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Up To Snuff

Faces of Death (2026)

Arthur Spevak x (F!)Reader

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

After starting work at Signaler Wireless you develop a crush on your nerdy and timid boss.

Meanwhile, you're just the inspiration Arthur's been looking for..

<<🎶 Added for fun tone tags and a riff on opening/closing credit rolls. First of three chapters- will fix formatting later, so sorry!>>

.

.

“Man, I'm begging- please? I know, I know I'm not a model employee but I've had the hots for this girl for ages. She said she moved here because I made it sound fun- and, I could be the total hero if I get her a job. You'd be doing me a solid- and she's not some ditz, I swear.”

Arthur knew all the details already- because on top of being the worst employee at the store, one mistake away from being canned, the idiot was completely oblivious. It wasn’t even like he had to try to read all the texts over the guy's shoulder, and it certainly helped pass the time in the empty store. It was more fun than hearing about whatever shitty restaurant review he thought people cared about, sure that his channel ‘WorthYourBuck’ was going to be the next viral feel good phenom since he supported exclusively ‘mom and pop’ places.

Not one to give up the sick satisfaction from someone groveling- and over something so mundane intrigued him enough that Arthur was already going to say yes anyway.

Still.. leveraging as much as he can with a “I don’t know, Buck.. What’s in it for me?”

--

“Told you this job was sweet. It’s a small price to pay to help one or two grandmas learn how to use face ID for the all the free time you get paid for-”

“As long as you don’t mind running a register, there’s jobs like that out there. The real selling point is your boss doesn't seem like another egomaniac middle-manager on a power-trip..”

“Our boss now, remember? You're welcome- aand you can thank me by saying yes to a date. Finally. I know exactly the place-”

“Thank you by agreeing to a date? Where you drive and pay? So.. explain to me exactly what I’m thanking you with - I’ll wait…”

“Friday? Come on, I have to pay, your first day isn’t until next week - Saturday?”

“I’m busy - all weekend.”

--

“Well, do you take it back? Remember when you said he wasn’t an asshole?”

“He’s not- you’re just an idiot. Don’t you know how to count?! One, two, three-”

“Ugh, you jumping on that grenade is the only reason he didn’t fire my ass. Maybe I’m crazy but I think he likes you..”

“I’m likeable- sue me.”

“You don’t… you don’t think he’s a total creeper? Last girl that worked here quit because she said Arthur gave bad vibes. Swore he followed her home once--”

“Oh my god- or are you jealous? You really would say anything..”

-- Tag, You're It - Melanie Martinez 🎶

It had been the start of the end for the Hopeless Romeo the night that Arthur had scheduled the three of you for the ‘End of Month’ inventory count, mostly planning to listen in like he always did. You had been putting up a barrier all night, not even pity laughing at the terrible jokes while clinging to him like a liferaft. It wasn’t because you liked Arthur, he figured, more to be away from the asshole that hadn’t figured it out - rather, refused to accept it, but he’d appreciated you lingering at his side all the same.

“Alright, you two-” Arthur addressing his team in that chipper cadence of a go-getter. “Good job. We're out of here in record time. Go ahead and take off, I’ll finish these up.”

Snatching back your clipboard before he could fully remove it from your arms, you’re avoiding the expectant stare looming from the doorway as you lean in, your own kind of pleading gaze leveled up at Arthur. “Could I stay to see how to do the rest of the reports?”

He knows you’re getting out of a ride from hell, but can’t help but dangle the carrot, absently pushing his glasses up his nose as he matches the angle of your lean. “You know, you can’t get promoted until you’ve worked here for six months.”

“Saying I’m not gonna make it six months? You really that big of an asshole?” There’s a teasing lilt that had become so come easy. “Will you at least give me a glowing recommendation?”

“From a wireless store?” As masterfully layered all his interactions have become, he chuckles through the song and dance, agreeing to let you stay.

The moment there was the ding! of the bell over the door that meant you two were alone, you’re groaning out a thanks. But then you surprise him, “If that jackass lost count and had to start over one more time- I was going to suffocate him in that plastic cling stuff, I swear to god..”

It was fair to say you shared a certain morbid sense of humor.

“He, uh, bugging you? When I was making the schedules.. See, I just figured you would want to work with him, your friend. Eh- especially when you’re in a new city.. a-and don’t know anybody..” The words are measured to be anxious and disarming, as calculated as the click of the keyboard keys, drawing it out.

“On purpose? Oh- please, god no.” You tap his arm and lean back in the wheely chair, feet up on the desk as you definitely didn't watch the screen to learn reports. “If anything, schedule me opposite if you can - I’ll do any shift. I'll even wake up early every day and I fucking hate waking up early.” You begin wheeling a loop around the office before leaning back in over his shoulder to squint at the second monitor and the camera systems to see if Buck had taken the hint or was still lingering in the back lot.

Really putting on a show of tapping the pencil on the desk and scratching his head after scanning the schedules, “You know- uh, shoot.. At the end of the spring semester we always lose half the team. Lotta college kids ‘round here. You.. really wouldn't mind being stuck with me?”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that? I’m sure you were trying to avoid the newbie-”

“Aww, c'mon, you're not so bad..”

Arthur smirks a wolf's grin for himself as he flips back and forth between weeks, glancing sideways at the big calendar tacked to the wall. The gears were already turning. There was another plastic creak as he sat back now too, absently gnawing down on the yellow pencil as the brassy tone of the old reel played in his head: ‘A public execution to deter criminals--’

Though he'd say he's ‘dabbled in filmmaking’ before, this was a project he had been planning for some time. Taking up space in his head, and in his house, waiting for the moment, waiting for a spark- for inspiration.

“Woah- you're a biter? Stay away, monster-” crossing a finger with your nice pencil to form a cross for only a second before doing the appraising head-tilt thing, adding a last few shading lines where you noticed it needed them. The sticky note turned art installation is smoothed down with a thumb on the corner of the office monitor. A stylized, if grim, doodle for ‘What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger’ with a skeleton sporting a dagger out of the eyesocket giving a hopeful thumbs-up.

“If you report me to HR I'm going to say it's just a motivational poster..”

“Say-” An amused chuff accompanied by the shuffling of papers he throws aside as a clear sign that it's tomorrow's problem. “You need a ride? I heard you walk home sometimes- In this part of town? Pretty girl like you? Oh- it’s a terrible thought but- hurts my heart just thinkin’ about it--” resting a palm across his chest like it really did ache.

“Artie-” you interrupt with a light shove to his arm, “You sound like my mom. There are not serial killers around every corner- Although.. I have been shocked to find out that ‘Florida Guy’ is a one-hundred percent, very real phenomenon...”

“Oh, very real..” In on the joke that he’s one too, you two share a laugh and a smile that you somehow miss the true intention behind.

Only a short trip down the road in his very nice luxury car before you're thumbing at the run-down apartment building. “Well, this is me.” Arhur had already been slowing, because it's only the ‘first’ time he's been here - with you. “Thanks again, you're a real lifesaver..”

“Oh, don't mention it,” he dismisses with a coy wave, leaning over from the driver's seat to hold onto the eye contact as long as possible while you slip out onto the sidewalk. “First of many, I'm sure- Now, I mean it, don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything..”

Clucking your tongue before miming the laying a hand across your chest motion he had done back in the office. “Aww - Can't spell sweetheart, without Art.” You'd thrummed your hand on the frame before closing the door, waving as you walked off and calling a singsong goodnight.

Not even circling the block he flips into the lot of a closed business, a few minutes of patience as he's rewarded for it, noting the window that flicks to life with lamplight.

---

It was funny that at one point you actually thought he was trying to avoid you? Avoid detection maybe.

When he’d left after his day shift, one of your last on the schedule where you stuck with your ball and chain, the soon-to-be late Mr Buck Shaw. You caught Arthur’s eye on his way out the door, as Buck muttered an irritated good riddance to the boss, you mimed doing the Psycho stab with a ball point pen to his back before mouthing ‘Save Me’ - Neither of which was part of his plans but it had kept the smile on his face until he caught you coming around the corner, pulling the brim of the ball cap further down over his face as he slid down in the seat. His silver Cadillac parked inconspicuously in a line of other vehicles and taking up the shoulder along the industrial stretch where you insisted saved you fifteen whole minutes cutting through it instead of sticking to the main roads.

“Girl, seriously? You're relentless! No, no way! I already felt like a total stalker sneaking pictures-”

Zero situational awareness as you walk and talk, you don't even look both ways as you stroll right across the side street. The whole place looks deserted in those old orange-shifted buzzing street lights, but obviously it wasn't. Too busy catching up with your now long-distance best friend.

“You can totally see his face. It's called zoom - ever heard of it? Or take my word for it, damn! I'm not saying- No. No, I'm not.”

The heavily tinted windows were cracked just enough to let in your voice. Loud in the still night air, spilling right in.

“Yeah, like I said- He’s kinda got this whole Clark Kent quiet nerd thing. Oh, he’s definitely not a virgin. No way. I get a real freak in the sheets vibe..” Words clear as your footfalls take you right past him.

Oh, he wasn’t and .. oh, you had no idea.

“Hah! Get out of here with that corruption kink bullshit. If he was.. yeah, I’d take good care of him. God! Why’d you have to even say anything - Now I want him to be just so I can pop his cherry. He looks like he fucks like he's desperate for it-”

Well, he had liked what he'd been hearing until that little fucking tidbit, angrily pinching the bridge of his nose and seething a breath as you continued past some old strip mall storefront before taking the next corner. He had planned on popping out and trailing behind you, but he bided his time as the conversation drifted into the distance.

“Uh? Have to guess? I'm saying ..curved. Yeah- the G-finder,” the conversation pausing for a cackle. “Yes I saw the one you sent. That your new guy? No! I don’t want more unsolicited dick pics from anybody, and that includes you! Why do you think I deleted all that shit?”

Though that had been a bonus, not the reason.

“Well, doesn't matter how it looks.. can he use it?”

Arthur waited to start the engine and peeling out with a sharp u-turn once you were down the block.

---

The next shift you two worked together, a couple days later, you had come in with a much more intricate makeup look than he’d ever seen on you - and you were sitting there kicking your legs at a stool crammed next to him at the raised desk. Phone buzzing urgently against the surface before you picked it up, and tipping it his way as some kind of proof that “Ugh, my bestie keeps bugging me - I sent her a morning mirror selfie and she has been shittalking my look all day saying it’s going to be destroyed before five..”

“Mmh?” It’s barely an acknowledgement as he flicks to the next video, then quickly past two more.

“Well, see - I guess I’m rusty, not that I ever was one of those selfie girls anyway, so like-”

He sighs, letting a video loop as he glances over to ask. “What? Want me to take a picture of you?”

There was kind of a bored harshness in his voice that was unusual, and all day you'd been getting the ‘woke up on the wrong side of the bed’ bad juju from him and it had messed up your whole plan with the tense atmosphere, having to scheme up a way to placate your very insistent friend.

“Actually.. I was wondering if you would-” You were trying to butter him up, and you had landed on exactly the perfect amount of vulnerability in your stare and supplication in your voice. “Take one with me?” Pulling it back so quickly it feels like one of those tablecloth tricks and he can't help but want more as you shrug dismissively. “I don’t know, kind of help take the pressure off.”

There is a shift that comes with the double eyebrow raise, you can even hear it in the way he explains, that shy nervousness rounding the edges of any harshness of an hour ago. “Oh, I don’t really do pictures either-”

“I wouldn't post it or anything! Promise! Here, see-” Swiping through your apps, you're showing how you don’t even have any of the big culprits - He's all too eager to lean in to actually pry, but he does it in the goofy good-humor that has become the go to repertoire with you, making you giggle and bump shoulders when he over-exaggerates the dubious stare of judgement.

“All shitty mobile games and stuff. I'm an anomaly with grandma hobbies and books. I swear.”

Really acting like you were twisting his arm, he gives in, but is quickly giving direction, even if it still comes out almost timidly. “Don’t do that duck lip thing, you’re too pretty.”

Smiling from the easy laughing, joking as you tried a few shots. “Sorry Dr Rolland, I never did wear my retainer.”

It wasn’t the only correction Arthur had made, getting the two of you posed and framed just so, it had ended up on a silly side after he’d played devil’s advocate that you were mad at your friend right? Ultimately deciding on you scowling and flipping off the camera, and he’s sporting a sheepishly wry soft smile and giving you bunny ears. “Oh, see,” giggling as you type up the message and send it off, “That’s cute.”

“Hey, send that to me too, would ya?” He urges, pointing with his own phone as he picks it back up and unlocks it. “Might as well set it as your contact-”

“Not the one where I’m flipping off the camera, no way. I am not some fucking edgelord.”

It falls into light bickering, choosing which image to use. Arthur is pointing at your screen, saying “Well, then.. That one. Otherwise I’m using the other- even though I know it’s not work appropriate,” he whispers it like you aren't the only ones in the building. “But no other co-worker ever asked to take a selfie with me before.”

“Really? This one, where you were moving- you’re like, totally Picasso.” Part blur, you do a slight pinch to enlarge where his eye is looming over your shoulder while he was caught leaning back in a stretch behind you.

“It’s kinda arthouse.. I like it..”

Shaking your head and giving a ‘if you say so’ roll of your eyes, smirking in delight the whole while as you pull up the Bossman📡 contact to send something other than updates about the bus running late, or requesting days off, or that one time you got food poisoning.. And he scoffs, hurt, next to you. Showing his contact for you and asking “What’s wrong with using someone’s name? It shows respect.”

“No.. If I have you as ‘Arthur Spevak’ in my phone while everyone else is ridiculous shit,” you'd backed out of the message to give a cursory up and down of your contact list to show there wasn't a single normal name on it. “They're going to think you’re a Fed - Then they’ll see you, and know you are with those adorkable frames.”

He laughs, pushing the mild-mannered glasses back into place afterward. You were really going to do him in with that, crinkling your nose so cutely- and of course dorky had been exactly the look he'd been going for so it stokes the fuel of his ego rather than feeling like any kind of insult. Then he as to downright bite his lip to hold in the noise as your friend suddenly sends a barrage:

FUCK HIM IMMEDIATELY

HES JUST YOUR TYPE ASNKJDNGKS

Then a notification as she sends it to the group chat with BARKBARKBARKBARK

Which is why you hadn’t noticed any bit of his body language as you make your own muffled noise, yours is pure panic while shifting to keep a poker player’s ‘close to the chest’ hand and steely face as your thumbs furiously typed a reply.

BITCH HE SAW THATAKJGDNK

The whole saved as a contact thing had been rehashed later, where his polite name usage and your Bossman remained in a boring chat about bus delays and customer incidents - with a new number saved for Artie Mc🪰 in your phone. It was almost like you worked at a phone store so it wasn't that crazy to have a second line. You had insisted being saved under something goofy in his as fair trade, and when he ‘couldn’t think of anything’ you had suggested New🐝 - which he had teased was not the case anymore, therefore he had to choose something else, but insisting on keeping the pair of bugs, he settled on Honey🐝 turning it around for your inspection.

“You.. don’t have a girlfriend? Don’t want you getting in trouble over lil ole me..” As if the whole thing didn’t stink to high heaven already. Not to mention the bigger worry here was how the boss-employee lines that had long since blurred while alone, were now all mixed up while you were on the clock.

“Me? Oh.. no. N-not me.” Which was the first of many comments he planted, but it wasn’t sewing seeds for a garden - more like a bonsai with utmost care poured into one subject, mindfully pruned and watered.

---

Everyone called him Arthur, he made a point of it. Everyone, with the sole exception of you. He'd only accepted it initially that night, and then let it slide a few times before it grated his nerves enough that it sprung out of him all at once to correct you.

“Arthur. I-I don't like it shortened.” He licks his lips, and this time the anxiety isn't all feigned.

Your face pulls from the easy smile you tend to wear around him, into a worried grimace, retreating at the feeling of making one of the true friends you had here uncomfortable. That skin crawling feeling of not being wanted, like you always fucked everything up started to swallow you whole - so you focused more on the task he'd given you instead: clearing out all the inappropriate shit people do to the display phones.

Now he's not able to read those surface level emotions, he’s still been.. studying your mannerisms, and your moods. Learning them. Basking in them like sunsets.

“Oh.” Definitely a sad note weighing down the uttered sound. “I'm sorry, Arthur. Won't happen again.”

“I mean-” A gravel adding exaggeration to ease the blow. Crossing the store to be able to explain while he cards a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be fair- i-if only one person does, and I’d.. I’ll blow a fuse if one of the guys ever called me that.”

Dropping it after a terse nod that you understood.

--

For one agonizing week that’s what Arthur thought he wanted. The respect and control. But then each day he could swear he felt a bit more warmth melting out of your words, pulling away. Not that you seemed to have a smile for anyone today when Arthur showed up for his shift and you were glowering in a corner as you scribbled darkly while Buck prodded endless questions on a rainy weekday.

Buck was excited for a fresh victim, calling to Arthur as he walked past, “Hey, did you ever end up following me?”

Stopping with a swish of khakis as Arthur spins, hunching in to make sure he heard that right. “Hm?”

“Gotta see my new video, dude- It was good enough the city reached out to me to promote a food truck thing coming up..”

“Uh.. Maybe later..” As solidly polite and non-committal as his classic Arthur genteel smile.

“Whatever,” Buck sighs, hunching over dejected and ignored as he taps out of Kino and exclaims at the memory that pops up at the top load in as he changes apps. Smacking the counter before shaking his long hair out of his face, you’re being honed in on again. “That’s why you’re mad! Hah! I guess I knew it was a shitty ass month but I forgot about your exhibit-”

Arthur had already doubled back at the exclamation, but Buck makes it even easier, openly motioning with his phone and holding it out to share. “Wanna see what gets someone kicked out of art school- quite an infamous club to join.”

“Will you fuck off! Don’t show my boss pictures-” You had started across the room to intervene since Arthur was already craning to get a better look of the screen.

“Pictures? I have video of the blood spray--”

“Blood-spray?” Arthur is beaming, pulling the Buck’s phone out of his fingers now. “From our wilting flower? Why - a kid tripped and skinned his knee and that was all the more it took before she hit the floor. Gave me quite the scare.” He’d never met anyone who fainted at the sight of blood before.

Now you’re the one snatching it, stretching to play keep away from Buck though it’s Arthur standing there with the vacant palm where the phone had been moments before. He didn’t get a good look, but he had a new piece to the puzzle.

“Because it wasn’t blood, it was oil - they were robots.”

“Arthur’s not gonna care- He already sees the fucked up shit you draw. You let him flip through your sketchbook.” Knowing he wasn't getting anywhere with this, he decides to go full on torment your crush the way schoolboys pull hair, by being cruel with words alone as Buck turned to the audience of one. “That piece was a tribute to--” There is a heavy ka-thunk as you lob it into the trashcan, and he starts screaming. “Woah! What the fuck?!”

“No - I should be asking you that! You know--” The argument dies in your throat as a minivan parks in the closest spot to the front doors, that's not one giant puddle. Spinning on a heel before either guy could say anything or stop you, yelling an explanation vaguely into the air while throwing your arms up as well. “I never took my lunch break!”

As soon as Arthur had gotten your application he had meticulously poured through searches. A natural internet sleuth he found every tidbit and morsel he could about your life. You were one of those people that claimed to be off social media, and true to your word he had only been able to find inactive accounts. At least he could still scrape up the pictures. The last few posts were photo-dumps of you and the brother that had killed himself. Arthur had celebrated when he’d found the article put out as press for a book. A Best Seller about supporting your family through the mental health crisis post-pandemic, written by -of all people- your parents. He’d skipped the self-help mumbo jumbo but already had a heavily annotated copy of one of their previous books- the one where they left their tenured professor positions to join a cult and raise their kids. He’d love to know if they had secured the book deal before, or if they had truly done it for the love of the game.

That was how you knew Buck, whose parents had been more of the green movement hippie type. The way it had been creatively explained when the coworkers had asked how long you knew each other, calling it a ‘commune’ that you grew up in. Arthur had figured it was the only reason you tolerated him, the shared trauma, desperately clinging to a childhood friendship you’ve long outgrown. His armchair therapist opinion was the misplaced anger is the reason why Buck had been so viscously trapped in the friendzone. You kept him around but hated him for it.

And, even if cults and tell-all books weren’t exactly in the zeitgeist right now- that stuff never really goes out of fashion.

“Yo! You’re supposed to be the boss, isn’t that like harassment or something..” Buck dug an arm deep into the trash can as he felt for the lost device.

“Assault,” Arthur corrected in a huff. Harassment was a series of behaviours while snatching his phone would have been a simple assault, if it was anything at all.

“Are you going to-”

“Are you going to tell her that you’ve been getting ten times more views if you frame her tits in the shot?”

“I knew you watched my page!” Buck gloats. “Like how I've started filming her walking into each restaurant at the start of the video? Profile click-throughs are way up.”

It’s not that Arthur could always keep up the chipper act at work, god knows the job is miserable enough as it is, but the friendly nature that Arthur was synonymous with had been replaced by a stormy disposition. It'd already been slipping the second you'd blustered off but in that moment Buck felt it like a lightning strike.

Suddenly his phone doesn’t matter anymore as he bristles to stand to his full height, and about to fix his hair before he remembers he was elbow deep in trash. The guy he’d never thought of being a threat to anything more than his shitty job was suddenly throwing him for a loop with a downright predatory sharpness in his words and the way he stands. The gleam in his eye though? That one is familiar, that’s one that Arthur has the hardest time hiding and he knows Buck had caught him truly staring before..This confrontation was shadowboxing, but when he stared at you it was downright primal.

“Yeah, and your editing is shit. I’ve seen toddlers with better camerawork.” The banter could almost be friendly if it wasn’t dripping with derision.

“Look, if she’s not putting out, I have to make it ‘Worth my Buck’ somehow.. ”

A crazed burst almost takes over Arthur but nothing more than a single harsh bark of laughter makes it out. Buck mistakenly takes this as retreat, sensing that trepidation as Arthur reigns it in - ‘it’ being the unfortunate path Buck has now chosen on this create-your-own-adventure. Flicking a nod towards the front door and the frantic mom that had only now finished wrestling two leashed children out of carseats Buck is the one bossing Arthur around with a dismissive, “You got this one, right?” Already diving in past the elbow as he could feel the jittery withdrawals of being away from his screen.

--

More pushing your food around than actually eating it, you were watching the minutes tick by while existing in a state of limbo where you felt more ghost than human. You're hunched over an easily replayed cozy crafting video with an outwardly stoney silent treatment.

Arthur joins you at the table, saying something as he scoots in the chair. Removing an earbud to catch, “-takes a lot to make something like that happen.”

“Sorry- say again? I was-” The device pinched in your fingers as you dropped it back into the charging case.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Arthur holds up his hands with a self-depricating chuckle as he quickly begins to stand back up. “No one needs the boss bugging them when they're on break.”

Nearly cutting out the world again, but mumbling at the last second before you disappear into yourself. Explaining with a half-hearted wave towards the front. “ I'm sorry for..” - ‘making a scene’ is the rest but you let the words hang open ended.

“Nothing to apologize about.”

The easy smile is like a breath of fresh air and it feels wrong to not try your best to force one in return. There is something tender in the moment of your brave smile faltering the second your eyes meet, and something about this time in particular after hours and hours together - quantifiably stamped on federal documents- feels like it’s the first true time it happened somehow. A vulnerability of being seen, really seen, that makes you crumble in an instant. Sudden unbidden tears bubble out of your eyes, one streaming like a trailing gasoline fire off the silver screen down each cheek faster than you can slap your hands over your face and curse, “Shit! If this couldn't get any more embarrassing..”

Arthur folds in with faux concern and real greed. “Oh, gosh- Did I do something wrong? I shouldn't have looked. You even said-” A self critical hiss of breath and shake of his head. “I'm sorry, I'd never want to make you cry..” Hurriedly pulling out tissues from the box in the middle of the table to hand you, and he turns his head to hide the flash of enraptured delight. You sure were pretty when you cried.

“It's not your fault-” voice a high pitched whine as you fought off the tears and the swell of everything you'd been holding in.

After an extremely awkward pat on the shoulder while you blubbered, he tries for a cheesy line that works like a charm. “I may not know much about what's going on, or whatever art school he’s talking about- but if it counts for anything, this Art thinks you're pretty great.”

The growing spread of realization dawns on you with a sniffle. “Did you.. just call yourself Art?” you ask, while dabbing the edge of an eye.

He shrugs. “Maybe- if it's just the two of us- Art could be okay..”

The tears had already been drying up at the distraction, clawing them deep back within you, but now you're doing one of those half laugh - half sob things before pulling yourself together to nod.

“I would still prefer Arthur though..”

“Wait,” you pause like you'd obeyed your own command, taking a rattling inhale like drawing the tide, desperately trying to steady yourself before finishing the question. “Wanna hear my perfect joke?”

“Perfect?” Arthur wished he'd gotten your perfect pout on camera because- sweet mercy, there was even a quiver to your lips- and while he would take the security footage he already knew it wouldn't compare.

He usually teases you about those literal idiosyncrasies- like using ‘literal’ for anything but- so you roll your eyes, giving your own teasing quip but in a luring drawl that's only a little shaky. “It'll change your mind..”

Arthur didn't know what he was expecting but he figured it was going to be a doozy when you avoided looking at him like the sun and absently kept folding and refolding the tissue with anxious fingertips.

“If you're single- does that make you a Bachelor of Fine Art?”

Flabbergasted but delighted, it's a rare moment that he's not choosing exactly how much to smile at you. He can't help it, now beaming like he is the sun at the praise. He sports a smug toothy grin while leaning in like he might even catch the words midair akin to a hand-blown kiss. About to ask you to repeat it, pretending for the whole ‘did I hear that right?’ while of course simply needing to hear it again- but then you ruin the moment with the metallic clunk of your energy drink set in the space between you.

“Here, this is for you-” You're holding in a snicker as he slides from debonair to befuddled looking down at the open can. You were only using it as a prop, already knowing Arthur didn't share food on principle.

“I don't want--”

“It's Art Appreciation.”

The punchline coming out rushed because you're too excited to say it, and then bursting into a cackle at your own joke, moreso when you get a disappointed, or rather a ‘should I be concerned at your wild swing in mood?’, glance from Arthur. He does chuckle though, almost relieved as you promise “It'd be better if I had an actual gift. Next time there's a ‘Manager's Day’ or something. Promise.”

“Next time you need a day off, you mean?” he prods with words and a wry grin.

Not that you planned to take advantage of his good will, especially not the ways the guys - the other coworkers did. You hoped he knew that as you mock-agreed with a finger-gun and “Bingo.”

“Which.. is too bad..” his own mischief brewing. “See, if you were back here crying- I was going to send you home.”

“I was!” Suddenly offended at the implication you weren't sad enough, holding up balled tissues in angry fists. “If I started crying again would it count? I think I can still cry on cue..”

--

Sniffling and wiping away the remnants of a crocodile tear, your bag slung over your shoulder as you stride toward the door, Buck is yelling a classic “Where do you think you're going?!” in indignation.

“Home. Thanks for being an asshole so I can reap the rewards-”

“Arthur, man, what the fuck?”

He shrugged sheepishly with a downcast gaze. “You're the one that made her cry..” his tone implying there was some unwritten rule and his hands were tied, figuratively.

In a panic Buck is trying to walk all of it back. “Wuh- Well, wait- Are we gonna like, still go to that Mediterranean place later? I can come get you at-”

“No.”

“We'll go tomorrow afterno--”

“No.”

Arthur had nearly gotten caught gloating fucking up Buck's filming plans, but just looks like he's finding more cleaning projects around the store with roaming eyes - Let's see how this next video does.. The metrics are taking a hit no matter what, breaking his posting streak and falling victim to the algorithm, or wasting time and effort on a video that will have the same effect long term without his eye candy. Buck glares over his shoulder with one of those looks to kill, he should be mad at himself and he wasn't capable of being upset with you, so he naturally was blaming Arthur for driving the wedge by being a knight in shining armor.

Desperate, Buck is ducking around a bank of display phones to grab your shoulders, forcing you to listen, one more chance for you to give in. “You're the one that loves saying ‘depression can't hit a moving target’ - are you really going home to bedrot? Do you really think that's a good idea? What would your therapist--”

“Yes- A fantastic idea. My plan is to not even leave my bed for the next twenty-four hours like it's a Mr Beast challenge. Gonna spend the whole time doing Art--” Able to catch the immediate snap of attention and wild stare from your vantage over Buck’s shoulder where Arthur was still standing in the doorway to the back. Brandishing your notebook, thumbing through the last few blank pages and sending a rude blast of dusty air into your unsuspectingly dumb friend's face.

“Finish this sketchbook out, so I can get a new one for a new week and leave all this shit behind- Speaking of: bye bye Bucky.” Thwapping Buck on the arm with it, part chummy gesture part stress relief, before tucking it safely into your bag. You're mentally preparing yourself for the rain that had come and gone in drizzling waves all morning, because outside the large glass windows framing the front of the store it looks like the faucet was left on - but that wasn't about to stop you from leaving work early.

“Actually-” you cut, spinning on a heel back to Buck, who had warned you this morning it was going to be raining and that you should grab- “Let me borrow your jacket?”

You were asking it as a question, one you knew the answer to so it was really more of a formality as you helped yourself to his. Which meant you craned around the doorframe to snatch it off the hook and Arthur had distinctly made the decision to not side step to make room, but did scrunch up in the same way as when one walks past an overhanging tree or bush as your shoulder brushes his back. Before sauntering off into the rain.

Moodily taking his frustrations out on inanimate objects, Buck is out of luck while trying to get the final word in this tiff. “You're pathetic man, she was obviously playing you-” ironically said by the longest-standing member of your team, captain and cheerleader all in one. Then, he dug his own grave. “Grow a spine. Stop being such a fucking simp.”

“I'm the simp?” Arthur seethed in a voice that was unfamiliar, unsettling.

--

Buck had been fired, and apparently had tried to take you down with him. Making up all kinds of insane shit about you. Probably hope you’d turn to him, hoping you guys could find a new job together and stay attached at the hip. He'd found something else quickly but had been spiraling out ever since you stopped being coworkers, because it had made it easy to cut him off with everything else. Especially helping with all his videos and that dream of being a full-time influencer, work he had shunted on you out of long time obligation.

Thankfully, he had disappeared off the face of the earth not long after- figuring Buck did the thing he does and how he'd ended up in Jacksonville in the first place, imploding his life and moving every three or four years since he ran away and showed up on your family's doorstep as a teen- after your parents experiment had been over and you'd returned to a normal life. Not that you'd miss him, if anything you wouldn’t have to keep scraping him away like gum off a shoe. It would probably be six months and then you'd get some vague message asking how you are and explaining this new town had a much better food scene, probably chosen with a dart on a map like he was Rhett or fucking Link.

