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ugly-anastasia · 1 year ago

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Talk and Talk and Go Viral | The Swynlake Squire

Featuring: @toby-determined, @amelia-o-gabble, @miss-holleyshiftwell, and introducing Pamela Hearst-Pulitzer

Date: Mid January

Warnings: None!

The Swynlake Squire staff is called in to discuss a recent controversial incident... and who's to blame.

ANNIE

As soon as Annie saw the surprise all-hands meeting on her calendar, she was worried. Even in the best of times, that could be a sign of bad things. And now there was that ridiculous petition calling for herself and Toby to be fired, and it didn’t matter how ridiculous Annie thought it, her job was on the line.

She and Toby were the first ones at the meeting, thankfully. Annie really didn’t want to make small talk with the traitorous blondes (who had never liked her from the beginning) while they waited for the new editor to get this meeting started.

“Be honest, Tobe,” Annie whispered. “Do you think we’re toast?”

TOBY: Toby was also highly anxious about this meeting. So much so that he was eyeing the little waste basket beside the door, wondering if he could make it there before the several cups of coffee swishing around in his stomach made a move. He had not thought a story like this could lead to termination or demotion of any kind! Though…he couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased by that since the story had obviously garnered a lot of attention and things like that always had consequences. He had just been hoping they would be of the good kind.

He glanced to Ms. Tremaine when her voice broke the otherwise quiet room as they waited for their colleagues to join them and found himself shrugging.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, leaning toward her a little. “I suppose it’ll depend on where the paper’s loyalty lies. With the truth or with public opinion.”

ANNIE

Annie nodded in agreement, her expression serious. Yes, Toby was right about that. This wasn’t just a petty dispute between coworkers. This was a battle between truth and lies! Between good and evil!

“We’ll have to see,” she said, watching as the door opened and the new editor walked in. Annie raised a hand to wave to her, but Pam Hearst-Pulitzer was laser-focused on something on her laptop. Not a very good sign for Annie, who actually believed she was very charming. “I guess it’ll come down to her. Ugh, I wish I’d had more chance to talk to her, get a read on her vibe. You think we should say something?”

TOBY: When the door opened Toby shrank a little into his seat, grateful that the editor seemed to be distracted and was not looking at them. Or him, really. He wasn’t quite ready to be under the scrutiny of someone who had the power to make him unemployed.

He shrugged at Ms. Tremaine’s suggestion. It wouldn’t hurt to try, right? Shiftwell and Gabble weren’t in here to nay say against them, yet. If this meeting had been called to fire Ms. Tremaine and himself then what did they have to lose?

Well, they could actually dig themselves a deeper grave. If they were getting kicked then Toby would still want a recommendation from the Squire.

“...she seems…busy,” he said. “Besides, there’s nothing to say that we haven’t said with the work we’ve put in here.”

ANNIE

“That’s true,” Annie whispered back, still keeping her gaze on Hearst-Pulitzer, who was deep in concentration and hardly seemed to notice that her reports were obviously whispering about her.

It occurred to her that it might be a good idea to form a strategy, while they still had the chance. “We’ll present a united front, yeah? You and me, same team. No taking the blame, no blaming each other, just the truth.”

TOBY: He frowned, turning to look at Ms. Tremaine.

“What? No,” he shook his head. “No, it was my idea in the first place. If- and I’m not saying it will, but if it does come to that I…I think I should take whatever the punishment is. We can say I…I don’t know, that I forced you into it or something.”

The story started to form itself inside his head.

“Maybe that was always the case. That it was why I got you the job, because I knew you had more insight into the people of the town. And that’s why our articles are better than anything I’ve written here before,” Toby nodded to himself, like he had convinced himself and the idea solidifying for him. “I’ll be fine. You’re the one that has family here. A life.”

ANNIE

Annie’s stomach dropped. She was so used to Toby going along with her ideas. They’d really only disagreed once before. And Toby had been right, in the end, which was maybe a sign that she should listen to him now…

…And really, if it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have thought twice about accepting the offer. I did it, she would have told herself. I tricked someone into taking the fall for me, and I planned it from the beginning.

Except, she didn’t. Toby was her friend, not just a person who existed for her own benefit. Weird, right?

“But what if you get fired? We’re a team, Toby, we work better together,” Annie insisted. TOBY: “If I get fired, I get fired. It’s happened before. I’ll just have to find somewhere else to write again. That’s all,” he said, a bit of a sad smile lifting at the corners of his mouth briefly. As much as he had been longing for home, he couldn’t go back there for a job. And he didn’t want to leave Swynlake, either. Not when it felt like he was only just getting started. “Like I said, I doubt it will come down to that, but if it does I don’t think both of us should have to go. You deserve to be here- You’re meant to be here! Doing this. Writing. And it wouldn’t be fair to you since you’d probably stay in Swynlake, wouldn’t you?”

He took a breath, realizing his whispering had gotten a bit louder as his emotions got the best of him. Toby quickly glanced over at Hearst-Pulitzer to make sure she was still occupied.

She was.

He turned back to Ms. Tremaine, calmer.

“It’ll be easy to pin this on me. Maybe a bit below the belt since the Squire currently has more women employed, but I think the public has done a great job for us to be able to say people have less of a problem pointing fingers at you, a woman, than at me, a man who was equally as responsible, if not more. They can take the win on the front of having a harsher punishment on the male employee than the woman, who they still want to give a chance. As they should,” he added at the end with a little firm nod

ANNIE

Annie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Look, she was a feminist or whatever, but she wasn’t going to agree to Toby getting fired just because of that. Honestly, it sounded like he was making an excuse to make the fall. Which was touching, but…

Well, Annie really didn’t want him to get fired. She’d miss him, if he did. The job wouldn’t be half as fun without him.

She’d just opened her mouth to say exactly that when the door opened and the other women in question walked in. Annie glared at them. But when Hearst-Pultizer looked up from her laptop, Annie rearranged her features to a pleasant smile just as quickly.

“Oh good, you’re all here,” the editor said. “Everyone listen up, this is important.”

Annie swallowed hard.

AMY Amelia had gotten the email that the new editor wanted to meet with some of the staff this afternoon, so the meeting wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was the list of names specifically requested at this meeting. Toby Determined, Amelia Gabble, Holley Shiftwell, and Anastasia Tremaine.

Amy couldn’t comprehend what Holley and herself had to do with Annie and Toby… their little exposé was their own mess. And if Hearst-Pulitzer wanted to make the just and the self righteous shake hands and make up… well, Amy would give them a piece of her mind!

The blonde stood next to the guilty parties with her chin high and shoulders back, confident in her own resolve. She smiled smugly at Annie’s two second glare. Amy had nothing to worry about, especially not if someone that outed Magick’s against their will liked her or not.

“I absolutely agree, Ma’am,” she replied in dramatic earnesty.

HOLLEY:

Holley was furious about this whole ordeal. There was only so much she could do, though, with her hands tied behind her back. She thought about unleashing a virus on Annie and Toby’s computers, but Agent Wahed had warned her to stay out of it directly. The best thing she could do, he told her, was to continue to be active at the Squire so that she could keep abreast of any new situations and keep the RAS informed.

Still — Holley wished she could do more.

So, standing in the new editor’s office, Holley thought about what she could say that could let Hearst-Pulitizer know that she would not stand for this in the future. Luckily, Amy was also here, which meant that she had an ally. She’d seen Amy retweet the petition, and she knew that together they could back Hearst-Pulitzer up.

“I have never in my time as an editor been so ashamed,” said Hearst-Pulitizer. She shook her head. “This kind of behaviour is absolutely unacceptable from a prestigious newspaper.”

Holley tried to suppress her smile. Annie and Toby would finally get their comeuppance, and more importantly, Holley would not be faced with the moral dilemma of having to work with them.

“I am so deeply disappointed.” Hearst-Pulitizer swept her gaze over the four of them. “Holley and Amy — why on earth would you publicly take a stand against the article that has gotten the most clicks in my entire time at the Squire?!”

Wait —

“Wait —” Holley started to say.

“Do you understand what a big deal this is? This is single handedly making our ad revenue for the month. And you two go ahead and make it seem like something bad? This is the sort of thing that’s gonna save your jobs, girls!” Hearst-Pulitizer slapped down a hand on a stack of newspapers on her desk. “Local news is dying. That’s why I was brought on. The people don’t want cutesy write-ups about farm animals or town hall minutes. They want something that rocks their world! Annie and Toby delivered. This is exactly the direction I want the Squire to go in!”

TOBY: Toby did not turn to look at their colleagues as they joined the room. He kept his eyes forward and on the editor, hands clasping one another behind his back.

With the plan at the forefront of his mind he continued to work through it, trying to figure out what he was going to say in order to take the loss of employment with poise rather than falling down to his knees and begging for Hearst-Pultizer to please rethink. Not that he was above that by any mean, but it wouldn’t be what was needed in order to pull off the argument that he should be the only one to be let go.

His mouth pressed into a thin line at the sound of the words ashamed, unacceptable, and worst of all deeply disappointed.

Crikey. They were really in for it, weren’t they? Toby took in a deep breath, preparing to give his speech.

That was until Hearst-Pultizer didn’t say his name. And she didn’t say Ms. Tremaine’s name either.

She was, instead, addressing Gabble and Shiftwell. Toby’s eyes moved to the side, daring to minutely move his head in order to catch Ms. Tremaine’s gaze in an effort to confirm that she was hearing the same thing he was hearing because-

He flinched, attention quickly whipping back to Hearst-Pultizer as the strike of palm against paper tampered. Toby couldn’t believe it. But then again, yes he could. After all, this was what he had been saying all these years! All this time, he had been trying to pitch stories that he knew the public would bite on only to be shut down. He had never felt so vindicated in all his life.

ANNIE

Annie flinched at the harsh words, her eyes downcast and her stomach filled with dread at Toby’s impending dismissal. Maybe she could offer to take his place— but was she really brave enough to do that? Could she give up the one part of her job she actually enjoyed…?

And then Hearst-Pulitzer directed her ire at… not Toby? And not Annie either? It was Holley and Amy on the chopping block?!

It took everything in Annie not to burst out laughing in relief. And in glee! Amy and Holley with their stupid, smug little faces and their perfect blonde hair (they reminded her of Ella, honestly) were the losers today and Annie was the winner! And also Toby! They had been right all along!

She hazarded a glance at Toby before turning her attention back to the editor. “I couldn’t agree more, Pamela,” she said proudly. “I am just so happy you could see our vision.”

AMY Amy’s mouth was wide like a fish gasping for air. Suddenly all her fire and righteousness was doused as she stood for a moment, trying to make sense of how the tables turned. Annie’s smug face made her want to scream, Toby was still in the same state of shock that she and Holley were in. Almost like he knew what they did was wrong!

Finding her voice, “No…”

“No,” she shook her head, refusing to accept this verdict. “What they did was wrong! You can’t–”

Hearst-Pulitzer held up a finger and interrupted what would have been an amazing speech about Magick sensitivity. “Wrong? Ms. Gabble, in journalism there is no right or wrong! Only the truth and fact. What would have been wrong was if Toby and Annie sat on this information and did not shed light on the truth!”

Amy was incredulous. To be scolded and lectured about what journalism is, she could have scoffed in the editor’s face if she wasn’t still so shaken. Annie wasn’t even a journalist for the Squire! She was a damned columnist, she didn’t need to worry about fact checking her little opinion pieces that no one asked for! Amy crossed her arms in a huff and refused to meet anyone’s eyes other than to share an angry look with Holley.

HOLLEY:

Holley could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her ears buzzed. Her throat felt like it was closing. Was she — was she getting in trouble?!

Holley never got in trouble. From the time she was in school to her time at the RAS academy. For years, she’d been the example that the old editor Morales had pointed others to. Agent 100 complimented her paperwork all the time. Holley was the shining star, the beacon of hope, the perfect student. She never got in trouble!

Oh God, she was going to be sick. Her stomach clenched. She had a hard time looking at Hearst-Pulitzer right now.

But it would be worse to grovel and admit that she was wrong. Because she wasn’t. This was wrong! Outing a Magick was wrong. It went against everything the RAS stood for —

— which is why she had to stay here. It hit Holley suddenly. She was doing important work, keeping abreast of potentially dangerous situations. She was working on the inside. Granted, it wasn’t taking down a smuggling ring or a trafficking cartel. But it was something.

“In the future, everyone employed at this paper needs to support each other’s work 100%,” said Hearst-Pulitizer, crossing her arms over her chest. “What we say and do on social media reflects upon our organization as a whole. I know some of us have little side ventures.” She shot a glance at Amy here, and Holley gulped. “But that’s exactly why we need to present a united front — show the world that this is the new Squire and that we’re not afraid to tell the cold, hard truth. That’s what our readers want! That’s what sells papers! And you know we need that.”

Holley parted her lips. She needed to nod. Needed to force herself to nod and not snap at this vile woman. But she just stood, wide-eyed and shocked.

“Annie and Toby — you’re my all-stars.” Hearst-Pulizter pointed right at them. “Follow their lead, girls, and maybe we can save this dinky paper just yet.”

TOBY: Wow.

It was all Toby could think as the editor continued on. Wow. And not just five minutes ago he had been contemplating being unemployed all over again! How he was going to have to get fired in front of everyone, how Shiftwell and Gabble would no doubt be very pleased by this despite what pleasantries they’d exchanged with him over the years in the office. How he would have to walk out the door to his cubicle, pack up his stuff, and get back to his apartment to tell Lucky the news! And that he would no doubt be moving out soon, off to look for work elsewhere. It had all been such a clear image in his mind.

Instead he was living this. His ideas being shared and said aloud by someone with authority, witnessing his colleagues getting reprimanded, being called an all-star. He blinked as Hearst-Pulizter indicated to them, a small smile managing to appear on his mouth. Not that he wasn’t rather thrilled about this whole thing! He was just very surprised by it, and perhaps was as shocked as Shiftwell and Gabble were at how the tables had been turned.

He could think of nothing to say, either. His gratitude for still having a job and for being encouraged to move forward with more stories like this was so much that it hindered his ability to form proper thoughts let alone string together a series of words. And he was a writer, so he knew how hard words could be. So he just stood there, awestruck, and nodded.

ANNIE

Annie had told herself, had told Toby, that she didn’t really need anyone else’s approval. She knew she’d done a good job, and she trusted Toby’s instincts. That was all that really mattered.

