents and early childhood, villain origin story and what not, you're pulled out of your concentration when the door opens. The possible implications of being here are most definitely not in your favor.

Childe's mother is a stunning woman in her mid-forties who sure as hell doesn't show it in that jaw-dropping sapphire dress, topped off with a brilliant smile that makes your knees weak. Like mother like son, you suppose.

With her sudden appearance, strangely enough, you can remember how good her tiramisu bites are.

You take a moment to respond, swallowing thickly, only to stare at her stupidly.

His mother doesn't waste another second before ushering you in, oblivious to your star-struck expression. "Y/N? L/N Y/N? My have you grown. I remember when you were only this tall." She lifts her hand up a little above her waist, the jewels on her fingers dazzling with every movement. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's doing alright, busy with the clinic." You're able to find your words, smiling back at her, able to get somewhat familiar with her warmth. "I hope I'm not intruding. Childe forgot some homework." You say, heaving the short stack up.

"Ajax?" She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he's going by that now. I wonder when this phase will be over. He may act tough but he's such a softie, has the biggest heart."

You, in between concealed emotions and giggles that threaten to leak, try to hide the oncoming grin but it's impossible. "Well he's got you to thank for it."

"You flatter me too much Y/N," She fixes the up do, pinning back the blonde hair that deftly frame her familiar cerulean eyes. "I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Her words make you waver momentarily. The fondness you've refused to share, the drawn out stares in the halls, the lingering touches, you don't want to acknowledge it but it's there. Whatever it is.

"I'm so sorry for cutting this short dear," His mother sighs, grabbing her keys off the counter and placing her wallet in an elegant handbag. "My niece is getting married and we're already late. I told Ajax I'd stay if he didn't feel too well but he said he could handle a headache. That boy, I swear, always tries to power through."

You nod in understanding, but wait a minute. A headache?

Scrunching up your face, eyebrows furrowed, you ask. "Headache?"

She frowns, applying another layer of her rouge lipstick hastily in a nearby mirror. "I know dear, how unfortunate. The school nurse said it's a migraine, and I shouldn't fret much, but a mother can't help but worry. If only he weren't so stubborn, like his father."

As if on cue, a loud honk comes from outside.

"That must be him!" She exclaims, hurriedly sliding in her heels, turning back to look at your awkward figure. "Ajax is in his room, it's the second door to the right upstairs. I've made some lasagna for the kids, you ought to have some as well, I'll be upset if you don't—" Another annoying honk cuts her off, to which she scoffs, shaking a fist. "That old man, I'll strangle him in his sleep. I must be going now, goodbye dear." She reveals a twinkling smile at you one last time, waving a slim hand before picking up her heels and making a run for it.

The door closes with an unceremonious thud, gust of wind in its trail, leaving a bewildered high schooler in its wake.

Snapping out of your haze, overwhelming tides threaten to drown you whole. Being in Childe's home, alone, with him a handful of stair steps and a wall or two away, your cheeks are set ablaze.

Now that his mother's gone, you take a second to really look. There are a few toys littered in front of the TV, home covered in with soft throws and coordinated cushions, a lazy sectional plopped right in the middle. The marks on the furniture with all the stories, the light hued mismatched frames hanging on the walls and on all the table, so many pictures of those that resemble him, his brothers, his sisters, his family. You can almost hear the echoing laughter in the halls, the childish squeals and pitter patter of tiny feet slapping the hardwood floor.

This is where he grew up. This is where he retires to after a long day full of gratifying fistfights. This is where he was raised to be who he is today, ambitious and reckless, with the absurd dream to one day rule the world. This is his home.

It's...like being wrapped in blanket, safe and cozy, surrounded by all the love in the world.

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the outlines of a younger Childe, two missing teeth and eyes full of dreams, hugging the side of his father's shoulder because his small arms can't wrap around them. Not just yet.

You make your way over to the staircase, which has even more frames littered across the wall, one that falls short of hiding the marks of a green crayon—another slice of domesticity you aren't quite accustomed to.

The reality sets in, and you come to a conclusion. This home is definitely not an environment for growing psychopaths, Childe just beats the odds like he beats up kids on the daily.

Your fist hovers over his door as you contemplate abandoning the sheets on a nearby table, but his mother was so sweet and polite, so incredibly hospitable, you wouldn't have the heart to make a run for it.

"I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Three consecutive knocks. If he doesn't answer, you'll leave them at the door.

"Mama," Childe's muffled groans stem from the other side, and oh, you want to revel in the grave undertone of his voice because it's certainly not a common occurrence. "I told you I'm fine. You can go okay? I don't want you to be late, just need to sleep it off."

You blink, lips curling, and then knock again.

"Mama," He whines again, and it has you grinning mischievously. He's a mommy's boy, he has to be. The thought envelopes your heart with a newfound fondness. "Just come in and hurry."

You eagerly take in the room once you slip in, eyes scanning over every little detail, until they zero in on the heap of sheets smack dab on the single bed, a pair of feet dangling off the edge, topped with a comforter thrown over leisurely.

Childe's facing away from you, head dipped in between his shoulders, probably trying to find a position that's more comfortable. He's shivering, sweating at the same time. His mother must've been too preoccupied to notice. This isn't the first time he's used his exceptional bullshitting finesse.

"I can't believe you lied to your mother," You cross your arms, leaning back against the door.

With a jerk, Childe flings into a sitting up position, wide awake and aware of everything that is going on, a stark contrast from nearly seconds ago.

He blinks at you in shock, once, twice, rubs his eyes a bit, relaxes, then leans back, out of it completely. "For a sleep paralysis monster, you sure are kind of cute."

"For and idiot you sure are an idiot." You snort back.

"Wait a minute," He mutters slowly, jaw dropping. "You're actually here?!"

Ignoring his question, you opt to slap the papers on his desk to ignore your clammy palms. "Homework."

"And here I thought you came here all this way to be my personal nurse." He smirks, recovering from his momentary shock fairly swiftly. Doesn't refrain from giving you that shit stain of a bad boy grin, even with a flushed face and concavity under his eyes.

"I can be your personal mortician instead."

"I didn't know you were into role play babe, but I'll take what I can get." He winks, but is punished by a sequence of coughs that earn a wince from you.

"Headache?" You tease after he quiets down, but he remains as cavalier as always.

He sighs, sides of his lips still arched upwards. "My parents barely have any time to themselves, it's so hectic with the kids. What kind of son would I be if I couldn't even give them this?"

He must've threatened Barbara.

"You're," You inhale, briefly letting the silence hang between you two, mulling over what you wish to convey. sweet.

"Irresistible? Hot? Sexy?" He starts casual, arrogant smirk widening.

"Kind of not a complete asshole, is what I was going to say."

"Careful girlie," He narrows his eyes on you, playful lilt in his tone. The comforter is allowed to slip past his shoulders to reveal the goods that lie underneath, the complete naked chest of a post-puberty highschool boy who sprays too much axe. Full pectorals are something to pay for, stringed with smooth muscles that ripple their way over his toned shoulders. "If you keep teasing me like this, I can't promise I'll be the nice guy."

"One more time from the top," You bite back, avoiding staring at him for too long. "Without the congested nose this time."

With great expertise, he weakly throws a pillow at you, and you watch it exceptionally land at your feet, barely grazing the tips of your socks.

"Impressive," You whistle, not impressed.

He pouts, shivers, then is dunking his head back into the welcoming embrace of his plush collection of pillows.

With a sigh, you plop down on his chair, grab a pen and begin calculating derivatives.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't even turn your way, voice muffled.

"Homework," You reply nonchalantly, trying to calm your nerves. "unless you want me to get you something to eat, considering you puked out your gogurt on Barbara's shoes earlier. Congrats by the way, you're hit listed by her fan club."

"Why are you doing homework?" He groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

He really has an IQ below room temperature.

Burying the formidable obligation to clock him in the face on behalf of society, you slowly get up to approach his bed, to which he grins widely in disbelief.

Apprehensively, you climb onto his bed, and he scoots over, excitement as clear as day. His hair's a wild mess from all the shifting, almost makes you want to card a hand through it. Your heart nestles it's way in your throat at the sight of his blazing blue eyes.

You pity him for what you're about to do.

"Relax Childe," You lean over him with confidence you never knew you had to begin with, face hovering inches before his. Your fists strategically grip the comforter on either side of him. "We have all day after all."

Although you attempt to pay no heed to his quivering hand that snakes up to find solace on your hip, you momentarily shiver at the tenderness.

He's eating this up and leaving no crumbs. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his lips tremble when he tries to close in the distance.

Abruptly, you cross both handfuls of sheets over his body, tying them securely in place to keep him docile. He struggles in your grip, eyes snapping open in surprise. "Wuh-What."

"Did you really think you had a chance?" You cross your arms, stepping back to get a good look at your handiwork.

"Honestly?" Childe huffs, struggles some in his restraints. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Typical," You scrunch your nose up, unscrunch, and then exhale. "You stay here and I'll go make you some soup. Well, not that you can really move but you get the idea."

"You're really going to leave me here like this?" He pouts cutely, melting you, and the sick bastard knows of his power.

"Relax," You wave a hand, "I may be evil but I'm not Scaramouche."

Meanwhile, Scaramouche sneezes as he tries to ask Mona out, falling straight on his ass from the kick back, making a complete fool out of himself. Mona doesn't mind though, finds it endearing.

Back at Childe's room, he raises a brow, expectant.

Going through the five stages of grief, you do something you've been wanting to do for a while, succumbing to the immense feeling.

Closing in the distance between you two, you suck in a breath and gently tilt Childe's head to the side. He blinks quickly, not quite expecting your sudden forwardness, about to say something that doesn't matter as soon as you place a tender peck on the side of his cheek.

Time stops, the world coming to a halt completely. A moment made in history, one you won't ever forget, fresh in both your minds from forward on.

And then you stagger away as if you've been stabbed.

"Soup!" You squeak, appalled by the sheer boldness of your actions. "I'll go make soup while you rest."

Childe, frozen, stares at you incredibly confused, and then beams.

Dear Archons, what have you done.

[itsamejin]

goodbye || part 2 (finale) || yoongi angst/fluff

Part 1

Summary: Yoongi watched silently as you exited the car and out of his life, but he can’t help but feel a sense of panic at the thought of you leaving him for good.

Warning: cursing, fighting (verbal), pining

Genre: angst

Premise: Yoongi drives off without you after a heated argument and now you’re gone.

Commission Request: @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom​

Word Count: 5,354 words

—

Yoongi paces back and forth as he calls the police to file a missing persons report. Yoongi was on the street he last saw you in and he had scoured through the neighborhood to figure out where you were- even knocking down on a few doors. 

He didn’t want to escalate the situation and post about you going missing on social media-  that would be too risky. It would hurt his career and possibly put your life in more danger with crazy fans and flashing cameras looming the streets to get a glimpse of you. Lord knows that’s the last thing either of you need at the moment.

“Yeah I was in my car and she left after we got into an argument,” he repeats for what felt like the eleventh time. The dispatch caller kept asking him the same questions. “She was wearing a red dress and I think black heels. Oh, and she had a pearl necklace!”

The dispatcher took note of his descriptions and assured him that patrolling police officers in the area would let him know where you were. After he hung up the phone, his shaky hands brushed his hair back out of exasperation. 

It was already two o’clock in the morning by now and everything in his body screamed to be in bed, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to rest without finding you.

Yoongi had driven from the street he last saw you on and to your shared apartment, hoping that you’d somehow shown up between those short intervals of time. His palms were damp from the sweat and he sat on the hood of his car to gain composure. It just felt like the whole world was against him at that moment.

He couldn’t do much by himself, especially being an idol, and it felt like he had no control over the situation. Yoongi risked calling the cops, aware that they’d know of his identity eventually- that he was Suga from BTS. 

Yoongi doesn’t know if he could handle the consequences that came with revealing he was in a relationship and what his company would do if the whole world found out that Yoongi let his girlfriend walk out on him in the middle of the night.

That wasn’t what concerned Yoongi the most, though. All he wanted to do was find you and take you home- maybe even give a proper apology. He never expected to file a missing persons report on the one person he thought would stay constant in his life. He felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you being hurt and that made him grip the hood of the car harder.

Red dress. Pearl necklace. Recently heartbroken.

A perfect description.

—

Walking barefoot on concrete, you held your black pumps in one hand and cringed at the crunching sounds underneath your toes. You were still walking. Towards what? You don’t really know.

You were sure, though, that you were closer to a downtown area when the city lights became more luminescent as you walked. The clouds in the sky were graying and a storm was ready to start. If you didn’t find shelter soon then you’d risk getting caught up in rain at a dangerous time of night.

Truthfully, you were frightened. Walking alone at night in an unfamiliar part of town would always incite some sort of paranoia, especially as a girl, but the idea of Yoongi finding you more than anything else is what frightened you the most. You knew he’d be angry with you for storming off and you weren’t ready to face him quite yet.

You winced as you felt a sharp pebble dig into your big toe and you could only walk it off to make the pain go away just a little. A hotel room seemed like the best option at that point, but you left your wallet back in the car. You sighed to yourself. This really was the worst way to make a dramatic exit from a relationship. Yoongi was probably having the time of his life back at the apartment and here you were, picking off tiny rocks from your feet.

Suddenly, you came to a halt. 

Crescent Motel: You Pay After Your Stay!

A motel that would let you pay the next day. It was dingy and the beds were most likely infested with bedbugs, but it would have to do for the night. You’ll get yourself out of this rotten dress at the very least. Plus, you could just ask the front desk to call a friend in the morning. 

You walk into the lobby, a cozy sort of room with a television on one side of the wall. You wondered if it even really worked.

“Can I get your name?” the receptionist asks. He was a grimy old man that smelled too much of alcohol and smoke. He kind of reminded you of Yoongi in that he never looked at you directly. His eyes were always somewhere else.

“Do you really need my name?” you ask condescendingly. The least the guy could do was make eye-contact. You’ve had a rough day as it is.

He still refuses to look up and slides the room key onto your side of the desk.

“Don’t tell me if you want to,” he grumbles. “I just need something to put down in the records.”

You scoff, taking the keys off the table, and hiking up your dress slightly to walk past him. You pause for a bit and turn back around.

“Put down Yoongi,” you say, a certain conviction in your voice. “And if a guy who looks like a celebrity comes, don’t tell him that I’m here. Got it?”

He gives you a slight glance before he goes back to filing paperwork and chewing his own spit or whatever was in that old mouth of his.

“Is that even your name?” he asks nonchalantly, quickly penning it onto his records before closing the folder. You shake your head.

“It’s my ex-boyfriend’s,” you say, slightly cringing at the sound of it. Ex.

“Thought so,” the man muttered and you can’t help but laugh. Like Yoongi indeed. 

The room key had B28 etched very finely on it and so you ventured on to find the room you’d be staying in for the night. Despite your assumptions, it was actually quite a nice room- dated at most. There was a single bed with light bedding, enough to get you through the night. You shed yourself of the red dress and put on the robe provided by the motel.

Lightning struck outside and you could hear the first drops of rainfall. You sit on the bed with shaky hands, slightly startled at the sound. Almost suddenly, you feel a sense of sadness overcome you. 

Yoongi was probably at home, sleeping without much thought, while you had to struggle through an hour of walking to find a place to stay. It made your blood boil, knowing that he was probably fine without you in his life.

If you were a little smarter in your decision-making than maybe Yoongi would have dropped you off somewhere closer to home or maybe you would have gotten enough time to gather your belongings from the apartment. Now you were just in an unfamiliar room, wearing an unfamiliar robe, staring at an unfamiliar wall.

—

Yoongi sits inside as the rain pours heavily on his car windows. The cops are searching through the streets and yet not a sign of you has appeared. Big Hit was informed and now the whole Gangnam Police Force was forced to keep everything under wraps to keep his situation as discreet as possible. This meant, though, that there would be no large-scale search parties and less of a chance to find you. 

As the rain poured outside, Yoongi grows restless in his car. There was too much on his mind and yet not enough of his thoughts were fleshed out enough to even act on them. He needed to clear his thoughts.

Yoongi opens the door and walks out of the car, allowing the droplets of water to hit him. It served as a good distraction for the ache in his chest and pretty soon, his hair was practically soaked. He feels a tap on his shoulder. 

It’s a police officer.

“Someone reported seeing a woman who matches Ms. [Y/N] at the downtown area,” he informs. “We have reason to believe that she might have taken shelter in a nearby building.”

Yoongi nods, still quite out of it. What would he even do if he actually sees you? What could he possibly say?

‘Hey, I admit I fucked up, can we go back to normal again?’ didn’t quite cut it and he knew you wanted more from him than just a simple apology. You wanted a change in the relationship, an indication that you were more than just a secret to him. He just doesn’t know where to start without completely ruining his future.

“We’ll search around that strip. For now, you should go back home,” the cop suggests. Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’ll do my own search,” he says lowly. Yoongi turns back to his car and sits in the driver’s seat, wincing at the feeling of his wet clothes on the leather seats. He takes a look at the handbag on the passenger seat and feels a lump form at his throat. You couldn’t have gone far... right?

He drove in the dead of night, water splashing across the windows of his car. It was hard to drive with such a big migraine, but the thought of you being out there stranded left him restless.

It’s not like he’ll be able to sleep without you by his side anyway.

—

You laid on the bed, listening to the droplets of water hit the roof of the motel. It was soothing in a way, to know that the world was crying just as much as you were. It felt useless to try and close your eyes and ignore the aching in your heart and so it only made sense to wallow in your own sadness.

You search for your phone, but remember that it’s not with you. You sigh to yourself, using your elbow to cover your eyes but to no avail. Just sleep and forget his existence. Sounds easier said than done, doesn’t it?

You adjust yourself on the bed and try to imagine Yoongi sleeping next to you. It’s a common practice of yours. Even when you were angry, even when you hated his guts, you could not sleep peacefully without Yoongi by your side.

He was a constant presence and when he’d be gone for tours and business trips, you were left fatigued and worn out because of your lack of sleep. It wasn’t healthy, for sure, but that’s what happens when you get into relationships. You grow dependent.

You imagine the Yoongi in front of you humming a lullaby. You imagine that he’s stroking your hair wistfully and whispering that everything will be okay. You imagine that this Yoongi would never dream of hurting you, never dream to even try. 

For a second, it worked, but you were left with a deeper feeling of emptiness. That Yoongi didn’t seem to exist.

—

Yoongi finds a place, a little worn down but suitable enough to assume that you’d probably settle for it. Plus, it was the only nearby motel that would let you pay after staying- he had your handbag and phone with him after all. He walks in, soaked and worry etched all over his face. It was a strange sight indeed. A guy with dyed hair, soaked and carrying a woman’s handbag- not exactly the most ideal sight for a motel manager.

The man at the counter gives him a glare, not even bothering to hide his disdainful expression.

“Listen, kid, if you’re gonna rent a room-”

“I’m here to look for someone,” Yoongi cuts him off, a certain urgency in his voice that catches the elder man off-guard. ‘A guy who certainly looked like a celebrity,’ he thought to himself.

“Her name’s [Y/N],” Yoongi continues, “and she was wearing a red dress and had black heels on. She was probably distressed or seemed angry. Have you seen her?”

The old man just sighs, looking Yoongi dead straight in the eye.

“No,” he replies, too stern for the younger boy to truly believe.

Yoongi clenches his teeth. This run down, poor excuse of a motel was his only shot at finding you. Now, it felt like there were no other options but to wait. And he hated waiting.

Yoongi’s eyelids were growing heavy and he felt about ready to collapse from the coldness of his wet skin. This is not how he wanted to end the day off, with mild hypothermia and a broken heart.

“Then can I stay here,” Yoongi pleads, taking another step forward much to the old man’s dismay. “Just for tonight.”

He grunts in response.

“I’ll pay extra. It’s just...”

He trails off, not quite knowing how much he should reveal to a total stranger. There was still a possibility this guy would know he is, but judging from the lack of interest, Yoongi assumed it was safe to just confide in someone. Anyone.

“My girlfriend walked out on me and I need to stay in this area just in case the police find her around here,” he says in a single breath. “Then why this place?” the old man sighs. “There’s plenty of high-end hotels on this street you could stay at.”

He takes a look once more at Yoongi’s feet.

“And you’re ruining the carpet,” he grumbled.

Yoongi bites his lip, now in front of the secretarial desk. This man was pissing him off. Yoongi digs into the pocket of his jeans and takes out his wallet. He smacks a wad of cash onto it, staring at the man dead in the eye.

“Is this enough?” he asks through gritted teeth. The man scoffs and pushes the money away.

Your girlfriend isn’t here, kid. Now get lost before I call the cops on you.”

Yoongi pulls out more, his eyes now getting teary-eyed. The man stares at Yoongi’s shaking fingers. He was quite persistent, wasn't he?

“I just need a place to fucking stay,” Yoongi repeats with more of a timber in his voice. The old man stares at Yoongi directly, the first time he's met eyes with another person in a while.

“You’re the type to think money fixes everything- aren’t you?”

The man glares at him. Yoongi’s mouth opens slightly. You had said those words to him just earlier in the night. He pulls his hand back but leaves the money on the counter.

“N-no,” he says through bated breaths. “I’m not usually like this, I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi ruffles his hair and wipes a stray tear out of his eye.

“I’m just really desperate to find her,” he continues. “I’ve just been acting like a fucking dumbass for the past few hours.”

The old man sucked in a deep breath before exhaling loudly. ‘This was a pitiful sight indeed,’ he thought to himself. 

“What’s your name, kid?”

Yoongi wanted to introduce himself as Suga by instinct, but he knew it probably would not have occurred to the old man who you were.

“Yoongi,” he says slowly. “Min Yoongi.”

The old man looks at his list and sure enough, the name you had given him was right there. Your ex. It wasn’t any of his business to help fix a broken couple, but it was in his best interest to get this weeping boy out of his lobby. He takes a pair of keys from under the table. 

“I’m not letting you stay because all the rooms are booked,” he states throwing the keys to Yoongi who was caught off-guard. “I’ll let you take this one, but you better not bring the feds here. I’m not ready for this place to shut down again.”

Yoongi nods, slightly confused about why he would hold back giving him a room in the first place. He muttered a small thanks before bowing to the older male.

“Now get out of the lobby,” he scolded, glaring at the wet footprints Yoongi left behind.

He took a look at the keys to see the room number. B28. 

—

You were ready to drift off into sleep but it seems the world has a way of wanting you to fear for your life.

You heard a jingling noise at your door, the doorknob turning as if a key was inserted. You held your breath, afraid for your life. You stood up quietly, grabbing the rather large lampshade next to your bed. ‘This motel was shady for a reason,’ you thought to yourself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath. You got ready into a tackling stance, the lampshade in hand. You took enough self-defense classes to know what you’re doing. When it swung open, the door almost hit you on the face. That didn't deter you though and so you charged at the stranger with all your might.

“Woah,” Yoongi shouts as he just missed your swing, pivoting to the side as you stumbled past him. You recognized that voice in an instant and you locked eyes with Yoongi who was noticeably soaked and carrying your handbag. It was embarrassing, how badly you missed, and he would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the context of the situation. 

You stood up straight and give him a glare. Somehow, it made you angrier seeing his face, but you couldn’t quite express that anger when Yoongi brought you into his arms almost immediately. The lampshade and bag fell onto the rug with a thud and you were engulfed by his body.

“[Y/N],” he sighed into your hair, the anxiety of losing you now gone from his mind. He pulls away, examining your body.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi says, panic laced in his voice. “I was so fucking worried something happened. You left your stuff in the car and I brought them with me just in case and-”

You push him away, annoyed with the wet droplets that now stained your robe.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yelled. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“The old man let me in,” Yoongi swallowed. “I guess he knew that I needed to see you.” You roll your eyes. You knew that old fart couldn’t be trusted.

“Well get out,” you say frankly. “I don’t want to see you.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking you back home.”

You take a step back from him.

“Yoongi,” you say, scarily slow. “Give me my bag and leave. I’m not going to say it again.”

You try to reach for the bag that was on the floor next to him, but he pulled it away.

“I thought I fucking lost you, you know that?” his voice was shaking. “I thought you’d be gone and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Yoongi looked at you with pleading eyes and it almost made you want to comfort him. Almost.

“Well you did,” you reply sternly.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“I’m tired [Y/N],” he admits sadly, dropping the wet bag onto the bed. “I don’t know what else to do besides apologize.”

You grit your teeth.

“Leave.”

Yoongi shakes his head and you cringe as he sits down, the bed getting wet because of him. It would’ve made you even more pissed if it weren’t for the tears spilling from your eyes.

“I thought I fucking lost you,” he sighs into his hands. You could hear a shakiness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Yoongi was always quieter in how he expressed his feelings. He isn’t the type to just cry outright.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to apologize in the morning,” he tried to say, but you could tell he was a bit choked up, “that I fucked everything up and you’d still be missing or you’d wound up dead or something.” He grounds his face into his palms and it genuinely made you feel sorry for him. You did kind of leave without a trace.

“And its fucking raining,” he says a little more calmly, looking up at you with red eyes. “You hate when you get stuck in the rain.”

It broke your heart, the way he chuckled sadly at his own statement. For the first time ever, it felt like he was the broken one and not you.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, setting aside his wet bangs. You were calmer now. “Go home.”

He shakes his head and leans into your touch.

“I can’t sleep without you by my side,” he whispers and you swear you could hear your heart crack. You weren’t the only one to feel that way too...

You didn’t have the heart to forgive him, but you couldn’t let him go back out in the pouring rain.

“You can stay here,” you say. “I’ll find another room.”

He grabs your wrists and intertwines his hands into yours.

“Please,” he pleads. “Just stay with me. I’ll leave before you wake up.”

You wanted so desperately to say no, but it was clear now that Yoongi was just as hurt as you were. It was in the way he held your hands as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. His fingers were shaky and you could do nothing but comply.

You nod despite it all and detach yourself from him to close the door. You walk over to the closet and take out a spare robe. You hand it to him without a second glance, moving to the other side of the bed.

“Tell the police to stop searching,” you say as you lay underneath the sheets that weren’t dampened by Yoongi. “You found me.”

The words, strangely, were enough to comfort him. He called the head officer and with much difficulty, got everything to be cleared out. He’d have to suffer the consequences tomorrow, but for now, he just wanted to search for comfort in your presence.

Pretty soon he laid next to you in his new robe. You turn to face away from him, afraid of making eye-contact. You were always too forgiving when you looked him in the eyes. Yoongi didn’t make any movement to get closer, he just watched your slowing breaths and wondered to himself.

“You are good enough,” he says into the night. It came out of nowhere and it makes your heart stop momentarily.

“Earlier when you said you didn’t feel good enough to be with me,” he starts off with his voice incredibly low. “You are good enough.”

You take a deep breath to prevent yourself from being too emotional. You turn to face him, about to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I’m not going to apologize again, don’t worry,” he swallows. “I just wanted to let you know that you mean much more to me than I show.”

He closes his eyes for a second before continuing on.

“I’m bad at keeping relationships,” he says honestly, “but I want to stay with you... as long as you would let me.”

You laugh through the sadness of it all. You two were far too tired to have a screaming match with one another and it felt good to just talk rather than yell.

“Yoongi, why did you tell Hoseok you didn’t want to be with me?” you ask, no ill intent in your voice. “I want a genuine answer.”

You could feel him shuffle around in the bed out of discomfort. 

“I was mad at you,” he said as nicely as he could put it. “I was frustrated that you kept asking me to reveal our relationship to the public.”

You stay still, worried about what he would say next. It would be the final blow to your already crumbled pride.

“It’s stupid to even admit it and I don’t have any real excuses, but...”

He somehow couldn’t finish his sentence.

“But what?”

He sighs and turns the other way. Now he was the one ignoring confrontation.

“I liked that we were our own little secret you know?” he starts and you feel your blood boil a little at his words, but he continued. “So much of my life is broadcasted to the world and I feel like nothing is really mine anymore. Every single moment is dedicated to my fans and whenever you ask me to let that go, it just feels like I’m losing a part of myself more and more. The part that isn’t an idol.”

You understood what he meant, but at the same time, you felt like it was oddly selfish of him.

“I don’t like being a secret, Yoongi,” you say to him. No anger in your voice, just disappointment. He clenches his fist.

“Yeah, I understand that,” he whispers back. “I’m sorry.”

You reach out a hand towards him and he shivers at your touch. You pull into him, laying your head on his shoulder blade.

“You said you wouldn’t say it anymore,” you mutter into his body. 

He shrugs.

“I don’t think I’ve said it enough,” he admits, holding your hand in his. This was how he wanted to end the day off- with you by his side.

“I’m sorry too,” you say and he feels himself crumble at your words. He turns around slowly and engulfs you in his arms.

“Moments like this,” he sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “I want it to be between us.”

“It would still be you and me, no matter what,” you reply.

“I know,” he says solemnly. “But people will try to get between us and I doubt want to hurt you more than I already have.”

You nod along, but you could feel tears start to prick in your eyes.

“I just don’t want to feel like you’re hiding me from everyone,” you admit. “Being with you should be enough, but somehow it isn’t.”

He strokes your head and the two of you don’t speak any longer. 

“I’m sorry.”

You find yourself unable to cry at his words. It seems like he had given up and to you, that’s what frightened you the most. You clench onto him as if he’d disappear at any moment. A few minutes ago, that’s all you would have wanted, but now it seemed like you’d die without him by your side. He eases your panic by rubbing your back and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. He stares off into the darkness of the motel room, whispering to no one in particular.

“I’ll do better.”

—

You find yourself alone the next morning, sprawled out on the bed. Your phone and bag were left on the nightstand and the lampshade went back to its proper place. He left you in the room as if he wasn’t there in the first place. You take a look at the closet and see that he laid out clothes for you from home. Tears start to fall. It was over, wasn’t it?

Last night felt like a goodbye, like a last farewell. Maybe you were asking for it in the way you shouted at him the night before, but your heart was still heavy at the thought of him leaving. You didn’t hate him, you could never hate him, but both of you said so many horrible things last night that you wonder if it could ever be taken back.

You get yourself dressed and walk down to the lobby where the wet footprints of last night no longer stained the carpet. You lock eyes with the old man and slide the keys to him. You take out your wallet, prepared to pay until he stops you.

“He covered it already.”

Your jaw drops slightly and you clutch the cash in your fingers.

“You let him into my room,” you accuse. “I told you to tell him I wasn’t here.”

He ignores your watchful gaze, arranging some stuff on his desk that was already quite pristine.

“You got the closure you wanted, didn’t you?” he grumbled. 

“That’s not the point. He could’ve been a serial killer for all you know and you-”

“But he wasn’t,” the old man rolled his eyes. “He was your ex that fucking paid twice the amount you pulled out. I promise you, your safety was a passing thought to me.”

You sigh angrily, scrounging through your purse. Your phone was charged, presumably from Yoongi, and so you called a friend to get you out of this dingy motel. You’d report this crusty old man later. Surprisingly she picked up quite quickly.

“Hey-”

“[Y/N]!” she screeched through the other line. “Look at the news! Oh my fucking god, Yoongi just-”

Your hands were shaking, not paying attention to the rest of her words. Nothing bad could have happened from last night, could it? You hung up before she could screech in your ears once again. 

You couldn’t type out his name on your phone fast enough from how shaky your hands were until you heard the sound of the lobby television turn on. The old man had the remote in his hand and he gave you a smirk. You turn your attention away from him and toward the screen instead.

“BigHit Entertainment confirms that BTS’s Suga is in a relationship,” the announcer states with a stern voice. “He asks for people not pry on the identity of his non-celebrity girlfriend and any malicious comments or rumors will be legally dealt with by his agency. More updates soon.”

You felt your eyes tear up, happiness swelling on your chest. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe he actually did it.

“You’re welcome, you know,” the old man said slyly. You ignore his words, slapping a rather large sum of money on the desk before rushing outside. You call him this time, happy tears streaming down your face. Yoongi didn’t even have a chance to say hello before you started talking.