You and Arthur grew closer. Well, you thought the two of you had. You thought he was about the only normal guy you’d met in Jacksonville now that you’d settled in more, tried dating a few guys. But, bullshitting with Arthur was always a highlight of the day.

Today was muggy and humid, and you couldn’t wait to get out of the torturous uniform. It was swimsuit weather and a weird holiday weekend, which is why it had been a particularly sporadic day - swinging between crazy busy and totally dead. Your plans included a beach day tomorrow, on your day off, since it had lined up with your roommate Katie's and a few of her friends as well - so you could hardly wait for this stupid shift to be over. That’s why you were passing the time watching Kino with Arthur, over his shoulder.

“That shit‘ll rot your brain..” Leaning in to swipe away from a particularly dumb video. “Another? This is the dumbest fucking trend.”

He bites back the pleased grunt at the squish of your chest against his back, almost losing that light quality, forcing it back into his voice before he drolled “Most people’s brains are already rotten.”

“Got that right,” you can easily agree. Since he doesn’t seem to mind you keep the arm looped over him, even leaning more into him as you get comfortable. To Arthur it seems you're practically hanging off of him.

--

A delicate imploring look on your face as you buckle into the passenger seat you were sure no one beside you had ever sat in. “I know I'm already a huge pain in your ass but since it saves me a trip later.. Can I bother you to-”

“I’m just relieved you actually believed me.” Arthur’s aloof charm pouring off him in waves, any worry was instantly replaced at the reassurance of his constant good mood.

“Believed you?”

“When I said to let me know if you needed anything.”

Breathing a lithe giggle, you remember he had told you that after the first ride home, and in a parallel you asked him to run you by the store on the way to your place after work. “Well, what’s one more favor owed.. I’m just being lazy..”

Since you’re still a proverbial fish out of water, you’d been given the grunt work, load the ice chests to pave your way for the beach day. Others were bringing food, and things you didn’t have like sun canopies or beach chairs. Back at your place as an orange sunset stretched into pink, it’s the first time he’s gotten out of the car in the couple odd months this had become a habit. You were going to unload everything onto the ground and wish him a good evening as you get it sorted but Arthur had insisted “That simply won’t do.” A gentleman as ever.

Calling your roommate to get her to pop the trunk on her car, where everything would be loaded up for the morning while saving you extra trips, you’re yelling directions. “No - It’s not. Bitch- I believe that you’re hitting the button but if it’s still closed then..”

“Here!” Katie finally screeches, hauling open the third story window to chuck the keys down at you. Which made you scream and cross your arms over your head, decrying her for being psycho but it's okay because Arthur snatched them right out of the air.

“Golly.. How many people did you say this was for again?” He asks, a case in each arm as they make the short trek from his vehicle to Katie's with an excessive amount of beer and hard seltzers.

“Don't ask me- I only bought what I was told..” you grunt, setting down the weight tearing at your shoulder to hold in the button. “Now, see Artie? This is what a normal person's trunk looks like-” Grunting, now you're doubled over as you twist and wrestle the ice chests out from a mountain of other shit.

He should have helped, offered a hand, but he's caught dead in his tracks. Standing there breathing heavily while you wiggle your ass right in front of him, until you snap him out of it by motioning with a ‘grabbie’ clawed hand for the case hanging in his fist - “Ope, haha.. Sorry, lost in space over here..”

As big on wheels within wheels planning as Arthur is, he didn't realize that part was all intentional until you do the relieved wipe of your brow now that the work is done, jaunting a playful elbow into his. “Can't make you do all that work and not offer you one- wanna come up for a beer?”

He'd been cultivating this moment, tended it with care- like growing crops you never knew when the sprouts were going to pop up - only a best guess, a time frame. This still catches him a bit by surprise, adding an extra air to the quiet look of bewilderment he was planning to give you over that suggestion anyway, leaning in as a confused plea for you to repeat it. He's flashing a look of nervous panic like he couldn't have heard that right while internally he felt the gratifying swell of a well laid plan all falling into place.

The elevator had been particularly rank today, it always was on hot days which were plentiful in Florida, and you'd warned Arthur who trusted you without needing more than the waft that you already get coming in the side door. Finally making it up the flights of stairs, you set down the bag, the one you'd had to fight to carry on principal while Arthur brought the couple others. Not that you had gotten a lot, but stairs didn't help as he's breathing heavily coming up behind you.

“You know.. It makes me feel a lot better if you're huffing and puffing like that. Maybe I'm not totally out of shape if a sleeper-build like you gets winded too.”

You're the one hiding a wolf's grin, and he can even see the thrill he knows all too well dancing barely contained below the surface. Electric with excitement, static in the air, even if he'd helped it along you had the delight of the predator whose prey had fallen into place. He was glad he could give this to you, it was endearing seeing it from the other side.

“Sleeper build?”

“I thought I was the one who's chronically offline. You work out..” a statement of fact, verified from times when you're practically laying on him like earlier. “Whatever your new routine is, it's been working, gonna have to go up a size on your work shirt if your arms get any bigger and you want to keep up the act.”

“Uh…Act?” Once again able to play up that genuine swell of worry as just being an anxious guy, but the already shallow breaths come a little faster.

But you don't answer him, knocking on the door as you crack it, calling in before pushing through “Are you decent?”

“One step ahead- heard you talking through the door-” Katie's voice muffled further by the sound of her bedroom door closing.

“As if the elevator wasn't bad enough, the AC has been out. We've become a lounge around in underwear kinda house- give her a second.”

Arthur was the reason it had been on the fritz and an afternoon of reading bullshit about HVAC had paid itself back in folds as he was very well aware of the sweat-clung tanks and panties that had been your evening wear.

Before a beer you force a cold water bottle at Arthur while half chugging one yourself. You would have excused yourself to get changed if you had planned to actually sit and bullshit over a beer, but standing shoulder to shoulder in work uniform in your kitchen had become the play for the next step. Katie joins the two of you shortly, a second of surprise before recognition on her face as she points to the stranger in her apartment. “Oh, hey. This is the--” virgin? Arthur can hear it anyway even if she stops herself and you'd harshly talked over her with deadly poised guillotine eyebrows.

“This is Arthur.”

“IIII've.. heard a lot about you.” The roommate settles on with a knowing smirk.

“Here's your keys back,” telling her to chill without saying it, and throwing them with the same brunt force they'd been lobbed at you.

Kaitie begins stringing excuses together after a hushed conversation where Arthur had been left to sip his water, something he wouldn't have done with that offered beer but knowing what was next he was a bit parched. Hearing that crack of the seal, he enjoyed the crisp cool water as he was left to his own devices in your kitchen.

“Hey, you know.. I was actually about to get ready to head out to see that new movie with Derek soon..” Shuffling items into a bag.

“Probably get drinks after..” Stopping to prim her reflection.

“If Sarah tags along you know we'll have to get pancakes after last call..” Grabbing her purse.

“Probably just stay over there before we leave tomorrow.” Very obviously getting out of Dodge so you can have the place to yourselves.

“Pick you up in the morning!” Katie can't stop the barely contained giggle as she and her keys jingle a goodbye out the door.

You're wearing a look of irritation at her antics but it doesn’t seem to have bothered Arthur, or scared him off - which is what you had been worried about. You knew he was a shy and terribly private person so you really had more or less told her to get lost.

“Soo..” you try to segue casually, “How about that beer?”

“Can I have the tour?” Arthur offers instead, with a knowing glint.

Most guys, certifiable geniuses even, could miss clues as obvious as a blinking neon sign that says ‘Come Fuck Me’- If Arthur was still a virgin looking like that, you had figured he wasn't going to get it until you hit him upside the head with your pussy. But, as always, Arthur surprised you.

“Oh, sure.. Well, this is the kitchen- obviously. The living room.. and, over here- is my bedroom.”

--

Pouncing as soon as you were close enough to push Arthur back onto your mattress, you wasted no time crawling over him and locking lips. The first kiss had been hesitant, him shrinking back into the covers, but that had only made you giggle as the grip cupping his face tightened before pressing a few more against his tight lips. You would have stopped if he'd stayed petrified, but as you figured it didn't take much for the ice to melt. Those tight lips now eager to chase yours when you pull back, even if the process starts again with each subsequent kiss, full of uncertainty. Stopping to give him plenty of chances to yell for help, or rather - say something. Not your quiet Arthur, who still laid rigid and splayed the way he caught himself. You’re grinning against his lips as you guide his palms off the sheets and up your legs to rest at your hips before looming over him, caging him in with your arms as you stare down into those bright, striking blue eyes.

He wasn’t a virgin. Wasn’t. It was just that.. He hadn’t done it with a nice girl, a girl that he actually liked. Definitely not in her bedroom when the sun was still up and neither of you had drank anything harder than water. One he’d been dreaming about kissing for months.

All thanks to the magic of the internet Arthur had paid for his first time, and subsequently toured a few places around the local kink scene. It.. wasn’t for him. He’d liked it, he’d had fun, it’d certainly unlocked a few things - thus the disinterest. Chasing pleasure and wanting to cum was what the brain-dead idiots devoted their time to. For him? It just didn’t scratch the itch. He was meant for more..

What was the phrase about riding a bike? Or old habits die hard.. There had been a plan, he’d been excited to put on a show and let you ravish him but as soon as he had a taste, the delectable taste of your lips - marred slightly by the lingering taste of your lunch and that afternoon energy drink you chug to recharge the customer service smile- But now he knew letting you have your way with him was not going to be good enough.

He might only get one shot, after all.

It could be a regular thing, but he doubted it, hadn’t the novelty been this.. A one time deal? Would you even want to sleep with him again? It would become the dirty little secret, the elephant in the room, growing each day until it forced you right out the window. In the same way he knew this was going to happen, he knew your days at Signaler with him were numbered. One way or another.

It was like a switch got flipped as you’re the one overwhelmed, clutching you by the face now to pull you deeper in, biting your bottom lip roughly and groaning at the sharp winced breath you're involuntarily gasping. Now bolstered by his rousing enthusiasm, feeling a stir from where you have him straddled, you roll your tongue over his while letting your palm travel down to rub at the chub in the work pants you will definitely not be looking at the same. Figuring you’d help this along you start nimbly unfastening his belt.

“Do you have a condom?” He pants the words into your mouth.

Drawing back slightly, you admittedly balk when you shouldn’t be surprised. “Uh, me? N-no.. but I can- I was gonna see what we were working with. My roommate has-”

“I think I have one in my car-” He offers hastily, rolling you off of him. Even if you were only going to suck him off, he’d enjoy it more in the condom, but he actually had some other things he wanted to grab..

The guys at the store made fun of him behind his back, joked he had OCD as organized as he is and the fact he’s always yelling at them to stop standing around and wipe something down - That’s why you got on so well, finally an employee who gave a damn about cleaning. So while being excessively worried about protected sex or being as prepared as a boy-scout was very on brand for Arthur for you, you caught him by the wrist before he could move across the room in a panicked urgency. “Wait!”

He glances down to your grip on him, then to your face, and it's a charged look to say the least but so is yours. There’s almost a crazed look in his eyes, pupils already blown wide, but there is a twitchy nervousness hanging over him like a shroud head to toe. Gentle, and oh so soft, you slowly let go like he was a scared animal caught in a trap. You stare up at him with sad doe eyes, the kind that see right through a person like the lasso of truth, as you ask “You’re not going to get in your car.. and leave, are you?”

It had been one consideration. There was no undoing it- this - so maybe it was better to leave plans as that. Regroup later, re-evaluate. He’d already changed his mind on what to do with you back and forth and back and forth. He had so many ideas of what to do with you. To you.

Chuffing with nervous laughter, he rubs the back of his head. “Would- would you hate me if I did?”

“I don't think I could ever hate a sweet boy like you..” Tangling your fingers in his to give a light tug, dragging him one half-step closer to your bed again, quite literally urging him to come back. “I would just be sad I had to be sweaty and trying to cum all by my lonesome. You wouldn't do that to me, would ya?”

“You just want to use me to cum?”

“Arthur..” All dark desire, you purr his name and keep the scolding seductiveness. “How many times have I asked about plans outside work? This is the first time you’ve said yes to any of them..”

Placing a kiss on his knuckles before giving them a friendly jostle, keeping it light and playful. “I would even invite you to join us tomorrow but I figure not inviting you is the kinder choice- since I already know you wouldn’t want to go.”

“I grew up around here- all beached out. Probably been before, uh.. which one they taking you to?” He would stop by after his shift like you would invite him to, but not to socialize or swim, but with his camera. A disarming, quaint, painfully normal conversation about sand and sun not being all it’s cracked up to be for a few seconds cuts the apprehension.

“It’s not about me cumming, by the way-” you gently circle back to a moment before. “Actually I want to put you in the spotlight - But.. I can’t do that if I don’t know what you like. I just want it to be good for you. The best.”

How could he turn that down?

“I prefer the director’s chair to the spotlight..”

Your lips had been accenting the punctuation of your thoughts, dancing across his knuckles in a tango of temptation. Now, he thumbs across your lips like an artist sighting proportions, your lips the slightest bit chapped from the warm weather. And a metaphorical dry spell. It’s not like you were going to use dating apps, and prospects were dismal enough as it is. The few potential prospects had fizzled and flaked pretty fast, leaving you high and dry.

Not that you knew the meaning of the word right now. Clenching your thighs as Arthur loomed over you, stepping back up to the bedside proper with a hungry look in his eye that made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck and turned your bones into jelly.

“Perfect-” you breath headily, the pad of his thumb snagging on an incisor amid the excited smirk- your doing or his is unclear. “Direct me, Arthur.”

---

There had been a discussion before he’d spirited off to his car, you busy with some tasks of your own. Sparked by you insistently rubbing him through his pants, he’d confessed he would prefer to stay dressed - which you had jokingly asked applied to you since you were planning to be splayed and waiting but in a surprising yet expected turn of events you followed through on a regular afterwork routine of a shower, and usually you would get into the lowest effort most comfortable thing possible but he’d also requested if he could choose an outfit for you, even if it was about to come right back off again.

All of the, say, design choices, had come out like clues in a treasure hunt or like following breadcrumbs on a trail. One step at a time deeper into a maze, leading you a little further along. He’d still been playing into that awkward aspect and you’d agreed to everything so enthusiastically as if to not hurt his feelings and when he’d asked if you would mind brushing your teeth again with a quick apology oozing worry, you’d reused his line of ‘Nothing to apologize about’.

Not wasting a single second of time he mad dashes to his car and back, giddy at the feeling of being able to let himself into your apartment. He thoughtfully hid the device, completely unnoticeably camouflaged, he’d been able to scope the perfect spot while digging through your closet - figuring he would be able to retrieve it easily tomorrow. Probably stop by on his lunchbreak, he had already made a copy of your key from one of the many times you had forgotten them behind at work and begged him to safeguard them for you- he'd just never had a chance to really need it before and now he knew the place would be empty all day.

You had emphatically explained the whole spotlight thing was purely figurative, and that even nudes were something reserved for dedicated boyfriend status - begging as a fellow private person to understand. To which, he had wholeheartedly agreed, imploring about how much he respected you.

Well, the angle wasn't perfect and the view was partially obscured but it would do. Nothing his editing skills couldn't clean up. Already keeping a mental mark in the back of his mind for where he wants you on your knees choking on his cock. While he's in your room and the water in the pipes is still rushing noisily through the thin walls, he can't help but appreciate the room. You have plastic dropcloth too, but it's under an easel shoved into a corner and draped over the oil painting to keep it fresh. Sitting amongst a few cluttered half finished projects laying like landmines on a desk, your laptop is left tantalizingly unprotected. Your pin is even the same one you use at work.

It's all too easy..

---

A house cat lounging in a sunbeam, you come out of the bathroom to find Arthur patiently waiting on the end of the couch in a serene way like he's meant to be there. And like a doting companion, his face lights up at your appearance, quickly setting down the screen upon which he'd been mindlessly doomscrolling to pass the time.

But maybe it hadn't been so mindless, as he perks up and offering cordially “Want to order food from somewhere? There's a couple places that look--”

“Is this because I love to throw around the phrase ‘Buy a girl dinner first'? Because you don't have to. It's just a joke..”

“I figure if it takes thirty.. forty minutes to get here..” he leads.

“Time for an intermission?”

“Before the second act.”

Crossing back over from your bedroom doorway in a huff, since you were eagerly about to beckon him to follow you, but you come to sit on the arm of the couch next to him instead- giving into even more of his grand ideas. As he settles on what he wants you scratch his scalp, something already so casual in the moment you don't think to ask but not only does he melt into it, he looks up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you warn with a giggle. “Unless you want me to kiss you stupid- and by that I mean so hard I knock those glasses off like Velma.”

“I'm not that blind..” His sarcasm is easy and biting.

Booping the tip of his nose. “I know- be cute if you were though.”

It almost sounds like the stupid worm question as he asks, just to make sure, “What if I wore contacts?”

“You could rock a giant eighties perm and still be the most handsome man alive..”

“Stop,” he says in that soft shy way you're supposed to, the way that really means to keep going, but you don't, you kiss him instead. One doting, light kiss to the spot you'd poked as though it might need soothing before more forcefully yanking him by the collar of the constant drab gray shirt.

“Know how.. I said.. this shirt was.. borrowed?”

“Yeah?”

The conversation happened in panted breaths, but now you're sitting up straight, perched above him despite doing the opposite of taking the high road. “Want to be petty?” You'd kept a hand on his neck, not so much tipping his chin since his gaze is dutifully locked on you, so you're simply cupping his jaw as you feel the rumbled insistence to continue to explain. He needed more details to agree to anything.

“Well this is Katie's- and I just remembered how she ruined one of my pretty dresses. I think..” scheming aloud, truly devious when you walk your fingers along the ridge of his shoulders like the thought crossing your mind. “When she asks for it back in a month, I'm going to gaslight her and say I already gave it back- ‘Before the beach day, don’t you remember?’ - but really, you should come rip it off me..”

“R-rip it off you?” Hand involuntarily clenching into a fist where it rests beside his thigh on the couch.

“Well, sure- I mean, only if you want to. I know you said you enjoy the rough stuff when we were talking about porn- and we already had the whole safe word talk, but does it have to be: mannequin? They give me total uncanny valley..” You had been team ‘Alligator’ but it’s almost as obvious as pineapple.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a word you wouldn’t normally use??”

---

Wouldn’t you know it, there happened to be a roll of red electrical tape in his pocket when he was setting his keys and wallet aside purely for the sake of this charade, but that was how you ended up with your arms taped behind your back. Arthur roughly grabbing where your wrists were bound together, both pushing you down onto your bed while being prone-boned into oblivion and yanking you back against each thrust. Muffled whines and screams smothered face first into the mattress.

Suddenly, with the same disorienting whiplash of a rollercoaster sharp turn, you're rolled over in an about face. It made you feel like a burger or a steak on the grill, done on that side- time to be flipped. His glasses, those barely-reader not quite Velma glasses, had fallen off at some point during the furious session and the doting, caring part of you wants to fold them up and set them by his wallet so they don't get broken but - well, your hands were tied. Completely at his mercy as his nose draws like a dagger across your throat, his voice is a raspy gravel that you'd come to associate with him being either dead tired or under the weather. So husky with lust it was a surprise he didn't have to chew the words rumbling against your windpipe.

“Gonna cum for me?”

“Together..” Panting, hardly even breathy, you're feathers to his gravel. “We gotta.. cum together.. “

“Tryin’ to milk it out of me? So greedy. I can feel it, how much you want it..”

“I want it,” you agree in a moan.

“Then I need you to cum for me. You can cry on cue, can you cum on cue? Be a good girl for me..”

“I can't. Not twice, not before y--” Trying to argue about fairness was moot to the infallible argument ending slam of his mouth onto yours, as final as a judge’s gavel. It’s intense, claustrophobic, and points for enthusiasm but you’d like to keep your tongue attached.

It’s short lived. When you feel Arthur thumb the bud of your clit you mewl into his mouth, bucking up against him and he remembers why he’d rolled you over in the first place was because he wanted to stare down into your eyes when you came apart. Watch on high as you shattered beneath him. A yelp escapes you as you’re once again manhandled, thrashed about like it’s Jaws, but he’s sat back on his knees and brought you along - holding your hips with bruising grip to be poised at the right angle as if you’re nothing more than one of those silicone fuckable torsos.

Things hadn’t started quite so heavy, the first while of touching each other, him exploring your body had been pretty soft and gentle. Undressing with such adoration and care- Can he take this off? Could he touch you there? Leaving you kissed breathless and down to just that short, tight pleather skirt he'd picked and a pair of over the knee stockings you'd managed to scare up- mentally noting that you'd have to get some pantyhose when he'd been so disappointed you didn't have any- but then you’d said something that had set him free.

‘Sounds hot..’ was how you’d initially agreed to being bound, taped up, when he’d been expecting to be cussed out instead. ‘But the hottest thing is that you know exactly what you want, Arthur - Let me turn my brain off, fuck me like your personal sex doll. Use me - nothing more than a toy.’

Better yet? One that took directions.

“Where are my pretty little noises? Sounded like a proper whore pressed into the mattress.”

“The neighbors.. Thin walls..” Offering weak explanations as your breathing is haggard - utterly destroyed, ecstasy contorting your face. No doubt that you were enjoying yourself but he needed to hear it.

“So?!” The reply is harsh, a viscous snap mirrored by his hips.

“The assholes yell.. if my music unh- too loud-”

Another, meaner “So?!”

Trying to placate him with soft whispered encouragement, you sing his praises as your nails scratched and scraped over the sheets desperate to find purchase while pinned useless beneath you. “Mmm, Art, feels so good. Feels like I was made for you. Just for you. So fucking g--”

Shifting once more, trapping you beneath his imposing form, Arthur’s hand slaps callous and cruel over your mouth. “Scream,” he commands in the deep, almost unrecognizable voice. When you let out a flesh-gagged moan of pleasure, his face scrunches in a flash of anger because that’s not what he said. As if demonstrating, there is even a pop of a vein distinct and strained on his forehead as he shouts in your face for you to “Scream for me! Now!”

You comply, and even as the coil of tension snaps and you're afloat in the sea of nothingness, where the rest of the world falls away during climax you scream and plead and cry as he keeps fucking you through the waves of euphoria his hand falling away and your noise complaint is guaranteed. Until his pace finally falters and breaks, forehead collapsing against your sternum as a deep shuddering spasm grips Arthur and he mutters indecipherable sweet nothings against your skin.

--

Maybe it was because the two of you already spent so much time comfortably existing together, the space that followed the intense session stretched into something that could be a regular hangout or perhaps it had morphed into somewhat of a reverse date after skipping ahead to the ending first. Granted, the order of operations had lent itself to you lounging around topless, sitting next to him on the couch in the three skant pieces of the skirt and pair of socks. You'd thrown a towel down because ‘I'm not an animal' and gleefully settled into a meal with engaged, idle chatter.

Giving him the choice of two films, since he'd made the mistake of mentioning the term arthouse before, you had offered:

Breathless- one of those pretentious Criterion Collection classics: A film critic’s critique on film, lauded but ultimately a mix of genres that lands mostly as a romantic noir when a man tries to get his girl to runaway with him after killing a cop.

Or, an editing masterpiece with no dialogue or actors: Koyaanisqatsi. Perfect to be played in the background or dutifully watched and picked apart scene by scene. A commentary on how humans moved away from a natural world and live our lives within technology.

“You know what? No, I'm not going to make you hate me by making you watch and old black and white foreign film. Forget I asked-” you'd decided for him while pulling the other up on the TV. “Besides, whatever you told Buck about his editing pissed him off so much I never heard the end of it- I'm sure you'll be able to appreciate this one. I think it's one of the first time a comparison is made of an overhead city shot transitioning to a computer chip- pretty cool..”

“Say.. Anyone ever hear from Buck? I remember you having all those problems with his roommate..”

“Well, when you up and disappear- leaving all your shit and stop paying rent- that tends to piss people off.” Tucking a leg underneath yourself as you tuck in over your food, Arthur’s hand rests easily on your thigh seeming to take advantage of every second of staring at your chest with a smug grin. “I don’t know why I wasted the time and money to move his shit into storage- I mean, usually he would bug out, go all nature-child again for a few months but..” You shrugged. “Guess he finally got it. Guess he didn’t want his shit. I dunno- got auctioned I guess, maybe it’s all on one of those cable network shows - that god awful old chair? I’d recognize it in a second. Kept all the best shit though..” You leaned to run your hand over the beaded curtain that was hung in the perfect spot to catch afternoon light and turn the apartment into a kaleidoscope, a clattering harmonic swell of beads slowly sway back into place as you flash Arthur a knowing smile. “You’re not still jealous, are you?”

“Jealous?” Whether he had grunted himself hoarse, you weren’t sure, but the Mr Hyde to his mannerly Dr Jekhyl had remained in his voice and in his smile - But it could be you reading too much into the dubious eyebrow quirk that paired so well, the combination had you looking away and clenching your thighs while trying to explain.

“Jealous of him always flirting with me..”

“I.. definitely don’t miss the asshole..” He ventured in an honest way that left enough hesitation to backtrack offending you in a cute sort of obvious way. Having to add the asterisk of “That’s not why I fired him though..”

“Oh, yeah, I know..” And it almost comes too close to talking about work and the after, too close to thinking about repercussions, so you're rushing to keep the hate on Buck. “I didn't say anything then. But, um, yeah he kinda sent me some really fucked up stuff before he left too so I don't really miss him either..”

“Ever.. get ahold of his parents?”

“Nah- don't know how to get a carrier pigeon from here to Sedona. And I think their tinfoil hats are too tight because everytime I try brainwaves and good vibrations the inbox is full.”

“One less thing to worry about. Right?” He offers with a reassuring grin, the positive spin accompanied by a bracing pat on your leg. Then, an olive branch. “Uh.. did you want to try a bite?”

“Hmm?” You ask, definitely not getting it at first before gesturing for your set of utensils, which gets an enthusiastic “Yes, absolutely!” before he feeds you a bite. Flashing a smile while you chew behind a hand, and beaming a happy, “Mmm, thanks!”

There’s something so perfectly domestic about it, you’re upset you don’t let it linger in the air longer before you try making another one of those ‘buy a girl dinner’ comments that are funny because they’re cliche. “Is this how it goes with all the other girls? I’m not too gross to kiss so we can be all cutesy now?”

Arthur scoffs. “All the other girls? Now who’s jealous?”

“Well..c’mon… That?” You’d let out a disbelieving snort, gesturing vaguely through the wall towards your bed. “That was not your first time. It’s okay.. I’m not mad.. It’s just.. A shitty thing to lie to me about..”

You could buy ‘inexperienced’, maybe. You could buy that it could be hard to find willing, up-front partners - it was definitely the most intense hook up you’d ever had, and it only worked because there was months-worth of trust of knowing the sweetheart Arthur actually was. Not that it wasn’t you that had opened the proverbial Pandora’s Box, insisting on bending over backwards to accommodate him - which is an instance you could use ‘literally’ and not be facetious.

“Is.. Isn’t that.. What you wanted?” he poses carefully.

“Jesus!” Feeling that distinct hide your head in shame moment, facepalming. “Did I really let that slip at work somehow? And worse- you overheard?” Groaning and wishing you phase into the couch to save you the embarrassment, you offer an obligatory “Sorry about that..”

“I’m sorry too,” he says quickly, too quickly, holding up a hand as a white flag handshake - ready to speed right past this little bump in the road. “Call it even? Water under the bridge?”

It’s your turn to scoff, but you find yourself warring with that incredulous feeling of unfairness, of offense and disbelief - and also an odd sense of a time-limited offer, ticking down like a clock. Personally, it’s not your finest moment, but it’s a photo finish as you hurriedly snatch up the hand and give Arthur a terse, cursory ‘lets move past this’ handshake. But you do get to throw your own tangle of barbed wire clause to the deal.

“Well, be more forthcoming next time - especially if you want to do more.” Uttered like a threat as you took a moody bite of your own food again, delicious and triumphant in the feeling of getting the last word.

“Next time?” Arthur blinks, vocal downshifting as he clarifies “More?”

You give an ambivalent shrug, like maybe you’re not sure despite the devious grin on your face - acting like the cut of mundane scenes and life flashing by on the screen was the most interesting thing against the intense stare leveled at your face.

“Like, tonight?” He’d been worried about scaring you, and you’d even said more. That hadn’t been enough, you wanted more depravity. “Or when you say next time..”

“Either.. Both.. Unless, you have plans..”

---

Arthur could, admittedly, go on a tangent. He’d already been trying to get you to sign up for Kino for a while now, especially once you’d given in and started watching videos with him. Explaining all about the algorithm and how you can tune it where it won’t show you gross stuff. You’d given in and it had been cute laying there on the couch against his chest both scrolling away on your own phones as your weird movie selection rolled on in the background, until it had intersected with another one of his tangents. Faces of Death.

It wasn’t the first time you'd heard about it from him and your old clipshow film really was tangential. You'd been able to explain how you hadn’t always been so sensitive to blood, and used to watch a ton of horror movies because the fake stuff on the screen never triggered it - until the last few years, leaving out any hint as to what exacerbated the issue.

“Yeah - It was almost like how phones read your mind. I was just talking to you about that movie and then this clip, like someone made it shot for shot, showed up on my feed- here this one wasn’t as bad- gory as another one I saw. You have to watch it. Here, I sent it to you.”

Sure enough you got the notification, clicking to open the link while he eagerly looks on, waiting for you too. “Woah, this kinda looks like those post-nine-eleven beheading videos..” you comment, a sword poised in the air and someone struggling, bound in stocks, already making you feel a little queasy but he’d even waited for you to be done eating.

The brassy narration talks about a public execution and you have to sit up, pulling a grimace. “I don’t know if I can..”

“You said we should try to watch horror movies together- exposure therapy.” He’d been so excited you’d suggested that, and well, he knew exactly where to start showing you some blood. There had been some spilled, special, just for you- you had to see it.

“Didn’t you say Kino gives me more of what I watch and engage with, I- I don’t think I want more of this stuff - when you say ‘not bad’ what should I be expe-”

Ssshhing! Plop!

“You didn’t even look! That was the best part!” he admonishes, because what you had done was scrunch your eyes followed very quickly by locking your screen to black, setting it aside.