But damn, if it didn’t feel good to hear Hearst-Pulitzer say that!

“Thank you, Pamela,” she said, excitement buzzing through her veins. Oh, it was intoxicating! Oh, it was like a drug! Oh, if only she could bottle those looks on everyone’s faces right now and keep it forever, for when she doubted herself and her journalism! Now, every time Annie worked on a story, she would think of this moment. God, she loved this job.

#toby #amy #holley #talk and talk and go viral #the squire

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eenochian · 2 years ago

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not to family-post on main…… so i’m putting it under a cut lol (it’s also just long af bc i needed to rant)

but, today is my father’s birthday. 53 years on this planet and he’s probably about to have the most miserable birthday of his life.

the dumbass cheated on his wife. three marriages and he’s managed to ruin every last one with cheating (amongst other things). no idea when she found out, but it was sometime after the 14th, at least. she’s already moved out of their house and is going to rent it to him since she owns it, apparently. i was woken up yesterday (it’s 8:08 am as of me posting this, i haven’t slept) with the news.

my father’s soon-to-be ex wife had my mom blocked throughout her entire relationship with my father. we knew he was feeding her some bullshit lies about my mom and what actually happened between them. he told his wife that my mom was turning my brother and i “against him” and making us hate his wife. meanwhile, my mom was practically begging my dad to introduce her to his wife, because she wanted to meet the woman who would be spending time around her children.

even before i was born, my father was just a disappointment… cheated on my mom while she was pregnant with my brother and claimed he was “feeling depressed and unwanted” whilst my mom was suffering from a cocktail of issues, was always unemployed or under-employed, cheated while she was pregnant with me, then couldn’t be assed to take care of his children while my mom was working and going to college full-time. she had to pay for daycare despite the asshole being unemployed.

she left him a couple weeks before i turned 4, i think. i don’t remember it very well cause i was so young, but i remember him yelling and punching the door she was standing in front of. broke his hand. she rightfully called him an idiot. my family laughs about it now, but i used to call him “my trince” – it was supposed to be “prince,” but i couldn’t say it properly y’know. my mom told me that he started crying because i looked at him and said “you’re not my trince anymore” lol. broke his heart, i guess.

the spring before i turned 6, my mom, brother, her boyfriend at the time, and i all moved from california to texas. my dad stayed in cali. my brother and i visited him for a week during the summer when i was 7, but that’s the only time we saw him until shortly before i turned 11.

we talked on the phone to keep in touch. i don’t remember how often we talked, i think weekly, but i do remember sprinting to the phone and feeling so giddy whenever he called… i just wanted to talk his ears off for hours, my father almost felt like a novelty throughout my childhood. i learned earlier this year that my mom often had to force him to call and talk to us.

i remember the day he moved out to texas. the beginning of my 6th grade year, i was about a month away from turning 11. my brother and i were talking to our mom, she said someone special was stopping by. the sun had already gone down, but it wasn’t too late in the night. we guessed our dad, she said we were wrong. she was lying, obviously, and we learned that after we got a knock on the door and my father was standing on the other side.

i remember crying. hugging him so tight. thinking that finally, finally i’d have my father in my life. instead of being a novelty, he’d just be there. he was living close by, too.

my mom’s then-boyfriend (the same one from when we moved) was horrible. he was an abusive, loud, mean, all-around ugly man. i had it the easiest since i was the youngest. i don’t remember much from him, just a lot of yelling. so, so, so much yelling. him standing over me, being the 6-foot 300-something pound guy he was, taking joy in making a little girl scared of him. he never put his hands on me, but the intimidation was enough.

i still can’t handle a man raising his voice or even getting angry around me. my stepdad knows about the trauma my mom, brother, and i share. my mom easily had it the worst. i still sometimes refuse to acknowledge that i have trauma, even after being told by my mom and brother that i do. the first time my stepdad got angry and raised his voice – he was trying to install a transition slip on crooked floors because my mom and i kept cutting our feet on the edge of the carpet, got frustrated, slammed his hammer down and yelled – i was standing in the kitchen a few feet away….. i left my breakfast in the microwave and pretty much ran to my room.

i didn’t know why i started crying and struggling to breathe while talking to my brother until my mom came in a few minutes later. it was the first time she said the words “you have trauma” to me. she told me the next day that my stepdad cried after they went to bed because he felt so awful over scaring me. we joke about it now, but it’s been 3 years and he still feels horrible whenever we talk about it. i feel bad that he feels bad. my mom says we’re both silly.

back to the main point, though…. my mom finally managed to kick that bastard out shortly after i turned 11. it was midnight on a school night. my brother ended up climbing into my bed because i was crying from listening to all the yelling. her ex tried coming into our bedroom after my mom came in to grab something of his that we had in our closet. i remember watching her fight to hold that door closed and keep him out as he tried to talk to us.

she called my dad to come guard our door while she finished packing up all his stuff and throwing it out. my dad managed to do a 20-minute drive in, like, 10 minutes. maybe less, i can’t remember, but it was fast. her ex tried picking a fight with my dad, things nearly got physical, but my dad stayed right in front of our door. he had work the next day, but he still rushed over to keep us safe.

he was in my life a decent amount after that. we’d spend weekends with him, i’d text him daily, he’d take me and my brother to the movies, out to dinner, we’d play games and sing our lungs out in the car together.

he also dated over 20 women in a single year. he introduced us to at least a quarter of them and insisted that every single one was “the one.” he’d ignore us for the sake of whatever woman he was with. then, he’d come crawling back once the relationship inevitably fell apart. he told my mom that he could pay child support or “have money to spend time with the kids” – meanwhile, he’s always made more money than her. he couldn’t put us on his health insurance because it was “too expensive,” meanwhile my mom was working two jobs (in secret, she never told us about the second job until after she lost it) and making herself sick just trying to take care of us.

when i was 14, he had to move back to california because of his work. i thought him crying while telling us was proof that he cared… until i found out that he wasn’t going to tell us at all. he told our mom, but didn’t want to tell my brother and i until he was about to move. my mom had to threaten to tell us herself if he didn’t do it.

he visited around christmas. he was engaged to a woman he barely knew who happened to live in the same state. my brother and i thought he was there to see us. turns out, all he wanted to do was see her. my mom had to force him to spend time with us. i didn’t know this until years later.

after that engagement fell through and he managed to move back to texas… he met his current wife. he was also living even closer, in the same fucking apartment complex as us. the happy feeling over him being so close didn’t last. his wife (then-girlfriend) was…. nice. we tried not to get attached because we thought it wouldn’t last, like usual. i think i was 15 or 16 at the time.

we ended up moving in with my stepdad, who lived about 45 minutes away. my dad ended up moving in with his wife. we lived an hour away from him, i think. we stopped seeing him as often because the problems only continued to grow. his wife only encouraged him and blindly took his side in everything, too.

about 2 weeks before my 18th birthday. my father took my brother and i to the movies. he brought up how close my birthday was and asked if we wanted to go out to dinner to celebrate. we said yes, of course. he asked if his wife could come, since they had just gotten married about a week ago. i said yes, of course. i didn’t mind sharing the celebration. i remember excitedly telling my mom about it the second we got home.

a couple days before my birthday, my father texts to confirm the plans…… suddenly, we aren’t celebrating my birthday. no, no, the dinner was to celebrate their marriage and my father’s new office, and it “just so happened” that my birthday was around the same time, so we were celebrating that, too. he denied it when we said the whole dinner was planned because of my birthday, even though my whole household remembered it being that way. i cancelled the plans.

my cat got really sick right after my birthday. it was just a stomach bug that she recovered from within a day after taking her to the vet and getting her rehydrated (plus some appetite stimulants), but we thought for a minute that it might be her time. it was the first time i had to face the thought of death. my father tried to make new plans and, when i told him that we didn’t want to leave her even though we knew she was okay, he didn’t care. zero empathy. we never made any plans after that.

i think i’ve only seen him once since that movie. august 2021. he stopped by to drop something off for my brother earlier this year, stayed for a few minutes to talk to us. we hugged, i cried after he left.

my phone’s been having issues for some months now. it can’t charge properly. my mom and stepdad bought me a wireless charger that fixed that issue, but when my brother and i messaged our father about getting new phones (since my bro was also having issues with his), my father decided to say no and accuse us of only coming to him for money.

mind you, paying for our phones and making sure we had working phones was literally the last promise he made to us. he never paid child support, so he and my mom worked out a deal. he pays her car insurance until she has a paid off car, he pays for my bro’s and my phones, she forgives the rest of the several thousand dollars he owes her. he took her car on the first say of my senior year of high school. he refuses to get us new phones unless we pay for it.

i’m aware of how spoiled i sound. my phone works just fine, even if it is slower and has a broken charging point. my issue isn’t with that… it’s just the fact that he’s managed to break every. single. promise. he’s ever made to us. not a single one has been kept. not one. my mom told him she’d take care of it and us, like she always has. he’s just paying for the insurance until we get new phones atp.

i sent him a message pouring my heart out. a lot of it was pent-up anger from years of trying and trying, giving him chance after chance, and getting zero results. he read the message and didn’t respond. a couple days later, i sent him another. i just felt defeated at that point. i begged and begged him to finally care, and what do i get in response?

“I understand what you’re saying. Things are not always as they seem. Maybe one day we can sit down and truly listen and understand each other but it won’t be in a text. I love you no matter what you might think or feel.”

right. yeah. “maybe one day” AKA “when i feel like dealing with this” which is never. i cry and beg him to change… and his response is to say that MAYBE one day we’ll deal with it. and he moved on. my first message was 1,623 words. my second was 784. and i got jack shit in return.

it doesn’t matter what i say or do. he’s destroyed my self-confidence. he’s the source of my insane abandonment and attachment issues. i’m convinced no man will ever love me because of him – if my own father can’t, then why would anyone else? i get so stressed out and worried that it makes me sick; my family thinks i have ulcers, and he’s the #1 trigger of them. i’ve had panic attacks over him. i’ve thrown up from it. my mom said my depression getting so much worse is probably linked to him.

and, despite all the bullshit…. i’m still staring at my phone debating on texting him happy birthday. wondering if i should reach out and console him over the marriage he destroyed. i don’t want him to be alone, even if it is his own doing. i’m terrified of something happening to him. what if he has a health issue or injury and needs someone to call 911? what if he’s depressed? what if it gets so bad that he kills himself? what if he keels over and dies tomorrow? what if, what if, what if… it’s all i can think about.

my family says me worrying over him despite it all just means i’m a good person. their primary concern if my father taking advantage of me – of my kindness and my concern for him. my brother has him blocked, he’s not giving our father any more chances. i know i shouldn’t. he’ll just throw me away once he finds another woman, which he probably already has, considering he cheated on his wife in the first place. he has that habit; messaging other women when he senses a relationship going south or gets bored. moving on before it’s even over so he doesn’t have to face loneliness.

i don’t know how to feel. my dad’s wife reached out to my mom to clear the air and apologize. my brother celebrated the split with his friends. my stepdad said it was deserved. i agree, but……. i just can’t stop worrying. about everything. i wish i could. my father doesn’t deserve the tears i’m still shedding, or the lump and bile building in my throat, or the tightness in my chest, or the space in my thoughts… i hate it. i don’t know what to do anymore.

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fictionplumis · 5 years ago

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Witcher modern AU where Julian Alfred Pancratz, who has a B.A. from Oxford in Philosophy, minoring in language--earned it all by himself even if his parents did technically pay his way in in the first place. They were hoping he would study law, he didn’t, and they’re vaguely supportive but absolutely don’t understand why he won’t at least go back and get his master’s, maybe teach or something?

But no. No, this idiot, on a whim one day towards the beginning of college, decided that playing guitar was boring so he went and bought himself a lute off Amazon and taught himself how to play through YouTube tutorials and the second he got his B.A. he fucked off to a Ren Faire and was like, “Behold! In my free time I’ve rewritten all of these pop songs in ye Old English and taught myself how to play them on a lute.” And he’s pretty much hired on the spot because he looks the look and walks the walk and has all of this boundless energy and unrestrained confidence. He goes by Jaskier at work and eventually just starts introducing himself as that outside of work because whatever, he likes it better than Julian. It means buttercup and flowers are pretty and he writes a ballad about it to play on the job.

His parents just. Don’t understand. He’s young, though, and he’s having fun, and he’s making money, so they don’t actually have a problem with it but they Don’t Get It.

It just gets worse when Jaskier meets Geralt.

Yennefer and Geralt are this on again, off again thing and during one of their off periods when Yen isn’t too angry at Geralt to refuse to talk to him, she drags him to the Ren Faire all dressed up in her finished sorceress costume and she’s made Geralt wear this nice doublet and leather pants and pull his hair back. Geralt is like, “Okay, fine.” And he lets Yen drag him around all she wants and Jaskier sees him and is instant heart eyes, spends the whole time following them around with the worst love ballads, and Yennefer finds it HILARIOUS.

When Jaskier gets the chance to actually talk to them he finds out that Geralt technically doesn’t have a job, he just does odd work wherever he can find it which makes him some weird jack-of-all-trades. Pest problems? He knows weird tricks to deal with that. AC broke? He can probably fix it. Remodeling your home? Geralt can probably rebuild the damn thing from scratch. Radiator broken? Just pay for the parts and he’ll replace it for half the service of a normal mechanic with none of the up-selling bullshit.

Jaskier is like, “Perfect because we’ve actually been looking for a handy man around here since our last once decided that traveling on the road wasn’t for him, SOOO let me sweet talk some people.”

Geralt’s not sure but then Yen finds out that she would get free admission and demands he does it, so like, sure, okay.

Then a few months into it one of the knights gets injured and they’re like FUCK who can we train with a sword on short notice who looks like they could actually handle a sword? All eyes turn to Geralt. Who is also like, “...Fuck.”

He’s not a good performer. The knights are supposed to make all these grand speeches about honor and valor and they give the script to Geralt and he reads three lines and then just doesn’t read the rest, because whatever, this is a temporary thing anyway until the other knight heals so he doesn’t care about fucking it up. He’s only doing it because Jaskier gave him puppy dog eyes and has already written five ballads about his imaginary conquests so when the sword fighting and jousting stuff comes up and the other knight makes their big long speech and it comes to Geralt he just shrugs and goes, “I’m here to fight, not talk.”

