#until someone could be transferred and/or promoted out of the store

[gobbluthbutagirl]

i don’t know if this is going to be a positive thing to hear or what but i am obsessed with your worlds worst target odyssey and i hope you continue sharing its all insane and incredible. have a good day and stuff

well see the thing is i quit like 4 months ago. so there’s not really anything new to share and there won’t be until i move back to california and pay that beast a visit to see if it’s still standing. but it’s all tagged with “#my job wrapped” if you’re feeling so inclined to take a horrible journey

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ you make me feel like I am clean again ❞

yandere!mob leaders x gn!reader | how you met | not proofread

warnings: graphic description of violence, guns, power imbalance (r! is part of the gang but they are a low-ranking member), yandere tendencies, mentions of drug dealings, very brief mention of r! getting felt up by someone in JH's section

masterlist ;

authors note: doing some oc writing feels lowkey daunting but I hope you guys enjoy it, I wasn't exactly sure how to format this aaaa but! I hope it isn't too confusing. I wanted to go more into depth but I suppose this serves as an introductory post to them??? IDK, I've never written this kinda thing before. * here is the better-quality post of the illustration * song on repeat: Love Song by Mariee Sioux

Kim Seo-Yun —

Seo-Yun would be unimpressed the first time she laid her eyes on you. It wouldn't be due to your looks, mannerisms, voice; she's just been hardwired that way.

Wants and needs are hard to convey when you're running one of the most dangerous businesses one could run. Drugs, gambling, skin, weapons — Seo-Yun's a busy woman.

Over time, however, she'll let her gaze linger on you.

Have you always looked so good in that colour? It really does bring out the shine in your eyes, and the suppleness of your lips. Seo-Yun's gaze is intimidating but seeing you squirm is all a part of your charm.

That's right. You're only dressing and acting this way to grab her attention, correct? Why else would she find it so hard to rip her sights from you?

Honestly, she shouldn't be making such frequent trips to the lower ring of her gang. This warehouse was meant to weed out the weakest of her guard dogs. It reeked of sweat and blood and cigarettes and cheap booze. The constant sounds of wrapped knuckles beating down on sandbags and bodies falling on thin mats gave her a headache.

Yet. She stands here on the second floor, gazing down at the sweaty men, a handful of women, and most importantly; you.

Favoritism comes slower than her interests. Seo-Yun will shove her feelings down until it bursts like a fucking volcano. All of a sudden, it's as if she's a hound that's caught the scent of their kill.

"What?" The man before you is wearing an expensive suit, luxury adorning him from the shimmering cuffs to the stitching that holds it together. "Madam Kim is requesting your transfer," he says curtly.

The transfer promotes you from doing grunt work near a polluted harbor to one of Seoul's most expensive penthouses in Gangnam.

It's jarring. She does not give you time to adjust. One moment you're setting down your duffel bag of things and the next you're in the back of a luxury car driving through Seoul's wealthiest district.

The guards (who are double your size and proudly show off their facial scars) push you toward the door of a seamstress. The very air you breathe smells like money.

When you see Seo-Yun, your eyes widen and you kneel to bow.

She muffles her amusement with a slow drag of her cigarette.

"They're very pretty, Madam Seo-Yun," a kindly old lady says from behind her. Her hands were bony and delicate, and the pin cushion she wore around her wrist looked heavy. Everything about her seemed deliberate and put together.

Despite that, despite the glamorous patterns she had on her and the jewelry hanging from her ears; Seo-Yun called for eyes on her with no more than a simple wave of her hand, flicking the ashes away from the cigarette.

"Aren't they? Such a gem."

Seo-Yun orders you to be a part of her security team. Dresses you in custom-made suits to blend in with the rest of the capable men and women. She gives you new weapons and arranges for you to have an apartment near hers. New fake IDs in store, local beat cops turning their gaze away as you smoke in alleyways with an obvious bulk under your jacket.

A gem she called you. And like a gem, she cannot keep her eyes off you.

Stares at you as if you were put on display. Relishes in the way you keep your gaze down, squaring your shoulders, straightening your posture — squirming under her gaze.

"Come inside," you freeze at her words. The other security guards stand stoically in the private entryway of her penthouse and she stands on the threshold of that obscenely large and heavy door.

"Madam?" you squeak out. She narrows her upturned eyes, like a goddess with no mood to be asked twice.

This is a nightly occurrence. It becomes a routine.

She invites you into her home, leaving the door open for you to close on your way in. She sits on the tufted leather sofa, and her grin is expectant.

You kneel. Then, you bring your palms to the floor and crawl towards her. Only stopping when your chin is on her knee and you bring your eyes to meet hers.

"Sweet thing," she'll coo. Her palm is soft and cared for, but there is the slightest bit of callousness here and there. That roughness that comes with holding a gun to someone's head.

The first time she had told you to kneel, you'd been so confused you stood there like a statue. Seo-Yun gives you a minute to let it click, and she tilts her head as you jerkily kneel on her expensive floors.

"Crawl to me."

"Sweet darling," she continues. Your eyes flutter close as she traces your cheekbones with her thumb. "So good for me, so obedient, aren't you?"

How could you not be?

In the weeks you'd been with her, your life took such a drastic turn. Well-fed, well-cared for, and pampered in little but big ways. You were the runt of the litter, a stray, she told you.

She had seen you, she said. She had seen your potential, your drive, your passion.

"I was...I just, I just needed the money, Madam," you sheepishly admit that first night, balancing your chin on her knee.

Who would choose to become the grunt of a dangerous gang? Miniscule soldiers with dreams of dying a movie-worthy death, of brotherly bonds between hardened criminals — Please. You were at the end of your rope, this was the only option before the noose.

"Money is life," Seo-Yun strokes over your cheeks. "You fought to live, climbed through the muddy filth of the pier, and here you are. In my lap."

"I see you, (Y/N)."

"Are you tired?" the shake of your head earns a firm squeeze on your jaw. Your eyes flutter open so she grins sweetly.

"Bathe with me." She lifts your chin and you stand, taking her into your arms as she tugs on the shoulder gun strap you wore, leading you along like a leash. A security guard's job does not include such tasks. You're aware. But how could you say no to the most powerful woman in Seoul?

Your relationship starts off with a clear dynamic. You belong to Seo-Yun, no ifs or buts. No matter how dubious your feelings towards her are, you cannot deny there is such a lovely prospect of being a powerful person's beloved.

Or gem. Or pet. Or...whatever it is Seo-Yun considers you as.

All you know is you are hers and she expects nothing but loyalty and excellence from you. She dresses you in the best, feeds you the best foods, your mattress is hers and therefore it is fit for a Queen.

How spoiled are you, (Y/N)?

So spoiled you do not even realise the pretty cage she's put around you. Don't realise that those pearly white gates are her own teeth as she closes her jaws; too distracted by the gifts, the love, she showers you in.

Exactly how she wants you to be. Pliant, demure, and hers.

So what if your old friends suddenly never contact you again? Or your financial dependence has suddenly been transferred to her? If you never hold a gun in your hands ever again.

"Crawl to me, baby."

And you do. And she grins as she holds your face.

"Good pet."

Kim Jeong-Hyun —

Jeong-Hyun is a peculiar man. Some would argue he's barely a man; others would chime that he's barely human. The sight of the deep scars on his body; the mutilated side of his face. His left ear was chewed off, his left eye cloudy, and a good chunk of his lips ripped off to reveal gums and teeth.

Even if he wasn't a monster; he looked it. That was enough to set people on edge. Seemingly unaware of how he plants the fear of God within people, Jeong-Hyun stares at everyone with a dark gaze that could make the devil shiver.

Unlike his older sister, who hides her emotions until they spill over the edge, he makes his interest known from the beginning.

His good eye, lighter than any brown you've ever seen; a molten hazel that flashes gold in sunlight, devours you as he stands before you.

Although Madam Seo-Yun attends the funerals of her fallen men, she does not linger for the drinking and eating. Jeong-Hyun does.

You'd excused yourself from your circle, the drinks making your body warm enough to endure the cold night air as you light up a cigarette.

The clicking of nails on the brick ground forces you to look at the whimpering dog. Mangy, fur matted, and with its stubby legs like rubber as it paws at your shoe. It was someone's pet, left on the streets. Judging from the overgrown fur, it's been a while since someone's given it any kindness.

Jeong-Hyun had just walked out for a breather (he enjoys spending time with his men, but the noises and the scent of booze could get overwhelming), a bag of meat in hand as he set his sights on feeding the local strays.

But then he sees you crouched by an alleyway, pouring some cheap kibble you bought from a nearby convenience store onto some newspaper. Jeong-Hyun's footsteps are ghostlike, you don't even notice he's there until you feel his breath whisper along your ear and when you spin he's statue-like.

"B — Boss!" He's not the boss — he's just her brother. He still outranked you (by a whole league) so, he doesn't correct you as you bow your head so far down it's between your knees.

He looks silly crouched down in his two-piece suit. You're dressed formally, though the two of you were in different financial brackets. Jeong-Hyun does not speak. The pinkish scar that runs across his neck peeks from the collar of his button-up. It has your toes curling just imagining what had caused it.

He nudges the plastic bag your way, and you cautiously take it from him. To your surprise, he squishes his eyes into crescent moons, and despite his scarred cheek lifting from behind the black surgical mask he wore he looked so...innocent.

The rounded shape of his eyes, the deep crease of his eyelid, and his brows - it all makes him look boyish.

You turn your attention to the strips of expensive beef he had gotten, feeding the poor puppy in silence.

Jeong-Hyun's interest begins with him accompanying your crew as you were tasked to make a show of a traitor. He shoves the blade your way, hilt tilted your way as he connects his gaze with you.

The leader of your crew informs him you are new. He does not even pretend to hear him.

You took the blade, the forged metal heavier than you expected it to be but not impossibly so. It seemed as though it was his favorite, a little longer than a dagger but still small enough to hide under your clothes. Weighing it on your palm, you test the balance of it before gripping it tightly and Jeong-Hyun is entranced by the casual dominance you have over it.

The man before you, on his knees with his cut lip hanging heavily and his eyes so bruised you wonder how he can still see you enough to squeak in fear; he shivers and bows desperately.

"How do you want him, boss?" You glance at him, the grip on the blade strong and confident. He narrows his eyes then closes his eyes, jerking his chin forward.

' However you see fit. '

Jeong-Hyun falls in love with your violence.

Asking for you, always. Giving you food to bring back, giving you new knives and even transferring you to his personal squad of men and women. He'd even invited you into his home. Which, apparently, was not unusual but no one had ever had the pleasure of being able to see the pack of dogs he had.

He starts hanging around you more. His favoritism is hard to mask and it causes you more issues than you'd like to admit.

"You're his little bitch now, huh?" or "His cock tastes good, (Y/N)?"

But who can say no when their boss tells them they want you to follow him around, be his shadow, do nothing more than observe boring meetings and itching for the usual vulgarity of mobsters while you're stood by the wall or behind him?

The madam is not impressed by you. Whenever she speaks to her brother, she will cast a glance filled with nothing more than mild bemusement and disgust.

"Hey, boss," he tilts his head in your direction. You're sat in a barbeque restaurant, and he's watching you intently as you flip the meat, licking his exposed teeth with an almost canine-like attribute.

"...Can I ask you a question?" Jeong-Hyun nods, tearing his eyes away to now look at you. They're almost golden, you think to yourself, the colour of his eyes is so bright.

"Why do you favour me?"

Jeong-Hyung, you come to find out, does not speak. The scar you see peeking from his high collars was apparently a wound that had gone so deep, it took the ability for him to speak comfortably. So Jeong-Hyun signs; "What does that mean?"

"Favour?" You ask and he nods.

"Well, it means, why do you...like me...?"

Jeong-Hyung blinks for a few seconds then tells you to flip the meat. The conversation seemingly ends. That is until you find yourself in his home and he has invited you to his basement.

The dogs bark from behind the doggy gate, a hallway away feeling like a stretch of land as their noises echo. In the basement, you find yourself surrounded by crusted blood and metal. He lifts a dagger and shows it to you. It takes a moment for you to recognize it, it's been weeks since you've held it, but then your brows furrow.

"You kill good. Like me, I like that. I like you," he signs while you hold the dagger. "You like me?" He nods, pulling his black mask away from his face, and grins. It's surreal to see, not exactly grotesque but an unusual sight.

"I like you," he signs.

When his enthusiasm is met with confusion, Jeong-Hyun's face contorts into worry.

He takes the dagger from your hand, places it down, then holds your hands in his. He's tall, towering easily over you as he brings your knuckles to his lips.

He has essentially muted himself. Focusing his strength on keeping your hands hostage as he walks forward until your back meets the smoothed limewash walls of his basement.

"Boss? I'm flattered, but this is a lot to take in....!"

His cloudy eye is in a perpetual squint, healed scars tugging on the skin so it looks almost uncomfortable stretched. They have so much sadness that you feel guilt sprout in you.

'Love me,' they say, 'Love me, love me, lovemelovemelovemelovemelovemeloveme'

Your relationship is dubious. The jeers from your comrades make you feel more flustered than before and Jeong-Hyun is not shy about his affections.

He holds your hands in meetings and traces the shapes of your fingers and joints.

When a snake requires a beheading, Jeong-Hyun takes off your jacket for you and hands you a weapon of his choice. The men who snicker at the sight? Jeong-Hyun is not fond of guns but he so does love it when his sister presses her Beretta to the back of their necks and makes them gasp and sputter.

Madam Seo-Yun may not like you but you matter too much to her little brother for her to allow their insubordinate to make fun of you.

Jeong-Hyun is like a touch-starved puppy. Despite his towering size, he crumbles under your touch, your gaze.

"My brother, he is naive to relationships," Seo-Yun informs you during a lunch meeting. "I noticed, Madam," you shrink under her gaze. How is it she has the same shade of eyes and hers are so, so, so cold?

"But he likes you, favours you I think is the word he used. He has never liked someone before. Not as strongly as this. I suppose I should advise you to take some caution."

"My brother's love comes with a storm of violence. It runs in the family, I'm afraid. Please, don't be frightened by his displays."

You didn't quite understand what she meant.

He'd never been violent to you. You had witnessed him kill before, torture, maim — it was not an unusual sight in your line of work.

You didn't understand until you saw it.

Another funeral, more drinks, more meat. Jeong-Hyun has you beside him, eagerly awaiting your metal chopsticks to place more grilled beef onto his plate.

No one laughs at the sight anymore, they treat you as an extension of Jeong-Hyun which, considering how he monopolies your time, you might as well be. It's rare to see you without him.

But as you got up to wash your hands — someone had spilled their drinks and your hand became sticky — an inebriated man had pressed himself against you.

"You must be a good lay if *hic* Jeong-Hyun-ssi keeps you around, riiight? C'mon, just a quickie, c'mon," "Fuck! Get away from me!"

Jeong-Hyun's hand grabs the back of the man's head, rears it backward, and slams it right into the sink. It shatters, the man yells, people around you scream; but Jeong-Hyun tightens his grip, rears his hand back, and slams him down again.

By the end of that public fiasco, the man's head was obliterated so badly, his face was no longer there. Just shredded skin, muscle, and shattered bone and brain matter.

Madam Seo-Yun's gaze on you is heavy in the car. Jeong-Hyun lumbers in, his hand covered with tissues and you immediately pull the bloody fist to your lap. Approval shines in her eyes as you apply pressure and ask if it hurts.

Well, you couldn't say she didn't warn you now, could you?

[radwolf76]

I know I've told the story here before, but I actually found the Netflix promotional shirt I wore to work an after-hours Blockbuster store inventory back in 2000

So, as the story goes, at my Blockbuster, when you worked the after-midnight store inventory shift, you weren't required to wear the blue polo shirt and khakis, but could instead wear your "street clothes".

I don't even remember where I got this promotional shirt from or how (probably something to do with being terminally online since fall of 1994), but I thought it'd be a funny thing to wear while working my shift at Blockbuster.

Now at the time, they hadn't even stated their streaming service, they were just the DVD-Rental-by-Mail website. But when the neon open sign clicked off, and we'd shooed out the last customer so we could start unrolling the extension cables for the barcode scanners, the Store Manager noticed my shirt and asked me "Netflix.com? What's that?"

I laughed a little, and replied, "They'll be the death of this company." Because even back then, I knew. She said "Oh, ok," shrugged, and put the register terminals into inventory mode.

Soon after that, I got hired for a different job, the first few years of which had a decent amount of manual labor and a loose dress code, so I ended up continuing to wear the Netflix promo shirt there as well. Then I transferred to a different position with the same employer, where I had to start dressing a bit more professionally, and so this shirt sat in the bottom of my work locker for two decades until I found it again last week.

It was kind of yellowed from sweat that hadn't been washed in that long of a time span and had a nasty rust stain along the bottom hem that I'm pretty sure came from the job and not from sitting in the locker, but after washing it, I could at least get a photo of the logo for y'all. And then, knowing what to look for, I found a better image of someone else's promotional shirt. Apparently someone sold one on Etsy for $50.

[feigeroman]

Thomas Headcanons: Hiro

Hiro was built around 1937, and was unique among the thousand-odd D51s for having been constructed to standard gauge - most of Japan’s railways were built to a gauge of 3′6″. This was because many of the country’s locomotive manufacturers had licenses to construct Japanese-designed engines for export to other countries - mainly those using the same track gauge.

However, one such manufacturer - nobody is quite sure which one - wanted to expand their business to countries that employed standard gauge, and so Hiro was built as a proof of concept to test the feasibility of adapting the design to the wider gauge. Other than this, and a few other detail differences, Hiro’s design is largely the same as a conventional D51.

At the time, there were only a few small pockets of standard gauge lines across the whole of Japan, and had Hiro been intended to work on such lines, he would have been of limited usefulness. That being said, he did spent a few months flitting between these various lines for test purposes. Unfortunately, this did not result in any sales, as none of the lines that tried Hiro out had the capacity to employ such a large engine on a long-term basis.

Hiro would end up seeing more use much closer to home, as his main role was to prove the merits of his design to potential investors and buyers. Sadly, this still didn’t result in any sales or export orders, and the manufacturers began to question the wisdom of their own ambitions...

Fortunately, in early-1939, someone did finally take interest in Hiro. Namely, some representatives from a British locomotive builder - again, we’re uncertain as to exactly which company they represented. Anyway, they were suitably impressed when Hiro was demonstrated to them, and an agreement was reached whereby they would be granted the license to construct a modified version of the design in Britain. As part of the deal, Hiro himself was to be shipped to Britain, in order to serve as a test bed for these new modifications.

The arrangements took time, and were put on hold following the outbreak of the Second World War. It was not until August 1940 that any serious thought was given to trying to ship Hiro out, and it wasn’t until that September that he actually left Japan on a ship heading to Britain. It was most unfortunate, therefore, that during the voyage, Japan should end up joining the Axis Powers, effectively putting them on Britain’s most-wanted list.

Obviously this blew all the plans for Hiro out of the water, and to make matters worse, he didn’t realize anything was amiss until his ship docked at Southampton, barely a day after the alliance had made the news in Britain. As a result, all the ship’s crew and cargo were taken into custody, and Hiro himself was kept in storage while the government figured out what to do with him.

Around this same time, the British government had been setting up internment camps to hold enemy aliens - that is, people living in the country who were from any of the Axis nations (Germany, Italy, and now Japan). By far the biggest and best-known of these camps were situated on the Isle of Man, but it is also known, albeit little recorded, that additional camps were set up on Sodor - sort of as an overflow, should the number of internees become too much for Man to handle on its own.

It should be noted that Sodor’s government were pretty much forced into this course of action by their larger neighbours. They weren’t proud of this at the time - and still aren’t, as a matter of fact - and while they’ve never tried to hide it from the people, they’ve never gone out of their way to draw much attention to it either.

Anyway, the point of mentioning all this is at some point, someone had the idea of sending Hiro up to Sodor to be stored for the duration of the War. It made sense at the time, as the island was far enough off the beaten track that Hiro could be hidden with relative ease, and hardly anyone would know he was there. And if somehow his cover was blown? Well, the rest of the network rarely paid attention to the North Western Railway anyhow, and they need never find out, right?

At the beginning of December 1941 Hiro was duly transferred up to Sodor under cover of darkness, and hidden on a siding off the old Ulfstead branch line (this is the line that branches off west of Maron, and is not to be confused with the later extension of the Ffarquhar branch). This line had never been particularly well looked after, and so it didn’t take long for Hiro’s hideout to become totally overgrown with trees, completely cutting him off from the outside world.

Incidentally, the timing of this operation couldn’t have been more fortuitous. Just a few nights later, Pearl Harbour happened, and anti-Japanese sentiment in Britain skyrocketed as a result. So, yeah, it was a good thing Hiro was forced into hiding...

It seems the government all but forgot about Hiro after hiding him away, and as a result he remained hidden for forty-odd years, and in that time, the old Ulfstead line went through many changes:

Having seen limited use even before the War, the line ended up being closed altogether, following the opening of the Ffarquhar branch extension in 1972. The tracks remained in situ, serving as an alternate route in emergencies.

In 1973, however, the line was reopened in order to serve the ill-fated Boulder Quarry. Needless to say, this didn’t last long, and the line was mothballed shortly after the quarry’s closure.

Finally, in 1976, the line was reopened again, to serve the Boxford family’s newly-constructed summerhouse (the one seen in Edward The Great). How Hiro was never uncovered during the house’s construction is anyone’s guess, though in fairness the undergrowth had gotten even worse by then.

It was not until early 1981 that Hiro was finally rediscovered, and like so many things on Sodor, he was found quite by accident (although his was an unusual case, in that nobody was looking for him in the first place). In 1981, the Duke & Duchess of Boxford decided to move to Sodor permanently, and had their summerhouse rebuilt and expanded accordingly. The Ulfstead branch was upgraded to allow Spencer to access the Boxford estate, and it was while clearing back the worst of the undergrowth that Hiro’s siding was uncovered - and Hiro himself with it.

Sir Topham Hatt was naturally intrigued when he heard Hiro’s story, and decided there was no harm in letting him stay and work on the NWR. However, he at least had the sense to check this over with the British government first, and they were only too happy to let him keep Hiro - the only real difficulty came in convincing them that they’d requisitioned Hiro in the first place!

Despite having been abandoned for about forty years, Hiro was still in surprisingly good condition - when he was first hidden away, he’d been prepared so that he could be returned to service at a moment’s notice. Obviously plenty of work still had to be done on him, but his overhaul was completed in much less time than had been expected.

It was during this overhaul that Crovan’s Gate managed to put together all the plans and drawings needed to make spare parts for Hiro. Although this would prove expensive in the long run, it was still much cheaper than having to order parts all the way from Japan.

Hiro officially entered NWR service in the summer of 1981, and was allocated to Barrow-In-Furness sheds. He has remained there ever since, and mainly works on the Main Line. While he has no personal preference, Hiro is much more likely to be seen hauling freight than passengers.

His current number, 51, is apparently the one found on his tender when he was rediscovered. He believes it was originally D51, and placed there by his builders as an additional promotional aid.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, promoting, encouraging, justifying nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, yandere behavior, bullying, harassment, blackmail, sexual scenes, abusive relationship, manipulation, verbal abuse, abortion, attempted murder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟹 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚝.

𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙰𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜/𝚘.

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 .

𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had known him for the longest time, probably since you were both learning the alphabet.

Even back then he was a troublesome boy.

Loved to dip your hair in paint, pour glue inside your backpack.

Or always pushed you off the swings cause he wanted to play in it.

This didn't really faze you back then.

Most of the boys that age played such tricks on almost all the girls.

They all had a specific target and you were Wooyoung's.

You remember telling this one day to your mom, who simply chuckled.

"Honey, boys tend to tease the girls they have a crush on."

You remember looking at her with confusion.

How could they treat someone they like with such utter disrespect and rudeness?

"Because they don't know how to express their feelings."

Like an idiot you believed that, and being the naive little girl you were, you kinda started developing a crush on him.

You remember the first time you talked back to him, it's engraved in your head because it was the first time of many to come where his words, and actions, hurt you.

"Just admit you like me Wooyoung! You only tease me cause you're in love with me."

You remember the rage and disgust in his eyes as he shoved you to the ground, making you scrape your knee on the pavement.

"Get this through that dumb brain of yours Y/N....

No one will ever love a dirty little rat like you."

You came home crying that day. Hurt physically and emotionally at his words.

And the years to come weren't better, as you grew up, Wooyoung's bullying towards you escalated.

You hoped that after you graduated high school and started going to university, you'd be free from him, never see him again.

You could finally be happy for once in your life. Focus on your goals and career.

Everything was going great for you!.......

Until you walked into class and found out not only had Wooyoung been accepted to the same university...

He was majoring in the same field as you!

"Hey dirty little rat. Missed me?"

His cocky smile sent shivers down your spine, you were already fearing what he had in store for you.

If you thought high school was hell, it was nowhere near as awful as the torment Wooyoung was now putting on you.

Tripping you down the stairs to the point you had severe injuries.

Writing nasty and derogatory names on your desk that now wouldn't come off and you'd be forced to look at every time you went to class.

One time he went as far as stealing your assignments, ultimately leading to failing an entire semester.

You were so heartbroken and just done with his shit. You felt no more motivation to even continue studying.

Until a cute boy named Yeonjun transferred and took an interest in you.

He was super nice, friendly and not to mention good looking and hella tall.

It was more than obvious too that he wanted establish a relationship with you, anyone and everyone could see that.

Especially Wooyoung and he did not look the way someone else was making you happy.

So he devised a plan, not caring how messed up it was.

He made sure someone convinced you to go to a party he'd be at.

You found it odd that he was suddenly acting super nice to you, not even calling you those mild nicknames he called you in front of others.

And it shocked you even more when he suddenly apologized to you for everything he'd done to you, even offering to talk to your professor about your assignment.

His eyes seemed so sincere, you actually believed him.

Perhaps he finally decided to change, realized his behavior was unnecessary and immature and of course, like an idiot you accepted his apology.

You got wasted for the first time in your life that night and could not remember anything at all.

Until Wooyoung was 'kind' enough to brief you in on what happened.

He pulled out his phone and made you watch a video he had filmed of you two that night.

Your stomach hurled over as you realized it was a fucking sex tape, you and Wooyoung had actually fucked that night.