“Here, I already get them on my account,” dismissing your least pressing worry as he opens the video, flipping it into widescreen and leaning in to hold it, forcibly including you. Giving a wary, almost angry side-eye, you think of how all the people that you do let in, the ones that stay close like Katie and your bff, and your brother, even Buck - you’re stubborn as hell and need someone who is willing to force you out of your comfort zone, sometimes at gunpoint, or else you’ll root in place like a barnacle. And it definitely lessens the blow when he’s the one tangling fingers in yours with a bolstering kiss to the knuckles, like when you’d stopped him from running off to his car, with a reminder to “Breathe.. And, hey, if Kino is leaving it up - it can’t be real, right?”

“Fine..” you groan, while focusing intently on the screen, Arthur watching you equally as intent whether to make sure you were really breathing, or that you didn’t chicken out again, but chuckling amused when you make the comment “They’ve got nice hair. Real shiny.” A good attempt to ground yourself, a distraction, and you figured it was amusement towards that and not the fact that you did used to always tell Buck that after wash days.

“This must be why you had mannequins on the brain..”

“Must be..” he laughs nervously while anticipating the big moment. “Still give you uncanny valley?”

“The whole thing is unsettling- but no, they're not so bad. It's kinda funny - Reminds me of Scooby-Doo or ya know, hand-drawn animation. I wonder which door they’re coming through, it can’t be the only one that looks different..”

It’s truly the shot of the blood on the knife that has your eyes rolling back, slumping limp against the couch. Only the second time he’s seen it, the first time Arthur had been too worried to truly be able to enjoy it - now though? Especially over his video, still playing on a loop as he gently says your name, asking if you’re alright with a rousing shake of your shoulder. He knows you’re out, just not for how long, wasting not even a second of it.

When you begin to come to, you feel the tell-tale jostle of being woken out of concern with Arthur softly calling your name before you even open your eyes. There is a clatter of his phone being set on the coffee table as he swaps it for a magazine to fan you. “This is what they always did in movies - I.. I don’t know if I trust Google..”

“Mmhm.. ‘m fine..” Rubbing your eyes, clearing your bleary vision. Last time, at work, Arthur had freaked out and treated you as delicate as glass the rest of the day, it totally scared him but this time you find yourself not feeling so bad since this time it was his damn fault.

You couldn't help but feel like it was proof, like he pushed because he hadn't really believed you, the same way a girl has to list albums and band-members for daring to wear a shirt. But to his credit, he does seem genuinely overflowing with concern as you push up to your elbows. “Well, okay, I said I wasn't going to believe Google but it does say you're supposed to lay down.”

“Told you I'm fine, just.. lightheaded.” The room certainly still felt like it was spinning but you're insisting. “Seems way more dramatic than it is. Promise.”

“No, see,” the phone had been left open, unlocked, now bringing it over near your face Arthur gives a cursory scroll on the Google page of ‘what to do fainting’ - “I’m supposed to elevate your legs, a-above your heart..” You always loved him best when he was nervous, timid Artie, so that’s what he gave you.

Loosely knocking his wrist with yours, clearly having enough of the screens, you do give an encouraging or at least inquisitive hum that said he should keep going. Scrambling to set it aside, he tacks on “It’s some-something about blood flow..”

A dazed, still woozy snicker escapes you as you agree, “Uh-huh, blood flow..”

“Heh, well, uhm- If we don’t wanna try that..” He shifted uncomfortably from how he was already half twisted over you, hopefully rightly ashamed by popping a boner over a half-naked girl losing consciousness. But you were in that state not only because of him in the first place, but also specifically to indulge him anyway, so it almost seemed more like a moral gray area- one that seemed further away when he cups your cheek, thumb ghosting lightly as he now exudes nothing but a smooth charm. “I figure it’s my fault, so I - I thought I should kiss it better.”

The gesture is so sweet you can’t help but mirror it, bringing a palm to his face, though you can’t imagine your eyes holding that same yearning as his. “That’s a good start..” But you make up for it with enthusiasm, being the one to draw him in, leading the charge. This time they were earnest kisses, not too shy, not overbearing, reaching an equilibrium just for you.

He really doesn’t waste time to crawl over you proper, but you don’t waste the chance to ask in the space of a breath. “Believe me? Do you believe that I faint now?”

“Yeah..” it’s almost a little sheepish, but there's not denying the little bit of smugness too, and he’s asking “Do you believe that I’m sorry?”

“No..” you tease with a slight laugh, “But I could be convinced..”

--

Admittedly, you had been told several times by now that Arthur wasn't big on being touched, and you had been being overly handsy in the pass-out became make-out became getting turned out. That’s how you got your hands pinned again, having his shirt all balled up and scratching ticklish nails dancing over his undershirt. Snapping one hand up in each of his they get lifted above your head and pressed into the couch cushions but doesn’t affect the rhythmic grinding, rocking deep into your core.

Which is funny, because he hadn’t asked about that and even straining against his grip there is no budging your hands free, but in a shaky breath against the nape of your neck Arthur is asking “Mind if I give you some hickeys?”

“Sure,” you breathe, moaning enthusiastically for the attention laved on you. Now that you’re not whimpering directly into his mouth, you tease about being expected to be “Loud enough for the neighbors in the back, right?”

“Mmm, need to.. Hear you..” Uttered like a promise, with the urgency of placing an order, the excitement of making a special request. You didn't even make it feel performative, so unreserved and responsive, just for him. Different categories he's already logging in his head, groans and breathy gasps. The surprised way a curse will tear out of you is his favorite, eliciting one as he nuzzles against your neck, scraping his teeth being rewarded with a shuddered ‘Fuck!’ as your body bucked against his.

“Good thing I told Katie to get lost.. Hey, uh.. you live alone.. Maybe next time- your place?”

He’d already overreacted to your ‘next time’ before, so he was ready this time, and you had waited for the perfect chance where he could give you a noncommittal hum against your flesh. Determined to make you pay, to decide who was really going to be the one that was desperate for it. It wasn’t going to be him, and it almost like you can feel the backslide, the shift.

“Y-y’know.. If.. If you want to. And my roommate has a boyfriend, I won’t feel too bad kicking her out to crash at his place again..”

Another, even more aloof tone playing like an automatic response, but you can feel the smile in his teeth and the curl of a grin in his lips, you can feel how the way he kisses your skin is purposeful like a form of worship. No doubt he’s enjoying himself, you’re not that insecure, but you can’t shake that sneaking feeling in the back of your mind that you’re being punished for something, an invisible wall of a grudge blocking a fork in the road like this is some fucking video game dialogue option. And its almost like he can hear you spinning out when the sharp pop of breaking the bruising grip his lips had on your collarbone. Well aware of exactly how the collar of the uniform sat on you it wouldn’t be super obvious, most people would never even notice, but he’d be able to watch it heal up day by day, shift by shift.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to turn your brain off?”

About to answer, you don’t get the opportunity as your hands get shifted, both wrists being grasped together in one hand but kept pushed into the plush cushion. This of course determines that it was time to swap to the other side of your neck as you let out a giddy squeal at the harsh nip on the new landclaim. This had all started with your legs thrown up over his shoulders, you know, elevating them and all, but now he’s yanking one leg up again, hooking your knee with his elbow and causing you to throw your head back in a torturous moan at the new, even deeper sensation.

“Still light-headed?” When you shake your head, that you didn't think so he tells you to “Get on top” and “Face that direction,” and that's what does it for him that time, thinking about getting to watch the footage back of you looking so pretty coming undone on his cock. Begging for it.

After a few breathless minutes of pure muscle exhaustion you slump yourself off the couch and take a second to take care of your own needs and comfort - getting changed, going to pee. It's kind of funny how instantly flighty Arthur gets, probably terrified you’ll ask him to stay and cuddle, you come around the doorway to find him by the front door looking like he’s about ready to claw his way out from anxiety.

Of course, he’s just excited to get home. He can’t believe he got away with it, he was even able to move it between rooms and follow the action- so to speak. The close-ups on his regular phone? Oh, he couldn’t wait to get home to pour through them all.

-- Yandere - Jazmine Bean 🎶

“Big things, we’re doing big things here Buck - Can’t you tell?!”

Buck couldn’t answer, of course, not with the gag in his mouth, but he struggled against the binds so that meant something. Arthur decided it meant support for his artistic vision, really selling the sympathy aspect for the audience, because it’s not like his scene partners were giving him anything to work with, a little rigid. Still, it would be a moving scene. Really separate itself from the rest. Get ahead in the game.

“I just have one last question before we move onto the principal photography: Was it worth it?!” Arthur is cackling behind the camera, having to contain it before calling the scene to “Action!” priming the rig and hitting the trigger from behind the lens- Director, tech, and crew. At least he didn’t do the stunts..

“Bye bye, Bucky!”

Kashhing!

[secretshamewriting]

CHAPTER THREE

Saja Boys Masterlist here!

N Seoul Tower was as beloved as a mascot, a friendly face watching over you in the city skyline. However, actually visiting it was another story. And visiting for the sunset and getting to watch as Seoul's lights come alive at night? On a Saturday during high tourism season? Well, that wasn't just a different book, that was a new library altogether. You were hoping that the dreary weather would thin out some of the crowd.

But you had to get there first.

Lucky for the Saja Boys they were in good hands, you even had your own script memorized to break down the basics of public transport during the quick walk to the station. Frequently you had been designated mama duck to the kids from Australia and Canada when they made the leap, uprooting their lives for the dream and putting an ocean between them and everything they knew. You were shoving the T-Money cards at each of them, explaining “Once we get you guys set up on phones you can use that for just about everything, but hold tight onto these and don't forget to tap when you get off too. Here, let me show you a bit of what I’m looking at here..” Holding out your phone, giving them one of those video game starting area tutorials of navigating around town.

“Hmm.. So this way you only need two buses but there is like five transfers if we do that one?” Abby is hunched over, close to the screen as he points to the tiny section.

“Yep, and you can see here these are delayed because of how busy it is right now,” you’re explaining.

Baby puts a hand on Abby’s head like he’s leaning in to look at what you’re talking about, but turns it into a shove. “You’re the one delaying. Stop explaining and let’s just go already.” For a second it gets a bit heated, shoving back and forth and it’s right as Abby’s vice grip fingers grasp for the fabric of Baby’s shirt, who rolls away, face popping up between Jinu and Mystery on the opposite side of the huddle. “There’s not enough room in your meatball head anyway. None of this is going to matter once we get a few souls.”

“Meatball?! I’ll turn you into-” 

It wasn’t exactly your place to intervene but you saw a chance as Abby was about to lunge, wrapping yourself in a hug around the tree of an arm in front of you. From the distinct feeling that you were just holding on and totally along for the ride once you’ve got both arms locked, you didn’t exactly have confidence in your decision. Jinu puts it all to rest with a quick, “Stop.”

Abby is wearing a mean grimace still when his eyes flick down, he’s just now noticing you like a fly on a horse's back. 

Flashing an apologetic grin, you begin unwinding yourself, at least partially. He flexes under your grasp, catching you in the crook of his arm as you try to withdraw, a silent request to keep the calming touch. It was eerie looking up at him, the burning anger and life getting snuffed out behind his eyes. It wasn’t that it had cooled, it was instantaneous. 

You already figured out flirting was an effective tool on the two pink haired boys, and the fact they were all very food motivated, but this was definitely outside of the power of your charisma. Hair prickled on the back of your neck because it genuinely seemed like the phrase people say about the light leaving someone’s eyes when they die. But you still wanted to try to diffuse the situation, pulling him along arm in arm, relieved when he’s taking easy steps and keeping pace. “We get on over this way..” 

It’s during that first bus ride and you are leaning in against his shoulder while you’re booking the tickets to save time before you even get to the tower. You're trying to keep him pinned against the window with the bumps and curves of the road after having loaded Abby against the wall like a piece of luggage with Mystery’s help. Until he finally seems to snap out of it, or starts to at least. “You smell nice.”

You glance up but his head hadn’t moved from the way it was lolled against the plexi. “Thanks. Glad you like it, because from now until you shower you’re stuck with it and Eau de [Fragrance of] Grill.”

“Win, win,” there’s a bit of a chuckle in his voice but it’s all the more he says on the short ride, staring idly out the window as a city full of people going about their day rushes past. When you’re getting off, Mystery twists back to help you yank Abby to his feet. He almost seems remiss to let go of your hand, keeping it wrapped tight until you're at the step down out of the bus. 

You advise the guys to stay close and how many minutes to expect to wait. Mystery seems to have relieved you of duty, throwing an arm around Abby and asking “What was your favorite thing we ate? Because if you don’t say the hang-jeongsal [pork jowl]-You’re wrong.”

“What? Obviously any of the hanwoo [like wagyu] was better.. but that galbisal [rib finger]? Ohh.. that was worth the wait-”

You tune them out, you had seen Jinu seemingly going along and taking a moment to talk to each one in turn in hushed voices and right now it was Baby’s round. They had walked down the sidewalk a ways, out of earshot but they couldn’t control your prying eyes. Too bad it was Baby because his face is like marble and gives you no hints or clues with the flat expression and the angle only offered a fraction of Jinu’s sideprofile. That’s okay though, because when everyone loaded on one last ride, finally getting around to the right side of the mountain for the cable car, you corner Jinu against the window this time.

“What kind of phone do you want? A flip, that folds in half? It’s easier if you want to wear tight pants all the time..” you shove your screen in his face and scroll to show him the options of case colors.

He points to the black option and asks, a little wounded, “What’s wrong with my pants?”

“Hmm, boring,” you comment, unclear about which choice of his you’re critiquing. It was weird, they knew a lot about modern times, but also not. They definitely didn’t come with anything beside the clothes on their backs and their magic powers. Mystery had said something about it being the first time he’d eaten in a century, in that moment you’d seen it as another exaggeration from hunger before Romance had straight up claimed to be four hundred. “What kind do you think the others want? I can get them rocket delivered so we can finally get you all up to speed in the modern times. Gentrify you guys like the developers do, out with the old and in with the new!”

“I don’t know,” he groans, “Why don’t you go ask them and leave me alone?” 

“I thought everything had to be done your way, I just didn’t want to step on any toes.” Hands are thrown up defensively, while you slide back to the other side of the seat. 

Jinu sighs, defeat in his voice as he explains, “It doesn’t matter, choose whatever kind you want. All the human stuff is your job anyway.”

Part of you wants to make a shitty comment about how kind of him to encourage you to choose while spending your won on them. “So, are you going to tell me what my job is actually supposed to be?”

A dubious side eye is leveled at you. “Gwi-Ma hasn’t told you?”

You tap your ear the same way when the in-ears or other equipment malfunctions and shrug. “Receiver must be broken. Or I’m still too human,” you tack on with a teasing sneer.

“Hm. How should I put it?” he starts thoughtfully, turning towards you where your knees knock together in the narrow footwell, he awkwardly mumbles a quiet apology for that, but then reaches into his jacket pocket to bring out one of your business cards he obviously lifted from your office while saying “Ah, here..” 

He held it out in his palm, and you give him the blank stare wondering if you’re supposed to get the story on why he had it, but then he crumples it with a flare of pink light as his hand closes around it. Reopening his fingers, now in his palms lies a golden card holder, engraved with their Saja logo on the front. 

You do the double take to make sure it’s really yours to take before you enthusiastically snatch it, your fingers tracing over the lion head before pushing the button that pops open the hinge. The cardstock is heavy, quality, whatever you don’t care you’re just trying to pull one out as quick as you can to read the text along the bottom. Your name is textured with gold embossing, listed as Manager- Saja Boys.

Out of respect for his feelings you do try to stifle the squeal and quickly slap a hand over your mouth. You look at him and back at the card and at him and back at the card. Jinu rolls his eyes heavily, seemingly bracing himself as he crosses his arms before telling you, “Go ahead.” Happy to stop fighting it you let all the excited noises fall out as you wrap him in a mighty and victorious hug, squeezing hard enough his shoulders are scrunched up. “Jeez, okay okay, don’t rub it in.”

“Thank you, Jinu,” you have to add, giving him one more bracing squeeze before letting go, settling against the backrest with a happy wiggle while you took the time to take in the finer details of the cards and case now. 

“Don’t thank me,” Jinu clears his throat, “-wasn’t my idea.”

“Oh, I know that,” your retort is quick and with bite, but it softens as you explain, “No, I mean for the cards. It’s a really sweet gesture.” He makes a grunt of acknowledgement. “It’s the nicest thing I own..”

“Lie.”  He was the one with the quick and cutting response this time.

“Okay- The thing I’m the most proud of..”

“Lie,” he’s grinning in amusement at the little game.

“Fine, fine.” You shift in your seat, like an actor resetting for a scene. “Wow, Jinu, this is the most ‘fuck you’ thing I own. I will treasure it forever.” You’re clasping it to your chest like a heartfelt memento.

It’s nice to share a pleasant chuckle with him, as he finally agrees, “There we go. The truth wins in the end.” Idle silence draws on for a minute before he licks his lips and takes a shakey breath like someone whose long day finally caught up to them. “We’ll debut around your timeline. Follow whatever schedule you say. But..” the confidence he wore like armor buckles, “There are serious consequences and deadlines. For more than just us.”

“I won’t let you down.” It's coming out of your mouth quicker than you can think, only because it's coming right from the heart. 

You haven't had a quiet second to yourself, not really, definitely not enough to process any of this that had been thrust upon you. Today. Out of the blue. You weren't exactly sure what this meant for your actual job either, but something about it all.. There was never any answer you could give but yes. The oddest part though is it being emphatic, so real. You were more excited for this than any other project you had gone into. There was already a sense of camaraderie, of belonging. It was like those foreign idols coming across someone else from their home country and having an instant bond. What being on a baseball or volleyball team must feel like sweating and fighting alongside them, something you'd never really gotten to have growing up. Not that the boys had exactly blown you away with first impressions or even been particularly nice to you so far..

“I'm sure you probably don't want to talk specifics right now but..” you rested a hand on his arm, needing that bit of touch as an extra olive branch, hoping he could tell you were being sincere,”Please know, I'm going into this with the mindset of supporting you. This whole thing is obviously your baby, I've seen it enough times. You're our front man, I'm just the supporting cast.” 

You hold out a pinky, he gives it a questioning look, so you swipe yours over to just grab his up. “I pinky promise it, okay? Now stamp it,” you hold up your thumb and pause while he's a little slow to catch your meaning.

Jinu gives in with a smirk, folding your hands together to press the tip of his thumb to yours. “You didn't need much convincing. Are you sure? Even if you didn't read the fine print?” 

“Too little, too late for all that. I've already made my deal, gotten my money and recognition.” Once it's stamped you let go, and reach over to gently open his hand so that you can fake sign his palm, before moving yours over in front of him. Jinu chuckles and mimics a signature into your hand too. “I enjoy an easy life but I’m excited for the chance to prove I’ve earned it. That I’m not squandering my gifts and maybe pay it back.” 

You slap your hands together like its a sideways high five, even using your other hand so you've got his wedged between both of yours, dragging it back towards you to make a “photocopy!” 

“Wow, it's official then,” Jinu laughs into the words. “No way you could screw me over now.”

Scoffing, offended at the implication that is ever what you would do makes you hold a scandalized face while you make a point to pretend to pull open an invisible pocket and file away the see-through ‘contract’. Your tone is playful and bright from smiling, half of a chuckle in your voice too, you reign it in to make sure he knows you really mean it. “Whatever expectations- don't worry because we are going above and beyond. Because that's how the Saja Boys get it done!”

“Honestly,” he cut in during the natural pause after you finished your thought, a hint of self- aware depreciation in the amused tone. “I know you probably don’t want my opinion..” 

The boyish grin drops, his whole face falls except there was still a softness in the crinkles on the apple of his cheek. “But you shouldn't be worrying about us. Enjoy it while you can. If I were still back at the palace, knowing what I know now, I would’ve spent my time differently.”

He was an expert of the hot and cold routine, you didn’t know what to expect with him. It seemed like you were building rapport, but he also seemed really kind when you first met then told you that your soul was the only thing you had going for you less than an hour later. You narrow your eyes and lean in, analyzing his expression. His back hits the wall as he’s trying to get away like you’re a creature in a horror movie, a terrible bulging eye. 

“Are you just trying to get me to back out?”

“No! No!” he promises like he’s begging for his life before using his full palm to shove at your gross face, “Put that away.” 

“Listen,” no longer cartoonishly over the top, you’re just a bit tipsy on the bus in poor excuse for business casual with a whole Saturday night ahead of you and it seemed you had a new job to celebrate. Your mood was indomitable right now. “We're stronger as allies than as enemies, right?” He nods. “This has the potential to be incredible… A fresh debut beating out the heavyweight champs? I always-Can you imagine?” Your brain was moving faster than your mouth. “This is going to be a global phenomenon!”

“Don't get ahead of yourself,” Jinu tuts. “Let's worry about winning over enough fans-”

That's the vision statement I want to hear.  Every member has a role to play, both for public perception but also to share the burden of labor. And now so do you…

Jinu notices the glassy distance behind your eyes while he's talking, and you weren't annoyingly ready to counter every word. He cuts himself off mid-sentence since you probably weren't even hearing a thing he said. “There he is.”

Instinct and planning are two strengths that make you and Jinu natural leaders, but like two stars locked in orbit, the struggle will pull you both to ruin. The simple explanation is that Jinu will handle the demons, following my will. You handle human matters and direct the business aspects. 

All your thoughts were rattling on the shelves of your mind with the typhoon of a voice tearing through. It was like being stuck in a liminal space with the echo chamber inside your skull. You suddenly become very aware that you're not sure what stop you're at, panicking and patting Jinu's arm while unlocking your screen. You hand him your phone and tap the directions before motioning vaguely towards your ear. He gives you the pump-the-breaks style calm down hand motion before holding up two fingers for two stops, or something. He was paying attention now so that's all that mattered to you. 

And to his credit, everything so far matched his paraphrasing. He'd been too bitter to be lying, you knew that much, but he could have added that you had to do their laundry or something. You had known plenty of guys that hadn't been demons that would have added shit like that. Granted, he did mention something about fine print.

When it comes to the others, where Jinu is vinegar, you should be honey. With the fans, when he is sweet, you leave them wanting more. Your only goal is to drive their obsession.  Marketing, social media, fan clubs. Too much is never enough.

Growth trajectory, trends, and global market- all a current focus at your job. Mostly, because the other older producers never wanted anything outside the norms. Creatures of habit. But you need to make a splash for there to be any waves, so that must be the reason the CEO will stop you in the lobby while walking past the rest of the team. This was exactly the free range you needed to stretch your legs like a horse that’s been stuck in too small a pasture. The cherry on top was that with Gwi-Ma, the impossible becomes possible with a snap. 

Jinu is nudging your shoulder, motioning for you to slide out. You're now the one with the blank stare and doing the zombie shuffle. A true member of the Saja Boys. When you step back down to the pavement you get hit with a rush of vertigo, the world spinning around you as you stagger, hand flailing to brace on the metal frame of the bus. You were holding up the line. Jinu apologizes nicely to those behind him as he grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you off into the crowd. A hand curled around each of your deltoids is a surprisingly effective steering wheel as he directs you towards where the others are grouped up and people watching.

You are digging in your feet as you stare up at the mountainside. Pure insanity. A crowd snaking its way up and out of sight, the width of the path. The plaza is packed. You look at your hand because the colors are wrong, the glow of golden hour has been washed into a grey-ish purple. There is a sense of dread that feels like a boulder sitting on your chest but Jinu seems unbothered, somehow always finding a parted path in the cluster. The boys must have changed back at some point because they're wearing the same heavy black traditional clothes.

An open palm is directed towards you as Romance asks “What's wrong with her?” but it sounds like it's coming from inside an aquarium. Deafened and distorted. 

Jinu responds but you don't hear it, there's a low crackle of static that seems like its coming out of the ground itself. Someone bumps into your shoulder and when you turn you see a grandpa walking past, his gait the same brainless hobble, holding a lightstick branded with a familiar lion in a familiar shade of pink. They're lighting up the hillside like a runway, glimmers of the LEDs visible through the trees the entire way up to the tower.

There is a loud snap but it was an umbrella, not a lightstick, now that you look closer. “Sorry to bump into you,” he pats your shoulder and dips his head down while giving you a quick apology. He's no longer talking to you, but the wife that's left him behind as she is heading straight to get in line for the cable car, waving a dismissive hand as her husband calls after her “I felt a raindrop! It's going to start again...”

The air is raspy and drags with the heavy feeling still in your chest, but it's still a sigh of relief as you look back towards the guys and there are no gat hats, in their street clothes. The sun is casting a rich orange glow that's starting to catch clouds and puddles alike. 

“I don't wanna stand in this long ass line!” You can hear Baby from your right hand side. 

Romance is on your left. “The ride is part of the experience.”

“Found the tickets,” Jinu holds up the screen to show the QR, proud of himself. 

You'd felt like you had been doing better until another wave hit you. It feels like you have been spinning in circles and your blood is pumping hot in your forehead. So much worse than any amount of drinking had ever done, but that same little switch inside you that flips when the pit of your stomach falls out. Usually it leads to puking but this was an entirely new sensation, you feel yourself blacking out. 

“Guys..” Mystery notices the exact moment you start to go down.

..serious consequences and deadlines. For more than just us..

[secretshamewriting]

CHAPTER TWO

Saja Boys Masterlist here!

At this point you didn’t bother to ask any silly follow up questions like ‘is the rest of your group even in the building?’ just to be told ‘they are downstairs already’ in that stupid snotty voice. “Recording 3 is open,” you remark, throwing a quick note in the inter-office scheduling app, blocking it out for the rest of the evening. There was another quick stint of hallways and backrooms, you stopped briefly to point out restrooms and a little break room with water bottles and some snacks, not that you expected he would remember. Once you arrive you momentarily wrestle with the keys and the lock, before throwing open the heavy door that always seems reminiscent of a tomb the way the sound proof foam always smells like dust and old breath. 

Immediately you scoff, noticing things hadn’t been powered down correctly and quickly sitting to fix it. Jinu stands back to watch as you move the switches and dials until you point a stern finger to the booth door, even waving him in as he lingers a moment longer. “Where’s the lights?” he asks, poking his head around into the darkness and reaching blindly.

“There ya g-AAh!” You were going to be sarcastic when you see it flick on out of the corner of your eye but immediately get jump scared as you glance up to see four robed figures, faces obscured by wide brimmed gat hats, right on the other side of the glass. Jinu chuckles from the doorway, until you let out an even more pained scream. “AGGGHH!! WHO LEFT THE MIC IN?!” you frustratingly throw open one of the many drawers and cabinets tucked away between banks of equipment while grumbling about how sensitive and expensive those mics are. Next, you’re stomping to the storage on the back wall to grab out several clunky hard plastic cases that you wrestle through the narrow door, cursing this time about resetting the booth between sessions and how no one reads the rules. 

“Hold this for me would ya?” you ask sweetly, but not waiting for an answer as you unceremoniously shove the case at the gray haired figure, the shaggy locks hanging down around his shoulders from what you can see around the wide brim. He obediently grunts and accepts the object in a passive stance.

The wrench is in your mouth like you’re a swashbuckling pirate and you throw open the other case expecting to return the treasure to the carved out spot in the middle of the foam. “Uhhh, here.” you heave it at the big one who happened to be the next closest. “Definitely don’t need this figure eight anymore,” you tuck the microphone gently back in where it belongs and motion for the other one but the guy is just standing there. Now that you’re really looking, you notice that his hair is hanging over his eyes, so maybe he’s oblivious to your attempts to wave him over. These guys seem off and even as you go in and out several times getting your set-up ready.. they’re not talking, not making themselves comfortable in the chairs, no warm-ups. The most normal thing was you had to yell at them to stop messing with the foam on the walls, everyone is always picking and poking at it. 

 “Backing track?”

Jinu snaps his fingers. “Cued and ready.”

“Okay, break a leg guys. Let me know when you’re ready.”  They kind of awkwardly look around at each other before Jinu gives you an expectant thumbs up. Glad you can talk shit without them being able to hear you in the booth as long as you don't have your button down, you remark to yourself. “Gonna be one of those pulling teeth sessions, I see.. Take thirty-three? No prob .. So glad this can be my Saturday night.”

True to its name ‘Soda Pop’ is bubbly. It's fizzy and bright in your ears. The sound effects have you laughing but you're digging it. Almost as amusing as getting to see a muted version of whatever the dance routine must be, some hints of it sneaking through - sometimes that instinct is trained in so strong that idols move before they can think. The low energy they’re putting off though is no way matched by the vocals. The common phrase would be to not judge a book by its cover, but it feels more like one of those challenges where you have to stick your hand in a box and guess without seeing whatever slimy thing they put inside, the way this whole thing gives you the creeps. 

Physically you had that oppressive feeling that something's not right, but the music is so good you were in shock after, there’s a lull before Jinu asks “So, how’d that sound?” 

“Good- Yeah, it was good.. you guys did great!” It was a ramble finding the words, putting up a cool and collected front while masking your eureka moment, putting together the pieces of the visuals you had only glanced at, the calculated composition of the song to be an ear worm. It can be good-- Better than good, the Saja Boys would be a worldwide sensation, if you stick the landing. You wouldn’t dare presume Gwi-Ma’s plans or intentions, but there was a spark, already igniting a fire of ambition in you. “Come on out and we’ll all take a listen together.” 

They filed out of the booth and you had to keep doing the ajumma(auntie) thing telling them over and over “Sit, sit, sit, sit,” while shooing them towards the chairs until they did as you told, nudging the other rolling chair beside you at the mixers to Jinu. Once everyone was finally sat down, you wanted to make it a point to introduce yourself, doing a round around the room to shake hands and exchange names. It was still a bit icy but at least there was the distinct shift that they couldn’t just ignore you now. Mystery was of course the one with only half his face showing, and the only one you thought was a normal name actually introduced himself as “Abs” when he took your hand, which is somehow more on the nose than all the others. 

 “Here, there’s enough for everyone,” you say as you hand out headphones, “I’m glad there’s only five of you, honestly. I don’t think I could handle thirteen demons, I’d just send myself right down to Gwi-Ma now.” Handing one pair to Romance, who had been watching you like a hawk the whole time, you joke “You’re not going to make my life miserable are you?” “Oh, that’s Jinu’s job.” He smiles as he takes them.

You burst out laughing, especially with Jinu wearing a sneer like schoolchildren bickering about who’s bug was cooler as you came to sit back down at your command station. You were relieved they can talk too and not just sing. As the first round of the chorus is in full swing during playback you are all in varying degrees of bopping, you’re grooving in your chair while Jinu nods along next to you. Over your shoulder, you can see if you twist, whether it's a foot or a hand they are somehow tapping or keeping time, except Baby who it looks like fell asleep as soon as he laid his head back and sank into the leather couch. 