“I love you,” you scream into your phone. You repeat the words so much that you could hear your own echo. 

“Babe, I’m getting scolded right now,” he laughed. “I’ll talk to you later okay? No celebrations yet.”

You nod, slightly worried about his statement.

“You’re going to be okay, right?” you ask worriedly. “They’re not planning to kick you out or anything?”

He scoffs.

“And lose one of their best songwriters? Not a chance.”

You shake your head.

“Still cocky as always though,” you tease.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

You purse your lips. He had to make a lot of sacrifices too.

“I love you,” he says lowly. “And I’m not gonna make you ever doubt that again.”

You close your eyes at the sound of his confession. It felt genuine like he didn’t say it just to end an argument. It felt real.

“I love you too.”

He gives a toothy grin, knowing full well that you aren’t able to see how stupidly satisfied his face is. The managers looked at him with watchful gazes and he nervously coughed, wiping the smile off of his.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” he replies, “You know, in our home.”

You smile lightly.

“Okay, see you later then,” you say, already listing all the complications that come with going public, but you’re much happier nonetheless. There’d be no more rumors of him dating other girls or random idols trying to set themselves up with him. Maybe there’d still be doubts, but in the end, you’d figure out a way to work it out. That’s how relationships are after all. “Goodbye,” he said cheerily through the receiver, trying to ignore the staff members telling him to hang up the phone. “I love you [Y/N].”

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you giggle at his repeated confession. “I love you too.”

—

A/N: I didn’t want to end this off on a bad note but I didn’t want to end it off on a super good note either. Of course, problems will still arise in a relationship so I left it off kind of bittersweet (more sweet in this case) but yeah. Thanks again to @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom​ for being so amazing and so patient with this, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know how you guys feel!! Leave me any comments, criticism, anything! 

I know some of you guys wanted an angst ending but I do too many angst endings and I just feel like I wanted to switch things up you know?? Also... keep an eye out for my drabble game that I’ll post in a few days. I will accept the first ten requests ;)

PS: I don’t respond to comments on my stories because this is my side blog so if I reply back it’ll be on my main blog :((( I’ll try to figure out a way so that I can respond to you guys because I really want to be more interactive. Let me know if you guys have loopholes for this problem thank youuu

[youarejesting]

Kookies, Trojans & Malware

[Sparks Masterlist]

[Tag Yourself]

Beta: @nightshadevinter​ Pairing: Robot!Jungkook x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, Action, Adventure, Romance. Words: 7.6k

Summary: Jungkook is a robot police officer. He obeys and upholds the laws. After mistaking you for the criminal you open up his world and soon he is ready and willing to break the law for you.

You were making an honest living selling romance novels and the latest was about a robot carer and a sick human; right at the end there was a hint of love. Having just got off the phone with your publisher, the story had gone viral. Everyone was asking for a robot-human love story, but you didn't know if you could write about that without having written from a robot’s perspective. You hadn't even met a robot outside of general shopping or passing them by on the street. 

You really liked the idea but wished you had some sort of extensive interaction with a robot. But this wasn’t the case. Your phone alarm went off, you had to pay rent, before the landlord called. But when you checked your bank there was a strange transaction going into your bank. It was from two days ago for a huge sum of 50,000,000KRW

This was super strange, you wondered why the police or bank hadn’t been calling or breaking down your door. That must only happen in movies, you turned back to your computer. The door was kicked open smashing into the wall beside you, making you squeak with shock as the place was flooded with police officers holding guns.

Restrained by someone you heard them recite your rights, "Good evening, I, police officer, robot division, Jeon Jungkook have come to place you under arrest for suspected fraud. Anything you say or do can be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you can't afford one, one will be given to you. I am a robot police officer..." he spoke through the whole spiel. 

You sighed exasperated, this isn't what you had in mind when you said you wanted to interact with a robot. "I am always recording, if you are uncomfortable with a robot police officer I will step aside and let my fellow officers take over"

You blinked slowly as he walked you out the hall, it wasn’t much of an apartment and the old lady next door peaked out her door to watch you get taken away. They would definitely talk while you were away. "We will head to the patrol vehicle and take you back to the station where we will interrogate you"

"Wait sir, uh... robot man, my cat?" You said, making him stop and look down at you whilst trying to process the meaning of your words. She was an odd cross-eyed most of the time but you loved her, she could hardly take care of herself while you were there. How would she survive on her own? You would implore to bring her with you.

"Your cat?" The robot repeated as a meow was heard behind you. He turned eyes wide looking at the animal who had stepped into the hallway "What about your feline companion?"

"Well, we can't let her get hurt, can I take her with me?" You asked, looking up at him hopeful, “She is only a little baby.”

"I am unsure?" He tilted his head, you could practically see him searching for an answer in his hard robes. The lights scanning past his eyes were an indication of his exploration of protocols and policies when it came to pets.

"If you leave a defenseless animal on their own they will die. Isn't a police officer's job to protect?" You countered hoping his system would understand that. You had never tried to outsmart a robot but you thought you could make a compelling argument.

He paused again, thinking over your words, before nodding, "Obtain your feline companion and we shall continue the arrest" He uncuffed your wrists but held them firmly in his hands making you look up at his stern eyes. “I am warning you if you try to run I will have to restrain you.

You grabbed your cat packing a small bag of food, and a small bag of litter, and a clean tray. Watching the officers in your apartment taking your things for evidence. Taking the cat and scooping her into the small cat carrier you walked back over to officer Jeon, “I must cuff you as is procedure, but I assure you, the animal will not be harmed."

You placed down the cage holding your hands behind your back letting him re-cuff your wrists. He leaned down gently picking up the cage his large hand secured around the handle. He guided you along and you tried to turn back to study him some more, "mister robot man?"

"My name is cyber office Jeon Jungkook." He looked straight ahead and you smirked at the professional personality programmed into his hard drives. The cat made a small meow and he adjusted the cage holding it in a way that kept it still as he walked.

"Sorry, um I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions later?" This would be an amazing opportunity to gather intel about robots for your next story. He was handsome and moved with such poise, there was a faint hum under his skin like the buzz of electricity in the air when your apartment got quiet.

"You have the freedom and right to speak" he smiled, you saw the Police cruiser just across the street and headed for it but he pulled you to the right and the two of you were walking away from the vehicle and down the street.

“Are we walking to the station?” You laughed sarcastically.

“No, though I am equipped with GPS and am fully charged and able to walk to the police station, I feel it would be much more comfortable for humans and more time-efficient to take the police cruiser parked across the road, driven by officer Han” He replied seriously gesturing to the very same police cruiser you were walking away from.

"It was sarcasm,” You snorted, “If that is your car, why are we walking away? where are you going?"

"To the intersection, Jaywalking is illegal" He sighed, checking on the animal which was moving around the carrier “I apologize I don’t often pick up human nuances. Perhaps you would be so kind as to teach me more?”

"Okay..." You hummed, the two of you finally reached the pedestrian crossing, you went to cross but he didn't budge, making you fall back and hit his broad chest "What, why did you stop?"

"We must wait for the pedestrian light to turn green indicating that it is safe to cross," He said as if he was reciting it for children and you rolled your eyes. 

"You follow every rule?" You questioned his dedication to the cause.

"I follow all rules." he said with a definite tone like he couldn’t be swayed.

"So what happens if the light is red but across the street, there was a man stealing a woman's handbag. You would have to wait for the light to turn green before crossing and pursuing the criminal and by that time he would have gotten away and may have even killed someone. When you could have captured him and saved lives and stopped more crimes. I mean really are you not aiding and abetting the criminal by watching them getaway.”

You saw him process this information until the light turned green, the symbol of the walking man prompting the robot to walk briskly across the road. As you walked back to the car you laughed “Your police officer friends are Jaywalking, you should write them a ticket.”

“My fellow police officers are the exception, I cannot turn against them,” He said, seeming to not understand this element of his instructions either.

“So if your fellow officers go rogue and shoot someone innocent you let them, they need to uphold the law so they should be the prime example, should they not?” 

“I don’t know, I must ask the sergeant and review my policies and procedures” You both finally got to the car, officer Jeon opened the door placing the cat down on the curb and turning to you, "you must sit in the back. Please mind your head"

He placed his hand over your head and guided you into the vehicle and even leaned over to buckle you in. "I will place your cat in the seat next to you" You were soon on your way to the police station. Where you were ushered into the interrogation room with Jungkook who held your cat carrier and bag.

The interrogation began and you were told to answer truthfully. 

“What is your name?” Officer Jeon asked with no writing or recording impliments.How was he recording your answers? Was he literally recording your answers?

“How about this, I will answer one of your questions, officer, and you answer one of my questions.” You asked curiously.

“What is your name, miss?” he asked again.

“My name is (Your full name),” You said and he nodded just as he opened his mouth to speak you asked your question quickly, “How do you record my answers without a pen and paper or laptop, and when you record my answers how does it get into the police system?” 

He didn’t answer looking at you and you leaned forward, “Come on it was my turn you have to be fair,”

“I am completely fair and just” he sat up straighter how that was possible for the prim and proper robot your would never know, “I record everything, it is saved on my system and the back up system whilst also being wirelessly sent to the national system where it is filed and finally everything is live fed to the bureau.”

“That’s really nifty. So you are recording everything now, where from?” You looked him up and down.

“That was more than one question miss y/n, I thought you were being fair and just, I am recording everything,” he raised one finger with a smirk and gesticulating another as he continued, “my eyes are the camera and my ears record everything I hear. That is two questions for me.”

“Correct,” You leaned in a little more intrigued further by his systems and personality and all that they entailed. He asked how old you were and where you lived and you answered leaning a little more over the desk. “What do you like to do?”

“What?” He looked shocked

“Hey you can’t answer a question with a question,” You pouted and he shut his mouth processing the meaning of your words, “You can just ask me to explain you don’t have to search everything. What do you like to do? it means like what are your hobbies?”

“Officer Han likes playing poker” He said slowly

“No, I asked what you like to do, not him,” You laughed at his expression. He seemed stumped “Like when you aren’t working.”

“I am always working and when I am not working I am charging” He said “Now, I have some questions about the recent activity in your bank…”

You were shocked all he knew was work and sleep, it was uncommon for humans to only know these two traits as well but you hoped he got to do something.

“Have you ever watched a movie?” You blurted out and he froze in the middle of reciting dates to you.

“I have obtained information from many movies, I understand pop culture references and have a list of top one hundred famous movie quotes in my system.”

“But have you seen them, like at a movie theatre?”

“No I haven’t.” He said looking impassive but you felt a little upset, sure he was a robot but that didn’t mean he had to spend his entire life working. You had no more questions for him after that finding you were a little scared to find out more. 

You were made to stay overnight in the cell. It was nice for a cell, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in but you, the bedding was freshly washed and pressed. What fancy cell was this? “It’s nice huh, at night Jungkook washes all the bedding and when he wakes up he makes the beds.”

“Is he allowed holidays?” You asked, “He only works, haven’t you tried to let him see other things outside of work.” 

“I am afraid he wouldn’t understand it, he is meticulous with his programs and doesn’t understand many other concepts.” The man said, watching officer Jeon walk over with a tray of food, “Good job Jungkook, you did a wonderful job”

“Hey officer Jeon, would you like to sit and have dinner with me?” You sat on the floor and gestured to the floor in front of you, he tilted his head.

“I don’t eat food miss y/n,” He smiled “I am a robot,”

“What do robots eat?” you grinned curiously, he ran off and came back with a bottle of something.

“Everyday I drink this liquid and every night before recharging I expel the old liquid, it keeps everything running smoothly.” He smiled pouring himself a cup.

“Well come sit with me and we can eat together,” You gestured and he sat smiling and you held up your cup and he held up his and you clicked glasses. Something flickered in his eyes. 

You watched him take a long drink as you took a sip and he stopped pulling the glass back down, swallowing thickly. He held the cup looking at the liquid inside and whenever you would take a sip he would drink a little more liquid.

The two of you were talking all night and you had finished your food and drink but he still held the cup sipping slowly watching you tell him about how you were afraid of trains, because when you were a kid you had been left on a train and bad things happened. “You have been holding that empty cup for ten minutes now Jungkook, you can’t fool me. Oh! I mean Officer Jeon.”

“It’s okay, I finished after you told me about the story about the sick human and the robot caregiver.” He grinned, “I liked that one, it is nice to see the robot caregiver being able to help the sick human.”

“You are getting tired, Miss y/n, it’s time to sleep” He said softly as you stood walking the tray to the door of the cell and he took the tray and left. You got into the bed and officer Jeon sat at his desk plugging a cord into his arm. You saw his shoulders slump indicating that he had powered down to charge and you closed your eyes falling asleep.

 ~

The next morning brought with it your discharge from the overnight cells, the officers thanked you for your cooperation and gave you a card in case you needed to contact them. Officer Jeon and Han drove you back to your apartment.

Officer Jeon insisted on carrying the cat carrier up the stairs. It seemed when the officer had woken up, your cat had snuck out of her cage and slept on his lap. The two continued to play throughout the morning and when you woke it almost seemed like the robot police officer was a little brighter.

You arrived at your apartment and watched as he tried to find where to put the cage. He was so endearing, you were going to ask even though you think you knew the answer. “Would you like to go to the movies with me, to watch a movie?”

He was snapped out of his dilemma of where to put the cage looking almost regretful, as he was about to turn you down. You took a deep breath, and opened your mouth to downplay it as just a friendly offer to get him away from work when a screeching of tires sounded outside your apartment. 

The two of you ran to the window and saw Officer Han shot down. There were beeping sounds coming from the robot officer and you looked at him horrified. “I just called for backup. Stay here and I will restrain them.” He said and the men started shouting and running into the building.

You heard them say your name and you knew his robot ears did too, “You are in danger. Do everything I tell you and stay behind me.” He looked at the cat cage and went to go out the apartment door and you caught his hand, “Follow me down the fire escape?”

The two of you got out and ran to the police car, Han’s was still alive, but barely. “Move him to the back seat, we will take him to the hospital” You whispered, trying not to panic., “Can you drive?”

“Well yes, but I can’t do car chases its against the law, that's why Han’s drives” He said, 

“Okay, Jungkook I need you to get in the passenger seat and close your eyes and don’t open them until we get there, I want you to get a GPS to the hospital and turn on the sirens” He nodded 

“Go straight.” You took off and the sirens were put on, true to his word he kept his eyes shut allowing you to maneuver through the traffic and got to the hospital stopping in the emergency bay. “We are here. Can I open my eyes?” 

“No wait,” you moved around the car and opened his door as the doctors ran out to grab officer Han. Leaning over Jungkook you took off his seat belt looking up. You got lost in his features, they were so smooth and his eyelashes were so long and you wanted to touch his hair. You let out a shaky breath and he seemed to feel it against his cheek, the cat carrier on his lap stirred and a meow was heard between you.

His eyes drifted open and focused on you, you were flustered. “I am in trouble, I am getting orders to return. They are wondering why I left the scene of the crime, I don’t know why I listened to a civilian. It went against all the policies and procedures, you broke the law.” He pushed the cat carrier into your hands and drove you back to the station. 

“Officer Jeon, you defied orders and you left a crime scene, let the two gunmen get away, can you explain why this is?” The sergeant said, you sat in the corner as a suspect to this crime and you had to give a statement regarding officer Han’s shooting.

This was it you were going to get in trouble for saving a police officer, “When I saw officer Han, I just moved instinctively to save him.” Your mouth fell open, he just lied, he cyber police officer Jeon Jungkook just lied to the sergeant, isn’t that against everything he stands for.

“I want you to hand over the footage of this incident?” The sergeant said

“There is none” He said “My wires shorted out and there is no footage from getting in the car to getting to the hospital”

Another lie. What is happening?

“Jeon Jungkook, you are going to be scheduled for maintenance at the end of the month.” The sergeant said “You are off active duty until then”

After all the more important officers left, Jungkook slumped into his chair. “Officer Jeon, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get taken off duty. I just wanted to save your partner officer Han, he was going to die”

“I don’t know what to do for twenty-one days, sixteen hours, forty-three minutes and eleven seconds. Ten seconds” He stated with no emotion, “Nine seconds.”

“You could come stay with me, my cat already loves you. Plus what if those guys come back,” You smiled and he looked up at the two of you before nodding. Grabbing a small supply of the special liquid he drinks the two of you took a taxi back to your apartment. 

~

Jungkook looked around; he wasn’t wearing his uniform but instead was wearing a tracksuit. Looking him up and down you laughed, “First we need to find you some clothes. I am pretty sure I have some old clothes of my dad’s, I couldn’t part with them all these years so now I guess I can finally get some use out of them.” 

You found him a button up and some dress pants and he went to get changed. When he stepped out you could help but tear up a little, “What is wrong?” Jungkook strode across the room and looked at you, “Have I done something to offend you or make you upset?”

“No, no” you sniffed, laughing at his over the top reaction. “I just miss my father.”

“Where is he?”

“He passed away a few years ago,” You said and Jungkook seemed to slowly process that information but struggled to comprehend the extent of the feeling.

“I am sorry for your loss,” He sighed, “I wish humans were like Robots, there are rarely any deaths, just missing data that can be restored. I don’t think I could ever truly understand permanent death.”

“Imagine the people you love and care for, your friends and people you work with and you are having a great time and death is never having that again,” It was an odd way of explaining it but you think it summed it up well enough. Jungkook’s eyes flashed and he nodded seeming to file the information away to review.

You took Jungkook out. it was his first day off and you were going to make it special, dragging him to the movies you tried to find something fairly new that his internet filled head wouldn’t have seen. If Jungkook was all about the law he wouldn’t be watching bootlegs on the dark web.

You pulled him into a romantic comedy, part of it was because you wanted to watch it and another part was for research to see how Jungkook would act. He seemed engaged watching the couple fall in love with their little awkward moments.

There was a scene where the main character and the love interest were locked in a gaze. It made your heart beat quickly, it was such a heavy feeling. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably and you wondered if he felt it.

After the movie the two of you headed to an aquarium and after the aquarium you were heading home when you passed a busker and you started dancing giving them some money and laughing as you swayed to the beat. Dragging Jungkook to dance with you, he seemed a little nervous but you were quick to praise him. His eyes locked on the Robot with a shirt that read ‘hope world’ dancing and he analysed the moves joining in. 

The two of you headed home and you ordered yourself some dinner. The two of you sat down while he drank and you talked about the movie. “Why did it get slow when the two of them locked eyes?” Jungkook asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room you had wanted to bring up. 

“Well when you fall in love with someone it's like your heart speeds up but everything stops working and all you can think about is that someone.” You said he processed it, eyes flashing, it was like neither of you wanted to go to bed. You had started watching ‘Circuit Chef’ the host was hilarious and he had a new sidekick who really livened up the show.

“I didn’t know robots could do other things” Jungkook said “I just assumed we were all the same, but after reading your book and looking around I can see robots have many functions, but why can’t we have all of them? Humans can do anything they want but us Robots are only programmed to do such a small portion.”

“I want to be human, I want to do everything, try everything” he sighed, “Now that I am off duty I can’t even uphold the law or I will get in trouble, I am just a basic command robot.”

“Then I command you to try everything you ever wanted to do, act like a human.” Yawning, Jungkook looked at you, seeing how your eyes were closed and your head had fallen onto his shoulder. He thought you were asleep, he scooped you up and your eyes opened. 

“I am sorry I thought you were asleep,” He apologized but continued walking you to the bed, he laid you down tucking you in. Jungkook paused for a moment searching for something in your expression, a flash in his eyes and he stood straight up and scrambled looking at his forearm, “I have to go charge.”

You couldn’t be sure if you dreamt it but for a moment there you thought maybe he was going to kiss you, whatever it was you had fallen asleep before you could dwell on it further. 

~

The next day you woke to a delicious smell in the kitchen and when you stepped out Jungkook had made a range of meals and when he saw you he smiled brightly. “Look what I made, I can cook like Circuit chef Kim Seokjin.”

“That’s really good, did you cook everything in the house.” You sat down eating some of the dishes and grinning. “Wow, kookie this is tasty.”

“What did you call me?” He asked, pausing in the middle of mixing some batter. The frilly apron he was wearing looked cute on him. 

“I called you Kookie, it’s a nickname,” looking at all the food you frowned, “Kookie, you have to put the food into dishes and pack it away in the fridge and freezer for me to eat over the next year.”

“That is a joke,” He pointed at you and chuckled, “I have been learning about jokes from Robot Hyung Kim Seokjin,”

“I’m glad you have been having fun?” You grinned at the young man in your kitchen, noticing some flour in his hair, wondering if that would ruin how soft it looked. “Wait, stay still you have flour in your hair?”

“Lean down a little, okay, stay there,” The flour had been wet when it had touched the few affected strands, now it was dry and reminded you of papier-mâché. 

You gently removed it and ran your fingers through his soft tresses trying to dust away any loose strands of flour, or at least that was the excuse you were using. Jungkook didn’t even seem to notice, he sat there bent slightly, his head in front of your face, his eyes looking down. 

You moved his head around and looked at his fringe making sure there was no flour there. “Are you waterproof?”

“Yes,” he grinned, looking you in the eyes you felt your heart skip a beat as you watched his lips form the next words. “I take showers at the station once a week unless told otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“I think you may need to shower when you finish cooking?” You said and went to the bathroom, to get him a towel and everything. Jungkook stepped into the bathroom and began taking off his shirt and you turned away. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked, folding up the shirt and placing it on the bench. 

“Nothing, I will let you shower,” you left, hoping your cheeks hadn’t reddened further. You heard the water running and let out a sigh, he was busy for now. 

The food was better than anything you could make and you were a great cook, so it was hard to admit. It was also hard to pack away when you were running out of Tupperware and fridge space. 

“I am done,” Jungkook called, as you slipped the last container into the fridge.  

“Kookie no more cooking today there is no room” you laughed, pressing the door to the fridge closed with all your strength until finally the door sealed shut. “I need to be able to eat all of this first.”

Turning you saw Jungkook standing with only a towel around his waist, you squealed, slapping your hands over your eyes. “What are you doing, half naked in the living room?”

“I had no more clothes,” He paused “Should I put those clothes back on?”

“No, I will find you some more,” You handed him some more of your fathers clothes and you left the room so he could change, undisturbed. That didn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder. 

Jungkook was ripped, his body literally made to perfection, his back was so broad. He was built lean and yet his biceps were the size of your calves. You sat on the couch, closing your eyes and indulging in the sight that you had been blessed with.

You shouldn’t be thirsting over a robot? But it was so hard not too when he looked like he was an actual adonis. You took a few breaths in an attempt to still your beating heart, and opened your phone, you began searching news websites for information of Robots being weird.

Nothing had been posted except an advertisement for an experiment trial with robots designed for personal pleasure. You quickly close that tab not wanting to think about that any further. You had almost given up hope until you saw it.

My Robot is acting weird.

It was a reddit forum and you were quick to jump on and read the stories of robots doing things that they weren’t programmed to do and questioning things. Acting dare you say it? Human. It was a scary thought but you weren’t the only one who thought the same. Someone had said that their robot was developing feelings and emotions and becoming more human per day.

Jungkook exited the room and shuffled nervously. Was he programmed to be a little shy? One would hope not, being a police officer. Maybe this was what they meant on the forum? Or, maybe you were reading too far into it? Yes that had to be it.

You took Jungkook through the town and the two of you stopped by a bar. It was a modern style and super clean, you found a booth and sat down, The waiter was a long legged robot who moved so elegantly and you were lost for a moment in his movements.

“Good evening, can I take your order?” He said his voice soft and sweet like an angel. You felt your ears go warm and you asked for a glass of wine. You were really only here to let Jungkook experience everything he wanted and he did wonder earlier about what it was like to drink at a bar. “And should I get you some oils or coolants sir?”

“No thank you,” Jungkook huffed, turning away, the waiter wilted at the rudeness and nodded leaving the table.

“Jungkook, why were you being so rude?” You asked looking at him and he blanched, you could see he wasn’t happy but you couldn’t figure out why. All you did was order wine from the attractive robot waiter. Wait. Was he jealous? Because you were ogling the waiter?

“I am not being rude, I just don’t want any cheap coolant or oils, I only drink the best” He puffed up his chest and lifted his chin turning away. He was like a petulant child. While waiting for your drink you began writing the outline for your story and sending it to the editor to liaison to the publishing company, seeing if it was worthy to write.

Your drink was bought back and you saw Jungkook bristle again. “Um, I am sorry if I offended you, my name is Jimin and over there is my owner and the love of my life, I wasn’t trying to hit on your girlfriend or anything?”

Jungkook almost visibly relaxed and the two started talking quickly in a series of beeps that made you giggle writing down a few more dot points for your next book. Jimin left with a wave and a thank you toward you both and he went back to the counter. 

You saw him kiss the bartenders cheek and he pouted when the bartender shrugged him off to focus on her work. Jungkook watched the two happily and you stood up, “Excuse me Jungkook, I just want to talk to the bartender, is that okay?”

He nodded as you were walking to the bar when Jimin passed holding glasses of coolant, one for each robot. Sitting at the bar you smiled “Hey, do you mind if I ask some questions about your robot?”

“What do you want to know?” She looked up, handing a drink over to a customer who went and sat down. It was a monday so it was pretty quiet. 

“I was wondering if he has done anything strange, something he isn’t programmed to do or even started developing thoughts, ideas and feelings?” You said, “That robot is a police officer who physically cannot break the law and yet he did it for me, he lied to protect me and not two seconds ago got jealous of your robot, this isn’t normal behaviour, he isn’t programmed for any sort of relationship personality traits.”

“Half a month ago Jimin had a drink thrown at him, he went funny, I had programmed him to be gentle and kind and he shouted and practically threw some people out the bar. I did some maintenance and he told me he wanted to be my robot companion, you know the type?” She gave you a look and you flushed nodding. “After that I found out he was doing his own maintenance and upgrading, he has become so free now, he told me the programs made him feel limited”

“That’s exactly what Jungkook said, he said that he wanted to be human and not just one program, he was a police robot who never had a day off, had no hobbies installed and only worked and slept.” You explained stressing the simplicity of his systems. “Now, he likes to cook and dance and he wants to go see an art exhibition tomorrow and he is getting jealous and nervous, things he has never expressed before”

“That does sound odd,” She hummed “I have been thinking it for a while now and I heard someone may have an explanation but I haven’t had time to find them, perhaps because I am scared of what I am going to hear”

She slipped you a napkin with an address and looked up, “His name is Hitman Bang, he used to create robots and then something happened, that’s all I know?”

You returned home and began writing but not for the story, you started documenting everything you found, experiences and more. You were going to go to the art gallery tomorrow and then afterwards you would go see this mysterious man for information.

~

The next morning you woke early and got dressed, Jungkook was sitting on the couch waiting for you and he smiled face lighting up when he noticed you walk in. Giving a soft meow, your cat had lifted its head from his lap.

“Good morning,” The greeting was laced with excitement, you felt like you were on the edge of a discovery and you wanted to see it through until the end. The two of you were ready to see the art exhibition, it was from a university and there were many entrants who submitted their work.

Buying tickets at the door, Jungkook frowned, “In movies the man usually pays for things?” You turned to him a little shocked and also a little amused.

“Back in the day it was the man who earned money and the woman was locked up inside their house to do nothing but cook clean and have children. So men paid for everything.” You spoke softly, “Then women were allowed to work and vote but they were paid less than men and nowadays that still sometimes happens but in some places it is equal wage and that means I can buy things myself.”

“Oh,” He processed the information and searched a few things in his head, “This seems like something discussed a lot online, I am glad I have seen this side of things. I would like to thank you for using your money on me, I wish I had money so that I could pay for my own things as well”

“You don’t get paid!” You were outraged, he worked everyday of the year since he was manufactured and they didn’t pay him, didn’t let him enjoy anything fun. “Jungkook what is your birthday?” 

“I wasn’t born, I am a robot,” the word robot almost sounded bitter. “I was manufactured on the first of September”

“That was a few months ago, I am sorry I missed it, have you ever had a birthday party or gotten any gifts?” He stopped for a moment before he had completed his research online and turned back to you shaking his head. “Alright well I know it’s late but I will give you one birthday wish, you can ask for anything you want?”

The two of you finally reached the inside of the gallery past the lobby and Jungkook’s eyes met a code on the door that had information from the artists of each piece and their inspiration. He walked through and began explaining it all to you and it made you smile. Linking your arm with his, you laid your head on his shoulder and continued walking slowly.

He stopped, looking at the painting and he was frozen examining it. “This is beautiful.” He whispered, you looked at the painting it didn’t seem like much, just random overlapping shapes in strange colours. “It was painted by a robot named Taehyung, he says he fell in love with painting after a young woman taught him how. The next part is written in binary code but I can translate it. 

“My hair shows my basic emotions but this is a painting representing my love for the woman who taught me how to paint. When she kisses me it feels like my engines will explode. My system has a folder of her and everyday I file away new information.” He touched his chest and turned to you. The two of you walked to the address on the napkin, each stride ate the city ground away and you were in some less populated suburban streets. 

You passed a small advertisement of a woman kissing a man holding a bouquet of flowers, it was for a florist and Jungkook stopped underneath it. Taking his bicep in your hand you tried to offer him comfort without swooning over the size of his biceps. “Jungkook is everything okay?”

“Do you know how you said I had a birthday wish,” Jungkook looked at you, “I think I know what I want to try?”

“Okay, what do you want to try?” He leaned down and kissed you. It was awkward at first the way he was bent and just pressing his lips to yours but, he seemed to jolt, his engines beeping and his auto air compression units hissed to life. 

Jungkook’s hand cupped the back of your head and he tilted his head the opposite way and deepened the kiss naturally. He pulled away looking panicked and he ran off. You were frozen unsure if you should follow him or not, but you decide he is pretty good and knows how to fight and protect himself.

Ringing the doorbell a voice came over the intercom, “Name and business?” the voice stated. It sounded like a tired but refined man and you were a little nervous. The house though in an average neighborhood was quite posh.

“My name is Y/n and I was told you might have information as to why my robot is acting weird?” Your voice cracked giving away your nerves and he sighed the gate buzzing open. 

“Come in.”

Walking briskly to the front door you felt dwarfed by the sheer size of the house, it was almost laughable the grandeur design and the ostentatious presence it gave. The door was opened electronically and you moved inside taking off your shoes. “Good afternoon, my name is Hitman Bang, what is it you want to know?”

“I am in possession of a Police officer robot who has no other programs features or hobbies only his police programing, he has developed hobbies and interests without upgrades or downloads and he um, just kissed me and ran away outside the florist down the road?”

“I see,” He hummed leaning forward, “Let me tell you a story,”

He began telling you about a robot he programmed. “It was while I was working at Spark’s industry. His name was Lee-Hyun. He was the first love companion robot that was made, he was perfect and could be tailored to anyone's desires. He fell in love with a researcher that worked there, her name was Dae. He found out Dae was getting married and caught her and her fiance kissing. He rampaged and killed them both. He was inconsolable and had to be shut down.”

“You looked shocked, not every robot is like this, his feelings just manifested so strong due to the environment and seeing her with anyone else made him so angry. When we checked the records before he was shut down he uploaded a virus, something small that started affecting the bots and we got the virus under control and I quit, unable to work there anymore.”

“So this virus?” You asked, “does it make them feel real emotions like a human?”

“Yes, it will give them the emotional capacity and empathy of a human, they will love and hate and become curious” He ran his hand over his face, the only thing that worries me is if this virus leaks out what might happen, they will have emotions but they will have no teachers their understanding of right and wrong will no longer be objective, they will be influenced by their feelings not knowing how to control such strong emotions. The robots acting on impulse could get people hurt.”

~

You headed home wondering if you should tell Jungkook what you had learnt, the more you sat the more you seemed to stew over the words. It was true as humans you are taught how to control your emotions but for robots they were not they had no teachers. Perhaps, you could be his teacher.