And the crowd loves it. They lose their shit. Geralt does NOT get to go back to being a general handy man, much to his annoyance, and he can’t walk through the Faire without people constantly stopping him to take pictures with him. They go nuts over this stoic, reluctant knight at the Ren Faire who only vaguely smiles if you happen to catch him having lunch with the bard.

Jaskier brings him home for the holidays. This big, imposing man who their son got hired on at the fair as a handyman because he was unemployed at the time, no formal education, stupidly good with a sword, doesn’t talk much, is all over social media scowling in selfies with people and covered in dirt. These poor middle-to-upper-class parents desperately trying to understand why their Oxford graduate son is so happy living life as a Ren Faire bard dating the gruff handyman turned knight, they just Don’t. Understand.

Part 2

#the witcher #geraskier #gerskier #gerlion #geraltjaksier

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snezfics-n-shit · 3 years ago

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Sicktember Day 28: Chronic Illness

Fandom: Ace Attorney Characters: Godot, Phoenix Wright, Apollo Justice, Trucy Wright Notes: Godot receives an unexpected visit from the staff of Wright Anything Agency. Set just after the events of Apollo Justice, there are some spoilers for 4-4, but I tried to keep them at a minimum. Godot is still in prison but almost on his way out, granting him privileges such as unfamiliar faces greeting him in the infirmary. He’s not yet sure if that’s a good thing.

If Godot could speak to himself seven years ago, he would have said being in prison made him a lucky man. When the lingering effects of the poison took hold, which they did often, there was at least a prison infirmary not at all far from his cell. He was starting to get used to the convenience of it all, so much so that his rapidly approaching release date felt like something to dread rather than look forward to.

If he could speak to himself seven years ago, he might have even warned not to be so hard on Wright. Not only had he forgiven the man for crimes Godot felt himself guilty of before projecting them onto the closest person to Mia he could find, but it wouldn’t even be a year before Phoenix Wright: the man who seemed unstoppable, would have his entire world fall apart beneath him.

Sure, Wright wasn’t poisoned, and as far as Godot knew, the man hadn’t lost a lover to murder, but Godot swore he could see himself in the newspaper image just above the headline declaring Wright’s career was over.

If there was one thing he and his past self could agree on, however, was that Phoenix Wright, quite frankly, looked like shit.

“Look, Polly! I think I see Mr. Gavin in the hallway!” The peppy girl in the magician’s garb called out by one of the indoor windows. Thank God she didn’t appear to be another entertainer sent to ‘lift spirits.’ “Do you think he’s here for–”

“We’re here for Mr. Godot, remember?” The red suited man, who apparently had a really weird name, redirected the girl’s attention to Godot’s bed. Damn, maybe she was going to subject him to an hour of magic tricks meant to entertain children after all.

“Heh, kids, right?” Phoenix had a grin that looked permanently plastered on his face from the moment Godot saw him enter the infirmary. What did he have to be happy for? Unemployed, followed in by a couple of oddly dressed strangers, wearing a hat that Godot’s heightened sense of smell could tell needed a good wash.

“What do you think I know about kids?” Godot asked before he broke into a fit of coughing muffled by his hand. “What are–” he hadn't finished coughing yet, “what are you doing here? Did you get some kind of traveling circus troupe together now that you’re not a lawyer?”

“Daddy helps me run the Wright Anything Agency!” The strangely dressed girl piped up, alternating from standing on her feet to balancing on her toes. Godot wasn’t even going to ask what she meant by ‘Daddy;’ it was probably best he didn’t know. “He brought me and Polly here to meet you and cheer you up since you’re sick!”

“Well, if you wanted to use the fact I’m only in the hospital and not,” Godot waved his hand towards the trio, “doing whatever it is you’re doing now, it may just work.”

“Well, Polly’s a lawyer like Daddy was!” The girl boasted as if this ‘Polly’ was her child. “And Daddy introduced a new jurist system into the courts!”

Great, so they were here to brag. Godot sank back into lying down with a weak grumble.

“If you come back to the prosecutor’s office upon your release, Mr. Godot, you might get to see the MASON system in action. It’s really impressive, if not a little confusing.” ‘Polly’ said. “Or if you want, you could get into defense again.” He mumbled something about needing an extra hand in cleaning the office.

“It’s called a MASON system?”

“Yeah!” The girl beamed. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean, but,” she put her right hand to her chin in thought, “Daddy said when he pitched it to the judge, he loved the name! It’s judge-approved!”

“Speaking of judge-approved…” Phoenix started, digging through his pockets and pulling out a surprisingly neat envelope, without a wrinkle in sight. “Here. We got everyone we could find at the courthouse to sign this. It was Trucy’s idea.” He gestured to the girl. So her name was Trucy? ‘Trucy and Polly…’ yup, they were definitely some kind of circus troupe, at least part time.

Godot was surprised to see how many names he recognized on the card. Even the wild mare herself signed it. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself imagining her whipping the ever-living hell out of Wright before finally giving in to his request.

“Mr. Wright said you couldn’t see red on a white background, so everyone used black pen.” The man with the strange name pointed out.

Godot had to give that statement the benefit of the doubt, since he wouldn’t be able to tell otherwise, but he made a mental note to ask his cellmate to check once the medical staff decided he wasn’t teetering on the edge of death if he were to leave his bed.

“You like it?” Trucy looked at Godot with a wide smile.

“Not bad at all.” Godot couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

At least it wasn’t magic tricks…

“I almost forgot! Daddy said I could perform my latest magic tricks for you!”

Dammit.

#sicktember 2022 #snez attorney #my writing #another one in the same day? wowzers #now I take a break I'm pooped

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hopekiedokie · 4 years ago

Text

Mall is Life | INTRO : She’s Broke, He’s Broke, We’re All Broke!

Summary: Your dad thinks it’s best for you to pay off the credit card that you just maxed out. Meaning, it’s time for you to finally get your very first job…at the mall. As a true blue spoiled daughter from a very rich family, what could possibly happen? Form a labour union and overthrow the oppressive government with 7 other underpaid and overworked guys??? Or maybe just form a bond with them and have the best time of your life?

Pairing: bts x reader

Genre: mall!au, lowkey a sitcom, fluff, eventual angst, and a whole lot of pure crack

Word count: 5.3k+

Notes: As I’m doing final rewrites for this, I overheard my co-teacher call one of our students a “crack” and I honestly have never related hard to a student. Anyways, transferring this from gdocs to tumblr took sooooo long. I literally aged 10 years. I didn’t think writing in this style would be such a pain so I really do hope you enjoy this! Keep safe and hang on while the world still seems like it’s on its way to destruction.

Posted on: 8th of Jan, 2021

— • masterlist | Character Guide | INTRO | next • —

Red

Red is all you see.

Your vision has been clouded by the colour red since the moment you stepped inside the mall.

Sale season is upon you and red tags are everywhere!

Buy one get one for a girlfriend sized “boyfriend t-shirt”, a free cookie if you get 7 drinks, 5% off on your next purchase from Kucci and… Gasp! 75% off for a light sabre handheld immersion blender???

Do you even cook or watch Star Trek or whatever it’s called? Heck no.

bUT IT’S MORE THAN HALF OFF and it looks cool so might as well get it.

Right?

You saunter off towards the sights of free or marked down signs to start making damages.

“Ehem.”

The sound of your best friend, Taehyung’s voice, freezes you in place and you feel like a kid caught in the act of stealing a candy.

Literally, you have both your hands in front of you with your mouth open and watering.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” His hands are placed on his hips, like a slightly inconvenienced Karen.

“Oh, uh...I was just, you know!? About to admire the general splendour!”

He was like, ya right sweetie.

“Shut up. This isn’t a Jane Austen book.”

Well, one can dream.

And lowkey, you were kinda expecting him to not get the reference.

…or even understand what you just said.

Damn.

You really need to give Taehyung some credit.

He is after all, your best friend and that is an achievement in itself.

“Focus, y/n. FOCUS. We’re here on a mission, don’t get distracted.”

Ugh, right.

Reality hit you again like a ton of bricks.

“And as if you can afford anything! Unless, you’re in for some service water.”

You scoff hard.

Though he isn’t lying.

See, the thing is, your family is rich.

Like rich 𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑯.

Like “rent a whole stadium for your dad’s morning run” rich

You, alone, though?

ʰᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵉ

“Sorry, you’re absolutely right. We’re here for one thing only and that is to find a job! We’re not leaving until we get one.”

And that’s what you did for the next two hours

Job hunting

You might be wondering, “If we're so rich then why are we looking for a job?”

Well kids, let me tell you a quick story.

Here’s what happened

A week ago, you had probably the most embarrassing yet most eye opening experience of your life.

You were shopping

(like duh do you have anything else to do?)

And your credit card got…

Wait for it…

…………….

🚫DECLINED🚫

◉.◉

Like, that can happen????

Next thing you know, you’re on the phone with your dad and he is MAD

You don’t even know why he is so pressed about it.

Okay, so you maxed out one of his seemingly endless supply of credit cards.

BIG DEAL.

It’s not like he lost a bunch of money.

Maybe to a normal person, yeah…

BUT to you guys?

Come on! He can earn that money back in like two days.

Besides, he always goes on saying that he'd willingly give everything for you, his one and only princess.

bUT NOoOOoo! He has to teach you to be rEsPoNsIbLe with money! You need to be a 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏.

"What? You think I'm a money making machine here?"

Well, tbh he kinda is.

"You think money grows on trees?"

Well, technically, money is paper so...ya it kinda does.

"I don't slave around just so you could plunge yourself in all of your whims!"

Uh, actually.

You kinda do though if we refer back to your whole willingly-give-everything-to-you shtick.

So that wasn't real, huh?

ＡＬＬＭＥＮＤＯＩＳＬＩＥ.

smh

Taehyung, on the other hand...

Well, his mother’s old but rich sugar daddy just recently passed away and unfortunately all his money and prized possessions were inherited by his one and only beloved son.

All they got was a couple of stupid jewelry, which did allow them to pay for a new (less glamorous) apartment, but still

Eh.

What a complete disappointment.

11+ years of being a sugar baby, all for nothing.

So now it’s back to the slums for the both of them.

Sad reacs for a fallen warrior.

I’m talking about Tae’s mother, not the sugar daddy...

THOUGh rip for him. Uh,,,,

He’ll be missed? I guess???

(1 like of this post = 1 respect for him)

DW about his mother though. She doesn’t seem quite fazed by it.

“This is why if you find a rich old bastard, make sure he doesn’t have any kids. That or have an affair with their kid. Oh well, on to the next one.” She told you and Tae during the funeral.

It’s been three months since.

She’s currently working at a hair salon and also,,,,

Taehyung thinks she’s seeing someone again cause she’s been using her designated “𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔” parfum.

WHICH you still don’t know if you should be impressed or be concerned about.

Nonetheless, you respect the hustle of this woman. ✊✊✊✊

Unfortunately, her efforts are still not enough to satisfy their expensive needs so that brings us to the present situation.

Actually, it couldn’t have been more perfect though!

You and your best friend coincidentally just happen to be in the same dilemma.

Kind of

Well, not really

Plus, it’s not really the most pleasant circumstance bUT STILL

The point is, you’re in this together and that’s enough for the both of you.

:’)

“Ugh, this totally blows.” Taehyung says as you both sit on one of the food court booths.

“Which one, us not getting any jobs yet or the fact that we’re hanging at the food court?”

“Get used to it, princess. Honestly, you'll find that the food here isn't as disgusting as you think they are." He says as he fishes for his phone in his man purse.

"Well, at this rate, I won't be able to get used to it since I sTILL haven't found a job. Why are the good stores so demanding? Like, an intensive classroom and in-store training only to have a possibility to get hired??? To think that I'm a loyal Louie Button customer!"

(A/n: This is actually a real procedure for Louis Vuitton, at least in my own experience. But I only applied and never went through with the training cause I figured that it just ain't for me.)

You continue ranting your little heart out about how you could sue these stores for unfair treatment.

Taehyung, though, has long tuned you out and has pointed his full attention to his phone.

This is turning out to be a lot more disastrous than what he anticipated.

So he needs to phone a friend in.

Orrrrr a couple.

He's getting desperate, okay??

The entire spring collection was practically screaming out to him when they entered Kucci.

He's a 𝓚𝓾��𝓬𝓲 𝓫𝓸𝔂 through and through.

He hasn't missed a single Kucci season collection in years.

IN YEARS, PEOPLE!

He can feel his right eye twitch at this blasphemy.

"I'm telling you! These stores are absolutely ungrateful-hEY! Are you even listening??"

"No. I thought that was obvious the second I whipped my phone out."

( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)

Rude

He didn't even try to deny it.

"You know, I really don't need you to be mean to me right now."

"Sorry y/n but this…" He lifts his phone up, "is more important right now."

What could possibly be more important than your current problem??

If you don't leave today with any form of productivity, you just might have to sell the entirety of your closet.

And we all know that ain't happening.

"By 'that', you mean?"

His phone vibrates a couple of times, indicating that he just received a bunch of messages.

He instantly opens them, disregarding you once again.

I-

Seriously, thIS bOy!

"Hello???? I'm still here and we're still hideously unemployed!"

He looks up to you with a smile that seems a tad bit too eerie.

Okay, this is somewhat alarming ngl.

"I called in some reinforcements."

Reinforcements... Huh?

What's that supposed to mean?

You stare at him with scrunched brows and mouth slightly agape.

And as if on cue, a male voice rings from behind you.

"Tae! We're here!"

"Jimin! Seokjin hyung!"

Ohhhhhhh

*Looks at the camera*

Them.

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

For everyone's information, Taehyung grew up a hair away from the poverty line.

He was in his preteen years when their family found success through his mother's sugar daddy.

He didn't grow up rich whICH there's NOthing wrong WiTh THAT.

A person's financial status does not define them.

Taehyung's friends, however, already have a collective definition in your head.

One word

༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ MESS™

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

A hot mess you are so not willing to become a part of.

Tae keeps them away from you because he knows that they are not the type of people you would associate yourself with.

Which is why you've never met any of them.

...Until today.

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

Guess being besties with a broke Taehyung means it only makes sense that you finally meet them.

♫︎dUN dUn- ok that's enough of that.

"We got the Code 17 message. I can't believe I'll ever get that from you. This is history, man! We need to celebrate!" Someone says accompanied by what sounds like someone wiping a window.

You look at Taehyung with a very displeased look.