As it goes along you make a couple quick notes of timestamps you wanted to clean up, but the fact that’s where you’re at.. If everything was this easy, well let’s say that debut was looking less and less insane. When it gets to the high notes at the end you have to turn to tell Mystery “Wow, that voice!” but are kind enough to stifle the giggles when you see a shade of pink washes over his otherwise unmoving slump in the armchair.

The recording finishes, and you’re not even that mad that you’ll be listening to it over and over again, stunned in a too good to be true kinda way that you only need the first recording. “I’m a perfectionist so would you mind if I get individual tracks--” you ramble on with more of the specifics but Jinu is agreeable, they have nowhere else to be so they aren’t in a rush. It helps that you sweetened the deal. “Besides, we’re still going to be in and out of here so fast.. How about I take you guys out for some food to celebrate? I know a place that has the best lookin’ chef!” you use your favorite dad-joke, finger guns and all, thinking about a great AYCE KBBQ. 

Naturally, you'd use the usual wine and dine treatment the company pushes, even if it would be your money and not an expense account tonight. Besides, it was mid afternoon and you hadn't eaten yet besides the bird's breakfast of snacks you had picked at while standing in front of the open fridge and cabinets, having the audacity to call it a meal.

Jinu politely declines but while getting the smaller single person booths set up that are just inside the door of the larger recording room, you can swear when you enter there are heated discussions that hush instantly. They are definitely talking about you, because of how quiet it gets every time you go back and forth. It’s not until Jinu and Romance are the first ones recording their solo tracks, that Abby clears his throat loudly like he doesn’t know you can start a conversation simply by talking. “Hey, uh, so we-” he points to three that are still sitting there, “are really hungry. Like really really hungry.” 

“So hungry I could die,” Mystery adds in a monotone.

“Yeah, so whatever we need to do to go celebrate?” For the first time there's anything but a blank stare as Abby looks up at you expectantly with big eyes and a bigger grin. 

You laugh and nod along, promising “We’ll go out for sure then. I won’t take no for an answer.” But immediately feel even more of the suspicions prickle on the back of your neck as you cast a wary glance through the glass towards Jinu. Was he just one of those controlling bosses, where everything was a power struggle? Honestly, you hoped it was that simple.

The silence of the room gets broken again quickly by a loud growl, a low rumble that sounds like a scream filtering through stone. Baby puts his hand on his stomach, not even picking up his head as he groans “Need.. flesh..”

So you felt for your own safety you better get some snacks, leaving the sound equipment running as you all but book it out of the room.  You return to pile an armful onto the table for the back seating area, having quickly pocketed a couple of your favorites before going for quantity. For as much as Jinu rolls his eyes at the others weakness, when it’s his turn to be sitting idly by he pokes through the pile before grabbing a bag of something. Once again you feel like this should put your mind at ease, finally some normal behavior, but it’s unsettling how much snarling and open-mouth chewing there is behind you as they attack the snack offerings. You don’t bother looking behind you, and tell yourself the restaurant will have soju, the time-honored hoesik[after-work drinking] strength potion. 

“This only needs a couple of easy tweaks that I can make from home tomorrow, and then get it sent right over for your approval,” you assure Jinu while you start the breakdown and clean up that you had complained so much about earlier. “Monday morning we can follow up with-”

“We should be debuting on Monday. I’ve already told you everything is ready to go, and for anything that comes up, we can take care of it with the snap of a finger.” The chuckle is derisive and condescending. “I’ll send you a list of what to work on tomorrow.” 

You steel your nerves by sucking a breath in through your teeth, you turn to face him but relax back against the equipment with your arms crossed. Never one to balk at a challenge. This was your home turf afterall, even if he is an entity on a level you don’t really understand. “Uh.. Honestly?That's not going to work for me. This isn’t going to work for me. I realize I may have missed the orientation, but I don’t see a rank on your shoulder. I welcomed you as an equal and all you’ve done is talk down to me. You--”

“An equal?” His glance flicks down to appraise you as a whole. “Hardly. You’re still more human than demon. You’re still bound to this world. The ground probably still feels solid beneath your feet..” you look down to your shoes and back up again with your face wry with confusion about whatever point he’s trying to make. He gestures with an open hand towards the others, the room seemingly stretches out, furthering the other-ness you’re supposed to feel. “For us, it’s like we’re balancing on the Honmoon like a tightrope, except the circus tent is on fire and there's no net or anyone left down below to catch you.”  The way he leans in, a patronizing head tilt, the stiff pat on the noggin. All of it makes you feel small like a child and an older kid is telling you a scary story so that you’ll be too terrified to tag along behind them as they step out into the darkness.

You swipe away Jinu’s hand that rests heavy atop your skull. The doom and gloom couldn’t scare you if you didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. He'd said that word twice now. “What’s a Honmoon?”

A chorus of amusement over your ignorance breaks out, and the room that felt vast and spacious now cinches in. As if you’re stuck in a graphic novel and the panel is physically full with ‘ㅋ’ [ ‘lol’ ] flying around your head.

“How can a demon not know about the Honmoon?”

“Literally the whole reason we’re here.”

 “You’d have to be blind to not see it.”

The ridicule coming from everywhere at once before Jinu’s voice cuts over the others. “It’s a  seal, created by demon hunters, to trap Gwi-Ma and his demons in the underworld. To protect humans. Their souls.” His warm brown eyes heat up like iron in a forge, this time holding the glowing gold longer than a flash. Long enough to see the predatory slits of the inhuman pupil narrow on your face. Not staring you down, staring through you. “Shame you already sold your soul, it was the one thing you had going for you. The only thing we could have actually used-” his voice had been indifferent, callously calm, but the icy demeanor shatters as he sucks in a pained breath. Fanged teeth grit together as Jinu doubles over in pain. 

Never too proud to gloat, you’re about to throw the instant karma back in his face before it's you that is sucking in a pained breath. It tears through your airway like fire. But it’s not the air, it's your lungs, it's your chest, it’s each and every rib. Reactively your hand flies to clutch your side. Far more painful than ever pushing yourself to run to the point of side-stitches or even more painful than your tattoo and it's getting worse..

A line of purple marks chase up Jinu’s arm, his head snaps up where your terrified gazes meet just as he begins to drop through the floor. Suddenly what he said about it not being solid hits different. You watch with saucer sized eyeballs as he drops, still locked in a stare with you that's asking for help he knows you can't give. It’s like someone flipped real life to creative mode and is messing around in server settings. He’s gone. 

You don’t even get a chance to process the body horror of witnessing a split-second Philadelphia Experiment up close and personal, as the pain sears hotter and hotter. You’re the one collapsing now but thankfully you stop with a full body face plant at the rough carpet squares and laminate. Trapped in your mind you think about how many multipliers worse this is than when the needle was digging into your skin, its always worse on areas where there’s no fat to cushion, especially skin on nerve on bone. How many hours had you felt that sharp scrape of metal.. 

It’s even in the same place..

Wait, Jinu’s markings. You put two and two together too slowly, rolling onto your back as you writhe on the studio floor, the hand pinned to your side hoping that pressure can alleviate the torment in some way now claws at your shirt, bunching it up as you look down. Sure enough you see your patterns, the ones buried under ink and the band of your bra, glowing like an LED. A defeated “fuck!” is all the more you manage to choke out.

The others don’t lift a finger or move at all. Sitting silently and watching till you seem to be through the worst of it. You’ve stopped choking out gurgled cries of pain when you hear the deepest voice comment “Too human still, even for a summons.”

The can lights in the ceiling are burning spots in your vision even through your eyelids, but you don’t care in the slightest as you lie there on the floor, worst of it over but not anywhere near recovered. You try to even your breathing instead of the shallow and desperate gasps you had been stuck with, when you hear “Nice,” from right above you. Eyes flying open, it’s Abby leaning over you, very much looking square down at your chest from the disheveled way you collapsed. All the more energy you have right now, the most you can muster is uncurling your middle finger from where it’s balled in your shirt, conveniently right in the sight line of your bra. He laughs in response before holding out a hand to pull you up, you’re like a ragdoll with the ease you get pulled to your feet. Thankfully, since you still have noodle legs, the meaty hands direct you where you fall right into one of the executive style chairs. “Jinu’ll catch up. How about that food?”

You hardly had time to pull down your shirt, let alone sigh or shift after being shoved into the chair, but you look around and all of them are staring at you. An echo of stomach gurgles break out. You included. “Fine. Phone. I need my phone. Yeah, the little rectangle looking thing,” you direct Abby with a finger until your cellphone is back safe in your hands again. Pulling up the contact for the front desk you call the receptionist to ask “Do we have any drivers available?”

“I’m happy to call one for you right now.” The friendly voice addresses you by name.

“For five, please.” You nod to the guys after you hang up the phone. “Sometimes it takes a few minutes so..” you lied, wanting to sit a second longer to catch your breath before you have to deal with people. Oh, yeah, and you were about to take a bunch of demons dressed for Halloween out drinking. “Do you guys have like… street clothes?”

In Jinu’s absence the way they look around at each other actually draws on longer, but they seem to come to a group decision as the others look to the one designated to answer, Romance. “Sure.. we can change. But no peeking, alright?” His head is tipped back while he beams a mischievous grin your way, but it’s not until he winks that you finally comprehend what he said and throw your hands up over your eyes, hoping you moved fast enough you covered the embarrassed flush in your cheeks too.

“There’s bathrooms ya know!” A hat is pushed onto your head for safe keeping, it must be Abby’s since he’s the only one within arms reach of you. Some piece of fabric drops on your leg.  “Its not like I commanded you to strip!” you yell in a panicked mix of explanation and self-defense. 

There’s a husky chuckle as you’re told to “Relax.” It doesn’t work, especially as a hand wraps around your wrist to pull your block down, to which you yelp and lock your joint but you may as well be a matchstick holding back a flame for as easy as your fingers lift away. Much to your relief, yes definitely not disappointment, the four boys aren’t standing around shirtless. Actually, they no longer look like they walked off the set of a historical drama and seem downright regular in their hoodies, sweats, and tees. If it wasn’t for the fact not a single one of them had a normal hair color, all the rest of the look was a low-key wash of monochrome in gray and black. Abby strolls over to lean on Mystery, “See?”

Your heart is thumping a drum line in your chest as you throw off the hat and black piece of robe or whatever in a windmill of arms. Lungs still burning in your chest with the feeling in your patterns like a stream of lava across your skin. “This was too much excitement for one day,” you say with a sigh and a slump, “and it’s not even over..” But get your feet back under you to lead the way to the car, chanting your mantra: everything is better with food.

The SUV was already pulled up in front of the doors by the time you and the squadron of lost puppies follow you out of the elevator. Normally, you would sit up in the passenger seat to give the band-mates their own space together, but in the time it took you to glance down at your phone and back up to the car while taking a couple of steps, Baby is already buckled in, giving you a sarcastic ‘smile and wave’ from the front seat. Abby is holding open the rear door, Romance and Mystery staring at you expectantly from their spots inside. 

“You’re smaller,” Abby states as plain fact, so of the two seats left open you meekly crawl past the nicer bucket seat and squeeze past the narrow space to take the spot in the very back next to Mystery. He doesn’t say anything or even make a noise, his head following you as you clear your throat and get settled. 

The driver turns to ask and confirm the restaurant and you yell all the way across the cabin. He’s asking “Which street? Are you sure it’s not that one? Maybe you’re thinking of a different spot.” You wish you were upfront so you could just shut him up and show him on your screen. You can't help but wonder if they're annoying you on purpose in solidarity with Jinu, between Baby messing with the radio every time you try to talk, and you having to repeat it one more time since Abby and Romance had struck up a conversation about some truck logo, about what work a company with that name must do. Off to a strong start the driver goes the wrong way and you don’t notice until you’re on a bridge going across the Han River before you’re yelling over the noise. “ITAEWON! ITAEWON IS THE OTHER WAY!” 

Mystery is still looking at you the whole ride, face turned full tilt directly at you and not even subtle. Not so much that you can tell by looking, obviously, but it feels like he’s not even blinking from the weight of his stare. You wave to break the tension and he mirrors it. You push your hand towards him for a high five and he instead pushes his palm flat to yours like an alien species making first contact. Drawing your hand back, you hold up two fingers and tilt your head like you were posing for a picture, and he mirrors that too. Of course, you have to hit him with a merong [sticking out your tongue] and when you get a pink blep thrown back your way you break into giggles. 

Thankfully, you do end up at the right place, able to walk straight in. You had given them the run down in the car on what to expect at this restaurant since you know barbecue places can be a little different each one you go to. The first plate of meat didn’t even make it on the burner, since that would take too long and got scarfed up instead. You tried to tell them that you don’t usually eat brisket raw, but between that and arguing about flipping sides and cooking times where it started to break down into barking and wrestling at the table, you decided that you were happy to sit back and focus on crafting the perfect somaek [Beer+Soju] instead of worrying about seared meat. You should feel ashamed, and every other time you would try to control a hungry group of idols that had lost their manners- for the sake of the staff- but not today. Especially as a familiar face appears seemingly out of thin air and plops into the chair on the end next to you.

“Welcome back,” Romance acknowledges Jinu from your other side. “I take it he’s long-winded today?” Jinu shoots him a glare that looks like a threat, but couldn’t have been too serious as Romance smiles before placing a couple pieces of pork belly on your plate before throwing back his shot of soju. There is a whirlwind of chopsticks and the cooking grate is empty again, you weren’t fast enough to snag anything except for the pity shown to you. Luckily, Romance is hungrier for your attention than the meal. You match the energy by pouring, making sure his glass is never empty as is polite, preparing one for Jinu as well.

“You look cozy,” he commented coldly, not the slightest bit of concern or relief on his companions' faces. The soju is gone in one gulp and he hands the glass back, you fill it and he repeats it down to duplicate “Ah"s, so the third time you instead slide it across the table to rest near his place setting. He gets his chopsticks out and helps himself to one of the pieces on your plate, since nothing else is ready yet. You protest with an offended “Hey!” but he practically bites back with his response “Well, get used to it!.. You’re stuck with us.”

“Re-wy?” Abby asks through a mouthful.

When Jinu nods, Baby starts cackling and throws back his soju before taunting Jinu by holding the glass pointed at him like an accusatory finger, “You must be piiiiiissed.” The flash of yellow eyes is more telling than a magic 8 ball’s ‘it is certain’. But the conversation dies there as everyone indulges in food and drink to put a little more space between the misplaced resentment.  

The others hadn’t told you much of anything really, hardly talked to you in his absence, just that Jinu had always been some great musician and this whole thing had been his idea. But it wasn’t like you had sold your soul asking to be the biggest thorn in his side. It wasn’t your threats or manipulation whispering in his ear.

Mystery and Baby abandon ship for their own table since the food can’t cook fast enough, the staff starts to protest, you diffuse it with a bow, an apology, and offer a sleek metal credit card. You actually used to hate seeing them flashed like it's some free pass to be an asshole. In certain situations it's an old-school Chaebol move that you would spoil the staff in return if they spoil you but Gangnam brokers and wanna-be-ballers treated it like a ‘Mommy's Most Specialest Boy’ card. Your experience when you were the one having to run the cards, at least it's always good for it when you charge obscene bottle service or damages. It’s promptly brought back on a tray with more bottles of beer and soju with three trays worth of empties and serving plates being whisked away. 

Abby makes a server get a nosebleed when making him feel his bicep, guilting them into just bringing him one of the prep trays from the kitchen instead of the smaller portions. “It’s for your good man, I don’t want you to have to keep running back and forth.” This causes a chain reaction of other servers and even a few guests to ask to come feel as well. You definitely choked and hid it by quickly taking a drink when he pulled off the oversized hoodie to reveal a skin tight black tee and all those Abs of his, you know, to make it easier for everyone to have a turn real quick so he could get back to dinner.

Jinu and Romance seem to be playing the ‘same but different’ versions of a power play drinking game with you. They both are nearly slamming the glass down out of urge, it’s fun to watch you scramble to fill it back up, dropping utensils to pour with both hands. Right when you think you’re getting to enjoy some spoils of Abby’s quick rise to fame- totally sure they'd brought out the real premium cuts too- Romance is topping off your glass with the last dregs of a soju bottle. You try to shoot your hand out in time to stop it but he’s already got it tipped. “Woah! You know you’re only supposed to fill a glass when it’s empty, right?” Drops fly as you shake them off the back of your hand.

“Waste not, want not,” Romance muses like he’s doing some great act of service, sliding his hand under yours, bringing it to his mouth. If this were a movie there would be that one camera angle where the prince is leaning in, placing a seductive kiss to the maiden's knuckles, her heart flutters with true love. Not here. You become uncomfortably aware of your skeleton piloting your skin suit as your hand gets a wet and sloppy tounging. You scream and rip your hand back, Romance throws back his head and laughs, Abby kicks him under the table and glares daggers across the way, Jinu sulks and flips a mushroom. Over your shoulder, Baby and Mystery won't stop bickering. 

“Stop. You're over-cooking everything.” 

“You stop flipping them, you're getting rid of all the juices.”

“You're crowding it.”

“Hey! That was mine!”

“Isn’t it rude to turn down a drink from an elder?” Romance has his glass and an eyebrow raised towards you menacingly. 

“Nice try, I saw on the sheets you guys are all early twenties. You might be demons but I got more than--” You’re interrupted with a laugh and your glass being pushed into your hand.

“Oh, sweetheart. I know I have a youthful glow..” he rests his cheek in his palm and flashes a picture perfect smile. There's roses and sparkles in the air. “But I'm four-hundred years old. Drink up.”

You're pouting but clink the glass against his, placing the shot between your cheek and palm, rolling it into position on your lips before throwing your head and the shot back in one smooth go. That trick always kills with salarymen. More forcefully than intended you slam the shot glass upside down on the table before grabbing your bottle of beer, holding it poised as you explain. “Look, I'm a woman in the entertainment industry. Specifically one that is expected to entertain on company time. Four-hundred year old demon or not I can guarantee I've dealt with worse..”

“You have a tell, right before you snap,” Romance doesn’t even regard what you told him, poking a spot on your forehead before taking his drink, slow and victorious.  “You furrow your brows in a very specific way. Good to know.” Playing it off with a smirk like it was definitely just some little psychological quirk test. 

Left with no choice but to fire a warning shot, you turn on the whiny drunk aegyo voice. “This is still only the first cha(spot/stop), you've got to pace yourself, oppa.” A playful shoulder shove, and the innocent giggle that assures you ‘definitely’ are referring to how people troll Hongdae bars until the sun starts coming back up. “You're supposed to go til the early hours of the morning…” pouting and shaking your head. “You can't go too hard, too fast!” 

Abby starts dying across the table, choking. Romance doesn't spare even a split-second glance towards his friend. His entire being is locked in on you, grinning in pure delight. “You're right! Oh, I'm terribly sorry..” a hand folds delicately across his chest, and his voice does sound genuine and contrite. “How uncouth of me. I assure you that's not my style at all.”

You share a smile with Romance, one of those sly ones where you're both in on the joke together. He's certainly not sated, but the sideways glance holds both more desire and respect. If he wanted to play you like a fiddle he better be ready for a Georgia-style duel. 

There's a wheezing noise and your head snaps straight forward. “Abby? You okay?” You lean forward, reaching around the hot section in the middle, barely able to graze his knuckles with your fingertips. “Need a heimlich?”

His fist slams on his chest with few deep thumps before he gasps. His voice is raspy but he doesn’t waste a second to say “I’ll stay with you all night.”

It’s charming that the guy that had the whole place drooling over him nearly got taken out by some innuendo, even if it’s more like poor timing and inhaling all the food finally caught up to him. You can’t help but laugh and smile at him sweetly as you coo “My protector!” Even more charming is the blush and dumb grin that elicits. If you were going to take anyone to fend off the Hongdae guys during a bar crawl, Abby would be the number one choice, though that was probably more because he would be the apex predator of that ecosystem. 

Romance and Abby both push food around their plates while pretending to not look at you with stars in their eyes, but it's Jinu’s glare that you can feel burning your skin. You turn and direct a wry smile his way. It’s not his turn for the charm offensive, not that he would even be receptive. No, you're hinting at your next move in the match of 4D chess you two were embroiled in. Jinu rolls his eyes and shifts position to where you’re getting more of the cold shoulder vibe, and that works fine for you.

Eventually the staff use the time limit to unceremoniously kick you guys out, despite Baby and Mystery’s best attempts at reason,  that they should actually get a little longer since they ended up getting a new table and shouldn’t the timer have started… Yeah, they weren’t having it. While they did that, you had stepped aside and flagged down one of the workers you had rapport with from being a business client so regularly. You’d asked them to go round up opinions from front and back of house staff on what food you could order, get some delivery sent over as an apology.  

The rain had stopped but there were a few clouds that still hung low and heavy, stragglers hugging the mountains like forlorn lovers.  You were standing on the sidewalk, the Saja Boys crowded around you in a huddle as you pulled up kakaomaps to see what was nearby. You’re not used to being out partying this early in the evening, almost always starting well after dark. You have the time, you should drag them somewhere fun to watch the sunset. A rogue sun beam shines in your eyes suddenly after one of the guys had unknowingly been blocking it but shuffled out of the way. When raising your hand in defense, you're squinting up reflexively and see..

“So.. you guys ever been to Namsan tower?” 

Chapter Three ->

[secretshamewriting]

[Benefits Package] Change of Plans - Romance x Manager!Reader NSFW

=================

Saja Boys x Manager!Reader - Saja Boys Masterlist here!

Benefits Package - Not 'really' part of the main 'xManager' story, more like don't think too hard about where it fits in timeline wise. Also, so people can pick and choose what boy they want to read spicy stuff for, take what you want and leave what you don't. Part 1 - Steamy slice of life, Part 2 - will be the actual smut, sorry! It got away from me while writing it! It will be posted in a few more days. I just had to get something out there for Romance since he's always the one that gets picked on lmao

================= Rating: M - NSFW Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive Themes/Dirty Talk =================

Romance was the King of the Quickie, and frankly you were ashamed of yourself that you kept letting it happen. Dressing room of a store, supply closet at the news station, the occasional bathroom stall. But like most couples finding a quiet moment away from listening ears, love hotels had always been mixed in there too. Recently there had been an occasion that was too close for comfort.. Thankfully his ability to teleport and your impeccable ability for bullshit left no one the wiser and you'd both been more careful since. 

Never one to do anything halfway has led to Romance developing a new penchant for seeking out the rarest, most exclusive hotels. Luxury. Themes. You name it, you’ve seen it. 

Now, how out of six of the busiest people on the planet, who all happen to basically exist on top of each other 24/7,  would two of them find time to step away? Shopping, of course! 

Anytime one of the other guys would get all cutesy and want to follow along like a puppy, Romance was all too quick with the saccharine excitement “Are you more excited for the vintage record shop or thrifting? We’re looking for jackets for that magazine shoot, with the ice pops coming out- It might take a while to match the right color palette but I have six stores picked out so-” Any single one of the others would just walk away well before it even got to that point, no amount of demon loneliness made that sound fun or entertaining for them, and the second they were gone it just you vs ‘Bedroom Eyes Final Boss’. 

There was ‘We went for coffee and the craziest thing happened-’ or ‘Empty handed? Oh yeah. Sorry, they were all sold out of your skincare, Jinu.’ and the excuse he cooked up this time?

“Look! There’s a pop-up event for these new blind-bags, aren’t they adorable?” you were all hanging out backstage, waiting for their interview segment to come up. You had just gotten off a call and blinked down at the screen as Romance leaned over, tipping his screen revealing a text sized so that’s easier for you to read at a quick glance ‘Can I spoil you tonight?’ 

You take a measured breath, sighing into your answer “I don’t know..” It was always a good time, no hesitation there, but you can already feel how exhausted your body is and Romance’s marathon approach sounded too physically taxing. 

He swipes on the screen, turning it back towards you “Here look at this one,” - ‘I need to drown in your eyes and your juices’. You glance down, snort, and then shake your head. “Oh come on, look at the set-” all but forcing the phone into your hand, so you tuck yours away real quick and start swiping and it's just a collection of all your favorite pictures of him with increasingly pathetic and escalating levels of desperation in the text.

“Are they real ugly?” Baby asks, half excited, “I like when they make ‘em look stupid ugly.” Kicking out of his chair he starts to walk over, “Lemme see..”

“Omigosh!” you gush, quickly, “They come with matching glittery phone charms?!?” Baby makes a disgusted noise and is already sitting back down. But you hand Romance back his device, not even bothering to look how many of these screens he made to try to convince you. “It’s real tempting..” you lock eyes with him and he absolutely lights up, an excited gasp and sparkles in his eyes- only to give him an apologetic grimace. Already he’s deflating like a balloon, it's honestly surprising he didn’t go shooting off with a whiny squeal. 

One of the tech crew walks around the corner to let you know they’re ready for the boys. You wave them on, Abby grabs your shoulders and gives you a jostle as he walks by. Romance lingers at the edge of the set, that same vague spot you would always watch from and cheer them from the sidelines. “Think about it?” he asks, staring down at you with a hopeful glean, fingers ever so slightly brushing the back of your hand as Mystery comes up and wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull him out into the stagelights.

They were doing just a quick segment, letting people know about upcoming events and to vote for Saja Boys in the Idol Awards, answering a few preselected fan questions. The issue was Abby and the interviewer got to flirting so much it ended up taking twice the time you had budgeted. Jinu had been trying his best, oh he really was maneuvering while still keeping that cool and charming demeanor, but the host just kept going back like Abby was a buffet. You knew everything would still be fine after editing, however in the moment every single time she would giggle and go “Stoooop,” you could feel precious shreds of your humanity being ripped away.  Finally you had reached your breaking point, literally, the clipboard snaps clean in half with a crack loud enough a few of the crew jump at the unexpected noise. 

“We really do have to be going,” Jinu insists through one of his effortless grins, “Lots of other appearances to make..”

“But none with a host like-” Abby, electric on her energy, was the only one enjoying this. You threw each piece into the air and walked away, leaving them to fall and clatter to the floor. Mystery groans in torment. Baby throws an elbow into Abby’s ribs and Romance leaned down from the back row to slap a hand over his big dumb mouth.  

“No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid,” Romance giggles, lightening the mood for the staff, before scrunching his other hand over the mic clipped onto his collar, whispering in Abby’s ear “Shut up or I will end you. Suck her soul out of her ass later.”

Jinu points to the guy with cue cards, “Lets film the outro.” It’s his show now as he gives a few other brief commands while the host stumbles over her words, trying to regain her composure.

“Yes- yes- I understand..” you’re on the phone again when the guys come jogging up to find you back in the green room. You hold up a finger as you nod, “I know that, but-,” you pull the phone away from your cheek as the dial tone hums in your ear from being hung up on and immediately shoot Abby an icy glare. 

He at least has the humility to smile back sheepishly, he tries for the innocent finger tap with his shoulders all hunched in to demonstrate he’s just a sweet little guy but you grab him by the ear and start hauling him out of the studio. “Good thing you guys can teleport,” you grumble, pulling Abby off into a side hallway with the others trailing behind. Mystery peaks into one of the offices and nods, so everyone slips inside before you’re poofed away to the next show. 

This time it’s one of the live music programs that run in the evening, and you guys are way behind for sound check. The red-faced producer honing in on you, already screeching at the top of his lungs and flinging spit as the five boys quickly file past you and straight into their own mess, a gaggle of hair and make-up while people are shoving earpieces in without warning and taping down wires. Knowing if you just dissociate for a minute and let the dude get it out of his system, you can actually have a conversation instead of just being a punching bag, your eyes wander and find among the chaos Romance seemingly doing the same. 

You lock eyes and there really is that gravitational pull, where the rest of the world blurs out. Everything slows down. Everything else is muted. The way he’s holding you in his eyes is tender, soft in a way you never thought a demon could be- definitely not in a way that any of the others could even understand. He wore a strained smile that betrayed a sorrowful ache. It wasn’t lust, it was longing. And more than anything you wished you could steal another minute, another second, existing only there in his gaze but like sand in an hourglass the moment slipped away..

There wasn’t another second to rest or hardly breathe it seemed until you were back standing in the foyer at the Saja penthouse. The pink smoke hadn’t cleared and already Baby and Mystery were digging in cabinets, the sound of plastic crinkling suddenly filling the lifeless apartment. You are practically stumbling, can’t kick out of the heels fast enough as you follow the crowd into the kitchen and only make it as far as the island before you’re doubling over with elbows on the counter from exhaustion. “Drinks?” Abby is leaning into the fridge but hollering like he’s a vendor at a stadium, “Drinks anybody?”

“Beer..” you groan, hoping it would be ice cold and wake you up a little bit . “Jinu, order us chicken. “ 

“Yeah, Jinu,” Baby agrees around a mouthful, chewing the words. “Extra, extra spicy.”

“I would like to enjoy mine please-” you sneer, your cheek resting on the large slab countertop, naturally cool to the touch. You could almost hear your pillow and sheets calling you to come sleep all the way from the floor below in that sweet serenity of your own apartment. 

“Catch!” Abby yells, and your arm flails like a marionette, your whole body shooting up on instinct but running out of gas. 

Romance steps up beside you at the perfect time to snatch it out of the air. He leans and swoops his free arm around your back. A quick toss changes the can hand-to-hand, where the other is near your waist at counter level, his breath ghosting the hairs on the ridge of your neck as he says “Here, let me open that for you.” 

While his fingers may be holding the can, he is using his palm to push against the edge of the counter, his wrist leveraging your hip back against him as he steps in, a wide swoop of his other arm to be able to grab the pop-top leaves your arm trapped against your side and here he has you. Full body pressed against you, nose buried in your hair. ‘Stealing a moment, only for a moment’ as he would say. He hides the tiniest whimper behind the hiss and crack of the seal, before he’s rolling away like this was all one smooth dance choreo. He’s leaning non-chalant against the island just out of arms reach with elbows resting on the counter-top, tossing hair out of his face with a smirk in your direction.

“Thanks, but jeez,” you lean into that tired-of-your-shit voice, that tone was always how it was with him, long before you ever gave in that first time. Romance would always do the most, sweet nothings and lingering touches, but you being annoyed at it had always been the hallmark to the group. They’ve all worn you down in their own ways, where that bite in your words has warmed from genuinely annoyed to amused. This was another thing altogether still. Relationship politics and keeping up appearances. “What kind of production would that have been if it was a glass bottle?” you pfft while bringing up the beer for that glorious first crisp sip, grinning against the rim as you let yourself imagine. The way he would have wrenched his body against you with the twist. A grunt.