"What! No no! This couldn't have happened! There's no way!" You refused to believe it.

Wooyoung just smirked at you.

"Oh but it did happen kitten. You were so eager too as the video displays, you kept asking me to go harder, begging me for another round and wanting my cum all over you..."

"I wonder what would the whole school say if I posted it online....especially Yeonjun."

Now you realized what his game was. He was never sorry. It was just another form of him to torture you, and this tipped the scale.

You were so shaken up, you got down on your knees and begged him not to show anyone the video.

"Please Wooyoung! I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Anything?......really? How about becoming mine then?"

And now you were forever tied to your worst nightmare.

Wooyoung especially enjoyed seeing Yeonjun's disappointed and heartbroken look when he announced that you two were now dating.

Now he couldn't even look at you anymore, feeling somewhat betrayed by your actions.

You wanted to tell him you were sorry and explain to him what was going on, but Wooyoung had eyes on you 24/7.

He even made you move in with him and now even your free time had to be spent with him.

You hated living with him.

He not only made sure to verbally abuse you, but actually seemed to have fun causing tiny accidents to happen around you.

His favorite was when he'd peer over your shoulder as you tried to study.

He scoffed. "Why even bother if all you'll ever be good at is spreading your legs?"

Those were his favorite insults: "whore" "slut" "bitch".

One time you were just so fed up with him, that you ended up snapping back.

"Shut the fuck up Wooyoung! You're such an insufferable piece of shit, no wonder your mom left you and your dad back in middle school."

As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back in.

Wooyoung was livid at your words.

He not only yanked you up by your hair, but he actually threw you to the floor and started kicking you harshly.

He didn't kick you for too long though, he did not want to risk anyone questioning when he told them you fell down the stairs.

And especially not take you to the hospital.

You had no choice but to stay home as you tried to recuperate.

You remember one of those days, you came home from a quick trip to the convenience store and found some girl blowing Wooyoung on the couch.

You weren't fazed. He often brought girls home and fucked them right in front of you.

You just sighed and decided to ignore the shit eating grin he'd give you whenever you caught him.

You decided long ago it wasn't worth it.

You two weren't even dating cause you wanted to.

He just loved controlling you, having power over you, holding something over your head.

He had this obsessive need to make you miserable.

And you hated that you had no choice but to allow it.

Even when there were things you didn't want to do, you had to or he'd once again blackmail you.

The one time you adamantly refused to was when you found out you were pregnant.

Wooyoung was just as shocked as you.

"And you're telling me I'm the father?"

"Uh......I can't have sex with anyone who isn't you, obviously you're the father."

Wooyoung couldn't let you go through with the pregnancy.

"Get rid of it." He told you.

You wrapped a protective hand around your bump.

"No! This is my baby and I won't allow you to harm it!"

You weren't going to budge though.

"Show the tape to everyone! I don't give a fuck anymore! But I'm not killing an innocent child who has done nothing wrong. "

Realizing he was losing control of you, Wooyoung knocked you out unconscious, deciding to take matters into your own hands.

You woke up a day later, feeling sore and aching in your inner thighs and lower abdomen.

You immediately panicked and sensed something was wrong.

You didn't need Wooyoung to tell you, you knew he had taken you to a clinic and had the baby removed.

You were so shaken up, cried your eyes out and no longer had any will to fight against Wooyoung.

You felt like it all all your fault, the death of your baby was your fault.

You weren't strong enough to save it and it was killing you inside.

You no longer trusted anyone, and you didn't have the heart to talk about it to anyone. Not like they'd believe you or care about you.

But someone did notice, Yeonjun never stopped caring about you and although he was hurt you went with someone else, he still had feelings for you.

And he was very observant and noticed that ever since you started dating Wooyoung, you were skipping a lot of classes....

And you were having a lot of accidents...too many in fact.

And now he just saw you completely lost and like a walking dead.

"Hey Y/N, are you ok?" He asked you one day.

You were going to respond, but the devil made an appearance by your side.

"She's fine and was just coming home with me. Weren't you baby?"

To everyone, it looked like a sweet and caring smile from your doting boyfriend, but you knew it was all fake.

Nonetheless you just kept your head low and went home with him.

Yeonjun noticed the way you trembled when he put his arm around you, noticed the frightened look in your eyes and he knew something was wrong in your relationship.

When you got home, Wooyoung was pissed off at you and immediately struck your face.

"I thought I told you not to talk to him! Can't you obey a simple order you fucking bitch?!"

When he pulled out a knife from the kitchen, you were now scared for your life.

You tried to fight back, but Wooyoung was stronger than you and you were still in pain after the abortion.

He knocked you to the floor and managed to land 2 stab wounds into your right side.

You could never forget the wrath and hate in his eyes as he told you:

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

By some miracle, someone taller and stronger than Wooyoung got him off you, that someone being none other than Yeonjun.

He felt glad about following his hunch and followed you both back home, otherwise he'd end up reading about you in the newspaper.

He had no trouble in subduing Wooyoung and calling the police.

The only thing on his mind was getting you to the hospital as soon as possible.

"It's ok Y/N. You're going to be fine." He assured you

Your physical injuries were easy to recover from, but the emotional trauma and abuse Wooyoung put you through was not.

Yet Yeonjun was there every step of the way, going with you to therapy and just listening to you and your terrifying story.

For the first time in your life, you felt truly loved and happy....

And safe.

A year after the ordeal, you were doing much better and were nearly fully recuperated.

Yeonjun and you rented a place together and were completely in love with each other.

Everything seemed to be going perfect....

And then one day your phone rang.

Picking up, you asked "Hello?"

"Don't think it's over yet you dirty little rat."

[five-rivers]

Cold Case

So, this is a continuation of Interview With a Ghost, my corpse AU.  Sort of.  Lots of outsider perspective.  

But, I’m too lazy to hunt down the tumblr links.  So.  Here’s the AO3 link to the series.  

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McGee braced himself before getting out of his car and walking into the precinct.  He’d heard all the jokes before, all the mindless digs at his name, and he liked to think that he’d grown a thick skin in response, but part of him still flinched every time.  

Plus, there was a reason he’d been sent to Amity Park.  That reason being the incredibly suspicious crime rate.  That is, the just shy of nonexistent crime rate.  Also, the billionaire mayor that had popped up out of nowhere.  And the high road repair and park maintenance bills.  

Oh, yeah, and the giant murder investigation that had just.  Disappeared.

The county wanted answers.  So, they sent McGee.  Of course, they didn’t tell the Amity Park Police Department that.  As far as they knew, he was just a transfer. Someone being shifted from one department to another.  

So, yeah.  Bracing.  Just like the wind.  Ouch, it was cold.  McGee wrapped his coat more closely around himself and began jogging through the otherwise deserted parking garage.  

The… underground parking garage.  Wind?  

McGee stopped and turned in place, trying to see where the breeze could have possibly come from.  There weren’t exactly any windows down here.  

Feeling more cautious, but not knowing why, McGee made his way more slowly to the elevator door and hit the call button.  The doors opened immediately.  Inside, a speaker tried to play music, but what came out of it was mostly ear-tearing static.  

Well.  If APPD was getting paid off by a mob or the town was skimming from road funds, they certainly weren’t using their ill-gotten gains on the elevators.  

When the doors opened, McGee was hit with a blast of warm air and Christmas music.  He kept his face carefully blank.  It had only just become December, and the police station was… it was… Well. McGee would have to call it ‘decked out,’ no matter how much he abhorred the phrase.  

… Why were there so many menorahs?

“Hey, are you John McGee?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said McGee, turning to face a remarkably plain man in a button-down shirt and a pullover sweater.  

The man had a pair of novelty felt antlers on his head.  They were decorated with bells.  How unprofessional.

“I’m Collins.  We’ll probably be working together at some point.  Same department.”

“Homicide?”

Collins raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t know what you were told, but we don’t have enough homicides to warrant a dedicated homicide department.  We get a one or two mysterious deaths every month, but it always turns out to be, like, anaphylaxis or something.”  He brought a mug to his lips and sipped slowly.  “Mostly we do vice, theft, fraud, and missing persons. Not much of that last one, either. Oh, we had an arson one time.  But it turned out it wasn’t really arson. Anyway, let’s get you checked in, and hopefully Patterson will be here by the time Captain Jones is done with you.”

“Patterson?”

“My partner.  You know, you being here gives us an odd number of detectives.  That’s going to be weird.”  He sipped from his mug again.  “Maybe we’ll promote someone.  Not Cameron Daily, though.”  Collins stared into the middle distance.  “No. Not Cameron Daily.  Love that man. He’s got to stay in tech support.”

“The captain?” prompted McGee.  

“Hah.  Yeah. You have to brave the secretaries, first.”  Collins patted McGee on the shoulder, and McGee suppressed the impulse to shake him off. “Good luck.  At least this is going to be a quiet month, right?”

.

McGee spent what was probably far too much time pondering what Collins had meant by ‘it’s going to be a quiet month.’  Did the APPD’s arrangement with the local criminals (because there had to be an arrangement) include forewarning concerning the crimes they did deign to investigate?  Or did they have statistics that indicated December was a low-crime time for Amity Park?

Orientation was highly typical, as far as these things went.  The only oddity were the advertisements and promotional pictures for the local tourist trap tapped up all over half the captain’s office.  Was the man a fan?  Did he believe in that ghost nonsense?  Was it some kind of bizarre joke?

At least the Christmas plague hadn’t made it this far.

“Right, now that we’ve got that part out of the way, let’s move on.  We normally like an even number of detectives, but the county moved you over so fast we couldn’t get you a partner, and no one is retiring.”  Jones rolled his shoulders and fixed McGee with a very sharp gaze.  “Do you know why the county was so… insistent with your transfer?”

Ah.  So, the captain was suspicious.  Time to put that backstory to good use.  

“Honestly, sir, I embarrassed someone, and I think they just spun the wheel on how to get rid of me.”

“Mhm.  See, usually when they do that, they pick from departments that actually put in requests for extra personnel.  We haven’t.”

“I think the main concern was just to keep me away.”

“I see.”  The level of suspicion in the man’s eyes did not change.  “You’re going to be with Patterson and Collins until you get your feet under you and we decide what to do about the partner situation. If the county will even let us out another detective on payroll.  Consider yourself on probation as far as whatever it is you’re doing with the county. Don’t put my detectives in danger.”

“Sir—”

“Whatever excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it. Go talk to Collins.  I know you met him.  Patterson probably isn’t here yet.”

.

Collins stood next to a woman in a coat with a long dark braid.  Both of their backs were to McGee.  He could see that they were talking to one another, making tight little gestures with their hands near their chests.  All the other occupants of the room stared at them without a modicum of shame.  

“—until he sees his first fight?  We’re supposed to babysit him until January?  We won’t be able to talk about anything!”

“Well, if you’d been on time, maybe we could have convinced the captain not to—”

Someone behind McGee cleared their throat. Loudly.  Collins and the woman turned, sheepishly.  

“Oh.  McGee. McGee, this is Patterson. Patterson, this is McGee.  You’ll be working with us, apparently.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of your hair before too long,” said McGee.

“Don’t count on it.  How long have you been in town?” asked Patterson.  

“Only since yesterday.  Why?”

“We’re showing you around,” said Patterson, snatching the antlers from Collins’s head.  

“Consider it your last bit of freedom before you’re condemned to paperwork,” said Collins.  

.

Amity Park was odd, McGee decided.  

It wasn’t just the clashing but equally enthusiastic Halloween and Christmas decorations, the omnipresent construction, and the worrying number of holes in the road (really, there was no way the road repair budget was actually getting used on the roads).  There was something else.  Something McGee couldn’t put his finger on.  Something—

He did a double-take.  Were those two cosplaying the Ghostbusters?  Why?

How seriously did these people take their tourist trap nonsense?

“What are Jack and Maddie doing out?” asked Patterson.

“I don’t know,” said Collins.  He tilted his head to one side and pulled into a nearby convenience store parking lot.  “You’d think they’d be told; December is a quiet month.”

“Mhm.  Maybe they didn’t believe it?”

“They can be stubborn sometimes,” mused Collins. “But it would be nice if there was some action.”  He pulled the parking brake.  “You want to introduce McGee to the local celebrities?”

A look of indescribable disgust appeared on Patterson’s face.  “Why don’t you introduce them?”

“I did that last time.”

“No, you didn’t.  You rang their doorbell and then ran like the coward you are.”

Collins, without any hint of repentance, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“This is different,” she protested.  “This isn’t just any new resident.  This is a coworker.  A coworker who isn’t going to see that kind of action for a whole month.”

“Action?” asked McGee.  This felt perilously close to what he’d been tasked to find out.  

“You’ll find out in a month,” said Collins. “Assuming you last that long.”

McGee frowned, and decided to take another risk and prompt the pair further.  “I know you have a low crime rate here,” he said, “but I’m sure there will be something for us to investigate before the end of the month.”

“Well, yeah,” said Collins.  “We don’t get paid for doing nothing.”

There was a sharp rap on the window, and everyone jumped.  God. It was just some kid.  McGee put a hand over his heart and tried not to think too hard about the time he had almost been killed in his car by a dirty cop and his gangster friends.

Collins rolled the window down, letting in a gust of frigid wind.  

“Hi, detectives!” chirped the teen.  “I heard you got a new guy!”

Oh.  That was interesting.  Was the local gang using children as in-betweens?

“Yep,” said Patterson.  “This is McGee.  McGee, this is Danny, the only sane Fenton.”

Danny tipped his head to the side and squinted. “I think that title needs to go to Jazz.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you, but your sister is a lunatic,” said Patterson, completely serious.  

“Come on, you’re just saying that,” said Danny, staring openly at McGee.  

Did this kid blink?

“Anyway, I’ve introduced McGee to one Fenton, you get to do the others,” said Patterson, poking Collins in the ribs.

“Danny doesn’t count,” protested Collins, squirming. “He’s sane, like you said.”

“You’ll have to be fast.  Mom and Dad are like three blocks down the street chasing…”  He trailed off.  “Well, they think they’re chasing something, anyway.  Transient noise on their latest EMF reader.”  He rolled his eyes and finally blinked.  

“Think they might actually get anything?” asked Patterson.

“Nothing with a mind,” said Danny.  “Might have to play animal control soon, though.”  There was a loud crash and a squeal of rubber, followed by distant but still deafening engine noises.  Danny winced.  “Can you please give them a fine for driving around in that thing?”

“They have a special permit,” said Collins, shrugging.  “Straight from the mayor.  Nothing we can do.”

“I will bribe you to do something.”

McGee choked.

“With what?” asked Collins.  “You’re a penniless middle schooler.”

“Excuse you,” said Danny, crossing his arms. “You know I’m in high school.”

There was another crash.  

“Are you sure they haven’t found anything?” asked Patterson, leaning forward.  

“Absolutely positive,” said Danny.  He sighed.  “I should probably go, though.”

“Okay, have fun, Danny!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of introductions, Patterson,” grumbled Collins.  

.

“Alright,” said Collins, opening a narrow door and turning on the buzzing yellow light within.  “Your kingdom awaits!”  He gestured grandly, disrupting clouds of dust.  “You’ll be entering old cases into the system.  Did Cameron Daily show you how?”

McGee’s lips twisted at the memory of the computer tech.  “Yes,” he said.  

“Yeah, Cameron gets that reaction,” said Collins, thumping McGee on the back.  “If it makes you feel better, he’s usually in charge of keeping track of the cults. Did he tell you about the VHS evidence?”

“The cults?”

“Yep.  You’ll learn about those later.  VHS?”

“Yes, he told me how to handle the VHS.”

“Great.  So, Patterson and I will be working on case paperwork in the main room, if you have any questions, come get us, okay?”

“I will,” said McGee.  

Collins nodded.  “If we wind up being assigned a case, we’ll come get you.”  He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.  “The captain probably won’t give us anything today. Oh, and if Mayor Masters drops in, redirect him to the front desk.  There’s no reason for him to be back here.”

There was a good deal of hostility in Collins’ tone. Interesting.  

“Do you not get along with the mayor?”

“We get along fine,” said Collins.  “He just oversteps his authority, sometimes.”

“I… see.”

“Not yet you don’t,” said Collins, softly, before turning to walk away.  A “Good luck” was tossed casually over the man’s shoulder and seemed to echo in the air despite the hall being far too small for that to happen.  

McGee turned to his work and smiled.  They shouldn’t have left him alone with the records. This was where he did his best work. There was always a paper trail somewhere.  

He opened the department-issued laptop and brought up the digital filing system.  

It was odd, though.  He’d spent years in the police, and he’d never heard of Fenton & Foley Information Systems.  

.

The department computer filing system was a miracle.  McGee meant that completely, as a connoisseur of filing systems.  He wondered if he could get the county to adopt it, assuming it didn’t tie back to the mob or something equally unsavory.  

On the other hand, it was only a couple months old, by the looks of it.  It was, therefore, mostly empty, as compared to the almost infinite number of filing boxes in the record room.  

The record room was not well organized.  In fact, it was barely organized at all.  Several of the boxes looked like they’d been beaten with a bat, others were singed.  A few dripped with something sticky and green. One or two looked as though they’d been drenched in water and then left to dry in a dark, damp room.  Only about half of them were labeled.  

To top it off, towards the beginning he’d found a post-it that had said: Boxy, if you steal these again, I’m going to leave you in the thermos for a week.  -Phantom

The people here were way too into their tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they weren’t just tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they were a front.  

He’d put that on his list of things to investigate.

But first, first, he was going to find the records for the murder that was recently swept under the table.

The newest boxes, despite being reasonably intact and therefore unique, weren’t easy to find, but he was able to drag them out and sit down with his laptop.  He could enter as he searched, and thereby give the illusion that he was a completely normal transfer more credence.  

Except.

Except.  The records for that murder didn’t seem to exist.  Not even in the cold case box.

“Hey.”

McGee jumped.  Patterson was standing behind him, holding two paper coffee cups.  

“How’s it going?” she asked.  “I know these records are hell.”

“Fine,” he said.  

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”  He took the offered cup from her.  “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but when I was working up at county, I heard that you had a murder case here, recently?  You dug up a teen’s body?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Patterson was unperturbed.  “Yeah, that was pretty exciting.  Collins and I were on that.”

“I can’t seem to find the records for it.”

“Yeah.  Well, there wasn’t any foul play.”  Patterson shrugged.  

“Wasn’t he found buried in a public park?”

“Well, aren’t you informed,” said Patterson. She sipped her coffee aggressively through the plastic stirring straw.  

“So, you found an illegally buried teenager’s corpse and just… dropped it?”

“We investigated it,” said Patterson.  “There wasn’t anything there.  Case was cold even without that.”  Another long, aggressive sip.  She couldn’t possibly be getting any coffee up through that straw.  It had to be mostly air.  

This was the most bizarre intimidation tactic McGee had ever come across in his entire life.  This was saying something.  Once he’d worked with a man who’d pretend to have the flu during interrogations.  

“You should still have records for the investigation.”

Patterson shrugged.  “You’d have to ask Captain Jones about that.  Anyway, I brought a bunch of tapes for you, too.  You’ll have to rewind them by hand, though, when you finally get to them.”  Another sip. “Are you planning on doing the salvage boxes?”

“The what?”

“The salvage boxes.  The ones that got fished out of the lake.  Wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.  Just curious.”

“I’m- They were in a lake?  Why?”

“Stick around and find out,” said Patterson.  “Did Masters come bother you yet?”

“Mayor Masters?”

“The one and only,” said Patterson, raising her coffee in a mock toast.  

“Why would he come here?”

“Because you’re new, and theoretically a weak link. Oh, yeah.  One more thing.  I know your check-out time is in half an hour, but come back around eight, okay?”

“Why?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you hazing me?”

“That’s what the salvage boxes are for,” said Patterson.  “Come back at eight.  Bye.” She waved as she left.  

Great.  What was he supposed to do about that?

.

He didn’t go home after checking out. Instead, he walked around town.  Patterson and Collins’ tour had been… interesting. Not terribly informative.  They had given him an overview of various restaurants, ‘paranormal hotspots,’ and places where dumb kids gathered to experiment with drugs of dubious legality.  

But they had avoided certain parts of town.  McGee had noticed.  

True, some of that was likely coincidence, but McGee had never heard of a public cemetery that wasn’t the site of something shady. Sure, a good caretaker would chase off anyone messing around in daylight, but cemeteries and graveyards just attracted trouble.  Even if that trouble was just the local goth kids running around while high out of their minds.  

But this cemetery, evidently, is different. Because there’s an unholy amount of people there for something that supposedly hallowed ground.  Is this also part of the weird ghost-theme the place had going for itself?  Were those tourists?  In the graveyard?  

That seemed to be in remarkably poor taste.  

McGee pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and lengthened his stride.  This whole town was in poor taste.  

Oddly, everyone seemed to be gathered around the same grave.  Maybe it was a funeral?  No, the ground in front of the headstone was long since patted firm, and the headstone, while obviously fairly new, had some evidence of weathering even from a distance.

Had there been a celebration today?  Memorial Day wasn’t today, was it?  McGee always lost track of those fiddly little holidays.

Huh.  The headstone was blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to a nearby woman.  “Do you know who was buried here?”

“You… don’t know?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise.  

McGee grinned.  “I’m new in town, I’m afraid, and I just saw all these people here… I’m curious, I guess.”

“Oh,” said the woman.  She looked away, every part of her body language screaming that she was coming up with a story to feed him.  A lie.  Or, at least, deciding which lie to use.  “Well, there was a body found a few months ago?  No one ever identified him, so… He was buried here?  We just, um.  It was sad, you know?  You’ll probably hear more about it if you stick around.”

Despite almost everything she said being a statement, she still managed to make everything but the last sentence sound like a question.  

Even if it was a lie…

“I hadn’t, actually.  Can you tell me what happened?”

… Maybe it was just what McGee needed.

[homosociallyyours]

22!

if you could write your own TV show, what would it be like?

NONNYYYYY you just came for my heart here!!! i have A LOT of tv show ideas! I’m just gonna spit one out: 

ensemble comedy set in a chain coffee store. the employees are diverse and so is the clientele, and mostly we get to see regular people trying to make enough money to survive at a kinda shitty customer service job. there are some custies who are full cast members: person who works from the cafe but nobody can exactly tell what they do (a regular running gag is that someone thinks they’ve figured it out and then that theory is disproven); unhoused person who isn’t treated as a joke or a menace, but a full human being; student/single parent. 

The staff is comprised of 5 people: manager (a young up-and-comer who was transferred in when the last manager abruptly quit). 3 employees per shift, sometimes there’s overlap when they come in for shift change. 1) older, put upon person who feels they should’ve been promoted (they weren’t bc they clearly are NOT a good manager! but you really can’t tell them that); 2) 20-something coffee snob who would rather be doing Real Coffee Work but has settled for a barista job; 3) roommate of the coffee snob who actually doesn’t drink coffee and actively discourages ppl from buying it, 4) young person working afterschool and weekends, enthusiastic and bubbly; 5) college student who seems to be constantly changing majors-- very overtly Weird in a performative way. 

The rest is behind a cut because I really went for it! 

I would want it cast genderblind, basically, but with an eye toward a cast that had cis and trans women and men of different races-- essentially what it looks like when you actually go into a lot of chain coffee shops, especially in cities. 

The manager seems to love corporate but actually feels dragged into it-- their relative is one of the higher ups and expects manager to make the place succeed no matter what. What the manager actually wants is to escape the corporate life, but they feel trapped initially and (after s1) personally invested in the shop. Their arc is coming to a place of being able to shift into doing what they want to without regret-- they’d rather teach, and figure out a way to go to school and eventually do that instead. 

Older employee is gay and not out at work, fearing corporate retribution. A couple other employees learn they’re gay and support them without outing them. Their arc is coming to a place of trusting themselves and stepping back from needing so much control. They actually end up taking over for the manager. 

Coffee snob actually is a coffee snob, but figures out that maybe they also like the people aspect of things too? Ends up connecting with the unhoused person and they work together on a lot of personal issues with addiction that have hurt them in different ways. Their arc is figuring out how to let go of the need to be impressive and actually listen. 

Roommate goes through a lot of phases and causes throughout the show, seemingly a ‘flavor of the week’ activist until they find the thing they truly care about and actually turn out to have a laser focus on it. They spend a lot of time trying to figure out the mysterious customer’s job. In the end it’s related to what they want to do and the two of them end up helping one another (possible romance) 

Young person is actually working to support their family, and beneath their bubbly exterior is a lot of emotion and fear. They are one of the ppl who learns about the older gay employee. Throughout the show they learn when and how to ask for help and to not always keep up that happy mask when things are hard. They end up being recommended for a job with corporate that gives them a much higher salary and makes supporting their family a lot easier. 

Person constantly changing majors/the quirky one observes the college student and often encourages them to seek out “The Truth” until it’s revealed that the student is a single parent and school is very much career driven for them. Quirky ends up helping out with childcare during an emergency, and really bonds with the kid, who’s also kinda quirky. Possible romance with the single parent. Quirky is still a weirdo, but they’re a responsible weirdo who ended up letting go of the safety blanket that was their constantly shifting major. 

Thirty minute episodes with seasonal arcs as well as the longterm character arcs and single ep plots. A little soapy, sometimes, but not overly so. 

Is anyone still reading? I went OFF, soz. 

[ardentmuse]

Perchance a Parchment (George Weasley x Reader) - Part 5

Harry Potter - George Weasley x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: In the aftermath of their failed meet-up, MC builds the confidence to do a few things she’s always needed to do and George finds the courage to follow his heart.

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

A/N: Not how I expected to spend this morning, so I hope you all enjoy this surprising update.

As you hung the last of the signs advertising your last big hurrah, a bookfest filled with live readings, stage performances, children’s theater, and sales galore, Patricia finished sending the last of the owls to the authors you wished to be featured.

You slumped down on your respective chairs in the middle of the store. But you only got settled when you heard the chime of the doorbell.

“Where’s my sweet girl?” Tom called from the door. It was hard to see his head over the giant pile of boxes and bags from the various local sellers. With two great strides, he dropped the bags unceremoniously upon your counter before turning and offering you both a giant, cheeky grin.

But his face fell the minute he saw the decorations and posters you had placed around the store advertising your big event this weekend.

“What’s all this?”