May god and every higher being out there give you strength.

He doesn't even look the slightest bit bothered by what might be one of the boldest crossovers to ever happen.

Also, "Code 17"??? Wth?

"What's wrong? You never ask to meet at the food court… And who's this with--oh." A different, softer voice talks this time.

"You guys remember my bestie, right? Y/n? Well, I think it's time you guys finally meet."

From behind you, Seokjin and Jimin share a slightly wary yet excited look.

Jimin, being the natural people lover that he is, instantly thinks that he's about to have another best friend.

From what he's heard from Taehyung, you two are slightly alike, being a total softie.

So don't be surprised if a montage of things like the two of you going on picnics at the mall garden or watching the premiere of the next Disney movie plays in his head.

Seokjin, on the other hand, being the woman lover that he is, instantly thinks that he's about to score big time.

He's heard a lot about you from Tae but the only thing that stuck (and pretty much the only thing that matters) is that you are HELLA rich.

$ ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 $

So are we even surprised that what he imagines is him breezing through the luxury section of the mall, with his personal butlers in tow, and having everyone swoon at him?

“Y/n,” Taehyung gives you a pointed look as if telling you to be nice. “Meet Seokjin hyung and Jimin, two of my other best friends.”

Alright, you heard that these people work here at the mall.

So you’re gonna have to suck it up if it means being stuck with them for god knows how long.

You just hope they have some level of bearableness.

(Oh and some form of acceptable fashion taste too please, thank you very much!)

As much as you're not in the mood to smile, you still plaster on the sweetest one you can muster and turn around to face the two----

(o.O)

oh oh oh oh ho ho ho ho

Hello

hELLO indeed.

One of them has a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slim fit trousers, and a brown newsboy cap like a cherry on top.

He's also wearing a brown apron with a small name tag that says 𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷.

The other guy's more casual with his baby pink t-shirt, french tucked into his black ripped skinny jeans.

Personally, you wouldn’t really call them amazing outfits…

bUT SWEET BABY JESUS ARE THEY DOING THINGS.

GREAT THINGS

(Tbh maybe it’s their handsome faces that do it for you)

"Hi, I'm Jimin! It's very nice to finally meet you."

He extends his hand and you take it in a heartbeat because my god that smile.

Wooooooooooo

Now, that's what greets you into heaven.

"Tae says a lot of good things about you and I think- oof."

Cute pink shirt guy (rudely) shoves him to the side.

Jimin almost topples to the ground and it makes you want to stand and check up on him.

The poor cutie.

For some reason, you feel like Taehyung and pink shirt guy get along well.

"AND I'M Seokjin!"

This time, Seokjin swiftly takes your hand without any warning which leaves you feeling flustered.

“Umm… Nice to meet you..?” You manage to politely croak out.

He gives your hand a kiss and then drops you a sultry wink.

Thank god you're sitting right now.

You'd be a lying fool to say that that didn't make your knees weak.

But ngl, that’s a face that definitely greets you into hell.

Like, no offense to his handsome face but you are sure there’s something completely devious going on underneath.

No one can change your mind on that.

"OKAY! Enough introductions, we’ll have plenty of time for that later... Where are the others??”

“Hoseok hyung said that he's with Jungkook and they're on their way to get Namjoon hyung." Jimin says as he fixes his hat that slightly slid off.

"Well, they better hurry!"

Taehyung DEFINITELY did not have any reasons to cut your introductions off.

He just did not like how you are practically drooling over Jimin and Seokjin.

He’s nOT JEALOUS OR ANYTHING

It’s just...

It’s not like you’ve never been close to any hot guys before.

Uh hello???

HE’S HOT

And you’re with him 24/7

Wait…

Do you even think he’s hot???

Okay now that’s a thought he never considered before.

Damn bro

Now Tae’s having an existential crisis…

anD hE’s dEfiniTEly NOT jEALous!!!

ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

"WE'RE HERE!"

All four of you direct your heads to the sound of a new voice and you start to think that Taehyung might actually be playing a joke on you.

Come on!

THREE 👏 MORE 👏 HOT 👏 GUYS 👏

???

This can't be real.

This is literal heaven!

Gasp!

Are.

You.

DEAD?!

Maybe you're right about Jimin being what greets you into heaven!

It all makes sense.

“Dude, we came as soon as we could. We even pulled Namjoon out of his rabbit hole.” The handsome one wearing a sports jersey says.

“This better be important. I didn’t even get to ask permission to take a break! I’m supposed to be stocking utensils right now.” The handsome one wearing an atrocious outfit of a bright blue shirt and a much brighter yellow pants chimes in.

The handsome one wearing loose fitting jeans, a plaid button up and a black t-shirt underneath just stayed at the sidelines not saying anything.

Out of all of them, you think he’s the most stylish one.

Your eyes meet while you are assessing his outfit but he instantly looks away.

A noticeable blush blooms on his cheeks and you almost swoon.

Awww he’s extra cute.

“Yeah, cause organising cutlery is more important than a friend in a literal crisis.” Taehyung says in a sarcastic tone.

“So what are we doing here?”

“What is this ‘crisis’ you are referring to?”

“Yo, who is she?”

Namjoon, Jin, and handsome jersey boy all talk at the same time.

Ugh you need a massage.

Being surrounded by these broke handsome men is making you lightheaded.

“This is Y/n. You know, my other best friend.”

“Oh, your money buddy.” Handsome jersey boy butts in.

Uh EXCUSE YOU, WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

You scoff hard and loud.

Taehyung clears his throat and you thought he was going to make a comment defending you or something.

Oh honey, you are wrong.

Because for the nth time today, he just brushes you off.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyways, Guys, meet Y/n. Y/n, this is Hoseok hyung, Namjoon hyung, and Jungkook.”

You didn't think it'd be possible but for the first time ever, you so badly want to rip someone's hair out.

And not just someone, it's Taehyung.

Normally, a sassy, moody, rude boy Taehyung doesn’t affect you at all.

But then again, his negative vibes were never really directed to you.

And given the current circumstance, you’re also not in the best mood as well.

So you aren't as inviting as you usually are when you shook hands with the three boys.

Somehow, even their overflowing handsomeness did not do anything for you now.

Your presence, however, did something to the three boys.

AND I MEAN A LOT.

Confused, attracted, intimidated, confused, in awe, slightly scared, nervous, confused, hungry…

What? Hoseok hasn’t had lunch and coincidentally, he started feeling his tummy rumble when he looked at you.

…..

Fun fact: Hoseok is DEFINITELY NOT A CANNIBAL NOR HE EVER PLANS ON BEING ONE.

If ever you were thinking...

“Okay, so here’s the sitch.” Tae starts to explain your situation and everyone listens to him intently.

Little did you all know, the final member of the friend group just arrived at the food court and is now walking towards where you all are.

It wasn’t difficult to spot your group with Namjoon’s obnoxiously brightly coloured towering self and the few girls hanging around.

Probably Jimin’s fanclub.

“And so, here we are!” Tae finishes, keeping everyone updated.

"Wow, so you two are looking for an actual job? Like, here? At the mall??" A very baffled Seokjin asks.

Tae rolls his eyes.

"Yes. Is that really hard to believe?"

"Actually, yes. It is."

Another male voice is heard coming from someplace.

“Yoongi hyung!”

Oh great! Another one.

Surely, this guy’s not that interesting.

I mean, what are the fricking odds that he’s also an immaculate being??

You turn around and your mouth drops to the floor.

No no no no no.

No way!

Another freaking gOOD LOOKING GUY HAS WALKED UP TO YOUR GROUP.

Okay, this is getting unbelievable now.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Like, where and how on earth did Taehyung manage to get and round up SIX insanely good looking guys??

What is this? Are you on The Bachelorette??

Wait no

It's like Oprah!

And instead of cars, she's giving away handsome men

You get a hot Asian man, you get a hot Asian man, you all get a hot Asian man!

OR MAYBE

Are you on MTV Punk'd?????

Statistically speaking, a hot guy can have two or maybe three equally hot best friends

BUT SIX???

ARE YOU KIDDING?

Is Taehyung like Thanos? Collecting the six infinity stones?

Thanos? lol.

If anything, he's more like Henry VIII with his six wives.

“So you guys didn’t even wait for me, huh?”

Yoongi, oh so casually, just takes a seat beside you

Without even giving you a single glance or whatnot.

“I didn’t know you'd be here at the mall today?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “It’s a free country, I can be here whenever I want to be.”

Well, can’t argue with that logic.

The mall is practically your second home at this point.

“... Also… uTunes is hiring and uh… I’m applying...”

You don’t understand why but everyone else looks either shocked or annoyed at Yoongi’s announcement...

Are you missing something here?

“Man, you need to give it up! That place can suck it.”

Yoongi gives Seokjin one of the scariest glare you’ve ever seen.

It could rival against your dad’s famous death glares that he gives to his incompetent subordinates.

Namjoon shakes his head disapprovingly, “You’re applying there again?? I can’t believe it.”

Yes, again.

This is going to be the seventh time he’s applying at uTunes Records, the most popular music shop there is.

So many people flock to it even though we’re already in the digital age.

But he doesn’t question it.

All he cares about is getting a job there because the employees get to play their own music in the store.

Do you know how much of a popularity boost that is?

A CRAP TON.

On top of that, one of the employees gets a chance to get signed by a record label every year.

And if you're not awarded by that chance, you can still meet agents and get signed through their many parties.

Because of that, so many people also apply for a job there.

But they unfortunately have such high standards which is why even after three years, he still hasn’t passed their vibe check.

"Listen, seven's a lucky number. I have great feelings about this one. Besides, I've built up a strong résumé. Winning one of uTunes' own rookie dj contests must mean something, right? They can't not take me!"

Wow.

You've only known Yoongi for a solid three minutes, but you can already tell that he's quite passionate about this.

"Hyung, all we're saying is that maybe you should consider doing something else? You could do so much more than run after that store." Jimin says and pats Yoongi's hand a couple of times.

"All of you perfectly know getting a job there could quite possibly set my music career!"

"Is that really it? Or is it because of a certain Daphne??" Seokjin teases him.

The rest just mutters an "ooh" or an "aah".

You seem to have been turned into an accessory.

You so cannot relate to anything they've talked about since Yoongi came.

It's like you're at one of your dad's social gatherings and all you can do is smile and nod.

"ANYWAY," Yoongi interjects in their teasing. "So Tae, you're also looking for a job?"

Jeez FINALLY.

Something you can talk about that involves you.

It felt like you were just back home watching some random show that doesn't require your input.

Taehyung gives an overly dramatic heavy sigh.

"Unfortunately, yes. Y/n and I both need one badly. But all the stores had been rejecting us left and right. Like, the audacity!" Taehyung rants all over again.

Jimin, listens to him intently as if he hasn't heard all of this before.

Seokjin seems to have been entertaining the surrounding ladies for a while now.

[by giving some ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ and some (•̀ᴗ-)☞ ]

Across the table, Namjoon complains to Hoseok about getting in trouble with his boss.

Jungkook, well, he's just staring at the beautiful pizza this kid next to you guys is eating. (Someone's hungry too, okay?)

While Yoongi just openly stares at you.

Welp.

What the frick are you supposed to do now?

Is Taehyung or anyone going to properly introduce you two?

No???

Okay fine.

Seems like you're gonna have to get used to doing things on your own.

You smile at him and timidly hold your hand out.

"Uh hi. I'm Y/n. I don't know if Tae's ever mentioned me to you before but--"

"Oh, trust me. He's mentioned you plenty. He actually never shuts up about you."

ʰᵉʰ

You don't really know if he was stating that as a fact or if he's trying to be mean…

"Oh ha ha… That must be really annoying then."

"Yeah, it is actually."

Your small polite chuckle died down your throat.

Wow and you thought Taehyung can be rude.

hE'S STILL JUST STARING.

"Uh…" You finally lowered your hand that he obviously isn't going to shake.

That is definitely going in your top 10 most embarrassing moments ever.

God, can someone get you away from this guy?

What's his problem?

"SO, can any one of you help us? Like, any tips or something?" Tae concludes his really long and repetitive rant.

Everyone's eyes FINALLY focuses on Tae again.

Seokjin snorts loudly.

Eww.

He opens his mouth to say something but Tae immediately holds his hand up to stop him.

"Anyone except you hyung. I don't think you're classified."

Everyone laughs to that and again,

ARE YOU MISSING OUT ON SOMETHING HERE?

Seokjin raises one finger like he's trying to make a point. "If anyone is classified to give tips on how to get accepted, it's me!"

"Yeah, just not on how to last on one." Namjoon loudly whispers to Tae.

"HEY I HEARD THAT!"

Ohhh….

So,

Does he constantly get fired from a job?

Well, that's just sad.

Hopefully you don't end up like him.

😳

"Actually," Hoseok starts, "how do you end up landing on so many jobs? Like, don't they know your reputation?"

And that's your cue to finally insert yourself in the conversation.

"Uh, what reputation?"

"Sweetheart, you don't really want to know! It's not that big of a deal." Seokjin quickly steers you away from the topic but the other guys didn't allow it to happen.

"Oh, you know. Just that, he's known to be the "job eater" here. Cause he pretty much eats a job and moves on from it in a flash." Namjoon graciously fills you in.

So you were right.

That's kind of impressive though…

But a huge waste.

"Still! It makes me very much qualified to give the unemployed a tip!"

"Save it hyung, you might need it for your next job once you get fired from Uncle Aang's."

Seokjin gives everyone a sheepish smile.

What's that about?

It almost looks as if he…

"YOU GOT FIRED ALREADY?!"

"Oh you bet I did."

To be fair, how could he not stop himself from eating the free samples? Those pretzels are literal drugs.

"You just got that job four days ago. I can't believe it!"

"I can believe it." Yoongi says out loud.

Can't he say anything nice?

"Whatever! Point is, these stores still hire me no matter what."

"You know what, that is a good point." Taehyung mutters, slowly turning convinced by Seokjin.

Namjoon groans. "Are you for real Tae? If you want some job advice, maybe ask one from us who has only had one permanent job all throughout."

"Guys, let's give Seokjin hyung a chance!" Jimin, ever the sweet positive boy, suggests.

"Of course you would say that."

Not wanting to fade into nothingness, you insert yourself again in the conversation.

"I want to hear what he has to say."

Once those words left your mouth, you instantly regret it.