He knows, as he catches the corner of his lip in his teeth before asking, “Think about going to that pop-up?”

Your head falls like something landed on you. “It’s been so busy today..” you once again check your internal poll, it kept flip-flopping between yes and no. "Maybe..” is the best hope you’re able to offer him.

“I heard you guys talking about that earlier,” Abby chimes in. “Do you mind if I- hey-” he reached his hand into the bag that Mystery was eating out of and got nipped at, “Mind if I come too? Sounds kinda fun..”

Romance sucks in a breath, “These get pretty crazy, like hours waiting in line kinda crazy.” 

“Yeah, lines of cuties.” Abby winks before coming to throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you against him. “Besides, my running buddy abandoned me this whole last week because of all these dumb interviews we have to go to.” He lays the guilt trip on thick. “I wanna hang out with you guys.”

“What about your ‘no other like her’ host from this afternoon?” Romance asks, taking the time to pose dramatically as he does so.

“Oh yeah,” Abby lets go of you to wrap a hand around his chin, deep in thought. “What was her name again?”

Even Baby knows that’s bad, shaking his head with a “Bruh.” Initial craving satiated, he plops down into a chair, not once looking up from scrolling mindlessly until food arrives.

Romance shakes his head and holds out his hand, Abby passes his phone over without a second thought and in the blink of an eye Romance is handing it back, chat screen open and ready for Abby to slide into her DMs. Abby just glances down at it, and then back up to Romance's face with a big grin. “Hey, do you mind..”

“You’re actually the worst, Abby, holy shit,” you say out of duty as the only woman present. The part that really dumbfounds you is how Romance just rolls his eyes and immediately starts typing up a message. But man is committed to the reverse cockblock, his goal is to get everyone involved some action instead of it costing him his. 

“Here, don’t mess it up,” Romance shoves it back at him with a sigh. “But you could have just sent a shirtless pic and you would have had the same results.”

“Not results like this, she’s already typing.” Abby is chuckling, before he looks back again and his jaw drops. “She just sent her address. Not even a message back, just--” he turns it towards you for verification and you nod because sure enough. Abby is giggling looking down at his screen as he is already starting to walk off, “Mystery gets my share of dinner.” 

Mystery pumps a small victory fist, and Romance calls behind him “You may want to read what I sent, I did make some promises..” before waving it off hearing the door close down the hall as he starts getting ready. “So….” he turns and looks at you expectantly while thrumming the countertop.

“Hours in line?” you ask, metaphorically dipping a toe in the water.

“It may be all night,” Romance’s reply was matter of fact. Like it would take however long it would take. “But there’s a secret one and,” he stamps his foot and pulls both fists to his chest, “I have never wanted anything more in my liiiiiife.” Head thrown back, voice in a whine, tears streaming down cheeks - dropping it for a second to peak from one eye just to check your reaction real quick before the water kept streaming down his face. 

“Neither of you are going,” Jinu explains, the small dad-grunt as he stood from the chair punctuating the matter. “Foods nearly here,” he says as an aside, “I’ll go down and-”

“Excuse me?” Romance interrupts with vitriol, the silly little play dropped and forgotten. 

Jinu, being purposefully obtuse responds “I’ll go meet the driver, no need to-”

“Not that part,” it was bitter, obviously insulted. Talking around an issue can work on small stuff, and if there was one thing Jinu was good at besides being selfish, it was being avoidant. “Explain it, Jinu. Why does Abby get to go off who knows where-”

“Namseong,” you squeak, unhelpfully. There really was no clocking out from making sure these guys didn’t get themselves into trouble. 

“For who knows how long?” Romance doesn’t miss a beat though, righteously fuming. Pointing between the two of you as he asks, “But we're the problem?”

“Are you sure you're helping your point right now?” Jinu's voice is disjointed, cold. There is one of those subtle stare downs where there is some unspoken conversation happening between the glare and in this instance you are the party on the outside. “Besides, if today felt like a long day, it's more of the same tomorrow. Do you really think ANY” he holds up his hand so that it carries across rooms “of you should be going out late? Harvesting souls in the dark, of course- but there's plenty of other demons out there doing that for us now too. We need to focus and-”

The sound of the door open and closing halts Jinu mid-sentence as he twists over his shoulder. Mystery comes around the corner, finding some way to wave despite being encumbered with take-out. “Didn't want to wait.” 

“치맥 (Chimaek) [Chicken and beer] always makes me feel better,” you nod, after swallowing down enough meat you can really feel it hit your stomach and you realize maybe all your problems really can be fixed by food. “I know with the lifestyle we have now, this is the cheap meal, but wow-” you wax on, not even really thinking about it, but admittedly this was the guys’ favorite part. 

The odd moment of rose colored glasses looking at your life, they'd all lived theirs so long ago they'd lost all the mundane joys and could only remember the torments. That's why you'd fought Jinu from the start because a catchy song wasn't enough. A handsome face and good moves wasn't enough. They couldn't have been out here, masking in front of cameras and fans to completely shut down into zombies outside of it. There had to be some kind of spark of joy or personality to really be the idols they needed to be. 

“I used to.. wait-” you slap Baby's arm to make sure he's paying attention “It's payday and I am opening my banking app like this-”  Acting it out, both hands are holding up crossed fingers for good luck but only being able to squeak one eye open and even then only the tiniest peak to actually look down at your screen. “Hoping I would have enough after bills for chimaek. So, thank you! Oh Captain, my Captain!” You hold up your beer and the five of you, Abby missing out on family dinner, cheers Jinu, even if Mystery is the only other one who meets it enthusiastically. You’re already chewing another piece of the perfectly crispy, juicy inside, fried little nugget of happiness. “My comfort meal for sure. I'm a simple gal at heart.” 

“You’re simple, alright” Baby laughing at his own joke while he says it. 

“Nah, really though.” You’re not even gonna let him get you down right now even if earlier he ‘dropped’ the sauciest piece of his intestines-become-outestines ass chicken into your container. Mystery swapped you some of his for the gross pieces, threw himself right on that grenade. 

Speaking of, you pointed at him across the table, “Make-believe-five-year-plan?” Early on that little bit of corpo-speak had been your foot in the door for a glimmer of hope. It was always over-the-top and ridiculous, but it had to be when you didn’t really know what your world would look like a month from now. Probably the only reason Gwi-Ma hadn't squashed it either. Amusement parks. Evil-villian islands. Personal menagerie.

Mystery gulps he clears his mouth so fast, “Mountainside forest. Abandoned temple. No humans.” You’d both talked about this at length. There were plans so it better exist out there, perfectly imagined, with the stream and hot springs and in ‘abandoned but not too run down’ condition. And no spiders, even if Mystery said he would kill them for you, you’d rather they just.. Not. 

“No. Humans.” you’re slamming your palm on the table like it's a gavel, and now it's official. Decided. You turn to Romance, his chair pulled as close to yours as possible but he’d at least restrained himself from pawing your thigh through dinner. “What do you think? Sound nice?” You were just dreaming and hoping, grasping at straws for your own little world. “Oh, and it’s invite only,” you quickly tack on, turning to wave your chopsticks at Baby before shoveling some more food in your mouth. 

“I’ll be in my volcano,” taking another bite before Baby finished his whole thought, “I don’ give a fuck about your trees.” 

Romance lets out one singular chuckle, his signature move before he ends someone’s whole career. “Honey, I have seen your  ‘closet'- you have a whole ass room that’s divided down the middle. Not for twins, but for shoes and bags.”  Starting with some air quotes, the gestures were devastating. “Are you going to take those to the temple? Huh? What about-” You just hold your hands up over your ears and start doing the ‘la la la I’m not listening’ thing to him. 

It’s not long before all the food, even the extra order for the brother missing in action, is devastated and everyone is wrapping up. “I’m off to bed-” Jinu announces. 

“Don’t forget to grab the-” you point out the notebook of call sheets and papers you’d collected, anything handed to him that was handed to you to keep track of during the day- if all the emails and notifications you’d sent him already weren’t enough. On top of it all, it's not like you wouldn’t see him in less than ten hours anyway..  

He sweeps it up along with his gym bag before rapping the edge of papers on the table as he walks past, keeping it pointed like it's a threat the whole time he walks out of view.  “Don’t stay up too late, kids. See you bright and early.” 

The others linger, its easier to stay sitting, scrolling and watching the city lights. A bit of light conversation, it's nice- peaceful even. Baby must have finally filled his social battery, suddenly deciding he's sick of the lot. He pushes up from the table with a screech of chair legs, and really does try to make the noise on purpose every time. He wanders for the trash can and instead of any kind of sorting or recycling he just arm sweeps it all right into a bag before doing the vague ‘here you go’ gesture with the can towards Mystery who takes the easy option presented and bulldozes the pile of garbage with both hands. There is a quick “See ya,” and a “Night.”

And just like that.. Quiet.

Then, a warm palm on your thigh. It starts on the outside, tracing a gentle arc down towards your knee before his fingers sweep over to your inner thigh and it’s like you can hear the Jaws music playing, a tingling sensation that's indistinguishable between fear and excitement racing up your spine. He is sweeping higher, you are already moving knowing that you have to shoot your hand down and catch it. Chuckling weakly you tease him. “Point-two milliseconds?” clicking your tongue, “Losing your edge, old man.” He makes you regret that little quip by smirking and squeezing down, you quickly fight back the noise that tried to tear out of you to redirect it to a sharp exhale. 

But there’s the click of a door. You throw his hand off just as fast as he draws it back, instead yours darts out to snatch your can off the table and inconspicuously finish your last sip. Romance jumps up with containers in hand. It’s Jinu, freshly showered with damp hair and a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, looking down at his phone. “Good, you're still here,” he says from the end of the hall.

“Just about to head down for the night,” you try to sound convincing, the real tiredness lending to your cause as you yawn. 

“Short notice- not tomorrow, but the day after. I’m sending you something.”

Your screen flashes. “Huntr/x fan signing?” 

“We're gonna crash it.” He comes sit next to you, you're already able to tell he has everything all worked out. “Tomorrow you'll need to find out what time the venue is allowing people to start lining up. We're going to be first in line so that-”

The guffaw that comes out of Romance is cruel and cutting. “I am not fucking hearing this right now.” Claws sunk into the granite to steady him, amber eyes flashing in the dim lights. “When it matters to you, we won't just stand in line all night, we have to be the first ones there?” It would almost feel better if he was yelling and screaming, but the even tone dripped with malice. 

The eyes flash to you for confirmation, or maybe it's a plea and you missed the mark. A weak “Please..” asking him to be reasonable, like he was ever the problem in this.

“Of course, you're just going to do whatever he asks!” There’s that yelling you had craved a second ago, but now you're wincing at the words. It hurts most because he's right- until he isn't. It quickly becomes about wounded pride and he can't help but twisting the knife. “Without a care? Or single thought of your own!?”

A sharp screech pierces the air followed by a thundering crash. Romance had swiped his claws clean through, fracturing the stone and sending chunks flying into the opposite wall, accompanied by a brief shower of rubble and dust mushrooming in the still air. The abstract moody painting hung crooked, canvas torn and hanging, the thin wall tile behind it had spiderwebbed with pieces sloughing off. 

“Pathetic!” he barked. Neither you or Jinu say anything, the two of you don't even move as you wait for the storm to pass, your hands folded in your lap with a passive stare, downcast. In a pop of smoke he's gone, but you take the breath you don't even know you're holding, your body slumping from tense to relief, hearing the door slam shut so forcefully objects all over the apartment rattle. 

He hadn't run away, not really. You could still fix this. All of it. 

Romance needed time to cool down anyway, so first things first. Jinu can have his ‘special mission’, and you would shake or speak or heel on command, just like Romance said you would. At the end of the day it was Gwi-Ma pulling the strings, all of your lives were in his hands and he could decide at any moment to call ante and drag you all down. Jinu's plans had been working, and working well. Regardless of how you wanted to feel about it, or him or them or the whole thing altogether, that was the fineprint. Captain hadn't steered you into rocky waters yet and as First Mate you kept a steady hand at the wheel.

“Anyway,” Jinu moves right on, explaining how they'll show up in the sleeping bags to conceal their identities and take over, you just have to be the one to show up disguised first, since alone you'd raise much less suspicion for Huntr/x staff. “And remember, while we work the girls, you keep going after their manager.” 

While he talked you quickly finished cleaning up, the food mess at least for now. Listening dutifully, you’d even discussed what to do in case one of the neighbors had called the police due to the noise. Only a few minutes, a brief and rather one sided conversation. “Leave it,” Jinu instructs you as he steps over the pieces, “I’ll take care of it in the morning. Heh, maybe I’ll leave it and the guilty party-”

“Will it kill you to be humble for ten seconds,” each word hurled like a rock, but the only gesture you made was a vague wave towards the damage. “We both know this is your mess to clean up.” With that you spun on your heel, making the short walk downstairs to your fortress of solitude. You lean back against the door, eyes closed as you let the day wash over you, through you, and out. It became a mindful habit, leaving as much of the bad energy from the day by the door, with the shoes. 

Exhausted, dead on your feet, you can feel the pull of the Earth, practically wanting to collapse on the spot. 

You know what could fix it? Romance’s magic hands. Fingers ordained to worship and wonder, take care of every need.  A thousand kisses to soothe the death by a thousand cuts. 

The selfish ache tugs at your heartstrings, you think it before you can stop it. They were breadcrumbs he himself had sprinkled through your subconscious, through conditioning, and it had worked to bring you back to his arms again and again. But even if it's by design, you can’t forgive yourself for that initial gut instinct to use him. The real moral test comes not from your first reaction, but rather your resolution, what you actually act on. Your eyes fly open, your mouth drawn into an impossibly delighted smirk before reaching for your phone.

‘If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I’ll be ready in 30’

To be fair, you didn’t know if it would work, but you had to try so try you had, sending your dove of peace off through the ether and putting it out of your mind as you focus on getting ready. Really pushing yourself with that timeline and the goals you had, so it would never work if you didn’t somehow magically get in the shower fifteen minutes ago. But by some miracle you’re swiping a gel spoolie over those pesky flyaways determined to ruin your look when you hear the debonair voice from the other room, instantly sending your heart fluttering in your chest. 

“Uh-oh, I already smell my favorite perfume,” you all but run around the corner, slipping your earrings in so he can get more of the full effect when he sees you- except you half ruin it because you’re just too excited that he didn’t ice you out. 

“You never responded so I wasn’t sure-”

Romance’s jaw is on the floor. “Oh, I’m really in trouble..” is all the more he can muster. Which is saying something. 

The dress is designer, vintage, and cost far more than what it was worth but when you two had come across it at one of those black box consignment stores he'd insisted you try it on. In the end you had won out and forced him to leave it behind. However, there’s no telling a demon ‘no’, I’m afraid, especially one that finds himself in great excess of wealth and poor of sense. It had showed up in your closet one day without a word said. You’d never been able to find a chance to wear it for him, maybe you hadn’t really tried, but tonight would be different.

“Isn’t that my line?” Sweet and contrite, you close the distance with a measured swagger. You cup your hand on his cheek and look deep into his eyes, hoping that he’s able to look through to see the truth behind the words as you whisper “I’m sorry,” hardly letting it hang in the air before you’re snaking your arms around his neck and pulling yourself against his chest. Your brow resting on his collarbone as you mumble it into his shirt again. Both of you have too many things to apologize for but you can’t seem to single out one to actually speak truth to aloud. You can’t manage to find the words you really wanted to speak: ‘Do you still love me?’

For a second, he is stone but with a chuckle he melts into you like putty, a hand flying to your hip as the other gently lifts your face, he’s looking down at you tenderly. “Now who’s the one stealing the script?” The effortless charming smile and bright gleam in his eyes falters with worry and fear, a thumb ghosting your cheekbone like you might not even be real “I was out of line. I mean, fuck Jinu, but.. you. I can’t believe I-” 

You shut him up with a kiss, grabbing him by the face and pulling him down to meet you. The crash of your lips was like cymbals, it resonated in waves and filled the room. It’s harmonious. Powerful. Trying to pull your lips off is like breaking magnets apart, and it’s still only enough to break the seal and steal some air. Your lips catching against his as you try to speak. 

“We can talk later.” It’s unclear who is winning in the grappling match of affection, fighting to keep the suffocating closeness. Your nails grasping his jaw while your hips are sorrowfully bare as his palms rest on both sides of your neck, each finger needily pulling your lips into his as he pecks you between sentences, and sometimes between words. “We’re already stealing time we don’t have-”

Romance’s eyes flicker over your shoulder. This time it's your chance to interrupt him by kissing into his words. “Why go out to eat mwehn we have food at home?” Long thumbs framed your face, gently twisting so your head was pointing towards the plush elephant in the room, your absurdly giant bed complete with sheets as soft as clouds, adorned with a collection of pillows and plushies. 

You glance to your bed then back to him and with a slow blink you deliver the killing blow, but you tried to show you at least regarded the suggestion. “Out of the question. You know the rules.”

Releasing his grip, he changes tactics. Fingertips drag wide across your shoulders and following the curve of your waist to your hips. He gently urges his chin free with a twist, bringing it to your neck, buzzing with excitement you suck in a breath, expecting the feel of his lips- “Pleeeaaaaase?” he's whining, pleading it against your skin, “Pretty pretty pretty pretty prETTY PLEEAAASe?”

“No!” you howl in conjunction with a dismissive chuckle. Ultimate ban. This was the one thing that had been carved out special for you and only you. Besides, you knew it would be the ultimate slippery slope. Too easy, too convenient. The bed became jokingly referred to as Pandora's Box, both due to it seeming irreversible and haha ‘box’. 

“You called me pathetic earlier?” you jab, only because you know how to read him so well.

He flicks his head up, running his fingers through his hair to make sure it falls back into place the way he wants. Flashing a grin like a wolf, he asks “Can't fault me for trying, right?” You give him a flat stare but pinch the front of his shirt and give it a light yank as a warning. “I commend you, my dear. Once again you remain the Immovable Object. Perhaps the lady would be interested in trying the sofa?” Your personal sex sommelier suggests, but you shake your head dryly. “I hear the terrace is lovely-” 

“No way,” you give him another tug by the fabric.

“Allow me to show you our assortment of gags and then we can retire to the tasting room,” a grand sweep of a hand to signify he means his room upstairs, eyebrows wagging morse code at you that seem to say ‘we'll be quiet’ or maybe ‘no one will know’.

Two can play that game. Breaking away dramatically, you turn like you're storming out, only to stop just as suddenly. A bracing hand on your make-up vanity, gathering the heavy embroidery of the long skirt subtly with the other for maximum effect, you throw it so it fans wide as you spin. Perched and posed, your leg on display with the high slit, you ask “Does this mean nothing to you?” before drawing your hand down your side like a display model, keeping one smooth motion you draw it back to end against your forehead. 

“No! It's everything!” He cries, fists balled against his chest, falling to his knees as he shuffles closer. “You're everything to me and more, my love!”

You hold the pose like there's a delay in a photo shoot. “No, really, I got dressed up.” It's a lighthearted giggle but what follows is a factual statement. “We're going out.” You break formation to take a step closer, holding out your hand to help him up off his knees when there's a blast of the signature demon pink in front of you, but his hand flies out to firmly grasp your wrist through the cloud. 

Yanking, you pull him out of the haze, revealing a magical girl outfit change. As if he had walked right off the red carpet and into your bedroom, he is rocking a full three-piece suit. The fit is so perfect it's undeniably supernatural. The main color of the suit is a luxurious black, thin pinstripe accents appear as you get close enough that is the same color as the deep mulberry of his button-down shirt. The lapels and tie are a shiny black satin for a stunning two-tone effect. The real showstopper though is a bursting floral pattern, like a diagonal slash across his torso the jacket features peonies and mugunghwa, stitched in by hand in a realistic blush of white and pink. It's art. A walking trailer for a drama, capturing that feeling of petals caught in a breeze and hoping your crush leans in to kiss you. 

“You'll never catch me bringing down the dress code,” sultry confidence in his voice as he adjusts the golden Saja lion cufflinks. Never to miss accessories there are a couple rings spread across left and right, as well as a rotating collection of piercings he's always changing the jewelry for- so he had carefully stuck to the same gold tone as yours for the outfit.

“Never ever,” you agree, this time it's your jaw on the floor. “I wanted to do something special for you. It wasn't throwing down the gauntlet or anything, but I know when I've been outdone sir.” You're still marveling, giving him a couple genuine golf claps while drinking him in, until you notice an overlooked detail. Except there's no way that's possible, another gem of Romance's love language, how much is said in the small things. You feel like you're being led on, no way you're this predictable, you roll your eyes but like a loose string there is an undeniable urge to see it unfurl. 

“You forgot your pocket square!”  you slap a scandalized hand to your forehead. Motioning the universal ‘follow me’ sign before managing the tripping hazard of your dress by gathering up a handful in one while also hooking your index finger in his empty breast pocket, pulling him along to a drawer. “And I almost forgot my panties! How silly-” you laugh it off so innocently and his smile belies that this was in fact the very thing he dreamed up. “Two Susies, one stone- You wouldn't mind holding onto them just in case I need them later, right?”

“I couldn't imagine any scenario where that would be the case, but I would be honored,” folding a sincere hand across his heart. 

After flitting over your options, you’re torn between a pair with a richer color that helps keep the look weighted, or a cutesy pink with frills really a pop accenting the flower details and Romance’s hair. You had to see them both, standing back to make a proper decision, ultimately going with the clean, more tailored look. Ironic, as you invent some unconventional folding techniques on the spot, but no one would be the wiser once you’ve got them tucked in just so. 

“How do I convince Jinu we need to wear more suits?” Romance asks, twisting to get a better view of himself in the vanity mirror. 

“I don’t know,” you lean in to lightly scratch at his chest, more of a frolic as playful and light as your nails skitter across the linen of his vest “But I’m going to wrack my brain too. I need more of this.”

All too comfortable you fold into walking arm in arm as he leads you back to the very split-room closet he was making fun of you for earlier. “We have to complete the look.”

You pulled your arm free to start observing the shoe wall, looking for a couple pairs that you had in mind. Meanwhile, Romance already knows which bag you need, like the choice was obvious he leaves it slung on his elbow as he takes his spot by your side without delay. “I’ve got a pair in mind,” you explain, “but open to suggestions. I wont have much to throw in that purse though so if you instead want to peruse the spicy drawer...” 

It’s not faster than the instant the word ‘spicy’ leaves your mouth that it’s sliding open. He keeps making thinking noises, muttering like he’s solving relativity while stepping back to study you like theorems on a chalkboard. It’s giving the math lady meme, and you were a little worried and a little giddy at the same time. His musings only made worse as you rummage more vigorously having to dig and hunt. “They have to be somewhere! I know Abby’s not borrowing my five-inch stilettos for his date. It’s not like I-- wait! AHA!!!” You had to crawl up on the countertop to be able to get to the top cubbies, makes sense you hid them all the way up here it wouldn’t be a go to choice but it’s not like you were going to really be doing any walking and the dress was made for someone that was taller than you so you could use any advantage, not to mention the drama. Once you have them in hand you spin around yelling “VIctory!” but gulp down the triumph as you realize now you have to figure out how to get down. 

“Prince Charming is coming, darling, give me one second.” He had a good eye to watch as people make stupid decisions and have a plan ready to save them for when it goes wrong, not depriving himself of getting to still watch them be stupid. Usually it was you two joining forces to make sure Mystery stopped biting stagehands or make sure Abby wouldn’t break something because he was bored and fidgeting- but he is reactive and you were proactive. 

One hand steadying your balance, with the slim metal heel posts of both shoes held in the fingers of your free hand, you watch as he neatly finishes packing whatever he’s decided he needed for his tool chest, except instead of one of those Victorian doctor’s gladstone bags it’s your purse. Romance, solving hysteria, one orgasm at a time. Meanwhile, you remain stranded, absently kicking your leg, feeling the weight of the dress and swish of the skirt. The embroidery making a gentle shimmery sound, soft clicks of the beads. 

When he finally struts over, he takes a second to unbutton the jacket and place his hands on his hips, “Sorry I’m looking for a damsel in distress, is her tower somewhere around here,” he’s glancing around, “All I see is Mommy Mountain.” 

“Stop,” he knew you had deadly weapons you could throw at his head right?

“Step on me,” he’s insufferable, a toothy grin ear to ear. You do fake him out that you are gonna start hucking, and he ducks away while throwing up an arm to protect his head. “If you throw them at me I get to put them on you. I won’t make it weird.”

“You make everything weird,” you blow a raspberry down at him, he holds up his palms at you in surrender as he steps closer to lovingly brush his hand over the calf of you leg poking out the slit. He knew what you were into and what you weren’t, teasing you about it and getting the reaction was fun but actually crossing a boundary and seeing you crawl out of your skin wasn’t something he was interested in. Again, his mindset is we may as well have a good time. Make the stupid decision. Get laid. Start a demon boy band.

“Can you blame me for wanting to leave you trapped up there? I enjoy looking up at you so much I could stay here forever.” 

“I’m not trapped!” you huff, you had been doing so much training it seems too silly to admit fighting Hunters that want to kill you seemed less scary than jumping down. “It’s just a long way is all.” 

Arms thrown out in the universal uppies sign he motions that he is ready to catch you. “Trust fall. I’ve got you.” 

You turn and jokingly act like you’re saying a prayer, if only a little part of you somewhere feels bad that if it had been Mystery or Abby, you wouldn’t have hesitated. From personal experience though you could attest that Romance had no issues carrying you, or manhandling you for that fact, so you let yourself tip backwards. Heart flying into your throat for the momentary drop before you fall effortlessly into a princess carry, arms coming to support your legs and scoop you out of the air by the back of your shoulder blades, and pulling you into a spin. 

Somehow, you managed to not smack yourself or him with the shoes, which had been your only goal besides not ending up on the floor, using your other arm to quickly snake around his neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair to pull him down into a kiss. He was going to tip you gently to the ground but with star treatment like this he’s happy to chauffeur you around. 

The last step for getting ready to leave is obviously the pièce de résistance in the garment bag hanging near the full length mirror - another one of those rare expensive finds but one that you’d indulged in. You break the liplock by smiling against his mouth as you wriggle free, too excited to slip on the coat that screams ‘he was dead when I found him, officer’, all drama and a fur collar so fluffy you could hide anything in it- bashful glances, dirty words, or the barrel of a gun. Right now though it's the curl of a beckoning finger. 

“Front and center, stud.” pointing to the exact spot you wanted him to stand in front of the mirror before taking the time to straighten his tie. All so you could strategically drape yourself over one shoulder, he is a more than willing participant in being posed on. You throw your leg over his thigh but with a sigh and your lips pulled into an expression of tenuous doubt, you twist to hand him one of the shoes before pointing your toes and looking away. He makes a small dignified squeak of happiness, feeling very much the fairytale prince at the ball. He takes advantage of how you threw your head back as he kisses your neck while slipping it on.

“It’s absolutely criminal we’re not going to an event.” He’s sliding his phone out to snap a fit check, stopping to give you the questioning side eye to which you give the ‘send it to me’ nod before finalizing your pose. A little memento tucked away for either of you to look back at in those many instances you can’t be alone. Too smart to incriminate yourselves with anything more than playing dress up. And truly that's what it is, with each passing domesticity you two play at being a couple, a real couple with a real life and mundane worries and if only it was as easy as zippers and buttons.. 

When you get to the landing to get ready to walk out the door, you hold onto his shoulder while properly stepping into and pulling on your heels. The way he laughs at you and takes the keys when you fumble locking the door to your apartment. Chit chat about silly videos you saw, or something reminded me of you, a food place we have to try. Down the elevator and a short walk arm in arm and Romance is holding open the passenger side door for you.

Not quite midnight, eight am call time out of your minds. The sound system is turned up while the glow of Seoul’s lights reflect off the glass, as you and Romance zip off hand in hand to your late night adventure.

[secretshamewriting]

Meat for the Pride~

Treat yo' man like a plant!

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Saja Boys x Manager!Reader - Saja Boys Masterlist here! + [Part 1]

This series is intended to be posts on The Pride Fanclub and Saja Boys socials. This one is a saga about how to raise your boys and take care of them everyday so they can be soft and gentle! Each Saja boy gets a little love ~

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Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

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‘Baby was there the whole time and he can’t get a single compliment? ‘ ‘I said it was ‘good’ he was there 🙄 what more you want from me sis’ ‘Not a nice word about Baby 🙊’ ‘I got him nice snacks tho 🦑’ 

‘This is why he's so mean to you because you bully him 🤬’ was the one that finally got you to riled up enough for a full response. “Or do I have to be mean to him as self-defense against all of his bullying?”

“But fine, and you know how they say it can be easier to express your feelings in writing. I made stickers.” On the counter are a couple sticker pages of hearts with pink glitter around the edge and writing in the blank space inside. “Stinky, doo doo man, oh one of my favorites: Most worst. And of course, not just ‘good’..” you hold the phone close enough to read ‘Good Enough’.

“I have enlisted Abby to be my cameraman” you're grunting as you try to get the sheets into your planner for maximum sneaky. “And for evac in case it goes South,” Abby comments walking past behind you, before his train of thought jumps the tracks “Woah, why is my banana all sparkly?” The face you pull has the comments on fire after, full blown panic thats equal parts intrigue, confusion, and concern, before you add “That also means he's gonna have my phone, so if you get an inappropriate message from me- no, you didn't.” “Hey!” he cries defensively, before you actually answer his question “There's glitter on the stickers and it's already getting everywhere, sorry man.” 

Abby is grabbing your phone while his has the light on full blast. “No, really guys, this stuff no joke--” “How did it even-” His chest, your neck. Somehow it's already in the fridge. Everywhere, sparkles glinting in the flash. “You look like a stripper,” you giggle up at him. “I thought I already got my turn with the compliments,” he grins right back before you both go “Eyyy” and bump hips.

“We've made contact, we are a go,” Abby is laying on the ground, a gym bag half in the way as he films you walking towards him and giving a thumbs up with Baby in the background with a heart on the back of his shoulder. 

One second you have ‘Real-Life Cocomelon’ stuck on your finger holding it up to be read and the next you're one cheek on a folding chair, leaning and lightly pinching Baby's baggy shirt, looking terrified as you try desperately a couple times before it actually sticks.  Another thumbs up towards Abby across the studio. 

“We're on lunch, but first things first,” he comes and drapes himself over your shoulder, you lurch at both him really leaning into it while he's still catching his breath and also since he's sticky with a sweaty sheen, “how many we up to?” Absolutely giddy you choke out a “Five!” before quickly glancing off camera, planning your next attack. 