“Our last push to try and save the shop,” you said as you stood to offer him a hug, and to ask a few questions.

He huffed, “Don’t bother.” And before you could process the shock of those words, your face contorting into a horrible scowl, he barrelled forward with his own monologue. “Bill Weasley was promoted this week, something regarding ministry relations--”

“Don’t say the name Weasley in my shop, Thomas,” you mumbled under your breath. But Tom was a bulldozer, completely ignoring your obvious cues of discomfort.

“-- but it doesn’t matter. With his promotion comes my promotion! Gringotts has decided to transfer all of his territories to me. We leave for Egypt Saturday!”

Your mouth fell open in shock.

“Isn’t that great, babe?” Tom asked, clearly dissatisfied with your response, though it seemed he would have been dissatisfied with anything that wasn’t you flinging your arms around his neck, kissing him profusely, and deeming him your savior.

After a few seconds of you still not saying anything, the only sound the movement of Patty to excuse herself from the clearly tense situation, Tom pressed forward. He reached a hand into one of the bags, pulling out a lovely powder blue silk scarf, woven with silver string in the shape of stars.

“For the sand. Don’t you like it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to process the level of anger you are feeling. Tom just assumed you would drop your life to pursue his dreams, didn’t even once stop to ask you first. You always knew Tom was ambitious and loved your desire to adventure, but you were older now, more boring maybe. You wanted stability, to dig deep and make roots. After years of living light, your heart called so strongly to be heavy. And you had hoped Tom’s heart called for that too…

“Tom, I’m not going to Egypt with you.”

“Oh, Merlin, babe, I’m--” he stopped his cheerful ramble when he realized what you had actually said. He dropped the cloth upon the counter. “Are you serious?”

You sighed, “I have a shop to run.”

“That will be closed in a week!” Tom protested. “I know you are worried about money, but don’t be, Y/N. I’ve got us covered. You don’t need to do anything but let me take care of us.”

“This isn’t about money, Tom!” you found yourself screaming, “This is about having something that’s mine. I don’t want to just follow you around my whole life. I’m my own person. I have my own goals.”

Tom grabbed your shoulders in his large hands, trying to stabilize you. It was a gesture that would normally feel supportive but today only made you feel suffocated.

“I know, I know, and I want you to. You can write a book or do charity work or focus on starting our family. Come on, sweetie. Be realistic. I love your drive, but does it have to be here in this crudy shop over some old books?”

You found yourself being lulled by the sweet timbre of his voice - maybe travelling the world again and writing a book beside him wouldn’t be a bad thing - until he said that one word.

“Crudy?”

You pulled away harshly.

“We both know this was just a pipe dream. Very few businesses make it on Diagon Alley. Most of the shops have been here hundreds of years. Well, except the Weasleys.”

“DON’T SAY THE NAME WEASLEY IN MY SHOP, THOMAS!” you screamed this time, causing your boyfriend to throw up his hands in mock terror.

Realizing how much things had escalated, you both pause and breathe. You take a seat down upon your chair, processing what Tom just told you. He never supported you or your dream. You loved him, yes, and he loved you, too. But it seems you may have loved shadows of yourselves. Tom loved the you of three years ago, the one who found more happiness upon his arm than on her own two feet. And you loved a Tom who helped you find home after years of running, the one who taught you what connection was, even if he wanted that connection to only be with himself alone.

“I don’t love you,” you breathed out loud, only now realizing the freeing weight of saying the words out loud.  “I mean, I love you the way I love any friend but I don’t love you.”

You looked up from your hands to take in Tom’s face, blank and cold and only slightly confused.

“You don’t love me?”

Your eyes scanned his square jaw that you used to love running your fingers across, the lips that used to draw yours forward in lust or longing, the curls you used to pull in passion or pat in comfort, and the eyes that bore into you now in question, and you couldn’t help but wonder how long you had hoped he might be someone else. Had it been always? Had you been so blind to not see that what you loved was having someone, not this someone in particular?

“No,” you whispered with a slight shake of your head.

Thomas let out a deep breath before staring at the ceiling of your shop. His back pressed hard against the counter as he let his grip grow tighter. After a moment, his gaze turned to you once more. But you didn’t see the pain there that you had imagined. Just a stray tear and something akin to relief.

“I don’t love you either,” he admitted. “I hoped I might someday, but–” he cut himself off with another huff before taking a step towards you. “You are my best friend. You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re beautiful. We were perfect for each other.”

Tom flung himself down into the chair beside you. His hand inched towards your own and for once you didn’t feel the desire to pull away.

“Where’d we go wrong?”

You laughed, gripping the fingers of your best friend tightly for the first time in a long time -- not that you hadn’t held hands recently. Sometimes it felt like you were attached at the hands because that was what couples do. But it had been a very long time you only now realized that you could call Tom your best friend.

“Maybe in thinking friendship wasn’t enough for us? Not everything nice on paper makes sense in practice.”

Tom smiled at you genuinely before kissing your knuckles.

“You’ve always been wiser than me,” he said while returning your hand to you. “I think in the back of my head I always knew but–”

“This was easy?” you asked. He simply nodded in confirmation.

Tom stood and walked towards the counter. He collected the bags he brought in but upon picking up the blue scarf, he placed it back on the counter again with a pat.

“You deserve better than easy, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

You smiled at him, the full weight of the situation hitting you finally like a freight train. Was it possible to feel relief so acute and sadness so intense that they cancel each other out like two trains hitting head-on until each was halved and mangled, much smaller and much more dangerous?

You felt the tears begin to hit your eyes now but not at the loss of Tom but at the loss of all the stability you had spent years creating – your store, your relationship, your community, and your Rhubarb.

Tom tapped the scarf once more. “In case a vacation to Egypt seems like your next adventure. I promise you’ll have a couch to crash on, friend.” The last word sounded strange on his tongue, like a test more than sentiment. You found you could get used to it.

“I’ll take you up on that, once–”

“I know,” he said as a tear fell down his cheek. He moved forward and leaned it to kiss you like he always did when he left the shop, though this time he paused and redirected, his lips finding your forehead with precision. He held himself to you long and lasting, his tears salting your head.

You couldn’t even look at him as he walked towards the door. You heard the chime and felt your heart clench as your world fell apart in earnest. You let yourself cry now for real, letting the waves of sorrow rake your body.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask,” Tom started from the door.

You popped your head up and rubbed your eyes, damning that this would be the last he’d see of you before you reunited as friends, a gross snotty mess unable to compose herself.

“Is there someone else?” he asked, almost embarrassed at himself for asking the question, realizing he had no right now to care.

But you smiled despite yourself.

“I hope, someday.”

Tom nodded, the smile on his lips, too. “Me too.”

And with that he walked out of your shop and your life for the foreseeable future, one more part of the pristine life you had built for yourself disappearing down the lane. But unlike everything else, this one felt right and good, like you were regaining part of your strength. There was hope now for that passionate love you had told Rhubarb your heart desired, even if you had no prospects at the moment. Rhubarb, Tom, and the insufferable George Weasley you angered yourself at realizing, had given you a gift in showing you not to content yourself with just okay ever again.

George sat at the desk of his childhood home, nursing slowly the tea his mother had given him staring at a blank parchment. He was in love he now realized. And the right thing to do would be to let his love move on with her life. He had caused enough harm already.

With a huff, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the bin.

“Leave her be, you git,” he said to himself, “You destroyed her business, you led her on and stood her up. You hurt her and she deserves so much better than you.”

“Better than George Fabian Weasley?” Fred said from the door, “There is no such thing. Well, other than his more dashing twin.”

Fred threw himself down on his own childhood bed. The mattress was the same but the linens were now pink and the duvet a brilliant mint green with silver sparkles, prepared for Victoire’s monthly sleepovers.  

It clashed with Fred’s hair greatly.

“So what are we going to do about this?”

George turned in his chair to see Fred reclining on his side, his head propped on his arm and a hickie prominent upon his neck. George felt the anger grow in him just a little at how easily Fred could find a woman to warm his bed– not that George wanted a bed warmer. He wanted a heart warmer, a life warmer. He wanted you, not that he had any right to.

“There’s nothing to do. We’ve done enough.”

Fred tisked loudly.

“Nothing is set in stone, Georgiepoo.” And with a flourish, he pulled a flyer out of his pocket and tossed it to his twin.

The flyer laid out upon the desk, pristine and thick just like the parchments you always send his way.

“Story Extravaganza?” George read out loud. “What is this?”

Fred just smiles, relaxing further into his bed. “It’s your girl fighting back.”

George smiles at Fred’s phrasing. He inspects the flyer carefully, impressed by how well you seem to know your customers to provide him so many things they might enjoy.

“And,” Fred begins, his voice growing more sly, “She may be fighting for you, too.”

Fred lays another piece of parchment on the desk next to Fred, one in your own script with the same flourish he’d grown so accustomed to seeing on the parchment.

Rhubarb,

I waited for you last night and you didn’t show up. I felt so foolish. I wish I understood what held you back, but I may never know.

Even if you wish to cut ties with me, I wanted to let you know that these talks of ours have given me the courage to do something I wasn’t sure I ever would be able to do. I spoke my mind to someone last night, someone who probably didn’t even care to hear what I have to say. This big shot business guy came by while I was waiting for you. I was probably not as nice as I could have been but I was direct with what I thought. I didn’t shrivel away out of fear of how I might be perceived. I fought for what I feel I deserve. It may not have been my proudest moment mouthing off to my enemy but it meant the world to me to know that you had part in building in me that kind of strength.

Thank you.

With Fred at his back, George tried to put pen to paper once more, this time knowing what he actually needed to say.

You were busy in your office intercepting a ton of notes from various local authors, almost all of whom were excited to make an appearance at the store either to promote new work or engage with readers. A few were even bringing excerpts of unpublished manuscripts to read and one of your favorite children’s authors was bringing along a band to perform some songs for the kids.

Everything was falling into place for a big celebration. Even if you didn’t make enough money to keep the store open — hell, you weren’t even sure your landlord would consider leasing to someone other than the Weasley’s at this point — it would be a great last hurrah. This was why you started the shop in the first place— to give the community a place to celebrate stories, creativity, and imagination. At the end of the day, it was always about community.

So when a certain snowy owl dropped a letter upon the incoming stack and greeted Diomedes with soft nips of her neck feathers, you didn’t notice. It wasn’t until you had sliced through the seal and saw the handwriting that the air left your chest.

My dear Cherry,

There’s no excuse for letting you sit there alone yesterday. I can’t explain where I was but I pray you will forgive me for leaving you.

I am proud of you and I can guarantee whatever you said did not fall on deaf ears. The break from your kind spirit could not have gone unnoticed. Whatever transgression he caused you surely deserved the words you tossed his way and I am sure you looked beautiful doing it.

I regret that you found yourself in that situation, though. You were expecting a friend and found an enemy instead. I am sorry for causing you that pain.

I’ll explain some day. I promise. But in the meantime, I am still here. I am still listening. Talk to me, sweetheart.

Rhubarb

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills​, @hazelandcoconuts​, @yallgotkik​, @amberkay284​, @13ofjuly​, @daft-not-punk​, @sapphireorchid​, @geek-lass​, @ietss​, @garbdump​, 

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot

Perchance a Parchment tags: @cucumberinmyass, @justducky0423, @thequeen-ofnerds, @yuaasa, @comic-creature, @hermionebennet, @semicharmedkindofali, @sugerquill, @can-i-fangirl-yet​, @doct0rstrange, @igotmadskills, @otherthingsinhead, @olixerwxxd, @caramiriel, @gryffinclxw, @lizmar20, @indicisive-af, @confettidreameryouwhoreo-blog, @hellizhelusive2, @kaitsubaki, @dooriha, @justfollowtheroad, @memogorgon, @xxsophie-raabxx, @madamcadaver, @bookscoffeeandracoons

[greasygyeom]

Title: Blame it on Me [Part II: Where Do We Go From Here?]

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: what is someone supposed to do when they have to choose between the love of their life and the career of their dreams.

Word Count: 9.2k

Yugyeom x Reader / Angst, smut (kinda)..more angst. (i use noona but just pretend it’s y/n)

Warnings: Mature content please read only if 18+

Author’s Note: i am back after two weeks this is a character development guys. hope you like part II !! if you do leave an ask or write in your tags. i love hearing from you guys! tell me if it made you feel something. if there’s spelling errors, let me know hahaha. love you guys and thank you for reading.

Read Part I here

Your night burnt by slowly, filled with explanations and fake acceptances of congratulations that everyone showered you with; that you had no interest in. The only reason you stayed awake was because you were hoping Yugyeom would actually come back. Little did you know he’d been so drunk BamBam had to let him pass out on the couch and keep a bucket right next to him; because if drinking had taught him anything, the amount Yugyeom had, he was bound to throw up. 

You, poetically so, had also passed out on the couch. It was hard to believe that in the afternoon you were in a relationship, getting fucked out of your mind and by night you were single, bawling in your living room.

Still, he had to come back at some point, it was his house after all. How was he going to go to work without his clothes? BamBam for sure wasn’t going to let him stretch out his T-shirts.

Hanging onto that hope, you prepared breakfast in the morning, which unfortunately sat out cold until noon, while you face timed your best friend and let out all your pent up emotions.

She advised you to not hang onto the hope of him wanting to be with you for a few days extra. It wasn’t fair to him, because everything said and done, you were leaving. If there was a way around it, you would have done everything within your control to get that promotion without the transfer. Unfortunately the path you were going to take had been set in stone by your company. There was no space for any alterations left.

You didn’t want this to happen but really, what else were you expecting. This was never going to have a happy ending from the start.

Last week you’d wanted him to act like a douchebag so you could be bitter and cop out of being hurt over having to break up with the best guy you’d ever known. 

You finally understood why ‘be careful what you wish for’ was such a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

After your long distance chat, begrudgingly you got dressed for the office; even though you didn’t have to really go officially—you were off until you started at London next Friday—there was some paperwork that needed your signature. You wanted to get it over with so as to spend the next few days peacefully crying in bed.

Half-heartedly walking to the train station, you wondered if you’d even crossed Yugyeom’s mind since yesterday.

Maybe it was a bit selfish, but you wanted to know if he was thinking about you; or was it just you that was miserable.

He was.

Of course he was.

While he chugged a bottle of water, because his mouth felt like sandpaper, all he could worry about was how you were going to pack all your belongings in such a short amount of time, without forgetting the most important stuff; and how he was going to not lose his sanity over it. 

Ominously so, life had come such a full circle for him; because had your colleague not been a student at the academy, he would have never met you.

The work-life that brought you to him, ultimately took you away too. 

Funny how the universe works, right?

He’d drank so much alcohol the previous night in hopes of forgetting you that even an hour without your face swimming in his head would have been worth it. Yet, all night all he lamented about was how unfair it was that he was going to have to let you go.

His friend circle–that over time had also become your friend circle–had been made aware of the whole ordeal, so they knew what to expect. They were just surprised by the magnanimity of it. 

Yugyeom had never been heartbroken—at least to this extent. In the 10+ years of knowing him, he’d never expressed so many emotions in such little time to any of his friends. It was like witnessing a compressed pack of cocaine burst under high pressure; messy and not a good look for anyone.

When he woke up he already had a text from Jaebeom very sternly asking him to not come in to work until he got his shit together, several texts from Mark asking how he was feeling and to start hydrating his body immediately, and a whole essay from Jackson on how he should drop his tough guy act and be with you till it was time to go. 

He hated being called out like that.

Yugyeom: Hyung you’re supposed to be my friend and tell me I should forget her immediately. His text elicited an immediate response. 

Jackson: Listen you brat. I’m your friend that’s why I’m asking you to spend the last few days she is here with her. Because I know you and you’re going to regret this later.

Yugyeom: Tell me, how does it matter if she’s out of my life today or after five days?

Jackson: You won’t even try to stay in touch?

Yugyeom: No.

Jackson: Is that a mutual decision?

Yugyeom stopped replying after that, because now that he was sober, he was back to not being able to aptly express his feelings and he actually didn’t know the answer to that question. 

He’d thought about this so much yesterday, while in bed next to you. There was no expiration date on your time in London, there wasn’t even any guarantee that after London you’d come back—you could get transferred to anywhere in the world. That particular uncertainty had torn his heart into smithereens and had led him to end the relationship so abruptly. 

It had seemed logical yesterday.

Today? not so much.

You’d zoned out staring at a travel bag while window shopping. After your work was done you thought of giving retail therapy a shot, an endeavour that was proving to be extremely unsuccessful, for the lack of focus you were carrying with you.

A loud, screeching, honking bus on the road snapped you back to reality, but not really. You were still dazed and confused and within seconds wanted to go back home, wondering why you thought this was a good idea in the first place. 

You did buy three pastries and a venti on your way though, to devour your feelings once home. To discover that you’d forgotten how you lived life before Yugyeom and not understand how to combat it, was definitely taking a toll on you. The concept of being without him seemed so outlandish, it felt like a distant dream you might have had in your childhood. For now, until you found a way out of this maze, unhealthy coping mechanisms would have to do.

Truth be told, you were itching to call him. When it came to him, your ego was barely existent.

You were still plenty mad and wanted him to realise how stupid he was for not taking you up on the offer last night, of course, but you also wanted hear his voice equally badly, at the cost of him being unwilling to entertain you.

You had been postponing your urge every hour, since morning, because this time around you were reluctant to lose this battle; even though you’d already lost the war.

At 9am it was ‘Wait for another hour, maybe he’ll turn up.’ At 10am it became ‘Maybe I’ll stop by the studio’– but that was too much effort (and you were in no mood to face Jaebeom). When you were leaving for work, you baited yourself by saying you’ll call him after you were done at the office and currently you were convincing yourself to wait till you reached back home, so that at least when he ignored your calls, you could cry into a cup of tiramisu and feel better about it.

That thought was more comforting than it needed to be.

This awkwardness of not being able to wiggle your way into his life this time, was eating you inside, honestly. It’s not that you’d never had disagreements and fights before, where he’d left for Bam’s because he was too frustrated to even talk to you—in spite of him indulging his anger to a bare minimum, there had been plenty of those. But this was the only one time where saying sorry and promising to buy him chocoshakes for a week wasn’t going to cut it.

Along your route home, you bought more food—a full loaf of strawberry bread from the train station, some chips and a sandwich at the convenience store, a slice from the pizzeria nearby and finally your favourite fried chicken. Clearly, you had a lot of feelings to chew through and some days of solitude to chew them.

You hadn’t anticipated the struggle to get your apartment door to open, with all those packets hanging on your arms, trying not to spill any of the contents. What you also didn't anticipate was Yugyeom opening the door from inside, asking you to hand over some of the things you were holding.

You felt your system shut down like windows 98 being attacked by a trojan.

Was this real? Was this a delusion and you'd really just dropped everything on the floor? 

“Yu….gyeom?” You called out, afraid of not actually hearing an answer.

“Why are you still standing outside, noona?”

“Oh-uhm-I….” you fumbled, before closing the door. “This.. is-uh?? Hmm-what-what are you… doing here?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” He replied curtly.

You furrowed your brows accompanying it with frown lines on your forehead, indicative of the confusion you were unable to convey verbally. 

However, you chose not to question him further, not wanting to go wherever that interrogation would have taken you. You were more than content to see him move around at close proximity, even if it was in silence. 

There were plenty of places he could have gone, really, he didn’t have to be there if he didn’t want to; but he did want to. Oh god he’d wanted to see you so badly. More so than the hangover, it was a bizarre feeling in his chest, from the way he’d behaved with you last night, that had caused him discomfort all morning. That and Jackson’s messages. 

Was he really not even going to try to keep in touch? But then….. who likes to stay in touch with an ex? 

“Want some cake?” you asked, in an effort to dissipate the elephant in the room. “Or some other food? Pizza? You look like shit, you should probably eat something greasy.”

“You went and bought the whole shop didn’t you?” he raised his eyebrow. 

“I… did not. I was….. craving a lot of things.”

“You know, the only times you’ve bought so much food is when you’re sad about us fighting over something.”

“Well—I am sad,” you paused, “and we are fighting ... and this one seems to be the last one.”

“For now” he added and then immediately retracted his statement 

“I’m...I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yugyeom... baby,”

When did you even get close enough to do that, he wondered, as you cupped his face.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, you know?”

He put his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tender hug, because if he looked into your eyes any deeper he would have either kissed you or teared up; and neither was a good option to choose from.

“Noona will you promise me something?” he then asked, his words heavy and morose.

“Hmm?”

“Please try your best to forget me.”

You weren’t expecting that sentence to knock the wind out of your lungs, because you weren’t expecting to hear that sentence at all.

You broke away from him, tears accumulating against your will. 

“Did you come here to hurt me, Yugyeom?”

It felt like a sword was now ominously hung above your head, when you looked at him; and it could fall at any moment and sever your head.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I just…. I don’t know. Don’t hold onto some irrational hope or something. That’s all I meant.”

“Irrational hope? Really, of what? Getting back together someday? You wanna get rid of me and move on so fast that you want me to forget you? Is that it?”

“Don’t twist my words. That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You think I don’t understand that this is the end for us?”

“Just ... leave it, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah you shouldn’t have.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason you hold yourself back in London. That’s all.” He yielded, not wanting to make matters any worse.

“You know what…. I was wrong to think it would be a good idea to pretend like nothing’s changed until I get on the plane. You win.” 

The anger in your tone and your deadpan face made it very clear that you were not interested in holding a conversation about this, any further. “I’m gonna go start collecting my stuff. I should be out of your apartment and your life, by tomorrow evening.”

Before Yugyeom could react, you slammed the bedroom door shut and locked yourself inside.

One second later he was banging on the door frantically.

“Noona! Come on, open the door please.

Please, baby!”

He must have stood there trying to rotate the knob, begging you to let him inside, for at least fifteen minutes before giving up and sliding onto the floor.

This was turning out to be worse than his worst nightmare.

If he knew you at all, he knew you would want to come out to smoke soon. So he sat by the door, getting annoyed at himself for saying that and at you for taking it out of context.

Before coming here, he’d asked for Jinyoung’s opinion on whether this was a good idea or not; and Jinyoung had replied asking him to not do anything foolish. He had assumed Jinyoung meant going to his house to meet you was the foolish act. Dejectedly, he typed a text.

Yugyeom: Well…. I should have listened to you. I went to see her and you were right, it was a bad idea.

Jinyoung: when did I say that was a bad idea?

Yugyeom: you said not to do anything stupid

Jinyoung: yeah, I meant don’t go there and mess it up. I didn’t mean don’t go there at all. What did you do?

Yugyeom: oh…. nothing. 

Jinyoung: I can call her and ask.

Yugyeom: No! Fuck. please don’t do that. She’s already pissed at me.

Jinyoung: what did you do

Yugyeom: I asked her to move on

Jinyoung: huh?

Yugyeom: I don’t want her to get hung up on me and us and the maybes and what ifs when she's there. Because I know she will.

Jinyoung: and what about you? Are you going to try your best to forget her?

Yugyeom paused and stared at that question for a few minutes. No…. of course not, how could he want to forget you or anything about you. Even if every memory attached to you dug into his organs like shards of glass, he’d gladly take them all to his grave. 

Yugyeom: she doesn’t need to know if I do it or not.

Jinyoung: I’m glad God gave you the gift of dance because clearly intelligence and common sense are completely lost on you. 

Yugyeom: hyung i'm really not in the mood to be insulted right now.

Jinyoung: Jackson asked you to drop your tough guy act didn’t he? She doesn’t need you to protect her. She’s never needed anyone to protect her from anything. You should stop trying to save her from whatever it is that you think you’re saving her from.

Yugyeom: I’m not trying to do anything. I don’t want her to regret going to London.

Jinyoung: How is asking to forget you a solution to that? Say hypothetically she does forget you. In a years time she doesn’t give a fuck about what you meant to her. She meets someone else and starts dating, maybe even gets engaged. Would that make you happy?

Yugyeom: No. But she’ll be happy. 

Jinyoung: that’s your problem. You’re assuming that forgetting you and finding a new life would make her happy. 

Yugyeom: Well won’t it? Idk I just don’t want her to be hung up on us and if she gets stuck on it, I don’t think she will be. 

Jinyoung: You just said you don’t wanna move on so then why the fuck are you forcing it on her?

Yugyeom: hyung she doesn’t need to know how miserable I am. Without knowing that whenever she sees me she apologises to me. if she gets to know how much I want her to stay I’m scared she’ll turn down the promotion. She’s already thought about not going.

Jinyoung: let her make her own decisions? Right now you’re lying to her. I’m 95% sure she’s pissed because you’re trying to act unfazed by all of this.

Jinyoung: Just this one time, try to not bottle up how you’re feeling.

Jinyoung: tell her you have no interest in moving on. Be honest, man.

Jinyoung: and just saying, asking the ‘love of your life’, who calls you ‘the love of her life’, to forget you after 12 hours of breaking up is a shitty thing to do. She should have kicked you in the balls. 

He typed up a stingy reply to that but, before he could send it, the sound of you unbolting the door from inside distracted him. Hurriedly, he stood up, to catch hold of you. 

“Yugyeom, leave me alone. You got what you wanted?”, you spoke frostily.

“Are you going to smoke?”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“No.. But I wish you’d hear me out. Let me say my piece and if you’re still pissed, I’ll leave. I promise.”

After opening the window sill and lighting your cigarette, you waited for him to start. Your face was red and hurting from crying so incessantly, but you were determined to not let your emotions get the best of you, in front of him. At least, not right now. 

“When I asked you to forget me, I didn’t mean… you know, erase me from your memory or whatever. I meant give yourself a proper chance at happiness, when you’re there.”

You gave him no expressions.

“Like… I’m not dying to move on. This is killing me. I don't want us to come to an end. I even thought of giving long distance another shot… or like you know….maybe just keep in touch. But every time I thought about it, it was too painful. So I couldn’t ask you to do that because I…. didn’t wanna do that.” 

Saying that out loud made him realise how selfish he sounded. He continued his monologue when you wordlessly stood still and puffed away.

“I wanted to pretend like this isn’t hurting me, but I’m so miserable, noona. I don’t know how to live without you. I don’t even want to know how to live without you. But, I want you to live your life without me; which is hypocritical, I guess, but that’s why I asked you to forget me.”