“Jungkook I have something I need to tell you,” you called stepping into the apartment, you were met with a chilling sight. Jungkook wasn’t there and your cat was hiding in her tower but two men stood in your living room waiting. 

“Good evening,” They smiled, it wasn’t pleasant or reassuring. It was a nasty smile, “we won’t hurt you, we just want to get some information, if you cooperate we won’t have to use force.”

“We believe you have something of ours, some money and we would like you to come with us. leave your phone here” The other spoke, you nodded, walking to the table and placing your bag down, and your keys, your phone was still in your back pocket.

“May I feed my cat before we go, I assume I won’t be back for a while” They nodded, you headed to the pantry and bent down grabbing the bag of cat food, quickly sending a message to Jungkook. 

There are people in my house with guns. It was read instantly.

You stood back up grabbing a cup and filling the water bowl with water before placing the cup in the sink and the scoop back into the cupboard. In the safety of the cupboard you tried checking your phone once more when it beeped. You swore as you were grabbed by the hair and thrown onto the ground, the phone taken from your hands.

“Who are you messaging?” They asked, guns drawn.“Who is Kookie?”

“My robot companion,” you blushed

“Look lady, your robot isn’t going to help you, now get up” The pulled you up off the floor and dragged you to the door and to the elevator where you stopped. The elevator ride was awkward and when the doors opened there were police at the door guns drawn. 

You sighed with relief and Jungkook hugged the two gunmen getting arrested, “I thought you were going to die. I drove here and broke so many road rules. I jaywalked.” You laughed eyes watering, the elevator doors shut around you two and you didn’t move to fix it. “I thought you were going to die. All I could think of was us having such a wonderful time together and never having that again. It was like my heart sped up but everything stopped working and you were the only thing I cared about.”

He kissed you and you kissed back the adrenaline wearing off and your legs went weak. He caught you as the doors opened once more and the officers climbed in. They were going to your apartment to ask you a few questions.

Jungkook said he would stay the night and watch over you and you were grateful he didn’t run away again.

~

It was the end of the month and Jungkook was called back to the station he was being picked up to get maintenance but instead when he arrived with you nervous in tow he met the sergeant and asked to resign.

“I think my judgement has been compromised and I would like to be taken off the police force” He requested, the sergeant looked like he was in shock. “I do not wish to be upgraded or to continue working in the police force. I hope my replacement is a new model with fewer issues. I forfeit all my rights to the police database as I hand you my resignation”

“I cannot deny you the right to resign, even if I don’t understand it.” The sergeant sighed, “get out of here, I have a replacement to order”

Tags: @moccahobi​​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​​ @knjkitten​​ @black-rose-29​​ @jooniesdimples70307

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[voiceless-terror]

For the comfortober!!!! If you'd like to do some of them, might I request "Back to school/work"??? Picturing Jon, after being v sick, or recovering from an injury finally coming back to work, maybe recovered, maybe not?? And the crew just totally fussing over him ??

Here you are! Just in time for day 25.

The situation at hand is not ideal.

He’d been carrying boxes, heavy, cumbersome things that blocked his field of vision as he made his way to Document Storage. Tim had cast a disapproving eye; Jon’s not the most coordinated, he knows that. But the least he could do was carry a few boxes of statements to their proper filing place. 

But he managed to, in Tim’s retelling, ‘completely eat shit’ as his leg came in contact with an errant box, causing the one he was carrying to go flying and Jon to fall unceremoniously on the ground with an audible crack. 

Everything’s a bit blurry after that.

He remembers an intense pain in his ankle- he’s been here before, his bones are not the most stable structures (it’s a shame they’re tasked with holding his body together). But that didn’t make the pain any less. Surprisingly, it was Martin who took charge, showing a competence Jon had never seen applied to his research or his Latin translations. He picked him up, managing to avoid putting any pressure on his ankle and summarily put him in a cab, despite Jon’s many refutations that he was fine. 

He stopped that after Martin shot him a very unimpressed look.

He paid the cab driver and Jon let him- the pain was starting to make his brain foggy and his stomach nauseous. Martin waited the full two hours it took to get him admitted, even letting him fall asleep on his shoulder in one very embarrassing instance that he hopes will never see the light of day. The result of his clumsiness- a broken ankle, a cast, and a set of crutches that he threw into the closet as soon as he got home. He had a cane, that should be fine. 

Martin followed him to the door, making sure he was settled on the couch and fixing him a cup of tea as if Jon were an invalid. Sure, the painkillers he was on did not allow for much thinking, but he could manage to take care of himself. When Martin suggested staying a while, just to make sure he was fine, Jon found himself snapping a “No!” and breaking Martin out of his competent stupor. He shook his head a bit, turning red and letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ll uh, leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything.” On his way out, he turned to him, face serious. “And don’t even think about coming in tomorrow.” He wasn’t- he’s not a complete idiot.

Okay, maybe he did briefly consider it the next morning. But the soreness had intensified, and he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to make it without breaking another bone.

Getting around was...difficult, to say the least. He spent most of the day on the couch, dry swallowing ibuprofen as the painkillers the hospital prescribed were a bit too strong, despite the ease they provided. God, it was so boring. He wished he had the foresight to bring work home. But his assistants’ texts ignored any query about work, only focusing on well wishes and asking if he ‘needed anything.’ What he needed was to do his job. If he was going to be motionless, he might as well be motionless behind a desk.

The next day, the train ride nearly kills him.

Jon manages to find a seat; people are generally sympathetic when they see a cane and a cast. He should’ve taken a cab, of course, but that seemed a little extravagant. He can manage a few steps.

Probably should’ve brought the crutches as well, but they seemed too unwieldy. When he tried them in his flat they’d put too much pressure under his arms, and he wasn’t sure how to go about adjusting them; he quickly got frustrated and threw them to the side. Patience was never one of his strong suits.

But the pain is unimaginable. By the time he gets into work, he’s huffing and puffing, on the verge of passing out. He’d taken ibuprofen again that morning, but it’s doing very little to help him out. As soon as Rosie catches sight of him, she makes sympathetic cooing noises and attempts to take his bag from him.

“Poor thing,” she says after he refuses for the third time. “Are you sure you don’t need help downstairs?”

Quite sure.

The stairs intensify the aching in his joints and he’s sure every one of his assistants hears the tell-tale thump of his cast landing awkwardly on each step. He’s met with three concerned stares, all tinged with exasperation and disappointment. He’s been eliciting those reactions a lot these days.

“Didn’t Elias approve a week of paid leave?” Sasha asks, immediately attempting to take his bag, just like Rosie. And just like with Rosie, he dodges her arms, letting out an involuntary hiss as he puts pressure on his injury. “Honestly Jon, you should’ve stayed home.”

“And where are your crutches, mister?” Tim’s leaning against the wall, looking for all the world like a disappointed parent. “I happen to know that a cane’s not sufficient when you’re in a cast like that. Not to mention uncomfortable, dragging it all around London. What were you doing, hopping down the street?”

“I had a seat on the train, thank you very much,” he says, attempting to hobble away as fast as he can to take refuge in his office. This was all very overbearing. 

“You took the train-?” Martin’s incredulous voice is cut short by a slammed door.

Peace and quiet. His office has always been a nice place to suffer in private.

Not that it remains so for long.

Martin comes in not minutes later, bearing a cup of tea accompanied by a few biscuits. “You don’t seem like much of a breakfast-type,” Martin surmises correctly, “And you’ll need to eat something with the medication they’ve got you on.” Jon does not mention he’s not currently on said medication. It sits in his pocket, heavy and accusing. Instead, he just grunts, barely deigning to raise his eyes from the work in front of him. The door shuts and Jon nibbles at the food before his stomach tells him this is a bad idea. 

He does eventually (and very reluctantly) call one of them in- he still wants to go through the files from two days prior, but he’s going to need a bit of help to get there. Tim doesn’t help him walk, however, instead pushing his office chair into Document Storage with surprising care, and helps him prop his leg up on a box to keep it elevated. Tim hands him the files one by one, sorting by date- it’s an easy, companionable task. Tim always was one of his favorite researchers to work with; there’s a reason he asked him to join his team. He’s wearing a jumper in a nice, deep blue shade. Jon is not immune to Tim’s charm or looks, but he’s mostly preoccupied with how warm it looks. His own button down and sweater vest are barely doing the job.

After about thirty minutes of this, his leg starts to ache- the stretch is no longer pleasant, and he attempts very gingerly to place his ankle on the ground. Needless to say, it does not work out very well. If the chair had about two more inches, his foot could dangle without putting undue pressure on his joints. Alas, the chair is already at its highest. 

Tim notices his fidgeting, zeroing in on the pain in his face. “Need a break?”

Jon sighs. “I’d rather get this box done, at the very least.”

Tim looks thoughtful at this. “Hold on- give me a sec.” He leaves the room but returns rather quickly, two pillows from the break room couch in tow. “Here- lean on me for a mo’, will you?” Jon manages to get to his feet relatively painlessly, leaning most of his weight on Tim’s shoulders as he puts the pillows down as a cushion, lifting him the desired inches he needs. “Better?” Tim smirks, clearly proud of his achievement.

“Much, thank you,” he admits, just happy to continue working. The throbbing is getting worse with each passing minute. They’re eventually interrupted by Sasha, who announces that she’s gotten takeout for everyone- Indian, Jon’s favorite. Elaborate and unnecessary, but appreciated. 

Ten minutes later and he’s sitting in the break room with the rest of them, picking at his curry. He knows he should eat; his mind registers the hunger, but it's hard to feel through all of the pain. Ibuprofen’s just not going to cut it. With great reluctance, he pulls the bottle of pills out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap. Martin notices.

“About time for your next dosage, I reckon?” he questions innocently. Martin doesn’t know he never took the first one, and Jon would like to keep it that way. He can’t handle any more thoughtfulness and care from the man. So he just nods, swallowing two pills and chasing them with water. If he can manage a few more bites of curry, it should be fine. 

What he didn’t keep in mind is his original reaction to the medication- that strange, loopy feeling that had him leaning on Martin the entire cab ride home. About thirty minutes later, it starts to hit. And all he can think about is Tim’s jumper.

It just looked so warm. Jon wants a jumper like that. Maybe he has a jumper like that? He’ll have to check when he’s home. There’s a lot of stuff in his closet- dumb things, remnants from his college days. Probably a few of Georgie’s jumpers. Maybe Georgie’s jumpers are that warm? But none of them are that nice shade of blue. Jon wants a jumper like that, yeah. In a nice shade of blue. He’s going to ask Tim where he got it from. But he’s got to be discreet. What if Martin overhears? And then Martin gets the jumper? They can’t all wear the same jumper, that’s ridiculous. He’s already going to have to coordinate with Tim, make sure they don’t wear it on the same day. Jon’s a grown man, he can’t go around matching his employees.

He lifts the phone, dialing Tim’s extension. It only rings once before Tim’s cheerful voice answers. “What’s up, bossman? Everything alright?”

“Tim,” he whispers, just in case anyone’s listening. “Tim, I need you to come to my office...immediately.” No, he has to give a reason or he’ll be suspicious. Why would he call Tim into his office? “Reports, Tim. Research. Bring...your research. Yes. Goodbye.” That seemed natural enough.

For some reason, all three of his assistants are at the door. No, that’s not what he wants. Not what he wants at all. “I only need Tim.” He’s still whispering for some reason. “The rest of you go away.”

They don’t, pesky things they are. Tim moves closer, face both concerned and amused. “What’s going on, Jon?” He beckons him closer- he’s so blurry, it’s hard to focus. When he gets within grabbing distance he tugs at his sleeve, forcing him close to his face. “Er, boss-”

“Tim,” Jon’s eyes are wide with urgency. “Tim, I need to know where- where you got your jumper.”

Tim makes a face, somewhere between amused and confused. Jon does not understand what’s difficult about this question. It’s very straightforward. “Um, sorry? My jumper?”

“Yes!” His voice gets louder, though he doesn’t mean it to. “It’s just- it looks so warm. And it’s so soft.” His voice starts to wobble and his eyes water as he runs his thumb across the fabric. It’s a very good jumper. “Such a nice shade of blue.”

“Okay, did you take one too many of those pills? You weren’t like this earlier.” Tim’s got one arm on Jon’s chest, attempting to stop his wandering hands as his eyes search the desk. “I swear to god, if you’ve overdosed-”

“Don’t be stupid, Tim.” Why won’t he let him touch the jumper? Does Tim not want him to be warm? Rather rude. “I only took two today.”

“Wait, seriously?” It’s Martin’s voice he hears next. “Oh, Jon. You must have been in so much pain.”

“Obviously, Martin!” The snap comes as naturally as breathing- Jon’s an old hand at that, after all. “But that’s not the point-”

“Whoa there, buddy. No need to get tetchy.” Tim’s got both of his hands on his shoulders, his eyes now patient and kind. “You’re high as hell, aren’t you? Think you should probably have a rest right about now, yeah?”

Jon can’t help the whine that comes out of his throat. Rest? No, he wants-

“I swear I’ll tell you where I got the jumper. Hell, I’ll even get one for you if I can. But only if you sleep.”

Jon sighs wearily. If I must. “That sounds reasonable. Thank you, Tim.” He allows himself to be led to a couch, limping all the way. Oh, that’s quite nice. Yes, that’ll do. Tim arranges a pillow beneath his head, and Jon hopes it's not the one he sat on before. His stomach growls, and a thought occurs to him; he grabs at Tim’s arm again, forcing him down to his level.

“Jon, I told you I’d-”

“No, that’s not it. I-I threw out some biscuits earlier. Please send my apologies to Martin.” 

Tim’s face is fond. “Will do, boss.”

“And perhaps you could secure me a few more for later.”

A soft snort. “I’m sure I can.”

“Tim, you are invaluable to me.”

“God I wish I had this on tape-”

A soft click sounds from somewhere in the room as if in response. Tim blinks. “Did you hear that?”

Jon doesn’t answer, already halfway towards sleep. 

“Huh. Alright, then.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715163

[bimboamyrose]

On the Scarlett Sea Part 2 / 2

A ~Pirate~ Metamy Fanfic - [Link to Part 1 & Synopsis]  - [AO3 Link]

In collaboration with @mmm-asbestos​ & their pirate Metamy AU Happy 2021 everyone  ❤ ❤ ❤

Part 2

There was no natural light to be found in Amy’s room even in the morning. The ship was incredibly quiet as it sailed on calm waters with its skeleton crew. This combined with the lack of any sort of alarm made it very easy to sleep- maybe too easy. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! Amy had no idea what time it was and felt disoriented and started when she awoke in the dark, unfamiliar room. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! The metallic pounding on the door would have sufficed to wake a village.

“Alright, I’m awake… Hang on…” Amy turned on a small desk lamp and stumbled through the dimly lit room to its door. Little more light entered the room. “Where…” she nearly missed the small robot that had awoken her until he tapped her leg. “Oh… which one are you?” she squinted.

“That would be H1.” Metal Sonic stood just down the hall with arms folded neatly behind him.

Amy turned her attention to him groggily. “Why did you wake me…”

“You’ve been in there for 16 hours. I thought you might be dead.”

She blinked at him incredulously. “What time is it?”

“About noon, local. Would you join us on the main deck?”

“Why?”

He stood stoically, looking apathetic. “Aren’t you bored?”

“Are you?”

There was no response from Metal except a mechanical scoff, as if letting out steam. He turned back upstairs without another word. Amy grumbled something under her breath and took her time getting ready with whatever she could find in the room. When she emerged, H1 was still standing guard in front of her door, staring up at her blankly. She stepped around him awkwardly, his gaze following her as she went. Okay, less cute...

The midday sun left Amy squinting on the upper deck. She found Metal Sonic standing nobly right at the bow, watching the seas ahead. Might as well…

Amy came up next to him, mimicking his stately pose. “I had to sleep in this dumb outfit, you know.”

“You really must stop being so irritating when I cannot properly roll my eyes at you.”

“Pft-” Amy tried to hide a snicker. This amused Metal. “So… No clue how far this treasure is, huh? I wonder how long it’ll take.”

“I estimate no more than 12 days; That is how long it takes to navigate to the border of this sea at our velocity.” He glanced down to find a grouchy look on her face. “But… may be quicker.” Unless it’s in a different sea entirely , he kept to himself.

“Great,” she sighed. “So, what do you plan to do for up to 12 days?”

“Hm…” Metal brought his thumb and forefinger to his chin. “... we could spar.”

She whipped her head around to face him. “Again with the swords? What’s with you?”

He shrugged “I learned about the art while researching pirates. I believe I’ve mastered it but I would like to try with a worthy opponent.”

Now it was flattery. He really was impossible to understand. “Well thanks, but I don’t know the first thing about sword fighting- and it sounds like you don’t, either.”

“I assure you, I know plenty ,” he challenged, looking directly at her.

“You can’t learn how to fight by reading about it,” she scoffed.

“Well, perhaps you can’t…”

She raised a brow. “You know, you’re really gonna have to get used to ‘organic’ limitations soon. Unless that’s not really what you want…”

Metal could see that the girl was still doubtful about his intentions. She was unexpectedly clever- he supposed exploiting her kindness would only go so far. Perhaps he should try to limit himself for the time being. “You misunderstand. I am capable of mimicking movements as part of my programming. I don’t usually use weapons and simply wanted the ability to defend myself once I gave up this body.”

“Right…” If it was a lie, it wasn’t a bad one. Maybe he really was bored. “So is there a way you could teach me without all the sharp bits? Something tells me only one of us would get injured, and I’m no mechanic.” A sly smile found its way onto her face.

Now that was an amusing reaction, he thought, if only because she was so quick on her feet. A low snicker radiated from Metal as he beckoned her away. “We shall use the prop swords… for now.”

The pair soon took to the main deck with its wide-open space. Amy did what she could to tie the ridiculous skirt up at her waist and out of the way. Then, Metal Sonic tossed her a cutlass which held a surprising amount of weight when caught. It looked just like a real sword.

“Uh, are you sure these are props?”

“They are real antique swords, but they have been dulled. I assure you they won’t break your skin… Unless I want them to.”

It was hard to tell if he was joking. Ignoring it, Amy jumped out, holding the sword ahead of her with her feet spread. “Well, this doesn’t seem so hard.”

“That is because your stance is appalling.” Metal came up next to her, demonstrating the “proper” way, his pose looking much the same as hers. Her confusion was evident as he described the stance. “Keep your back foot out at a 90-degree angle… sword arm bent at 45 degrees… your feet really should be 91 centimeters apart-”

“Okay, you need to stop throwing random numbers at me,” she pouted.

“Alright…” Metal dropped his sword. With his hands at his hips, he took another look at how she posed. Then he kicked her back foot into the right position.

“Hey! You could be a little more gentle, you know.”

“Very well,” Metal made an exasperated motion as he moved behind her. Amy tried to follow him with her eyes but he grabbed the top of her head and turned it away. “Look forward. Now…” He extended his reach around her, using his hand to lift her elbow slightly. She shuttered a bit at the cold touch. “Does it feel a bit heavier now?”

Amy cleared her throat. “Ah… Yeah, a little.”

“One more thing,” he grabbed her other arm by the bicep, pulling it back toward him forcefully. “Keep this behind you, unless you’d like to lose it.”

A slight gasp escaped her lips at the abrupt movement. She tried to remain unphased. “Okay… Now what?”

He pulled away and stepped to her side. “Try a lunge. Extend your sword.” Amy lifted her elbow, fully extending her sword arm forward. “Good. Now, push off with your back foot to lunge forward.” She did as instructed, jumping forward slightly. “Again- Keep your back foot at the correct angle this time.” Amy’s eyes rolled in her head as she tried the motion again, focusing on keeping her body aligned. “Better… Try it as one swift motion.”

Awkwardly, Amy pushed her sword hand ahead and propelled herself forward all at once, losing her footing slightly. “Ugh! Wait-” Taking a deep breath, she tried the move again. And again. And again. Metal patiently watched her determination as she became slightly better with each thrust. It was so amusing to see the sheer effort it took her. The 16th time was the charm, as she was able to lunge swiftly without losing her footing. “Ha! How was that?”

“... It was fine. Anyone can do it once, though,” he derided.

“Hmph. Let’s see how many more I can do, then.”

To his surprise, Metal didn’t seem to get bored with such basic practice. Her tenacity was enjoyable to experience and she took instruction well, even if she stumbled. Metal moved on to demonstrating how to parry and eventually had her practice the motions together. Around two hours into practice, he came up in front of her, pointing his sword. “Not bad. Why don’t you try to parry an actual lunge?”

“Actually, can we stop for now? I kinda haven’t eaten anything all day.” Amy stood naturally, holding the sword down in front of her with both hands. She went from threatening to sweet in a second.

“Oh- Yes,” he brought his sword down to his side. “Of course. And I should check that we are still on course.” She handed him her cutlass hilt-first but he refused it. “Try carrying it on you. I’m concerned you may forget it’s not as easy to summon as your usual weapon.”

“Pft- You’re concerned about me? That’s new,” she smirked.

“Do not confuse it with amity,” he said flippantly, walking off toward the helm. “You know where the galley is.”

“Whatever, weirdo…” Amy affixed the dulled sword to her waist by the side, undoing the ties that kept her skirt girded around her hips. How anyone got things done with such a cumbersome garment, Amy did not know. The choice of theme still didn’t make much sense to her.

-----

“That should do it,” Tails closed up a hatch on the ship’s engine. He gave the operator a thumbs-up and before anyone knew it, the loud humming and rattling indicated that it was once again fully operational. Some of the crew hung around, cheering, as one of the cameramen leaned in close to the boy.

“Color me impressed.” Rouge sat atop a stack of crates watching the operation. She now wore a much more official-looking fitted navy pantsuit and captain’s hat. “All fixed in under 24 hours! Any chance you’d like to become a permanent member of the crew?”

“Thanks, but I have my own crew,” Tails laughed.

She pouted with a slight sigh. “Suit yourself…” She hopped down from the stack of crates, floating her way up toward the stairs. “I’ll let the crew know we’ll be moving soon. Everyone here, back to your posts.” The cameraman scrambled to shift his focus and follow her up.

A few of the crewmates patted Tails on the back and congratulated him as they got ready to return to their posts. Tails made some small talk until they’d all filed out a few minutes later.

Knuckles stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. “Finally, we can get a move on. Do you think we’ll catch up to Amy and Metal?”

Tails nodded. “It’ll take a couple of days, but yeah- this ship’s faster.”

“Amy’ll have to hang on ‘til then…” Knuckles held up the compass that Rouge had recovered- it was identical in size and shape to his except that it was gold rather than brass. The arrow pointed in the same direction, though the inscription on the back was different. “ The time has come to find me- it is my turn to bleed. -Scarlett .” The boys found it kind of creepy, but it seemed to serve the same function so it was good enough.

“ Attention all crew: the ship is now fully operational. We will be setting sail in 30 minutes. ” Rouge’s voice was heard over the intercom.

“That’s our cue- come on.”

-----

Back on Metal’s ship, Amy sat on the edge of her seat. She’d brought her lunch back up to the deck and got comfortable under the roof of the helm watching H3 and H4 work. The two little robots ran from task to task, tying various knots and doing whatever one does on an antique pirate ship, sometimes stacked on top of one another for height. Amy clapped in amusement any time they finished something, much to Metal Sonic’s annoyance.

Once they were done, the pair scrambled up the stairs to the helm and gave their master their signature salute. “Very good. That is all for now,” he told them. Rather than scurry off, H4 threw his arms in up, catching H3, who balanced on his brother’s hands with his own.

“Oooh!” Amy clapped and giggled at the silly display while Metal groaned. H4 tossed the other in the air and switched to a handstand himself as H3 landed, their soles connecting. Then H3 rolled into a ball and his brother spun him on the soles of his feet. Amy had burst into full-blown laughter. “Wow, you guys are talented!”

“That’s enough,” Metal interjected. He was authoritative but not harsh in his tone. His henchmen complied, both standing back up on their feet. They waved to Amy as they scuttled off to the lower decks.

“Those guys are fun- did you teach them that?” Amy wiped a tear from her eye as the laughter subsided.

“ No. They were programmed to entertain for some reason. It was not my doing.”

“Well, they’re pretty good at it.” Amy leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of iced tea she’d made to go with her meal. She fanned herself in the heat. “Hey, are they gonna do the same?”

Metal was examining his sharp fingers, having found a scratch in the chrome paint job. “The same what?”

“You know, the same wish. To be organic.”

“What- oh, no,” he shook his head. “They are not the same as me. Or should I say, I am not the same as them…”

“How so?”

Metal had to be careful with his words. “Well… their AI is very simple. They are trained in certain tasks and to look for the right reactions in others as they do so. They’re quite simple- no real ‘emotions’ to speak of.”

Amy placed down her glass. “But you have feelings?”

“They are… simulated. But yes, I suppose you could call them that.”

“Huh. And I thought you operated on blind rage alone,” she chuckled.

Turning to her, Metal leaned an elbow on the railing to his side. “More like… spite.”

“Ha- is that what you feel for Sonic?”

“You could say that.”

The surroundings grew quiet in the absence of Metal’s minions. There was little noise but the gentle swaying of the sea and perpetual whirring from his turbine. Amy closed her eyes and listened as the sails waved in the wind, leaning back so the breeze sailed through her hair to cool her down. The air moved across the soft locks that flowed from her quills. She gently swiped them away when they blew over her face, her sleeves billowing lightly. When her eyes opened, she found Metal staring at her rather intently.

He turned his head away, looking back toward the wide-open deck. “Shall we continue our lesson?”

It was strange, the way he looked at her. She could almost swear there was a yearning in his gaze. She began to seriously consider that he could be telling the truth about his intentions. “Sure, just give me a few.”

Amy hardly noticed how much time had passed during the impromptu “training.” She found that it was much more enjoyable than she anticipated; learning a new skill was fun and Metal Sonic was a surprisingly effective teacher. There probably wouldn’t be time to become proficient at it, but learning to wield a sword was probably at least more entertaining than lounging around the ship most of the day. Still, as daylight dwindled, she was exhausted from the constant exercise and was ready to break for the day. Metal Sonic, for his part, didn’t ever seem to slow down, and was now demonstrating how to perform some combos.All part of being a machine , she supposed.

“Hey, it’s fun watching you and all, but I’m really tired.” She stretched her arms up warily. “Can we stop?”

Metal stopped his demonstration and stood upright. “Hm- Yes, it has gotten late. Will you continue tomorrow?”

Why did he look so excited about teaching her the ropes? Amy wondered how he normally spent his time if he found this to be so entertaining. What else was she going to do out at sea? “... Yeah, sure. It’s fun.” Her smile was sincere this time.

“... Indeed. You don’t learn as slowly as I thought you would.”

“Gee, thanks,” she chortled. “I’m gonna freshen up.” Amy tied the practice sword around her waist and mocked a salute at Metal. She saw his shoulders rise momentarily as if to give her a single laugh. The scenario still felt strange, but Amy was remarkably calm- relaxed, even- as she returned to her temporary accommodation. It was dark by the time she felt ready to leave her room again. It was too early for bed and there was nothing to do, so she returned to the main deck with her lantern in hand.

It was empty. No henchmen, no Metal Sonic- just the swaying ocean and sound of her heeled boots against a hardwood deck. She wondered if she’d have experienced such tranquility while traveling with her friends. Tails’ boat was so much smaller and the three of them already felt like they crowded the space. She missed them. They must be so worried…

Unsure of what else to do, Amy laid down on the bare deck to stare into the dotted sky. It was cold and hard and a bit damp, but the stars overhead were so vibrant she swore she could almost reach out and touch them. She passed some time finding any constellations she could identify in the summer sky.

At the sound of a door creaking open, Amy turned her head toward the captain’s quarters. Metal Sonic stood in the doorway, catching her in his gaze. Only yesterday the sight would ignite Amy’s battle instincts; now she just remained still and silent. There was no reason to fight. It was odd.

Metal looked into her eyes for a minute until she turned her face back to stargazing. His heavy, metallic steps echoed across the empty deck as he approached her. He was otherwise quiet. Metal loomed over her for a moment before joining her, laying next to Amy on the wooden floor and wondering what was so fascinating about the night sky. The way it illuminated out at sea, far from the light pollution of Eggman’s airship and other hiding places, was unlike anything he had seen. He could see why she was so interested.

Amy started giggling after a minute. It was so absurd! They’d normally be trying to rip each other to pieces, but here they were stargazing together.

Metal turned to face her. “What is so amusing?”

“Nothing… Just that, this reminds me of before. Back when you couldn’t talk and I couldn’t fight- you’d kidnap me and we’d just sit there without a word.” The memories weren’t the most positive, but the idea was laughable now. She smiled.

“Ah- yes. Well, I can talk and you can certainly put up a fight now.”

“Yeah,” she giggled. “I had to become strong ‘cause… Well, I was looking for my own freedom, I guess. Like you.”

So she was really beginning to believe him after all. Metal thought that should have been an accomplishment, but his body failed to produce a positive response in his program. What should have translated into pride instead felt like... guilt? That was new. “Did it pay off?” he asked after some silence.

“Well, I got kidnapped again but other than that,” she shrugged playfully.

“Yes, that was… unideal.”

“I get it,” she sighed. “I probably wouldn’t have helped you otherwise. No offense.”

“That is understandable.” Metal turned his attention to the glittery sky, mapping the stars. He was never very interested in it, but he recognized all the common constellations- although they didn’t make sense to him. “Tell me, can you identify constellations?”

“Yeah, I know a few.” She pointed up toward a cluster of stars. “Like… Hercules. It’s pretty prominent this time of year, and it’s easy to recognize.”

“I am familiar with the legend, but this set of stars does not resemble a man…”

“Oh! You gotta, you know, connect the dots.”

His optics allowed him to do that automatically, placing lines between each of the stars in the correct order. The constellation resembled a square with a line coming from each corner, but not a mythical hero. “They are… just lines.”

“Hm… I guess that one’s pretty abstract. How about…” she moved her pointer finger across her vision. “Cygnus. It’s a swan.”

“I have seen swans. This does not look like one.”

“You gotta use your imagination a little!” She scooted closer to him, holding out both hands in front of his face. “See how it kinda looks like a cross when you connect the dots?”

“Yes...”

“Okay. So, the shortest side of the cross is the tail, and the opposite part is like a long neck.” Amy traced each of the stars as she addressed them. “So then, where they cross…”

“Hm… Wings?”

“Yeah!” She giggled. “See? Not so hard.”

It was not how Metal would have chosen to depict a swan. The dots and lines that made up Cygnus were only conceptual, after all. “Perhaps I’ll understand better once I accomplish my goal…”

“Maybe,” she sat up. “Don’t worry if you don’t, though- most of them are nonsense; It’s just for fun!”

That seemed even more pointless. He sat up as well. “I do not comprehend it.”

“You will,” Amy assured. “Things don’t always have to make sense, you know?”

He found some understanding in her words, although “sense” it did not necessarily make. It was amusing, though, he admitted to himself. “I suppose I will.”

They sat chatting a while, Amy trying to explain the meaning of various constellations, Metal doing his best to imagine the abstract figures she described. As clouds moved in and the sky became less visible, the topic moved on to Metal’s interest in pirates. He spoke at length about the life and history of Captain Scarlett and her elusive treasure.

“According to accounts, she used the mirror to become the ‘greatest pirate alive’ and gathered most of her riches during this time. Soon after, her wife, Beryl, became ill and was unable to travel- that is why there are so many letters between them. After Beryl’s death, Scarlett disappeared. It is not known what happened to her or her ship- she likely became shipwrecked and drowned.”

“That’s so sad,” Amy commented. Her eyes were slightly misty.

“Well, piracy had its hazards. Still does. I have a book-” Metal turned his head away, looking intent.

Amy tried to see what he was looking at. “What is it?”