A.) Seokjin gives you another wink and gives you a flying kiss that has you weak in the knees again- I MEAN WHAT. I SAID NOTHING.

And B.) Yoongi is clearly not a fan of you sharing your opinions with the group.

Despite the obvious protests of Namjoon, Seokjin still gives his number one "professional" advice

And that is to have a perfectly 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 résumé.

"A high quality résumé? YOU? What the fuck are you talking about?" Yoongi says, slightly amused and slightly tired of the older guy's shenanigans.

"Don't believe me? Fine. But I'm telling you, it's all here on paper!" Seokjin takes out a folder from his backpack and waves it around.

Namjoon immediately snatches it from him

"5 pages long?? Are you for real?”

Seokjin hums and watches smugly with a cocky grin as the guys read through his résumé.

“Hang on, since when did you do balloon modelling?”

"I don't."

Hoseok gasps. "But bro, isn't that lying?"

"Yeah, duh! How else are these people gonna hire you? You have to sell them what they're looking for."

"What if they ask you to use these skills that you clearly don't have?"

"Then you're just gonna have to fake it till you make it, baby!"

Huh

No wonder he doesn't last long on a single job.

"And how's that working out for you?" Yoongi presses on.

"Well at least I get hired, Mr. 7th Time's the Charm!"

Yoongi is like ᶠⁱᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ ⁱ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰ��ˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵇⁱᵗᶜʰ (ง'̀-'́)ง

"That's not really the point of having a job, but I guess, whatever floats your boat, dude!" Hoseok finally sides with Seokjin.

"So everyone is looking for a job then?" Taehyung realizes, "this is so cool if all of us get hired! We'll all face the real world together."

"All of us except Jungkook though."

Who?

Oh that extra cute shy boy.

You forgot he's here.

Boy really hasn't said a word at all.

"Did ya hear that? All of us are getting jobs!"

"You should get one too!"

"That would be so cool!"

"So what do you say? What are your plans Kook?"

"Guys, don't pressure the kid!"

The guys talk simultaneously, ultimately kind of pressuring Jungkook to say something before he even thinks about it.

The table falls silent and everyone eyes Jungkook.

The guys are like ( ･ิ ͜ʖ ･ิ) and ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)

Jungkook is like (ʘ ͟ʖ ʘ)

Then the guys are like (≖ ͜ʖ≖)

So jungkook is like (¬‿¬ )

In the end, they are all like

(☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

And through it all, you are just ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

What the heck is going on?

"Yeah, why not?" Jungkook simply concludes and the guys make various celebrating noises.

Gasp!

He can talk???

"Okay, everyone calm down! Let's wait until after everyone gets hired before we celebrate." Namjoon scolds everyone.

"Well that might take a while considering Y/n and I can't find one!"

Namjoon places a comforting hand on Tae's shoulder. "Oh relax, there's like ten thousand stores in the mall!"

"Actually, there are only 613 stores in the entire mall." Hoseok points out a matter of factly.

You all look at him dumbfoundedly.

Aaaand he just stares back at all of you.

Is this some kind of trivia that you need to know if you work around here?

Are you gonna have to memorise a lot of facts about the mall???

Oh, you don't like that.

Seokjin was the first one to react.

"Dude?? What the hell?!"

"I got bored once while I was on a break and counted."

Huh.

Makes sense.

Yeah, sure.

Why not?

Why wouldn't you just go and count the total number of stores out of boredom???

…

THAT WAS A SARCASTIC REMARK IF YOU DIDN'T GET IT.

"Even if there are 600 stores here, there are only like, 20 good stores that exist!" Tae remarks

You want to say you can't agree more but you stop yourself because you don't think you can handle another cold stare from Yoongi.

"Are you perhaps pertaining to the high end stores?" Namjoon muses.

"Yeah. What else?"

Jimin's eyes widen in shock. "Hold on. So you two have only been looking at that small section of the entire mall?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Yoongi chuckles condescendingly.

"Bros, you know that saying… 'Beggars can't be choosers'?" Hoseok tries to enlighten you two.

You and Tae look at each other.

What an epiphany.

A very disgusting yet important epiphany.

"Are you… Are you guys saying that… We need to find a job… Outside of that section??"

They all nod.

Ughhhhhhh

You and Tae make an annoyed sound.

"Welcome to the real world, peasants!" Seokjin warmly tells you.

Could things get any worse?

"Hey, at least we'll all be here together!"

Ha ha

Great . Awesome. Wow.

"Well, on that note, I really need to get back to work. Lady and gentlemen, may the odds be ever in your favour. Good luck!"

Namjoon stands and walks away.

One by one, the other working guys went back to work as well, leaving you unemployed slackers.

Hey they didn't even give any actual help!

Wasn't that the reason why Tae called for a… What did they call it?

Code something something.

Oh whatever!

Anyways,

So to summarize things

You might end up working at an awful low end store.

And you're unwillingly stuck with the wrong set of people.

One of them is a total flirt and an actual pain to society.

Another one might possibly hate you for unknown reasons.

This tall dude seems to be really uptight.

Then there's this guy that seems really weird.

The other one, well… He's cute and doesn't really have any negative points yet BUT you're sure something's wrong with him.

And the last one literally said one thing during the entire time!

Oh, you've got a really really long way before you can pay your dad.

Good luck to you, indeed.

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prioritysope · 4 years ago

Text

Cheating

Reader: Female

Character: Oikawa Tooru

Rating: Explicit

Chapter: 26/26

The most difficult thing they had was learning Spanish, although it was a little easier for Gaby than for Oikawa. Tooru sometimes has difficulties, but cursing in Spanish is easy for him. It is normal that when you are learning a new language, insults are usually learned first.

In those years they never failed to go to Japan every winter and summer to spend with her family and friends. The last time they were found out that Matsukawa is working at a funeral home, Hanamaki was unemployed. And according to Tooru, Iwaizumi graduated from the United States and is currently an athletic starter, also coaching the Japan National team. About Scarlett, all they knew is that as soon as they graduated, she and Iwaizumi broke up. After that, they haven't heard about her at all. Maybe it was the best.

"Are we going to the party to celebrate your move to the National team?" She asked as she picked out some clothes from the closet.

Tooru was lying on the bed using his cell phone, totally semi naked, after the two of them had showered together. He stopped responding to messages on his cell phone, so he could reply to his girlfriend. He decided to get up from the bed, walking towards her, to hug her from behind her; also leaving a kiss on the back of her neck. Gaby turned her head and kissed his cheek.

"Of course we will go, amor." She closed her eyes when she heard that nickname in Spanish, it made her melt. If it weren't for Tooru hugging her, she would have fallen. "Besides, I'm sure tonight will be very special."

Before parting from her, he gave her a kiss on her cheek and a strong spanking, then went to dress himself.

"Better get dressed before I drag you to bed for round two." He murmured as he began to dress himself.

Gaby ignored his words, shaking her head. She opted to wear elegant shorts, a white top and a vest that she matched with her pants. In addition to black heels with gold trim, like the strap that the pants wore. While Tooru put on a white shirt, which highlighted his muscles along with elegant black pants, which highlighted his thighs. Also some white air forces one.

They both looked at each other totally in silence, admiring each other. Neither tires of admiring the other, it was as if they never saw each other. Tooru moved closer to her, grabbing her by the waist to hold her closer to him. He left a soft kiss on the lips that drove him crazy, he wanted more, but he knew they already had plans. Tooru couldn't help but spank his girlfriend again, earning himself a blow to his shoulder.

"Sos un boludo." She spat, rolling her eyes. Dumbass.

"Soy tu boludo, amor." I'm your dumbass, love.

----

It had been about ten minutes since they had both arrived at the event site. Everything was full of people. From afar Gaby could see Coach Armoa and some of Oikawa's teammates. She greeted each one with a kiss on the cheek and a smile as Tooru went to get something, or so he said.

She kept walking, searching for the feast until she saw a fairly recognizable figure. She rubbed her eyes, thinking she was dreaming or already drunk, even though she hasn't had anything to drink yet. She did not know whether to approach to corroborate, but her doubts were answered when the person turned and they were both face to face. It was... Iwaizumi Hajime. What was he doing there? For Gaby, he was in Japan training the Japanese team. What a surprise has been. They both stared at each other, not saying a single word. Five years without seeing each other, that was a lot. He looked different than seeing him on social media.

"What are you doing here, Hajime?" Gaby broke the silence first.

"The moron Oikawa invited me, remember he's my best friend after all and I want to support him." It was the only thing he answered, shrugging. "I admit that living here has done you good. You look more beautiful."

"From what I see the surprise was anticipated." Tooru's voice was heard behind both of them.

She turned around, and to her surprise it wasn't just Tooru. There was also Matsukawa, Hanamaki, the rest of the team, and her three best friends. She was really confused and happy to see them here. She didn't expect them to come, much less Tooru not telling her. She supposed this was part of the special night that Oikawa said before coming.

"Is this what you mean special night?"

They all looked at each other, laughing in unison; which confused her even more.

"Oh, that." Tooru muttered. "This is only the first part, the second is missing."

Just by looking at Gaby's face, anyone would realize she was anxious and she already wanted to know the rest of the surprise. Patience is not her strong suit. She frowned and received a big hug from her boyfriend, then a kiss on her forehead.

"Tranquila, mi amor." He murmured into her ear, hugging her around her waist. Stay calm, my love. "Solo disfrutemos la noche, y verás que en cualquier momento la otra sorpresa te la daré." Let's just enjoy the night, and you will see that at any moment the other surprise I will give you.

After that, everyone went dancing for a while and then caught up on everything. Everything was laughter with Sakura, Sumi and Akira. Each one was still with their respective boyfriends, and that surprised her quite a bit. The conversation was good until the music stopped and Tooru appeared out of nowhere. Her friends looked at each other strangely, which confused Gaby a bit.

"Sorry to interrupt, linduras, but I have to take this beautiful woman." His voice sounded a little weird, like he was nervous about something. She knew him well enough to know that.

Oikawa brought her to the center of it all, drawing everyone's attention and they surrounded them. Gaby was clearly confused about everything, that they all found tenderness. Although Tooru was the same. He moved his hands a lot when he spoke, something very characteristic of him when he is nervous. She was trying to figure out what might be happening, but nothing came to her mind.

A couple of minutes later, Oikawa took one of her hands. Squeezing it a little, hoping for a bit of comfort, which she gave him by squeezing his hand as well. Her curiosity was eating her from the inside every time.

"Gaby, there is something I want to tell you." Oikawa began. His nerves were on the edge of his skin. He reached his other hand into his pocket, waiting for the right moment. He could feel a few beads of sweat run down his hundreds. She kept her gaze on Tooru, waiting for him to continue, though you could also tell that he was anxious. "You know that I am terrible at saying romantic things, especially if it is in front of many people. You are someone very special to me. You have always been by my side, from the beginning and I am grateful to you for that. You have never let me go, not even at my worst moments. We have made mistakes, like anyone else and we learn from this every day. Despite the discussions and difficulties, we always come together to get ahead. Since I saw you I knew that I had to have you for myself and look at us, five years together; however , I want more. I want an eternity with you." The brunette knelt in front of her and all of her, including her, gasped in total surprise and perplexity at the scene.

"¿Me harías el honor de casarte con este boludo?" He said, a huge smile plastered on his face. Everyone was shocked. Would you do me the honor of marrying this idiot?

Nervously, he opened the little box showing a beautiful silver ring with a cute diamond in the middle. Gaby brought her hands to her mouth, totally shocked at the scene in front of her. She didn't expected Tooru to propose to her.

Gaby's face was bathed in tears, cheeks totally flushed. She was totally stumped at the sudden proposal from her brunette. The whole place was silent, giving her time to think and wait for her response. She was sure of her answer, but everything was so sudden, that she felt her heart in her throat because of the happiness and nerves that she felt. On the other hand, Tooru was nervous and anxious. He feared she would reject him, even though something inside him was screaming at him to calm down.

"Of course I want to, amor." Gaby answered after a while of silence, barely and answered, and Oikawa was putting the ring on her left ring finger and he raised her to start turning around. As he repeated over and over again, "She said yes, she said yes." When he lowered her, he brought her lips to his, hugging her around her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Everyone shouted happily and a thousand "Congratulations" rained on both of them as they wished them the best in their lives. They also went to their friends, hugging. It was definitely a special night.

"I love you, baby." Tooru whispered over her lips as he brought their foreheads together, he was holding back the urge to kiss her again

"I love you." She replied with a smile on her lips as she closed her eyes. They both knew that those two words would last much longer.

They were going tomarry the love of their lives. They couldn't be happier.

#oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru #oikawa fic #oikawa fanfiction #oikawa smut #oikawa tooru x oc #original character #oikawa x oc #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu smut #haikyu fic #hq iwaizumi #hq fanfic #hq smut

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract.

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer.

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest.

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park.

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams.

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand.

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy.

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen.

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside.

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband.

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session.

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me.

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime.

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine.

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said.

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband.

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company. “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth.

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments.

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car.

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand.

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection.

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona.

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities.

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids requests #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz oneshot #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids minho #stray kids minho fanfic

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Forever Hold Your Peace | Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader | Chapter 1 | The Break Up

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader

Summary: Tom Hiddleston dated Benedict's little sister (reader) back at Cambridge, after a bad breakup Tom and Benedict are now friends. The reader is now engaged to an American who Benedict does not trust. Ben turns to his good friend Tom to help break up the wedding and win back the girl he never truly got over.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, slapping, cursing.

Benedict glanced at the name of his cell phone screen and rolled his eyes.

“Hello?” he said in a flat tone.

“Hello, Benny boo.” the giddy voice bubbled up on the other side of the line.

“What can you want at…” He glanced at a nearby clock. “five in the morning? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere sleeping off a hangover?”

“Can’t a sister want to talk to the older, wiser brother?” you commented on the other side.

“No.” Benedict deadpanned. “Not at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. You want something. Or rather, you need something. So why don’t you save us both some time and just tell what it is.”

His tone grew more and more irritable. You knew your brother was not a morning person, but this news was too big to wait any longer.

“So I met a guy…” you started.

“Another one? Honestly, I don’t need to hear about all your conquests at Cambridge. We’re close but your sex life—”

“It’s not like that! And ew…” you interrupted. “And this guy is not just a conquest. It’s serious.”

“Just like you thought with James, and Charles, and Stephen…” Benedict rattled off names of ex-boyfriends like a grocery list.