“What are these stickers and where is mine?” Romance comes up in a huff and an expectant hand held towards you. “No!” instinctually you grab his hand, but you have to throw your head back and laugh first, “Oh, sweetheart. These aren't for you at all.” Opening up your planner you point at the words, and once he stops pouting long enough to actually lean in and read, he starts chortling until his jaw drops. “Give me this one.” Romance is already peeling it off the page and placing it carefully flat in his palm so the sticky side is up. “Wait, we can do it too?” Abby whines from behind the camera, “Let me choose one.”

Romance had slapped ‘Frog Butt’ on Baby's ass when he was walking by on the way to the cafeteria as you and Abby try your best to stifle the snorts and giggles while filming. Honestly the production of trying to hold it back made it all the more extra, in an endearing way at least.

You've got your phone back. Abby and Romance are trailing behind you before joining the other boys at the table. You set down your food and sit back to look like you're scrolling as you point it towards Abby sitting down across the table and in the chair next to Baby, grabbing the back of the chair near his shoulder, Abby also stuck his leg out to use the side of his calf and shoved Baby, chair and all, down about half a meter with a squeal from the metal on the tile floor. Baby gives him foul side eye, and now there's multiple people being handsy with him, you can tell he's in full blown suspicion. It's only a matter of time now. 

“So, Jinu comes up to ask what's going on, right?” Abby is trying to explain, but Jinu interrupts in a half-yell-half-whisper “He looks like he's somebody's diary!” Abby just snorts before continuing, “I don't get halfway through Act One of the plot before he-” fish-eye ahh, goofy voice “Gimme a sticker!” Regular, smiling, suave Abby is back “so Captain is going to get some right now.”  “It's his fault, if he actually wore clothes that fi--” Jinu pauses, chuckling like he must have misheard, pointing to his chest “She's not the Captain, I'm the Captain.” “I didn't vote for you!” Abby shouts back. “Wh-” Jinu lets out a sigh laced with physical pain, “You don't vote for a Captain..”

“Alright, do you want ‘Eggs 4 Brains’, ‘Stupid Hat Club’ orrr..” you had to turn your wrist unnaturally to be able to read the last one “Exceedingly mediocre?” Jinu winced like that was too harsh before reaching out to grab “That one.” Jinu was the most subtle yet, Abby having just a second before dropping the phone- Jinu had walked behind Baby and put it straight in the middle of his shoulder blades, that impossible to reach spot, as he calls “Okay, everyone! Back to work!”

“Oh shit, guys- It's going down,” Abby is panting as he's getting the shot framed. Baby's holding your wrist, red handed with a pink heart. “The fu--” You throw a pointed finger over his shoulder, trying to get him to look behind him “We're in a room full of mirrors, dummy. How have you not noticed until now?”

He kept hold of you while twisting and grabbing a couple off his back. “Mumble mouth?!” He nods at ‘Sugar Addict’ and just crumples it, letting it fall to the ground with the couple others. Ultimately deciding he already looked like enough of a fool, grabbing and reaching would only make it worse. Telling you to “Hol'up” as he moved to pull the shirt off altogether, but the second he let go you started to book it. The camera shook because of how emphatically Abby was nodding, proud at the speed and reflexes. Baby had to lunge a fair distance to close and snatch your wrist back. 

This time he held tight until it was only that arm left in the loose hanging shirt, while you huffed and puffed and grumbled things like “From the heart.” “Put a lot of thought into ‘em.” Baby let go and pulled his arm free of the sleeve in one smooth motion, that arm flying up to wrap you into a headlock, typical jock behaviour.

“Gross!” you wailed, using both hands to try with all your strength to push away from his sweaty, bare chest. But there was no escape, your hands slipping on the sheen. He held you like it was storytime and you were reading together, the shirt splayed over a wide, finger-splayed palm so he could display the shoulder that had been the easiest victim to your ‘compliments’, a whole carpet bombing of hearts. “Nah, man. Glitter?!” the black tee dropping pink sparkles like it was pollen in Springtime.

“Tantrum thrower? Oops, that one’s you,” callously he blindly sticks it on your face, you yelp and try to blow a raspberry or a strong sniff to get it off from being half on your lip and a bit of nostril, before you momentarily bring one of the hands resolutely prying at Baby’s forearm up to brush it away. “Stinky,” he slaps that one on you too, “Diaper Baby. Oh, this one too.” “OW! THAT’S MY EYE!” you yell, a renewed fight of trying to get free, kicking sideways at his legs but the more you fight the more he just twists away while wrenching down tighter.

‘’No wonder you couldn’t make it solo if the best you got is ‘Thin lips.’” Baby roughly tousles your hair and changes his grip. “Always staring, uh?” Between the grunting and struggling you hit back “You’re a medical mystery, I swear they keep getting smaller and smaller. I’m hoping the next time you open your mouth they’ll just be sealed shut.” 

Stomping your feet and letting out the most frustrated groan, you plead “UH, HELLO! ABBY! GUYS?! A LITTLE HELP?!?!!” “Doing great kiddo!” Abby just beams proudly from the sidelines. “This is healthy! You’re working through it in a collaborative way,” Romance encourages.  “I’m gonna ‘collab’ my FIST into HIS--” you rage, fruitless. There is the squeak of sneakers but you don’t see till watching it back Jinu is keeping himself between Mystery and the conflict, holding up a steadying hand.

“Hey, wait Baby, you missed my favorite one..” you reach over and pinch, with everything you can muster. Baby lets you go with a howl of pain, and you don’t waste a second of it already peeling out of the room. Baby does the touch and look thing, gotta check at least once to make sure he's not bleeding, before he feels the sticker, pulling it off to read “FROG BUTT!?!?” Romance flashes large concerned eyes at the camera, a hand quietly coming up to cover his mouth before walking off screen and making himself scarce. 

“WHY YOU LOOKIN THEN HUH? WHY YOU LOOKIN--” The change in Baby’s voice and the way he tears off after you is finally Abby’s sign to tag in, tossing the phone to Jinu of all people. The recording is shaky and there's yelling and a loud crack and shatter sound before you hear an exasperated Jinu realize “Wait, why am I still-”

The video ends on a pic of you and Baby in one of those enormous ‘this is our get-along’ shirts, you’re holding up a thumbs up on the side that Baby had grabbed, and he is holding up one of those cardboard shame signs that has ‘i kicked a mirror’. Both of you look dead behind the eyes with glassy stares. Some sad, thoughtful violin plays and it grays out, like it's the end of a movie and they’re telling you that all the characters grew up and followed their dreams except it says NO MANAGERS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS CLIP - RIP MIRROR - GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

The Pride in the comments was absolutely rabid. Demanding info. They have to know what happened next, how did a mirror get broken, how did the guys get them calmed down. ‘Who got them in the shirt? 🤔 Are THEY okay?’ Jinu replied ‘They were just hungry. I shook a bag of treats and they stopped fighting’

Abby posts ‘RIP Backshot Mirror 💀’ “Everyone is crying, ‘Is Baby okay?’ ‘Is Miss okay?’ No one cares about me!” showing the torn up spot on the wall, glue residue and ripped backing, he's crying against the drywall “It was MY mirror that got broken- and if you're wondering about the title it's because this was for the reverse pec deck, and I know how everyone loves seeing the Lats do their thing..” camera on a tripod now as he steps into frame and shows the machine. “So get your mind out of the gutter!” His ‘Fitness’ content was always a big hit so a gym tour wasn't necessary as he detailed how “Baby came flying around this corner,” giving some very overview details of the ordeal. 

Mystery has the top comment ‘That’s the shared gym..’ Baby starts an  ‘OUR mirror’ meme. Abby even posts two grainy pictures that must have been pulled from the security system, one is Baby mid-air flying kick while you’re all ducked down, then there's another one where you are baseball power sliding down the hall, captioned ‘Nice form 😤’.

Romance, meanwhile, is in the comments. All he has to slide in is: ‘Also them’ and some candid shots of you two. One that was taken in the car, Romance holding the phone up and posing like he’s taking a selfie but really caught you in the backseat sitting next to each other, you’re taking an offered earbud while smiling down at your phone, the next one is you resting your cheek on his shoulder while you both watch a video together, then one more where you had dozed off on his shoulder and he’s sitting all contorted, resting his face on top of your head as he looks out the far window. The fans are screaming ‘Why is Romance the biggest shipper of us all?’ “Mother out here with the tea’ 

The shipping wars begin, as they always do. The little lions addicted to your two’s hot and cold routine come full force with their tried and true: You tying Baby’s shoe, or fixing his hat and booping his nose, piles of tender little moments caught from the side at events. There’s a gif of that ONE time you absentmindedly took the lollypop out of his mouth because he kept annoying you with the noises but you were already trying to fix his mic pack and didn’t have hands to hold it so you put it in your mouth. Didn’t help you literally also had your hands up his shirt there too. It’s the top comment, even above the candid pics, ‘They’re married, your honor’ with a like from Romance. 

The next week you post a video of clips that's exclusively you harassing Baby over the glitter. “You dropped something,” as he's walking by then when he turns around you just have some specks of glitter on an outstretched finger. “Don't move, you've got something-” you come wipe it off his cheek. At least ten that are just “Boop” “Boop” “Boop-boop” pinching it off his sweater, brushing it off an arm, neck, armpit- nowhere is safe from the glitter. “Eyelash. Make a wish- oh wait.” Baby is already pulling his bottom lid down with a middle finger as you lean in over him and giggle. He's trying to microwave food and you run up “I see some-” to blow in his ear making him yell and jump. It ends on one where he's obviously the one filming, annoying on the zooms, “How's it going?” While you're huffing and puffing trying to blow away stray glitter while doing his nails. “Shut up!” you snap back, glaring up angrily.

Baby posts a bathroom selfie and sticking out like a sore thumb against all the other stickers lining the edge of the mirror is a pink heart. He actually replied to one of the many fans asking which one he kept. ‘Most worst @matriarchsaja matching tattoos when? 🤔’

[secretshamewriting]

Meat for the Pride~

Treat yo' man like a plant!

=================

Saja Boys x Manager!Reader - Saja Boys Masterlist here! + [Part 2]

This series is intended to be posts on The Pride Fanclub and Saja Boys socials. This one is a saga about how to raise your boys and take care of them everyday so they can be soft and gentle! Each Saja boy gets a little love ~

=================

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

=================

“Ladies, you’re always asking how I keep my boys so soft and gentle? Welcome back to my series:” 

Wiggling your fingers towards the front camera as you summon the title ‘Treat yo man like a plant’ in sparkly text and swipe effect.

“We’ve already covered basics like plenty of sun” you hold up a finger and a picture of Mystery asleep in a beam of sun on the floor like a pet flashes on screen, “and water.” A second finger and this time it’s Baby chugjugging one of those five-gallon water cooler bottles.

“But today we’re covering the most important part,” you hold your hand to your chest with an air of self righteousness, you’re up here on the pulpit arguing your thesis, this is your life's work, raising a finger in the air as you drop this gem, the very secret of the universe. “COM-PLI-MENT THEM” You rapid fire, aggressively tapping your finger of truth and knowledge on the screen. 

“You want them to tell you ‘you’re pretty’, everyday?” You ask the camera while walking down the hall, “Well when was the last time you told them they were pretty? Huh?” The camera flips around as you’re at a door, you do the quickest most dad knock ever before cracking the door and sticking your face in. “Jinu! Hey, Jinu!” at least waiting for an acknowledgement of confused Jinu noises before barging into his room fully. He was sitting at his desk with headphones on, half pulling them off now as he twists to look at you. You hold out a finger like you’re going to berate him for something but instead just shout “You’re so freaking pretty!” 

Instantly his sullen, serious ‘I'm writing lyrics and feeling things’ face pulls into the happiest, most babygirl smile. He’s beaming. He’s giggling. 

You quickly run away like the compliment gremlin you are, but Jinu being who he is yells after you “Wait! WAIT-WHY?!?”

No closure for Jinu’s trust issues as it cuts to Romance, filmed in zoom from the doorway, standing in front of a mirror, hair in a claw clip and rubbing in a cream under his eyes. “Babe! You’re FUCKING gorgeous!” you absolutely catcall him with a weird ass voice and everything, “Bitch, I know it,” he says with a sassy swagger head bob, but turns over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the room until they actually find you and a hand flies up to cover his mouth, embarrassed but laughing when he sees you’re recording. “Yaas! We love a self-care king!” you gas him up, to which he responds with a kissy face and a finger heart. 

Since you’re still in xx zoom it goes all shaky as he starts walking at you and the clip cuts. A second later you’re now in front of the mirror with him, claw clip also in full force, Romance with one arm around your shoulder and leaning on you as you film, looking cutesy. “Yeah, so I triggered the proximity alert for love and attention. Some men do have a minimum level of attention they will accept before they let you leave. Sorry guys, I should have said this is not without it’s risks. Occupational Hazard.” Romance, like a viper, plants a lightning fast kiss on your cheek bone, one that has you flinching and wincing your eye closed for protection. Your last words were “Eugh, gloss!!” before the footage cuts.

“Ugh. I’ve tried like three times now to get Mystery, but he’s onto me. He knows what I’m doing, so he keeps running away.” You sigh frustrated, turning on a lightswitch. You grunt as you get down on the floor and flip up the sheets to check under the bed. “Not even here..Huh, that's his favorite spot.”

“My. Easiest. Target. Yet.” zooming in and out on Abby at the sink, washing some rice and doing the most grandpa-at-the-end-of-a-conga-line dance you could imagine. 

Your phone is set up looking across at you and Abby in the kitchen, milling about doing your own thing like busy ants. “Wow, I know you just started cooking but how does it smell so good in here already. You always make the best food.” In editing you screengrab a closeup of the silly, dumb little puppy dog face Abby makes and put a counter down in the corner, populating with a ding! 🐶1

“Oh! Oh!” He says excitedly, suddenly remembering as he runs to the fridge to grab “I got your favorite drink earlier, put in right as we got back so it’d be ice cold for you.” You wrap him in a hug before taking it, “Thanks, Abby! You’re so sweet” He goes to walk away back to his cooking but you grab him by the loop of the apron to halt him for a sec. “You don’t just have the biggest muscles, you have the biggest heart, ya know that? You’re always thinking about everyone else, and remembering the little things.” This time you edit the face grab to add extra blushies but only to obscure the fact he was legit turning pink. He makes a pathetic “Awww” sound like he’s incredibly touched and also in physical pain before all but running away back to the stove. 🐶2

In selfie mode you, Jinu, and Romance are all sitting at the end of the table next to each other and you flip it to the back camera to show Abby sitting scrolling on his phone, spoon hanging out of his mouth level brainless. “One, two..” you whisper..

“잘 먹었습니다 ! 감사합니다 ! (Jal meogeotseumnida! Gamsahamnida!) [It was delicious! Thank you!] Chef Abby!” the three of you chanted in unison, Abby becomes a blushing mess, pulling the spoon out of his mouth as he waves it to ward back the onslaught of love. Too late though because you each chimed in with one more, Jinu with a simple “You’re the best!” while you scream “We don’t deserve you!”  Romance hits him with “If I could eat your food everyday for an eternity, it wouldn’t be enough.” Abby had to drop the spoon to instead shield himself behind his boulder-sized fists, giggling and kicking his legs under the table. 

Some time later, you come up on Abby sitting down, chilling. You come to rest your chin over his shoulder, bringing the camera around to film you both while the other arm can’t help but to wrap around his neck and pull yourself in close. “So, in summary, compliment your boys and they will be soft and gentle. It’s important.” you do have to quickly ruffle Abby’s hair to demonstrate the pliability before hugging back on him. 

“I actually think I would die if I didn’t get at least twenty compliments a day.” His face was serious, distraught. You tipped your head, in thought, “Y’know I do think I remember hearing Dr. Han saying something about that.” Abby beams the biggest, cheesiest smile at you. “Yeah, so it’s medically necessary to spoil me.” 

Suddenly serious though, Abby brings a finger up to scold the dudes on the other side of the screen. “And bros gotta compliment the bros too. Doesn’t have to be a lot. It can be something simple, like -uh” he pops his lips as he takes a second to look around. It’s quick, and he’s nodding his head and turning the finger that was scolding to instead treat it like it's a fishing pole and he’s throwing the compliment down the line. “Nice shirt man, looks good!” 

You slam the button to turn the camera around as you pan to try to find who Abby had seen in the darkness of the hallway. “Who-?” you question before the video ends with a still, barely able to make out the shape of some of Mystery’s silver bangs and his shoulder peeking around a wall. BRUH 😭

So many comments praising Abby as the compliment king, roasting you that you were out here trying so hard and Abby is naturally just that good.

Pt2

Replying to a comment ‘get Mystery pls miss 😢 🙏 he needs it’, it is hovering in a box on the corner of the screen as you record across the dance studio. “My most elusive prey, in his natural habitat.” 

The phone is propped up on a water bottle, facing you as you sit back against the wall, computer in your lap with a planner and notebook open on the ground. You had been putting on chapstick right as Mystery had finally walked close enough, the boys breaking for a quick five, just enough for water and a breath. “You look really cute today,” you were trying to put the cap back on since you had been startled at getting the chance to enact the plan. 

“Huh?” he asks, more as an automatic response than anything, but you immediately fumble and drop the cap, his head turns and traces the movement. Quicker than you can act it's already skittering out of arms reach and all you can do is laugh at yourself and hide behind your hand. Man lunged, practically pounced, but plucked it out of the air like picking a flower. He brings it to you on an open palm. “Thanks,” you readily take it but still have the hand with the naked chapstick up covering your face, laughing about the timing.

“What did you say?” He asks, never having actually caught it. “Oh no!” bursts out of your mouth as it becomes a full on cackle instead of a mere giggle, but you sucked in a breath to compose yourself so you wouldn't have to say it twenty more times, sitting up and looking up at him

“I said you look really cute today!” You can practically hear the short circuit, he immediately starts looking left and right. “Well, you look cute everyday, but like extra extra cute today.” He looks for an exit so frantically that he starts just spinning in a circle and spins off screen like a top. But that's okay, you lean forward, stopping to cap your lip balm so it's not raw dogging out in the world, before grabbing the phone and pulling it far too close to your face “Gottem.”

You film as you walk up to a bedroom door, knocking as you call “Baby! Wanna help me trap Mystery?” There is a loud clattering coming from the other side, but when it opens Baby is standing there looking as blase as ever. “Catch & Release or we putting the old dog down?” You flip the camera to show your scandalized expression. “No! Im gonna make him all shy and blushy with compliments.” “He'd choose the euthanasia.” “Bro”

“Okay, Baby agreed.” “Only ‘cuz he's gonna hate it.” The two of you were raiding the kitchen cabinets and fridge. “Well, it's good he is because the other boys are out and if it was just me sitting and watching a movie- Mystery woulda known,” you swipe the phone up as it gets lost in an armful of packaging. 

The camera is close to your face as you look ready to kill someone, the fingers resting on your forehead are pining down your last shred of sanity before it can escape. “Part of the deal was you choose the movie,” with a flip the video shows Baby on the opposite side of the colossal sectional couch, remote in hand, “S’ not my fault all the movies are dogshit.” Back to you nearly popping a vein in your eye “It's been forty minutes, and you’re going to spend most of the time looking at your phone anyway,” you try to plead reasonably as the plink, plink, plink menu sound trills in the background, before the rustling of you throwing off your blanket “I'm getting more snacks.”

You’re back and you’re beaming. “Secret Weapon! I found Mystery’s fave snack in the world,” holding up packages of whole dried squid. “Not the shredded stuff either, guys. Certified Saja chew toy.” There is a desperate shaky zoom as you close in and show Baby full on gnawing and gnashing one too. “Why are you like this..” you whisper. “Mm, tentacles are the best part,” Baby says like he’s doing a review, then from behind you and making you jump “Is there some for me?” It’s back in selfie mode again. Your eyes are huge as you mouth ‘told you’. 

“Yeah, and I saved you a spot here next to me.” You patted the corner section of the couch, specifically having given him a little three-quarters box made out of you and cushions like a cave he could crawl into. There’s a shuffle as he walks around the couch, but you want to be open and honest so you ask “Is it okay if I record that compliment thing? Just one and just once during the movie- I’ll warn you first too, I promise.” you hold out your pinky and look up at him off camera. There isn’t much hesitation but still a pause before he wraps his pinky around yours, accepting the deal of snacks for humiliation, you yank him by the hand to pull him down and he easily falls into place not bothering to free his pinky even after he scoots into the cushions. “EeeEEee,” you squeal and lean in on his shoulder, excited it actually worked, before clearing your throat and clarifying “There was a lot of little lions asking to make sure you got all the compliments y'know.” Somehow you can tell Mystery is raising both eyebrows dubiously, that and his pursed lips are questioning that statement. 

“Okay, okay, so I had to pause the movie too since I only get one it’s not going to be simple little two-word- so here’s a little blurb” you look over and smile at Mystery with a wide toothy grin as he crosses his arms and pulls a duck lipped scowl, but doesn’t run off. “So you know online how even if we’re typing LOL! LMAOOOO! Or like six crying laughing emojis- but you just” you demonstrate the subtle snort laugh, “Maybe a,” one that almost has a haha in it. “A La Croix chuckle, a giggle you reheated from yesterday, if you will” Mystery is shaking his head. “Well, that's how he laughs all the time,” you have the camera in one hand, while your index finger points up at the target as you lean your back against his arm, “I will be in TEARS over something and all we’ll get from him is a ‘heh’.” You are basically just laying against him now, head leaned back against his chest, maybe kinda a little bit trying to trap him as his face turns red. 

“When something catches this man off guard, the most random shit too, no rhyme or reason so you never know when it’s gonna hit but-” you’re giggling just thinking about it, wearing a smile so big it hurts, trying to conjure that feeling for the fans to have that special little piece of him like you do. “It is the biggest, most joyous-” you stop and do a chef's kiss, before continuing, “like you hear of contagious laughter but this is so contagious it inoculates you. It lays dormant and will have you laughing when you remember it later.” Mystery’s mouth has turned into a wobbly line, you don’t know if it's his lips trembling from adoration or if he’s feeling queasy. 

“That’s it!” you announce, twisting to look up and give him a celebratory pat, “and you didn’t even run away!” He was making some kind of low rumbly whine that sounded like someone had tried to fix a rusted out old car with a leaky bagpipe. “I’m so proud of you!”

That did it though, as he slipped out and shot down the length of the couch just like a bar of soap shooting out of your hands. The video cuts as you wheeze with laughter. Hey! What about Baby?! -> [Part 2]

[secretshamewriting]

CHAPTER ONE

Saja Boys Masterlist here! Demon-turned Producer is called on by Gwi-Ma to consult on a new project- leading to you being the manager on paper, and the maknae behind the scenes, of a group demons with over 2,000 years of experience, and they use every bit of it to make your life miserable.

No use of Y/N or changing the character names, just nicknames. Mostly story/canon compliant but extended for story purposes.

A gentle sun beam glinted off the smooth polished floor of the penthouse suite as the sun slowly rose, dipping around high rises and catching enough of your face to start the gentle biological wake-up call. It was a quiet Saturday, and though you're undeniably awake at this point you lazily roll in bed to find a new comfy spot. Awake, asleep, your life is a dream. 

Maybe later you'd drop by the studio to add just a couple more tweaks to “Delight”, make sure its polished and ready to shine in the Idol Awards- but who were you kidding you would definitely order delivery and crank out work hunched over a laptop instead of over mixers that cost more than a years rent. Just like you used to before your big break.

A lot of people were at their lowest during the pandemic. All of the isolation.. People gave up, gave in to that little voice in your head that only chimes in when you're sad and alone. That's all you did. Was it really so bad? What's a soul really worth when now you can wake up every day not worrying about bills? When the world opened back up, so did your possibilities. You never have to cow down to another employer again either, you know you're good enough to walk to any other entertainment group and get hired. A few more years and you may be opening your own studio with the piles of money accumulating in accounts and assets. 

Back when you were small-time you did everything alone. When you made it you were going to be a soloist like IU or Sunmi or any of those popstars from America where it’s only one name on the board; You did it by yourself so you weren't sharing that spotlight with anyone else. But when you saw the glimmer of it all in pink flames you knew you never wanted to be the one with that constant expectation, for 1on1s and fan events. 

You just didn't want to struggle and starve, and your music was your best chance to be more than an hourly worker, an NPC, told what to buy and how to live. Now you had gotten to break the cycle, have all the comfort to live a life you never dreamed of while you can still walk to the corner store for a bento without being swarmed. 

So after lazing about in bed on your phone for a while you finally get moving for the day. It was early for lunch but you were feeling so hangry and restless, having spent every moment since getting out of bed not wanting to do anything but having all this pent up energy. Even the bright sunny day outside had dimmed as clouds had rolled in off the water. There was that distinct feeling that something was looming.. almost like you had forgotten something, so in a panic checked your calendar and called one of the girls from work just to make sure there wasn't an event today. You scoured and scrambled but couldn't find a source for your anxiety.

Exercise. Food. Then you can complain, you scold yourself. Just as you began to get dressed to go on a run and planning what to stop and grab on the way home, pulling out a drawer with the gentle roll of the wheel was the only sound in the apartment when..

Do you think anyone can beat Huntr/x at the Idol Awards this year?

You blinked. The voice was undeniable, the few times you had heard it would always vibrate, a hollow emptiness in the pit of your stomach.. Of your soul. Well, it really was his and not yours anymore… But- was he asking-- you decided not to worry about the why and just answer.

“They just finished one of the largest grossing world tours in history and immediately dropped a new single straight to #1. When you count--”

You don't have to say it out loud.

“Huh?”

You can think your response because--

“Oh, sorry. Don't really know how this all works still--”

Yeah, because like if someone was in the room with you that would have been really embarrassing.

“Oh my god, totally.”

 But you're new. 

“I'm new,” you say absently while exhaling and focusing on internalizing the communication instead redirecting yourself to start grabbing out your outfit while you do. They're the five year reigning champs. Everyone else is just competing for second. This year my company has me producing SOCI8TY and then I also have ‘Delight’ releasing with--

I've got someone you need to meet. Head to the office.

For a moment you blink, because if the ominous demon daddy voice had an office you didn’t exactly have the street address, so when no further instruction became apparent you were left blinking dumbly in the silence of your apartment. You had to assume it was meant to be your own. Not wanting to disobey you flopped around like a fish gathering a bag while changing and bolting out the door. 

The commute passed in a blink, those clouds had steadily turned from fluffy white cotton to a drab gray, the sky kindly waiting to open until after your quick subway ride and on the short walk from the station to the impressive HQ building. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they didn’t insist on the heavily aesthetic landscaping and needless paths and stairs- sometimes you play into the exec feel and take car service right to the front door but to say you were a little frazzled and just went on your regular auto-pilot was an understatement; minus the usual stop at the vending machines for a can of whatever coffee or energy drink calls your name that day.

Had you not been so rushed maybe you would have grabbed a better jacket or your umbrella. If only you had because several slick concrete steps up the final straight away to the building and with a “CAW” a magpie swoops down out of one of the perfectly landscaped trees, so close it knocks you off balance as you try to dodge with a squeal. 

The world slows as you seemingly begin to topple down the flight of stairs when it jarringly all catches up in a moment when a hand comes to rest on the small of your back, balancing you with ease.  Your heart flies to your throat from the sudden battle with gravity, or maybe it's the handsome stranger that just happened to be coming up behind you. His black hair frames a pair of piercing dark eyes, but he flashes you the warmest grin, immediately disarming you and overriding that ‘how dare’ with ‘hehehe’.

“Thanks” you murmur with a couple quick head bows and adding on a “sorry,” over the internal rush, a blush rising in your face and ears. Simply grabbing onto the railing you quickly turn and keep ascending.

This man kept pace with you, coming alongside you and matching your stride, an umbrella open that you swear he hadn't been holding a second ago. “Sorry,” he interjected, "but would you like to share? I'm heading inside as well.” he gestures with a slight nod, but the way his eyes are focused so deeply on you it's hard to meet his gaze. The final step levels out and it makes you mentally have to release your death grip you had on the railing. 

No, is what you were going to say but once more you make the mistake of glancing up, his pale face and sharp jaw enveloped by the backdrop of the black umbrella blocking out the rest of the world as you look up at him.  “Sure,” drops from your lips instead. Silently, you two walk between a scattering of abstract statues, colorful shapes and textures stacked on a stick like whimsical gyeongdan.

“You a workaholic too? I should be at home but when you've got an idea” You trail off in a laugh while politely offering conversation, relieved the giant glass entrance is not far now. 

“I know what you mean. Especially when you've been working on it for… a while.” You shared an understanding smile before he finally answered your question. “I'm here for a meeting.” 

On a weekend? 

“Oh, with who?” you quickly reply, “I know the talent scouts here so maybe I can give you pointers--” 

Reaching the doors, the man jogs forward enough to grab the door, holding it open. “You.”

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing an umbrella bag to repay his kindness, you turn and reach out to grab the collapsed umbrella from him. You hadn't even heard his answer, writing it off as ‘after you’. 

With a chuckle he steps closer, instead of putting the umbrella handle in your outstretched palm he places his hand opposite, cradling the back. “I'm here to see you.” His eyes flash a glowing amber.

“Ah.” you take a breath to collect yourself, gingerly pulling your hand back like you had to tuck that strand behind your ear this very second. It was like puzzle pieces clicking together, the effect he has and appearing things and himself out of thin air. That magpie was probably a paid actor. “Our business associate told me to meet you, but didn't say anything else.”

“I've got everything ready.” A flash cuts through the sickly sweet demeanor, the ‘I’ carrying a lot of weight. “Gwi-Ma wants you as a liaison. My group will be taking down Huntr/x and the Honmoon this upcoming Idol Awards, to let the demons and the souls flow freely.”

Air hitches in your throat as you glance around the lobby, and while there are a few people milling about, no one is paying the demon or his dripping umbrella any mind. “Do demons always plot out in the open?”

“That's the best place to do it,” then that damn smile again, the idol shine strong enough to melt a glacier. You narrowed your eyes but before you could think about how many entendres he meant--

“If it isn't my best producer!” It wasn't even your boss, or your boss’ boss, it was the CEO himself, old and wrinkled but with enough spirit to drink all of the 20-somethings under the table. 

“Sir,” you greet him respectfully. He was wearing a pastel polo shirt and had definitely been on his way to or from golf. “Any birdies on the course?” and he responds in an all too pleased with himself songbird whistle, eliciting a chuckle from both of you and your new demon teammate. “Please let me introduce you to-” lightly trailing off.