“That’s really fucking unfair.” you interrupted. “You’re planning things for me without asking what I want. That’s not how it works. If I want to move on or not, is my decision. If I want to be miserable over you or not, is my decision. If I want to live my best life in London or not, again, is my decision. I have never loved anyone like I’ve loved you, Yugyeom; so what you asked of me was just cruel. I know I want to live in a fantasy until I have no option but to accept the outcome. I know it’s not a good way to deal with things. How could you even think  that forgetting you would ever be an option?

“I’m sorry” he pursed his lips and looked at the floor.

“When I said we have five more days, I wanted to play pretend. I was just trying to live in this denial bit longer. 

“Then… can I live in that denial with you?”

“No, I’m sorry, I gotta pack and hand over the house to the owner by tomorrow.”

“I’m sure the owner will understand if you’re delayed by a day or two or four.”

“I’m tired of running around in circles with you man”, you sighed. “No matter how this turns out, I will never not love you. Maybe in ten years time you’ll be with some other girl and I’ll be with some other dude, even then I will probably, in some capacity, still love you. And I get it if you don’t want to feel the same way, you don’t have to. But don’t ask me not to.”

“Thinking about you with someone else really fucking hurts.” he admitted, feeling a knot tighten in his throat.

“It hurts me too but you’re the one so fucking adamant about moving on like it’s gonna happen in 2 days.”

“Are you still angry?”

“Yeah, of course... but I can let it slide if you promise to forget about me.” 

“Haha very funny.”

You chuckled and he wasted no time in giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“The only thing I can promise you is that I’ll love you till I die.”

“No one is dying, baby.”

“Without you, I just might.”

“Jaebeom won’t let that happen, you’re the second reason his studio has clients.”

“What’s the first?”

“Jaebeom, obviously.”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes at you. “He’s going to have to be the only reason, till next week because I’m stuck to you till you get on that plane.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m not letting you leave that room for the next 100 hours, starting now.”

He didn’t give you much time to process his words, as he picked you up to take you into the bedroom. You tried to fake-protest to the best of your capabilities, but truth be told there was no better feeling than hiding your face in the crook of his neck; while he effortlessly carried you in.

Making his intentions for the night perfectly clear, he took off his shirt.

“Wait-wait-wait!” you yelped, pinned under his lithe form. “All the food is on the table, I'll be damned if that Tiramisu goes to waste. I’ll be back in five.”

“Make it three.”

“Okay baby.”

Then you kissed him on the nose and ran out.

Since your last reconciliation, you'd spent most of your time in bed, mostly without clothes, wrapped in Yugyeom’s arms; savouring every kiss, every touch, trying to save these ending moments in your memory, so you could replay them over and over again at the end of this week when all this would inevitably be over. Your departure was three days away and the fact that you were still unpacked was beginning to weigh down on you heavily. You were at a point where you couldn’t really avoid it any more; even though it was antithetical to the denial you’d built your cozy house in.

As much anxiety you had regarding leaving and not wanting to deal with that, there was an equal amount of anxiety related to not being prepared ahead of time. It was a lose-lose situation either way, with consequences that weren’t susceptible to change. So, you decided to rip the bandaid completely, to avoid running around like a headless chicken at the last minute.

You didn’t have to deal with the furniture, at least, because even though some of it was bought together, Yugyeom owned the apartment. You just had to sort through your clothes and products.

He wasn't the most excited at the thought of seeing you empty out the house. 

“Do you know your living situation in London?” he asked, trying to hold up a conversation.

“Yeah…they’re giving me a furnished apartment as part of the deal.”

“Wait no rent?”

“Uh-huh”

“Woah that’s amazing.” The lack of excitement completely contradicted his statement. “And who’s gonna help you set up and stuff? Won’t you need help?”

“Uhm... mum’s already gonna be there when I land. Not at the apartment, obviously, but…. in London.”

“Aah. Ok ok. It’ll be good, you haven’t seen your parents in a long time”

“Hmm I guess.”

“And your visas and shit?”

“Yeah my passport’s with the company, they’ll sort it all out and hand it to me on the day of the flight.”A

Yugyeom felt like he’d accidentally stepped on an emotional land mine. 

He was already gutted about seeing his closet empty, and now hearing your monotone voice just upset him even further. But he didn’t want to show how sad this was making him either, because then you would probably cry.

It was really frustrating.

He quickly made up an excuse to leave for a bit. “Is it okay if I go to the studio, Jaebeom hyung needs me to sort through some assessments. But if you need me to stay, I’ll tell him something.”

”No, it’s okay. I have to face time Ishi anyway. I haven't spoken to her in a hot minute. And Jae has been more than patient this past week. I’ll try to be done soon too. It’ll probably take me 4-5 hours.”

Oh.

 “I’ll definitely be back by then.”

“Or… maybe I can meet you at the station and we can go to Naksan?”

He gave you an affirmative forced grin, kissed you on the forehead and headed to the studio to redirect all the aggression he was so suddenly full of.

Just knowing that you’d be leaving a giant gaping hole in his life, was driving him nuts. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up his end of the bargain any longer. You at least would get to start over a new life, in a new place with new faces. But he was going to have to pick up pieces of his life that he knew you were about to leave behind shattered; and never look back at 

Your fragrance lingered in every corner of his apartment. His bathroom smelt like your shampoo, his closet smelt like your body spray and cigarettes, his bed.… how was he ever going to exorcise your memories out of his bed? His king size bed that had not seen a dip on the right side up until you had waltzed into his life. Everything was going to remind him of you. His favourite restaurants, clubs, hideaways—it was overwhelming him. 

“Aah fuck” he mumbled to himself, absent-mindedly walking into the studio - much to Jaebeom’s surprise.

“I thought you weren’t coming in?”

“She’s packing. I’ll break something if I have to sit through it.”

“Don’t break anything here.”

“Maybe my bones.”

“The third room is empty.”

He was barely going to be able to concentrate on whatever choreography he was going to try, but he acknowledged Jaebeom and locked himself inside.

Jaebeom also felt rather incompetent to handle the situation, since he’d never seen this volatile and mostly upset side of Yugyeom. So he just let the kid do whatever he wanted to. No one knows what to do until you actually start doing it, right? Jinyoung would probably disapprove of this philosophy, but he wasn’t there to voice his objections, so too bad!

When dancing, Yugyeom barely ever understood the concept of time, so between choosing a song, researching some new styles, to mentally animating the possible formations, 4 hours flew by. He yelped and hurriedly ran to his phone, hoping he wasn’t already late.

You sighed heavily at the other end of the call “no... I’m still working through the pile. It’s probably going to take me two hours more.”

“It’ll be too dark to go to Naksan then.”

“Yeah…. I guess. Just come home?”

“It’ll take me some more time at the studio though.”

“That’s okay, take your time. It’s a mess here anyway.”

“Hmm… I’ll see you later then, noona.”

And he went back to focusing on perfecting the new moves, even harder than before, because otherwise your voice would keep ringing in his ears. He could hear how disheartened you already sounded and he wanted to be there for you, but he had to take care of his own feelings first, before he could take care of yours.

He didn’t know he could feel such a foul mood, but that’s what his days had recently been made of. All he’d done was get blackout drunk, fight and then fuck; this wasn’t a routine he recognised at all.

It was almost nine in the night when he entered the house, fully expecting to see you still having a rough time with a mountain of clothes next to you. Surprisingly, he found you passed out next to an empty cup of coffee.

He peeked inside the bedroom and his eyes immediately went to the two giant suitcases stacked in the corner and a cardboard box balanced on top of them.

His closet now housed his bare minimum collection of T-shirts and sweatpants and the bathroom was entirely stripped of its former glory. It was depressing. He took a quick shower and considered slumping onto the bed, knowing full well he should wake you up and make you eat something.

Who was going to feed you actual healthy food in London, with him not around? Because if you had it your way, you’d call a bag of chips dinner and call it a day.

He tried with everything he had, to not care about it and went back into the bedroom, fully determined to go to sleep. Perhaps it was his frustration towards the situation that was garnering such a petty reaction. But then he thought about it for five minutes more and felt like an absolute asshole. Why was he taking this out on you? It’s not like you deliberately caused it. It’s not even like he wanted you to stay for him.

He shook his head almost aggressively, as if trying to physically shake off the bad thoughts and went back out, to do what he actually should have done as soon as he came home.

You’d fallen asleep in the most haphazard position; your head resting on your arms on the kitchen island top, and your body stretched out on the chair. It didn’t look comfortable whatsoever.

He nudged you gently, “noona?”

You barely even stirred.

“Wake up, baby”. The butterflies he gave you, at such close proximity, made you open your eyes. 

“What time is it?” you groaned, lifting your head the slightest bit.

“It’s almost 10.”

You did a little cat stretch. “Did you just get back?”

“No... it’s been a bit, I took a shower and everything”.

“Oh… okay. I was planning on taking a bath too” you trailed off, yawning through the rest of the sentence.

“I’ll make something for us till then.”he replied, thinking about what they could eat, but his chain of thought was disturbed by a phone call.

“Oh hyung, yo.” you heard him say. His energy seemed so low.

“Wait right now? I don’t know hyung.”

Inquisitively you tilted your head and he handed you the phone. The quota of patience he had for the day was very low. 

You could see Jackson’s name on the screen and you greeted him accordingly.

“You wanna chill here?” You repeated, simultaneously gesturing to Yugyeom about his thoughts on the matter at hand. 

He shrugged indecisively and you came to the realisation that you hadn’t actually thought of when you’d say your final goodbyes to Jackson, or in fact anyone else except for Yugyeom; so now seemed like as good a time as any.

“Yeah cool, how long will you take?”

With his patience running on thin ice, the man standing in front of you frowned, but you pretended to not notice it. Instead, you stretched and headed for the shower, avoiding his gaze. Yugyeom’s energy was all over the place and you were lowkey glad you wouldn’t have to deal with it by yourself.

You thought about planning your day tomorrow and meeting at least some of the people you cared about. What you hadn’t expected was Jackson bringing most of those people to you.

Half an hour after the phone call, your living room was at full capacity. It wasn’t even that many people honestly, just your usual hang-out group - a mixture of your and Yugyeom’s combined friend list, but your living room looked full. 

Yugyeom was even more displeased than before, but managed to hide it by holding onto a bottle of beer, like it was crucial to his existence.

“He didn’t say he was coming with…. everyone.” You sheepishly expressed. 

“It’s fine. At least you get to meet most of your friends.”

“Yeah I guess, i was just thinking about it.”

You get distracted by a hand on your shoulder, “thinking about what?” Bambam asked

“Meeting some people before leaving.” You repeated.

“Ooh depressing.” 

“That’s one way to look at it.” You gave him a deadpan stare, unimpressed by his poor timing.

Yugyeom took the opportunity to wander off to his other friends, most of whom were gathered around the table of food, in front of the TV.

Some random nonsense movie was playing that Mark and his girlfriend were really invested in. He considered sitting next to them but he was not sure when they’d start making out, so he parked himself next to Jaebeom instead. His head was heavier in that moment than it had been in the morning, when he’d left. He couldn’t leave right now though, Jackson would beat his ass.

So he settled for eating silently and drinking slowly, in his little corner.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep up a brave face. Jackson had already repeated himself at least thrice, saying how much he was going to miss you and it was getting more and more difficult to hold your tears. 

Taking a large gulp of the wine you had in your hand, you told him you were going to miss him a lot too and gave him a partial hug.

There was no scope of hiding from the reality of the situation anymore.

Two days later no one in this room was going to physically be a part of your life. Just two days. All you wanted to do was find Yugyeom and bury your head in his chest, like the ostrich that you were.

You took in some really deep breaths and poured yourself more booze, in the hopes of turning it around and becoming chipper.

Inevitability should be accepted or else life begins to feel like a drag…. no?

Alcohol made it a lot easier for you to bury the sadness that came with your unofficial ‘bon voyage’ celebration. A part of you was also suddenly scared to approach Yugyeom. You studied his face carefully, discreetly, while seated on the couch. Get togethers usually made him hyper, yet here he was looking into his phone like he was studying for a phd degree.

Even though there was an overwhelming urge to go and talk to him, you decided against it. If he wasn’t feeling some type of way, he would not have isolated himself like that and you knew you were partially to blame for it 

You indulged in more cocktails, talked to your friends and somewhere in the middle of all this chatter, Jackson, for the nth time commenced a relay of toasts addressed to you. Really on brand of him to talk about his feelings like that but because you were caught so off-guard you started crying.You weren’t prepared for this kind of emotional haranguing.

Yugyeom hated every minute of it. He didn’t want to hear over and over again that you were leaving, or see you cry. He should have declined Jackson’s proposition when he had the chance to, but now he had to deal with long speeches almost all of which included him too. He felt his lungs constrict like he was about to drown. Jaebeom gave him a comforting pat on the back and passed him a new bottle of soju. 

From time to time he looked at you but avoided eye contact. He knew he should have been next to you, hugging and comforting you, he just couldn’t bring himself upto the task. It was that same resentment he had felt earlier today that made him respond in this fashion. All he wanted was this night to end and for everyone to leave. But then again, maybe this was better because he didn’t have to be alone with you. 

You cried for a good hour while everyone told you they were going to miss you. There were long hugs and accelerating levels of inebriation involved. You promised to text everyone back because at that moment you had no proper words to say and you wanted to tell them all so much. 

By the time you crossed your threshold of tipsy to near blackout drunk, it was almost daybreak. The sun was just beginning to peek at you from behind the mountains. 

Yugyeom was in a worse shape than you, so Jackson and Jinyoung decided to clean up a bit, as your parting gift; trying to rope in Bambam in.

“No way. I know what’s coming after she leaves. I deserve a break before donning my emotional clean up crew role.”

“Don’t lie, you’re both just going to drink.” 

“Yes and drown him in his sorrows. This is how you clean out emotions. He’s gonna drink and cry.”

“That’s the worst way to deal with anything.” Jackson rolled his eyes

“Hyung…. you work out and write music, he drinks and dances. It’s not really all that different.”

“It’s not the same either though. If I feel something I don’t carry it with me. All he does is let it eat him until he forgets it or explodes.”

Can you debate about this later and help me carry him to the bedroom?” Jaebeom interrupted. 

Jackson handed the empty bottles to Jinyoung and got to the task of shifting Yugyeom’s large body from the couch.

“Just him?” Bambam asked

“I already tucked her in,” Jaebeom replied. “We should get out of here soon.”

“Yeah, I still have to go to work. Can’t believe Youngjae and Mark left me alone.” Jinyoung complained, trying to make as little noise as possible while trashing the garbage.

With a lot of difficulty, Jackson was able to plonk Yugyeom on the bed. Jaebeom studied you both before heaving a sigh. The peaceful look on your faces was not an accurate testament to your respective behaviours prior to passing out. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He kept a trash bag and a bottle of water each near your nightstands before leaving. 

At least he could hope that when you wake up, you’d feel better.

... You didn’t.

The splitting headache you were experiencing was really on another level when combined with your sandpaper mouth. Thankfully things were conveniently placed around you because if you had to walk to the kitchen to drink water right now you'd rather die of thirst than get up. Your attention turned to the man next to you, his porcelain skin tempting you to kiss him or at least stroke his face, but you resisted. 

You finished the whole bottle and gently lowered yourself back into the bed, lying awake with throbbing pains radiating from various places. 

Yugyeom made a cute sound in his sleep, making your heart jump. It was nearly impossible to not want to scoot closer to him. He hadn’t given you a hug in all of twenty four hours and you were already about to lose your mind.

How you were going to survive without him was really beyond your comprehension.

You just lightly touched your fingers to his palm and closed your eyes, hoping you’d fall back to sleep. The next thing you knew he had one arm around you and was pulling you into his chest; aligning his body with yours. His soft breaths landing on the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“Feeling okay?” He asked in his hoarse, morning voice. 

“Hmm…”

You could feel his lips moving against your skin as he spoke, making you melt in his embrace. Your heartbeat accelerated and he held onto you even tighter. 

Melancholy hung in the air, much like Christmas decorations in December; he could feel it. Your legs intertwined and he heard a faint sob.

There was nothing he could say that would change the atmosphere. It was time to burst the bubble, so he let you cry, and he cried too.

Head buried in your back, he whispered, “noona…. please will you leave a hoodie of yours with me?”

You nodded and kissed his hand. 

“I love you.” He said and the both of you went back to sleep. 

It was almost evening when he finally woke up. You weren’t in bed anymore, his head was hammering to a tune of it’s own, in spite of having medicated in the morning, and his body was craving water. Staggering, he made his way to the kitchen and found you in a semi-messy situation with cooking paraphernalia all over the counter.

“Oh? What is happening here”. It sounded like he was concerned but he was really only a bit confused. 

“making some sandwiches.”

“Suddenly? Why? We could have just ordered.”

“Yeaaah I don’t know, just felt like it.”

He smiled, because you looked so cute in that apron. His mood was foul but looking at you made it better. He chugged some water while you emptied the pan and he was overcome with the urge to hug you.

You were caught off-guard when he put his arms around you, but you reciprocated his gesture. It was difficult for you to look him in the eyes because you weren’t sure if, for the hundredth time, you'd end up crying. He cupped your face and nudged you to see him, the sincerity in his face…. all the love he wanted to shower you with right then.

He kissed you slowly, taking his time to taste the light traces of your strawberry lip balm. You didn'’t know what spells he used to get you turned on so fast. Threading your fingers with his hair, you deepen the kiss. The urgency that took over him was maddening. He wanted you right now, which he made abundantly clear when he slipped his left hand under your T-shirt and began caressing your boobs; his other hand gripping your hair and pulling it sharply. 

There was air caught up in your lungs as he kissed your neck, like you’d temporarily forgotten how to breathe. Low moans began to escape your lips and you squeezed your thighs together. You were so wet, just with his mildly aggressive kisses.

He knew what he was doing to you when he felt your lower body clench and both his hands slid back down to grab your butt.

The kiss got sloppier as your focus dwindled to his boner, your fingers already caressing it over his sweatpants. He bit your lip in response, pushed you against the kitchen island and aimed to remove your clothes. You were still in your flannel and shorts from the night before, so he fumbled a bit on the buttons. His accuracy was failing him because you weren't stroking him over the sweatpants anymore; he could feel your hand sliding over his skin, purposefully slow and tender. His eyes were barely open, your lips were still locked and he was trying to get you naked without actually seeing what he was doing. He grunted helplessly when you touched the tip of his cock. Wet sounds of you stroking his length, mixed in with his shallow breaths and moans, filled the kitchen. 

He nibbled on your neck, as your movements accelerated. With your non-dominant hand you tried your best to remove his sweatpants, but he stopped you.

“Turn around.” He whispered, pulling your hand away. The way he seduced you with his demanding voice and bedroom eyes, you gave in without a fight. You bucked your hips and grabbed the closest edge of the marble top. He bit your neck, gently sucking at the skin caught between his lips, until it looked bruised and then he moved on further down, while dry humping your ass, one hand firmly placed on your waist. A small gasp escaped your lips when his fingers slipped inside your panties. Automatically, you spread your legs wide, to let him access the delicate parts. 

He could smell your shampoo mixed in with your intoxicating scent and it was sending him over the moon as he played with your wet and sensitive clit.

“Good girl” he praised, when you pushed your ass further into his boner, craving to feel it bare.

You hummed, his thin and long fingers dancing to the tune of your arousal. He fingered you slowly and deliberately, and it was excruciating. 

It was the last time he was going to get to feel you. Tomorrow you'd be gone. It made him angry and sad. It made him desperate. 

You could feel his aggression in the way his lips collided onto yours with force, the way his nails dug into your skin, the way his body was stiff and wrapped around you in a solid cage.

His hold on you tightened and he spun you around again, to face him. He wanted to make sure you never forgot how he made you feel; so that no other man would ever be enough for you because he set that bar up so high. He wanted to spoil the idea of being pleased again by anyone else, for you. Maybe it was toxic to think that way, but he was already letting go of you.

He had no choice but to let go of you. The train of thought he'd gotten on made his brain short circuit and switch off. He wasn't aroused anymore and everything was blurry and confusing. Before he could stop himself, he took a step back.

“Don't leave me, noona.” He said in a small voice, looking at the floor.

The words crash on you like a violent wave. 

You wished he'd stayed looking at the tiles, because when he looked up, you felt the guilt of having accidentally run over a puppy. There was sadness and shame and anger and you didn't know which emotion to address first.

“Yugs….”

So many words swirled in your brain but your lips were sewn shut.

“So, I guess that's a no.”

“What are you trying to do, Yugyeom?”

“Oh well, It was worth a try.” He chuckled, rather bitterly.

What else was he expecting would happen.

Life is not a movie scene; the girl doesn't quit on her career for the boy, in real life. But was it valid for him to feel the sting that persistently worsened as you two stood opposite each other uncomfortably? He knew this was going to happen. He chose it with you. Hell, he chose it for you even. While he was trying to rationalise his own resentments, you straightened yourself up and started putting the buttons of your shirt back in place. 

“I don't know what you want to hear from me, Yugs. You know I don't want to leave you. And you don't want to come with me.”

Shit, that stung him even more.

“I have to leave for the airport in 12 hours so do we have to be like this?” You asked defeatedly. 

He shook his head and you extended your arms, waiting for him to fall into them.

“I'm really sorry we have to end this way.”

In his experience, there was no safer feeling than being held by you, but right now it was the root cause of all the knives ruthlessly jammed in his chest.

Nonetheless, he hugged you and exhaled pure agony.

“I'm gonna go take a shower. Maybe afterwards, if you feel like it, we can go get some drinks?” You asked cautiously.

“Yeah… I’d like that” he lied, as he let go. Truth be told, he couldn't look past the multiple ‘last times’ anymore. The last time he could hug you, the last time he could fuck you, the last time he could hear your voice… he couldn't do any of it. He didn't want to do any of it. He didn't want this for the last time. He heard you close the door to the bathroom and started fixing his appearance however he could, grabbed his wallet and phone and headed out. If he stayed in that house for a second more he felt he'd choke and die. He was trying to run away from the toxic fumes his own thoughts were emitting, and there was nowhere to hide from them, so he tried to leave them behind. 

His brisk walk turned into a sprint and then he ran as fast as he could towards the subway station. And just like that he vanished into the sea of anonymity, nowhere to be found.

Four hours had gone by since you'd come out of your shower to a deserted house and a singular message from Yugyeom. “Sorry noona, I can't do this.”

it felt like a cruel déjà vu.

His phone wasn't reachable. Bambam had no idea, neither did Jaebeom. You were much too confused to react in any appropriate manner.

“He left” You said to Jaebeom, who was equally confused and infuriated.

It seemed like you'd already connected the dots as to Yugyeom’s unavailability but a part of you was holding onto some hope.

“I'm sure he's gonna show up dude.”

“I have to leave in like 3 more hours. He wouldn't have left if he planned to show up.”

“He's definitely not at Bam’s?”

“Jae…. unless I was being lied to, he's not there. And i don't think Bam has any reason to do that.”

“Okay. Keep me posted.”

“Yeah” you sighed. 

You were neither angry, nor sad and you had good reason to experience both those emotions at once, but the way your brain had switched itself to autopilot, everything had just become a matter of necessity. 

You tried Yugyeom’s number once again, and weren't even surprised anymore when you heard the automated switched off message. 

While scanning the room your eyes fell upon your suitcases and your heart dropped 6 feet further than where it was already at.

You had to leave soon.

The silence had already been gnawing at your sanity, now it was overpowering guilt because if you had just said no, none of this would have happened. If you had just said no to the promotion. If you had tried harder for Seoul. If you had chosen to stay when Yugyeom asked you to, then the chain of events would have been different. Maybe, if he'd not run away from this whole situation you could have figured out a solution. But he wasn't here and you were running out of time.

A high pitched buzzer cut through the atmosphere, giving you a jump scare. For a second you thought maybe it was Yugyeom, but why would he need to ring the bell.

You saw Jackson's silhouette in the little alarm system by the door and sighed. 

“You look so unhappy to see me.” He huffed, when you greeted him dryly.

“Gee Jackson, sorry I'm upset about Yugyeom literally bailing on me when I have to leave in an hour.”

“Wait what? He's not back?” 

“No…..i don't know where he is.”

“And he's still not answering?”

“I tried about 50 times, it's off. Anyway, how come you're here?” 

It was comical how distraught you were internally and how inept you were at translating your emotions externally. The way you were talking, no one would think you were in this sad sad situation of leaving your life behind to start a new one.

“You don't remember asking me to drop you off?”

“Was I drunk?”

“Well…. tipsy maybe?”

“I was definitely drunk. I don't remember any of it. But, I'm glad you're here.”

“Are you…. packed?”

“Yeah, I just got the last batch of clothes I need to shove in.”

“Cool. You have anything to eat?”

“I made some sandwiches in the evening. Have at it.”

You were trying your best to be normal. A few minutes later Bambam and Jaebeom arrived as well, both without any worthwhile news of Yugyeom.

“I'm gonna kill him when I see him.” Jaebeom raged.”this is very childish.”

“It's fine man…. i know why he just vanished. It's okay. I'm not mad.” 

“Bro are you…. Hearing yourself?”

“Very clearly. He was never good with confrontational emotions. He didn't want to see me leave so he left. It's not rocket science.” 

“You went through your stages of grief really fast with this one.” 

“I didn't have an option.” you looked at the three of them sitting around you “So…. are all of you taking me to the airport?”

“Yeah, duh.” Bambam countered.

“Okay then wait for me in the car, I need to say bye to the house.”

“And you can't do that in front of us?” 

“Would you rather get uncomfortable watching me cry?”

Honestly, you were just prolonging it, the actual act of leaving. You felt so heavy when Jaebeom rolled your suitcases out. In passing you looked at your two favourite hoodies you'd left on the bed and it took everything out of you to not have an emotional breakdown right at that moment.

It was difficult, leaving was difficult especially without Yugyeom. You were in denial of your feelings but you were so angry at him but also so sorry towards him, your emotions kept cancelling each other out. You just wanted to hug him one last time and get the closure you were hoping to get but he took that option away from you. In your three year relationship, this was maybe the most cruel he’d ever been with you. But it was over now. This chapter was done, even with all of its loose ends.