“I get the point, so stop. Now if you would listen for a minute, I can tell about Tom.”

He slumped into his chair, knowing he wasn’t getting out of the conversation soon. “Go on.” he gestured in the air not that you could see it.

“So he is studying the Classics.”

“Dead languages, that’s a useful life skill.”

You scowled at your phone. “Who is talking here?”

“He went to Eton.”

“Stuffy and pretentious.”

“Says the man who attend Harrow.”

“And he is an actor.”

“WHAT?!” Benedict yelled into the phone. “You of all people should know better than to date an actor. They are insufferable.”

“Says the actor.”

“I’m your brother I don’t count. So how did we meet this actor, which means unemployed student?”

“At a play.”

“Naturally.”

“He is charming and polite and handsome. And I want you to meet him.”

“Absolutely not.”

“At graduation. He’s graduating this year. It would mean a lot to me.”

“Nope.”

“Please…” you whined and Benedict swore he heard the pout through the phone. “… you can pick the restaurant for dinner.” You attempted to appeal to your brother’s voracious appetite.

“Even that curry place you hate?” he asked with hope in his voice.

“Even the curry place I hate.” you parroted back in defeat.

“Then it is a date.”

“Thank you. And Ben… be nice.”

“I make no promises. I hate him already.”

“Under different circumstances, the two of you could be friends.”

“I doubt that.”

“Just keep an open mind.”

“Fine.” he huffed into the phone. “Send me the date and I will be there.”

“Thanks, bro. I will talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

Benedict ended the call and slumped even further in the chair, covering his face with his hands. He loved you more than anything in the world as his baby sister but he sometimes wondered in your taste in men. He hoped this time he was wrong.

Three Days Before Graduation

“This isn’t working out between us.” Tom started as he took a bite of the burger.

“I beg your pardon?” you asked as your jaw dropped open. “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

Tom ran his hands through his messy blond curls. His blue eyes darted around the pub. “Well…” his lips pulled into a thin line as he chooses his next words. “… yes. I’m going off to RADA and you will be abroad for your third year. Long distance never works. I need to focus on my acting on my career, I don’t have time for a girlfriend. I mean did you expect this would last past graduation?”

“Yes!” you screeched, not caring if you made a scene.

“Keep your voice down.” Tom hissed as he leaned across the table.

“Is that why you brought here, so I wouldn’t make a scene!?” you lowered your voice only slightly.

Tom reached for your hand but you pulled away. “Come on, that’s not why. I thought we could enjoy a nice dinner out… as friends.”

Tom gave you one of his killer smiles. The smile that until thirty seconds ago would have made you melt in your seat. But all you saw was a smug grin and white hot flames of anger.

CRACK! You reared back and slapped Tom hard on the cheek. He sat stunned holding his face in silence.

“WE ARE NOT FUCKING FRIENDS, YOU BASTARD!” you threw your napkin on the table and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Tom there with the rest of the patrons glaring at him.

You dialed your brother once you got home.

“Dinner is off!” you sobbed into the phone.

“What? How?” Ben tried to decipher what happened between your sobbing and sniffling.

“He… broke… up… me…!” you managed squeak out between gulps of air. You collapsed into sobs once again.

“He who?”

“Tom!” you snapped.

“What? But everything was going so well.” He resisted the urge to say “I told you so” but only because you sobbed so loud into the phone.

“Apparently not. He said something about wanting to be a serious actor and needing to focus when he goes to RADA.”

“He clearly has poor taste and is ill educated. Everyone knows LAMDA is better.” He joked trying to get you to laugh.

“Not helping.” you gave a halfhearted chuckle through stifled sobs. “I thought he was the one. Is it me? Why do I always pick the wrong guys?”

“It’s not you, these guys do not realize what they are missing out on. As for picking the wrong guys, if you just listened to your big brother…” his voice trailed off.

“And here is the ‘I told you so’.” you snorted, your tears drying and sobs subsiding.

“Did I say those words?” Benedict feigned mock hurt. "Those words came out of your mouth, not mine.”

“Hahaha.” You gave a joyless laugh.

“See? You are already laughing. The healing process has begun.”

“Hardly.” you wiped your nose with your sleeve.

“How about I speed that process along with coming up a day early and taking you to that diner place like?”

“You would do that for me?” your voice perked up.

“I would do anything for you. You’re family. That includes beating up the rat bastard that broke your heart. You never told me his last name. How else am I supposed to exact revenge?”

“It’s a ridiculous last name.”

“More ridiculous than Cumberbatch?”

“Hiddleston. His name is Tom Hiddleston.”

That name seared upon Benedict's brain for the next eight years.

2009

Even after several years in the industry, Benedict wasn’t sure if he loved or hated these kind events. A bunch of young actors grouped together like they were all friends. His agent and publicist insisted he needed to attend. This event was no exception, a gathering of upcoming British actors. He tugged at his jacket out of nerves.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep baritone asked. Benedict turned to catch a tall man with messy blond hair looking at him with questioning blue eyes.

“Please.” Ben pulled the seat away from the table and the man took a seat. “Better to grab one now than have to stand all night.”

“Right.” the blond man commented. Ben studied the gentleman next to him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, name’s Benedict.” He extended his hand.

“Tom.” he took Ben’s hand and gripped it with enthusiasm. “I don’t think we have. I haven’t gone to many of these events yet.”

“A few tips, drink slowly, find a seat early, and use hand sanitizer.” Ben leaned in as he took a long sip of his drink.

Tom laughed. “I will remember that. Now that I look at you, there is something familiar, did we go to school together?”

“Harrow?” Ben offered.

“Eton. Cambridge?” Tom offered.

“Manchester. How about drama school?”

“RADA.”

“LAMDA.”

Tom smiled. “You must just have one of those faces.”

“Must be.”

Before long, they were laughing and chatting like they were old friends. Tom raised his glass.

“To new friends.” He offered in a toast.

“To future costars.” Ben countered.

They clinked their glasses and drank. A young woman came up and tapped Tom on his shoulder.

“Mr. Hiddleston…” Ben stiffened in his chair. “… you are need outside for a moment.”

“Of course.” Tom stood and gave Benedict a nod before walking off. “Save my seat.”

“I’ll do my best.” Benedict choked out.

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as Tom’s lean frame walked. This is the man who broke his sister’s heart. After about ten minutes, Ben downed the rest of his watered down cocktail and stood from the table to find Tom.

He entered the empty lobby and moved along to see if Tom had ducked into a side room. Benedict rationalized he just wanted to talk to Tom. But Benedict’s hands fisted at his side told another story.

A door opened at the end of the hall, Tom stepped out. In several long strides, Benedict caught up with Tom. In a single motion, he pushed the taller man against the wall.

“What the hell?” Tom exclaimed as he pushed back against Ben’s grip.

Although Tom outmatched Benedict in weight and height, he could not overcome Ben’s anger fueled strength.

“Does the name Cumberbatch mean anything to you?”

Tom tilted his head down, searching. “No… oh… “ His face grew in recognition. "Are you related to her somehow?”

Ben pushed him against the wall, digging his forearm against Tom’s throat. “She is my sister.”

Tom threw his arms up in defeat. “I didn’t know, I swear, mate. Listen, I acted like a jerk back then, I could have handled things better.”

Benedict stared down Tom. Tom gave a smile to Ben to diffuse the situation. “Bygones?” Tom offered.

Benedict contemplated letting him go. But the image of his sister absolutely crushed flashed in his brain. Before he knew what he was doing, he punched Tom square on the nose. Not enough to break any bones but Tom saw stars.

“Bygones.” Benedict muttered as he walked away.

Tom stood still, regaining his bearings. He left the event thinking the Cumberbatch family had a mean right hook.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #forever hold your peace

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active-galactic-nuclei · 5 years ago

Text

Rewrite Your Memories

Zuko x reader

warnings: none except like Zuko’s tragic backstory

Inspired by the lovely @zukochi who gifted me this wonderful prompt!!

You were looking for a roommate. You were broke, and you could hardly manage to pay the rent each month. As a college dropout, your career prospects weren’t looking too hot, and as a starving artist that didn’t seem like it would be changing anytime soon. So you put out an ad on craigslist. What’s the worst that could happen? If someone tried to murder you then at least you’d have a good story to tell at parties.

Zuko was looking for a house. Or an apartment. Or anywhere to stay that wasn’t the streets tonight. He had been kicked out of his dorm for “dangerous, unlawful and reckless activities.” Of course, he hadn’t meant to set his curtains on fire. It was just a mistake. They didn’t care much whether it was an accident or not. He was as good as gone as soon as his roommates walked through the door. He figured he’d just have to sleep in a crappy hotel for the night or god forbid he’d have to ask to stay with his uncle. Of course uncle Iroh would say yes, but his pride would never survive a blow like that. He was eighteen years old. He wanted to handle it by himself. He sat in his car and started searching for the places to stay.

Suddenly a message came through on your phone. An unknown number. You figured it would be just another spam text trying to sell you something, so you almost didn’t even bother reading it. Then you remembered the room listing. You’d only posted it two hours ago, surely that couldn’t be it, could it?

“Unknown number: I heard you’re renting out a room. When's the soonest I can move in?” it said. Laughing at the bluntness you quickly typed back.

“And just who are you?” you responded.

“My name’s Zuko. I need somewhere to stay asap,” he shot back quickly.

“Well if it’s really that urgent then you can come by whenever. I’m home for the rest of the day,” you offered, puzzled at his predicament.

“Perfect. I’ll be over with all my stuff soon,” he responded. Well that wasn’t weird at all, right? Maybe you would be getting murdered after all. The universe just loved to punish you.

An hour and 35 minutes later on the dot, a knock sounded at the door. Well, time to meet your new roommate (or as you supposed, murderer… or…. both?) Dragging yourself away from the couch, you meandered warily to the door. When you opened it you were expecting a terrifying thug, or maybe a creepy old hag, or any other person that your mind coupled with the word murderer. You certainly weren’t expecting a tall, dark, handsome, young man with brooding eyes and a scar taking up half his face. Well, maybe the scar was a little more on brand with what you were envisioning… but regardless, you were more than surprised.

“I’m Zuko, and you must be Y/N right?” he asked meekly. Wonderful, his voice was gorgeous too. You were starting to wonder if the universe was cursing you in a much different way now.

“Um yeah… That would be me,” you responded hesitantly. Why were you so awkward?

Now the universe really was cursing you.

“Great, I have my stuff with me so if you could, like, show me to my room that would be… wonderful,” he prompted. You had been so lost in his eyes you’d hardly even recognized what he’d said. You quickly snapped out of it, realizing what an idiot you looked like, and started walking toward the spare room.

“Sorry there's still some of my stuff in here. I’ll move it out by tomorrow, it's just that some of the paintings are still drying,” you told him. He started unpacking things from his suitcases and you decided to take the moment to sit down on the floor next to him.

“So uhh… What made you decide to move in with me so fast? I barely had the listing up for two hours,” you asked, trying not to push too hard and make him uncomfortable.

“It’s kind of a weird story,” he trailed off, “Are you sure you want me to tell it?”

“I’m the master of weird stories, Zuko. Trust me, you can tell me anything,” you answered.

“I’m um… kind of homeless I guess. I got kicked out of my dorm for uhh… setting my room on fire…” he confessed, looking embarrassed. He looked down, fearing your reaction. Would you be mad? Scared? Instead you surprised him by… laughing?

“I understand, I got kicked out of my last apartment for painting on the wall and ruining it. It was an accident, I just hadn’t realized I needed to put a tarp up. What about you? I mean… Did you mean to set the fire?” you asked.

“If I'm telling the truth then… yeah. I guess I did. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I was just so angry I started lighting stuff on fire. I didn’t mean for it to spread to the curtains or anything though. That part was really an accident. I just didn’t notice until it was too late,” he explained. You smiled sympathetically.

“I get it. I mean, everyone makes mistakes sometimes,” you told him. “So, what do you do for a living?” you asked, laying back and resting your head on his now empty backpack.

“I’m uhh… unemployed. I mean I’m a full time computer science student but my uncle pays for everything,” he told you.

“Your uncle pays for everything but you’re homeless? How does that work?” you asked playfully.

“I just didn’t want to bother him by asking to stay with him. I mean I know that he would say yes but… I just couldn’t do that to him after everything he’s done for me,” he sighed. “How about you, what do you do?”

“I work at a bookstore with some of my friends. I dropped out of college last semester. It just… wasn’t what I really wanted, you know? My passion is art. I just want to make the world brighter in that way,” you explained.

“I get it. I’m studying to work with artificial intelligence. I just want to help people. If I can do that with my life… i think everything will be worth it,” he told you.

“No way, my friend Toph is studying AI too! Have you ever met her?” you asked excitedly.

“Toph Beifong? Yeah of course I know her. She’s one of the smartest people in my engineering class. The way she works with metal to build stuff… I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said.

“That’s Toph for you. She’s always talking about the newest thing she’s built when we’re working together. It’s her and I, and three of our other friends at the bookstore. Katara’s studying business, Sokka’s studying communications, and Aang is working on philosophy. Don’t ask me what he’s gonna do with that degree once he graduates, but he seems pretty happy whenever he talks about it to us,” you told Zuko. He was listening intently, hanging on every word. It seemed like he really cared. Suddenly you realized that you were in way over your head with the mysterious man. The universe was just so cruel that way.

The next day Zuko was in class. He sat next to Toph, hoping to get to know her better. In all his time in class with her, he’d never really taken the time to talk to her. To his surprise, once he got past her sarcastic and calloused exterior she was sweeter than he’d imagined.

“Have you gotten the book we’re studying yet? The annotations are due by Sunday night,” Toph asked him.

“No I… haven’t even thought about it yet,” he confessed.

“You should get on it or else you won’t finish on time. Why don’t you go to Katara's Books? That's where I work. Just tell them Toph sent you and they’ll give you 25% off. I mean, not like you need it, rich kid… but still, you should get it there. The money goes to my friend Katara. She owns it and she’s doing everything she can to keep it running,” Toph explained.

‘Yeah, I'll be sure to stop by,” Zuko said, standing up to grab his things. Katara? That name sounded awfully familiar. Maybe he’d know where he’d heard it once he got there. Making his way across campus, he couldn’t get you out of his mind as he walked.

Walking into the store he looked around, quickly finding his way to the nonfiction shelf.