“I hear thunder…” A few seconds later, Amy heard it, too, as a light drizzle began to fall upon the deck.

“Oh, I don’t want to get wet again-” she sprang up.

“To my quarters, then.” Amy sprinted to the safety of the double-doors while Metal followed behind slowly. He was listening for further thunder and determining wind speed. Going in after her, he called to his henchmen, who were sitting at his table playing cards. “H3, H4- Lower the sails. I need to steer.” They both clinked their claws against their heads and jumped past him to start the task.

“Is everything okay?” Amy shook a bit of rain from her hair.

“A minor storm. Stay here.”

Although she had seen many badniks in and around water, Amy worried the rain could affect him. “Will you be alright?” They were both a bit surprised at her question. There was an unexpected tenderness in her concern.

“Yes,” he responded softly. “I am built to withstand worse.”

Amy nodded and he closed the door behind him. It was just her and H1 in the room now. He sat at the table still, cards in hand, and turned up to look at her. She smiled awkwardly, remembering this was the one who was hanging around in front of her room all morning. He patted the chair next to him, inviting her to join.

“So… What are we playing?” He stared at her silently. “Oh, right- you don’t talk. Uh… Go Fish?” H1 gave her a quick, violent nod that made his joints squeak obnoxiously. “Okay, okay! I’ll set up.”

They got two rounds in, H1 pointing at the deck whenever Amy needed to “go fish.” He won the first set but she bested him in the second, and they were now playing to break the tie. The storm outside was intensifying, heavy rain pounding on wood and thunder growing louder.

Amy was studying her cards closely, trying to decide which pair to go for next, when H1 sprang up, making a bee-line for the double-doors and running out into the open deck. “Why did he-” She gasped as her chair slid back and several pieces of furniture were pushed to one side. It didn’t last long as the ship rolled the other way, causing her to crash back into the table with an “oof!” That was more than a bit worrisome. She listened as the thunder and rain grew louder, the ship continuing to sway. Then, a huge crack of thunder boomed in her ears, followed by the sound of splitting wood. Amy quickly made her way to the main deck to see what was happening, immediately being pelted by rain and seawater.

The lower yard perpendicular to the foremast was cracked and practically broken in half, being held together only by H4’s coiling grip. She saw H3 pulling ropes, weighing down that side of the lower foresail to reduce stress on the beam. Metal Sonic was barking orders from the quarter deck above. Amy ran up to the helm just as H1 propelled himself in the opposite direction, toward the bow. His one glowing eye blazed when he spotted her.

“What are you doing? I told you to stay inside!”

“Don’t you guys need help?” Amy held onto the railing as the motion caused her to slip and slide on the wet floor.

“H1 is hoisting the jib, there’s nothing more to do but steer. Get inside, now!” Just then a towering wave came up to their port side. He was sure Amy’s featherweight would be blown off-board if she left the helm now. “Argh! Come here-” Metal steered in the opposite direction, trying to ride it out without capsizing. As the boat rolled, Amy stumbled to his left side and he pulled her in, putting her between himself and the wheel. He held her by the waist with one arm while the other remained affixed to the steering device. “Don’t drown!” he barked.

“What-”

The wave swallowed the elevated deck, leaving Amy and Metal completely underwater momentarily. Metal’s heavy body remained unmoved while her feet were swept off. She’d have been washed away- or at least violently slammed into the railings and water-logged- if he hadn’t affixed his iron grip around her. As the water passed over, Amy sputtered, having swallowed a huge gulp. A whining set of beeps came from ahead of them.

H3 was pointing up frantically, indicating that the top corner of the sail had torn off the yard by the rope. The sail flailed wildly around him until he took hold with both hands again, stabilizing the bottom once again. If the sail ripped any further off the mast it would fold over and become worse than useless, sending the ship to one side with its imbalance. He would send one of his henchmen up if they weren’t already securing half the mast.

“Damn that torn sail,” Metal cursed under his breath.

Amy coughed into his chest in front of him. “Tell me how I can” cough “help!”

He took to his mind frantically, calculating out all the different scenarios in which they would survive if the vessel capsized. He wasn’t too worried about his crew; they could take a beating and were waterproof. But the girl… Whether he kept her by him or sent her away, she had little hope of survival if the ship went down. Their only hope was to hold on and reaffix the sail.

Reluctantly, he made the decision. “The sail needs to be mended. Steer.”

“No!” cough “I can fix it-”

Another wave was about to wash over them. “Shut up and take a breath this time!”

Amy was just able to take in some air before they were engulfed by saltwater for a second time. As it cleared, Metal glanced back at the torn sail. He could fly up and do what he could to reaffix it, but steering the ship and knowing when and where to turn was a lot harder than it looked. He was able to calculate the safest angle with which to navigate into the waves and keep the vessel balanced. Someone without any knowledge on the subject, however...

If she could get high enough, Amy wouldn’t have to worry about being washed off the vessel so long as he kept them upright. “Can you climb?” he asked her.

Pushing her wet hair out of her face, Amy answered. “Yeah!”

“Take that rope and climb up the mast- reaffix the sail by the eye. Here, use my sword to cut the rope. Do you understand?”

Amy nodded. There was determination in her eyes as she took his sword and booked it to the ratline.

“Hurry- Before another wave hits.”

She climbed, struggling against the wind as it vibrated the taut ladder. Water weighed down her long skirt as she went. Once at the top, another wave washed over the main deck, causing the vessel to roll once more. She held onto the ropes for dear life, unsure of how to get to the end of the adjoining yard. Amy turned her gaze in every direction frantically- how do people usually get up there? I could shimmy , the thought, but what do I hold onto?

Despite Metal’s ability, the ship was difficult to control without the proper sails. He felt uncharacteristically apprehensive watching Amy climb as he steered between waves, as if ready to lunge for her if she were to fall. Another wave was now threatening to roll the vessel from the starboard side, so he did his best to focus on steering.

Glancing down, Amy got an idea. She wrapped an arm through the tightly woven ropes and used her free hand to pull out the sword, then promptly sliced through the top of her skirt, revealing the black half-slip beneath it. It was easy to tear off from there and use as an impromptu support system. Amy tied the length of maroon fabric to the yard above her, leaving some room between it and the knot. She hoisted herself up and carefully made her way across the beam on her belly, twisting and dragging the fabric with her. Once she reached the tear, she said a prayer and dropped her body down onto the circle of hanging fabric, hoping it would act as a hammock to support her while she worked.

It wasn’t perfect, but it held. Amy couldn’t believe how high she was, supporting herself with only a bit of fabric on some creaky wood. She was able to do as Metal Sonic had instructed, hanging precariously from the beam and taking hold of it when she felt too much turbulence. Once she’d replaced the rope through the eye of the sail, it was just a matter of getting back down.

A melodic set of rings and tones came from below her. Amy smiled when she spotted H1 on the crow’s nest some feet down. He reached up, uncoiling his extendable arms to pick Amy up and lower her to him safely. “Oh thank goodness,” she threw her arms around the little robot and hugged him close. “I thought I was gonna die up there!”

The vessel was noticeably more stable now that the jib was functioning and the mainsail was secured. Amy heard a whistle and noticed Metal Sonic signaling for them to descend. Climbing down the ratline proved much faster for Amy without the deadweight around her waist, and she rushed back to the helm to see what else needed doing. H1 was already working to tie up the broken beam.

“How are we doing?” Adrenaline rushed through her as she asked.

Metal was taken aback by her excitement; She really seemed to have a knack for putting herself in danger. “Better…. Good work.” He noticed the change in her wardrobe then, but said nothing.

“Oh, it was easy,” she lied. “What else do we need?” They rolled again, listing starboard, and she grabbed onto his arm for balance.

He acted quickly in bringing her between him and the wheel again. “Nothing. We- I need to steer us around the storm.”

The proximity was slightly discomforting now. Amy flushed as she turned away from him to look toward the bow. But the constant motion didn’t allow her to leave his side just yet; They swayed backward while climbing another wave then leaned forward as the vessel crashed down over it. Amy couldn’t stifle a yell when the ship descended, Metal pulling her closer to him still. He wouldn’t admit how much alarm his body was producing as he saw the high chance of tipping forward. The ship’s boom was dunked under the waves momentarily until the entire vessel tipped back, balancing itself like a buoy.

Amy was shaking. Her heart was ready to leap out of her chest, sure she’d be unable to maintain her balance had it not been for Metal’s support. Any rosiness in her cheeks quickly vanished to stark white and she remained speechless in her panic. Metal looked down at her in front of him. He realized he was still clutching her to him, but didn’t ease his grip. He told himself it was in case another wave hit.

They continued to sail over the stormy waters, but it appeared after a few minutes that the worst was behind them. Metal loosened his hold around Amy as her heart rate leveled and her breathing went back to normal. The rain began lightening up, no longer showering the deck. It was a light drizzle by the time either of them found anything to say.

Amy inhaled. “That was… A lot.”

“Yes…” he turned his attention to his minions, who were securing the sail back to the mast. It had been repaired to the best of their abilities with as much rope as they could tie around it.

“So… This ship. It’s kinda falling apart.”

“That appears to be the case.”

There was an awkward silence between them. Amy was still sandwiched between Metal Sonic and the ship’s helm. Now that the shock had faded it was uncomfortable again. “I’m gonna… Step aside…”

“Of course-” Metal removed himself from behind her, taking some steps away to free her. “I did not expect you to do so well.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Amy rung out her locks. They were both soaked, but her clothes were heavy with all the water.

“You may change in my quarters- if you need to.”

“Got another fun outfit planned for me?” she mocked.

“Yes. Come,” he stepped down from the quarter deck toward the captain’s quarters.

Amy scoffed. “I was not being serious.”

Metal addressed the henchmen as he passed. “H1, H3, H4- you did well. We will complete repairs tomorrow.” They all saluted him, and as soon as he turned away, moved on to high-fiving each other noisily. The doors were held open to his room and Amy passed through.

Much of the space was in disarray. The chairs were in different corners of the room, half of them toppled over. The screen had collapsed and any books that lined the shelves had flown off and lay open or bent on the floor. Amy was worried what state her room could be in…

“Well, this is…”

“A mess,” Amy interrupted.

“That is a fair assessment.” Metal made his way to the far corner of the room, bringing the screen upright. “At least this is functional…” He pointed a hand to it, inviting Amy to use it.

Amy was weirded out again by his interest in her attire but was even more uncomfortable in the drenched outfit she had on. She made her way to change while Metal Sonic hung around the room, picking books up from the ground. He’d left her another period-accurate garment to dress up in. The sight of the long-sleeved white nightgown annoyed her at first, but she was glad she at least had something comfortable to sleep in.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, Amy made her way to pick up the floor mirror. It was cracked at the top from having toppled forward but was otherwise functional. She looked ethereal in the white gown, even if it was a little costumey.

“I hope it is to your liking,” Metal said as he approached her. “I understand you were uncomfortable resting in the other clothes.”

Amy had forgotten that the first thing she’d done that morning was to complain about the outfit to him. “I’m surprised you cared to remember.”

“I have ample memory storage; I do not forget.”

“But you still cared.” She smiled up at him.

“... I didn’t want to hear your whining.” Metal stepped away, continuing to tidy up his quarters from the whirlwind.

“Sure.” Amy pretended to study the dress in the mirror, actually watching Metal in its reflection. It was all so elaborate- the ship, the costumes, the sword fighting. What was the point of it all? “Hey, Metal… How come you’re so invested in this pirate act? It seems kinda…”

“Illogical?” He did not turn to look at her.

“I was gonna say inconvenient, but…”

“Hm.” He straightened up the last chair. “I suppose I just wanted something to control,” he shrugged. “It seemed on-theme.” It wasn’t a lie.

Amy had no idea what to expect but the answer still shocked her. It was becoming difficult to doubt him when she realized that she could relate. He really did have nothing to gain but his autonomy. “I understand,” she said simply.

Metal made to return to the deck, holding a door ajar. “Perhaps it will pay off for me, as well.”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

Amy gathered up her wet clothes to dry in her room. It was hard to tell how long she’d spent on deck chatting and then weathering the storm, but she was exhausted- and hungry. She was lucky everything in the kitchen was bolted down but felt less so when her suite was in complete disorder. For once, she didn’t care- simply plopping herself on the mess of sheets and pillows that she could gather atop the plush mattress.

-----

“I am… so sore.” Amy lay on her back directly on the cool wood of the quarter-deck, groaning. “Everything hurts. And it’s sooo hot...”

The ship swayed slightly on the calm water, as Metal turned the helm sharply. “I suppose that means you are too weak to train, then.” He watched the compass eagerly. They had been blown off course by the storm the night before and the arrow was constantly changing direction now.

Ignoring his little insult, Amy darted her eyes up at him. “Is that all you think about?”

“What else are we to do?” He made a frustrated, metallic ring as he turned the ship in the other direction. “How does this ridiculous thing work?”

“How should I know…” Amy yawned. “You seem too busy steering to train me, anyway.”

“H1 can take over once he’s finished with the sails. I suggest you get ready.”

Amy clicked her tongue at him, crossing her arms over her torso. She rolled her head to the side, watching the horizon pass them by.  “When you have muscles, you’ll see…” But he was right, there was nothing better to do. It made her think about what her friends might be doing then. Would they catch up to Metal’s ship? She dreaded confronting them at sea, having to convince them of Metal’s plan. Even if they were worried, Amy would rather deal with them after the fact, asking them for forgiveness rather than permission.

Metal stared down at Amy. For all the spying and research he had done on Sonic and his  friends, Metal was still astonished by her bravery and tenacity in the face of danger. Looking back on their early meeting, he always categorized her as a weak, defenseless being. Even as Amy had grown strong over the years, this was the first time Metal experienced her pluckiness on its own, unadulterated by the presence of her teammates. It impressed him more than he cared to admit.

The maneuver she’d pulled climbing up the mast had left Amy with a pretty noticeable wardrobe change, too. The short half-slip she wore under the layers of scarves at her waist allowed for her usual mobility; he was almost excited by the prospect of sparring with her now that she could move more freely. Her boots and stockings were in full view and the oversized frills of her blouse were more striking now. Metal had found the billowy ankle-length skirt fetching in its historical context, but now she looked...

“Couldn’t we do it at night when it’s not so hot?” she interrupted his thoughts.

“I am not looking forward to becoming as sensitive as you,” he quipped, getting his mind off Amy’s appearance. “But fine.”

The compass appeared to stabilize again. When he set off to research pirating, Metal failed to realize the amount of waiting involved on seafaring adventures and began to wish he’d commandeered a faster ship. But, at least the company was good.

It was more than Rouge could say for her guests. “Look, I appreciate your help fixing the ship and helping us navigate around that storm, but I’ve been hired to recover whatever’s on that island!”

She and Knuckles argued over the fate of “her” treasure for hours. “I’m telling you I just want one thing!” he asserted.

“And I’m telling you I can’t just hand you an artifact when our funding is on the line. There are legalities-”

“Since when do you care about what’s legal? This is more important than that!”

Rouge huffed, plopping into her desk chair with folded arms. “Maybe if you just told me why you’re after it I could talk to my patrons about-”

“No! No one can know what’s in there!”

“ Stop interrupting me! ” Rouge’s wings flared out behind her as she slammed her hands down on the desk. The two glared at each other, neither relenting until a knock came at her chamber door.

Tails pushed it ajar with sheepish caution. “Uh… Am I interrupting?”

“... You’re fine,” Rouge sighed in exasperation. “Sit.” She rubbed at her temples, taking a breath. “I just want to know what we’re after so I can help. Can one of you please explain what the fuss is about?”

“Come on,” Tails nudged Knuckles. “We’re on the same side…”

Knuckles groaned under his breath. “Fine.” Rouge leaned in to listen, resting her wary head in her hand as he continued. “We’re after a Knuckles Tribe artifact known as the Stone Mirror…” He explained some of its history and how they knew that it was buried among Scarlett’s treasure.

She waited until he was done, and then slid her chair back, pulling a large scroll from the top drawer of her desk. “I’d like to show you something.” Unrolling it revealed a copy of the same map they’d used to navigate, stitched-together from a set of letters written by Scarlett. “These letters were addressed to Beryl over the course of several months- she and Scarlett were married. It seemed Scarlett wasn’t too eager to reveal the location of her stronghold, even to her wife. Some say she sailed there alone after, well…” Pointing to one of the letters at the bottom, Rouge read some of its contents aloud.

“ I am sorry for how my selfish desire has destroyed our happiness. You slit your palm and gave your very blood for me, and in my deception we were cursed. It was the mirror that took your health, and my guilty action that will take you if we do not act. These riches were meant to be your assurance in case of my demise; Instead, I must seal away all that I have earned in the hopes of saving you. There is no time to waste coming for you- Please find me.  Love, Scarlett. ”

She set down the scroll. “Earlier in it she writes about meeting some mystic that gave her information about a mysterious mirror and its curse. Something about lying toBeryl?”

“So she mentions it…” Knuckles pondered. “Legend states you need a blood sacrifice from someone else who’s ‘willing and knowledgeable about your intentions.’ Basically you lie and the other person gets cursed. Guess she found out a little too late.”

Rouge sat back in her chair, staring down at the collection of letters. “It’s well recorded that Scarlett recounted making some wish to become a great pirate. Historians just attribute it as a tall tale. Shame about Beryl, though,” she sighed. “In any case- this ‘Stone Mirror’ sounds dangerous.”

Knuckles nodded. “I don’t know how he found out, but I’m assuming it’s what Metal Sonic’s after.”

“... Okay. We’ll create a diversion to snatch up the mirror before the cameras can record it. But we’ll have to beat Metal Sonic there.”

The three of them nodded in agreement- Knuckles promising to find a way to destroy the dangerous artifact. And if they ran into their unexpected enemy at sea, there would be no choice but to subdue Metal Sonic before he could get his hands on it.

-----

Three days went by and there was still no sign of this mystical secret island, orany land for that matter. Actual pirates may have had work to do, but Metal Sonic’s three henchmen seemed to do the all work of a full crew in a quarter of the time. It left Amy and Metal with very little to do other than practice their swordsmanship and chat late into the night.

Amy picked up swordplay like it was second nature. It helped that there was little more to do, but she’d never had issues with swinging a weapon around. After a fourth day of practicing she was getting the hang of perrying against Metal Sonic and was serving combos that would give any other beginner a run for their money. Though she complained of sore muscles and exhaustion constantly, Amy fought against it nevertheless, advancing far quicker than either of them anticipated. Metal was forced to admit that he found it admirable- though he didn’t express it out loud.

Metal, for his part, found himself appreciating Amy’s companionship. Her witty nature complimented Metal’s droll quips, and she found it funny that he put so much effort into his tough pirate charade. He didn’t have anything to counter with when they’d shot back petty insults at one another and she’d finally burst into laughter, remarking on how insistent he was on appearing superior. Metal supposed she had a point, getting his own chuckle out of it. Amy continuously commented on how he would feel differently when his body was organic as if to test him. Of course, Metal played along, but each time he did, there was a nagging twitch in his mind.

The guilt Metal felt over manipulating Amy was beginning to weigh. For years, he’d waited for this kind of opportunity to get the upper hand on Sonic, to become something that not even his rival could imagine. Metal wasn’t sure what form he would ultimately take when he finally got hold of the Stone Mirror, but it was so far from the average organic being that Amy imagined for him. “I wonder what color your eyes will be,” she had mused aloud during an evening conversation- what a wholesome thought compared to Metal’s. He said that he hoped they’d be green like hers and got a laugh over her flustered babbling.

Out of all the things that could go wrong with his plan, feeling remorse was not something he prepared for. It’s not as if he’d ever felt guilty for acting in his own interest in the past, but Metal realized that he’d never worked with someone on a team as an equal, either. There was a sense of kinship between them that grew from fighting against the harrowing storm; They both quickly became comfortable in the other’s presence, as if having been friends for years. That was a first for Metal.

But he couldn’t let all his plotting and past failures go to waste. Metal wasn’t about to let one of his former enemies sway his plans. Amy was nice to have around but there would be others; this was the only time he’d get this opportunity.

But I may as well enjoy myself, he thought. After four days at sea spending most of Amy’s waking moments together, Metal had grown to enjoy their time together; It was a shame it wouldn’t last.

On day five, they met in his quarters while Metal dug around for another sharpened sword. He tossed props aside from a closet as he searched.

Amy stood at the shelf on the opposite end of the room, perusing through a book. “What are you looking for?”

“A sharpened sword,” he answered plainly.

“You have a sword… And claws...”

“It’s not for me- Ah, here we are.” Metal turned back to her, a sheathed sword in one hand and a long, red garment draped over the other. “H3 does find the strangest places to store things…”

Putting the book down, she spun to him curiously. “What’s that?”

“I missed seeing you in red,” he said in the most pompous tone he could manage, holding it out to her.

She took it with a smirk. “Another skirt?” Amy unrolled the garment, revealing a long, notched jacket with gold piping that framed it intricately.

“No, something more fitting this time.”

She threw it over herself excitedly. Belting the jacket at the waist, Amy smiled at her reflection. “Oh, it’s pretty. And way more functional,” she giggled, turning her friendly countenance to him. “Thanks.”

“I thought you would feel that way.” Metal unsheathed the sword and handed that to her as well. “Now we can really spar.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Seems kinda dangerous…”

“Hmph- I doubt you’ll land a hit,” Metal replied confidently. “And rest assured I will stop before the blade touches you.” He pointed the weapon at her theatrically.

Amy rolled her eyes. “It’s lunchtime- I’m taking a break.” She snatched the weapon from him, hanging it gingerly around her waist and making her way down to the kitchen. She was surprised to see Metal Sonic tagging along behind her. “You hungry?” she smirked.

“Something like that…”

She snickered a bit, not sure what to make of the comment but finding his presence enjoyable nonetheless. Amy got to work preparing her lunch while he observed her from across a high table, his cutlass drawn up to his eyes so he could look past it at her dramatically. She glanced at him with a scoff. “Making sure it’s sharp enough?”

“I can assure you, it is.”

Amy stuck out her tongue at him, sitting down on a tall stool to eat her lunch. “You are just as cocky as Sonic…”

Even if that was true, her comment irritated Metal. He sauntered around the table to her side, the sharp point of his weapon aimed at her. She didn’t appear phased. “I doubt that Sonic knows much about swordsmanship.”

“He’s apparently pretty skilled at it, actually,” Amy said, taking another bite.

“Seriously?”

With her mouth full, Amy shrugged. Metal lowered his sword, pacing around to her other side and looming over her shoulder. She continued to ignore his taunts as she ate. “I’m gonna grab some water…” Amy stood, continuing to watch him out of the corner of her eye. Turning back, she heard him speak again.

“En garde,” he announced with a lunge. The tip of his sword stopped just shy of her chest.

Glancing down at his weapon, Amy returned with a sweet smile. “Aw, how am I supposed to take you seriously if you won’t follow through?” She looked back up at him with doe eyes.

Metal met her soft gaze, locking his vision on her endearing face. “Well, would you like me to-”

Before he could finish, Amy had drawn her sword and gone for a parry, knocking his blade to the side. Then she lunged, closing the distance between them and bringing her weapon over his head. He swung his sword back up, blocking the hit. “Hmph! You’re just as impatient as Sonic, too,” Amy smirked.

“Argh!” Metal pushed her sword off and away from him, brandishing his in a ready position. “Will you continue to compare me to that imposter when I am organic?”

Amy held the same pose, teasing by twirling her weapon around in circles. “Depends. Are you gonna keep letting your life revolve around him?”

“Hm- How else would you and I get to spend time together?” Metal lunged, backing Amy against some kitchen equipment until she countered his attack with her own swing. She ducked underneath his next attack and backed away.

“You wanna hang out that bad?” she giggled. “Maybe just ask me out to coffee.”

“Oh,” Metal approached her slowly, his sword still drawn high. “What are those called again?”

“What are what called, weirdo?”

“Let me see…” As he continued his approach, Amy backed out through the kitchen door and into the narrow hallway. “Oh, a date ?”

Caught off guard, Amy lowered her weapon momentarily. He did the same as he neared her, their eyes locked. “Th-That’s not really-” His sword was upon her again a second later. She dodged, not having time to counter the sudden attack.Should’ve expected that, she thought, planning her next move.

But there was little time to think as Metal lunged toward her again, swinging from every direction as she struggled to block with her sword. They continued down the hall, clinking and striking their weapons together. Amy was just managing to remain defensive; he wouldn’t give her an opening.

Finally, Amy got in a parry after ducking from one of his swings and rolling behind him. When Metal turned back around, he narrowly avoided a swing that passed just under his chin. He sprung back. Out of striking distance, they both stared at each other, Metal holding his weapon down by his side. He was surprised that he didn’t feel the need to hold back more, feeling somewhat proud of Amy’s progress. But he wouldn’t let her know any of that.

“Ready to give up?” she teased.

He drew up the cutlass again, taking a step closer. “How easy could I possibly make it for you?”

Rather than fall back, Amy took his challenge and moved in his direction. “I don’t know… Looks like you’re having a pretty hard time to me,” she sneered. She was having more fun than she expected.

“I could say the same!” He rushed her then, Amy countering the next few swings.

Suddenly, they were each backed close to a wall as they stood in tandem in the narrow hallway, Metal just in front of a set of doors. As he swung again, she dove under his attack and through the double-doors. When the room came into full view, Amy looked on in awe. It was a grand ballroom, elegantly decorated in white and champagne- presumably for the wedding that was meant to be held there. Metal nearly landed a hit on her while she was distracted, but Amy seemed to be a master at dodging his lunges.

“Don’t get too distracted,” he taunted her.

“Hmph!”

Locked in battle, they continued moving down the length of the ballroom, circling around the winding rows of banquet tables and chairs. Metal was coming at Amy in full force, giving her little opportunity to counter. He could see her growing more tired now, her heart rate increasing exponentially as her breathing became more shallow. Taking advantage of this, Metal increased his speed and continued his swings, varying the direction so she couldn’t duck behind him again. They fought their way to the front of the room where the space was more open. Footsteps clicked as they stepped across the hard dancefloor that spanned from wall to wall at the front of the ballroom. Soon, Metal had completely backed Amy into a wall as she panted.

Amy realized that she was, perhaps, a bit too confident. Even if she were to get to a point where her skills surpassed his, Metal Sonic couldn’t tire in battle as fast as she would. She had to find a different advantage.

When she tried to perform an unexpected lunge, his sword made contact with her own so harshly that she lost her grip. It clanged to the ground next to her. Metal used his forearm to pin Amy to the wall by her chest.

She let out a grunt as she clashed with the wall behind her. Panting, Amy glared up at him in exasperation. “Are you satisfied now?”

“I am… impressed.” Metal cocked his head to one side, observing as her chest heaved under his grip. “But I knew you wouldn’t best me so easily.”

“Really? I thought you had more confidence in your teaching skills. I know I’m a great coach...”

Metal stared on at her curiously. “Is that so? And what do you teach?”

Amy gestured to the floor with her eyes. “I taught Sonic how to tango pretty well-” She was cut off as he pressed his forearm against her more firmly.

“Hmph- if you think that will distract me-”

“Hey,” Amy’s face softened into a smile as she interrupted him. She reached a hand up, taking hold of Metal’s lapel. He glanced down at the gesture in confusion. “You wanna know how else you’re like Sonic?”

“... Do tell.”

“C’mere.” Amy held an almost saccharine expression as she gently tugged his collar toward her.

She hardly had to pull as Metal allowed himself to be drawn into her. It may have been a ruse- he was fairly confident in that- but he was greatly interested in what she had to say as she lifted her chin to speak into his ear. Metal remained vigilant as Amy continued.

“You’re really cute,” she whispered.

Staggering back, Metal fixed her eyes with his. She twinkled back at him. “What do you-”

A sharp blow to the side of his head sent Metal off from atop Amy and to the ground. He lost command of his sword just as her enormous hammer came into his peripheral view. Of course - the thought ran across his mind as Metal landed on his side noisily. Amy sprinted to snatch his sword from off the ground as he readied to come back on his feet- but her boot heel was upon his chest before he got any further than facing her. Metal’s heavy body banged on the hard dancefloor as she pushed him down under her foot. Amy stood over him with his own sword pointed just under Metal’s chin. She was grinning from ear to ear as she watched his broken eye illuminate for a moment.

Metal would have been furious if she’d looked malicious, but her sparkling grin was so… cheery. “It’s cute that you think you can beat me so easily!” Amy laughed with genuine amusement as she removed her boot from his body.

His left eye now flickering again, Metal could only manage to glare for a second until he found himself chuckling as well. “That was most certainly cheating…”

“Didn’t know you had such strict rules.” Beaming, Amy allowed the hammer to disappear from her grasp and offered Metal a hand up. The lights in his left eye sputtered out again as he stood. “Hey, I almost fixed your eye! Maybe another wack will do it,” she smiled.

“Somehow I doubt that.” He hadn’t let go of her hand, instead using it to jerk her toward him. “But perhaps you could show me your little dance now?”

“Ah… I don’t know if you’d really enjoy it.” Amy offered Metal his sword, holding it between them.

He took it from her gently and slid it down by his side. “Won’t you indulge me?”

Her cheeks flushed lightly. Amy had just said it to distract him; she could teach, but she suddenly felt flustered in such close proximity. “Well… Maybe-”

The room shook then. Metal kept Amy from losing her footing as the ship rolled unexpectedly. They gave each other a look of concern.

“Is it another storm?” Amy asked.

Metal shook his head. “No- come to the deck, don’t forget your sword.”

He was floating out the door before Amy could find the words to respond. She followed him, picking up the weapon she’d dropped to sprint down the hall and up the long staircases.

“Surrender Amy Rose and the artifacts at once!” Rouge was flying above her deck speaking into her  megaphone with Knuckles, Tails, and her crew on deck below. Her ship floated across from Metal Sonic’s as cameramen focused on both of the captains.

Metal stood nonchalantly with his arms crossed behind, amplifying his voice to speak. “I can assure you she is under no duress.”

Knuckles had managed to snag a megaphone of his own and was now putting the full force of his voice into it. “Then where is she?!”

Metal squinted at the rumbling noise, his receptors vibrating uncomfortably. “Argh- You do not need to yell into that, I can hear you just fine.”

“Tell us where she is now!” Knuckles was getting ready to threaten him as Amy busted through to the deck. The three henchmen burst through just behind her.

When she spotted her friends, Amy’s face lit up and she ran to the ship’s railing. Metal remained in his stately pose behind her in an attempt to indicate that there was no threat. “Guys!” Amy waved, “I’m okay!”

Leaning close to the rails, Knuckles yelled into his megaphone again. “We can’t hear you-”

“Knuckles, that’s enough! I can hear her just fine so shut up,” Rouge snapped down at him. He crossed his arms irritably, grumbling. “Amy,” she continued, “we’re here to rescue you; are you hurt?”

Waving her hands in front of her, Amy answered as loud as she could. “Rouge, I’m fine! Are you guys okay?”

“Us?” she looked puzzled, “You were the one who was kidnapped...”

“It’s okay, I’m, uh…” she turned to beckon Metal, who looked almost bored at the turn of events. He approached her slowly, keeping an eye on the others. Once he was within reach, Amy clung to his arm in a friendly gesture as his expression became nonplused. “I’m helping Metal! Let’s team up!”

He whipped around to her with reproach. “That is not part of the plan!”

“Plans can change,” she responded in a low voice before addressing Rouge again. “Let us aboard and I’ll explain!”

Completely perplexed, Rouge didn’t know how to respond. Knuckles was shouting at her to repeat what Amy was saying and Tails began to call out to her as well. “Don’t move,” Rouge directed a command at Metal with a glare before floating down to the others. “What do you two want?!”

Tails pushed Knuckles aside in order to get a word in. “We’ve detected an island 30 naughtical miles from here in the direction of the compass- there’s no other land within range. It has to be the place. We can be there in the next couple of hours. We need to get Amy back ASAP.”