“Jinu,” he takes the CEO's hand, a firm shake and a quick but formal bow. “Of ‘Saja Boys’.”

You stifle a chuckle and hope he didn't notice. However, you can't miss a beat. “Fresh on the scene, and incredible sound. We need to get these guys signed before another company beats us to it.”

“Hmm,” he trills thoughtfully. High eyebrows showing high expectations. “Have Tan Mi-Kyong reach out next week,” he notes over his shoulder to the dutiful assistant following him before checking his watch. He bows his head slightly. “Wonderful to meet you.”

“It was an honor, sir. Thank you.” Jinu places a hand on his chest and bows again.  You catch yourself smirking, he definitely has that respectful, bring home to the family gentleman appeal. Then you notice there is no umbrella or pool of water on the floor and you are left holding the bag, literally. Jinu spins to look at you expectantly while you try to discreetly shove it in your pocket. Not a word is exchanged as you gesture for him to follow you up to your office. 

In the privacy of the elevator, you finally give in to scheming.  After tapping in your badge and selecting the floor, you lean against the elevator wall and size up your new partner in crime. “There’s a lot to do if we’re beating Huntr/x at the Awards.”

“There is no ‘we’.” No hesitance as someone in the industry, saying the equivalent of killing a titan, but that’s not good enough for him. Let alone the appointment he just booked on your good word. “You are not part of the Saja Boys. Gwi-Ma only wants to use you as a tool.” 

A glance at the number ticking up and up, you were nearly to your floor. Jinu seems to be aggressively staring ahead to avoid looking at you now, the laser focus near burning a hole into the metal. His stance was tense, must be from carrying all the weight from the chip on his shoulder. “Isn’t that what all demons are to him?” timing it perfectly to drop that little gem just as the doors slide open, and quiet understanding hanging in the air as you wind through a few short hallways. 

When you step in and gesture for him to take a seat, he immediately scoffs. “Hm. Thought the best producer would have the corner suite.” A note of Gwi-Ma and a hint of your own tone. Admittedly, it was an intrusive thought you had found yourself dwelling on before.

“About six months ago I found out that one of my coworkers had been sleeping in his office most nights.” You lied while sitting to boot your computer, ready to bury this cocky demon in contractual bureaucracy and paper forms. “Wife problems,” you added sympathetically. “And come to find out..secretary problems,” less sympathetic and more sarcastic. 

“Mmhm,” was all Jinu dignified that with. When the suite had opened up after a lifer finally retired from his cushy corner palace, the boss had tried to get handsy after the team's boozy farewell celebration, you shut it down so of course your male co-worker got it instead. 

“Besides,” you grab the stack of papers off the printer, quickly straightening them on the desk before giving it a half-toss to land directly in front of Jinu. “I’m only ever in here to sit down with headstrong starlets that think they know better than the industry and are sorely in need of a reality check.” You leaned back into your plush chair with a delighted grin. 

“The industry?” Jinu chuckles with derision. “What a joke. You realize the rich have been exploiting the poor since the first time someone decided to claim a title. This idol culture is nothing but a new kind of exploitation. These contracts?” He leaned forward to thumb the stack, the breeze knocking a loose business card off the edge of the desk. “Nothing more than getting the unwitting, the desperate, to sign their lives away..”

Your grin had screwed into a grimace. “Oh? A Demon’s Lesson on Ethics and Capitalism in the 21st Century. Send me your dissertation when you’re done with it, but in the meantime..” You sneer dismissively before turning your attention to your screen, beginning to click through more windows, getting folders set up titling them ‘Saja Boys’.

Jinu chuckles. “Even Gwi- Ma doesn’t expect-” he lifts a page full of ‘fine print’ “No dating. Diets. Image Control?” 

“It takes a significant amount of training and investment to make an Idol. This just ensures that the trainees are as invested, and when everyone has the same expectations it keeps it more fair.”

“Fair.” He repeats with a suggestive smirk, absolutely not the word he would use. Before chuckling light-heartedly “Well, it’s good then that we don’t have to worry about any of this. Trainee period, design consults, sound engineers. We’re ready to debut as soon as tomorrow.”  He looks around and sees a small trash can near the opposite corner, and he stands to go grab it and slide all of the paperwork right inside before triumphantly sitting back down with a large grin.

You stare at him. He’s serious. You keep staring deadpan before you crack up laughing. You fight to regain your composure, having to wipe a tear from your eye from the deep belly laugh. You breathe through the giggles enough to start explaining “That’s not--”

Jinu just leans forward, taps your monitor and a glitch flashes over your screen of pixels and colors, a stylized logo featuring a lion head the last thing to shine before your desktop returned. “Wooaah..” you said absently, leaning in closer to the screen, your tone the same as a freshman handed the answer sheet by their buddy “You didn't tell me you had demon magic.”  This definitely confirmed what you had assumed but now its just on full display.

The Saja Boys folder previously empty is now spattered with docs. “You really have been working on this a while haven't you?” you ask as you scroll past five one-sheet profiles, noting Jinu and with one other being an actual name, Abby, you had to assume Romance, Mystery, and Baby were the other members. There were pngs of logos and merch ideas. Meticulous notes on choreography. You sheepishly glance over the monitor to see Jinu with the most cocksure grin staring dead into your eyes like a challenge. “So-” all you can do is shake your head and laugh at yourself, accepting you overplayed your hand.  “How soon can I get you guys in the studio to hear this single?”

“How about right now?” 

Chapter Two ->

[secretshamewriting]

Saja Boys x Reader Masterlist

I promise I am very normal and fine about this movie- but I have tons of ideas so this will be our homebase! All stories will have their own warnings and ratings posted at the top, but as a general rule my content is 16+ ____________________________________

Terms & Conditions - Main Storyline. Demon-turned Producer is called on by Gwi-Ma to consult on a new project- leading to you being the manager on paper, and the maknae behind the scenes, of a group demons with over 2,000 years of experience, and they use every bit of it to make your life miserable. [ 1 , 2 , 3 ]

Meat for The Pride - Blurbs. Feed from The Pride Fanclub / Saja socials. [Treat yo' man like a plant] [Plant Pt2] Benefits Package - Side-stories and smut. Take what you want and leave what you don't. [Change of Plans (Romance)]

____________________________________

More to come, check back soon!

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 6 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 5

Original Link

Viserys POV

Forcefully squinting against the sunlight streaming in with the salty breeze Viserys groaned and rolled in the bed. Burying his face in his pillow he wondered what time it was and why the Seven had seen fit to punish him so. It felt as though the Smith and taken a hammer to his head. Laying there, cursing the distant calls of the gulls drifting in through the opened windows and wishing they would just fall from the sky, he tried to remember the details of the night before.

He had felt restless, eager for his and the Magister’s plans to come to fruition but too nervous to wait. That was until he had seen (Y/N), and the flagon of honey wine. Just the thought of the cloying amber liquid was enough to stir the memories from when he was hugging onto the house fern only hours before. Viserys rolled back over, shielding his precious eyes with his arm, and taking a deep breath in and out to ease his stomach. Some food would do him good, but he would be damned if he was ready to get up yet.

His nose was buried in the crook of one arm but the other languidly moved up where his fingers tapped along to the pounding in his head, thrumming on the bare skin of his chest. Yes, she undressed me he recalled, thinking of his clothes discarded in a pile on the floor. Compelled he asked himself Why did I not command her to get in bed with me? Then the thought of commands got him sifting through the events of the night before, piecing it together. He recalled her hounding him every step here, even after his attempts to send her away, but she hadn’t listened. She had even had the gall to tell him to ‘Stand up’ and ‘Get in bed’.

Feeling unlike himself he wondered why he hadn’t berated her, who was she to give orders after all. HE was the King. HE was the Last Dragon. But it only raised more questions in his mind instead of allowing him to dismiss it. Why hadn’t she woken the dragon? He heard himself say it in his mind, all the times he had used that phrase, usually for less. I should have punished her, but hopefully the wine is doing that for me. However in that same thought he shifted slightly and got a shooting pain, withdrawing it, imagining her feeling as miserable as he did. Why though? When normally he would not only want to share the pain brought upon him but actively planning some retaliation for the insult to his station.

Deciding being in bed, unable to escape from his own thoughts, was worse than the physical discomfort Viserys forced himself up to his feet. He slipped back into his clothes because he had to be presentable, putting on his regal appearances even if he didn’t feel like it. Another lesson his father had always impressed on him.

His first action was to actually slam the shutters on the window, leaning his back against them as he stepped into his breeches. Likewise he staggered about the room as he fitted back into his clothes, but when he sat to put on his boots on he couldn’t help but fall back into the soft feather bed. He landed with a poof, his tired eyes blinking slowly as they traced over the colorful mosaic tiled on the ceiling.

Almost as soon as his head touched back down the thoughts started again. She’s only lied to me once and it was to get me to quit the wine. If only she’d done it sooner..bringing his fingers up to press in front of his ears and rub his temples. Otherwise everything she says is honest, wearing her heart on her sleeve. That or she’s an incredible lair. Either way, I certainly see why she is one of Illyrio’s most trusted agents.

Viserys sighed moodily, again tortured by the thoughts of doubt, if he could ever find someone to trust. Loyalty.. But why try to find someone when you could steal someone. He sat up as fast his weary body would let him, pulling on his boots as he decided to start recruiting some agents of his own.

Forcing himself back into his confident strides Viserys stalked downstairs. First he went to the kitchen, but after not finding the Magister there as he’d expected, he remembered the plea of his stomach. He sat at the wide feasting table by himself, and one of the servants came and began piling trays up around him. “Do you know (Y/N)?” he asked offhandedly as a plate of candied figs was set down in front of him. Too sweet he reeled, feeling as though he would be unable to ever eat anything with honey again, pushing them away disgustedly as the stammered answer came from over his shoulder. “I-I do, Your Grace.”

Turning away from the food he looked back at the girl, it had been the same one as that first night he’d met (Y/N). He could see the fear in her eyes, he could practically smell it on her. “Tell me about her.” it wasn’t a friendly invitation despite the sly grin that graced his face.

The serving girl took a step back from where she had nearly been hovering over the table, resting her arms down to her sides. “What? do you want to know?”  she asked sheepishly, forgetting to be overly polite in her concern.

“Anything” he responded cheerfully, tilting his head to add “Everything.”

Similar requests, similar concerns were shared among a few more of the servants. Each one only offering small tidbits of information, obvious things he’d already learned about her, and most if them he’d heard from her own mouth. That was why when none of the servants had been helpful he was relieved to see her at dinner that night.

It was much the same as the dinner they had shared weeks past, (Y/N) and Illyrio trading stories from all around Pentos, silly meaningless things. Viserys did find himself pausing, waiting for an answer as Illyrio inquired if she had a new job lined up as she was no longer needed at the Khal’s.

With a slight chuckle to his straightforward question she replied “No. I fear the Pentoshii nobles don’t have as many children as they used to.”

She and the Magister shared a deep laugh together, perhaps it was some insinuation about Pentos’ backwards political system. But wasting little time Illyrio proposed “Then why don’t you stay and be a Governess to our Princess. Perhaps you could share some of your knowledge, about Dothraki culture with her.”

Viserys’ attention was drawn away from where he watched (Y/N)’s face attentively to his left side as Daenerys had squeaked like a mouse. He assumed it was because of her fear of the horselords and wrote it off as no more than that. “Yes, that would be very helpful.” he insisted, looking across the table at (Y/N) once more.

With a smile that exceeded being just polite she nodded. “I would be honored to teach the Khalakki Rhaesh Andahli * ”

*Princess of the Seven Kingdoms (Dothraki)

Chapter 7

Index

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 5 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 4

Original Link

Warnings: Vomiting

‘lajak’ - Dothraki for warriors.

Viserys’ stories had become rambling but the way he smiled as he talked about the Seven Kingdoms was enchanting. Only once the conversation had turned to the fond, distant memories of loved ones then to more somber thoughts as the deal with the Khal twisted in him. You had been able to learn, from everything Illyrio had asked for you to watch and Viserys’ sentiments about Dany having a husband instead of him, you had learned the true nature of the plan. It was obvious what Viserys had wanted out of the deal, first hand in the Khal’s own house you had seen all of the fierce lajak. The desire for an army all the more obvious from his mood when he was talking of his ‘home’.

He’d emptied another cup and reached for the flagon but you beat him to it, heaving it with unneeded strength. “Oh, it’s empty..” you lied. For your sake and his. It was clear you’d both had enough and perching over a wall that offered no landing except for the steep cliff and the distant sandy beach below was not the best idea.

“That is too bad” he reflected, narrowing his eyes in a disbelieving stare.

“Perhaps it’s for the best. I am sure you have many matters to attend to, and I wouldn’t want to keep you up all night.” you shrugged, slipping off of the edge of the railing to stand. You had grown stiff sitting there for hours, it hadn’t been the most comfortable chair after all. So you stretched above your head and twisted a knot out of your back, by the time you looked back Viserys had stood as well.

It was some ungodly hour of the night, as even the red priests had crawled to their beds, and the torches in the courtyard below had guttered out leaving moonlight as the only illumination. That was no matter to you, Illyrio’s manse was mapped out in your mind and you didn’t need your eyes to walk about.

“Shall we retire then?” Viserys asked flatly.

“Yes” you responded softly, your body was ready but you would be remiss for his company. It had been quite the evening. “Allow me to help you to your quarters” pausing to chuckle before you mused “For the night is dark and full of stairs.” You giggled at your own clever joke as you stepped forward, delicately reaching with one hand to Viserys’ arm.

The arm he ripped away at your touch. “I can find it myself.” he seethed, taking slight.

“Suit yourself” you shrugged and breezed past him, not willing to argue it. You’d tried to help and if he twisted an ankle, or his neck, then it would be his fault. You knew the steps by heart, finding and gracefully flowing down them to await at the bottom by one of the flowering trees, the fruity fragrance accompanying you as you awaited Viserys.

His voice cut the air, speaking some language you didn’t know followed by some clattering. You slapped your hand over your mouth and held in the laugh as he appeared at the bottom, adjusting his tunic and glaring at you. You slid your fingers down to prop up your chin as you flashed a pleasant smile his way, hoping in the darkness he hadn’t seen the way it perked up at the edges into a flaunting smirk.

Despite himself he smiled back, before haughtily turning towards the front gate. You mirrored his steps, lingering just behind. He glanced over his shoulder as he reached the door, grunting in between words as he tried to pull it open “I..told you..I can.. do it myself.”

Crossing your arms and placing your weight on one leg, jutting out your hip you nod. “I know..but you’ll have to use the side door. They barred that one hours ago.”

Viserys let go of the great ironwrought handle to spin and face you “With me outside?!”

You shrugged “They didn’t know.” you soothed, for his sake and the servants, before gesturing with your head for him to follow.

This time he didn’t protest, just held himself high as he walked abreast with you. “Don’t you have your own house to be returning to?” he asks, the question was genuine not venomous.

You tilt your head to see him looking intently over at you as he pushes through some of the low hanging willowy branches.You smirk and shake your head “Walk through Pentos this time of night? No. Illyrio has plenty of beds.” You hoped knowing you weren’t tailing him and actually heading inside to find your own room would ease him out of his defensive state. It might have worked but you couldn’t tell, just feeling a strange tingle on the back of your neck from the way he was watching you out of the corner of his eye and despite your efforts you cannot decode whatever message is held behind that analyzing gaze.

Pushing those thoughts aside you jump ahead a few steps as you approach the side door. Using your body you block his view as you slip the secret key out from the hiding place in a false brick, pushing the door open after it clicks in release. Turning back around, you gesture Viserys inside while behind your back your other hand slips the key into it’s place.

You ignore his glare while stepping past you, stalking right behind him while shutting the door and flipping the bolt from inside. Silently the two of you walk down the meandering halls. Outside it had been easy to dismiss his unsteady steps for the uneven ground but now on the masterfully carved stone floors you could see how bad he truly was staggering. When he tripped over, something, most likely his own feet, you reacted before you could think as your fingers darted out to graze his shoulder while he steadied himself with one hand on the wall.

“I’m fine” you heard him grumble as he barely shied away from your grip. You drew your hand back to your side and just kept following him, ignoring the fact your room was on the first floor as you took the steps after him. He was obviously not fine, there had been an unsettling gurgle in his words and you knew you couldn’t sleep unless you saw him safely in bed. Didn’t want ‘the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms’ to break his neck tripping, especially when he’d nearly done that once already.  

It was a good thing you did because when he’d reached the top of the stairs, or thought he had, his foot caught the last step and landed him flat on his face and planted his nose into the myrish carpet that lined the steps and the upstairs corridor. You shook with laughter as you lunged down to check on him.

“Get your hands off me!” he cried, rolling away from you and onto his back. His hands rested on his stomach and you could see his eyes spinning and the queezy look on his face.

After giving him a moment’s reprieve you urged “Get up.” Looking down with a smug grin from where you sat on the top step you saw as he shook his head, not speaking but it apparent on his face he was feeling sick and ready to just stay in that spot. “Give me your hands” you cooed, holding out open palms and wiggling your fingers invitingly. Again he shook his head so with a giggle you leaned over and firmly grabbed around either of his wrists and pulled him with you as you stood.

This time you were met by much less resistance, he even wrapped an arm over your shoulder as he found his feet. With a smile you walked him down the hallway, one hand resting on his back and the other with your fingers helping support the arm thrown over you. Until he lurched away, for one of the potted house plants lining the hall. He fell to his knees in front of it and by the way his back was heaving you knew the wine wasn’t sitting right with his stomach.

Solemnly you knelt next to him, stroking up and down his spine. In silence you let things take it’s course, your other hand coming up to gently smooth his platinum hair from his face. You were so quiet that it was easy to hear the creak of a door behind you. Glancing over your shoulder you saw the only other pair of violet eyes framed by silver hair in the house. You tipped your head as Dany poked her head out further from her doorway.

Rid of some of the troublesome wine Viserys just gripped onto the ceramic edge of the potted plant. With a sigh you whispered “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” patting him gently before lifting off your knees. The timid hatchling had scurried back into her room but greeted you with an attempt at a smile as you looked around the edge at her.

“Your brother will be fine” you nodded lightly, trying to quell the worry that darkened her face. With a slight giggle you explain “Too much wine.” By the grimace she pulled you could tell it was not the first time.

Glancing around the room you noticed the dim light of a candle on the table and an open book beside it. She hadn’t been asleep, made even more apparent by the circles under her eyes. “I am putting him to bed. You should try to sleep too.” you say while gesturing towards her untouched sheets. Daenerys followed your motion, then turned back to you with a small nod.

“Sweet dreams.” you offer with a smile before turning. But as you take your first step to return to her brother you’re stopped by her softly stammered words “T-thank you.” Twisting around you throw her a nonchalant shrug, “No worries” you try to assure her hoping she understood that you were being quite genuine.

You strode away back down the hall, relieved to hear the faint click of her door behind you. Viserys was sitting exactly as you left him. So you dropped down next to him, laying your palm on his far shoulder. But at your touch he shot upright, there was a moment of fear followed by, relief? as his eyes traced your face. The color, what little of it was naturally there, had returned to his skin. He looked worlds better. Quirking an eyebrow you asked “Ready for bed?”

Viserys replied with a faint smile, placing a hand on your arm as you stood in unison. His room was only a short distance away as you soon found yourself at his door. He swung it open, stepping inside and taking you with him as his arm was still looped over your shoulders. Amused you glanced around, distinctly remembering this was where Illyrio’s room had been, and was the largest in the manse. Illyrio really is bartering for his favor you thought. The look of the puffy mattress made your body ache for your own, not having a proper night’s rest since you had been spending most of your time in the stuffy and crowded servant’s quarters in the Khal’s mansion.

Eager for some rest you step out from under Viserys’ arm to face him. Knowing he would probably just collapse as he was you decided to help him further, you’d brought him all the way here after all. So your fingers went to the tie at the bottom of his collar and without a word you undid the knots. You could feel the eyes on your face but decided it best not to look and just slid the overshirt off over his shoulders. Viserys did at least wriggle his arms out to offer some assistance, letting it fall to the floor.

As you lifted the loose linen shirt from where it had been tucked in his trousers you wondered how he could stand to wear so many layers. While Pentos didn’t have the reputation of being as warm as Lys, the muggy weather was still oppressive, even to you living there all your life. But thoughts of weather were forgotten as you lifted the shirt over his head, clearing your throat- reminding yourself to just get him in bed so you could go sleep, as your eyes traced down his bare chest and following the faint line of black hair into his last article of clothing.

You focused on keeping a straight face, not belying your sudden nervousness as you untied the laces on his pants. While you tugged them down past his hips you heard the faint chuckle, unable to stop yourself from looking up through your eyebrows at the pompous smirk on Viserys’ face. Scoffing under your breath you just finish pulling them down around his ankles and leaving him in not but his smallclothes. With that you stand, pointing back to his bed as your other hand cups his upper arm.

When he doesn’t move you glance to his face, finding him taken aback, perhaps a little hurt. Tipping your head you state firmly “Get in bed.”

“So, you didn’t-” Viserys mumbled following your finger to the bed before looking back at you.

“I brought you here so you could get some sleep.” you assured, gently pushing him towards it.

He didn’t resist and stepped in time with you. It was barely audible from where he muttered under his breath but you heard him say “I can’t figure you out.” As you reached the edge of the bed he stopped to stare down at you, his amethyst eyes focused into your being and trying to read you as his head slightly turned from side to side. “I’m a King..” you could see there was more to that thought but just gave him a playful shove that toppled him back onto the bed.

“You, Your Grace, are very drunk.” you explained as you wrested the covers from underneath him just to flick them over the top of his body. Out of the corner of your eye you can still see him following your every move with his looking-glass eyes. It was unnerving. Something about their color, like pale lilacs in Spring and his silver-gold hair - the blood of Old Vayria.  There was magic in those features. Snapping yourself out of it you announce “Good night” striding from the room and not daring to take another look back.

Chapter 6

Index

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 4 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 3

Original Link

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol Use

Viserys POV

(Y/N) sprawled on the lavish floor pillows, and continued on as if he wasn’t even there. It was Illyrio who seemed intimidated by his presence, cowing and seeking his approval, wishing to include him. “That’s very interesting, is it not, Your Grace?”

Viserys glanced over to the fat man, waving his fingers to acknowledge in the same instant he turned back to watch (Y/N). She produced a hand drawn map of the Khal’s manse, she detailed the aspects of the party from what wine they chose to each guest. He and Magister Illyrio had been making arrangements of their own. There would be a fine Meerenese silk dress sewn for Daenerys and Illyrio had assured there would be gold and gems to match, everything they needed to show the Khal she was a Targaryen Princess.

He listened to every word, analyzed every inflection, watched every ounce of body language. His father had seen him trained with Varys, the Master of Secrets, when he was young.

The boy must know when they are lying to him. Once there was a time every soul in Westeros feared the Targaryen’s and now they think us fools! Everyone will try to deceive him, and if Rhaegar does betray me- Viserys will take the throne. He must be a strong king. We have to make them fear us again.

A conversation of years long past played in his mind, the raspy, trembling voice of his father ringing in his ears. That night he’d had that gleaming, rabid look in his eyes, the one that always made his mother send him off to study his letters.

They called him Aerys the Mad King. And though none dared say that name in the presence of the young Prince, he’d heard it often enough whispered in the halls. And while he may have been…irrational, the world had taught Viserys the truth of his father’s words. Hidden daggers told him not to trust anyone. The kind words, and eager help that had been offered by ‘friends’. Merchant Princes, Nobles from Braavos to Pentos, Magisters, all had started out open handed enough but that all changed. Their amorous stares, greed of befriending the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, soured to bitter glares as if he was a diseased pauper, a raving mad man. What they didn’t know was that he would reclaim his lands, his throne and then they would regret turning him away when he was in need. He reveled in the thought of the cheese-mongers turning up to him to ask for fairer trade, the spice merchants complaining of taxes, how he looked forward to those days.

Viserys was thankful for his lessons with the Spider. He had learned to catch insects in their own web of lies. The lessons had served him well in the years moving from city to city. How to see one’s nervous twitches when they lied, to perceive if it was an exaggerated truth or straight out fiction. The way someone held themselves and how it belied their emotions, their intentions.

But watching (Y/N) she was nothing but, at ease? Comfort laid in her every word, her honest tone bearing all the layers so there was nothing further to analyze. He still would not dare to speak of his plans with her, he would wait until she left and speak with Illyrio alone. Not that he trusted the Magister either, but he had shown himself to be truly hungry for Viserys’ friendship.

So she shared what she came to share, then politely excused herself. Viserys and Illyrio discussed everything that would happen in the coming month to prepare Dany for meeting the Khal, they talked of how they hoped the night to go, and of days in the future. Once he had heard everything the Magister had to say, he took his leave.

The first stop was to check on Dany in her room. Viserys was delighted to see her sitting there, reading books and for the old gray handmaid who was looming over her asking questions. He strode in confidently and went to read over her shoulder, scooping the hair that was falling into her face so it would tamely lay down her back. “Study hard, sweet sister. Knowledge is a woman’s weapon. Men will always be more powerful with a sword, but your mind should best any man’s.” He stood up straight, smiling at the memory of his mother sharing that little tidbit with him, hoping she would be proud how he was preparing Dany.

A humorous scoff broke the otherwise still of the room as his sister focused on reading, but she immediately broke her attention to look up at her brother, what he’d found funny. “Not that you shall need much wit to deal with the Horselords.” smirking deviously before shrugging and offering “But it’s for every other man you shall meet. I imagine your husband won’t want me around all the time, well enough. So I won’t be able to keep as close an eye on you.” he could see the fear in her eyes. And as much as she might also fear him, the respect and need for his care was greater. The little sister was lost without the older brother to lead the way.

But he knew she was terrified of everything happening with the Khal, she had hardly slept a wink since he’d told her the plan a week past. That reminded him, “And you must sleep tonight. Do you think the Khal wants a girl with bags under her eyes like an old worn-out woman? If you do not I am assured one of the healers can make a draught to put you to sleep, but it’s been known to give terrible nightmares” he leaned his face close to hers now, his voice strained as if he had been telling one of the ghost stories of the Others. Dany squeaked at that and covered her mouth with her hands. Viserys raised his eyebrows and gestured to the bed “Then you must sleep” standing now and walking to leave the room, pausing long enough to add “or don’t think I won’t use it.”

The echoing steps were the only thing to accompany him as he walked the manse. Viserys feebly searched for something to occupy him, when what he really set out for was a way to speed up time so he could see the pieces of his plan begin to fall into place. There was the Magister’s libraries, but he had read all the dry tomes worth reading ten times over by now. He craved a story of Aegon, or Nymeria, something to sate his lust for a concurring force arriving to sweep all under their rule. The Free Cities had their share of conquest and blood, Viserys only read them to gain the experiences of another culture but they weren’t his stories. Regardless of the fact that he’d spent more time away from Westeros than in it, everything across the narrow sea was foreign to him, and always would be.

Eventually his restless mind and wandering feet found themselves walking for the wall. Somehow staring at the sea with a plan in mind made his heart ache less for home, loosened the grip of responsibilities that hung around his neck like a hangman’s noose. Fleetly he climbed the stairs, only to be surprised by what he found at the apex. (Y/N) was sitting atop the railing, one leg dipped over the side and the other resting up on a table. A table that held a flagon and a cup identical to the one in her hand.

“What are you doing up here?” he questioned as he stepped up onto the platform.

Without even looking his way, eyes focused on the beach some yards below, the gentle sound of waves crashing on the sand the only background to her answer “Enjoying a beautiful summer evening.” But now she turned to face him, a smile lighting up her face as she held up her cup, saying with a laugh “and some wine. Care to join me?”

Viserys grasped the stem of the goblet, holding it out “Yes, I believe I shall.” But when he only got an amused look from (Y/N), and she made no move to fill his cup, did his swelled ego deflate. Internally grumbling how he was a King and should never have to pour for himself, having gotten quite used to the aspect of having servants around, he filled the glass anyway.

He threw one of his long legs over the wall to straddle it as well, looking straight across to (Y/N). She smiled again, raising her glass and tipping her head before taking a sip. Viserys joined her in the silent toast and only after she had taken a deep gulp did he try his own. A honey wine. He was pleasantly surprised, a welcome break from the usual stock of sour reds that filled the better part of Illyrio’s cellars.

They finished their first cups in silence aside from the lulling sound of the sea. This time (Y/N) leaned forward, grabbing the tankard and filling his before pouring for herself. The last few drops falling into her glass caused him to look listlessly around for some servant to fetch them more. That was when he heard the metallic tink of the glass being set on the stone “I didn’t think Illyrio would miss one cask”. She had set down her glass to reach for the cloth strewn across the table, flipping it up to reveal it was infact a barrel of wine. He eyed her with surprise, to which she giggled while stroking one hand across the top of the barrel and whined “Poor thing was forgotten, shoved all the way in the back.”

Viserys took a sip and mused “It must have been so lonely”.

“Oh, quite” she grunted as her dagger pried open the top of the barrel. She dipped it down into the barrel, the flagon greedily gulping up the cloying wine and dripping as she removed it. Golden dribbles tracing along the glass to be caught by her fingers. Viserys watched over the top of his cup as she drew them up the length, and sucked the liquid off. She glanced to him as she slurped her middle finger, their gazes met as her face turned bright red under his grin. But that didn’t last as she looked away mumbling “It’s a shame to waste good wine”.

Viserys chuckled at her shyness, only hours earlier she boldly undressed herself, knowing he was there, and now she blushes at his smirk. Hurriedly she used the pommel of her dagger to hammer the lid back into the barrel, reset the tablecloth and the flagon. By then she had regained herself, settling back in to stare across the water. “Tell me” she mumbled quietly, looking out of the corner of her eye to meet where he still watched her every move “of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Feeling as sweet as the wine he mused under his breath “My home.” He swirled his cup, staring into the golden liquid as if it held a story in it’s depths. In a way it did, the sticky sweet taste of honey on his tongue brought forth a memory. “When I was a boy, we travelled to some flower festival, a weak excuse for a tournament and for Mace Tyrell to host my family. There was red tulips as far as the eye could see.“

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise but then softened to a sweet smile. She expected some story of Aegon, or a bitter telling of the Usurper’s rebellion. A story of strong knights and fair maidens..

"We had gardens in King’s Landing, but” he admitted humbly “Highgarden’s did put it to shame. Their’s stretched the entire inner yard, something always in bloom. They even boast massive glass gardens, growing roses even in the depths of winter.”