“Hey, I’m Aang! Do you need help finding anything today?” came a voice from behind making him jump. He wheeled around to see a little bald kid wearing what looked to him like monk robes. Aang… now that name seemed familiar too. He told the kid, Aang, what book he was looking for.

“Ah, I love that book! I love the part discussing the philosophy that metal is alive. It’s definitely great food for thought. It should be right… here!” he said, pulling the book off the shelf.

“Thanks for the help… Aang,” he said, trailing off. He walked up the counter, ready to pay when he caught sight of you. Ringing up the customer in front of him. Of course that’s where he’d heard those names from, you had told him about them last night. He studied your face carefully as you smiled and laughed at the woman buying a copy of The fault in Our Stars. You looked… beautiful. He scolded himself for being creepy. He knew better than to start being vulnerable for you.

“I can help the next guest in li- oh, Zuko! Hey!” you called out.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going today?” he shoots back.

“It’s good. We’ve been kind of slow so that’s been nice. Oh, I love this book! Autobiography of a Yogi is really amazing. Aang told me about it after he studied it in class. I read it after that and I loved it! I think you’ll really enjoy it,” you told him. You were so adorable when you were excited. Zuko scolded himself again. He needed to get you out of his mind. As he paid and said goodbye though, it seemed an impossible task. A spark had caught in his heart, and he knew it would soon be a raging forest fire. Uncontrollable and insurmountable, too great to ever find his way out of. As he walked back to your shared apartment, he began to realize the thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should have.

Walking in the door and setting your keys down, you saw Zuko on the couch. As peaceful as he looked, you needed to ask him about dinner.

“Hey, are you hungry?” you asked, setting your bag on the counter.

“Yeah, are you making dinner?” he responded. He turned around to face you.

“I was hoping you’d help out but, yeah. All I have is macaroni and cheese, is that fine with you?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll get the stuff out for it,” he said, watching you put a pot of water on the stove to boil. He grabbed the milk and butter from the fridge, trying to put his anxiety to the back of his brain. He was a grown adult, it shouldn’t still scare him. He had zoned out and before he knew it, the pasta was done.

“Hey, move you dork. I need to pour this in the strainer you said. Seeing that he didn’t seem to notice you tried to move around him and pour it out anyway. Evidently, that did not go very well as you accidentally scalded his hand by pouring boiling hot water on it. He let out a yelp, sounding like a kicked puppy. Your heart sank.

“Oh my god Zuko I’m so sorry!” you apologized. You tried to grab his wrist to inspect the burn, but he snatched it away from you with a squeal and sank down against the refrigerator. You knelt down in front of him as he folded in on himself. You reached up to grab an ice pack from the freezer and handed it to him, noticing him start to cry. You sat next to him and tried to calm him down. He sounded like he was hyperventilating, which you didn’t take as a good sign. You knew a panic attack when you saw one, and this was most certainly one of them.

“Hey, calm down. It’s alright. You’re going to be okay, alright? Just breathe,” you reassured him softly. You rubbed his shoulder tenderly as you brought him back down to earth. It took a few minutes, but eventually he calmed down enough to speak.

“Hey, can you tell me what just happened, Zuko?” you asked softly, trying your best to sound reassuring.

“Panic attack… I just panicked… too much like the accident… too scary,” he blubbered almost incoherently.

“What accident? Can you tell me what happened to you Zuko?” you pushed, trying your hardest to stay gentle. Your heart broke when he spoke up.

“My dad… when I was little… my face… he poured boiling water on my face… that’s why I have my scar… It hurt so bad, Y/N, it just reminded me of it,” he explained. You were horrified, but even more than that you were angry that someone could do that to him. To such a sweet person. To a child.

“Is he in jail? Your dad?” you asked, pushing your voice to stay flat.

“He’s… he’s gone now. Thankfully. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever had to see him again.” Zuko explained, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “I’m sorry I freaked out, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. Not at all,” you told him, holding back tears of your own.

“So umm… you think the pasta’s still good?” he asked, a watery smile teasing on his lips.

“Fuck the pasta,” you told him. “We’ll just order out.”

“I’d like that... “ he trailed off.

“We’ll get whatever you want, my treat,” you said, watching his face.

“Can we go eat at my uncle’s shop? He makes great tea and we’ll probably be the only ones in there,” he asked.

“Of course we can,” you told him. You got up to grab your keys, not noticing how his eyes flickered over to you with longing as you turned around.

Stepping out of your car, you looked up at the sign for the Jasmine Dragon. A quiet little tea shop by the edge of campus, sitting alone next to two closed buildings. It was cute, you thought. You were surprised you’d never been before. You walked in behind Zuko, who instantly got called up to the counter by a man you could only assume to be his uncle. You spat out an order to him and he cheerfully wrote it down and handed it to the cooks. You couldn’t believe someone so sweet could be related to a family as awful as the one Zuko had described.

As the only ones in the shop, you got your food quickly. You eyed your soup appreciatively, thanking the server as he walked away.

“This colour is so pretty. I need to paint something with it sometime,” you told Zuko, gesturing to the soup.

“It reminds me of your eyes… they’re pretty too,” Zuko said, instantly kicking himself for it. You blushed as you looked up to see him looking at his food intensely, too embarrassed to look back at you.

“Thank you… You know, your eyes are pretty nice too,” you responded rather awkwardly. The universe’s vendetta for you knew no end.

As you got up to leave, Zuko stayed put.

“I’m gonna stay here to help Uncle close up shop. I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he explained. He watched you say goodbye and walk out, making your way to the car. He walked over to the counter, vaulting over it.

“Zuko! How’s my favourite nephew doing?” Iroh asked him, smiling as he finished drying off a glass.

“I’m… confused. I need help, Uncle,” Zuko responded.

“It’s about that Y?N, your new roommate, isn’t it?” Zuko nodded, “I knew it. I’m always so good at reading you, Zuko.” Zuko sighed.

“I think I really like her, but I don’t know what to do. What if she thinks I’m weird or something. I don’t want to ruin us as friends,” Zuko confessed.

“You’ve got to do what makes you happy, Zuko. If she makes you happy, tell her. If she’s really your friend she’ll understand,” Iroh told him, pulling him into a knowing hug. Zuko let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he sank into it. Everything always had to be so complicated.

At home, your mind raced with thoughts of Zuko. Calling your friends, you sighed as everyone picked up.

“What am I supposed to do about Zuko?” you asked dramatically.

“You could always just kill him,” Toph offered, earning a laugh from everyone else.

“I’m serious. He's literally… perfect. I think I’m in love with him or something,” you said to her.

“Let me get this straight: you let him move into your apartment without even knowing him, he tells you he burnt down his dorm room, and now you’re in love with him? Maybe I’m just spoiled by being in love with the nicest person ever but that sounds kind of fucked up,” Katara told you.

“Ok first of all, yes you are spoiled by being in love with Aang, but second of all yes. I know I’m an idiot but I can’t help it. You’d only understand if you were in my shoes,” you responded.

“I think you should just do it. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? He says no?” Aang said.

“No Aang, the worst he could do is be totally creeped out and move out and I never see him again,” you spat out frustratedly.

“If that happens, I’ll yell at him in engineering for you,” Toph offered.

‘Thanks Toph, but I doubt it’ll come to that. I’ll probably just suffer dramatically until the end of time,” you lamented flopping down onto the couch to agonize about life.

When Zuko walked in, he was surprised to find you on the couch. He walked up to the sink and dumped the forgotten macaroni in the trash and rinsed out the pot. Drying his hands on his jeans, he walked over to where you were sleeping. He debated for a second before picking you up and carrying you back to your room. He set you down in bed and turned off the lights in the hallway. He took note of the stacked canvases in the corner, and saw the painting still drying on top. A boy with half of his face obscured by a deep red scar stared back at him. It couldn’t be meant to be him, could it? Surely he wasn’t that beautiful in your eyes, was he?

Waking up the next morning you were confused. You had fallen asleep on the couch talking to Katara. Why were you in your bedroom? Had…. had Zuko brought you in here last night when he came home? Your heart sped up at the thought. He must have, right? As you got dressed and walked into the empty living room, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. Zuko was already long gone, the crazy morning person that he was. It was your day off, and you knew it was Sokka’s too, so you decided to call him.

“Hey, do you wanna go get coffee or something today?” you asked him when he picked up the phone.

“Of course, dork. Meet me at the coffee house by the campus library in half an hour,” he responded. You smiled as you hung up the phone and went to go get ready.

Half an hour later and you were walking into the coffee house to see Sokka sitting at a table in the corner. You sat down across from him to see your favourite drink already sitting in front of you. Taking a sip, Sokka piped up.

“So about this Zuko character, I know you really like him. Tell me more about him,” he told you, punctuating the sentence with a smile that you couldn’t resist.

“He’s so gorgeous, Sokka. Plus, he’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Aside from you and Aang. But seriously, he’s amazing. I painted a picture of him last night while I was on the phone and it was just Katara. He has the most paintable face. I just want to get lost in it,” you rambled on. He was starting to overtake your mind, you couldn’t get him out of your brain.

“Look, I’m just saying. If he’s that great, you should just tell him you feel. If anything else, you know I’ll kill him if he breaks your heart,” offered Sokka.

“Good luck,” you laughed, “He’s been training in Tae Kwon Do since he was a baby,” you replied. Sokka groaned, smirking as you laughed at him. You took a sip from your coffee mug. Things were always so complicated.

Walking back into the apartment, you saw all the lights were turned off. That was… strange. Zuko should have been home by now. Maybe he was sleeping? You walked with light footsteps down the hall, making your way towards Zuko’s room. Seeing his door cracked open, you decided to go in and check on him. You found him sitting in the dark, holding a lighter. A little silver Zippo he was using to pass over the ends of his fingertips, and holding to his palm. He looked lost in thought as he watched the flames dance across his skin.

“Zuko… are you ok?” he whispered trying not to disturb him too much. He flinched and dropped the lighter onto the carpet, wheeling around to face you.

“You scared me, I didn’t even hear you come in,” he told you.

“Sorry I just… didn’t want to make too much noise in case you were sleeping or something. Anyway, what were you doing?” you asked.

“Oh I was just messing with my lighter. You know, typical pyromaniac behavior,” he smirked.

“I knew you were an amateur arsonist, but I didn't peg you as the masochist type,” you giggled.

“It’s just in my blood I guess. I’ve always been fascinated by fire as long as I can remember. So was my sister, and my parents, and my cousin. My uncle is too. I guess that’s just how it goes with us,” he revealed.

“I didn’t know you had a sister. I’m assuming she uhh… wasn’t the best?” you said knowingly.

“She was sick in the head. It wasn’t her fault. An upbringing like we had would make anyone crazy. She’s in a mental hospital now. I still visit her sometimes but… not as much as I used to. It’s just hard to see her like that. It just reminds me too much of my mom,” he confessed.

“Is that… bad?” you asked, trying hard not to sound rude.

“I loved my mom, she was the best part of my life when she was in it. After my dad disowned me and kicked her out though… it’s just too hard to think about…” he trailed off, his voice cracking with a sob at the end.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko. I can’t imagine how you feel,” you responded, pulling him into your chest as his body shook with sobs. You held him as he let out strangled sobs, and you stayed like that until his breathing evened out.

“We’re gonna get through this. We can rewrite your memories together,” you told him.

The next morning as you clocked into work, you couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. The way he’d been so vulnerable with you. You had grown so fond. It was impossible to stop your heart from racing every time you thought about him. Walking over to where everyone else stood sorting through books, you sighed.

“I need to do something about Zuko. I can’t keep thinking about him like this. It’s all I can think about,” you said, punctuated with a groan.

“Ok well, your only options are to either tell him or die miserable and alone. I don’t know about you, but I would take the first option,” Sokka told you, turning around to face you.

“Seriously. I know Toph isn’t here but I’m sure she’d agree: we all want you to be happy. The only way that’ll happen is if you just tell him how you feel,” Katara remarked.

“I guess you’re right. But what if he thinks I’m creepy or something?” you asked self consciously.

“Y/N, you’re gorgeous. Zuko would be lucky to have someone like you. Trust me, if he says no he’s delusional,” Katara responded.

“I think I’ll tell him tonight and get it over with,” you stated.

“Finally! I’m sure it’ll go well,” Aang told you, smiling from behind the book he was occupied with.

Zuko couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid to be so vulnerable with you last night. Once was more than enough, but twice? You had such an effect on him. It was like he could really be himself around you. It was the first time he’d ever felt that way, and he knew he’d have to capitalize on it. He knew he had to tell you how he felt. He sat down next to Toph, as had become his routine in class everyday.

“Toph, I need to ask you something,” he said, setting down his backpack.

“If you’re going to ask me on a date, just know that I’d rather kiss Momo,” she said, motioning to the dopey eyed guide dog that sat at her feet.

“No, it’s about Y/N. It's just… they make me feel so different. I’ve never felt the way I feel about them,” Zuko confessed.

“Happiness. You’re describing happiness,” Toph replied sarcastically.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I guess what i'm asking is… would you be alright with me asking her out?” he asked.

“Of course, idiot. As long as you don’t break her heart. Then I’ll have no choice but to kill you,” Toph said, raising her eyebrow. Zuko shuddered. If there was anyone he was truly scared of, it was Toph Beifong.

Sitting on the couch, you turned your head at the sound of a key turning in the door. You smiled inwardly when you saw Zuko’s face emerge from the door frame.

“How was class?” you asked him.

“It was… good,” he responded, walking over to you, “I uhh… really need to tell you something,” he said meekly.

“What’s up?” you asked as he sat down on the couch next to you.

“I just… you’re the first person that’s made me feel loved in so long. You’re always so happy to see me, and you always know just what to say, and you’re so gorgeous, and you have the most beautiful laugh and… I guess what I’m trying to say is… I really really like you, Y/N,” he confessed. He had no idea what to expect but he certainly hadn’t expected you to… laugh?

‘I know, Zuko,” you giggled, cutting him off with a kiss. He was taken aback, but he relaxed into it before you pulled away, keeping your hand on his cheek.

“How did you know?” he asked, breathless.

“You think Toph can keep a secret? Of course she told me,” you smiled.

“Of course she did,” he laughed, pulling you in for another kiss, “So, can I call us official?” he asked.

“Of course, my love,” you told him, sinking into his arms.

#zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #avatar: tla #avatar the last airbender #toph #sokka of the southern water tribe #sokka #avatar aang #avatar alternate universe #atla aang #aang the last airbender #fanfic #x reader

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years ago

Text

Wish Granted Pt. 2

[Yahya Abdul Mateen II x Black OC]

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I decided to make this a series and instead of reader, it is an original character. Strap in!

( Read Part 1 here)

That morning, Yahya and Corrine bask in the glow of the new morning sun, sharing a table by the front window enjoying eggs benedict, toast, with a stack of pancakes to share. Corrine dipped some of her bacon into the leftover egg and sauce along her plate, chasing it with the remaining orange juice in her glass. She goes to grab for more from the pitcher when Yahya’s hand surrounds hers.

“I have a flight tonight at 6,” he says.

Corrine nods slowly. “Ok.”

He looks sorry as he continues, “It got changed last minute.”

“Sure...can I ...pour my juice now?” Corrine asks, making Yahya awkwardly rest his hands on the table to allow you access to the pitcher.

“And with traffic, I should probably start getting ready to go now.”

Corrine sips her drink, wiping her mouth gingerly with the cloth napkin and sets it down. “I gave you back that ring, right?”

Yahya nods. “And your scarf is in your room at the hotel.”

“It’s not mine but...thanks.” Corrine says quietly. She pushes her fork around in the remnants of her plate, squeaking every so often against the porcelain.

Yahya leans forward. “I still want to stay in contact. Just because I live out of town doesn’t mean we can’t not see each other, you know?”

Corrine smiles with wide eyes like he just said something offensive. “If that’s what you think, that is fine. But honestly how would that work? I couldn’t keep a guy to get a proposal and I spent at least half of my 20s hanging with him. Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

Yahya sits back, looking out the window for distraction.

“I mean I am fine with a one night stand. Thank you for being what I needed at the time, it was definitely a night I will never forget but let’s not make this weird.”

Yahya sighs, looking around for presumably the waitress and pulls out his wallet. “I can’t believe you’re flipping like this.”

“It’s not a flip, just...this happens. Like, come on Yahya, we don’t know each other. Can you seriously say you want to try and make this a long term thing base don our track records?”

Yahya puts some bills on the table. “I thought you hadn’t done this before?”

Corrine shrugs. “Ok, truthfully, not since college had I done this before. Before...him,” she says with a cringe.

Yahya folds his arms across his chest looking at her with amazement. “So you really used me? I am your rebound and now you’re backing out? Or is it because I am not conveniently at your beck and call now that you’re scared to try something new?”

Corrine scoffs. “I don’t need to explain it, I made it clear. Long distance will not work. That’s it!”

“I disagree. And I want you to see that I am right and you’re wrong.”

“Yahya…”

“Corrine….” Yahya says, biting his lip playfully.

Corrine rolls her eyes, pulling out her purse to rifle through it. Not able to find a piece of paper, she takes an unused napkin and scribbles on the front with her dying pen.

“Look, I will give you my number. Do with it what you want, I’m not holding you to it though,”

She hands it to a confused look Yahya. “I could just give you my phone to put it in?”

“I’m old school. Plus, watch you accidentally use it and mess up the ink or ball it up thinking it’s trash. I wanna know you can be responsible with an important document such as that napkin with my number on it.”

Yahya looks at it, puts it down and grabs a five off of the stack of bills he had set on the table.

“Let me borrow that pen,” he asks, scribbling his number across the front of Lincoln’s face.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” Corrine asks, leaning to get a glimpse for herself before Yahya gives her the defaced bill.

“And here is my number. If your theory checks out, it shouldn’t be hard to keep up with or lose, unless you accidentally spend it on some shoes or a new purse, right?”

Corrine glares at him. “Ha Ha. Here, let me at least put some money back on this since you probably just took the girl’s tip money for this.”

Yahya waves her off. “Please, it’s still 20% without it, we good.”

Corrine folds the five up in a side pocket in her bag. “Then that’s it right?”

Yahya stares through the table, nodding blankly. When he looks at Corrine he fights a smirk.

“I really had a good time.”

“I did too.”

Yahya and Corrine step out of the restaurant, parting with one last hug as his car arrives to pick him. Corrine holds him close, smelling the fresh soap from the morning shower he took just a couple hours ago. His shoulders and back solid under her hands, she imagines if she lifts her feet, he wouldn’t bend or fold even slightly.

His hands spread along her back before sliding slowly around her waist, kissing a spot behind her ear that makes her curl back and chuckle.

“I’ll call you,” Yahya says inches from Corrine’s face as she nods. “You gonna call me?”

“When you call me, I will,” she says, putting her hand to the side of his face, trying to memorize every feature and feeling it gave her. One last kiss would make her fly in the cab with him, so she backs off, waving goodbye.

A month goes by and Corrine has finally packed up all of James’s things in two boxes. She sits on the couch staring at them sat next to her front door. His life with her fit in just two boxes? They weren’t officially living together yet but he spent so much time with her that it seemed like there would be more things. Most of it is laundry that needs washing and DVDs he brought over because he refused to buy them on digital again.

Corrine scrolls through her phone absentmindedly as she waits. A message pops up that makes her jump out of the blue.

Hey, how’s your morning beautiful?

It’s fine for now. Still waiting on him.

Don’t let him bother you. Just tell him to the left and leave!

Of course girl. Why mess with a beyonce blueprint?

Works every time! Also, don’t forget to meet us for our lunch date after.

Sounds good.

Corrine gets up to check out of her patio door and sees his car park outside. James strolls across the grass, which instinctively makes her cringe. She always told him to watch doing that so he doesn’t end up walking in dog shit.

She waits for his knock patiently, not wanting him to know she saw him already. Her phone chimes again.

Outside, it reads.

Corrine groans at the rude tone of his one word text. As she opens the door he’s leaning on the frame in a way that reminds you of one of Danny Zuko’s boys from Grease. Leather jacket on even though it's 85 degrees out, distressed blue jeans that fit snug around his lean legs with some schmegular all white Adidas.

“I already packed your stuff,” she says, walking backwards to point to the left as practiced. James takes one step in with his hands in his pockets and looks to his right at the boxes.

“I could’ve done that,” he says in a bored tone, looking back at her as if she is visiting him without notice,

“I asked you every week for the past month to come get it. You think I’m going to wait for you to poke around here and find every little thing of yours on your own? I don’t think so.”

His fingers find their way around a curl of hair in his high top fade. “What’s all this energy about though? I thought we could be cool about it?”

“Why would I be cool about anything with you after you left me by myself in the city when we were supposed to be celebrating your promotion, right? But you recall what happened instead? After 5 and a half years together?”

“I wanted to talk to you in person-”

“You hadn’t done that either for a month, have you?”

James’ jaw flies open. “Because the only thing you got to say is about picking up my stuff! You never asked to talk and you didn’t answer my calls!”

“I shouldn’t have to ask to talk! I’m not the one that said I can’t do this no more!”

“Are you sure Corrine? Cuz you never acted interested in shit with what I got to do. You don’t listen to nothing I got to say.”

Corrine scoffs loudly as James kneels to look through the boxes.

“I never helped YOU? I got you into a respectable corporate job that paid BILLS for the first time in you life when your cooking career wasn’t pulling weight like you hoped it would! Now you can earn some capital so you can open your business steadily and not fall flat on your ass! I gave you so much more mercy than you ever did for me!”

James sucks his teeth and comes to a standing, towering over Corrine. “I stood by you while you worked to do this lawyer shit you got goin on. Long nights studying in the living room, out to the library, hell week after hell week to pass your bar. I barely got a kiss from you at your celebration party. You always doin the most!”

Corrine grips her temples, completely taken back. “I can’t believe you’re saying my ambition is a reason to leave me. I can’t succeed while you’re down and out or you feel less of a man? Is that it?”

James picks up his boxes in both arms. “Shut up.” He walks out the door heading for the steps.

“No, now I got it! You want me to just stay quiet and patient while you figure things out but I couldn’t carry our relationship for you! I needed your support too, whether I am studying for hours on end or you’re taking a month long business trip, only to come back unemployed!”

James was out the door about halfway down when he looks back at her.

“You think I wouldn’t know? I got you that gig, how would I not check into it? They said you never showed up. Why?”

James looked off, sighing deeply like a load was taken off even though he was carrying two very heavy boxes.

“You had to get away for a month? What were you doing for that long that you didn’t tell me?”

James continued to not look at Corrine. His mind battling with what to say and what not to say was killing her as she looked for him to speak.

“I won’t take you back James, I just want a good excuse so I can hate you less. I thought you were going to marry me when you booked that room for us at that fancy spot. But you broke my heart so bad.”

James continued to walk down the steps without a word. Corrine watched him pack his car and turn on the engine to peel out.

“Girl, and that’s what he did?” Simone exclaimed over her half eaten salad. Her pressed hair pulled back in a bun already gave her a naturally alert look, but Corrine’s turmoil made it that much more apparent.

Corrine pushed around a meatball in her spaghetti. “That is all he did. I have no closure to it.”

Bria pats you back gingerly. “You’ll be fine and he’ll be fine. It’s just because the break up is still fresh that y’all couldn’t come to an understanding.”

Corrine sits back and shrugs. “Maybe? But that’s a big ass lie he dropped on me. He was gone for a month. He could have a whole family in another state for all I know.”

Simone points at Corrine, big brown eyes bucking. “That’s why I told you he look like Cousin Skeeter if he were a real man. He is just as goofy too. Nobody should leave for a MONTH without saying anything.”

Bria nods, adjusting her tortoise shell frames. “He is not worth a thought but you take all the time you need to get past it. Just move on. You gave him chance after chance up until the last moment. It’s time you got to breathe on your own.”

“And speaking of,” Simone lowers her voice. “You hear from our hotel daddy yet?”

“Oh God, don’t bring that up now,” Corrine whines.

“Simone!” Bria hisses. “She hasn’t heard from him yet, and honestly by now, there would be some explaining to do instead of dating.”

Corrine lays her head on the table. “Why is life so hard? I can’t have a good time with nobody!”

Simone and Bria offer pats as her tears are absorbed by the tablecloth.

“Hey, you know what? You do still have his number…”

“Simone, no. I can’t.”

“But! Instead of cutesy whats up and stuff, you can tell him off maybe? Give him the lashing every wrong you’ve received deserves. It might not be constructive but a quick shot of feel good sounds pretty good, right?”

Corrine sits up, dabbing her eyes and feeling the avalanche of snot coming to her nose. Her cries put all ugly cries to shame.

“I just...it was...he said...he’d call!” Corrine squeaks out between sobs.

One month turned into two, and so on until Corrine forgot about that night at the hotel. Busying herself with work was the best thing she could do in order to keep herself feeling good from day to day. That and happy hours with her girls who vigorously scoped men out for her as her wingwomen.

Sometimes when she is turning in for the evening, she picks up the base of her little desk mirror to find the $5 bill under it that Yahya scrawled his number on. The more she looked at it, she wasn’t sure if it ended in a four or a nine, so it’s probably best she kept from calling in order to not look foolish on someone’s phone.

James and her never got back with each other either. But Corrine is more ok with that. She figures whatever skeletons he has are bigger than she can manage and she deserves a break. But Yahya seemed so good and promising, she couldn’t believe she got bamboozled that hard. He could’ve left that morning, allowing her to sleep away the future but he gave her hope instead and that got snatched away.

So Corrine filled her days digging into practicing law and running errands and not much in between. But she was ok. Without the extra baggage of men in her life she felt as if she might’ve unlocked a new level in life.

---

“As you all know, the construction on the new building is being negotiated with several architects in order to get a broad scope of what design would fit the future of our practice the best for years to come. Let me remind you all that if it weren’t for your dedication to your work around here that we would not be one of the most sought after and winningest law office in the state.”

Applause fills the conference room for Hogel of Garrett, Hogel & Truman as Corrine takes notes on the meetings main points. Most of the meetings are supplied with a bullet list of the main topics, but she does not enjoy just sitting and staring or she is liable to daydream.

When the meeting comes to a close, it is close enough to the evening and the weekend that she hopes will allow her to get off early and head straight for bed. Her feet kill her in the stiff three inch pumps she wears for ten hours straight, and her local Chinese spot was calling her name for some springfield chicken.

When she makes it back to her desk, her heart flips with joy as she sees no new files to review and archive, and since she got ahead of her projects for the week, it seems the weekend has finally begun.

She kicks off her heels to slide into her worn in athletic shoes, feeling her feet melt into the dips that the insole has created to mold to her feet. Her heart beats in the bottoms of her foot from being released from their patent leather binding which is both uncomfortable and satisfying. But even if they were chopped off at the shin, these feet would lead her to her car and get her to her home paradise.

Corrine walks down the hall to the elevators, hearing noises from people as she gets close. She feels a little anxious, preferring an empty elevator at her departure time but is willing to deal so that the exit is quicker.

As the group of voices rounds a corner leading away from her, she sees a man standing head above the whites that surround him. A navy blue suit fitting tailored to wide set shoulder funneling down to a slim but sturdy waist, made her knees buckle a moment, causing her to slow her pace forward. He walks away, laughing one of those polite laughs one gives to company they want to impress. He hits the elevator button, listening to one of the partners speak until his gaze travels over them and spots her.

She feels her brain black out and her heart fall out of her ass and flight took over in her fight or flight response.

“Corinne!” he calls after her, but she pays him no attention rounding the corner. Stairs would have to work, no matter how much her feet her from the day, anything would do over having to see him make up whatever excuse he had to not call her. And what the hell is he doing at her job? Is he a lawyer? Is he looking for counsel? What if he is a fraud that manipulates women and sues them for some old timey bullshit laws like alienation of affection.

She thanked God that coincidence didn’t find him in the parking garage as Corrine finally made it home but settled on some leftovers she had in the fridge instead of her beloved Chinese food. At this point she still hadn’t calmed down from earlier. What if he is at the Chinese place? Where the hell does he live anyway? To be in the same area as her work, he couldn’t be far. She couldn’t remember where he said he was from, if they even covered that much information but she was not going to entertain his presence, he is a ghost to her.

In her bedroom she takes the five and slips it in her purse to make sure she spends the bill, like it's the reason he is back. She will have to treat him like a ghost. He won’t know she ever waited for him or thought about him after that night.

#shakafic #yahya abdul mateen ii fic #wish granted

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