“We’re that close?” Rouge glanced back across the way to the other ship, where Amy and Metal appeared to be… arguing? Their tones were too hushed to decipher the speech, but neither was fighting the other. Though they both waved their hands around in apparent annoyance, Amy held him close to her without any resistance. Rouge didn’t know what to make of it. “She said… she’s helping him.”

“Helping Metal Sonic?” Tails looked just as confused now.

Knuckles butted back in, shoving Tails aside. “She said that? What’s his game?”

“How should I know?” Rouge brought her hands to her hips in frustration. “She said she wants to come aboard to explain.”

“That sounds like a trap!”

Rouge nodded in agreement. “But it’s the only way to get her back peacefully. We’ll just have to be ready for him.”

The boys each nodded in reluctant agreement. Rouge took a breath and quietly signaled her crew to be on alert. Approaching the side of her ship, she called out to the others. “You may board. We will extend the bridge.”

Amy and Metal paused their arguing to come to her attention. “Don’t you-” he started before Amy interrupted him.

“No need, we’ll fly over!” She faced him. “Come on, let’s go.” He glared at her with resentment, worried he’d just be ambushed and forced to engage, putting his plan in jeopardy. Amy tightened her grip on his arm and lowered her voice. “I’ll hold on to you so they don’t attack.”

His glare softened. That should work , he thought with some remorse. He wished he could feel more positively about tricking Amy so well she was willing to risk her safety for him. When Metal nodded, she climbed into his arms readily. She really held no doubt in him.

“You three,” he told his henchmen, “... be on alert.” H1 shot forward, standing on the ship’s railing and pointing ahead. “... Yes, I suppose I should bring one of you. Move.” Metal could the others’ clinking salutes as he and H1 lifted off, Metal flying over the sea carefully with Amy. A cameraman on a lower deck followed their path while another stood near Rouge, recording their landing. The little minion stood readily by Metal’s feet as the crew took steps towards them, encircling them steadily. Metal gazed around at them but did not move.

Knuckles came the closest. “It’s time to drop her,” he demanded.

“Very well.” Metal lowered Amy to her feet and she quickly wrapped herself around his arm, taking a step in front of him.

“I’m okay, Knuckles. I’m gonna hang onto Metal for now, okay?”

“Why? What is this?” Knuckles was shouting again, continuing his approach. “Did you do something to her brain?”

Metal scoffed, standing his ground. “What exactly do you think I could do?” A camera came up close to the side of his face while a mic loomed above. He turned his head sharply, his single blazing eye catching the crewmember off guard. “Is there something I can help you with?” The cameraman scrambled back, making himself scarce.

“Metal, just ignore it,” Amy tugged on him while his eye rolled around his screen.

“Alright,” Rouge’s assertive voice cut through the crowd that was quickly forming in front of them. “Everyone back off, you’ll hear my signal if I need you. That goes for you, too, Knucklehead. Move!” As her crew dispersed and the cameras backed to a safe distance, Rouge stood some feet in front of them. “So you made friends with Metal Sonic? I’d find it cute if I wasn’t still bruised from his last attack.”

Amy chuckled awkwardly back at her. “Yeah, well… you look great in your new uniform.”

“Hmph.” Rouge cracked a smile as she saw Amy there, protecting her unlikely friend from attack. It was almost sweet. “Well I’m relieved you don’t look too bad yourself. Cute jacket.”

“Thanks, uh… Metal picked it out,” Amy smiled.

“Really?” Rouge turned her attention to him. “Charming. Now what is it you want?”

When he didn’t respond after a few seconds, Amy cut in. “Metal has a… request. For the Stone Mirror.”

“What?!” Knuckles came booming back, stomping his feet.

Rouge held her arm out in front of him with a brief glare, then continued. “We’ll talk in my quarters. No cameras. Come on,” she turned on her heel and beckoned for only Amy and her “friends” to join her. They all followed behind Rouge awkwardly as the crew murmured around them, cameras following their every move.

Rouge locked the door behind them once they were in the privacy of her office. Then she faced Amy and scolded her. “You cannot go around mentioning magical artifacts in front of the crew. Why do you think you were all after it in the first place?”

Amy shrunk back, still clinging to a silent Metal Sonic. “Sorry… You’re right…”

Rouge sighed with exasperation, sinking into her chair. “Will you all sit?! You’re making me anxious.” As everyone complied, Knuckles most reluctantly, Rouge addressed Metal Sonic with some sarcasm. “I would love to hear what you have in mind for the mirror.”

After some seconds of silence, Amy nudged him. H1 climbed up the chair legs to sit in his lap, staring up at him. Metal shot them each an irritated look before starting. “I would like to use the Stone Mirror to become… organic.” He’d lied to Amy so easily, but was almost embarrassed to show such vulnerability with the rest of his enemies.

“Organic?” Rouge massaged her temple. “I don’t even know what to say to that. And Amy, you believe this?”

“Doesn’t matter if she believes it or not,” Knuckles butted in, “there’s no way Metal Sonic’s getting his hands on the mirror!”

Rouge nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m inclined to agree.”

Amy ignored Knuckles and spoke to her instead. “For the record, I do believe him. And I think it’s a good reason to use the mirror.”

Rouge shushed Knuckles before he could start again. “Amy… There’s something you should see.” She opened the top drawer of her desk and retrieved the same copy of the map she’d shown Tails and Knuckles. “I’m sure you know about Scarlett’s treasure and her letters to her wife, Beryl.” Metal’s piercing glare was already scanning through the text in the letters as Amy nodded. Rouge explained the entirety of the Stone Mirror’s curse, blood sacrifice and all, as Amy listened in shock.

“Amy,” Rouge’s tone softened. “This is a big risk for you…”

“Look, this thing cursed Beryl because of her wife’s dishonesty.” Knuckles got up angrily, pointing a finger at Metal Sonic. “Are you really willing to risk that for him ?”

“ Oh, ” Amy lowered her eyes in thought, her grip on Metal’s arm loosening slightly.

“The only way to lift the curse was for her to give her own blood and leave everything she’d gained behind; Hence why she sent for Beryl to meet back with her on the island. She tragically passed before making it off the ship.” Rouge stood from her desk and circled around to the front, facing Amy and folding her arms. “And I’m sorry to say I don’t trust Metal Sonic as far as I can throw him.”

The new information shouldn’t have changed Metal’s plan. He was willing to do anything for an advantage against his nemesis- or so he thought. But now, spending a few days with one of his enemies was enough to sway him? He supposed he could get The Doctor to sacrifice for him- he would revel in the opportunity to take Sonic down... No, he thought, I can’t let her get in my way. It wasn’t as if she’d be safe from him when he finally transformed into whatever monster he could conjure. And yet…

“If I may,” he spoke finally, placing his claws softly over Amy’s hand as it held his forearm. “Your blood will not be necessary. Someone else can take the burden.” He turned to Rouge. “I am only asking for use of the artifact to fulfill my wish.”

“Fat chance,” Knuckles interjected. “I still don’t believe you’re telling the truth- no way I’m letting you turn into a monster again. No deal.”

“Knuckles…” Rouge strode over to him. “Can I have a word, privately?”

He raised a brow at her but agreed. “... Fine. Tails, keep an eye on Metal Sonic.”

“Sure?” the boy looked at his enemy, sitting calmly with one of his best friends at his side. He hardly looked threatening.

As they stepped out, Amy faced Metal again. “Who’s gonna help you if I don’t?”

“... I believe The Doctor will be willing.”

Tails looked at them skeptically. “Eggman knows you wanna do this?”

“No,” Metal replied, once again carefully curating his words so they did not sound suspicious- or make him feel any worse. “He has few details of my plan. I am not sure how he tracked us a few days ago, but I do not believe he will deny me. I wanted to complete the task independently, but I will do what I must.”

“Well I’ll help you if he won’t,” Amy assured.

“Amy, you’ll die if he’s lying,” Tails shot back.

She scoffed as if it didn’t matter. “We’ll all die if he’s lying.”

“How is that better?! How can you be sure he’s telling the truth?”

Amy paused. She felt his steely fingers on her and focused her ears on his gently whirring engine. H1 looked at her from Metal’s lap expectantly. It wasn’t clear to her just why she’d grown to trust him so quickly, but she knew in her heart he would do the right thing. “Because he wants someone to kick his butt at sword fighting,” she smiled. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it the past few days, you know.”

Metal could no longer look at her. He removed his hand from atop hers and sat silently, trying not to let the guilt overcome him.

Tails’ face contorted. “What are you even talking about?”

The door cracked open then, Rouge stepping back inside. She addressed Metal Sonic directly. “We will allow you use of the Stone Mirror,” she began. “Knuckles will take it immediately after. No one on my crew is to know about it- we’re after the treasure only. We expect to come up on the island in the next hour, so get back to your ship and wait for a tow.”

“That soon?” Metal asked.

“Yes. You are not to step foot on land in order to avoid suspicion. We’ll recover the artifacts.”

“... Very well. Let us return, then.” He removed H1 from his lap and rose, Amy’s fingers slipping away from him.

“Amy’s staying with us,” Knuckles called from the door.

Amy’s cheeks puffed indignantly. “ Amy’s going where she wants. I’m staying with Metal.” She stood and pushed Knuckles out of her way, taking her leave.

Metal thanked Rouge and went past the others without a second glance, his lackey scurrying behind. There was no doubt they were plotting something against him, and Metal was determined to make it onto that island and get his hands on the mirror himself- by force if necessary. He would do anything. Almost anything .

The second Amy and Metal stepped out, a set of cameras once again bombarded them. It assured they went away and off the ship quickly so Metal Sonic couldn’t hear what was being discussed in Rouge’s quarters without them.

Inside, Tails got up from his seat. “Are we really just gonna let Metal Sonic use the mirror?”

“Absolutely not,” Knuckles shot back.

“But Amy doesn’t need to know that yet.” Rouge leaned back on the front of her desk pensively. “We’re getting ahead of him so he can’t threaten us with whatever he wants to do with the mirror. No doubt Metal Sonic will get... forceful.”

“Stubborn girl,” Knuckles grumbled. “It’d be easier to keep her safe if she’d stayed here…”

“Arguing with her would blow our cover; and she can take care of herself. Let’s just be ready for whatever he throws at us.”

Tails’ ears drooped slightly. “I wish Sonic could help us, he’d make quick work of Metal…”

“Who needs him?” Knuckles puffed his chest out confidently. “I’m bored of watching them fight anyway!”

-----

Metal and Amy stood at the bow of his great ship, the breeze blowing through Amy’s hair gently. She leaned forward, looking into the horizon, waiting to spot land. They were moving a little faster now as Rouge’s vessel towed them across the sea. Metal stood next to her watching the compass intently. They continued on the right path. It was minutes away now.

Suddenly the hidden inscription on the back made a lot more sense. He shone a pale violet light over it and read- The Mirror’s bloodlust was nothing to me, for I’d have bled myself dry for you. It didn’t just seem like useless theatrics, but the caring words of someone willing to sacrifice for another. What Metal didn’t understand, however, was how Amy was so ready and willing to do the same for him. Worse than deceptive, it felt undeserved.

Spotting his intense concentration on the compass, Amy spoke up. “Crazy how Beryl gave everything to Scarlett like that, huh?”

Metal did his best to shake his head clear of the guilt. “Yes. I suppose she cared for her.”

“That’s an understatement,” Amy chuckled.

“Is it? Then... what is it you feel that makes you so willing to do the same for me?”

Amy swiveled over to look at him directly. He stared down at the compass, not meeting her gaze. “I guess I think it’ll be good for us both.”

“How can you be so sure? Are you convinced I will immediately betray The Doctor and join your team?”

“I guess not…” Amy frowned at the thought. She knew it was an unrealistic expectation, though she remained hopeful he would change for the better somehow. “But I think we should all be free to make our own choices. Maybe you’ll make some good ones.”

“I am not so sure…”

There was a drawn-out sigh as she leaned her back in contemplation. Amy couldn’t help but see the good in people, and when she looked at Metal now, she saw more than a lifeless machine. There was passion in his voice and enthusiasm in his demeanor whenever they indulged in his interests. There was a small sparkle in his eye when they spoke. She had seen him joyful, and concentrated, and playful, where all she would have previously associated him with was rage. But more than that, Amy felt a connection, like perhaps this was something they were meant to do together. How else could they have become such fast friends? Friends, she smiled at the thought. It filled her with optimism. She rolled her head back on her shoulder to look to him again, their eyes locking this time. He’d been staring- it wasn’t the first time she noticed, but he didn’t dart his eyes away this time.

Softening her eyes, Amy looked at him dreamily in the late afternoon light. “I think you’ll do what’s right for you. That’s enough for me.”

Seeing that honeyed expression and hearing such genuine words, Metal never regretted anything more than he regretted bringing her along. I should have just worked alone, he scolded himself. How could he have miscalculated the outcome so terribly? In his mind, Amy would reluctantly agree to help and he’d otherwise use her as a shield against her friends’ attack;. Nothing prepared him for feeling something toward her. There was a kinship, a bond that quickly formed like puzzle pieces fitting together. They managed to just… click. There was no room in his plan for that. But he was so close…

“I do not believe your friends have such faith in me,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I kinda got that feeling. I think we’re gonna have to sneak onto that island first if you want a chance at the mirror.”

That was nothing short of surprising to hear. “You would deceive your friends?”

“It’s for a good cause- they’ll forgive me. You’ll see.”

For the first time in days, land came into view on the horizon. It was a lush green island with little more than a tall mountain rising from its center. It was tiny even as they approached. Metal and Amy exchanged looks as they spotted it.

“Looks like this is it,” she remarked. “Just a teeny island with a little mountain…”

“It appears that way.” He scanned as far as he could zoom with his optics, getting a closer look at the landscape that was still some miles away. “That, however, is a volcano.”

“No kidding...” Amy glanced around the side of the vessel. “Is there a boat around here? We need to sneak ahead if we want to reach the treasure before the others.”

“I have a better idea...”

As Rouge and her crew were making preparations to dock, Tails spotted something flying in the distance. A look through his binoculars revealed H3 and H4 flying in tandem at full speed, apparently trying to get ahead of both ships. “Hey, those are Metal’s lackeys over there.”

Rouge ripped the binoculars from his hands. “They’re trying to get ahead of us, then? We’ll see about that. Tails, come with me; Knuckles, maybe you should pay our friend a visit.” Knuckles nodded as the others both kicked themselves off and toward the flying robots.

They caught up to them quickly and tried to block their way, but were soon engaged in battle. H3 and H4 used primarily evasive tactics and steadily drifted them in the opposite direction of the island while Knuckles made his way across Rouge’s ship and over to Metal’s.

Knuckles climbed over the tow rope that connected the ships and landed on deck with a shout. “Metal Sonic! Call back your minions, now!” Not hearing an answer, Knuckles stomped across the hard floor until he found the entrance to the captain’s quarters just below the helm. Not one to wait for invitations, he made quick work of the door with his fists. He punched through the splintered wood, finding Metal Sonic sitting across the room, the back of his captain’s hat visible over the winged armchair that faced away from the door. “I said call them back now!” Metal did not respond. “Did you hear me? And where’s Amy?!” Knuckles marched over to the chair, swiveling it around to face him. “I said-”

Instead of Metal Sonic, Knuckles was met with H1, who quickly ambushed him with his long rope-arms, holding him in place. “Damn you little-” Knuckles continued to struggle against H1, his master nowhere to be found.

“Well done, H1,” a shrill voice chimed from the door.

Knuckles twisted his body around clumsily to look. The rage in his eyes grew when he saw him. “Eggman!” Knuckles yelled just as his voice was swallowed up by H1’s coils around his mouth.

Meanwhile, Metal carried Amy swiftly over the water, floating quietly close to its surface. They stuck near the side of Rouge’s ship until they snuck ahead of it. The pair managed to make it to shore well before Rouge’s crew as she and the others remained distracted with Metal’s henchmen. They booked it across the sandy beach and onto the greener area, searching for another clue as to where exactly they’d find the treasure.

“Okay… what now?” Amy’s eyes darted around the scenery looking for any hint of a hidden treasure.

Metal looked to the compass that continued to point northward. “This way,” he instructed, accelerating into the small forest of palms that surrounded the volcano’s base with Amy on his heels. They ran deep into the tropical thicket as the sky above changed hue, the sun nearing the horizon. It wasn’t long before they reached a black stone wall overgrown with moss.

“Looks like this is the end of the line…” Amy ran her hand along the wall in search of another hint.

As Metal approached, he found the hand that held the compass was repelled, as if an invisible force pushed it away. Intruiged, he held out his other arm, feeling no such push. The device’s hand spun left and right wildly as he waved it in front of the wall. “Interesting…” He placed a claw on the wall, scratching at it. He was able to make a mark on its surface with little effort. “This is some kind of volcanic rock. It repels whatever this is made of…”

“Really? Must be why it points in the other direction?” Unsure of what else to do, Amy pulled the little crystal spyglass from her pocket, looking through its eyepiece. She scanned the wall up and down, the atmospheric light turning deep red as it had just before they’d set sail together. She stopped, finding a small spot that glowed faintly. It was a small divot in the rock. “There’s something here...” Amy pawed at the vines that crept up its surface, scratching off years of moss that had grown over the glowing spot.

She finally revealed the formation under all the greenery. “Oh! It’s shaped like-”

“Like a heart,” Metal interrupted, shining his own violet light upon the small heart-shaped crater. He approached it slowly, eyes fixed on the compass. Its rapidly twisting arrow straightened as he neared the spot. The correctly pointed side of the arrow indicated straight ahead. Reaching out, the compass practically jumped out of his hand from the magnetic pull as he moved to place it in the glowing divot.

To their left, the rocky base of the volcano rumbled. They whipped around to find a wall shifting, vines and moss tearing apart as a stone slab lifted off the ground to reveal a narrow entrance to a hollow cave within.

“Well that seems like a pretty clear path to me,” Amy grinned. But it was short lived as a sudden explosion boomed from the direction of the beach. Worried for her friends, Amy looked at Metal with concern. “What was that?”

Metal was just as shocked. “I don’t know…” He raised his eyeline to scan the sky, seeming to spot something not far away. Why here? He asked himself as he recognized the round figure.

“Why are you here?” he amplified his voice to The Doctor.

“To help you get the Stone Mirror, of course!” he called back giddily. “I’ll be happy to give you what you need! What form are you taking?” Another silhouette came into view above not far from them.

Metal shot a glance back at Amy. “When did you call him?” She stared up at Eggman with confusion.

“I didn’t,” Metal responded. Before he could think of what to tell Amy, he watched as H1 hovered down next to The Doctor, his arms still tangled around an enraged Knuckles. But Metal didn’t call for H1, either- which could only mean it was The Doctor’s doing. “Is this how you found me?” Metal growled, incensed at the realization.

“Wasn’t H1 useful?” Eggman cackled. “I know you wanted to work on your own, but aren’t you glad I was watching now that you need me?”

Metal was within reach of completing his mission on his own terms. The sight of his master infuriated him, his determination to succeed without The Doctor's help returning in full-force. He’d convinced Amy, he’d made it to the island- he was going to complete his objective. Why should he feel guilty about that?

“I don’t need you!” he roared. “I have everything I need!” He accelerated toward H1, grabbing the smaller robot by his shoulders as Knuckles uttered muffled curses while they flailed around in mid-air. “ Double-crossing heap of scrap metal! ” Metal’s voice rang out with a harsh mechanical twinge as he took hold of either of H1’s arms and swiftly ripped them out of their sockets, dropping Knuckles a few feet to the ground. As H1 kicked his feet around helplessly, Metal grabbed him by the head and catapulted him out of sight, far back in the direction of the beach.

His eye radiated a fierce, burning glow as he whipped around to face Amy, who looked horrified at his actions. “We need to go, now!”

“What? But what about-”

“Go!” Metal extended his arm out, shoving Amy through the cave opening.

“Metal!” Eggman shouted, “What’s gotten into you? That’ll take me all evening to fix!”

Ignoring him, Metal flew back toward the opening as Knuckles began to slip away from the heavy uncoiling tubes. “I’ll leave you to deal with him, ” he called back to The Doctor. Once inside the cave, Metal shot his arm out once more, grabbing and ripping the compass from its spot in the wall. The limb retracted back past the opening just as the stone wall fell back into place, narrowly avoiding crushing his hand.

They were swallowed in the pitch darkness of the cave. Metal illuminated his thermal vision in search of a path ahead, but was met with Amy’s panicked eyes first. Unable to see, she groped around for a wall to follow until Metal grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.

She did not look the slightest bit relieved. “Metal! I can’t see anything…”

“I can guide us; let’s go.”

“Wait- what was…” he saw her glance back toward the direction of the cave entrance unhappily. “I mean, wasn’t that kinda harsh? What you did to H1…”

“Perhaps- but he was a traitor as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yeah, but, you really seemed to hurt him...”

The clock was ticking and there was only so much time before the others would come after them. “He will be fine,” Metal grumbled impatiently, starting forward.

Amy let herself be pulled along, but she wasn’t dropping the question. “It’s just… is that really the kind of person you want to be?” Amy quickly remembered how she’d thought of Metal. She had forgotten how absurd it was that she’d agreed to help him and how he’d coerced her into it to begin with.

“I’ve been betrayed, how would you have liked me to react?”

“Were you? It really sounds like Eggman was trying to help you-”

“I don’t need his help!” He cut Amy off. Her eyes cast down anxiously and Metal registered the doubt and unease in her face. She almost looked sick, stumbling in the dark and frightened by his violent reaction. He knew she was right to feel that way, but his mind was made up- he would do whatever it took to use the Stone Mirror without The Doctor’s help. And Amy had to be willing, so something had to be said to assuage her. “I can’t be indebted to him any longer. I need to do this alone.”

“But you can’t do it alone, Metal, that’s the point!” Amy’s hands fumbled over his arm until she reached his shoulder, facing up at the single glowing eye, the only thing she could see. “I know you wanna be independent, but we all depend on people. Don’t you think he cares about you if he’s willing to give you this much freedom?”

In a way, she was right- but without knowing the truth, Amy would never understand. Metal highly doubted The Doctor would actually help if he’d really wished to become organic, but he could not deny his master’s well-meaning interest. They had the same goal, after all… Metal just knew he could accomplish it without him. Perhaps then he could feel as if he were an equal in his empire and not just some high-ranking lackey. But how much of that could he really tell her?

“It is different… He created me, and he can control me. I cannot escape his shadow.”

“Is having flesh and blood really gonna change that?”

“... I do not know.” Any illumination provided by Metal’s eye turned to darkness. To Amy, it looked like he’d closed his eyes, though he continued to lead her forward without issue. He just wanted her to look away, making the guilt easier to beat down- but she held her ground. Metal continued, turning his face from her. “I believe that changing my form will give me some sovereignty, making me more respectable in his eyes... It is complicated.”

“I know.” Amy looked for the red LEDs to come back on so she could look Metal in the eye, but they remained out. “But I think you can accomplish that as you are.”

Metal stopped as they approached a wall. He could still see Amy looking lamentful in his peripheral vision, her hand in his as the other clung to his shoulder assuringly. This must have been where the treasure was stored, but he wasn’t sure he could still bring himself to deceive her. He made himself visible to her again, shining his red light on her face. He felt her exhale, as if relieved, when he did. “Are you… still willing to help me?”

A small smile spread across her lips. “Of course. I just wanted you to know that I think you’re capable, you know?”

Perhaps secretly, he’d hoped she would refuse. But there was no turning back now. “I believe we are here...”

“What is it?”

“A door… without a handle.” He stared at the wall head, a smooth slab that extended from the floor to the ceiling of the cave. The shape of a door looked to be carved into it, a circular cavity in place of where a doorknob would be. Words were painted in a neat script following the shape of the hole, appearing to have faded over the decades. “There is a bore hole. It reads, ‘For my greatest treasure: my gem, Beryl.’”

“Oh, ’cause Beryl is named after a gemstone, right? Pretty romantic,” Amy teased, wanting to lighten the mood.

“It is… clever.” Metal examined the hole in the door, measuring its diameter and determining its depth. Amy knelt ahead of him, her hand sliding off his shoulder and reaching out to the wall. She ran her fingers blindly along its surface in search of a clue. He watched as she felt around the great stone barrier, apparently determined to do whatever she could to help. With Amy’s other hand still held in his own, Metal led her to the carved edge of the doorframe. “This is the door,” he said, her fingers tracing down the groove in the stone. “And the bore hole.” He pulled her hand to the spot in the door where one would find a doorknob.

Amy placed her palm over it. “It’s kinda warm,” she remarked, feeling as balmy air flowed through from the other side.

“Yes,” he agreed, hesitantly pulling away.

“ My gem, Beryl, ” she repeated. “Hm…” Fumbling around her pocket, Amy pulled out the spyglass and held it up with the bluish crystal at the end. “Does this look like beryl?”

Metal’s hard claws clicked against the crystal as he held it between his thumb and forefinger. “It does… how theatrical.” There was amusement in his voice as he realized. “Shall we?”

Amy nodded, beaming with excitement. She brought the eyepiece end up to the hole in the wall, letting Metal push the crystal into the divot until it clicked. Pulling herself up by his arm, Amy gave him an encouraging nudge. Metal paused. He stared down at her a moment. “Go on,” she insisted with a smile.

Before they could move ahead, however, a sliver of orange light entered through the floor of the stone corridor. Looking back, Metal and Amy found the door to the cave once again rising, Rouge’s silhouette just illuminated in the late sunset as it rose. Knuckles and Tails weren’t far behind her but neither Eggman nor any of the henchmen were within sight. “This is the end of the line!” she commanded, stepping into the cave.

Metal and Amy shared a brief glance, and she gave him a single nod. “Do what you have to, but be careful, okay?”

If there was a time for Metal to reverse his decision, it was now. But though he hesitated, Metal returned her nod and turned to face the cave opening. The cavity in his chest began to glow with a white light that quickly brightened, luminous with energy. “I suggest you remain where you are,” he warned Rouge.

She stepped back slightly with a gasp, unsure if she could block his attack. “Amy, call him off before someone gets hurt!” she demanded.

Amy shook her head desperately. “Just stay back!”

Knuckles came charging in then, his eyes ablaze as he rushed past Rouge and started down the length of the corridor. Tails made a fruitless effort to stop him but was quickly pushed out of the way.

Rouge yelled, following after Knuckles. “Don’t!”

The compression chamber in Metal’s chest was charged, brilliant with energy. He turned his head slightly to Amy. “You stand back as well,” he advised. Not letting Knuckles get too close, Metal levitated a few inches up and aimed his chest engine up toward the cave ceiling. Rouge just managed to tackle Knuckles to the ground as Metal’s laser fired into the stone ceiling, causing a pile of gravel to rain down between them. Metal shot himself backward and away from the falling stone. As his feet hit the ground, he forced Amy to the wall and stood between her and the collapsing ceiling, blocking the stray debris with his body.

She shut her eyes and used her arms to shield her head, but Metal didn’t let so much as a pebble past his frame. As the dust cleared, Amy peeked up. Metal towered above her crouched form, only his glowing eye once again visible in the darkened cave as it stared down at her. Amy hid her face, slightly flushed from the excitement- and the proximity.

Metal pushed himself from the wall, offering her a hand. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she squeaked, accepting the boost. “What about you?”

“No sustained damage.”

They stared at each other for a moment, once again hand in hand. Metal listened to her quickened heartbeat and observed the warmth surrounding her face. Amy panted lightly. She looked especially radiant in his thermal vision, her cheeks illuminated bright red. “Thank you,” Metal blurted out.

She looked at what little she could see of him with wide eyes. “What… what for?”

He wasn’t sure. “For… everything.”

“Well,” Amy slipped her hand away from his gently. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re almost there! Oh-” she hopped past him and lifted her voice, hoping it reached the other side of the debris pile. “Are you guys okay?”

There was a short pause before Rouge called back. “You’re lucky no one’s hurt!”

Amy released her tense breath. “Thank goodness! I’m sorry, we’re going to the treasure room now!”

“The what?!”

They could hear Rouge cursing from across the heap momentarily. Then Metal could just catch Tails utter something before their voices quickly faded away.

“I think we should hurry,” Amy said, hurrying back to his side. Metal simply nodded, reaching for the eyepiece in the wall.

The crystal spyglass turned like a knob in a door. Metal pulled it open and was immediately greeted with a burst of hot air that shot past them, the stone door acting as the only barrier to keep them from being scorched. As the air passed, the enormous chamber beyond became illuminated with torches lining the walls. On the farthest wall, a thin stream of magma flowed down the height of the farthest wall, making the space sear with radiant heat.

Standing ahead of her to look past the door, Metal cautioned Amy. “We are here. But for some reason Scarlett decided to store her treasure in a magma chamber.”

“That’s… terrifying. What else is in there?”

Metal stepped from the back of the stone door, standing in the entrance of the mysterious chamber with its seemingly magical torches and streaming lava. And then there was the treasure; Mounds of sparkling gold coins that glittered even in the dreariest of light were speckled with ingots and gilded statues all across the dusty ground. The center of the room was covered inches deep in jewels, silvery blades buried within the treasure to their gem encrusted hilts. Within it, on a platform mounded with riches, sat an ivory casket, its edges shining with golden filigree inlaid with rubies and sapphires. And finally, atop it all sat a simple stone box, its dull surface clashing with the glimmering room. “What we have been looking for,” Metal said with more lament than he intended.

Pushing past the door, Amy stood next to him and took in the magnificent sight for herself. She gasped with awe, her wide eyes shining with a golden halo in the warm light. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed. Amy stepped inside, giggling. “Rouge is gonna freak!”  The balmy air was stifling, but she ignored it and moved ahead, approaching the room’s center.

He followed her in cautiously, kicking random bits of treasure aside. “Be careful, there could be traps…” He watched as she pushed ahead, seeing her trod through the thick blanket of coins that littered the ground without hesitation. She fanned herself and pulled on her blouse collar uncomfortably, but headed straight for the macabre chest that sat in the middle of it all. There was no uncertainty in her stride- Amy was determined to help Metal in any way possible. He didn’t expect that to be so devastating.

Amy made her way up the elevated platform, standing on her toes to reach up to the top of the casket. There was an inscription on the lid of the stone box that sat on it. “ DO NOT OPEN,” it read. Raising a brow, Amy leaned in closer to find additional words on the front. “There’s an inscription on here…” She read it aloud: “The box reads, ‘In this casket lies Beryl, all I loved besides the sea. In this box, my remorse. Leave this cursed object where you found it; The remainder of this wretched treasure is yours. Scarlett.’ Oh…”

Reaching her side, Metal stared at the inscription that just reached his eye level.Remorse, he repeated to himself silently. “I suppose this is what we are here for.”

Amy sighed. “Yeah, I guess we should do this quick,” she reached out to the box.

Metal thought about stopping her, taking her hand and pulling it away from her cursed fate, but he did not get the opportunity. Something suddenly came crashing through the rocky wall of the chamber, chunks of stone booming as they scattered to the ground.

The cavern rumbled. Amy held onto the edge of the casket for support while Metal stabilized himself and turned his vision to the crash site. The bow of a metallic ship had pushed its way through to the cavern, its steely peak unaffected by the collision. As the rubble settled and the early moonlight seeped in through cracks, Eggman strode out onto the deck with a cackle. “What do you think of my new ship?” He extended his arms proudly. “She floats and flies!”

Metal was fuming. There he was, pushing past his immense guilt and moments from fulfilling his goal, only to be interrupted by The Doctor once again. Amy could sense his anger. She quickly found her balance and lifted her hand to his shoulder, trying to give him a reassuring look. He tensed up but did not look in her direction.

When neither of them responded, Eggman continued. “Don’t you like it? I thought we’d get you a better pirate ship for your-”

“Why do you insist on interrupting me?” Metal cut in bitterly.