You took your time saying your final byes to three of the most important people you'd met in Seoul. It was quite impressive that you didn't burst out in tears, even when Bam and Jae almost did. There was a part of you that was distracted by a hope that he'd be at the airport to see you off. When he wasn't at the main gates, you hoped he'd be there at check-in. While walking towards your departure gate you kept an eye out, hoping to catch a glimpse of his smile. You just wanted to say goodbye. But he never came. You sat glued to your spot, because what if he did try to find you and you weren't there. You boarded your flight at the very end. You gave an imaginary him all the imaginary chances you could, to materialise and tie a neat ribbon around your life in Seoul.

But your flight took off and the last shred of hope you had snapped and so did you.

Because life isn't a movie. Just like the girl doesn't leave her career, the boy doesn't run through the airport either. 

[byunsboyz]

Jamais Vu - Part One

Exo Fanfiction

Baekhyun x Female Reader

Warnings: some light swears.

Genre: Fluff/Angst?

W/C: 2560

Part Two Part Three

_____________________________________________________________

Everybody has that ‘what if’. The one who got away....not quite regret, but thoughts that would drift by late at night when insomnia has set in and you’re deep into your latest existential crisis.

What if things had been different? What if you had said what had been on the tip of your tongue that day?

Byun Baekhyun was your what if. 

He had been your best friend in college and the only person you had truly loved.

You had no reason to run into Byun Baekhyun. You didn’t share classes. You an Accounting major and him Architecture. 

You didn’t run in the same social circles, he was part of a frat house and you opted to remain in dorms with your small group of friends. 

But what had brought you together was music, meeting in your second year while working at the campus radio station.

You had applied for the role of Production Director on a whim, looking for a hobby outside of classes and studying and also benefited from the extra credit of managing the finances of the small college club. 

The first time you met you were positive you’d never understand him. After all, you were complete opposites. He was loud and outgoing; always the centre of jokes and a far cry the quiet loner you were perceived to be. 

But from the first show you ran with him, he has surprised you. Baekhyun was the On-Air Presenter for the Sunday night Jazz & Blues segment and as soon as the light would turn red he’d take on a completely different persona.

His voice would become soft and melodic as he’d whisper sweet nothings into the microphone about the classics of Miles Davies and Frank Sinatra. 

You’d often be on the same late-night shift together; downing coffee after coffee, discussing your favourite artists and organising records until the early hours.

He wasn’t exhausting like the rest of your extroverted friends, his presence giving you a warm sense of comfort. 

Without noticing you became joined at the hip for the rest of your college days. 

Not to the point that you were a regular at his crazy frat parties but you’d hang out at the radio station, would marathon movie after movie at each other’s dorms on the weekends and crammed for all your major test’s together. 

You hadn’t even realised you were in love with him until you’d just graduated, you even had the crazy idea to confess.

Then the news broke that he was moving to a different country.

He had been in two minds on whether to go. You’d always talked about living and working in the same city and he’d been concerned about you being alone and him going back on his promise.

Honestly. Who achieves their dream job at a globally famous architecture firm and worries about their dumb friend during the happiest moment of their life?!

You remembered that day vividly.

‘“Of course you should go! It’s your dream, Baek” you forced the enthusiasm into your voice.

Inside, you could feel your heart tearing at the seams. You weren’t selfish enough to show him just how much you would miss him, as much as you had wanted to.

He was always too considerate of your feelings. 

This wasn’t some Rom-Com TV show, where Baekhyun would suddenly declare he couldn’t live without you. He wasn’t like Rachel choosing not to get on the plan for Ross.

You’d cried so hard the night he’d left. Almost texting the words you’d be aching to tell him for the last three years. 

‘I am in love with you’. 

But the alcohol had knocked you out before you could hit send.

He’d promised to keep in touch but over the years you drifted. As life and work became more and more hectic it devolved from video chatting on the weekends, to texting occasionally. 

Fading into receiving a generic happy birthday post on social media and then nothing at all.

You’d pushed him to the back of your mind as you told yourself over and over that this is what happens as you get older. 

And with that ten years had passed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake with a start. Back aching from where you’d fallen asleep in an awkward position while watching a random ASMR video the night prior.

*Clatter*  

Your sleep-filled eyes search the room, trying to locate the source of the noise. 

*Thud Thud Thud*

It appears to be coming through the wall behind your headboard.

Could someone be moving into the apartment next door? It’s been entirely empty the whole time you’ve been living here, about seven months now.

You've enjoyed the quiet solace of not having to share the walls with another person. Especially being one of the only two apartments on the upper floor, it was one of the reasons you love your apartment.

It’s also located near the subway and tucked far back enough on the outskirts of the city that it’s almost peaceful. There’s also a small cafe bar and a couple of small stores that remind you of the town where you grew up.

*Bang*

You groan again at the loud noises as you stretch your arms over your head and wonder about the people moving in next door.

Maybe a couple? Or a young family. It could even be a cute guy. You snort at the thought. Yeah right. What kind of a psycho moves into an apartment in the early morning anyway?!

You reach under your pillow for your phone to check the time. 8:30 am! SHIT. You overslept and if you don’t leave your apartment in the next ten minutes you’ll miss your train to work!

With no time for a shower, you rush to your bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

As you drag a brush through your hair and pull it up into a simple, neat ponytail you start forming a contingency plan…

‘Skip the usual to-go coffee at Dunkin’ and settle for the instant stuff at work’ you think to yourself, ‘As soon as I get to work, throw on some BB cream and mascara with the time I’ll gain abandoning my daily vanilla latte with coconut milk…’.

You sniff sadly at the thought as you step into one of your tailored dresses, fumbling with the awkward zipper in the back.

Within 10 minutes you’re flying out the door and straight into the elevator. Using the short amount of time to button up your sweater and glance through your bag to check that you’ve got everything you’ll need for the day.

You’re in your own thoughts as you stride towards the lobby doors, and almost walk straight into your building manager.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr Sato!” you gasp in surprise.

“Good morning!” he smiles obliviously, not realising that you almost knocked him flying. You move to step around him as he continues. “There’s a package of yours with Ralph” (the doorman) “and I also wanted to let you know about a new tenant moving into the place next to yours...”

“Uh-huh,  of course, that’s great!” You cut him off, waving your hands apologetically “I am so sorry. Please excuse me, I’m late for work!” you call out behind you as you make a mad dash out of the building to the subway station.

You make your train by the skin of your teeth, panting from the final sprint from the ticket gate to the platform. Feeling glad you skipped the makeup as you would have surely sweat a good portion of it off by now.

You currently work for a large accountancy firm Kim & Partners. You could have worked within a finance department of any company as most qualified accountants tend to do but you love the challenges and variety of working with different industries and clients every day.

You manage a small team of four and specialise in bookkeeping for small to medium enterprise, one of the smaller departments in the company but you have a pretty large client base and enjoy the satisfaction of helping others and providing a clear and efficient service.

“We are transferring you to manage corporate accounts,” your boss Mr Kim announces in the morning management meeting. You feel like someones just pulled a step from beneath your footing.

You were aware that your manager Mr Choi had wanted to transfer you out to provide more specialised management accountancy for larger corporate clients but so far you’d been convincing enough from the commission and reputation you’ve built for Kim & Partners to be able to continue as you were.

“Uh, thank you for the opportunity, Mr Kim, I-” you begin shakily, looking for the words or a reason to decline the transfer.

“Fantastic! You’ll handover to Jaehyun for the rest of today and you’ll start in corporate accounting tomorrow!” your boss claps his hands together enthusiastically and with that you chicken out of any further protest and nod your head.

Jaehyun is your second in command and honestly, he really deserves this promotion. You couldn’t think of someone more diligent and detail-oriented.

The rest of your day is uneventful. The handover goes incredibly smoothly despite a very surprised Jaehyun but the more things are explained, the more you realise that this progression will be good for everyone.

You’ll still oversee Jaehyun and his team but allow him more room to make decisions and develop while you work on the larger corporate accounts that keep your company in business.

There was even a hint at the opportunity to become a junior partner, which by your calculations would make you one of the youngest in the company.

You leave work feeling excited, passing up on celebratory drinks with your (old) team so that they can have more fun without their boss present.

“COME ONNNN” Hani, your junior accounts clerk had whined when you announced that you wouldn't be joining “You’re not a regular boss, you’re a COOL boss!”.

You appreciate the sentiment but everyone likes to complain about work and management when they drink and you wouldn't like to take that away from them.

You sit on the train heading back to your apartment feeling optimistic, texting your best friend Aria about the day and making plans for your own celebratory drinks.

You’re walking through the lobby of your apartment building, heading towards Ralph’s desk to collect the package Mr Sato mentioned this morning. Probably the new nutribullet you’d ordered while drunk Amazon shopping a couple of weeks back.

Normally you’d cancel the delivery but drunk you was really onto something this time. You giggle at a dumb vine quote Aria sends you and as you finish typing up your response-

 THWACK! You hit a wall, falling ungracefully backwards onto your butt.

You grunt as the air gets knocked out of you when you make contact with rough carpet of the lobby.

“Seriously!” another voice snaps you back to reality as you realise you didn’t walk into a wall but another person.

 A now very annoyed person, carrying what you assume was their groceries as you glance over at the produce and cans rolling around on the floor between you.

“I- oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” you stammer as you scramble to your knees and start frantically picking up some of the items in front of you. A can of beans, a bag of pasta and a lone orange trying to make its escape. 

“I wasn’t even looking, I promise I’ll pay for anything dama-”, You begin as you look up, expecting to see Mr Sato or one of the other tenants of the building.

The rest of your sentence dies in the back of your throat.

“Baekhyun?...”

His name leaves your lips as a whisper, heart thumping against your chest as you almost drop the items in your hands.

He’s not looking in your direction, you hear him grumble something under his breath that you can’t quite make out as he scoops the remainder of his groceries into a battered paper bag.

Is it really him? Did you hit your head and you’re actually unconscious and hallucinating about a guy you used to know and haven’t seen in ten years?

It sure looks like him. A few extra lines crease his forehead, his hair is a darker shade of chocolate than you remember with a few flecks of silver glinting at the centre of his parting.

You glance to his left hand searching for the mole that sits beneath his thumbnail but it’s not there. Maybe it was on his right hand?

He finally looks up as if finally registering that you’re kneeling on the floor next to him, his lips part slightly in surprise as he looks you over. A tiny mole sits just above the corner of his upper lip. It really is him!

Before your mind has time to catch up you’re throwing your arms around him, allowing your excitement to overtake all of your other senses. You feel him instantly tense up.

“H-hey!” he shouts, pushing you off him abruptly. “What the hell are you doing!”

You shoot to your feet, shaken by the sharpness of his tone you take a step back to create some space. Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. His eyes look you over but there’s no familiarity in them, they’re so cold you almost shiver.

He takes a step towards you, “How do you know my name?” his tone sharp and accusing, “Are you some kind of stalker?”.

Your cheeks start to burn as the realisation set’s in that Baekhyun has no idea who you are. You struggle to swallow the lump forming in your throat as you search for a response. Words seem to fail you right now.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” you hear the worried voice of Mr Sato, by the time you remember to blink he’s already standing between the two of you. You look up at him, dumbstruck as you fight back the sharp prickles in the corner of your eyes.

He looks back and forth between you and Baekhyun, trying to piece together what has taken place. You realise you’re still holding Baekhyun’s groceries, practically hugging the bag of pasta to your chest and your cheeks burn even hotter. 

You hear your name spoken again but it’s not Mr Sato’s voice this time, and you don’t have the nerve to look at Baekhyun again.

So you do the only thing you can think of and thrust the items you're holding at Mr Sato. Run as fast as you can to the stairwell, and find the nearest hole to jump into, aka your apartment.

Your knees ache as you force yourself up each flight. You can’t even remember the last time you used the stairwell and when you finally reach the threshold of your apartment you collapse against the door.

What on earth were you thinking?

What gave you the right to assume anyone would recognise you after ten years?

What was he even doing here? As that final thought crosses your mind someone knocks at your door.

You jump at the abrupt noise, chest still tight from the anxiety (or the running). But there’s no way you’re answering the door.

Your legs still feel like jelly and you really fear that Mr Sato has come to scold you or worse Baekhyun has followed you.

But he wouldn’t know which apartment you lived in. Would he?

You pull yourself to your feet and glance through the peephole.

You watch as Baekhyun turns away from your front door and disappears towards the next apartment.

No way.

*Slam*

Shit.

[nayutai]

Baby Don’t Move

⇢ Pairing Yunho x Female OC | Office Worker AU

⇢ Word Count 6.010

⇢ Warnings Yunho has a filthy mouth and a huge dick, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, cursing (in general), aaaand I think that’s it

⇢ Summary Naima Yancey is ambitious and determined so her promotion at DevTech comes as no surprise to anyone. What should be a joyous moment for her is tainted. The promotion comes with a real office, more money, and a higher status, but it also comes with close proximity to the office golden boy Yunho. He gets under her skin in a way no one ever has, but she’s determined not to let this oversized menace ruin this opportunity for her. Turns out, Yunho would rather ruin her instead.

The muted ding of the elevator sounds much too joyful to Naima. Her transfer to the accounts receivable department should be marked by the sound of a death rattle or a dying elephant. A twinkling little ding only makes her even more pissed off. She glances down at the contents of the box nestled in her arms to see the brand new name plate she’d been given for her new office. 

Naima Yancey

Receivables Supervisor

The youngest supervisor in DevTech history according to HR. She guesses that anyone else in her position would be excited about the transfer she’s mentally griping about. It’s not every day that someone like her gets unexpectedly promoted to a supervisory position. Naima has only been with the company for three years and apparently she’d made the most of that time. She pauses next to a sea of cubicles to scan the numbers above the offices on either side of the employees rapidly typing away at their stations. Only a few of them even bother to give her a second glance and for that Naima is incredibly grateful. She finally spots her destination, hiking the cardboard box she’s unloaded her desk into a little higher on her hip. She takes half of a step and immediately regrets every life choice that led her to this point.

“Well look who we have here. Are you lost, Ravioli?” Naima grits her teeth at that god awful nickname, swallowing the scathing retort that’s burning her throat. The deep baritone voice sounding off somewhere over her left shoulder is the cause of every ounce of the work stress she carries in her shoulders like a boulder. 

Yunho Jeong. Beholder of an unfair amount of undeserved beauty and the victim in Naima’s most murderous dreams. 

“You were in the staff meeting when they announced my promotion, Yunho.” She deadpans. Her skin is starting to itch from the prolonged exposure to the man in front of her. The smirk that is practically permanently etched on his face does nothing but piss her even more. She wants to smack him until it disappears.

“I’m just messing with you, Ravioli. You know that. Welcome to Receivables.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he starts backing away. “Try not to fuck it up!” Naima can feel the thick cardboard of her box bending to the forceful clench of her fists. The weight of of nearly fifty pairs of eyes keeps the scathing remark she wants to make from bubbling up. 

Fucking Yunho. Naima hasn’t even been in Receivables for an hour and she’s already doubting if the extra money is worth the headache. Okay, who is she kidding? The extra money is definitely worth it. Getting ahead of her bills had felt like the pipe dream of a wistful millennial before it had become an unexpected reality just last week. No way she lets some oversized preteen bully ruin this for her.

Naima is almost done putting her things into her new desk when the sound of an office door loudly closing disturbs her concentration. She looks up to see the source of the noise is none other than Yunho himself. All of the offices on this floor conveniently have floor to ceiling windows next to the door which allows people directly across from each other to see into the other person’s office. Naima is absolutely horrified at the implications of this as Yunho stares her down with a satisfied smirk. It’s obvious now that he slammed his door on purpose to get her attention. 

“This is the worst day of my life.” Naima mumbles to herself as she does her best to ignore Yunho’s gaze burning into her forehead. 

IT arrives a few tense minutes later to set up her docking station and get her started on the training modules for her new job duties. She’s taking notes on how to perform certain functions in the billing system when she receives a chat notification from her work husband Knox Rivers back in her old department. 

KR: Hey wifey how’s the swanky new digs?

NY: My office is DIRECTLY across from Yunho’s office

NY: I can literally see every move he makes and he can see mine

KR: Dreamville? My treat

Naima immediately perks up at the mention of the bar down the street that has become a favorite amongst their group of friends. It’s going to take a lot to make her feel good about working in such close proximity with Satan’s hardest working demon, but a free round of drinks is a great start.

NY: I’ll meet you downstairs at 5:30

Naima nearly bursts into tears when she steps off of the elevator and spots Knox leaning seated in the lobby playing a game on his phone. She’s always thought that he looked like Thor with his long hair and athletic build and right now a superhero is exactly what she needs. A giggle bubbles up from Naima’s throat at the red stain that creeps down Knox’s throat when she sneaks up on him to kiss his cheek. 

“Come on, big guy. There’s a Blue Magic with my name on it and I intend to collect my due.” Naimah declares, clapping Knox on his broad shoulders. 

“Lead the way, my lady.” He holds the door open like the gentleman he is with a dramatic flourish. Naima’s heart twinges a little. She misses the days when talking to him in person required her to lean back in her chair as opposed to taking an elevator ride. 

A few other people from the office are already at Dreamville when Naima and Knox arrive. They’re quickly swept up in familiar gossip and more drinks than anyone has a right to consume on a Tuesday evening. She’s engaged in a dangerous game of darts with a new employee named Xavier when a horribly familiar voice rings out above all the noise in the bar. Her head whips in the direction the voice came from, but the dart flies from her fingers anyway nearly taking some poor girl’s eye out. She yells out an apology but apparently her almost victim has had a little too much to drink herself and simply waves her off.

“Nice aim, Ravioli. An inch to the left and you would’ve scored a perfect murder.” Yunho taunts. Naima crosses her arms across her chest in indignation. Her eyes watch him intently and therefore don’t miss the way his gaze drops to get a look at her cleavage. His jaw ticks and she wants nothing more than to comment on that but Xavier interrupts by extending his hand in Yunho’s direction as he introduces himself.

“Naima, you ready to leave? I was about to call an Uber.” Knox materializes out of nowhere, phone in hand and Naima’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she sees that it’s nearing eleven. She hadn’t realized that they’d been there for so long.

“See you tomorrow, Ravioli. Later, Knox.” She’d almost forgotten that Yunho was still here. He winks at her before he turns to walk away and, despite the fact that he can no longer see her, Naima flips him off. 

Naima is still fuming nineteen minutes later when the Uber arrives. She successfully dodges Knox’s first few questions about why she’s so mad, but he eventually wears her down. She’d forgotten that Knox becomes a wannabe psychologist that likes to talk about people’s feelings after he’s had a few drinks.

“What do you have against him? You’re probably the only person at the whole company that doesn’t get along with him.” Naima rolls her eyes skyward. Yunho the golden boy is apparently loved by everyone and it makes her seethe even more. She wracks her brain for someone at the company that she can add to her side and thankfully comes up with a name.

“Fake news! Saia in purchasing called him a douche nozzle last week and I am inclined to agree.” Naima is quite pleased with herself as she settles back into the plush seating of the SUV. Her satisfaction is short lived.

“Saia doesn’t count.” Knox counters quickly. “Yunho dated her younger sister and it ended badly so that just leaves you.”

“The night before my first day at DevTech, my friends from back home came to town to celebrate and we went to this super fancy restaurant.” The red light at the intersection bathes them both in its glow which is ironic in Naima’s opinion. 

She regales Knox with the store of how her friend Keyanna had bought her a ravioli entree to go so that she could have her favorite food on her first day. Yunho had snuck up on her when she was in the break room, startling her to the point that she ended up dropping a ravioli on her white button up. Of course the evil bastard had laughed about it till he could barely stand. She’d had to walk around for the rest of the day with the sauce stain on her shirt and Yunho has called her Ravioli every day since then.

“That…” Knox pauses to piece his thoughts together. “okay, yeah, I can’t say I’d be too fond of him either after that.” He admits.

“See? He’s an asshole and I hope he steps on a lego every day for the rest of his miserable life.” Their Uber driver, who had remained silent aside from the quick hello when they’d gotten in her car, snorts at the curse Naima speaks into Yunho’s life. 

“You know he teases you because he probably wants to fuck you right? Men aren’t as evolved as people would like to believe.” Knox points out. Naima withdraws from him as if he just told her to go fuck herself.

“If he thinks that being an asshole will grant him access to my pearly gates then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought he was.” She and the driver exchange a high five when she chimes in with her agreement. Naima makes a mental note to make sure that Knox tips her good for being an intellectual.

A wave of exhaustion washes over Naima when their apartment complex comes into view.  Thoughts of a hot shower and her fluffy pillows makes the time required to drive to their part of the complex feel like an eternity. She bids the friendly Uber driver a safe and prosperous night before all but running towards her building with a wave to Knox tossed carelessly over her shoulder as he makes his way to the building directly across from hers.

“Morning, Killer.” Yunho is way too chipper this morning especially since Naima has already had to suffer through elevator chatter about how he won a drinking contest last night. It doesn’t help that now he’s bringing up her almost homicide.

“Don’t you have something else to do? Like your job?” Yunho pretends to recoil from her remark as he follows Naima to her office. She wishes she could just haul off and smack him but that wouldn’t bode well for her professional career.

He props himself up against the wall next to her office and it’s as she unlocking her door that she registers just how close he is to her. A small shift of her weight to her right foot would push her up against his chest. Her mind drifts back to what Knox had said last night. She side eyes him cautiously before turning fully to face him head on. If anyone were to ask, Naima would blame what she does next on residual alcohol still inhibiting her rational thought.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Yunho blinks several times in shock but he recovers quickly. He flips around to take stock of the people still filtering into the office to see if anyone is within ear shot and is seemingly satisfied by the lack of people around them.

“I never pegged you to have an exhibition kink, Ravioli.” She curses herself at the way the low timbre of his voice resonates deep in her gut. The greasy smile on his face however, makes her want to puke.

“My kinks are none of your business. I’m just trying to prove a point. Now answer the question.”

“I can only imagine what that point is, but yes, I would absolutely love to ravish you.” He leans in even closer so that she can smell the minty scent of his toothpaste when he whispers in her ear. His closeness doesn’t make her recoil in the way that she thought it would and the reasoning behind that is definitely not something she’s willing to explore.

The second she gets her laptop booted up she’s tapping out a message to Knox.

NY: Lunch on me today. We need to talk.

KR: I’m all yours at 12:30 

Naima is still pondering her conversation with Knox when she steps off of the elevator to go back to her office after lunch. He seems to think that the best way to get Yunho off her back is to fuck him. According to Knox and his personal knowledge of “guy logic”, that will get her out of Yunho’s system and his annoying behavior will cease. Naima isn’t so sure about that. She’s so far inside her own head that she doesn’t even hear someone calling her name until they tap her on her shoulder. Of course, it’s Yunho. Luck is just not on her side today.

“Ravioli, you should consider getting your ears checked. I called you four times.”

“And you should consider that maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” She replies. He makes himself comfortable in her office as she drops her purse into one of the desk drawers to jump back into her work. 

“Oh, don’t be that way, Ravioli. I thought we were past this animosity thing since you practically propositioned me in the hallway.” He looks so smug as he recalls her blunder from earlier. God he’s so infuriating. Naima adds this to her running list of why men should be removed from Earth. She says nothing, choosing to simply point towards her office door. Thankfully, he’s not too dense that he can’t take a hint and returns to his own office space.

She’s settled into a steady pace with her work when her computer pings with a message. The prospect of clearing out her dashboard and possibly being able to leave early is too sweet to break her stride. Two more subsequent pings from effectively breaks her concentration.

YJ: hey

YJ: you look so cute when you’re concentrating

YJ: don’t ignore me I’m sensitive 😭

She looks through the glass into Yunho’s office to see him already staring directly at her. His head being propped up on his hands suggests that he’s been doing it for a while. He blows a kiss in her which she returns with a middle finger. She raises her computer monitors so that he’s no longer able to see her face. 

Next order of business: buying blinds

Naima groans out loud when her computer pings with yet another message. At this rate she’s going to have to stay late to get everything done. She halfway expects the new message to be another annoying attempt at conversation from Yunho but thankfully this one is from someone that she actually doesn’t mind talking to.

KR: hey did you hear that Yaya bought a new house?

NY: yeah she just texted me that she’s having a bbq this weekend to celebrate the closing

KR: you going? 👀

NY: don’t ask me a stupid question like that of course I’m going

KR: lmao okay so we can split an uber then

KR: wanna leave at like 3?

NY: yeah that’s fine with me!

Naima is so happy for Saturday to finally roll around that she could cry. Yaya had told her a few things on the menu on Wednesday and her mouth has been watering ever since. Her husband is a chef at some fancy restaurant so she knows that this will be the best food she’s had in a while. 

Knox and Naima are both slack-jawed at the absolute grandeur of Yaya’s house as their Uber driver comes to a stop in the center of the horseshoe shaped driveway. She’d neglected to mention that her new house is actually a castle. Naima frowns when she spots Yunho’s flashy Mercedes amongst the cars already parked in the driveway, but she’s determined to have a good time despite his presence. They follow the sound of music and splashing to the backyard to see a majority of the DevTech staff in the backyard. They’re quick to strip down to their bathing suits to join in on the chicken fight in the pool.

Naima has just sent Alexis from marketing flying off of Xavier’s shoulders when Yaya announces that it’s time to eat. It’s a race to get out of the pool as everyone is hustling for a good spot in line. Naima is cursing the god awful heaviness that plagues her every time she steps out of a pool when she hears a low whistle from behind her. It’s Yunho and his eyes are trained directly on her ass. Big surprise there.

“Yellow is definitely your color, Ravioli.” He produces a large, fluffy towel seemingly out of nowhere, offering it to her. She’s hesitant to accept it but a quick glance towards the now empty table that had once held an assload of towels changes her mind.

“I think I would look just as good on you.” Yunho smiles as if he’s just hit her with the best pick up line known to man. He’s gotten quite brazen with his flirtatious attempts ever since he’d exposed his sexual intentions on Monday.

“You talk a big game but everyone knows that overly confident men are just…” Naimah trails off with a pointed look at the front of Yunho’s jeans as she takes a sip of her lemonade. “overcompensating.”