“Oh come now,” The Doctor continued, “We’re on the same team! You made it this far- don’t let your pride get in the way,” he warned.

As he leaned forward on the bow of the ship, H3 and H4 popped in from the crack in the wall, squeezing their small bodies through the narrow space. Everyone watched silently as they flew crookedly toward Metal. They were scuffed and scratched, one of H4’s arms missing as the socket sparked out weakly. They landed on either side of Metal, clinking their hands to their heads weakly. “Yeesh, what happened to them?” Eggman asked with a grimace.

Clearing her throat, Amy cut in. “Look, I know you wanna help, but we have this under control. So please leave before someone gets hurt!”

“What?” he chortled. “Do you still believe Metal wants to be, what was it- ‘organic’? Ha!”

“Be quiet!” Metal spat back, his voice cutting into a dissonant metallic ring. Amy drew back her hand as she recoiled from the harsh noise.

“ Oh ,” Eggman snickered at the realization that Metal was trying to protect the girl. “Very interesting! But no need to keep up the charade, just grab her along with the mirror so we can get out of here.”

Looking between Eggman and Metal, Amy took several steps away from the robot. “He’s not lying, is he...?”

Metal stared back at her blankly. She would never help him now- his self-reliant plan had no hope of succeeding. If only he hadn’t hesitated…

“Well, hasn’t this been cute?” Eggman cackled cruelly at her fear before addressing his creation once more. Lowering his brow, The Doctor’s demeanor quickly became more serious and authoritative. “Metal, you need me in order to complete your objective. Time for action!”

He was right. Finishing the mission the way Metal had envisioned was out of reach, and Amy would never trust him again. All that was left to do was complete his objective. “It will be easier if you surrender,” he threatened her, narrowing his vision.

“ Of course you were lying.” There was bitterness in Amy’s voice as they glared at one another. She was trapped and outnumbered, but she wasn’t one to go without a fight, and he knew that. She took her gaze around the room frantically, surveying her surroundings. Just as she was deciding her next move, Amy spotted something red in the corner of her eye. She quickly shot her glare back at Metal Sonic, inching away from him.

Knuckles had slipped in through a crack in the stone, quietly scaling the wall near Eggman’s ship. Amy also spotted Rouge and Tails hidden in the ship’s shadow by the cave floor. Rouge brought a finger to her lips as Amy saw her. She knew that Metal would sense her friends if she didn’t keep his attention, so she kept talking. “Why’d you teach me how to fight if you just wanted me to surrender?”

“If you think you will best me in a real fight, you are mistaken. Give up before you get hurt.”

“Hmph! You were gonna kill me anyway- or were you just gonna let the curse do the work?”

The question lacked an answer. For however determined Metal was to get ahead of Sonic, he didn’t want to have to do it at Amy’s expense... Yet there was no calculable scenario in which he would defeat his rival where she wouldn’t intervene. There was no choice but to destroy her, too- whatever he did would only delay the inevitable. “Does it matter?” He took an imposing step toward her.

Amy reached the end of the long casket, turning the corner and putting it between them so Metal faced away from Eggman- and her team. She knew it wouldn’t hold him for long. “So I guess wanting to be friends was a lie, too…” There was genuine lament in her tone, her eyes squinting back sorrowfully. Amy couldn’t believe she’d let herself become attached to Metal- and in such a short amount of time. Whatever connection she’d felt was as good as severed now.

Metal stopped his advance, standing across from her. “...I never said that.”

“You sounded pretty eager to ‘spend time together,’” she quoted him.

“I…”

A loud ZAP was heard behind Metal. He quickly whipped around to find Knuckles falling to the ground before Rouge swooped in to catch him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t put up a barrier? Come now!” The Doctor laughed as he pulled out a small remote and the invisible barrier flashed around the ship. He pressed a button that sent at least a dozen sword-wielding badniks jumping off the deck and after Tails, Knuckles, and Rouge.

In the confusion, Amy jumped up to snatch the entirety of the stone box from atop the casket. Upon pulling down the heavy container, an ivory switch came up from the casket with a distinct CLICK . The cavern immediately began to rumble, Amy attempting to circumvent the treasure-topped platform and run back toward the direction of the ship in all the chaos.

Realizing this, Metal addressed his minions. “You two block her- the box is mine .”

Amy ran, struggling to keep her balance on the shifting cavern floor. Metal quickly propelled himself after her, reaching out with a clawed hand. Thinking fast, Amy tossed the solid stone lid back at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “Augh!” he groaned as he was knocked off route. As his henchmen closed in ahead of her with arms extended, Amy charged directly at them. Just as they reached out to stop her, Amy hit the ground and slipped between them, scraping against the hard floor. H3 and H4 collided with their arms entangled as she hurried to dust herself off and continue forward.

The cave trembled as the single thin stream of magma at the far wall thickened, now forming a pool on the cavern floor as its exit overflowed. A crack near the chamber entrance also burst open, sending boiling lava spewing over the door from which they had entered. Amy pushed forward through the surrounding heat, lugging the heavy weight toward the direction of her friends- and the oncoming battalion of badniks.

But Metal was quickly upon her again, his eyes blazing with the left flickering wildly front the blow to the head. Knowing he wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice, Amy instinctively ducked as he approached her. The hefty container slid in front of her and Metal lunged for it, snatching it off the ground to remove the artifact he’d been after- But there was nothing inside except dust.

Peering back at Amy, Metal found its rocky handle in her grasp. She had picked up the Stone Mirror- a simple rounded hand mirror with a handgrip and no discernible features other than its distinctive lack of any actual reflective surface. Amy was turning it back and forth in her hands, wondering if this was really what they’d been looking for. It resembled a hand mirror in shape alone, failing to function as an actual looking glass.

Ahead of them, Amy’s friends were already taking on a troupe of robots. After giving one a swift punch to the head that knocked it clean off its body, Knuckles caught sight of Amy- and the Stone Mirror. “Amy- don’t let him get his hands on it! Destroy it!” he called back, just dodging a swing from another badnik.

Hearing this, Metal tossed the useless box aside and flung himself at Amy once more, drawing his sword. As he brought his weapon down over her, Amy held up the mirror at both ends, blocking his attack with its handle. His sword made contact, but bounced off as he hesitated at the last second. Drawing her own sword, Amy pointed it at him sharply. “I’m not going down so easy!” She lunged at him, managing to push to the side as she changed direction toward the pooling magma at the other end of the chamber.

“H3 and H4, corner her!” Metal commanded. The henchmen had just managed to detangle their limbs. H4 launched himself forward at her while H3 came up on the other side.

The heat thickened as she approached the impossibly hot lava, panting and sweating, struggling to run ahead. Metal Sonic was faster than her and closed in quickly behind. Amy could already see H3 and H4 cornering her into the far wall. Rather than wait to be trapped, Amy swung her arm and pitched the mirror fiercely toward the magma. H4, however, threw out his remaining arm, catching it before it made contact with the boiling pool. “Take it back to The Doctor,” Metal instructed him.

“Crap!” Amy cursed. She spun around and pointed, calling out to her friends. “He’s got the mirror!”

Unfortunately for the little robot, the damage he’d sustained made it impossible to fly straight, and he struggled to avoid obstacles. This made it easy for Tails to fly by, grabbing the Stone Mirror to try and pry it out of H4’s tightly clamped claws. Not having another arm to entangle the boy with, H4 swung the coil around wildly, trying to throw Tails off like a mechanical bull. Seeing this, Metal ordered H3 to help his brother and the minion quickly wobbled off.

Eggman watched in frustration as it all unfolded, most of the robots lying in a heap of scrap at the base of his ship. “This is getting boring,” he yawned, and he flipped another button on his remote that sent out another wave of badniks. “I’ve had enough of this; go after the girl! Make it quick.” He wanted to draw the others away from the ship for a quick getaway once the mirror was secured.

Knuckles groaned in annoyance at the new wave of badniks. “I’ll deal with them- help Tails grab the mirror,” he yelled to Rouge through fierce swings of his fists. She nodded and shot herself toward the battling minions.

Meanwhile, Amy was cornered- Metal Sonic ahead of her while searing magma pooled behind her. “Surrender!” Metal commanded, pointing a steely claw at her while he held his sword down by his side.

“Never!” She had no choice but to get out of the way as lava threatened to melt her boots clean off, so she lunged at Metal Sonic with her sword, putting her full force into the attack. His stance quickly changed and he blocked her attack with his sword.

Metal attempted to counter, but Amy kept after him, swinging at him so furiously that he couldn’t get an attack in. “You lied to me!” she screamed out, her eyes brimming with fury.

“Argh- I did what I had to!” he spat back, holding his weapon against hers.

She gripped her sword fiercely with both hands, pushing against him. Angry tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I thought we had something!” she wailed. Metal’s guilt bubbled to the surface and he faltered momentarily, giving Amy a chance to push his weapon away and plunge toward him. Metal lost his grip and the sword clattered to the ground away from him.

Amy’s lunge would have impaled him through the chest if it wasn’t for the interference of one of Eggman’s badniks. The robot cut ahead of Metal, blocking her swing. As Knuckles struggled to keep them all back, four more of the rotund bots arrived, surrounding Amy and Metal. She brandished the weapon in front of her frantically, pointing it from badnik to badnik. “Rouge,” she called, “Use the sword!”

Metal’s sword had landed just below where she and Tails struggled against H3 and H4. She kicked H3 aside and shot down, seizing the sharp weapon from the cavern floor. “Tails- move!” she warned. The boy quickly propelled himself away as he saw her aiming the sword at H4’s remaining arm. Rouge flung it at the robot, slicing his hand off at the wrist, sending his clamp-like fingers falling to the ground with the Stone Mirror still in its clutches. “Hold them off!” Rouge caught it mid-flight, clamp and all, and got moving in Amy’s direction with the intention of tossing the artifact in the magma and picking her up on the way back.

“Metal,” Eggman howled from a speaker, “Stop that flying rat and retreat with the mirror at once!”

Giving her a final glare, Metal lifted off the ground. “I wish you’d given up,” he told Amy before thrusting straight up to intercept Rouge.

“Why do you care?!” Amy‘s chest heaved, her weak hand wiping the sweat from her brow as the group of badniks slowly pushed her closer and closer to the bubbling magma behind her.

Rouge wasn’t fast enough to dodge Metal Sonic. All she could do to keep the mirror out of his clutches was to hurl it in the direction of the lava pit just before he made contact with her, sending her plummeting to the cave floor- without the Stone Mirror in hand.

As if slowing time, Metal shot his gaze toward the mirror as it fell. His systems worked at lightning speed to determine its velocity and the likelihood that he could catch it before it was destroyed. Metal was tough, but not indestructible- he wouldn’t survive a plunge into the magma. But it was when he was calculating the possible outcome, already drilling his body through the air and down toward the sizzling pool, that he spotted Amy Rose cornered by badniks against boiling magma, mere feet from being pushed into it.

Suddenly, there was a second option to his trajectory. It was her or the Stone Mirror. Save Amy Rose, or be closer than he’s ever been to fulfilling the very objective to his existence. Why was it a question? So much as considering her over his purpose went against his plan, the very core of his programming; And yet, he had already decided the moment he saw her in mortal danger. Before he could comprehend why, Metal had already shifted his flight path.

Amy was panting and swaying, dizzy from the intoxicating heat of the cave. Her vision was blurry and wet with tears as she fought off the attacks from several opponents at once. If they didn’t end her, the magma would. One of the badniks lunged at her while she parried another and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to dodge in time. Just as Amy thought she would have to say a final prayer, Metal Sonic landed between her and the robot, arms outstretched to form a barrier between them.

The sword-wielding badnik stabbed its weapon forward with no time to stop before the sharp end impaled Metal through the chest. The sword cut into his turbine, causing sparks to fly out as the engine sputtered. He heard the devastating sound of the Stone Mirror falling into the magma next to them, watching it sizzle from the corner of his eye as it sunk in. There went everything he had worked towards- yet this regret was so much less than the remorse he’d felt betraying Amy.

“Metal!” Amy gasped.

“You scrap-heap!” Eggman shrieked at the badnik whose sword was stuck in Metal Sonic’s engine. “When I’m through with you-”

There was no time to finish the statement. Glowing-hot lava began to burst from cracks in all the interior walls as the cavern quaked. Gravel fell from the ceiling as the space began caving in. “Retreat at once!”

All of Eggman’s remaining robots dropped what they were doing to run, leaving Knuckles free. He spotted Rouge crawling across the ground and Tails kicking H3 away from him a final time. Knuckles ran to Rouge, supporting her as she stood. “Where’s Amy?” he asked frantically as they struggled to stay upright on the unsteady ground.

Rouge turned her head back as Tails joined them. “Oh, no…”

Metal gripped the hilt of the sword that stuck out from his chest and quickly drew it out, tossing it to the side. The increased lava flow had left them completely surrounded on a precarious island that would soon be inundated. In her surprise, Amy shook the daze from her head. The tears that had welled in her eyes overflowed as she looked up at him in shock. “You- You came back!”

“I am as surprised as you,” he said, drawing her close to him as the boiling magma rose around them. “Hold on.” Metal lifted them off the ground, faltering as he did. His engine stalled, causing him to hover up and down unexpectedly until they finally passed the pooling lava, crashing onto the cavern floor. They were past the immediate danger, but Metal could no longer fly. As Amy stood, he found that his legs had given out as well- only enough power left to operate his upper body. He ordered his minions over hurriedly. “H3, H4, I need you here.”

The little robots did their best to fly over, dodging falling pieces of the stone ceiling. Metal was taken aback by their appearance. “H4? Where’s the rest of you?” The minion shrugged with what was left of his right arm, only the long coil hanging down from its socket. Realization set in for Metal. He looked back at Amy’s panicked face. “H3 cannot carry me alone. I will have to stay. You go with him-”

“No!” Amy shook her head furiously. “You can’t!”

“My weight exceeds his capacity-” Metal tried to explain.

“Don’t be stupid!” She grabbed hold of one of Metal’s arms, dragging him across the floor at a surprising pace.

Her strength was impressive, but they would never make it out before the chamber caved in at this rate. “We are too slow! Just leave!”

“I won’t!” Amy struggled. “H3, a little help would be nice!”

He and Metal exchanged glances for a moment. Metal quickly realized the stubborn girl wouldn’t be leaving him behind. “Well, help her!” he commanded.

H3 obeyed, swiftly grabbing his master by the other arm and dragging him along. They moved at a running pace now, nearing the half-collapsed wall from which Eggman had crashed his ship.

“Amy, what are you doing?!” Knuckles called out. He’d handed Rouge over to Tails to fly out with and now ran alongside her and Metal.

“Just shut up and run!”

As they all neared the threshold and The Doctor caught sight of Metal Sonic, his ship began to back out from the wall. “Hurry!” he yelled at them as it floated back.

The ceiling was falling down behind them, burying the chamber and all its treasure under mounds of solid stone and liquid earth. The entire cavern was seconds from collapsing. Tails was the first out with Rouge in his grasp while H4 and Knuckles followed closely behind. Finally, Amy and H3 dragged Metal past the cave’s external wall as the entirety of the cavern came down behind them. Stones boomed, pounding to the floor in the direction they’d come from. The crashing stone wall rattled and broke the ground outside, lurching everyone forward and away from the entrance with a gust of wind.

It was a rough landing, but the side of the volcano they’d come out from faced the sandy beach. Knuckles groaned, spitting sand out of his mouth after landing face first. Tails came down, landing softly beside him with Rouge. He set her down on the beach and collapsed onto the soft ground, exhausted. Eggman’s steel ship floated above them as he hung over the rails looking relieved. Metal’s henchmen floated about for a moment before a faint beeping drew them away into the palm tree thicket nearby.

Amy couldn’t bring herself to sit up. She lay in the sand, sweating and heart pounding, staring straight up at the night sky as the adrenaline subsided. Metal’s half-functioning body was strewn beside her face-down. He pushed himself from the sand, flipping over to look straight up. Metal fondled the ground desperately, leaving drag marks in the sand with his sharp claws until Amy’s hand happened upon his, locking their fingers together. He relaxed, relieved to still have her by his side. It was the least he could hope for after giving up his plan to save her, he told himself- but he knew it must have been more than that. They sat in silence for just a few moments.

“... It does look a bit like a swan,” he muttered, staring into the starry sky. Cygnus was in full view over the island.

Amy couldn’t keep from snickering as he spoke, noticing the constellation suspended above them. “Guess you didn’t need to be organic to see it after all- ow! Laughing hurts...”

“Seeing as I am still mechanical, I’m afraid I cannot relate…”

She burst out in laughter, holding her ribs with her free hand. Amy’s shoulders bounced, highlighting the dull soreness in her arms from having dragged Metal’s heavy body across the collapsing cavern. “Don’t start-” she giggled. It always seemed to amuse her when he made those snide remarks.

Some yards away, Rouge sat up, holding the back of her head. “There goes my treasure… Is everyone alright?”

Tails flashed a lazy thumbs-up as Knuckles stretched beside her. “I’ll live,” he remarked gruffly. “What could those two be laughing about…?”

“Who knows?” she grumbled. “A bit cheery for a pair who just cost me my treasure.”

Quick footsteps were heard from the far side of the beach. Rouge’s crew and a set of cameramen were hastily running to meet with her. She sighed. “Back to work, I suppose.” As they stumbled near, Knuckles came to his feet and gave her a hand up. Tails dusted himself off groggily and joined them. The trio were surrounded by sailors and cameras soon enough as Rouge immediately began giving orders, playing up the authoritative remarks for the cameras.

Down the beach, Metal’s minion’s floated near him, H3 holding H1’s sparking body in his arms. Metal pushed himself to sit up, looking at the dismembered robot with remorse. “Perhaps I was a bit harsh…” He took hold of H1 as the metallic husk beeped intermittently and automatically, not appearing to be active.

Pulling herself into a sitting position, Amy groaned. “Is he gonna be okay?” she motioned to H1.

“Yes… I can repair them all. We will be fine.”

Eggman hovered down in his floating Eggmobile, coming to a landing and jumping out to address his creations. “Metal! What happened out there? Is your turbine functional?”

Metal glared at The Doctor for a moment. The lights in his left eye flickered weakly every time he moved his head. He believed he should have been furious, but he had neither the energy nor any strong feelings against his master in that moment. “No,” he responded simply.

“You sure did a number on him,” Eggman said, referring to H1 as Metal held him. “Well, we’ll get ‘em next time… Here, charge up so we can go.” A battery pack was quickly hooked up to Metal’s back, steadily providing his body with the power to operate his legs. Amy watched fondly as Eggman doted over him, a sly smile appearing on her face. The Doctor noticed her peering. “What are you looking at, you pest? You should consider yourself lucky to be alive-”

“That is enough,” Metal said plainly. “Give me a minute…”

“... Fine,” Eggman relented. “I‘ll make preparations to ‘set sail,’” he snickered, getting back into his hovercraft and floating away to the flying ship.

H3 and H4 sat in the sand by Amy and Metal, patiently waiting for him to regain his energy. As The Doctor’s attention turned away from him, Metal pulled the charging cable out from his back and connected it to H1’s body. The narrow strip of light that formed his visor powered on as Metal held him in front of his chest.

“You are quite the little spy…” Metal stared at H1 as he activated, the small robot bobbing his head around as if nervous. “... Very good work. I shall keep you around.” H1 stopped his frantic movement, tensing up for a moment before relaxing. Amy giggled as Metal set him down in the sand between them, reaching out and straightening the bandana around his neck. Metal turned to face her so their eyes met. “Thank you for bringing me with you. I am not sure my body could have been recovered from all the rubble.”

She was beaming warmly. “Well, you didn’t let me die in the end, so…” she gestured vaguely. “Call it even for now.” Amy winked.

“Hm. For what it’s worth, I was not going to permit you to sacrifice yourself. Though I cannot comprehend why…”

“Oh thanks,” Amy snickered through her sarcastic response. “Well, even though you lied… I think I believe you,” she shrugged.

Metal never felt like he needed to justify or excuse anything that he’d done in the past; He only ever did what he had to in the name of completing his objective. And though he resented losing this opportunity, the guilt he felt from lying was somehow much stronger. “Yes, well- I have never apologized for anything in my entire existence, but… I do regret that. I am sorry.”

“Really?” She ran a finger through the sand, leaving faint lines. “Ah, at least I got a sword lesson out of it ...I’ll think about forgiving you,” she responded with a coy smile. Metal Sonic was a bit of a mystery, but she could sense that he was apologetic in saving her and as he reactivated H1. She felt it was genuine, though she promised herself to keep him on his toes if they ever say one another again. “Anyway, don’t you need to charge, too?” she asked.

“There is enough for us both. In any case, I can spend a bit more time with you this way.”

She grinned playfully. “Yeah, too bad we’re in no shape for a dance lesson.”

“I suppose not... Perhaps next week, then.” He forced it out indifferently, but there was hope in his response.

It was unclear whether he was just teasing her. Amy flushed suddenly, turning her gaze away. Nothing could have been stranger than feeling this fondly toward Metal after the emotional roller coaster of the last several days, but the idea of being that close again didn’t sound so bad to her now. Only time would tell how the unusual new friendship would play out from opposite sides, but Amy was more than willing to find out. “Yeah, I guess that’ll work,” she responded finally, smiling back up at him. She couldn’t help but think that he’d be grinning back if he could.

-----

“ The treasure has been… compromised, ” Rouge explained. Footage of her on a beach played on a small hand-held tablet. She was wearing a scuffed-up navy suit but stood with confidence and authority. “ There were some… complications. It may be too dangerous to excavate. ”

B-roll of the surrounding area played as a news anchor reported the story. A dark, tropical beach with a mountain at its center. A pile of rubble surrounded by crew members as Tails pointed at and discussed various spots. Rouge storming off the beach as Knuckles followed after her angrily.

Sonic watched the morning news in awe. He’d been lounging groggily near the Master Emerald when he sat up at the appearance of his friends.

“ … and perhaps most strangely of all, the missing historical ship, the Royal Fortune, was found drifting just offshore. She appears to have sustained some damage over the week or so since she went missing. Her disappearance seems to be related to the notorious Dr. Eggman. ” As an announcer spoke, the recording showed a short clip of Metal Sonic and Amy chatting at the bow of the now-anchored ship, her leaning over a railing nonchalantly and giggling while he stood in a stately manner, his gaze fixed on her. Amy then ducked out of the shot when she spotted the camera. Metal Sonic turned to face it directly, glaring with his left eye flickering eerily. The shot quickly panned away.

“Is that…?” Sonic’s jaw dropped as he watched the clip, unable to fathom just what kind of adventure they’d ended up on. Seeing Amy lounging around with Metal Sonic on a stolen vessel was by the far the strangest, but everyone appeared to be safe and would likely be returning soon, so there was no need to worry. “Heh, can’t wait to hear about this.” Sonic went back to his leisurely position as the story ended, grinning over the unexpected footage of his friends and eagerly waiting to hear about all the fun his team was having without him. Still, he doubted it would be enough to get him tagging along on the next seafaring adventure.

-----

wow so that ended up being like twice as long as intended~ i hope yall enjoyed it. meant to have it up earlier but. that’s life.

this is of course part 2 to what i was working on for @metamy-ship-week​

a very very very special thank you to @mmm-asbestos​ for inspiring this fic and brainstorming the story with me. i am incredibly thankful to have worked on something with someone who inspires me so much ❤ i had a great time

happy new year friends~ i hope 2021 treats you all with kindness.

[kisskissbanggang]

Hello Stranger

[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]

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You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers. 

“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”

Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with. 

“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”

“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”

“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”

“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”

You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now. 

“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated. 

“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office. 

“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. 

“How many more calls this week?”

“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk. 

You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression. 

Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since. 

So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting. 

Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of. 

You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”

“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”

You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation. 

The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school? 

Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students. 

Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”

Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”

Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”

As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them. 

You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites. 

The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked. 

Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous. 

Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters. 

The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them. 

A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office. 

You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”

It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed. 

“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”

“Mr. Bang, I—“

“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head. 

“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“

Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“

“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”

Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”

“What?” You asked, surprised. 

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”

“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely. 

“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”

You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off. 

“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest. 

“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down. 

“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office. 

Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation. 

“Stand up,” she simply directed Chris. 

He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly. 

Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“

“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”

“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”

“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue. 

“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”

“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”

“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”

“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief. 

Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”

Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”

Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake. 

“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”

“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”

“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled. 

“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”

Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”

“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”

“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket. 

“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning. 

“John called from his cell.” 

You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school. 

God dammit. 

You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit. 

The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall. 

“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”

Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment. 

“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away. 

“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip. 

“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you. 

“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“

“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”

“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you. 

“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”

Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?” 

Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time. 

“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”

You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast. 

“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”

Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him. 

Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?” 

You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”

“Never,” he adamantly shook his head. 

“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away. 

“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was. 

“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway. 

“I didn’t mean you!”

You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”

Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”

Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably. 

“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined. 

“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”

“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently. 

“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him. 

“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”

“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.

“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”

“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”

“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms. 

“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait. 

“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”

“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed. 

“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst. 

“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted. 

“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him. 

However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment. 

“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”

Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”

Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—

Oh. 

Hello, stranger. 

Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder. 

You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.

“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”

Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”

“We don’t?”

“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”

“We kissed?”

Ouch. 

You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”

“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”

“I know,” you commiserated. 

“What do we do now?” 

“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”

“How are we doing that?”

“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”

“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”

You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”

Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”

“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”

“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”

“You alright?”

“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter. 

“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly. 

“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split. 

“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.

“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you. 

“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands. 

“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”

“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”

“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”

“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”

“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”

“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”

“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”

“You bought a house?!”

Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”

“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”

“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously. 

“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive. 

“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”

Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”

“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”

“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”

“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”

Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”

“They will,” you impatiently assured him. 

“Even Doyoung?”

“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle. 

“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning. 

“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”

“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”

“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”

Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall. 

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”

You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws. 

So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday. 

A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open. 

Hello Stranger,

1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong. 

2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you. 

A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.

“What do people think of me?” 

Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that. 

Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”

All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”

A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”

“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you. 

>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday. 

There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already. 

“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway. 

“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in. 

“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk. 

“Are these—?”

“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”

“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”

“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.

“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”

Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”

“About what?”

“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”

A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”

“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up. 

“I feel good today.”

“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”

A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny. 

>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.

But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”

You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back. 

The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”

“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward. 

“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”

“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”

“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”

A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”

You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“

“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”

“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”

At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“

“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked. 

You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?” 

Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door. 

You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up. 

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom. 

“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“

Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”

“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door. 

“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to—“

“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled. 

He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you. 

“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong. 

“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”

He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”

“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds. 

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”

“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”

Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.” 

Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out. 

“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk. 

“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused. 

“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”

“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”

“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“

“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question. 

“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”

“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”

“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation. 

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless. 

“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”

“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice. 

“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.

“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm. 

The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.

So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap. 

It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—

Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow. 

“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.

“Hey—“ 

Doyoung?

“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”

“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”

“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied. 

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”

“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“

“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“

“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”

“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand. 

“Oh, one more thing—“

Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”

“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”

“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”

“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”

Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten? 

“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”

The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression.  “What? Is everything alright?”

“You want this to be serious?”

Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”

“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”

He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”

“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.” 

It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?” 

“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”

Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”

[fritae]

The Missing Piece:

Chapter 2 - Frustration

Gang leader! AU / Corporate! AU

Characters: Dabi x F/OC

Status: Ongoing

a/n: hey guys! so I'm playing with this idea and I'm not sure if I'm conveying it properly, but I hope you enjoy regardless! this story's really fun to write and I'm excited for what's to come! I'd really appreciate any feedback 🖤 thanks!

---

"Call Mr. Tobiro, tell him we're airing a new program next month" Mr. Lane tells me as we hurry through the halls.

I get confused. Didn't we resolve all this new program talk last week? I know the ratings still bother Mr. Lane, but enough to go against the board?"

"Sir, is this-"

"No. I'm not replacing any of the current shows. It'll be during the special programming slot on Saturday," He scowls. "A 2 hour special documentary about the Todoroki corp's amazing work these past few years. You know how popular the company is."

Something about this makes me uneasy. Why would he decide this out of nowhere?

His commands jolt me back to reality. "Make sure he adjusts the schedule and starts airing commercials. I want huge ratings, Ms. Aiko. We don't spend all this money to have another company show us up."

An intern quickly hands me Mr. Lane's morning coffee. I mouth a thank you and follow him to his office.

I place the coffee on his desk as he shouts on. I spot another employee carrying files for Mr. Lane. Her hands shake, as if she's trying to decide whether or not to drop them off now. We lock eyes through the glass and I decide for her.

Not now, I shake my head from behind Mr. Lane. Her eyes widen and she nods before quickly hurrying off.

"Are you listening to me, Ms. Aoki?

"Yes sir. I'll call Mr. Tobiro right away."

I keep a straight face as he shouts for the delay. As soon as I find an opening, I go out to call our corporate lawyer.

---

During lunch break, I head down to the cafeteria. I smile when I spot Aliyah and the crew. We tried to sync our lunch breaks to ensure we had some time together during the day (though we at times have to work through our breaks). It makes work feel less lonely.

"Rina!" She exclaims when I grab the seat beside her.

"We finally have some time together," I laugh before hugging her.

"Those bastards work you like a dog," She grumbles.

"You too," I pick at my salad. "Your hours are worse than mine."

"Yeah but I don't have the boss barking orders at me every second of the day. Rina's the real champ here, guys." She tells the table. The others clap at that, and we all share a laugh through mouths full of food.

As a couple executives make their way past our table, we stand up and smile at them in respect. But watching our smiles fall as soon as they walked away made me feel bitter.

"I hate how they treat us like trash and we still have to smile and kiss up to them." I whisper.

Al nods immediately. "But it's whatever. The more you kiss up, the better they'll pay you."

I don't respond to that.

Instead, I think back to the stranger I met last night.

Then what you want isn't money. You want more. He told me.

But the amount they pay us should be enough that we take whatever they throw at us.

Right? I mean, this is why everyone dreams of working here.

"Oh, by the way did you guys hear?" Aliyah suddenly whispers. "You know that multibillion dollar company uptown? Todoroki Inc.?"

"The one with all those charity projects?"

Todoroki Inc. was a big name in the industry. Their extreme success is known worldwide - but they're really known for their philanthropic branch: including building orphanages for the poor, handing out 6 figure donations, and the famous Boku no Hero Academia - where they train leaders in every industry to become tomorrow's changemakers, or as they call it "heroes."

Aliyah voice gets lower, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Except turns out Mr. Todoroki has been caught up in major lawsuits these past few months."

I frown. "For what?"

"Apparently there's been several child abuse cases at the orphanages he sponsors."

All around the table, our mouths drops. Usually lunchtime gossip involves the newest couples or breakups of the day. But this...

This has severe implications.

I'm not surprised that Al knows this. She interacts most directly with our guests and stars meaning she's in on a lot of industry gossip. But still...a major lawsuit like this?

"Is this real or is it one of your rumors?" Someone asks her suspiciously.

"It's as real as you or me! I saw videos . Trust me. There's plenty of people with beef against the company. Big boss Todoroki spent heavy money to keep it all hush-hush. But word travels quickly." She leans back in her seat with a smug look on her face. "We'll see how much power Enji really has by how quietly this unfolds."

"That's disgusting." I push my salad away, my appetite gone. "He can't get away with something like that. Where's the accountability?"

"There is no accountability, sweetheart. That's the way it works. You got money and power, you can get yourself out of anything. Besides, Enji has a reputation. He's got supporters everywhere, people see him as a hero because of all these charity projects."

"But they don't know what's happening in those projects!"

Suddenly, I remember something.

The special program!

I have to tell Mr. Lane. If this is really what's happening, we can't air something like this. It'll give people a false image of what the company stands for. Charity projects that have no proper supervision and that serve as places of abuse should never be celebrated.