Yunho pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he considers the woman in front of him with amusement. He revels in the way she swallows nervously when he closes the gap between them. Every breath she takes causes her barely covered chest to graze against his but, to her credit, she doesn’t back away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but being this close to Yunho is making her blood run hot. She chooses to blame it on her primitive instincts and not actual attraction, but even she knows that’s a lie.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to speak on things you know nothing about, Ravioli?” She can’t decide what she’s more mad at, the nickname or the insinuation that this asshole just said she’s wrong. She’s not.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to lie?” She bristles. Yunho’s sarcastic little grin only grows in response to her anger. It’s like he gets off on making her want to wring his neck.

“Admit it, Ravioli. You want this just as much as I do.” Naima gasps when Yunho suddenly wraps an arm around her wait, jerking her to him. He leans down so that he’s speaking directly into her ear and in that moment, Naima knows she’s a goner. All these months of resisting him and he’s about to break her by whispering in her ear. She wants to scream bloody murder. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll take you higher than you’ve ever been.”

“Prove it.” Naima feels like she’s put the final nail in her own coffin. Yunho has successfully worn her down. She can’t see his face, but she doesn’t have to to know that he’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery.

“Let’s go, Ravioli.” Naima expects Knox to be disappointed to see her leaving with Yunho when she waves at him to say bye, but instead he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. She makes a mental note to yell at him for that later.

The ride to Yunho’s apartment is entirely too short. Naima’s shoulders are wrought with tension as she follows him up the stairs. Part of her wants to turn and run, but a much larger part is telling her to stay to see this through. Yunho has spoken quite highly of his sexual prowess and she’s more curious than not on just how much of it is true.

Yunho is on her the second she toes off her shoes by the door. One of his large hands firmly holds her jaw in place while he ravages her mouth with his own. Naima clings to his shirt to both hold him to her and ground herself in the moment. She feels lightheaded but it’s not from lack of oxygen. He uses his grip on her jaw to pry her mouth open, furthering his claim on her. The hand not covering her jaw skims across the skin above her shorts before deftly undoing the button. Her lips chase his when Yunho pulls away but he avoids her advances.

“Your lips taste so sweet. I want to taste all of you.” Naima shivers at the roughness of his voice. His normal baritone is a lot to deal with but this is downright sinful. He roughly hauls her off her feet into his arms, causing a fresh wave of arousal to flood her panties. 

She busies herself with leaving marks along the column of his neck, loving the way she can feel his gruff moans vibrating against her lips. The smack of Yunho’s hand hitting the wall to steady himself when she grinds her hips against his startles her into.

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me, baby girl.” Naima smiles mischievously, letting her lips linger on his skin. Something about the pet name he called her makes the heat simmering in her belly grow even hotter. He tosses her on his oversized bed once he collects himself enough to finally make it to his bedroom. She watches him curiously as he turns to dig around in his nightstand. His hand reappears with several foil packets in his grip which he promptly drops onto the mattress for later use. 

Clothes fly haphazardly as Yunho hastily strips them down till nothing but his boxers remain in place. He smirks when he notices Naima’s playful grin drop when she takes in the size of the bulge he’s sporting. His large hands grip her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and rustling her around to a more favorable position. Finally satisfied with the way her face is pressed into the expensive Egyptian cotton of his bed sheets, Yunho buries his face in her dripping cunt from behind. He groans at his first taste of her and her answering whine is nothing but appreciative at the way it vibrates against her.

Naima yelps when Yunho’s large palms suddenly land on her ass with a resounding smack. He soothes the sting with tender caresses against her flesh. His tongue never leaves her entrance as he continues to coax a seemingly endless stream of arousal from her. She has the sheets in a death grip, moving her hips as if to separate herself from Yunho’s lethal tongue but wherever she goes his face simply follows. The slurping sounds of him feasting on her are absolutely obscene but she’s way too far gone to be embarrassed. She doubts that she would be able to form a coherent sentence of protest even if she wasn’t. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I could drown in this pretty pussy.” Naima keens at his filthy words, squirming restlessly as the pleasure builds and builds within her. 

It’s no surprise when she tumbles over the edge with a strangled shout, but she’d expected for him to release her once he’d made her come. Much to her surprise, Yunho doesn’t seem to have any plans of stopping. He tongues her through her orgasm, sucking gently on her clit as he thrusts two fingers into her still spasming entrance. Her knees buckle immediately from the sharp pang of oversensitivity. Yunho pulls his fingers from her long enough to land another harsh smack to her ass while his other holds her hips in place. The discomfort bleeds into pleasure until she’s racing headfirst into a second orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Give it all to me.” Naima swears she’s on the verge of blacking out when Yunho finally releases her. She collapses against the mattress when he relinquishes his grip on her, trembling from head to toe. His chest is warm against the sweat-slicked skin of her back when he covers his body with his own. He leaves chaste kisses along her shoulder as he loops an arm around her torso.

“Don’t tap out on me now, love. There’s still more fun to be had.” Yunho grinds his cock against her ass, smiling against her skin when he feels her shudder in his hold.

He pulls himself up on his knees, dragging Naima’s tired frame with him. He makes quick work of removing his boxers and rolling on one of the condoms he’d grabbed earlier. She jerks when the head of his latex covered cock bumps against her sensitive clit as he covers himself in the slick still leaking from her cunt. Yunho watches the back of her head like a hawk as he slowly presses himself against her entrance. He swears quite creatively at the way her muscles lock down on him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!” Naima drops her head to rest on her arms, doing her best to relax. He reaches underneath her to rub circles into her clits and succeeds in pushing forwards a few more inches.

His breath catches in his throat when she pulls her hips before pushing back against him to sink down a little further on his thick length. They work together until he’s finally seated balls deep inside her. Yunho’s eyes roll back in his head at the tight squeeze of her perfect cunt. He’s been inside quite a few women in his day, but this feels almost like uncharted territory. He hisses when she flexes around him involuntarily, tightening even further though he didn’t think that was even possible.

“I’m going to wreck this pussy, baby.” He punctuates his statement by withdrawing till only the tip remains, pushing back in with a purposeful thrust of his hips. Naima nearly chokes on the pitiful whine that claws its way out of her throat. “You’re gonna feel me in here for days.”

To his credit, he tries to keep his pace even and not too fast. He really does. His fingers are probably bruising her skin from how tightly he’s gripping her hips but it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and sane at this point. 

“You call this wrecking me? I could’ve done this at home with my Rabbit.” Naima can admit that Yunho’s dick was a hard pill to swallow at first, but she’s thoroughly adjusted and in need of more. Judging by the way his hips still she’s about to get just what she was aiming for. She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her upright so that he can whisper in her ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch that pretty little mouth of yours?” He practically growls in her ear as he grinds against her cervix. The pain mixes with the pleasure in a way that’s starting to make her lightheaded. 

“No, you didn’t.” She responds breathily. Her fingernails dig into his thighs painfully but Yunho doesn’t care even a little bit.

“Well, I should’ve.” He shoves her back towards the mattress not giving her even a few seconds to get her bearings before he’s rearing back to slam back into her tight heat. 

She shouts his name, squirming in his iron grip but he shows her no mercy. The time for that has past. Yunho’s hips piston in out of her at a furious pace. His gaze is fixated on the way her pussy creams on his dick with every thrust. His chest rumbles in protest when manages to pull away from him enough for his cock to fall out of her.

“Don’t run from me, Naima. You wanted this dick and now you got it.” She keens at the sound of her real name coming out of his mouth. The way his husky tone wraps around the syllables should be illegal. He fists the sheets next to her head with one hand as he uses the other to reposition her hips to allow him to slide back inside. His legs straddle both of hers, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck her into the mattress.

Naima’s fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks in Yunho’s wrists as she holds on for dear life. She’s never been so thoroughly fucked in all her life. He’s reaching spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed until now. She’s on the verge of tears when he slows his frantic pace. He lowers himself so that his larger frame dwarfs hers once more. His arms looped under hers to hold her close to him. Yunho resumes his movements, opting for a much more relaxed cadence. The purposeful grind of his hips is just as overwhelming if not more so after the intensity from before.

“This is my pussy now.” Yunho grunts into her ear. He sucks marks into every inch of skin that his lips can reach. “No one will ever fuck you this good. Never fuck you this deep. You’re all mine.”

Naima bites down hard on a pillow that she must have grabbed at some point as she clenches around him hard. It dawns on her vaguely that Yunho hasn’t touched her clit once. She’s about to come from penetration alone. A feat she’s never been able to accomplish. The very Earth feels like it’s opened up beneath her when the orgasm that had been flirting with her senses finally washes over her. She feels him grow impossibly harder inside her as he reaches his own end. Black spots dance across her vision when the throbbing sensation of him filling the condom triggers a smaller, biting orgasm. 

She’s surprised that she manages to stay conscious if only barely. Her surprise only grows when she feels a warm towel gently wiping between her legs. Her shock reaches a fever pitch when Yunho’s fingers start working into her calf muscles. She chooses to stay silent out of fear that he might stop if caught being nice. 

“You done pretending to be asleep? Or did I actually fuck you stupid?” She can practically hear the smile in his voice as his fingers climb higher to her thighs. So much for peacefully enjoying this massage.

“I like you better when you don’t speak.” His amused laughter brings a smile to her own face despite her attempts to tamp it down. She shivers when he places a chaste kiss on the swell of her ass before going back to his ministrations on her legs. Knox is never going to let her hear the end of this once he finds out.

 She’s about to go insane. Naima’s stomach has growled twelve times in as many minutes and if she doesn’t eat something soon there will be fatal consequences. She checks her phone once more to check Knox’s location and nearly cries when it says that he’s arrived at DevTech. Just a few minutes stands between her and hot bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and an extra large caramel macchiato. 

The sight of Knox navigating the sea of cubicles with her breakfast in hand may as well be the second coming of Christ. She throws her arms around her neck the second he steps into her office. He pretends to be disgusted when she pecks him on his cheek repeatedly. Knox takes a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk to talk before he goes back downstairs to work. Their conversation when Yunho suddenly burst through the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Naima is appalled at the way he’s just invited himself into her office without even having the decency to knock first.

“I should be asking you that. I asked you for the Murchison report fifteen minutes ago but I guess you were too busy with your little boy toy here to actually do your fucking job.” Knox stands, mouth fixed to defend her, but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Knox, can you excuse us please?” Naima says sweetly. Her tone is sweet and even, but there’s a hard edge to it that tells Knox she’ll be able to handle Yunho’s temper tantrum just fine.

Naima wraps her sandwich up as she motions for Yunho to have a seat in the chair Knox has just vacated. She shrugs her shoulders when he refuses, crossing her modest office to lock the door and close the blinds she’d installed.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Jeong? Did you fall and hit your head? How dare you come to my office and insinuate that I’m not doing my job?.” He can tell that she’s working hard to keep from yelling at him but her words feel like a slap in the face either way. 

“Look, I just need the Murchison report so that I can finish some paper-” Naima doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. She has no patience for him and his bullshit.

“Cut the bullshit, Yunho. The Murchison report wouldn’t be useful for anything other than end of year reporting which we are eight months away from so what the fuck do you actually want from me?” She’s seething. DevTech has a super relaxed company culture but HR still wouldn’t take too kindly to her punching another employee in the throat.

“Why didn’t you text me back yesterday?” Naima is taken aback. She remembers receiving a few texts from him on Sunday — how he got her number she doesn’t know — but it wasn’t anything that she felt warranted a response. 

“Why would you want me to?” 

The more they talk, the more Naima realizes that they went into that bedroom with very different ideas of what was going to happen afterwards. She’d intended for it to be a one time thing for him to try and prove her wrong which he’d succeeded in doing. Nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, Yunho had other ideas that went far beyond the four walls of his bedroom. 

“This is new territory for me. I’ve never been jealous over women because I can get a new one in five minutes. I’ve never had a problem in that category.”

“Get to the point, Yunho.” She’s quickly growing bored of this conversation and she’s ready  for it to be over.

“The point is that I want to see where this goes. Are you down for that?”

“No, you’re an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s true, but I’m cute and I’ll eat you out till you cry so what’s it gonna be?” He looks so hopeful that part of Naima wants to reject him again just to mess with him, but she’s not totally heartless. She decides to make him a deal.

“I’ll give you one week and then we’ll go from there now about this eating out business…” She trails off, looking at him suggestively. 

“Come home with me after work and I’ll give you what you want and more.” The mischievous grin on his face promises another day of limping around and Naima is excited to say the least. 

“You’ve got a deal. Now get out of my office.” She deadpans as she starts to unwrap the breakfast sandwich she hadn’t been able to finish earlier. He catches her off guard when he swoops in to steal a kiss from her lips as his “parting gift”. 

“Later, Ravioli.” 

She touches her fingers to her lips as she watches him walk back to his own office through her open door. It’s going to be an interesting week.

[markwatkinsconsumerguide]

Consumer Guide / No.111 / American musician, Barbara Markay, with Mark Watkins.

MW : Why decide (initially) to switch from making classical music to pop?  

BM : It happened during my first year at Juilliard College toward the end of the school year. It was in their new building at Lincoln Center, and I was practicing the piano in one of their practice rooms on the 5th floor, which had windows and a beautiful view of the streets below and the whole Lincoln Center area. I was taking a little break, and was looking out the window and thought to myself that I should be down there experiencing life and meeting interesting people, instead of practicing piano all day long! I had gotten into the Juilliard prep department / pre-college division when I was 10 years old, and had been a classical pianist for a long time. Maybe it was time for a change!  

After that day in the practice room, I started to think about this more and more, especially every time I got a practice room with a “window on the world” so to speak. I started to think about all those people walking around on the streets, and who among them was actually going to be interested in listening to classical music. I thought that I might be wasting my musical talent on my present studies as a pianist and composer, and that I was much more interested in talking to people and finding out what they were thinking and why they said and did the things they did.

I became more and more interested in writing lyrics, which turned into my first pop songs. I realized that I could communicate the music I had inside me via pop music better than just performing classical music, because I could write about the whole new exciting culture of the times with no narrow, preordained musical style restrictions, or older musical rules. I could write and say whatever I wanted to! It was a brand new world for me! And so much fun! I still appreciated and loved classical music, and graduated from Juilliard college at the end of the four years, but I was now writing these funny, risqué, pop songs, just piano and voice, and everyone I played them for loved it!    

We had academic studies as well as music classes as part of our program, and one of these classes was English literature, which I suddenly was great at. I don’t know where this understanding of human beings came from, or my love for reading English literature, but one day my English teacher, Beatrice Taub (who also taught at Columbia University), asked me after class if I really really was sure, that being a classical pianist and composer was really what I wanted to do with my life, because I was exceptionally good at literature. She suggested that I might take some extension classes at Columbia University to explore it further, maybe transferring to Columbia eventually.    

It was then that I realized that these songs I was writing were going to be a better career path for me because they involved both writing and music, and I got that encouragement to continue with pop music. There was also another class I took that the music students would take together with the actors, that also was encouraging me to continue to write pop music.

Some of the people in my class were destined to be really famous actors, and one of them was Robin Williams. I felt more at ease in this class because they were mostly all actors, and had broader interests than the music students, I felt. Robin asked me one day to play some more of my songs for him, because he wanted to do a show out of them. He said he just loved the humor and the music I had put to the songs. He said he wanted to do some kind of a musical review with it.  He was very funny even then. Just a natural comic, but also a great actor. Nothing came of it at that time, but my songs were eventually made into many musical reviews years later.

That was the beginning of my pop musical career.    

Christopher Reeve, Kevin Spacey, Christine Baranski (1974), Kelsey Grammer, Kevin Kline, Patty LuPone, William Hurt, and more, were all actors who were part of the new acting department at the new Juilliard building at Lincoln Center. Eventually, years later, they would put in a classical guitar department, and a jazz department, which would have been unheard of before the new building came into being. Before these new times, Juilliard considered classical guitar to be “folk” music, and jazz wasn’t even on their radar. I guess someone was thinking like me, and these other forms of music needed to be heard and expressed as well as traditional classical music. So I think it was in the 1980s they got Sharon Isbin (fabulous classical guitarist) to head up the new guitar department, and Wynton Marsalis to head up the new jazz department to get these new genres started at the new Juilliard.  

So much for my very formative Juilliard years!  

These early songs were part of my piano & voice comedy act that was very popular at the time. A lot of people compared me to being a musical Joan Rivers. ‘It’s All Rite’ was part of this set of songs. I went to the UK on vacation soon after graduating college, and met Lee Allen, a music promoter with Carousel Artists (I think that was the name of his company) who booked me on a college tour of England and Ireland. Eventually, I put a small group together and performed everywhere. I played at the New University of Ulster, Belfast, and I opened for 10CC at, I believe, Kings College in London, and played many other colleges as well. What a great time I had, and everyone really liked the songs, including the risqué ones! And I just loved England! But then it became time to return to the states.    

MW : Where does your music fit in terms of categorisation / the music scene?

BM : It wasn’t until the mid-1980s that I started writing more serious pop songs, not the early comedy stuff anymore. That was just after I had put out ‘It's All Rite’, the 12” dance, salsa single version of the song, and it was such a huge international hit. After that, I got interested in metaphysics - the invisible world so to speak - and more philosophical and spiritual matters. I found my first and very great meditation teacher, Anne Elizabeth Cooper, in New York City, and studied metaphysics with her for two years. It absolutely changed my life! I developed a totally different point of view of everything! I started writing songs more along these lines, and also songs about how people relate to each other on deeper levels. I needed to grow as a writer and artist, so this new path I took expanded my views of life and consciousness level.  

Some of my early pop albums like Change To Come and Heart Like A Song contain some of my favorite and most prized songs, like ‘Still Need You’, ‘Change To Come’, ‘I Am The River’ and ‘Fallen Angel’ from the Change To Come album.  And from the Heart Like A Song album, my favorites are, ‘In The Silence’, ‘You Are What You Believe’, ‘Hands Of The Artist’ and ‘All That I Am’. You can tell by just the titles how I had shifted focus and had finally grounded myself in more meaningful songs that brought in a brand new audience.

After those two albums. I continued expanding to world beat grooves with the Shambhala Dance album, which won best dance/dub/club album of the year (New Age Reporter finalist 2005 Lifestyle music award!). ‘Atlantis’, the first cut on the album, got great reviews and lots of airplay, even today it’s still being played. It’s been called “a meditation through movement”, and, “an exotic voyage of mysterious flamenco, Asian and middle eastern melodies, full of powerful world beat grooves beautifully blended together to create an atmosphere of intense, vital emotions both sensual and meditative at the same time” (Wind and Wire magazine, April 2005, Bill Binkelman).

I continued exploring different styles with a meditation album, Heaven And Earth, which is a continuous 50 minute meditation. I got and still get a lot of plays in the yoga studios and meditation classes with this one and the Shambhala Dance album. But you can see how my shift to more metaphysical and spiritual music has carried me into these different, but related styles. I even composed a musical rendition of the ancient, venerated prayer, ‘The Great Invocation’, given to humanity by ascended Tibetan master Djwhal Khul. I have shifted styles as I matured and explored a more expanded and deeper understanding of what I wanted to express musically.  

MW : How are you using social media to stream / promote your music on platforms such as Spotify, iTunes etc?.  

BM : It’s great! You can see all of the albums and singles I’ve done on Spotify, iTunes, and the other streaming services right away. So can all the other artists who put content out there. Everyone had to switch to streaming for the great international exposure. There’s nothing like it!  

MW : Two of your early records were banned. Did you set out to challenge the mainstream with titles  ‘It’s All Rite To F*ck All Nite…’ and  ‘Give Your Dick To Me’?  

BM : I was never really “banned”. What happened is that I produced the first 12” dance single version of  ‘It’s All Rite’, and took it to all the record labels, which were mostly all in New York at the time. Everyone absolutely loved the record! Everyone absolutely wanted a few copies for themselves and their friends. But nobody had the balls to put it out into the market!!!! They were all afraid of repercussions, censorship, and their reputations! So I decided that I would put it out myself, something nobody had done at the time! I thought the record needed to be heard. I found a pressing plant in New Jersey, who were fine with pressing it up, then I went to an art store and got some “press type” and designed my own album cover. I got a friend of mine to take a picture of me, and voila! I had an album ready to go. I had no monies to promote the record, only just enough to record it and press it up. I figured that if I could get it heard by some people, maybe I could get some interest in it and maybe sell a few copies.

At that time, in New York and across the whole country, there were record pools, which were organizations of DJ’s who played the music in the dance clubs. I sent a 12” record (CD’s hadn’t been invented yet) to a list of record pools around the country, and to my surprise, I got a great response. Everyone wanted a copy to play. It was a salsa dance groove, something kinda new for mainstream clubs at the time, but the song was funny and danceable so everyone liked it and wanted to hear it. This was a time when you couldn’t get any airplay without a record label behind you. It was payola all the way. But what I could get was club play, and these DJ’s kept asking me for more and more records. And now people were asking the DJ’s where they could buy the record. So I had to get a distributor to put the records into record stores.

By this time, the record was being played in most all the clubs in the United States, but with no place to buy it.  My first thought was to go to Sam Goody, one of the biggest record stores in New York at the time, and see if they would sell the record. They said yes, showing me a copy of some dance/club charts they had in the store that said that the record was #1 on the charts!!!!! I had no idea about these separate dance/club listings and was really excited that it was already charting. But there were about five dance charts around at this time, and ‘It’s All Rite’ was #1 on all of them! It stayed #1 for about five or six months in a row! It was a sensation! This started in about May of 1978, or 1979, I think, and ran thru September. Sam Goody gave me the very hard to get whole window display of my record, so did Colony records, another big record store in New York City at the time, and the rest is history! Other record stores followed.  

Soon I realized that I needed a bigger distributor, so I contacted several in all the sections of the US, like the South, the Midwest, North Central, East Coast, West Coast, etc. They kept asking me for more and more records. I couldn’t figure out where the records were going. So one day I called my local one stop guy in Long Island City, and he said they were all going overseas. I asked where overseas, and he said, “Everywhere! Especially Holland.” Apparently, 12 miles off the coast of Holland was a ship that had a radio station broadcasting from it, and they could play anything that they wanted. My record was the number one request! Nobody could do anything about it to stop them, because they were in international waters. 12 miles out!!!

Since this was my first big hit, I was inexperienced as to what I needed to do next. It wasn’t too much later, about December of that year, I got a call from WEA International in Holland (Warner Brothers, Electra & Atlantic records all together) who said they wanted to license my record. It sounded great to me, so I took the deal. They published it in Europe, South America, England, Japan, Asia, etc. and promoted it in all the clubs. And I finally got legitimate airplay on it, because on the “B” side I had recorded the “clean” version, called ‘It’s All Rite To Truck All Nite’. Lots and lots of airplay everywhere! Finally!  

It became #16 on the Billboard pop charts in the Benelux countries, and #2 on the charts in Paris, Michael Jackson being #1 at the time. WEA asked me for another single to put out, and I gave them, ‘Give Your Dick To Me’, and that was also very successful. I did the same thing with the “clean” “B” side, ‘Give Your Flesh To Me’.    

So the bottom line is that if you have a record that everyone wants to hear, nothing will stop it from being heard. The people decided they wanted to hear ‘It’s All Rite’, and it squeezed itself through the cracks to be a big hit.  Also, it started a new trend in music of what could be heard and played. Several DJ’s told me that I had really done something BIG with that song. They said it changed the music business forever! It opened the door for new things to come into the market, and then the people could judge for themselves whether they liked it.    

Now getting back to your original question about being censored/banned, I really didn’t have any criticism for doing the record. People just wanted to get a copy of it and enjoy it. And I didn’t set out to “challenge” the system. I was simply expressing my views on what people were really thinking, and I did it via a danceable, funny, comedy record. I was just having fun!

Now, a lot of people took it seriously, literally, and that’s ok. Everyone has their own interpretation of things. That is what Art is for. To make people think. And that is what, ‘It’s All Rite’, did. It made people think, laugh, dance, party, and feel good! Remember, this was a time when Lenny Bruce had set a new standard, Joan Rivers was on the scene, along with Richard Pryor, George Carlin, etc. By the time I came along I took it all for granted that I would be able to put this record out. I wrote it when I was 19 years old and still in college, so that’s what you write when you’re that age. I didn’t care at all what people would think about me or this song!    

Nobody I was aware of wrote anything negative about this “outrageous” song.  One of the many reviews I got for my act (when I was performing all my funny songs with piano & voice around town in the late 1970s) was from Michael’s Thing, an LGBT magazine, New York City’s #1 weekly entertainment magazine and “going out guide” with reviews, comics, of all the performances, Art in the city, new and noteworthy etc. which said about my act, “…...she (Barbara) makes you laugh while she stabs you in the back!”  I got nothing but praise for putting this song out! The LGBT community loved what I had done and fully supported me, along with great reviews from the Village Voice, and a nice write up from Billboard magazine by Roman Kozak. I also played at Huey’s Bar, a gay men’s bar, on Hudson street (west side of New York city near the Hudson river) for several months, through that whole summer, just piano and voice. It was a big hit!  

MW : Tell me about your involvement with Carly Simon’s Coming Around Again album?  

BM : I was doing synthesizer programming for a few of the songs on the album. The arranger I was working with was doing some arrangements for her new album, and I got to do some of the synth programming. It was lots of fun to be involved and to go to the recording sessions.    

MW :  …and the Michael Jackson (BAD) video…. also include any thoughts on Jackson’s charisma, ability (song & dance)….  

BM : I never got to meet Michael Jackson, but I did get to meet Martin Scorsese who was really really interesting! He was asked to produce the video for the song. He came up to the office one day to discuss what kind of extra scored music was needed for the BAD video, music before the song started, and after the song was through. He was very intense, a real thinking kind of guy, and someone who knew what he wanted. He also has a great sense of humor! He impressed me as someone who really knows people. Meeting Scorcese was actually more exciting for me than meeting Jackson as he’s a real character!!! A mature adult!  

MW : You’ve worked with Bruce Willis as a backing singer. Tell me about those times … also include your views on his abilities as an actor turned singer…  

BM : Bruce Willis is a really great actor, and can play almost any part. That includes as a blues singer. The show we did was as his backup singers (along with two friends of mine) for the opening of the new Hard Rock Café in Austin, Texas. It was a very long day, full of rehearsals on stage with the band, and waiting for Bruce to arrive. As we tested mikes and stage positions, we could see a huge crowd starting to form in order to get a good view of the coming show. The press was there, and reported close to 100,000 people waiting to see this opening.