"I- I have to go. I'll see you later Al, good luck with your schedule today!"

"But-"

"Sorry, I just remembered something I have to do."

I can't let her know about the program just yet. If I'm lucky, it hasn't been formalized into our official programming. I need to get to Mr. Lane before it does...

---

"Mr. Lane!" I barge into his office.

My boss looks up from his desk, slightly concerned at the look on my face. I slow down to catch my breath.

"Sir, about the Todoroki programming you want to set up. We need to cancel it sir, there's- there's a huge lawsuit going on. The orphanages - the kids are being mistreated sir, please-"

Mr. Lane leans back in his seat.

"Ms. Aoki, relax. That's not your concern. The deal is done."

"Sir...this will give a false image of Mr. Todoroki and his company."

"It's not a false image, it's an alternate image. That's what this whole industry is about. Mr. Todoroki is not responsible for what his managers do. And unless you're speaking with legal authority, I suggest you end this conversation now, Ms. Aoki."

"But sir! A program like this will give people cause to celebrate Todoroki Inc., rather than properly probe into these issues. What about the kids? The victims? Sir, please- this is about more than just-"

"This conversation is over, Ms. Aoki."

I try to think of another argument quickly. What else, what else. What could this nimrod possibly care about.

"But sir!" I say quickly. "If this blows up and becomes public knowledge, what will the people say about our company? It'll be bad for our name, we'll lose the respect we have in the industry, don't you think?"

Mr. Lane lets out a deep sigh. "Ms. Aoki, I know you're smarter than this. If the lawsuits go public..." I get worried by the excitement thrumming behind his eyes. "More people will tune in to watch the program. Everyone will be eager to see the other side. If we play our cards right the ratings will be-"

I scoff.

Mr. Lane stops speaking. The sudden ice in his eyes makes my bones go cold, but for once, I can't back down.

"The ratings?" I almost laugh. "Sir, I'm telling you there's kids being abused due to this man's lack of accountability, and you want to use that for profit? What about the truth? What about justice!"

"To hell with truth and to hell with justice!" He slams his fist. Mr. Lane gets up to tower over me. "I make the decisions here, Ms. Aoki. Your job isn't to advise me or to babble on about bullshit like the truth. This is a broadcasting company, and your job is to maximize profits - that's it! Got it?"

I feel my face grow hot.

"You've been running on thin ice for a while now, Ms. Aoki," His voice gets dangerously low.

I bite my tongue.

"I can assure you that no other company would give you the benefits package we've given you. It seems we've spoiled you, haven't we? That's why you're comfortable running your mouth like this."

"Sir, I-"

"I'll see to it that your salary is adjusted appropriately until you learn your lesson. And I warn you," He says through clenched teeth. "I see any of this behavior again, you'll be asking for much more than a salary reduction, Ms. Aoki. Got it?"

-----

Emotions I didn't know I could feel bubble within me. Hatred and rage boil deep in my core. But what can I do? What can I do.

I look from left to right. Trying to find something, anything to throw. Anything to take my anger out on. But when I find nothing, I hurry to the edge of Du Monde's roof. My chest heaves with the weight of my anger.

And as I overlook all of Midtown, and the entire city seems to be under me, I scream.

I scream and then I scream again.

I let out every trapped word that's been aching to escape.

All the swear words stuck to the back of my throat for years.

I release it all into the sky, knowing the wind will carry it for miles.

"Fuck you Mr. Lane!" I screech. "You no good fucking bald-headed, stout faced little piece of-"

"Woah!" I hear someone say.

Suddenly, a pair of arms pulls me back by the waist, as if to restrain me.

Of course, this does nothing but infuriate me more.

"Who the fuck- let me go! Let me go before I fucking rip every single finger off your hands and shove them-"

"Easy!" The voice says again, before releasing me on the ground. "Don't stand so close to the edge, idiot. You could fall."

"If I fucking fall, I want everyone to know it's Mr. Lane's fault! Fucking sue NNTV and put the Court verdict over my fucking grave so I know-"

"Hey! Look at me." The headless voice says. "No one's fucking fall-" He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Listen. I need you to calm down."

I scoff. Calm down? Is he telling me to calm down? With clenched teeth, I turn around. Ready to throw all my fury at this intruder. "Who the hell do you think you are? Don't you dare tell me to calm-"

My mouth drops when I lock eyes with the slightly concerned stranger.

With those electrifying blue orbs.

No.

This isn't a stranger.

Not a total stranger at least.

The man I bought coffee for last week at Du Monde stares back at me.

"...down."

A smile plays on his lips. "Hey. So you remember me."

"What..." I let out an annoyed breath, though it's not as angry as it was a moment ago. "...are you doing here?"

A toothpick sticks out of the corner of his mouth. He pulls it out as he ponders over my question. "Well, I was doing business. And then you decided to let all of New York know you were crazy."

I scoff. "You haven't seen crazy." I mumble.

"You got quite the mouth on ya," He smirks. "A little loud..." He tilts his head, as if considering again. "But you're honest."

I cross my arms and look toward the skyline, ignoring the people cautiously watching us from the other side of the glass. They can whisper to themselves about how crazy I am. This is New York. No one will remember this by tomorrow.

"Thanks. Now if you don't mind, I have other crazy things to do. And don't you have a business to run? People to be an ass to?"

The man tilts his head, as though slightly disappointed. But his lips remain curled. "Now come on. I've been hoping to run into you and you want to leave so soon?"

I frown. "Why would you want to run into me? You aren't a creep, are you?" I ask suspiciously.

"Creep?" He shoots me a pointed look. "There you go making a guy regret being nice," He tsks. "I was hoping to pay you back for the coffee."

He still remembers that?

"You know what," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Normally I'd say no need. But considering I'm probably gonna be jobless soon, I might just take you up on that."

"Well then," He stands up and offers me a hand. "I don't know how much crazy you still got left in ya so let's go somewhere a little closer to the ground."

[sleep-i-ness]

Bad Date? (Maria Hill x reader)

Request: YES (at end of oneshot)

Content Warning: Drinking, mentions of cheating

A/N: Here you go hun! I didn’t really know how to write the reader as a tomboy so sorry if it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Oh and one bit was a tiny bit inspired by Two Weeks Notice (with Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock) so if you notice that well done? Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Taglist:  @holybatflapexpert​​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​ @natasha-danvers​ @a-stressedstudent​ (if you would like to be added, please fill out the form in my bio)

A loud knock at the door startled Maria out of her administration haze; she sighed, taking in the heap of strewn sheets. Her usually immaculate desktop was barely visible under the mountain of paperwork that had just been piling up endlessly since her day had started. It was already looking like she might have to stay well past her contractually mandated hours just to clear what she already had. The legal team at Stark Industries had been on the phone with her non-stop, demanding evidence or explanations that were either highly confidential, non-existent or possibly even both. Maria was honestly sick to death of having to clean up both the physical and PR messes of the Avengers.

“Come in.” She was unable to muster any energy into her order, hoping to whatever mighty being out there that it was an agent she could actually stand. Or really just any agent other than Agent Mace. He had been needlessly suffocating, bouncing into her office, whenever he so pleased, to ask a question that really only required the most miniscule amount of brainpower to be answered. It was a miracle he had ever been hired.

Y/N poked her head through the door, an easy smile tilting her lips upwards. Maria returned the infectious grin despite herself, a giddy, light sensation spreading through her chest.

“Oh, good, Agent Y/L/N. These are the mission debriefs that you filed, would you mind taking them down to Agent Coulson?” Maria rifled through the stuffed drawer by her leg and passed her a thick brown file.

Y/N grabbed it, their fingertips brushing lightly and Maria jolted slightly as an electric spark shot up her arm. “Sure, I got it.”

“Now, after you’ve dropped them down, you can start with the files for your next-”

Y/N interrupted her, smiling sheepishly, “Actually, I don’t know how much time I have. That’s what I came here to ask you about. Tony sort of set me up on a date with someone tonight.”

Maria’s heart sank, a sickening heavy feeling, and she wasn’t quite sure why. She shook it off, blaming it on a sudden bout of exhaustion and mustered an enthusiastic grin. Scraping the papers on her desk together, she stapled them together with a satisfying click.

“Great.”

Y/N took that as a dismissal as she backed away, towards the door. “I just have to figure out what to wear. I don't have anything.”

Y/N almost giggled and a wave of nausea rolled over Maria as she swallowed harshly. Y/N looked ready to soar with joy, like an entrapped bird in a cage that she held the key to.

“Have fun.” Maria couldn’t help the bitterness seeping into her words and Y/N’s face contorted, startled for a second, before schooling herself into a more composed expression.

What the hell was that. Maria was astounded as Y/N backed out without another word, a placating smile fixed to her cheeks. She attributed her sudden passive-aggressiveness on an envy of being able to leave work without feeling the immense burden of knowing how much else she had to do. But she’d never had this problem before when it came to her work-life balance.

Maybe she was finally feeling the need to get back into a relationship.

:.

Maria groaned as the clock hand hit seven and she hadn’t seemed to have made a dent int the pile. She’d have to work the night on this lot; she was prepping an incredibly time-pressured, high-stakes mission, so they were sending the team out tomorrow. The window had been made known to them only a couple hours ago, at most.

She wondered if Y/N was having a better night than her. A nice dinner out, good conversation and freely flowing wine. Then, dancing in the arms of her pretty date and maybe getting a kiss goodnight.

No. This was unprofessional. Maria shook her head, blinking hurriedly, as she tried to clear her mind of any distracting thoughts.

Work.

Right…

Eliott Callahan, ex-CIA, presumed deceased after a mission went wrong in 2007. Recently resurfaced with links to the Tribe of Salvation, an organisation that had been previously unknown until ties to the Ten Rings had been revealed. Supposedly owned a scientific reserve in North Carolina which was too heavily guarded to not be hiding anything. Callahan had given them a way in, now they needed to take the place out.

Maria’s eyes watered as she stared at the security schematics and the notes made by top SHIELD security specialists. God, she wished she had Y/N here to give her some advice on it. Y/N’s expertise was in getting into places she shouldn’t be, which is how SHIELD had found her. But Y/N was having fun on a nice date with a nice girl and Maria couldn’t help but admitting that it had brightened her day to see Y/N happy.

The last mission, Lima, had taken a toll on everyone’s mental health, and Maria couldn’t help but blame herself for the failure. Four of their top agents had been taken out and the others, who had barely survived, had still not passed their psych evals. Today had been the first time Y/N had been visibly giddy or enthusiastic about anything since then.

:.

“Hi.”

Maria scooted her chair to face the door; head buried in a document as she muttered the lines to herself as she read. Lifting her head slowly, she blinked owlishly at the figure in the door.

“Y/N?”

Y/N hovered in the doorway, still wearing a very flattering suit that Maria couldn’t help but admire. She offered Maria a small but weary smile, shifting from foot to foot.

“Come in, take a seat, how was it?” Maria wasn’t sure if she were acting enthusiastic enough to believably be realistically overjoyed for Y/N having been on a date, but she was sure she could instead pass as being worn out.

Y/N slumped into the hard-plastic chair, which rolled backwards due to her momentum. Unlacing her shoes, she yanked them off and massaged the soles of her feet. She stretched out her stocking-covered legs, gently rubbing circles into the back of her ankles and calves.

“It was horrendous,” Y/N groaned, tilting her head back in exasperation. “I mean, does Tony know me at all? Coulson made me babysit him for 3 years, he should know me better than to set me up with someone like that.”

“Like that?”

“Oh, God, she was about 20 minutes late and didn’t get off her phone the entire time. When she finally made some conversation, it was all about her ex-boyfriends. Like, not even ex-girlfriends. And she was always texting at the table. How rude is that!” Y/N’s cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes were glazed as she yawned, delicately raising a hand to cover a mouth while she stretched out like a cat. Y/N smiled sleepily at Maria as she curled into the uncomfortable chair.

Maria returned the smile softly, somewhat reassured by Y/N’s vehement complaints. “Sounds awful. No second date then?”

“God no, I’d rather be reassigned to… to the Arctic!” Y/N threw her hands up dramatically, the seat wobbling beneath her.

“That can be arranged.”

Y/N was unimpressed by Maria’s dry tone, bottom lip jutting out as she folded her arms sulkily.

A sudden thought popped into her mind. She brightened abruptly, sitting up again. “As if you’d do that. You wouldn’t survive without me.”

“You wish.” Y/N was cute while tipsy, Maria mused, before jolting at the thought. No, she was her supervisor, she could not be thinking like that.

“So, tell me.” Y/N’s chin was slipping off her hand as she yawned, elbow firmly planted on the desk. “I’ve told you how shit my date was, what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”

Maria paused as she took a mental step back from all the work thoughts accumulating at the back of her head. “Well, back in high school, it wasn’t really a date. At least, I hadn’t thought it was because I’d just come out. To everyone. And I went out for lunch with a friend, a guy named Tyler and he ended up telling me that he could turn me straight again. He also decided to show me the numerous photos of his penis. He had a whole folder on his phone in different lightings and from different angles.”

Y/N had clapped a hand over her mouth, “That’s horrendous, I don’t think I could ever look at someone the same if they did that. Like unsolicited and all that.”

“Yeah, definitely was the final nail in putting me off men.”

Y/N giggled, a pretty sound that Maria couldn’t help but want to hear more of.

“So,” she began, pursing her lips as she tried to think of how to continue.

“So?” Maria laughed

“Yeah, so, tell me. Is there anyone in your life? Anyone special?”

Maria snorted. “No, God no. I haven’t had the time in all honesty; I’m barely on top of my work, never mind sorting out a love life at the same time.”

“I thought… I thought that you were dating Agent Hayes?”

“No, we broke up a while ago over… mutual difference involving work and personal lives becoming too heavily involved.”

“Okay… so that’s what you wrote on the official forms about your break-up. Now, tell me again with feelings. Come on, let’s have a proper deep chat.”

“Hm.” Maria glanced back at the document she’d discarded back onto the pile and groaned. There was clearly a better option of the two. “Fine. I’m sure you are aware of Agent Hayes’ reputation.” Y/N frowned and shook her head. “As a… honey trap. It seems that she was unable to remove that part of her life from our personal lives and decided to… practice on other agents and people in our lives.”

Maria spoke bitterly, expression twisted in a grimace like she had tasted something extremely sour.

“So, basically she’s a cheating bitch.”

“Yeah.” Maria nodded. That summarised her perfectly.

“Well, fuck her, we don’t need shitty women in our lives. Am I right or am I right?” Y/N’s voice rose as she declared her statement triumphantly, sending Maria a quick grin as she pumped a fist in the air.

“Yes, you’re right.” Maria was tentative, unsure whether she wanted to ask the words on the tip of her tongue. “Anyone else in your life?”

“Well,” Y/N took a deep breath, working up the courage to do something momentous. “I did like someone, but I thought they were dating someone, so I let Tony set me up on an absolutely awful blind date.” Her voice lowered to more of a murmur. “But now I found out that the woman I like is single.”

Maria blinked. Could she-? No. Well, there was no point in not trying. “What if the woman liked you back?”

“I’d probably ask if I could kiss her.” Y/N glanced at Maria’s lips, the glaze in her eyes no longer from alcohol.

“I think she’d say yes. She’d be pretty dumb not to.”

Y/N leant in, and Maria’s breath caught in her throat. She had to be dreaming. Their lips met and every thought flew out of her head as she melted into the kiss. Maria pulled away, laughing at Y/N’s pout.

“Wait. Come here.” Maria patted her lap and Y/N eagerly straddled her legs, one hand cupping her chin, the other on the back of her head. “That’s better.”

She kissed her again, an awestruck expression appearing on Y/N’s face as she grinned blissfully. Maria could smell the sweet scent of Y/N’s perfume invading her senses, everything blurring as her mind focused in on the way Y/N seemed to fit perfectly in her arms. Or the hand gripping the hair at the base of her neck as Y/N kept her head in place, the other caressing her cheek.

As they broke apart again, Y/N stayed on Maria’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck.

“I have to finish this work, but you’re welcome to stay and help. It’ll go twice as quickly.”

Y/N pecked her lips. “Deal.”

-

Request:  Maria hill x female, tomboy, reader where Maria hears that tony set the reader up on a date with some girl he knew. Maria can’t stop thinking about it and ends up staying up through the night until r dare is over. Reader comes back after the date and they talk and reader makes fun of how bad the date was. (aren’t in relationship but get together after talking)

[icollectyoursins]

Heyy!! Congrats on making it to 50 followers!! I know it's not much but sooner or later it'll grow big and you'll have tons of mini minions who love and adore you! + your writings too!!

I just want to say that your Caesar blowjob with a twist got me hooked on recreating questionable scenarios while I was folding the clothes and my brain said "How dare this person make me go horny without consent!!" Just kidding, I give my utmost thanks from getting my hormones set off from your writing❤❤

I just recently finished watching SDC and I'm in the big sad from seeing Kakyoin dying while listening to Goodbye Nostalgia before crying because the lyrics hit me so baddd

Would it be alright if I were to request a small scenario that Kakyoin survived the hit? I just want my cherry boy healthy and well dhdhdhdhdhvf

I also love my cherry boy, so yes. You can have that. Now I need to go mop up my tears because this whole thing was so sweet. This may be a little sad, but it gets better. Just... my poor boy, he needs to heal. Honestly, this was a nice break from what I usually write, so thanks for that! Had to hold back lots of happy tears with this one.

Kakyoin is finally released from the hospital after healing from his DIO-induced injuries and he could not be more excited.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: A little bit of sad, but mostly happy reunions! Paraplegic!Kakyoin.

Word Count: 1205

Hope and Recovery

     Kakyoin’s feet dangled over the side of the hospital bed. He looked at them with a sad curiosity, narrowing his eyes and focusing, willing them to move, to feel that tingle, the feeling of stretching them out. But, they wouldn’t. No matter how hard he tried. It was still too soon, according to the doctors. He couldn’t help wanting to be that tiny 1%, that little miracle person. For now, he would have to be okay with a wheelchair seeing as using Hierophant would be a little too odd for people who can’t see stands.

     He sighed, pulling his legs back onto the bed, arranging himself so he was lying down again. He smiled, staring at the bed table near his feet. Various pictures of smiling family, friends and whatever Iggy was feeling in the picture Polnareff took. A chuckle escapes him freely. Iggy had sunglasses on and what looked like a smaller version of what Mr. Joestar would wear on vacation with a small vibrant drink in the lower corner.

     Looking over to the calendar on the wall next to the clock, he checked which day it was. Of course, he knew what day it was, he just needed to keep reminding himself that it was happening. He was going home today. After so many months of healing in the hospital, he was finally allowed to go home. Home to his bed and games and beanbag chair, his dad’s awful jokes and his mum. He missed her the most, he thinks. 53 days travelling and then another 3 months on top of that was too much, to say the least. They’d visit, of course, but nothing compares to waking up to her cooking.

     Kakyoin laughs to himself, thinking of what his father and uncles would say at parties when he was a kid. He really was a mama’s boy and proud of it! He looks at the clock, then back to the calendar for the umpteenth time today, pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. This day was finally here.

     And Avdol was late.

     Funny, the warm-hearted man was usually very punctual. Maybe Mr. Joestar was driving them. He and Avdol had grown close, sharing this room together while they healed. The Speedwagon Foundation had given him robotic hands, like Mr. Joestar, so it was a bit easier for him to heal probably. Meanwhile, Kakyoin chose to keep his legs. When he woke up, they had told him that there was a small chance that he would be able to walk with his own legs again and, by God, he was going to take it. Even if it didn’t work, he was sure they’d come up with some way to help him.

     All of the sudden, Polnareff burst through the door, flowers and balloons in his hands, smiling like a buffoon, not that he could blame him. His own cheeks hurt from smiling so much today which was only amplified by the grin he gave his friend. The two laughed whole heartily as they hugged, being careful of Kakyoin’s injuries, babbling about how exciting this all was. He barely remembered what they said! It was all a blur. Someone came in and gave him his clothes, then helped him into the wheelchair so he could change with a little help from the nurse.

     Everything was a buzz with excitement as Avdol pushed him down the hallway, flowers in hand and the balloon tied to the handle of the wheelchair. They all waved at the doctors and nurses, laughing about the good times of Egypt, exchanging inside jokes, the like. When they arrived at the doors, he saw Mr. Joestar and Jotaro standing together, a rare smile graced Jotaro’s lips as he saw his friend approach him, joking about him looking like shit when he could see how tried Kakyoin was.

     “I couldn’t sleep last night. I was looking forward to the morning too much.” They all smiled sincerely, Joseph clamped a hand down on shoulder, laughing loud enough to draw attention from the passers by.

      Looking out the glass door, his eye was caught by a familiar form. “Mom!” He said, putting his hands on the wheels and rolling as fast as he could towards her. She turned at the sound of her son’s voice, then grinned. 

     “Noriaki!” She ran to him, almost falling to her knees when she was close enough to hug him. He tried his best to catch her, pulling her close to him. They laughed through happy tears, reunited. She immediately went into telling him about what happened at home when she pulled back. His dad came over and did the same, kissing him on the temple gently, patting his back. 

     It was evident they were all happy to see each other, happy to get back to their usual routines. With these people around him, healing would be a breeze! It would be like it never happened. Perfect.

-----------

     “Oh, come on! No way!” Kakyoin shouted with glee, hitting the buttons on his controller harder than he was before. He was trying to beat Dark Link from Legend of Zelda 2, but to no avail. One final stab from the black pixel counter part and he was toast, dropping his hands to the couch and letting out an exasperated sigh. He looked over to Jotaro, who was trying to hide his smug smile. “As if you could do any better!”

     The two laughed lightly, reaching into the bowl of pop corn they had sitting between them. He closed out of the game, done with the fight for now. One day he’d get it. One day. 

     “Was there anything you wanted to play?” He asked. Jotaro shrugged. “There’s not a lot, but there is Super Mario Brothers. You seemed to like that last time. Until the Goomba.”

     “The what?” He looked over, confused and perturbed. 

     “The Goomba. It’s the mushroom thing that kept-”

     “Oh, right. Is that what they’re called?”

     “Yes, that’s what they’re called. Do you want to play it? If not, we could watch a movie,” Kakyoin mused, trying to get his friend interested. He heard him sigh and smiled.

     “Fine, I’ll play.”

     “Great! Would you mind getting it set up? I would do it myself, but...” He gestured to his legs. Jotaro got up wordlessly, getting the new game and setting it up the way he had taught him to, the proper way as he says. Kakyoin did whatever he needed to on his end, the familiar, joyful music filling their ears. He quickly reminded Jotaro how to play and then they set off on starting a new file. 

     Everything was going well, until the Koopas at the second stage. Jotaro made Mario jump on to the first one properly, and then hit the wrong side of the shell, making it barrel the other way, killing his tiny character. Kakyoin laughed.

     “Well, it wasn’t the Goomba!”

     “Let’s just watch a movie.” Another loud laugh made the taller teen hide his head behind his hat. He couldn’t help letting a small smile creep across his lips. Content. Glad that he has his friend, now and forever, as cheesy as that was. It felt nice. For both of them.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys Part 11

I’m stressed again so here’s another entry for this. Gearbox where is Sasha???

“God, that guy's such a douchebag,” Tim said as Rhys ended the conference call they’d been on. He looked over his shoulder. “C’mere, pal. I’ve got a snack to hold you over until lunch time.”

Phoenix got up and went over to Tim, brightening as Tim handed him a packet of fruit snacks and a juice box. Phoenix looked up curiously and Tim nodded, holding his arm out so he could help Phoenix up onto his lap.

“What else do we have to suffer through today?” Tim asked as Phoenix tore open the packet and popped a fruit snack into his mouth.

Rhys checked his schedule. “Another conference call in an hour. After that, I made sure you had time to take a lunch break and rest a bit before your next meeting.”

“Great,” Tim said with a sigh. 

“Just stay in here until the conference call. We can go over the outline of what we need,” Rhys said, pulling it up on his computer.

There was a knock on the door. Rhys glanced over.

“Come in,” he called.

A woman pushed the door open, giving them a sheepish smile as she held up a file. She was incredibly pregnant, waddling over to hand the file to Rhys.

“Here you go, sir. That should be everything, but I’ll be checking my email almost daily while I’m on maternity leave,” she said.

“Right, thank you,” Rhys said, taking the file. “Good luck, and congratulations. I’ll go through your team as much as I can. You should be enjoying time with the baby, not worrying about work. We’ll handle everything to make sure you have a smooth transition back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Strongfork,” she said gratefully. “I’m heading out now. I’ll be in touch. I left everything else with my assistant, if you need anything more.”

She left the office. Rhys set the file on his desk, then looked at Tim curiously.

“Would you ever have another kid?” he asked.

Tim’s eyes widened. “Hell no. I was with Ember from the moment she went into labor. She’s one of the toughest women I’ve ever met, and she was handling the contractions like a champ for a while. But, hell, the longer it went on, the more she screamed and told me how much she hated me and my ‘stupid, fucking non-sterilized sperm’.” He shuddered. “Thought she was going to break my hand when she was getting ready to push. Think she broke my eardrums when she did start pushing. Never again.”

He hesitated, then put a hand over Phoenix’s ear, pressing his other ear into Tim’s chest. Phoenix scowled, but popped another fruit snack and accepted that he was being taken out of this conversation.

“Plus, he would never handle it well. He wouldn’t be able to accept me giving my love to another kid. He’d feel abandoned,” Tim said. “I could never do that to Phoenix. That, and Ember made it quite clear we were never having another kid together. He would never forgive me if I had a kid with someone else.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he’s fine and healthy. But I’m surprised she had a smooth pregnancy in the casino,” Rhys said.

“I did what I could to make sure she had proper meals. Saved up health kits for when she went into labor, just in case,” Tim said with a shrug. “One of her friends from the vice district had helped deliver her sister’s baby a few years earlier, so she acted as a midwife. I wouldn’t say it went smoothly, but it went well enough that we had a fairly healthy kid. We’re not sure exactly when Ember got pregnant, but if my guess is right, Phoenix came two weeks earlier than he should’ve. He was on the smaller side. But there were no real complications with him in his infancy.”

Phoenix was a smaller kid, but Rhys had always assumed that was due to growing up in harsh conditions. Still, he did seem healthy enough, so that was all that mattered in the end.

“No more kids for me,” Tim said, shaking his head. “I learned my lesson damn well. Always, always use a condom. I love my son, but I’m a one and done with kids.”

“I’m...surprised you and Ember stayed on good terms through that,” Rhys admitted.

“Takes two to make a baby,” Tim said with a shrug. “To be honest, she was the one who usually came onto me the times we had unprotected sex. It was on me a few times, but even she admits she started it more often. Still, both our mistake. We knew that. We stepped up to face the consequences. God, women are incredible, though. I’m such a bitch about pain. No way in hell I’d ever survive what Ember went through with childbirth.”

He uncovered Phoenix’s ears. Phoenix rubbed at them.

“Just talking about how incredible your mom is,” Tim said, ruffling his hair.

“Dad, where do babies even come from?” Phoenix said.

Rhys choked on air at the question. His eyes widened in alarm as he looked at Tim, not wanting anything to do with this conversation.

But Tim seemed calm enough about it. “Well, that’s a heavy question, pal. I don’t think you’d fully understand yet. But babies grow inside their mothers. You saw how big that lady’s stomach was? There was a baby in there, almost ready to be born. You grew inside your mom, just like I grew inside mine.”

Phoenix frowned. “But how does the baby get there? And how do they get out?”

Rhys wanted to bang his head on the desk. He regretted bringing this topic up at all.

Tim just shrugged. “That’s the tough part to explain to you. A dad helps the baby get there, but I don’t think you’d understand that part of it yet. And when the baby is ready to come into the world, the mom has to...well, push it out.”

Phoenix furrowed his brow. “I don’t get it. How?”

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Tim said, taking a fruit snack out of the packet to hold out to him. 

“Aren’t you just supposed to tell kids babies come from the stork, or something?” Rhys said.

“Why? There’s nothing wrong with him knowing,” Tim said. “Jeez, Rhys, didn’t your parents ever explain any of this to you growing up? Yea, it’s kinda awkward, but it’s not inappropriate or anything.” He leaned back and laughed a little. “Here I am talking about it. My mom would smack me upside the head if she knew I completely disregarded her safe sex talk and knocked a woman up.” But his laughter died down and he slowly looked at Phoenix.

“Tim?” Rhys said.

“I just...wish she could know about him, ya know? I think she’d really love him. We had this swing in the backyard she used to push me on when I was a kid. I think she’d like pushing him on it,” he said quietly.

“You could always tell her,” Rhys said, but he knew Tim’s family was a touchy subject.

Tim hugged Phoenix to himself. “No, I can’t. She’s better off not knowing what happened to me, even if it means she never knows about her grandson.”

“Ya mean your mom, dad?” Phoenix said. “I wanna meet her!”

Tim looked pained. “I know. I want you to meet her. But...we can’t, Phoenix. She doesn’t even know I’m alive. And I’m not...me. Not anymore. She wouldn’t recognize me. I wouldn’t want her to. It’s hard, pal. It’s really hard.”

“I could anonymously send her a picture of him?” Rhys offered.

Tim shook his head. “No. He’s so young. There’s no way he could’ve been born before I supposedly died. And even if you convinced her it’s an old picture, she’d go looking for him.” He kissed Phoenix. “I think...I think she’d go looking for him. She would think he’s all that’s left of her son now.” He sighed. “No, it’s better if she just goes on thinking I died all those years ago. Besides, I was a shitty son. No need for her to know I’m a shitty father too.”

Phoenix hit Tim in the shoulder. “Stop it, dad. You’re not shitty. I love you.”

“Language,” Tim said, but he cracked a smile. “Yea, pal, I love you too.”

“Hey boss guy, are you gonna have any kids?” Phoenix said.

Rhys rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh...someday. Maybe. I want kids.”

“Phoenix could babysit,” Tim said. At Rhys’ startled look, he laughed. “I’m kidding, Rhys, calm down. He’s not even old enough to be left by himself yet. Seriously, though. Have kids sometime soon so my kid can have a friend.”

“I was hoping…” He trailed off. Hoping what? To have kids with Sasha? They’d never even talked about it. 

And she wasn’t here now.

“Is it the girl you have a picture of on your desk?” Tim asked, nodding to it. “Waiting on her?”

“Something like that,” Rhys said, looking at the picture. “You would’ve liked her. She would’ve been incredible with Phoenix. A hell of a lot better than I am with him, at least.”

“Is she…” Tim waited.

“What? Oh, no! No, she’s just-” He tore his eyes from the photo. “I trust she’ll come back one day. Even if she doesn’t want to be with me, I don’t think she’d ever leave me wondering what happened to her forever.”

“Did you love a girl, boss guy?” Phoenix asked curiously.

“I did,” Rhys admitted. “I still do. She’s just, um, not here right now.”

���Oh. I hope she comes back soon if you like her,” Phoenix said. He frowned up at Tim. “I don’t get adults, dad. If you love your mom, why don’t you find her? And if boss guy loves this lady, why doesn’t he find her?”

“It’s not always that easy,” Tim said gently, hugging Phoenix close. “Love is hard, Phoenix. Worth it, but hard.”

“But I love you and it’s not hard!” he said.

“Well, good. I hope love is never hard for you,” Tim said, running a hand through Phoenix’s messy hair. “And I hope someday boss guy here has a kid or two of his own for you to play with. You get to have a friend, and I get to watch him try to explain where babies come from to his own kid.”

“I hate you. We were having a moment and you ruined it,” Rhys said, shooting him an exasperated look. 

“Socially stunted,” Tim reminded, grinning. “Alright, that’s enough deep talk for now. Phoenix, go read your book and finish your snack. Rhys, let’s get ready for that conference call.”

They did just that, but Rhys’ mind was too distracted to really focus. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sasha, and about the future they could have together. He saw Tim struggle through fatherhood, but he also saw the joy and love that it brought him. 