Bruce eventually got there, extremely exhausted. By the time the show started it was dark out, and everyone was excited. Then came the big moment when Bruce Willis came on stage, and everyone went wild! The band started to play and he started to sing. I was shocked by how well he could sing, and put over a song. It was a real “performance”.

He may not have all the technique of a “professional” singer, but what he has is better. He can make you get into the song, feel the song, …it’s not really the voice but the performance that’s spectacular. So close up to me. I could really see why he’s considered one of the great actors of our time. Acting, singing and performing are all connected. And he puts it all together beautifully.    

MW : Describe a typical weekend….before lockdown and during…

BM : Well, I used to love to go to the ocean and watch the sunset a lot, then meet my friends for dinner in one of the great restaurants by the beach or in town. Before lockdown there were great movies to see, not just at home (these days) but at the real movie houses. Plenty of them around in the “old” days. During lockdown everyone has to stream movies at home. At least streaming is safe!  

I also used to like to work out at the gym, but you can’t do that yet, so I’m hoping that sometime in the near future that will become viable again. Sometimes it’s fun just to take a ride up pacific coast highway and breathe in the sea air and see the beautiful scenery. You can still always do that.

There are lots of farmers markets around town, so I always go on the weekends to shop for fresh, whole, organic fruits and veggies! That’s always fun, and sometimes I go with my friends too.

Eating good, fresh, organic foods is my entire “Health Plan”!  You are what you eat! So far, so good!  And I can do this all year long. And during this lockdown, we just all wear masks. It’s fun being at the farmers markets and seeing all the chefs from all the great restaurants in town shopping for their weekly recipes with those big shopping carts they push thru the market. They buy whole boxes of produce and everything else sold there.  

MW : What is your favourite…Carly Simon single?

BM : I think that would be  ‘Mockingbird’, especially the 2015 remaster. James Taylor sounds great on this, and the two of them together just fit together perfectly. This remaster is from Songs From The Trees (a musical memoir collection). I’m glad they did this, because this is a classic! You can hear all the instruments clearly, the voices are very present, and the whole thing is a pleasure to listen to. Musical tastes change, but the classics will remain with us from “gentler” times.  

MW : AND your favourite… Bruce Willis film?

BM :  (I can’t choose just one!)

The Whole Nine Yards : hysterically funny!!! I laugh every time. The Fifth Element is a real classic! I see it again every time it’s on TV. Bruce Willis is fantastic in that “deadpan” character he plays. And the score by French composer Eric Serra is superb. Hip, powerful, rhythmic, smooth, jagged, everything needed to match the screen scene.

But the music stands alone if you just listen to the score by itself without the movie. I think they sold a lot of the music score. The Sixth Sense -  so powerful, and metaphysical! It’s right up my alley! And Bruce Willis has a knack for finding well written screenplays! That’s a big key to the success of the movies he’s in.

And since they’re so well written, he has an opportunity to really show off his talent and get into those great parts.    

MW : AND your favourite… Michael Jackson album?

BM : I think I like the Thriller album the best. I love the songs, especially, ‘Beat It’, ‘Thriller’, and ‘Human Nature’. And it was so well produced by Quincy Jones, with pounding gritty grooves, and great songs.

MW : List, in order of preference, your Top 10 singles & albums of all-time…

BM : (I have the original CD’s of this music, and still call them CD’s, but I’m sure this music is all streaming/downloads by now!)

1. Famous Blue Raincoat: songs by Leonard Cohen, studio album by singer Jennifer Warnes: exquisite, perfect singing of songs with her crystal clear voice! What a superb collaboration this was! I wish they had made more albums together like this one! A true classic! When I first heard it I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Songs so well written, songs with a real message, and so well sung and produced.    

2. I also love Leonard Cohen’s, ‘Hallelujah’, sung by anyone! It gives me chills every time! Powerful and hauntingly beautiful! The best cover of it that I love is K.D. Lang’s version. (I think it was on her album, Hymns Of The 49th Parallel, 2004).  

3. Bach: Sonatas & Partitas: violinist: Itzhak Perlman: The sub-title of this 2 CD set put out by EMI classics says it all: “Great Recordings of the Century”, which is aptly titled!!! I can listen to this album at any time, and it will put me into a deep trance. I can’t stop listening.

Itzhak Perlman is an absolute master of the violin, and these solo compositions are not only some of Bach’s finest works, but Perlman’s rendition of them is flawless. He understands what the composer was trying to accomplish, and every time I listen to this it feels like he is showing us the true soul of humanity! The longing, the passion, the “reaching to the Light”! The thing about this kind of classical music is its very high vibration! I think it does make you smarter!

4. Then we have Jorge Aragao and his live album entitled Ao Vivo (which means “live”). Another album I have listened to for years. He’s a Brazilian singer/songwriter, and the songs are all sung in Brazilian Portuguese. But don’t let that stop you from listening. It’s exciting, passionate and very well recorded. It has the whole flavor of Brazil in it! Recorded in 1999.

The last song is a great rendition of ‘Ave Maria’. A true classic! (I took a great vacation to Brazil for a month once in the mid-2000s and this album is the real deal! The Brazilians absolutely Love him!)  

5. Edith Piaf: 30e Anniversaire 2 cd set (probably on all the streaming services by now). All the songs are beautifully recorded, written, produced and her voice is extraordinary and present. It gives you the whole culture and passion of the French. It always puts me at a French café with friends and great great food! If you’ve never heard Edith Piaf, it’s well worth a listen.

There was a wonderful movie on her life called La Vie en Rose which I also recommend to get the whole feeling of this music. And I listen to this music often, especially when I’m feeling like there’s no culture west of New York City! She saves the day every time!    

6. John Lennon: Imagine: I think everyone knows this is a classic! It’s a positive message!  

7. The Eagles: Hotel California the whole album, but especially the title song, ‘Hotel California’: It never gets old!    

8. Bach: English Suites performed by pianist Andras Schiff: he’s a Bach specialist, and has a great insight into what Bach intended with this great recording: Part of my regular listening.    

9. Buena Vista Social Club: it really gives you the heart and soul of Cuba. I think the reason this album was such a hit when it was first put out is the huge amount of heart, passion, and honesty it evokes. You can feel it’s the real deal. Nothing fake here!  

10. And last but not least, two albums that were put out by Putumayo a while back, called Brasileiro and Samba Bossa Nova. They are compilations of several Brazilian artists and styles, including bossa nova, folk, light samba, and I think some other styles too, beautifully put together. They are calming, gentle, rhythmic and haunting, and a great way to wake up in the morning. So many positive vibes! So musical and unpretentious!

MW : Where / what was the best meal you’ve ever enjoyed and what was the company like?

BM : Well, all I can remember is that it was in a Paris restaurant, and I was taken there by a record company executive to discuss publishing my music through a Paris company. I remember she told me that the closer you get to Paris from anywhere in the world, the better the food gets!!!

And I wasn’t disappointed!

The meal was some kind of spectacular steak, mousse au chocolate for desert, and fine red wine throughout the meal. Cheeses for dessert! (that was more dessert after the dessert!) And it was the atmosphere and vibe, not just of the restaurant, but of Paris, and the French people and their culture that I found so fabulous! I love the French and they loved me back!!!!  

MW : What can we anticipate coming from you later on in 2021?

BM : I’m currently thinking about something along the lines of my previous Shambhala Dance and Heaven And Earth albums. Worldbeat and with a sleek groove.

It takes time to compose something like that.

It will be announced on my website when it’s done. www.barbaramarkay.com  and I will put it out on the streaming services / downloads as usual.    

(c) Mark Watkins / May 2021

[flowerfan2]

Part of You Indefinitely - Ch. 3

Chapter 3 is up!  Read it here or on A03.

Summary:  An accident sends Patrick to the hospital and terrifies David.  What follows changes their relationship in ways David and Patrick never imagined.  A story of love and its challenges.

Chapter 3

When Alexis returns, she tries to make David get out of Patrick’s bed, but David won’t do it.  It feels far too good to be sitting pressed up against Patrick, his body warm and alive against his side.  They compromise by raising the head of the bed until they are mostly sitting up, Patrick leaning against David’s shoulder as David hand feeds him tiny bites of cinnamon roll.

Things are going well enough until a nurse comes in to look at Patrick’s head wound, and it turns out that Alexis is the only one besides the nurse who can face the thought of stitches in Patrick’s scalp without getting dizzy.

“It’s really not that bad, Patrick,” Alexis says lightly, shoving her compact mirror back in her bag after David screeches at her to put it away.  “When your hair grows back, the scar will be completely hidden.”

“My hair?” Patrick asks.  “What did they do to my hair?”

Alexis purses her lips at him.  “I suppose you could keep that part short, David loves that 90’s asymmetric style-”

“There will be none of that,” David interrupts, propping a hip on Patrick’s bed and running his fingers gently through the untouched hair on the top of Patrick’s head.  “It’s just a little trimmed patch above your ear.  It’ll grow back in no time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me they shaved my head?  It must look ridiculous.”  Patrick looks at David, betrayed, and it’s all David can do not to laugh.  For once it isn’t David being vain.

“It’s hardly your whole head.  Your boy next door good looks are still intact.”  David kisses Patrick’s frowning lips, which seems to satisfy him for the moment.

“Eww, David.”

“Shut it, Alexis.  I’ll kiss my handsome husband whenever I like.”

Alexis tilts her head at them, and then leans down and smacks a quick kiss on Patrick’s cheek, making him blush.  “He is pretty cute, even with a shaved head.”  She stands up, grinning at them and tossing her own luscious waves – adding insult to injury, David thinks.   If someone shaved Alexis’ head without her permission there’d be hell to pay.   “I’m going to go find us some lunch.  Try to keep it PG while I’m gone.”

****

Patrick’s mood sours as the afternoon wears on.  When the physical therapist comes in to evaluate him, Patrick glares at David until David leaves the room.  David splits the next hour between pacing the hallway and answering texts from his parents, who have already flown halfway home from Fiji and are in the airport in L.A., waiting for their flight to Toronto.  He uses every trick he can think of to convince them not to come, including telling Moira that Schitt’s Creek has implemented a ban on wigs, but they board the flight anyway.  David follows this up with a quick text exchange with Jocelyn, who promises to pick his parents up at the airport and keep them away from the hospital for as long as possible.

When David is finally allowed back into the room, Patrick is having his dinner.  As David watches, Patrick fumbles with a fork, unable to get even one piece of the overcooked pasta from the bowl to his mouth.  The orderly makes a noise of disapproval, taking the fork out of Patrick’s hand and trying to feed him, at which point Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head into the pillow.

“All right, that’s enough,” David says.  “You, leave the food and clear out.”

“Patrick needs to eat-”

“And you need to go somewhere you’re wanted.  Shoo.”  David waves his hand at the orderly until he leaves, practically tsk-tsking as he goes.

David takes a deep breath and rests one hip against the bed, giving Patrick time to regain his composure.

“I don’t need to be fed like a child,” Patrick finally mumbles into the pillow.

“I know,” David says.

“It’s humiliating.”

“I’m sorry.”

David scoots a little closer to Patrick and Patrick slides his head from the pillow to David’s thigh.  “I want to go home,” Patrick says, his voice tight.

“Tomorrow, right?”

“They’re not sure.”  There’s a pause, and when Patrick continues, he’s clearly hating every word.  “They said I have to be able to transfer from the bed to a chair, and do better with meals.”

“Why?”

Patrick rolls his head, his eyes blinking up at David.  “Why?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?  So I can take care of myself,” Patrick says angrily.

“But I can take care of you,” David says, still not seeing the problem.

“You can’t,” Patrick replies.  “You have the store, and you’ll have to work even longer hours since I won’t be able to help.”

“I’ll take time off.  Patrick, come on, you really think I’m going to leave you at home alone when you’re like this?”

Unfortunately this doesn’t have the desired effect, apparently just emphasizing how helpless Patrick is right now.

“It doesn’t matter.  They’re going to send me to a rehab facility.”

It’s starting to sink in that David has missed quite a lot of information, and while a few days of rehab doesn’t sound like the worst possible thing, it’s clear that Patrick is truly shaken.

“Let me talk to them.  They can’t force you – you’re not in jail.  I’ll just take you home.”

“David, you don’t want to be stuck with me like this,” Patrick says bitterly.  “I can barely wipe my ass.  There’s no fucking choice, I have to go.”

“Patrick,” David says, rapidly realizing that things are going downhill faster than he can catch up.  If nothing else, Patrick’s use of profanity gives away how distraught he is.   “You aren’t going anywhere you don’t want to go, do you understand me?  I won’t let that happen.”

Patrick shakes his head and doesn’t answer.  David slides down until his face is up against Patrick’s, or at least the half of his face that isn’t smushed into the pillow, and whispers softly to him.  

“I know this is upsetting, more than upsetting, and you’re scared.  But you’re not alone in this.  You’re not alone in anything anymore, remember?”  He puts his arm around Patrick and pulls him close.  “Let me get all the information and see what our options are, okay?”

Patrick slides closer and buries his face in David’s neck, sniffling hard.  “Okay.”

*****

Later, after David has coaxed Patrick into eating at least a few bites of the now cold and therefore even less appetizing pasta, Patrick dozes off while an old episode of a cooking show plays on his laptop.  David goes out into the hallway and starts making calls.

He starts with Alexis, because next to his mother, she is the queen of making the impossible become possible – and while Moira seems to stumble into these situations by accident, Alexis makes things happen on her terms.  It helps that Alexis has been so chummy with Patrick’s doctor, because twenty minutes later David’s on the phone with the man himself.  They believe Patrick’s problems are caused by a head injury, not the electric shock.  But given his promising test results, there’s no medical reason Patrick can’t go home.  He’ll need some help at first – either from a family member or a home health care aide – but he can do PT on an outpatient basis if he doesn’t want to go to a residential rehab center, especially if there is someone (i.e., David) able to monitor Patrick’s condition.

David’s about to go back to Patrick’s room with the good news when he gets a text from his dad.  <i>Call me</i>

It’s progress from a guy who used to send emails in all caps.  At least this message is short.  He hopes it’s not an emergency – he’s already got his hands full with his Patrick-emergency.  His heart can only handle one at a time.

“Son, you don’t have to worry.  I’ve got it covered,” his dad says when the line connects.

“Got what covered?”

“The store.  Alexis told me about your dilemma, and you don’t need to worry about it.  Stevie’s coming in tomorrow, and between the two of us and Jocelyn after school, you won’t have to lift a finger.”

David can’t help the wave of relief he feels, even as he protests.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but last I checked you and Stevie had full time jobs of your own.”

“I already took the month off to go to Fiji, so no one’s expecting me back for at least three more weeks.  Stevie’s due some vacation time too.  Plus we just promoted two new regional managers – it’ll be good for them to have some space to do their thing without us hanging over their shoulders.”

“You can’t spend your vacation time working at the Apothecary – and you can’t make Stevie do it either.”

“Fine, I’ll give her extra vacation time, as much as she wants.  She never takes any time off anyway, no matter how much she saves up.  This will be fun for her – she doesn’t say it, but I know she misses you guys.”

It’s really too good to be true.  “Dad, are you sure?  Because Patrick and I can make it work, we’ll be okay on our own.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do this on your own, David.”

It’s oddly reminiscent of what David just said to Patrick a little while ago.  They’re not alone in this, neither of them.

“All right, but I’m still supervising operations.  Don’t go making any changes or ordering anything different without asking me.  We have to stay on brand.”

“David, I would never.”

David lets out an embarrassing half-laugh/half-cry and presses his hand over his eyes.  “Dad, I have to get back to Patrick.”

“Okay, son.  I love you.  And tell Patrick we love him too.”

David hangs up and goes into the bathroom to splash some water on his face.  His dad has gifted them the perfect solution to this problem, even if he screws up and decorates the place with poison oak in ugly vases.  He can’t wait to tell Patrick.

Unfortunately, Patrick is fast asleep when David gets back to his room.  The nurse tells David that they gave Patrick a sedative to help him rest, and that he probably won’t wake up until morning.  Glancing at his watch, he sees that it’s nearly eleven o’clock.  No wonder he feels like he’s about to pass out.  Except for a few hours of sleep crammed in the hospital bed with Patrick last night, David has been awake since the previous morning.

“Do you have someone who can take you home for the night?”  the nurse asks.  “If Patrick wakes up I’ll help him call you.  You need to take care of yourself, so you can take care of him.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you that already,” Alexis trills at him.

David turns, and Alexis is there, smiling affectionately.  “Come on, David, give your little button a kiss and let me take you home.  I promise I’ll bring you back first thing.”

David really doesn’t want to leave, but he can barely keep his eyes open, and the thought of crawling into his own bed is irresistible.  He sends Patrick a text, letting him know he’ll be back early.

“You promise you’ll have him call me if he wakes up?”  David asks the nurse.  “Even if it’s the middle of the night?”

“I will.”  The nurse walks with them out of the room.  “He’s going to be fine, your husband.  He’s mostly just scared, but he’s going to be okay.”

“I thought medical professionals aren’t supposed to make promises like that,” David says, suddenly suspicious.

“I can tell he’s going to be okay, because he’s got you and your family on his side.”

Alexis turns and steps closer to the nurse, her eyes narrowing.  “Wait, do we know you?”

The nurse laughs.  “I’m Twyla’s second cousin, Marti.  I came to singles week at Schitt’s Creek a few years ago.”

“Ugh, do you still promise to take care of Patrick?”

Marti laughs.  “I do.  Now go home already, just looking at you is making me tired.”

*****

Sleeping in his own bed isn’t quite as wonderful as David had hoped it would be; Patrick’s absence is like a physical pain.  But David does feel more like himself in the morning.

As promised, Marti calls him around six when Patrick wakes up, and puts Patrick on the phone.  He is still a little drowsy, so David just makes sure everything is more or less okay and asks him what kind of scone he wants for breakfast.

“Blueberry,” Patrick says, surprising no one.

They get to the hospital around eight, Alexis giving Patrick a quick kiss on the cheek and then skipping off on what she says is an important work-related errand, but what David thinks is probably a coffee date with Patrick’s doctor.

“He’s named Dr. Lee,” David says.  “Do we think he’s related to someone in Schitt’s Creek too?”

“Ronnie’s last name is Lee,” Patrick says.  “But there’s not exactly a family resemblance.”

Dr. Lee is tall, built, and most likely Korean.  He reminds David of a younger, even more handsome Daniel Dae Kim. “No way to know, really.  And I’m not about to ask him.”

Patrick nods in agreement.  “I can’t believe that nurse is Twyla’s cousin.  Marti seems so normal.”

“Very funny.”

“So, what was the good news?”  Patrick looks cautiously optimistic, but still so nervous that David is compelled to sit down on the bed and pull him into his arms before he goes on.

“If you don’t want to go to that rehab place, you’re not going.  You don’t need to be there to do your PT.  You can come home, with me, and I will stay home and wait on you hand and foot until you get better.”

“David, you can’t leave the store-”

“My dad and Stevie are going to work the store.  Don’t argue with me, that part wasn’t even my doing, and it’s already decided.  Either you let me stay home with you, or I’ll wander the streets lonely and pining, but I’m not needed at the Apothecary.”

Patrick seems to be holding his breath, then asks, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Patrick’s eyes are shining, and he leans into David, sighing deeply.  “David… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.  So far my mother hasn’t announced whether she’s part of this plan too, but I wouldn’t put it past her.  We might wind up with a selection of all-natural handmade wigs for sale.”

“I don’t care,” Patrick murmurs into David’s sweater.

“No, me neither.”

They pull apart when David’s stomach grumbles, and he unpacks the food he brought in.

“This doesn’t look like it came from the café,” Patrick says, as David deposits a blueberry scone iced with lemon and sparkling sugar on a paper plate.

“Nope.  We stopped at that place in Elm Falls, the one we looked at for wedding cakes?  They have a new baker with a real flair for pastries.  I’m thinking we should give them a call soon, see what it would take to set up a weekly delivery.”

David takes out his own breakfast – French toast stuffed with ricotta and strawberries, and cuts off a chunk, holding it out for Patrick to bite.

“Mmm, that’s good too.”

“Right?”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, David feeding Patrick bites of his French toast and Patrick breaking off pieces of his scone and slowly putting them into his mouth.

“Your arms seem steadier today -” David starts, and Patrick interrupts him.

“Don’t say it, I thought it too, but I don’t want to jinx anything.”

David grins at Patrick, and Patrick grins back, a little shy.  “Okay, I won’t say anything.”  He tries not to watch as Patrick picks up his iced coffee and sips from the straw, placing the plastic cup back down on the bed tray carefully but without any mishap.

“You’ll be stocking shelves in no time,” David says, and Patrick groans.  

“Shut up, please.”

Patrick’s mood improves even more when David reveals what else he brought him.

“I have never been happier to see a pair of sweats,” Patrick says, as he reluctantly lets David help him get dressed.  

“I figured that doing PT in a hospital gown probably didn’t improve the experience,” David says.  “Wait, there’s one more thing.”  He pulls out Patrick’s Café Tropicale baseball cap, which easily covers the shaved spot and the bandage on Patrick’s head.  Patrick’s smile lights up the room.

“Babe, you are really the best.”

David blushes as Patrick pulls him in for a kiss.  “I can definitely get you better hats, this is just temporary.”

“What, you mean you’re not a fan?”

David takes in his husband, smiling and laughing and thrilled to be wearing a worn green baseball cap while sitting in a hospital bed.  “I am, in fact, your very biggest fan,” he says, sappy and proud.  He kisses Patrick a few more times, for good measure, but all too soon a nurse comes in and they have to stop.

Even with his spirits lifted, Patrick still kicks David out during his physical therapy session.  David thinks it’s kind of silly, since it’s likely that the therapist might be imparting information that would be useful for them both to know, and he’d rather hear anything that’s going to upset Patrick so he can try to help deal with it before he spirals.  But he gets that Patrick is trying to hold on to some shred of privacy.  This whole situation is hell for David in terms of secondhand embarrassment, and he knows it’s a hundred times worse for Patrick.

When Patrick’s finally done with PT, David comes back into the room to find Patrick curled up on his side, his eyes closed.  David pulls his chair close to the bed and sets a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

“Tired.”

“Can I get you anything?”

Patrick just shakes his head, not opening his eyes.

David leans down and presses a kiss to Patrick’s forehead, then pulls out a magazine from his bag and starts flipping through it.  He’s bored, though, and now that’s he’s actually gotten some decent sleep, full of restless energy.  If he stays here, he’s just going to annoy Patrick with his fidgeting.

“Okay if I go for a walk?”  he asks, whispering.  “I won’t be gone long.”

“Do what you want,” Patrick mutters.

It stings.  David tells himself that it’s understandable, Patrick is going through a rough time, it’s no surprise that he’s grumpy.  But Patrick is usually so unflappable.  The contrast is striking.  David is supposed to be the dramatic one, while Patrick remains calm, the sober port in David’s passionate storm.  An exaggeration, maybe, but on the nose more often than not.

Now Patrick needs him to step up and be calm and capable for both of them.   David needs to set aside his own anxieties and be there for his husband, no matter how uncomfortable it might feel.  He’s always said that he would do anything for Patrick, but it’s a lot easier to say when his husband is cheerful and healthy and really doesn’t need much except David’s fond attention.  David is determined not to let Patrick down now, but based on his track record, he can’t help but think that the odds aren’t really in his favor.

[ificanthaveu]

7 Ways of Looking At You || Shawn Mendes

Description: the seven ways you’ve looked at Shawn since the first time you met

A/N: This takes place over the course of about a year and a half. we had to write a poem in my creative writing class about the 7 ways of looking at something and I thought it’d be pretty cute as a fic idea. I was going to make it angsty but I honestly didn’t have any energy for that

Word Count: 3.5k

i. at first glance

For the first time in days, it was sunny in Chicago. Living in an apartment just a few blocks from the studio you worked at was a blessing with weather like this. You slipped on a pair of sneakers instead of heels today and decided to walk. It’d be faster anyway in traffic like this.

The fresh air hit you, and you practically skipped out onto the sidewalk. As you walked, you checked your phone for today’s schedule. Team meeting at 9:00 and a radio interview at noon. It wasn’t too bad of a day, and maybe, if you were lucky, you’d get out of work a little early.

You pushed the door open to the studio and waved to people as you passed by. You made your way to your office and sat down to work on interview questions and editing your newest story.

You made your way to the team meeting and sat towards the front, waiting for your turn to go over what was in store for your team.

“[Y/N], the floor is yours,” your boss said before sitting down.

“Alright guys, we have a local band coming in at 11:00 today to play their song live on the radio. They’ll be in studio C, so whoever is in there today, make sure they have everything they need,” you explained before glancing down at your notes. Your heart jumped a little bit as you saw who you’d be interviewing today.

“Then, we have…” you read it one more time, making sure it was true, “Shawn Mendes coming in at noon for my show. He needs to have someone with him at all times to make sure he has everything he needs, so Kaylee, I want you on that,” you said as you wrote your assistant’s name down on the sheet.

“He should be here around 11:30, hopefully, get a photo with the local band for a little publicity for them, then have him in Studio A by 11:45. I’ll hopefully meet you a little earlier than that,” you said. Kaylee nodded her head as she wrote the times down in her notebook.

“And that’s it for today. I’ll be in my office until 11:30 if anyone needs me,” you said before gathering your things and making your way back to your office before the meeting continued with information that didn’t pertain to you.

You sat at your desk and rested your head in your hands for a moment. You had just received this promotion a few weeks ago, and you were finally getting comfortable with it. You’d interviewed some B and C list celebrities and had done a lot with local bands and musicians trying to make it big. Shawn Mendes was way out of what you were comfortable with.

You took a deep breath and gathered yourself before prepping the questions for the interview. It shouldn’t be too difficult since he just released a single a few days ago, and he had a show tonight and tomorrow in the area. Everything would be fine.

You glanced at the clock and noticed it was 11:30. Shawn should be here. Oh shit. You glanced at your reflection in the glass on your door before straightening your dress and making your way to the studio.

He wasn’t there yet, so you got comfortable in the booth and looked over your notes a few more times. There was a gentle knock on the door before Kaylee peeked her head through and gave you a look. You nodded your head quickly and stood up as she let Shawn and his manager in.

You swore he was radiating. You don’t know what it was, but he was most definitely glowing. You needed his skincare routine. You plastered a smile on your face, which wasn’t too difficult, and walked towards him.

“Shawn, it’s so great to meet you, I’m [Y/N],” you said as you stuck your hand out. He smiled at you and shook your hand as he glanced around the studio.

“You’re shaking,” he said. Your smile dropped as his manager sighed, and Kaylee tried to hide her laugh.

“To be honest, you’re the biggest celebrity I’ve ever interviewed, and I’m freaking out,” you said just above a whisper. He laughed at you and patted your shoulder lightly.

“Trust me, this’ll be great. You’ll be fine. You had to do something right to get here,” he said before moving to sit down.

This man had just met you and was already calming your nerves. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

ii. at the second meeting

The red carpet was buzzing and flashing with lights at this year’s Video Music Awards. You were situated somewhat near the end as you gripped your microphone as tightly as you could. After your interview went incredibly smooth with Shawn, you were interviewing A list celebrities whenever they were in Chicago. You were somehow the go-to person now. You were still trying to wrap your head around that.

Somehow, that led to your boss choosing you to go to LA for the award show. Radio interviews were one thing, a red carpet interview was a whole other thing.

So far, you’d interviewed a boy band you’d barely heard of, an actress who’s starring in an upcoming Netflix original and the hosts of the show. It was going fine, but not as great as your expectations were. The pressure was on.

You took a deep breath as you looked down the carpet to see if you could get someone else to talk to you for a little bit.

You glanced back and forth before seeing him. Shawn posed for a few pictures in a maroon dress shirt paired with black slacks. He was still glowing. He finished his last photograph and looked down the line of reporters before meeting eyes with you. He instantly lit up, and you felt your stomach drop.

He be-lined straight for you, ignoring people from networks that were far bigger than yours. Before you could react, he was pulling you into a tight hug. You reacted as quickly as you could and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled away with a smile on his face.

“You upgraded!” He practically yelled. You couldn’t hold back the laugh that came from your chest.

“I did! All because of you!” You exclaimed as grabbed his arm.

“That was all you, dear. I knew you had it in you when I barely knew your name.” The nickname made your heart skip a beat.

“Would you want to spare me another interview?” You asked with a smile on your face as you waved the microphone around.

“Anything for you.”

iii. as friends

“I’ve been waiting for ten minutes,” you said as Shawn finally walked into the coffee shop you planned on meeting at. He rolled his eyes at you before sitting across from you.

“My Uber was late,” he said as he glanced down at the menu.

“Excuses, excuses,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. He pulled your menu down as he gave you a look.

“You’ve been in LA for a week, and it’s already changed you, tragic,” he said, a little overdramatically, closing his menu. “And to think I was going to give you a tour of the city.”

“You promised!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, calm down.”

You both ordered your coffee to-go before making your way out onto the sidewalk.

“I can’t believe they transferred you to LA. That’s like top tier for this shit,” he said as you walked. You nodded your head and took a sip.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it,” you said with a slight shake of your head.

“Are you finished unpacking yet?” He gave you a look as you avoided his gaze.

“Sure,” you said quickly. He lightly pushed you.

“You’re such a liar,” he laughed out.

“I’ve been busy!”

“Everyone here is busy. You still have to unpack, or those boxes will sit there for months.” You rolled your eyes at him as you turned the corner.

“Yeah, I’ll get to it,” you said through a sigh. The two of you stayed quiet as you continued walking.

“Thanks for meeting me,” you finally said. He looked down at you with a confused look.

“What are friends for?” You gave him a look.

“Are we friends? I thought I was just some girl who interviewed you sometimes.” He laughed and shook his head at you before bumping his shoulder against yours.

“We’re definitely friends.”

“Good.”

iv. as best friends

You could smell the popcorn burning the instant you stepped inside your apartment, and you already regretted giving Shawn your spare key so he could start movie night early.

“Are you serious, Shawn?” You yelled as you kicked off your shoes and made your way into the kitchen. There stood Shawn, fanning your stove with a towel. He smiled sheepishly at you as you opened the windows and started all the fans.

“I tried to do that thing where you pop it on the stove because it tastes so good, but I forgot about it while looking for a movie,” he explained as quickly as he could.

“Microwave popcorn tastes just as good,” you say as you look at him with your hands on your hips. He feigns offense as his hand goes to his chest.

“You have no taste buds. I can’t believe this,” he exaggerated. You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the pan from the stove and tossed it in the sink. You ran the cold water and let it soak before turning around to look at Shawn again.

“So, how was work?” He asked as he threw the popcorn in the microwave this time.

“Good, nothing out of the ordinary,” you said as you made your way into your room to change into something more comfortable. You slipped on some shorts and Shawn’s sweatshirt you’d stolen from him last week.

“Did you ask your boss for a raise?” He yelled from the kitchen. You bit the inside of your cheek and didn’t respond.

“[Y/N], I know you can hear me.” You slowly emerged out of your room and glanced at Shawn as he looked at you with that disappointing look you hated.

“I’ll do it tomorrow?” You say with a slight question in your voice. He shook his head slowly as he made his way into your living room.

“You deserve a raise,” he says as he holds the popcorn in his lap on the couch. You settle down next to him and grab a few pieces.

“Yeah, I know. I just hate the asking part,” you said. You grabbed the blanket from the back of your couch and draped it across your lap.

“Want me to ask for you?” He asked with that dumb look on his face.

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you lightly pushed his shoulder away from you. He laughed at you before grabbing the remote and bringing up Netflix.

“Mamma Mia?”

“Duh.”

v. as maybe possibly more than friends

You leaned against the wall in the airport and tried your hardest not to fall asleep. Shawn’s flight had been delayed a few hours, and you were definitely regretting telling him you’d pick him up.

Your hometown airport was fairly small, and at this time of night, there were maybe five other people in the airport. You really wished you weren’t one of them.

You glanced up at the board and released your breath when you noticed Shawn’s flight had landed. You moved closer to the entrance and waited for him anxiously. It had been just over a month since you’d seen him, and it had been the longest you’d gone without being together. Luckily, he was able to get a few days off to fly to your hometown for your birthday.

People started streaming out of the terminal, and you glanced at everyone while waiting for Shawn. You finally found him, and you were instantly awake. His eyes met yours, and you both couldn’t contain your smiles.

He set his bag down as you sprinted towards him and into his arms. He held your head to his chest as he rested his head on top of yours. You swayed back and forth as you held each other as tight as possible.

“We’re never going this long without seeing each other ever again,” he mumbled into your hair.

“Agreed.” You finally pulled away and grabbed his backpack off the ground and handed it to him. He followed you to your car and threw his bag in the back seat.

“Are you sure your parents are fine with me staying with you guys?” He questioned for the tenth time.

“Of course they are. They’ve been wanting to meet you since the first time I interviewed you. They nearly died when they later found out we were actually friends.” You started your car and made your way to the main road.

“Are any of your other friends in town yet?” He asked. You nodded your head.

“Becca and Parker flew in this morning, and Han drives up tomorrow. Everyone else still lives here,” you said as you continued to focus on the road, begging yourself not to fall asleep.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” he said with excitement in his voice. You glanced over at him and smiled. He really was genuinely excited to meet your friends. You felt your heart speed up as you kept glancing back at him as he scrolled through his phone. You shoved the feeling to the pit of your stomach and tried to forget it.

The feeling crept back up and was rather persistent no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. You looked over at him once more and admired the way he looked in the moonlight. You were screwed.

vi. as definitely more than friends

You didn’t plan on actually getting drunk. In fact, you promised yourself you’d have one drink, but five or six drinks later, and you definitely abandoned that promise.

Shawn’s album release party was in full swing. The room was packed with important people, family, and friends. His fourth album was going to be a huge success. Even in your current state, you still knew that.

You swayed to the music as you talked to Shawn’s sister and sipped at your drink. You could barely remember what she was saying as you watched Shawn talk to some executives from his label. He laughed at something one of them said. This crush definitely wasn’t going away, and it definitely didn’t get better when you had a few drinks in you. You downed the rest of your drink before excusing yourself to grab another.

“Hey,” a voice said behind you as you felt their hand rest on your lower back. You glanced and noticed it was Shawn as you half smiled at him.

“Hey, buddy,” you said a little too loud as you lightly pushed his chest. Shawn looked at you with a mixture of confusion and delight.

“What happened to one drink?”

“That was out the window within the first five minutes of being here,” you said as you sipped at your newest drink, missing the straw the first time.

“Pace yourself, hun,” he said as he ordered a beer.

“I am perfectly fine,” you slurred as you smiled up at him. “You’re so pretty,” you said like it was the first time you noticed it.

You didn’t notice the blush creep on his cheeks as he grabbed his drink and looked down.

“So are you, [Y/N].”

“But not as pretty as you. Look at that hair, those arms, that smile, no wonder everyone’s in love with you,” you said as you pushed a hand through his hair. He laughed and backed away from you a little bit.

“Maybe switch to water after this drink,” he said as you stumbled into him a little bit.

“We’ll see,” you taunted. That was the last thing you remembered. You definitely didn’t switch to water.

You woke up with a pounding headache and groaned at the sunlight peeking in from the window. You glanced at the table, and there sat a glass of water and some Advil. It was then that you realized you were definitely at Shawn’s house. You took the medication and slowly pulled yourself out of bed, slipping on the nearest sweatshirt. 

You trudged down the stairs to go and find Shawn. He sat at the island in his kitchen with his laptop, probably reading album reviews as they started to pour in. He glanced up when he heard you. He smirked slightly as he took a sip of his coffee.

“You look like you got hit by a bus,” he said. You glared at him as you poured yourself a cup of coffee and sat next to him, looking over his shoulder to confirm he was reading reviews.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He said as he glanced over at you. You thought for a moment and laughed at the irony.

“You telling me to switch to water. I didn’t listen,” you said as you hung your head.

“That’s it?” You expected Shawn to taunt you, but instead, he just sounded disappointed.

“Yeah, why?” You asked. He shook his head and looked back at his laptop. “What’d I do last night?” You questioned.

“It’s not that important,” he said, still not looking at you.

“Apparently it is because you won’t look at me,” you said as he finally looked over at you, this time turning his chair to face you head-on.

“Do you have feelings for me?” If your head was pounding before, now your whole body was feeling it. This is why you weren’t supposed to drink.

“Why would you think that?” You said as your throat dried up, and you quickly took a drink of your coffee.

“That’s what you told Brian last night around drink eight,” he said quietly. You nodded your head slowly as you thought about how you should handle this.

“What do you want my answer to be?” You finally whispered. You looked each other in the eyes as you both breathed heavily, waiting for someone to speak.

“I want it to be true,” Shawn finally whispered. “I want you to have feelings for me.” He held his gaze steady with yours. You released the breath you were holding as you smiled slightly at him.

“Then, yeah. I do,” you confessed.

The album reviews were long forgotten as Shawn leaned in to kiss you.

vii. in love

You could feel Shawn’s leg shaking against yours. You pressed your hand against his leg as you tried to make it stop. He grabbed your hand and let out a deep breath as the car pulled up in front of the theater.

It was the first award show that Shawn’s fourth album was nominated for something. To say the least, he was freaking out. He poured his everything into this album, and as much as he said he didn’t need awards, he still really wanted them.

Neither of you moved as the car stopped. You turned to face Shawn and grabbed both his hands, forcing him to look at you. He finally made eye contact with you, and you could see the panic in his eyes.

“You gotta breathe, honey,” you said quietly. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath in before letting it out slowly.

“I’m so damn nervous,” he finally said. You nodded your head and ran your thumb across his hand.

“I know, but there’s nothing else you can do at this point. You wrote a kick-ass album that deserves endless awards in my book, but beyond that, the rest of this is out of your control. You’ve just gotta trust what’s meant to happen will happen,” you explained to him as he looked at you with a blank expression.

“You only think it should win because you’re my girlfriend, and there are four songs about you on it,” he said as he finally smiled. You smiled back at him and laughed.

“Yes, that may be partially true, but even when I didn’t know they were about me, I still thought it was amazing. Even before we were dating, I knew this album was going to make an impact. Even if it doesn’t win, you can be comfortable knowing that it made an impact on countless people, me being one of them, of course,” you finished your speech of encouragement as Shawn started looking more relaxed.

“I love you.” The world seemed to stop after he said that. He looked at you, and you could see the panic setting back in as he waited for your response.

“I love you so damn much,” you said through a quiet laugh. He held your face in his hand before pressing a longing kiss to your lips. You pulled away before either of you could let it get too far.

“Are you ready?” He nodded his head and finally opened his door.

“Let’s go win some awards, my love.”

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[broadwaycutie16]

Jerk in Sheep’s Clothing Chapter 1

Marinette's feet felt as heavy as stone as she trudged up the sidewalk towards the school. A month ago, her feet felt light and airy whenever she started walking to her first class. She used to look forward to girl talk with Alya and the others, mooning over Adrien, and what other wonderful surprises the day had in store for her. But ever since Lila had returned to school and gotten the class under her spell, Marinette never knew whether she would spin another tale and make everyone mad at Mari.

It was taking all of Marinette's strength to keep things as calm and neutral between her and her friends as possible. She had been trying desperately to relieve some of the tension with only some success. But no matter how tense things were between them, they were still her friends.

Besides, Marinette could not blame them entirely for believing Lila's wild tales. As much as she hated to admit it, the Rossi girl had had a valid point—people believe what they wanted to believe. After all, Marinette had only seen through her lies because of her most infamous fibs of being besties with Ladybug—who was secretly Marinette. If Lila had not unknowingly lied about Mari, would the pigtailed girl have been onto her in the first place?

At first, she had been upset at Adrien for not helping her expose Lila. But soon, she remembered Gabriel, and how he had raised his son to obey without protest, to always been seen and not heard. Marinette could not blame Adrien for following his upbringing, no matter how abusive it was. Victims of those things applied that knowledge to everyone they came in contact with.

As such, Marinette knew that all she could do was hold on and hope, hope, hope with all her heart that sooner or later, the class would see through Lila's ridiculous stories. Because that's what friends did, even if things had been rather one-sided lately. She believed in them. Amd nothing could deter her from that belief.

In her deep trance of thoughts and fears of what drama the day might bring, Marinette did not notice a rock in her path, not until it was too late. The next thing she knew, she was jerked from her train of thought and went stumbling forward. She shut her eyes tight, preparing to feel the hard slap of concrete against her face. But it never came.

It was only moments later that she felt two strong hands on her arms, holding her up. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see a handsome face. The features were chiseled, coated in smooth, tan skin. The eyes were a rich cocoa brown, matching the color of his smooth, shiny hair, slicked back into a feathered style. The half-smile he wore on his face, showing his pearly white teeth, would make any girl swoon.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice deep and charming. "I know we just just met, but no need to fall for me."

Marinette laughed, half at the joke and half at their awkward meeting, as she pulled herself to an upright standing position. "Sorry about that.", she said, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear nervously.

The boy waved it off. "No problem. I'm flattered. Its not everyday that I literally bump into a pretty girl."

That made Marinette's face turn red as her Ladybug costume. They had only just met less than a minute ago, and he had already made a pass at her, and called her pretty. And she thought Chat Noir was forward.

The boy thrust his hand out towards her. "Henri LeRoi."

She smiled and shook his hand. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

His brown eyes grew wide.  "Marinette...lovely name.  Just rolls off the tongue."

He said it again, slower and softer this time.  "Marinette...its beautiful.  But hey...I can't expect less from a beautiful girl."

Now her awkwardness factor had been pumped up to eleven. She looked away, fiddling with her pigtails. She had just been promoted from pretty to beautiful in a matter of seconds. This boy definitely knew how to make a girl blush, as proven by the dark crimson color the skin on her face had taken on.

"So...I better get to Francois Dupont..."

Henri smile brightened. "What a coincidence! I'm starting there today!"

She looked back, matching his grin. "Really? That's great! That means we'll be seeing more of each other!"

"Might I be so bold as to escort you onto the premises?", he asked, in a teasing tone.

Marinette giggled at his hoity play accent and replied, "T'would be my honor, Mousier LeRoi."

And with that, they linked arms and went marching into the school. Marinette's heart suddenly felt much lighter than it had in weeks. --------------- Lila Rossi finished gathering her things from her locker when she noticed Marinette enter the room. Lila always had a sixth sense for when her foe walked in. But the thing that really caught her attention was that the rival was on the arm of a really good-looking dude. He was tall and muscular and dressed fashionably, and he and Marinette were laughing, like they had known each other forever.

"Seriously? You're in Madame Bustier's class, too?"

"It'll be so great to have you there! I'll save you a seat, kay?"

The new boy smiled at her charmingly. "Kay. See ya in class, cutie."

And he winked and shot her finger guns. Imagine Lila's surprise when Marinette giggled as she skipped off to class. Oh, no. She wasn't going to let Marinette have that boy as a friend or anything else. She didn't get that. Time for another play of the victim card.

Once she was certain Marinette was gone, she snuck up next to the boy and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, and Lila put on her best pitiful face.

"Hey...I saw you talking to Marinette. I know she might seem nice, but there's something you should know about her..."

To her surprise, Henri didn't let her get another word in. "Save it. I know about you, Lila. Marinette told me all about you. How you're lying to everyone, trying to turn them all against her."

Lila fumed. The class had listened to her stories. Why wasn't this boy?

"Whatever she's said about me, its not true! She's the one bullying me! She hates me for no good reason! She's just jealous that I've done all these awesome things, meeting princes and rockstars and seeing the world for the past year, and she's just a dumb baker girl!"

Henri raised his eyebrows. "Really? You traveled the world? Because last I checked, your mom hasn’t left Paris in a year."

Lila's face paled. How had he known that? "How...How did you..."

"I looked you up on social media when Marinette mentioned you.", he said, stroking his chiseled chin with a devious smirk. "Didn't find any profiles matching you, but I did find your mom’s official webpage on the site for the embassy she works at. I know its her because she mentioned you were her daughter and posted the occasional childhood photograph of you on the family tab. But the embassy rules on the website clearly state that the members aren’t allowed to take their kids with them on foreign missions. I wonder...if she didn’t take you, where have you really been all that time? Maybe I should go to the address on her profile and ask her. Tell to check in with the school, just to be safe..."

Never, in all her weeks of careful planning and manipulations, had Lila been so terrified. This new boy saw through her ruse. What's more, he held the keys to her demise. This was something that she had been dreading since she returned to school, yet had hoped and prayed would never happen. Her whole world was threatening to crumble right before her very eyes.

But before she lie her way out of her situation, or at the very least, get on her knees and beg him not to follow through on his threats, promising him anything under the sun if he only kept her secrets, the new boy surprised her by simply saying, "But instead, I'll make you a little bargain."

Lila blinked twice, confused with this sudden and unexpected turn of events. "Pardon?"

The new guy folded his arms over his chest, leaning in towards her, speaking softly so their conversation would not be overheard by unwelcome. "Here's the deal...you keep playing that little game of yours, and I'll keep my mouth shut. What's more, I'll steer her clear of her friends...especially that Adrien guy."

Lila blinked again. A minute ago, this guy had been threatening to expose her to the world. Now, not only was he promising to keep silent for her, he was offering to keep Marinette away from her friends, leaving them all to herself. Lila's one eyebrow and suspicions rose. "What's the catch?"

”No catch.", he said. "Just keep doing what you're doing. This way, you can have your crowd of admirers without any interference...and I get Marinette all to myself. Everybody wins."

It all clicked in Lila's mind. So that was his angle. He figured that if all of Marinette's friends were against her, he would have no problems keeping her all to himself, like a dragon hoarding treasure. Of course, when someone offers to not only keep your darkest secrets, but also help you carry on your charade of being special, you don't pass it up. A part of Lila was disappointed that she had failed to turn the boy against Marinette, but she figured it was a worthy sacrifice if it meant no more pigtail girl trying to expose her.

So, she smiled wickedly and said, "Deal." And they shook on it before parting ways. ---------------- Adrien walked into the classroom, double-checking that all of his school supplies were in order, when he looked up and saw Lila sitting in Nino's seat. Nino and Alya followed in after, seeing what their friend saw.

"Oh, is your tinnitus acting up again?", asked Alya.

Lila nodded. "Sadly, yes. But don't worry about Marinette. She'll be just fine." She jerked her thumb behind her, and all three looked towards the back row.

There was Marinette, sitting there, only she did not see any of them. She was too engrossed in a conversation with a boy that they did not recognize, with dark hair and dark eyes and a smile on his face.

"His name's Henri. He just transferred here.", explained Lila. She eyed Adrien with a mean smile. "They look pretty cozy, don't they?"

Nino shrugged. "Well, long as she's got company, I guess it'd be okay for me to sit in her seat."

He and Alya went to sit in the second row without any protest, but Adrien stayed behind, staring at the sight before him. He wasn't sure why, but his inner alarm bells were ringing when he looked at the new guy. There was something about him that sent his Chat Noir super senses tingling.

Marinette looked into her backpack for something, and that's when Henri noticed Adrien's stare on them. Their eyes met across the room, and that's when it happened. Henri's brown eyes narrowed, and he sent a nasty smirk Adrien's way, one that made the model boy's blood turn to ice in his veins. Then, the moment right before Marinette turned back, Henri was back to his former, cheerful, non-threatening self, chatting happily with her.

All of the sudden, Adrien felt sick, his head spinning, his stomach churning, his heartbeat ceasing fir a few seconds before it started beating a hundred times a minute. He didn't know what had just happened or why, but he had an awful feelings that things would never be the same again.

[maeve-moon]

maeve moon ~

( im yoona, cis female, she / her) i took a trip into town and ran into MAEVE MOON at the general store. isn’t that the NOMAD you told me about last week? the one who is 28, as well as ADAPTIVE and PERSEVERING? well, we didn’t chat for long because they had to get back to their job as the LIBRARIAN, so i can’t say for sure, but i think you might be onto something…they even mentioned they want to DISCOVER WHO SHE TRULY WAS AND SETTLE DOWN like you said. + faye, 20, she / her, gmt + 8

Maeve Mae-Goo Moon was born in Ireland to her Korean immigrant parents. As a kid, their family would take trips back to South Korea every year or so and visit their relatives. She was always at the end of veiled ridicule from her cousins because she wasn’t “Korean” enough.  Even if she only stumbled her way through basic Korean, she still made it a point to be in good graces with her extended family.  Despite that, she would always be excited when they’d take a trip to her grandparents' little cottage in Buan-gun to spend a few days on their farm. She remembers how she’d bring a book to their porch and read while her grandpa would make jam from whatever fruit grew that season.

Mae Goo started using only her English name, “Maeve”, when she transferred for secondary school. She was getting tired of people asking her to say her name over and over again because it was “different” from all of theirs.She once had a project where she had to present about her heritage and culture. Again, she felt like at a crossroads. Would people judge her if she talked about being Irish but looked otherwise? Would people question her being Korean if she’s only been there for vacations? Was she Irish enough? Was she Korean enough? She decided to just combine the two as it proved the best decision. Her friends - to her shock - loved her presentation and regaled her with questions about the marriage of these two cultures in her life. While she loved answering them, that whole project just left another gnawing void of unanswered questions within her. 

When Maeve found out that her application and scholarship to a university in Switzerland was approved, she was elated. She thought that maybe moving out of her comfort zone would finally provide some answers. While in Geneva, she found a new sense of self in fields of flowers that seemed to stretch on for miles. She found it when she was awake until 2AM typing out the words for her essay due the next day. She found it punching out numbers in sync with whatever formulas were needed to complete her undergraduate thesis in finance. She found it when she received her diploma and felt like she could do anything if she put her mind to it. But all good things come to an end. The high she rode kept waning as the days passed. Her questions were still unanswered and she's reluctantly trying to make peace with the fact that maybe, they won’t ever be answered. 

A few months have passed and Maeve figured it was time to get a job. She applied to a few companies in Galway and surprisingly heard back from most of them. Her parents were a little concerned that she wasn’t accepting any of these offers. What Maeve didn’t tell them was that she was waiting on a reply for an internship that would - yet again - take her to a new country. Maybe another new beginning would kick start the spark she so desperately needed. A week passed, then another, and she was this close to accepting the fact that she’s going to tell the bank a few blocks from her home that she’d accept their job offer when the email popped in her inbox. She got accepted for the internship. 

Her internship was all that she wished for. She made new friends, went on a few dates, volunteered at the local animal shelter, and read more books. She eventually began feeling comfortable in her own skin. She got hired midway through her internship. She had fun at her job (financial analyst for an advertising company) until waking up on the weekdays felt like a chore. While she was doing her best, she rarely received a promotion. After working there for almost five years, she decided it was time to quit. 

Maeve was scared - terrified, honestly - of starting anew. Her “new beginnings” didn’t always give her the satisfaction she longed for. She’s read countless books about epic detours and how the main character would just let life be - without any expectations, without any boundaries. Maybe she needed her own epic detour. She found the opportunity in a flyer about this small town holding a festival that had long since passed. It was a 5 hour train ride from where she lived and had a job opening at the library. Long story short, she packed up her bags and moved into her new cozy apartment in Pelican Town. Now, her only worries include recommending the right books to people and trying to keep her vegetable patch alive. It’s been slow progress, but she can slowly feel herself starting to belong in this small town. The fear of not being able to settle down is still there but it’s been quiet these past few months. The questions she’s had about herself haven’t totally stopped. However, she feels like she might find some answers while she’s here.  

Some headcanons:

Maeve loves to read! She has a wall full of books in her apartment and is quite generous in lending them to her friends in town. 

She’s been trying to plant some vegetables in her little backyard but cannot, for the life of her, grow anything.

She loves to cook and is now learning to incorporate the local produce into her Korean dishes. But she cannot bake at all. Her muffin mix exploded in the oven and she’s sworn it off since.

Maeve has mild scoliosis so she’s often walk around with her shoulders hunched. Don’t tell her, she’ll bite you

She loves giving people food!! Come by and she’ll reheat whatever you want and give you some snacks to go.

Maeve grew up dancing (hip hop, contemporary, jazz)! If you pass by her apartment, you could probably see her busting some moves to the latest hit song.

Wanted connections

Bookish best friend

Someone who’ll teach her gardening / baking

A wingman / wingwoman give this little lady some action

A “bad” influence get this little lady out on a few drinks, maybe go skinny dipping

A neighbor! they can be friends? hang out? find each other annoying?