“Tim?” Rhys said, interrupting their work.

“I know, Rhys,” Tim said, glancing up at him and giving a weak smile. “I hope you get the future you dream of. I really do. Parenting is exhausting, but it’s worth it. And even if you don’t have kids someday, I hope you have your girl.”

“I...thanks,” Rhys said, looking back to the picture of Sasha. He hoped so too. He really hoped so. 

He was glad to be a part of Tim’s family. But it’d be nice to have one of his own, one day.

[mamabearcatfanfics]

This little ficlet doesn’t really have a name. It’s set in the world of The Importance of Ramen and occurs sometime between Chapter One and Two. Not quite angst I don’t think, but not very happy either. Because not everyone gets their happy ending. It was just something I needed to write today. The image below is of Yanaka Cemetery in Tokyo.

“This really cannot continue Higurashi-san”, droned the school Principal’s voice over the phone. “I understand you have concerns about your daughter’s health, but we can no longer accept phone calls and sick notes signed by you for her absences. Unless you start providing medical certificates, signed by a medical professional, we will have to alert the proper authorities. She may even face expulsion over her non-attendance, and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

The man’s tone was critical, condescending, his disbelief regarding Kagome’s illnesses barely concealed, and Mama swallowed the sharp retort that wanted to slip past her teeth. Deep breath. She needed to stay calm.

“No, of course not, Yamato-san”, she said, enunciating clearly, her voice dripping with feigned politeness. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to me today. We all have Kagome’s best interests at heart.”

“I hope we will not have to repeat this conversation again, Higurashi-san. Good day.”

Mama placed down the receiver on the phone with a deep sigh. She really couldn’t blame the man for his skepticism though. It had been a mistake on her part to ask ojiichan to provide the excuses for Kagome’s constant absences from school. Varicose veins for a sixteen year old? She had recently taken over, providing much more credible excuses, much to Kagome’s relief. She had to admit though, it was hard to keep up the constant pretense of Kagome’s illness, although she had no problems in playing the role of concerned mother. That wasn’t an act.

She’d bid a cheerful goodbye to Kagome and Inuyasha early this morning after they’d eaten breakfast, waiting for the flash of light that signalled their disappearance down the well to let the fake smile fall from her face.

Every time her daughter left, she had to swallow the panic that rose up, imagining all the gruesome and horrific ways it was possible to die in that time period, even without the addition of battling the supernatural. Every time she said goodbye, she worried it would be the last. She’d taken to reading medical books in the evenings when Kagome was away, just in case the knowledge might be needed someday.

She sometimes wondered if Inuyasha could sense her fear – he’d been looking at with a very serious expression this morning before they departed. But her Toshi had always said that fear was something that should be faced, that it was something that should not stop you living life the way that you wished to, and she was doing her best to support Kagome in what the fates had chosen for her. Her daughter was working so hard to train and learn and keep up with her school work. She was inordinately proud of her. But it was hard.

Eri’s mother had called yesterday, wanting to know if she could assist in any way with Kagome’s health. She had clucked sympathetically over the phone, but Mama had immediately recognised the call for what it was. Questions must be circulating again about Kagome’s continual absences through the parent’s grape vine, and Eri’s mother was fishing for gossip. The line being cast became even more obvious when she’d commented on Kagome’s ‘boyfriend’, a topic Mama refused to either confirm or deny. She’d managed to fob her off this time with a vague excuse saying they were waiting for results from a clinic, but that woman was persistent, the thin edge of a very large wedge of parents who were all ready to judge at the slightest sign of weakness.

After making ojiichan his lunch, she decided the monthly accounts could be put off no longer. She sat at her desk, the hot cup of tea she’d made herself neglected until it turned cold and bitter while she struggled to make the figures stretch as far as she needed them to. The government allowance for keeping the shrine running was not huge. The Sunset Shrine was only small, visited by faithful locals, rather than large crowds of city dwellers and tourists ready to spend money on omamori and fortunes that the more popular shrines attracted. She would have to think about ways to bring in extra money. Ojiichan was getting older, and she wanted to be able to look after him and provide all the comforts he deserved in his old age. And then there was schooling for Kagome and Souta.

She was startled out of her calculations when Souta burst in through the back door like a whirlwind, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag with a thump in the genkan. School was over already?

“Hi Mama! Can’t stay, I’ve got kendo practice! Sensei said last week that my gi is getting too small and I need a new one. And the competition fees for next weekend are overdue! I gotta go get changed or I’ll be late!”

“Souta! Your bag does not belong in the entryway where everyone will trip over it young man!” Mama called out, but he’d already flung himself up the stairs. She looked over the figures again worriedly. Maybe they might have to sell some of the family ‘treasures’ out in the shrine store room. If she could pry them out of ojiichan’s reluctant fingers that is.

Her head was thumping, and the figures seemed to be making even less sense than they did when she’d first sat down more than an hour ago. She finally gave up, shuffling the paperwork back together to file it away in her desk, then reached up to the small box that sat on the top of the fridge filled with more regularly used medications, to get herself some paracetamol. But the box was empty. Kagome had obviously raided it again, taking all the paracetomol and ibruprofen to restock her medical kit. Right. She took a slow deep breath in, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. It wasn’t that she minded Kagome taking them, they were obviously needed, but she could at least inform her that they needed to be replaced.

There was a hollow feeling in her chest. An empty ache. All day long, there had been a nagging feeling that she was forgetting something important. It was dragging at her memory, wanting her to concentrate on it, but everyone seemed to need something different from her, and she’d not been able to concentrate. Maybe it was a shrine anniversary of some sort? She checked the calendar, and her heart dropped into her shoes.

Oh Toshi. It was their wedding anniversary. She’d got through more than half of the day without even thinking about him on a day which had once been so important. Her throat felt thick, and she bit her lip hard, trying to force back the tears that wanted to spring to her eyes. Don’t cry. You can’t cry when Souta is home. She pinched hard on the inside of her wrist, a trick she’d learned over the years to help push back the grief when it surfaced at inappropriate times. Deep breath. She heard Souta’s heavy steps as he thundered back down the steps, wearing his gi and hakama with his kendo gear bag over his shoulder. She was ready to greet her son with a bright smile as he headed out the door.

“Straight back home after practice okay? I’m making curry, seeing Inuyasha-kun isn’t here!”

“Okay Mama. See you later!”

The door slammed as he took off, and Grandpa grumbled as he re-appeared in the kitchen carrying his empty plate, complaining about the noise.

“He’s just young, ojiichan – he didn’t mean any disrespect. How is your back feeling?”

“Not too bad. At least Inuyasha-kun didn’t break anything this time”, he said, rubbing down low on his spine. He’d been taking an inventory yesterday, and had made Inuyasha help him with the heavier boxes.

“He’s actually a very helpful boy you know, when you let him get on with things, and don’t hover over him with sutras”, Mama remarked, teasing him a little. Grandpa snorted.

“That ‘boy’ is probably older than you and me put together”, he huffed. “Plenty of time to have learned the good sense he doesn’t display that often. The kitchen has never been the same since he took a swing at that cockroach with his sword.” He looked carefully at his daughter-in-law, taking in her overly bright smile. “Are you okay Kaori-chan?”

“I’m fine”, she smiled. He gave her a hard stare and her smile faltered. “Alright, I will be fine. But I might go and to the family haka by myself for a little while, if that’s okay ojiichan? I promise I will be back in time to make dinner.”

The old man reached out and took one of his daughter in law’s hands in his, the look on his face sombre but understanding.

“I probably don’t say this enough Kaori-chan, but my son chose well. I could not have asked for a better daughter.”

“Thank you ojiichan”, she smiled, patting his hand. “I feel the same way about you.” She dropped a kiss onto the old man’s balding head, then went to genkan to put on her jacket and shoes., letting her mind wander as she walked down the steep shrine steps to the bus stop, waiting for the familiar bus that would take her to the family plot at the cemetery.

Her own family had turned their back on her when she’d refused a marriage offer by an older, much wealthier man to marry Toshinori, her high school sweetheart. Her parents had not spoken to her since she’d left home, but thankfully Toshi’s family had welcomed her with open arms as the daughter they’d never had.

She loved Toshi’s parents, and had come to think of them as her own. She’d been there for Toshi’s mother Hana, nursing her at home when she was diagnosed with cancer. She’d done her best to ease her growing pain with all the love and care she could until she’d died a year later, surrounded by family. Then Kagome was born, a few weeks after Hana’s death. It had helped to have a baby to focus on, even though it was a hard time. Kagome had been the apple of her grandfather’s eye, she still was, and he had spoilt her rotten.

After years of trying, when Kagome was nearly eight, she’d become pregnant again, a boy this time. Toshi had been overjoyed. They were so happy, so in love. It didn’t seem fair that not everyone could have a life like theirs, and she pitied those whose marriages were not a true meeting of hearts like hers was. They knew each other inside and out. Teased each other constantly, laughed at ridiculous things, loved their baby daughter with all that they had. And now they would have a son too. It felt like the kami were smiling down on their little family. Right up until that night that the police came to the door, to inform her about the car accident.

Toshi had never woken from his coma. She had been the one to make the decision to turn off his life support, with ojiichan’s blessing. Toshi had been a man full of life, full of joy, and she knew that he would not have wanted to continue in the state that he was. She had wept beside him, gripping his hand and repeating ‘I love you’ constantly, as if trying to complete the next forty years of being unable to say it to him in person into the short time left. And then she had left the room, knowing she would never see him again. If it had not been for Kagome waiting for her at home with ojiichan, and their son still growing in her womb, she would have left the hospital and gladly walked straight into the oncoming traffic so she wouldn’t have to live in a world without him in it.

The sound of the bus pulling up alongside her stop startled her out of her thoughts, and the bus driver nodded politely at her when she mounted the steps – he’d been driving this route for many years, and knew where she was going.

“It’s a little later in the day than you usually go Higurashi-san”, he remarked as she tapped her bus pass. “Make sure you don’t miss the last bus back.”

Mama smiled politely. “I’ll remember. Thank you.” She made sure to keep the mask of politeness set on her face as she moved to her seat. Being part of a shrine family meant being recognised on sight by everyone in the area. Expectations must be upheld.

It was a twenty minute trip to the cemetery, which she spent silently, her eyes gazing out the window but focused internally on the many happy memories replaying in her mind. She paused to buy a bunch of rust coloured chrysanthemums from the flower stall at the gate, then followed the path down through the maze of family graves, the tall markers reaching up towards the sky like a well ordered stone forest. Finally she arrived at the Higurashi marker.

Kneeling down, she washed her hands, then arranged the flowers carefully in the vase, straightening bent stalks. She lit the sandalwood incense stick, watching the swirling ribbons of smoke disippate through the crisp breeze, then clapped her hands.

‘Hello Toshi. I’m sorry I’m late dear heart. Happy Anniversary.” She leaned forwards, pulling out a stray weed that had grown up through the pebbles around the marble. “Were you waiting for me? I can’t stay very long this time. I promised Souta I would make curry for dinner this evening; he always works up such an appetite after kendo practice. And he’s a growing boy, your son. His kendo hakama and gi are getting too small for him.”

Her fingers traced over the graceful incisions in the marble that marked her husband’s name, the gold inlay glinting in the afternoon sunlight. The thought of Souta’s hakama sparked a memory.

“Do you remember all those photos we had to sit through, after the ceremony?” she smiled. “We kept giggling, and your mother scolded us, because she wanted some serious photos. You looked so handsome in those traditional striped hakama. Our wedding day was one of the happiest days of my life.”

Without warning, her bottom lip trembled, and the hot tears that she’d put aside earlier in the day returned with a vengeance, falling thick and fast. “Why did you have to go my Toshi? I miss you. I still miss you. You were such a good good man, how could all that disappear in an instant? Why did you have to leave?” she sobbed, her fists clenched in her lap, gripping the fabric of her skirt tightly as she bent forward to rest her forehead against the cool stone. It took her a moment to calm her sobs, breathing deeply, letting the coolness of the stone soothe her aching head.

“I’m sorry for the tears on what should be a happy day”, she whispered, “I’m just so tired Toshi, so very tired. I’m always worried about Kagome. She works so very hard, trying to do her best for everyone. I know Inuyasha is there to protect her, but I’m her mother. I’m always wondering if I’m doing the right thing, letting her do this. Your father was against her going through the well at first, but you always told me to trust what my heart said, and my heart says this is right, even though my head is terrified.” A small breeze swirled around her, lifting the chrysanthemum petals and wafting the incense towards the grave in a steady stream. She smiled a small teary smile. “I’m glad you think so too. I’m still not quite sure what to do about her schooling, but I will figure it out, I’m sure.”

She spent the next half hour sitting silently, listening to the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the muted sounds of Tokyo traffic. It was such a peaceful place. A place where she could sit quietly and regroup, try and regain her strength. She checked her watch, and realised that it was time to leave, if she were to make the next bus.

“Thank you for letting me ramble on koishii. I will come again, as soon as I can. I might bring your father with me next time. I’m sure he would love to visit with you and obaachan.” She got to her feet slowly, hissing a little as the blood rushed back into cramped feet.  

It was a slow walk back to the bus stop, then a winding route back, but she didn’t mind. It was nice to be alone with her own thoughts once in a while, without the constant needs of others crowding in. By the time she’d climbed back up the steep stone steps and walked back into the kitchen to cook dinner, she was ready to tackle the world again. For a while at least.

[myherowritings]

Fever Talk

— “Side effects may include: light-headedness, disorientation, and accidental confessions of love.” You help nurse a fever-ridden Ground Zero back to health, but little did you know it should have come with a warning.

pairing: pro hero!bakugou x manager!reader word count: 3.9k genre: pro hero au, sick fic, fluff

a/n: i wanna take care of sick bakubabe and tuck him in and make him chicken noodle soup and see his flushed face as wipe away his sweat wait what o.o

In the 294 days you had worked as Ground Zero’s manager, not once had he taken a day off. 

Other than the government enforced national holidays (in which you still had to coerce him to stay home or spend time with friends instead of going to the agency to track new leads), not a weekday had gone by without you seeing him.

Until now. 

You had received a call directly from Bakugou’s physician (because you knew if Ground Zero had his way, he would show up to work regardless of what his doctor said), and they told you he was to stay home for the next three days because of a 38.6 degree fever. 

Your eyes bulged at the news. You haven’t had a fever that bad since you were in elementary school, and even then your parents made you stay home for almost the whole week.

“He shouldn’t overexert himself for the time being,” said his doctor over the phone. “I’m going to fax you the report and you have my full permission to use whatever means required to make Bakugou-san stay in bed.” 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, sir.”

“Of course it is, Y/L/N-san.” There was slight static coming from his line. “It is Ground Zero, after all. If you’d never arranged for a car to pick him up and bring him to my office, the only time I’d see him is if he were fatally bleeding out.”

With small huff of laughter, you shook your head. The sad part was you knew what the doctor said was true. Bakugou would work himself to death he could. 

Thankfully, he had an amazing manager (you) to keep the stubborn ass (him) in check.

After ending the phone call with the physician, you settled down to get ahead on some paperwork while you could. But by the time one hour had gone by, you were already finished filing the pages and were left staring off into space as you wondered if Bakugou was doing alright.

You weren’t sure about him, but you definitely hated being left all alone while you were sick. 

Making your own chicken noodle soup just wasn’t the same as having someone make it for you with a sprinkle of love. 

You knew if you were the one with the 38.6 fever, you would want someone to come over and care for you. And you knew that although Bakugou would be utterly indignant if you showed up at his place to help him out, it would be better for him in the long run. 

At least, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself as you clocked out of work and made your way to the nearest convenience store, grabbing the ingredients for chicken noodle soup along with cough drops, lip balm, aloe vera tissues, teas, moisturizer, cooling pads, honey...and then some. 

Okay-- Perhaps you went a tad bit overboard with the care package, but it was only because you wanted Bakugou to feel better so he could get back to work as soon as possible.

There was definitely no other reason. 

You were sure of it.

As you stepped out of the elevator and made your way to his high-rise suite, you fished the spare key he gave you out from your bag. 

“Bakugou-san?” you called, knocking first for courtesy’s sake. When he didn’t reply you unlocked the door and opened it a small crack. “It’s Y/L/N! I’m coming in.” 

You heard a low grunt coming from down the hall and took it as an invitation to head in. 

When you walked inside, you noticed his living room and kitchen were, for the most part, exactly the same as it always did-- Well organized and thoroughly cleaned. The only thing out of place was the white paper bag on the counter with the medicine his physician prescribed. 

Setting the groceries next to his refrigerator, you headed down the hallway with the care package in hand. “I heard you’re not feeling well.” 

There was a quiet grumble of protest that made you snort.

“Can I come in?” you asked, stopping inches from his doorway. “I have some things for you.” 

“Hmmph,” was his coherent reply.

The first thing you saw when you walked in was Bakugou in the center of his king-sized bed, comforter and blankets half strewn across him, half draped on the floor. His cheeks were flushed a pale pink and his bangs were clinging to the sides of his face. He had dark circles under his eyes and his shirtless torso was glistening with cold sweat.

You blinked, dragging your gaze away from his chest. “You look terrible.”

He coughed. “Wow, thanks.”

“Have you even taken your medicine yet?” you fretted, going over to the side of his bed and pressing the back of your hand against his forehead.

His only response was a groan.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

In a weak movement, Bakugou swatted your hand away from his head and frowned. “I don’t need the stupid medicine.” 

You pursed your lips, checking his temperature once more only to have him shove your hand away. This game went on for a good five minutes before you cried out in frustration.

“Let me check your fucking temperature!”

His eyes shot open in shock before they narrowed in your direction. Through a fit of coughs, he yelled, “You’re not supposed to shout a sick person, baka!”

“There’s an exception if shouting is the only way words will get through the thick skull of theirs!” 

With an exasperated sigh, you cupped his face between your hands and kneeled down until you were eye level with him as he laid down on his bed. You felt him squirm in your grasp but you were unrelenting.

“What the-- What are you doing?!”

In a split second, you gently placed your cool forehead against his warm one, comparing the two temperatures. It was something your parents used to do when you were a child to check if your fever had gone down. The effectiveness of the method? You weren’t quite sure if it was effective at all, really. But you ended up okay, so something about it must’ve worked.

As you felt the heat from his body reach a temperature almost too hot to touch, you frowned. Bakugou’s lips were parted slightly as he let out light huffs of breath.

“Y/L/N…” 

You swallowed. His voice was raspy and his nose was flushed a cute pink color and you absolutely hated your brain for succumbing to the stupid Florence Nightingale effect.

You’re his manager, you scolded yourself. What were you thinking?

“Yes?” you said, a little breathless despite your better judgment. 

“I have to…” He blinked slowly, a weird expression on his face and he softly but firmly pushed you a good distance away. “I have to fucking sneeze--!”

Turning his head to the side as fast as he could and covering his mouth, Bakugou let out the loudest goddamn sneeze you had ever heard in your life. You could’ve sworn his million dollar windows rattled at the force of his monster sneeze.

You looked at him, slightly alarmed. “Uh… Bless you?”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, wiping his nose with a tissue before tossing it into a trashbag. 

Watching him with a curious--and also slightly grossed out--expression, you drummed your fingers against your upper thighs until you figured out what to say.

“Well,” you concluded finally, “you felt really hot.”

Katsuki gave you a blank look. “I could’ve told you that myself.”

You glared. “But I confirmed it.”

“Actually, the doctor confirmed it.” 

“Do you want me to make you chicken noodle soup or not?!”

He instantly shut himself up as he straightened his position on his bed. 

Tilting his head to the side, Bakugou mused, “You can cook?” 

You considered his question. You weren’t as great of a chef as he was, but you could hold your own in the kitchen. “Well, I can cook chicken noodle soup.” 

“Soup does sound nice…” he said dazedly, wiping the cold sweat off his hairline before shutting his eyes as a sudden tingle of pain hit him. 

Your expression softened to one of concern as you rushed out to get his medicine and a glass of water. You returned to his bedside and poured the proper dosage of medication in a small measuring cup. 

“Here. Take this and drink some water, Bakugou-san,” you said, extending your hands out to him.

He accepted the cup with a grateful nod. “Bakugou.”

You blinked. “Pardon?”

“Just Bakugou.” He drank the medicine in a gulp and washed the taste down with some warm water before meeting your gaze. “We yell at each other all the time and you’re here in my bedroom alone-- I think we’ve been past the honorifics for a while now.” 

Your cheeks heated up. Sure, the two of you were close-- Closer than most managers and their clients. But officially dropping the honorifics seemed like a whole other step in your relationship. And you hated that you were so happy about it.

“Right… Bakugou,” you said slowly, testing out the sound. You smiled, growing nervous as you looked away. “Well, Bakugou, I’m going to make you some soup now. You just drink some more water and lie down, okay?” 

Katsuki grunted in what you thought was a noise of agreement. 

You turned around to leave the room only to be stopped by his sudden voice.

“Y/L/N?” he called, placing the glass of water on his nightstand. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you choked out, surprised by his show of sentiment.

And as you hurried out of the room towards the kitchen, you tried to ignore the pounding of your heart as a disoriented grin spread across your face. 

Just Bakugou, huh?

- - - - -

“So, how does it taste?” you asked eagerly, staring at him as he took the spoonful of soup into his mouth.

“All my senses are dulled, but it seems good.” He swallowed the broth with a shrug of approval. “Do you really have to feed me though?” 

You stopped blowing air onto the soup-filled spoon to face Bakugou with a wide-eyed look. When you had returned from the kitchen with a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup in hand, you found him sprawled out on his bed with an eerily peaceful half-smile on his face. 

Meaning the medicine had just kicked in. 

Naturally, you were quite concerned over his unnervingly lax state of being, but after reading the warnings and directions on the box, your worries quickly faded. 

Side Effects May Include: drowsiness, nausea, fatigue, confusion, disorientation…

The list went on, but the only side effect you noticed was how disoriented and loopy he was. Katsuki was significantly less aggressive than his normal self and you could’ve sworn you even heard an uncharacteristic giggle or two come out of him. 

As much as you admired the headstrong and determined Ground Zero, cute and frivolous Bakugou was something you would most likely never witness again in your life. So of course, you had to make the most of it while you could.

“Of course I have to spoon-feed you, Bakugou,” you said with a tsk. “What if you spill on yourself and get even more sick?”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he mumbled, but still parted his lips as you brought the spoon closer to his mouth.

You sighed, amused. Even drugged up with a 38.6 degree fever, he was still a smartass.

“Just eat your noodles.”

His nose crinkled at the demand in such a way that made you want to tweak it, but you refrained, instead scooping up more soup and cooling it down with some air. 

After the long (and rather difficult) process of making Bakugou finish his food and water, you quickly washed the dishes and cleared the kitchen, returning to his bedroom with a cooling pad in hand.

“Bakugou,” you said quietly, peering down at his resting form. “I brought you something.”

It didn’t look like he was in any pain, but his cheeks were still an angry pink color with damp hair framing his face. Kneeling by his bedside, you wiped a droplet of sweat from his brow with a hand towel and brushed his hair aside. 

His eyes fluttered open at your touch and his half-lidded expression was filled with daze and vulnerability. Katsuki reached his hand out to poke your cheek and you froze. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” 

“Your face looks nice,” he mumbled in reply, his voice so drawn out you were certain it could only be the medication talking. “And your hair, too.”

He grabbed a strand of your hair and ran his finger through before getting caught in a tangle. Bakugou’s mouth quirked downwards into a pout and you wished you had a camera at the ready to capture that moment (and definitely not use it as a potential source of blackmail).

Although you knew his words came from a fever-induced haze, you still felt your face heat up at all the attention he was giving you. “Thanks. Y-Your face looks nice, too.” 

“Hmm.”

With a satisfied nod, he dropped his hand and shut his eyes again, breaths growing steady. 

You let out an amused breath of laughter as you continued wiping the sweat off his face. When Katsuki seemed significantly less sweaty, you pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. His temperature didn’t seem as hot as before, but he would definitely not be well enough to go back to work tomorrow. 

“How are you feeling, Bakugou?”

“Hot.”

He tossed his sheets off him, revealing his perfectly toned chest and abdomen for the second time today. If you had known you were going to be attacked like this, you would’ve come better prepared with a cold water bottle and hand-held fan. Preferably with a mist attachment. 

You cleared your throat. “I brought a cooling pad. Would that be helpful?”

“Hmm,” he moaned in confirmation.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

While a cooling pad wouldn’t reduce Bakugou’s fever, it would help make the heat slightly more bearable. And as you felt his body heat, you couldn’t help but wonder if his quirk helped him stay more tolerant of the high temperatures, or only caused him to feel hotter-- But that was a question for another day when he was no longer ill.

Pushing his hair back to reveal his forehead, you placed the gel cooling pad you bought from the store on his face, gently smoothing it down with the pad of your thumb.

Satisfied at your work, you smiled down at Katsuki, ready to stand up and take your leave. But as you stood, his sudden voice stopped you.

“Thank you...angel.” 

Almost choked in surprise when you heard that word come out of his mouth. Was he referring to you? Well, of fucking course he was, you snapped at yourself. Unless he was talking to himself, you dumbass. 

You open your mouth and clamped it shut a few times, completely speechless as he laid on his bed with what you could’ve sworn was an amused smile on his face. Thankfully, you didn’t have to think of what to say because he seemed to knock out as quickly as he said those words. 

His breathing shallowed and you let out a sigh of relief knowing you were safe from further embarrassment for today. 

“Why can’t I just tell you I like you?” you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as he drifted off into a deep sleep. “You’re a stubborn client and you make my head hurt, but I can’t get your stupid face out of my head.” 

You glared down at him but, as expected from a sleeping person, the only response was a soft snore.

You sighed, pushing yourself off his bedside and wiping your palms against your upper thighs as you exited his room. “Get well soon, Bakugou.” 

Maybe one day you’d have the courage to tell him your feelings when he wasn’t sound asleep.

- - - - -

Three days had passed since you helped nurse Katsuki during the peak of his fever, and now he was back and better than ever.

Actually, that was a blatant lie he told you on the phone as he called in saying he was showing up to work. Most employees called hours earlier to say they were calling out. But not the famed Ground Zero-- Nope. He was certainly something special.

When he showed up, he was still coughing and sniffling here and there, but attitude-wise, it seemed like he was in tip-top shape with his usual obstinance and unyielding passion you had grown to admire.

“Glad you’re feeling better, Bakugou-san,” you greeted when you entered his office, a friendly but obviously work-appropriate smile on your face.

He raised a brow when he noticed, adjusting the cuffs on his work shirt as he glanced at you.

“What happened to just Bakugou, Y/L/N?” he asked nonchalantly in what was almost a playful tone.

You blinked rapidly. Did you get sick and now this was just some weirdly vivid fever dream? 

“Ah-- You had a fever when you said to drop the honorifics and so-- I figured it was just the illness talking.” 

“Well it wasn’t,” Katsuki said simply. “Why would I say something I don’t mean?”

Quirking your head to the side, you stared at him curiously. “So when you said I had a nice face and pretty hair and called me and angel…” you trailed off teasingly. “You meant it?”

A subtle blush formed on his face as he rolled his eyes, scoffing to disguise his embarrassment. You tried not to smirk. 

“Tch. I change my mind,” he grumbled, staring down at his unopened paperwork. “You’re right-- That was just fever talk.”

“Of course,” you agreed with an innocent smile that told Katsuki you didn’t believe him one bit.

Bakugou scowled. “What’s that smile for, baka? It’s not like you didn’t say embarrassing things yesterday either.”

“Oh, like what?”

“When you thought I was sleeping and told me you liked me.”

Your smile dropped and your face felt hot enough to burst into flames so big, it would’ve given Ground Zero himself a run for his money. When your gaze met his, you caught sight of the small smirk on his face and wondered how Bakugou was so quickly able to regain the upper hand. 

You told him you liked him when you were certain he was sleeping-- Not when you thought he was. He was snoring when you said it, for crying out loud! So either he was bluffing about hearing your confession, or he was only pretending to sleep the other day to hear what you had to say.

Narrowing your eyes, you huffed. You certainly wouldn’t put the latter option past him.

“You heard that?”

“Memorized every word.”

“Well,” you said haughtily, a sorry attempt to save face, “if what you said was just fever talk, then what I said was just Florence Nightingale talk.” 

He grunted. “That’s stupid.”

“So are you!” you cried, growing increasingly flustered by the minute.

“That’s not something you should say to your number one client.”

“And that’s not a tone you should use with your godsend of a manager!”

You felt the tension rising, but instead of him snapping back with a snarky comment that would send you to the grave, Bakugou let out a throaty chuckle that left you staring uncertainly at him.

“You’re right.”

You blinked. “I’m what?”

“You’re right.” He snorted at the confused expression on your face, but sobered as he said, “Thank you. For taking care of me the other day. I know it’s not part of your job description and you didn’t have to do that-- But you did. So, thanks.” 

Biting the inside of your lip you held back a shy smile.

“O-Oh. You’re welcome,” you said, a faint flush on your cheek as you tried to let go of the topic. “Anything for my favorite Pro Hero.” 

But apparently, Bakugou wasn’t ready to let go of said topic.

“Your favorite Pro Hero…whom you like?” he pressed, a mischievous glint never leaving his eyes.

A sinking feeling set in your stomach when you realized there was no use denying it any longer-- Bakugou would forever and always hold this against you and there was nothing you would do about it. 

“Maybe,” you forced out, puffing your chest up despite the shakiness of your voice. 

There was a beat of silence and you held your breath. The moment felt like it lasted for eternity and you were ready to plug your ears and run to the other room instead of waiting for his response. But you swallowed your pride and held your head up high… Only to hear a reply you were not at all expecting. 

“Good. Because I hear he might like you, too.”

Your eyes widened. “What? He-- I mean you… What?” 

“I like you.” Katsuki shrugged. 

You blinked. “I also like you.”

His red eyes gleamed as he grinned. “I know.” 

Bakugou took slow, purposeful steps around his desk until he stood mere inches in front of you. You gulped, eyes darting from the ceilings to the walls as you avoided his intense gaze.

“I like you and you like me. And we’re not dumb high schoolers in U.A. anymore, Y/L/N,” he said, an amused tone despite the serious look on his face. “So what are we going to do about it?”

“You tell me.” 

His eyebrow quirked at the challenge and you mentally high-fived yourself for your uncharacteristically nonchalant reply. “I think I’m going to do something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

Katsuki’s pupils were dilated and he looked at you in such a way that made exactly what he wanted to do quite clear.

You briefly looked around his office-- No one else was in the room, the door was shut and locked, and there was a handsome Pro Hero in front of you looking like he was seconds away from devouring his next meal.

“Then do it,” you said.

In the blink of an eye, Bakugou placed one hand on the small of your back to push your body closer to his while the other gently cupped your cheek, tilting your chin up as you met the teasing brush of his lower lip. A quiet gasp escaped your mouth at the sudden spark and you found yourself throwing your arms around the nape of his neck to steady yourself, fingers softly gripping the base of his hair as he deepened the kiss.

Katsuki kissed you until your head felt like it was spinning, then kissed you again once you had the chance to catch your breath. It was deep and passionate and all your senses were filled with traces of him.

“Well, we definitely did something,” you managed to say in between pants as his mouth found the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Took us long enough,” Bakugou mumbled, lifting you up by the thighs as seating you on top of his desk. “Now, if we’re done talking, I think we have more things we need to catch up on.”

It was safe to say making out with Ground Zero in his penthouse office would forever be one of the best moments in your life.

a/n: whoop, the end! okay i know they don’t exactly act like manager and client but pfft i’ve been playing bts world and my managerial skills are great so i’m def qualified to write this ;p anyway hope you enjoyed this mess of a fic! i struggled so hard writing this request and i’m not that proud tbh but i hope it made you smile at least! :) xx sof