She was enraptured by the story, tucking her legs up and looking like a child at story time, her eager eyes glued to his face. “House Tyrell’s sigil is a rose. So they grow them in every color you can imagine. My mother and I walked the gardens, gathering one of each. We made a crown of roses and took turns wearing it.” He laughed deeply, a new part of the memory coming back to him “Even my father wore it, to a meeting with Mace Tyrell and everyone was too afraid to comment on it so he wore it around for an entire day.”

That beautiful ringing sound greeted his ears once more, her eyes crinkling as she laughed. “Who would dare question the King about what crown he chose to wear.”

Viserys tilted his head, lifting his mug to his lips to speak into it. “Especially my father” hummed in the glass as he took a sip. Watching her he could see the shining look of intrigue in her eyes, the way she was studying him as well, and took the wiser course of not bringing up any further questions on his father. Part of him wondered if she had heard stories of the Mad King, how much she truly knew about the Seven Kingdoms. Instead Viserys brought the cup down, his wrists resting across his legs as he inquired “Do you know how a tournament works in the Seven Kingdoms?”

Pleased with the new subject she shook her head, her intent stare begging him to continue. So Viserys leaned forward, explaining every intricacy from the reasons why a tourney was held to the customs. In vivid detail he recounted some of the most renowned fights that had gone into storybooks. By the time they were two more glasses in he found himself spending an unusual amount of time on the awards given out, knighthoods or announcing new squires, but most of all about the Queen of Love and Beauty.

It was the wine, it had to be he told himself. But her gentle smile, the way she hung on his every word and somehow still seemed so calm and collected, it was irresistible. Apparently the same as the wine as he finished the bottom dregs of another. He found that he could handle his fair share, especially since his stay with Illyrio where it seemed to flow anytime of the day.

And flow it did as (Y/N) reached for the flagon to fill his cup again, her hand coming to rest on the back of his as she poured. He had told himself to slow down but found they had gotten onto the topic of siblings, perhaps some tournament story of Rhaegar’s, and (Y/N) was describing the little brother she’d had ‘a lifetime ago’. To which he mentioned Daenerys. “I have taken care of her all her life. But she’s thirteen, a woman grown now-”

However he was cut off by with a snobbish laugh as (Y/N) shook her head dismissively. “She is not grown. I have ten years on her and I am still growing.” Viserys eyed her up and down suspiciously, impressed he had correctly gathered her age to be close to his own and then wondering how she had meant ‘growing’. Only the very back of his mind questioned why she had interrupted him, disagreeing with no qualms for his opinion. Noticing this she laughed, looking down at her body before playfully rolling her eyes “Growing, changing. Always learning something new.” He certainly hadn’t thought it was physically.

He shook away any misgivings, moving instead to the deeper thought that plagued him, that look in Dany’s eye earlier when she was studying in her room. “I have been with her nearly every day of her life…” the plans still churning in his stomach, even if he was set on getting back his kingdom there was a pang of guilt. “She won’t know what to do with herself. I suppose she will just listen to her husband not her brother. Still just being a child.” That’s what she was. Viserys had still only regarded her as such, but it was Illyrio who always insisted now that she’d had her blood she was fit to wed. Surely that was true, however he couldn’t help but think of the little who would sneak into his chambers in the middle of the night, spouting stories of nightmares and begging to crawl under the covers with him.

He also remembered of the timid fear that hid behind Dany’s porcelain mask, just earlier that day. She was terrified by the thought of the Khal, the thought that her big brother wouldn’t be around to guide her. She didn’t want this, Viserys still wasn’t entirely sure he did but how was she to understand what they were missing. Dany didn’t have the same drive he did to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms. She didn’t want to read books and study languages, she wanted to go play in the fountains with the other children. But they couldn’t do that. He was the last dragon and she the last Targaryen princess. Their line ended there.

Chapter 5

Index

[secretshamewriting]

Stabilizing.. (Soldier 76 x Reader)

On AO3 Warnings: Blood, Mild Swearing

I have more ideas for a continuation on this, but nothing has been written yet. 

C’mon, soldier. Move! Move! Move! The old days at boot camp always stuck with him, had helped him become who he was. That, and all the chemicals. A long time ago, he had been Jack Morrison, Strike Commander of Overwatch. Now he associated more with the title than the name. Jack had died in the explosion in Switzerland, he’d been to the grave out at Arlington. A Soldier was all he was now, one that went by 76 for anonymity, and the drill sergeant barked in his head “Never leave a teammate behind.”

Your eyes twisted from the laser focus they’d had, looking down the cement hallway at the far end where a door was labeled with reflective stickers like you might find on a mailbox. The old man is rambling again you thought, but looking at the mask that covered him from eyebrow to chin you had no way to be sure. 76 was convinced you had a concussion, so it could all be in your head. You tried looking back at what had previously stopped the world from spinning, but while your eyes trailed their way back down the hall the way you came, you noticed “We left an awful lot of blood.”

“You” 76 corrected in that gruff voice of disapproval. “And besides, there’s a blood stain on the wall by the vending machine. No one saw us, and there wasn’t any shots fired here. A trail of blood means nothing at a seedy place like this.”

True. The only thing this place had going for it was it didn’t charge by the hour, so at least there was that to cut down on the foot traffic.

You watched the splotchy white railing that was fixed to the outward side of the hallway, being eaten away by rust dancing like heat waves off of asphalt in the summertime. There was definitely a major blood loss factor working into your wobbly consciousness. It was a good thing you had the Soldier there, a strong arm around your waist to hold you up since for all you could tell your left side was still not operational, you couldn’t feel it yet anyway. Only your right side worked, the full organics, fingers clutching onto a strap of his shoulder holsters and one leg holding your weight. “We should have had that room..” you mumble to yourself this time, thinking the text of the glossy numbers at the end of the hall matched that on the back of his jacket, if you squint.

The pulse rifle was the first thing through the door, tossed underhand to slightly spring off the closest mattress before settling. In one motion you were lifted over his shoulder and were through the doorway. His other hand pulled the key and slammed the door, and grabbed the medical kit on the table while briskly walking you back to the bathroom. Setting you down on the lid of the toilet the first thing 76 did was activate a biotic field, leaving the device to balance on the far edge of the ceramic sink basin. It could only be so useful, especially with limited charges, but it was the reason you had made it this far.

“First of all,” he stated matter of factly, “if I’m going to patch you up the suit’s gotta come off.”

“Jesus Christ,” you said in complete bewilderment of how you could make such a normally simple task happen. It had been a long day. “I’ll try, sir.” Weakly, and with one hand you unclipped the buckles holding your own bandoliers, and unzipped the HSI armor suit. It was meant to help protect you but now it was your greatest enemy. Even in unzipping it and the flex in the otherwise tightly fitting garment it became apparent that dried blood attached the frayed edges of the resilient weave to the open wounds scattered across your torso and it was already starting to pull and rip.

You had worked it up, not even to your belly button yet, cringing and biting back groans of pain. That all went out the window when it was ripped over your head. You scream in agony while from the experienced combat veteran explains “You’re bleeding out. We don’t have time to baby it.”

You weren’t sure if he was cleaning your wounds with turpentine or what but ever since the suit had been ripped off your nerves alternated between stinging and burning, telling the story of every cut and scrape on your back. Leaning against 76’s leg was the only thing had stopped you from hitting the floor, and even though the smaller nicks’ pain ebbed the larger ones only grew. It didn’t help when they were violated by the point of a pair of tweezers. You tried to rear away from the unnatural feeling but found the old man's forearm had your chest pinned to his thigh. Tink. The soft sound of a chunk of glass hitting the ceramic was followed shortly by more. But you supposed getting thrown through several plate glass windows would do that.

There was no pain meds in sight, and even anything readily available would be more on the side of an NSAID and only make you bleed more. So instead you did your best to tough it out, grunting and groaning, sucking in anguished breaths. He didn’t complain but you were most certainly digging your nails into 76’s leg too hard where you were bracing yourself.

“You’re going to need stitches.” 76 explained, while he eased you up to lean back against the tank. He took a sidestep to open the medical kit, withdrawing the surgical steel needle and the microfilament line. You had done the same for him before, so it was simply time to return the favor. And with a sideways glance he decided to grab the bar of soap too, stating “Here.”

You stared aghast at the green block. “You know I’m gonna be cussing and preemptively washing my mouth out with soap?”

“Not taking the chance you’d bite your tongue off, so shut up and bite down.” all but shoving it into you mouth. Taking the same position you had prior he assuaged you back down to lean against his leg. He was about to start the process, but took the second to give you reassurance. “There’s three that are going to need it. Stay still, and we’ll have this over with quick.”

“Bones heal, pain is temporary,” you said with all the weight of a mantra, taking a breath to calm yourself and finishing with “and scars look good.” before chomping down on what was your improvised bit. The alkali taste already mixed with your saliva, coating your tongue, but it was a small distraction from the pain. Gripping on, even straining what you could feel above your left elbow to wrap behind his knee, you nodded.

You felt the distinct moment the point of the needle poked through your skin, felt the thread sliding through, the two severed sides of flesh touch, and the tug of the knot. Over and over. You had tried to count but instead focused more on biting down, it helped you to dissociate, which was as good as you could do without any anesthetic. There was something satisfying about the waxy feel of it giving way to your teeth.

Scars, 76 remarked to himself as he worked. He had battled the world over, seen some of the worst violence in mankind; some stitches in a bathroom were pretty tame. Still, he worried. She’ll have a few more of those now. The thought brought his eyes away from his work, just for a moment, to flit up to the brazen, jagged line of scar tissue that traced down from the hairline on the back of your neck to your left trapezius. Pulling together another knot he thought how it was one you had carried with you most of your life, that had been your souvenir of the End of the Crisis while he had gotten medals. And now you were going to be covered in them, all because you were foolish enough to help an old man that didn’t know when to quit.

You focused on your breathing, and before you knew it you were done, feeling the tap on your shoulder before the two large hands closed on your biceps to help pull you to your feet.

Instinctually you stumbled to the sink, spitting the soap out to skate around the basin with a deep and complete set of your dental records along for the ride. Handful after handful of water wasn’t enough to get the taste of whatever idyllic spring you were sure was as fake as the Leprechaun on the box out of your mouth. Your tongue still thrust in reaction to the lingering zing of freshness, stuck to the back of your throat it was enough to make you want to vomit even if you couldn’t be that dramatic. You had registered the sensation of gauze pads being taped to your back but it was only as you caught your reflection in the mirror, seeing 76 standing behind you, stoically caring for your wounds.

When had he removed his tactical visor? You weren’t sure, but you took comfort in the small things, sighing as you straighten your elbows to push yourself up off of the sink. You could still remember a time when he even slept with the damn thing on just so you wouldn’t see his face. The feeling of gravel in your skin dug at your forearm, and feeling more confident now that the servos in your left hand wouldn’t give out and send you back down into the sink you picked up and turned your right arm to investigate. A pebble of sticky red glass had made a small indent in your skin, it seemed to like to you, first your back now your arm. You plucked it lightly, and gathered the rest of the handful discarded in the impromptu work area and tossed them right in the trash can.

You used your palm to wipe droplets of water from beside your mouth, and taking a moment of reprieve before saying “Good lookin out, old man.” and taking another breath before offering a sincere, truly from the heart “Thank you.”

“We’re not done,” 76 had a hint of amusement, in the mirror you could see him raise one eyebrow as he explained, “Hate to be the bearer of bad news but your leg is next.”

You looked down, seeing the small pool of blood forming near your heel. Your boot was full of enough blood it had found some way out. Twisting your leg you winced in pain and held onto the sink, groaning “Oh. There is definitely glass in there.” It grated against muscle tissue and nerves. “Thaaat’s gonna be fun.” Sarcasm was always a good coping mechanism. But at least it isn’t in my buttcheek you allowed, already almost doubling over again.

Fingers pushed inside the waistband, and you knew they were about to get the same ‘ripping a band-aid off’ treatment as your shirt had. Immediately you pleaded “The suit is already ruined, just cut ‘em off.”

76 had hated the suit, he thought it made you act like you were tougher. More foolhardy than anything. But you had adored it the moment you came across it one of Helix Securities bases, and it was the first time you felt like you had a real uniform. You had finally been really, really ready for combat. Shhhrrrip! The blade of the knife glided right through the fabric after the initial yanking, saw motion it took to start.

“Their mach 2 better have some improvements. This armorweave was shit.” You spoke just to say something, trying to be casual, even to take your own mind off of the fact that was now settling in. You hadn’t been down to your skivvies in front of the Soldier before, even though there had now been months of you sharing hotel rooms all over the world. It had never come up.

Embarrassed, in mismatched bra and panties with half of your ass hanging out, you looked to the ceiling and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears that tried to well up. Not even so much out of shame, or your lack of confidence in your body image- even if it was a turbulent pool of several confusing emotions. It was more about concern. Concern for the man that was showing you so much right now. You gripped onto the porcelain of the free standing sink much like he had been your anchor previously as again the point of tweezers dug into your skin.

76 grunted. “Looks like it shattered. This might be ugly.” Not that he couldn’t fix it up, but there was going to be a lot of digging in tender meat to get at all the shards. Tightening his grip on the handful of thigh he had, he gulped and took another appraising look at the gash.

A hiss broke into a dry sob as you felt a particularly barbed piece slide out, and you could only guess some flesh went with it. “I’m sorry,” you blurted it out as a new wave pain came crashing down to not help your watering eyes. You meant for everything, but the fact that weighed on you most in this moment was that “The mission was a failure. We didn’t get what we were after..”

Readjusting his grip, coming at it from a new angle 76 used his thumb and the blade of the hand holding the tweezers to pull the wound apart, able to see even the small pinpoint of the foreign object glistening in your blood. He glanced up, questioning your sentiment, because he had a new mission: Getting you all patched up.

“And I’m really sorry.” You were only digging yourself deeper into misery at this point. “I.. unh- agH!” Maybe talking wasn’t the best idea but you wiped away the only stream of tears you were going to allow away before clamping your arm tighter onto the edge of the basin, the cold seeping into your skin. “The spider tank-- I. I didn’t know what else to do.” Reactivating what had been a previously disabled piece of hardware that had been somewhat of a museum piece for remembrance and stored for safekeeping inside of the warehouse you had raided, and was now a pile of scrap-- it had been your only play when the troops closed in.

You didn’t know much about Soldier: 76, but you did know he was a former Overwatch agent. That he had fought in the Omnic Crisis. And more than anything you worried that activating a raging omnic killing machine designed for one purpose…. Might have hit him too close to home. Several times in your travels his PTSD had been apparent, and though he didn’t seem to have been bothered by it you weren’t exactly in a state to assess someone else mentally, and you were drowning in guilt.

“It was a last re-” you sucked in a breath mid-word as your nerves lit up from toe to cranium, feeling the metal against glass against meat. “Resort. I … just hope it-it didn’t…” You trailed off as you didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. How do you show respect to someone you probably just made relive Hell on Earth? You had no idea.

He’d thought he’d seen it all. Lived it all already. But here, bared and bleeding, him with the necessary yet torturous job… through the pain your anxiety was for his well being. You were worried you had done him some sleight, when the fact was you had singlehandedly saved both of you with that stunt. Just the kind of thing he used to do.

Under his breath, and entirely to himself he expressed his own sentiment with a scoff, calling you a “Sweet girl..”

Before long he had his sweet girl taken care of, all wounds closed and dressed. He left you standing at the sink, returning with a clean shirt from your suitcase that he helped pull over your head. He held your arms as you stepped out of the other leg of your pants that didn’t get cut off of you, and stabilized you as you kicked off your boots.

Guiding you to the bed, 76 chastised “You need to rest. But no sleep for..” looking to the watch on his wrist and approximating the time of the injury “two and a half more hours.”

You nodded, weary, even more tired now that you felt the welcoming embrace of a mattress.

“What can I get you from the vending machine?” his tall frame stooped low to the ground in a squat to look eye to eye with you.

“Cookies?” You weren't hungry, but knew he was going to make you eat anyway; with the blood loss you needed fluids to replenish it and sugar to replace where your levels had surely dropped through the floor. You couldn't recall the poor selection available so you offered a few options. “Doritos? A coke?” As an afterthought you smiled and added “Thanks, old man.”

The TV clicked on, to what channel you couldn’t even guess. “Remember, no dozing off.” 76 chided, before storming off with purpose and leaving you with your thoughts that were jumbled and vague. It did serve to help you remember however.

Panic struck as he returned to the room and you weren't where he’d left you. Standing in the doorway he took the obligatory look around to access the situation. It was quiet and you couldn't have gone far. The sweep of the small room quickly turned up with you sitting on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the bathtub with one arm perched on the rim, your tattered suit pulled close, and the field computer sitting on your lap.

“I forgot” you had started to explain before you were interrupted by the rough, you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself tone.

“What are you doing?”

“I recovered a data pack,” you announced proudly, lifting it up for proof, “and the EMP didn't fry it or anything! There is some corruption but mostly it looks like--”

The cord that tethered the data pack to the laptop pulled it from your considerably unimpressive grip, and 76 snatched it up as it fell. He grabbed the computer and still with an armful of snacks he carted it to the other room to set on the table. You were the second load.

Unapologetically you were plopped back down onto the shoddy springs. 76 gathered your pillows into a stack to prop you up before handing you the remote. A buffet of snacks rained down to the empty bed beside you: three bags of non-dorito chips for your selection, a sleeve of lightly salted peanuts, and a whole package of mini Famous Amos cookies. “No coke?” you poked while ripping open the bag of crunchy Cheetos.

“Juice.” 76 replied flatly as he settled in a chair, propping his feet up on the long, squat dresser that also served as TV stand and pulling the laptop onto his legs. “The point is to get hydrated.”

You scoffed and made an uppity face you were sure he saw out of the corner of his eye, before settling in and flipping through channels. Nothing was on, of course, so you settled on an old John Wayne movie as a placeholder, going back to surf on commercials just incase anything had changed. It didn't.

A rough pat on the fleshy part of your leg awoke you from a nap you hadn't realized you started taking. “Not yet,” 76 checked his watch “Thirty-six more minutes.”

You groaned an acceptance and popped a cookie in your mouth as you hit the channel up button again. But really you watched as the Soldier settled back into his spot, ripping off a bite of the beef jerky that made up his dinner while moving the computer back onto his lap. With the occasional click, and lots of scrolling he scoured the miscellaneous administrative reports housed on the old piece of equipment. He might have found something good, you hoped he did, as he picked up the fist sized rectangular hunk of metal and turning it over to smirk at the fading Overwatch insignia on the back.

You had no idea but for his reality this nostalgia was worse than fighting an Omnic tank, and he tormented himself with it all the time. This was his mission now, his new war after Overwatch had been disbanded was to uncover what had happened to it. He lived in old mission reports, data logs, even invoices, and it never failed to put him right back in the old HQ. He could still remember exactly what his office looked like, the taste of strong coffee that got left on the burner too long as he read through briefings.

He got lost in it, and by the time he looked to his watch it was twenty minutes past the four hour mark for your concussion and there you were dozing off once again. 76 resigned himself to the fact he’d found all he was going to today, and as usual he still hadn't uncovered anything he wanted. So stripping down out if his gear, 76 showered and prepped himself for sleep.

You stirred when you felt the mattress shift, finding 76 kneeling beside you. The soft look in his eye gave you a hint to what kind of shape you were really in as he checked with a penlight how your pupils dilated. He began the interrogation with the standard name, date, location. You got the last wrong, but since you two were always on the move it seemed fair to give you that.

“Are you feeling dizzy?”

“I’m sitting,” you sat up slightly from where you had slumped to nap, “but no vertigo.”

“Ringing in your ears? Spots in your vision? Nausea?”

You shook your head in response to all. Then 76 touched the tip of his nose with his left index finger, then the right, then left again and you mimicked it just as he wanted.

“Headache?” he asked, already assuming the answer.

“Yes but all of me aches, it's not exclusive to my head.” You stretched a bit despite the howl of your nerves, covering your face with a bit of your hands before nestling back. There was one thing that concerned you, that you know you better bring up now before you get yelled at about it later. “I… still don't have full feeling back in my left side.. The nerves, wiring..” you corrected “The EMP may have spared the drive but my mechanical parts…”

You glanced down to your left side, articulating the gears of what had been your left hand for the last twenty years, a few mods aside. You raised and lowered your left leg, the metal knee stark compared to flesh that sat above it. They functioned but you could feel somehow it wasn't right. Instinctually the next place you checked was to slip your hand around the base of your skull, doing your best to hide your fear as you looked up into the eyes that had seen so much. “Am I going to be alright?”

“Well,” 76 started, but he was neither a doctor or an engineer, “as far as the concussion I think you’ll be fine. But I am going to wake you up through the night to check on you anyway.” You nodded in agreement that that was the best thing to do. “And.. tomorrow we’ll find an Omnic to fix you up.”

As much as he was a grumpy old man, the mix of worry and assurance on his face was nothing short of touching. You smiled at him thoughtfully before a yawn broke it. Wiping your eyes and rolling over you disassembled the pillow stack, tucking one between your knees to keep the bone off of the steel. The others were a combo for your head and to snuggle. Entering optimal sleeping position as the bed groaned from 76 standing up.

There was the whisper of another hand on another pillow, grabbing the one he kept for himself as any excess was always funneled to you. It was followed by something quite unusual. “Is it okay..” the voice normally full of confidence and command was unsure, tentatively posing “if I lay here? To keep an eye on you.”

You had just been slipping under part of the covers while now wondering if you should pull them down further for him. “Uh-huh.” you bobbed your head along. You knew he never slept with covers, he always ran as hot as a furnace, but still had to question it in the moment. Saving him and yourself from any more awkwardness than the day already had to offer you rolled over and closed your eyes.

The springs creaked in protest as the tall man curled down on the other side than yours. His back was to you as he faced the door and the clock on the nightstand table. Clicking through his watch he quietly announced “I’ll wake you up in two hours to check in…. Good night.”

“Night.” you mumbled into the pillow. Though you wondered what sparked the fact he was going to stay so close when really anywhere in the room wouldn't have been much different, but it was a comfort leaving you feeling safer and more secure than ever. That and the green light to finally sleep, you didn't wonder too long before you drifted off.

The same couldn’t be said of your bed companion. Try as he might to clear his mind for sleep, it never came. Instead he was flooded with memories of Reyes.. Ana… Press conferences came back to him unbidden. Protests from the final days of Overwatch, civilians gathering in the streets to wave signs and yell at him. Everytime he pushed a thought away a new one came to take its place.

As much as he told himself Jack was dead, his life constantly bled into the new one he had tried to fabricate. Even recalling his days, more than a lifetime ago, back on the farm didn't help. His parents were dead, and he hadn’t gotten to attend their funeral because for all they knew they’d outlived their son. The family farm was gone, some company snagging up the land. Summer days off school and working from dawn to dusk on every chore imaginable was washed away in the tide of corporate greed that was as much a part of Overwatch’s fall as the abuses of Blackwatch.

Peeking open an eye to examine the face of his watch, it had only been twenty minutes and he had skimmed the footnotes of some fifty odd years. 76 sighed, and propped up on an elbow enough to turn and appraise your sleeping form. You had basically forced your way into his little operation here, and now you were indispensable. Over time he had cracked, at first not wanting you to be anything more than an asset, but he sure as hell missed having a team. Knowing he had someone to watch his back, and someone he was responsible for too- it helped ground him in the present instead of being a ghost of the past.

But he was a stranger to you, and for that fact he barely knew anymore about you than you knew about him. When he woke you up in an hour what was he even going to ask you? How old were you when you lost your limbs and parents in a terrorist attack?? That was the most personal thing he knew, and even asking in a way where it was worded like ‘What was the name of the Omnic that saved you?’ it was still too close to bringing up the single most painful memory of your life.

If only he knew something simple like ‘the name of the street you grew up on’ or ‘favorite flavor of ice cream’... No. With you two questions to assess your mental acuity that you both knew the answer to were better left to operational codename Q&As.

He made a mental note to take the time to get to know you better, know more about you than just this, the next time you were stuck in a car for twelve hours. The sun was starting to rise, businesses were opening, and the day could get started with the hunt to find an omnic to repair your prosthetics- but he also wanted you to sleep as long as you were able. So, he was just going to take this two hours at a time.

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 3 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 2

Original Link

Warnings: Nudity 

"Aaaaah" you sighed as you settled down into the steaming liquid, the heat seeping into your bones. For a time you just sat back, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost. Coincidentally, it also heightened your hearing, your ears picking up the tiny scuff of a boot. Waiting for more steps to follow you didn't startle, or even flinch, just smiled as they never came.

You had noticed Viserys up on the wall, saw him nearly walking on your heels through the side door. Smirking wickedly you carried on as normal, slipping out of the water just enough to grab the rough sponge. Lifting one leg above the edge of the tub to scrub between your toes and the entire length down. Repeating the process again. You scrubbed between your legs, moving languidly up your torso and giving your breasts extra attention to put on a bit of a show.

When you had cleaned everywhere else you leaned forward, craning around, twisting and stretching to scrub your back. With a chuckle and a sigh you called out "I know you're there, you might as well come out." even though you weren't sure if he still was, you hadn't heard anymore noise over the sloshing water.

But then came the usually sure voice, strung through with hesitance "You knew I was here?" You heard him before you saw him, Viserys lingering out of sight until you answered back snidely "Well you're a King, not an assassin."

He stepped out from the doorway, his face downcast in shame- from peeping in the first place or being caught you didn't know. He raised his head just enough for your eyes to meet, one of his dark eyebrows raised in question as he asked "The whole time?"

Your face was drawn up in a sly smile, tilting your head and explaining "Since the wall."

He matched you with a sly smile of his own, his confidence surging as he strode into full view, standing in the middle of the room just shy of the tub. "You knew and didn't say until now?"  his voice peaking seductively.

You laughed nervously, you couldn't say why you had let him stay, why it didn't bug you. It wasn't hurting you at all, so you'd figured why confront it? Perhaps you wanted to tease him. Instead of answering and trying to sort the confusion into words, you changed the subject. "Well, it's a good thing. I sent away the servants, and I can't scrub my back. Would you-"

The friendly demeanor soured, Viserys brows furrowed his features turned harsh. "That is beneath me." he barked, haughtily.

You took it as a grain of sand, shrugging it off dismissively and stating "Or not." So once again you contorted, this time to run the sponge across your shoulder blades and down your spine. Viserys' violet eyes watched you, but now from his spot in the open, his rage subsiding with each movement you made.

By the time you lifted yourself from the tub he was mesmerized. Water dribbled off your skin to the smooth stone floor, and with an eyebrow raised you walked to stand in front of Viserys. With a motion you gestured behind him, his eyes following it to the towel laying across the table. Focusing back on you there was the same privileged defiance gleaming in his eyes, but apparently his mind didn't communicate it to his arm as it slowly reached behind his back, blindly grasping until it found the rough fabric.

His pale hand came up to offer it to you, and you took it gladly. Turning as you dried yourself you walked to the closet. This had been the room you had lived in, and there were plenty others in the manse so Illyrio had left it for you, a chest of drawers filled with clothes and the odd trinkets you collected from your youth remained scattered about. You wrung your hair in the towel and you saw one such laying on the squat dresser that sat next to the chest. A pewter cast eagle talon, but with some imagination it could be a dragon's claw.

You dropped the towel to the floor, sliding open a drawer before choosing a nice plain linen tunic. Once the fabric was pulled over your head you stepped into your smallclothes before searching for a pair of trousers. You slid them on and as you were securing a belt around your waist you heard the tone of disgust from behind you "You look like a boy."

You chuckle and grab the metal talon, tossing it's weight lightly in your hand. "I'm just meeting with Illyrio, it's not like I have to dress to impress." You flip your hair out of your face as you spin to face him, shrugging and grinning like a jackal.

"Well, there is someone there you should try to impress." Viserys remarked smugly, tipping his head.

"Oh?" The metal trinket lands in your palm as you toss it once more, this time you tuck it into one of your pockets before strolling around the droplets on the floor and the large brass tub. You even stepped past Viserys, pausing in the doorway to look over your shoulder at him. "Perhaps I should attend the meeting in the nude then. Would that impress this someone?"

Viserys chuckled under his breath, a wide smile gracing his face and softening his features. "It certainly wouldn't hurt" he comments playfully, stepping up beside you.

One step at a time you two walked abreast, you tilting your head to look up at his face, still glowing with that charming smile. "I wouldn't want to distract from the meeting." you say dismissively, slightly shaking your head at the idea.

The friendly back and forth continued down the hall where you found Illyrio lounging in the study, snacking on a tray of dates and a block of hard cheese. From the Magister's surprise you gathered Viserys hadn't been invited, and such was not the first time he included himself, so the Magister said nothing other than to wave him in.

Chapter 4

Index

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 2 (Viserys X Reader fic)

Chapter 1

Original Link

Viserys POV

The negotiations were infuriating, but the glimmer of hope of reclaiming his lands, his throne- were becoming more real than ever. He sat on the terrace overlooking the sea, closing his eyes to imagine the salty sea spray on his face with a fleet of boats behind him loaded overbear with Dothraki screamers.

The prospect of marrying Dany to the Khal still tied his stomach in knots. ‘Dragons do not mix with the beasts of the field’ he had heard his father say when it came time for Rhaegar to wed Elia. However dragons were a rarity in this world anymore, even before the Usurper threw the world into tumult they had resigned to marrying for allegiances instead of the age old Targaryen tradition of wedding brother and sister.

If Dany must marry the Khal to buy me an army, so be it. Even if I had seven sisters I would marry them all off if it meant I could right the injustice to our house.

Even without a true house to call his own, seeing as it was beyond the water he now stared across with a fat bastard lounging in his ancestral chair, the burden of leading the Targaryen family was something that had hung heavy on his shoulders since he was only five years old. At the beginning, when they still holed away on Dragonstone, he had the lords and knights still loyal to his father. He'd still had his mother. But like everything else in his life that didn't last.

The call of a gull just overhead shook him from the dark recesses of his mind. He sighed grumpily, running the smooth flesh of his thumb over the rough stone parapet he was leaning against.

Picturesque flashes of his father's face, and his brother's haunted him. The feeling of tiny insignificance as he would stare up at the dragon skulls mounted on the wall. Well, only physically because inside he felt larger than all Westeros, repeating over and over to himself ‘you are the blood of the dragon.’

He smiled to himself as he remembered the time his father had been off, observing some tournament, and he'd slipped away from Sir Gaunt who had been guarding him and trailing the young Prince's every step.

Viserys had found his way to the eerily quiet throne room, his only company were the eyeless skulls staring down at him and the fearsome, twisted throne of blades. He knew all the stories by heart, even all these years later, marvelling at the thought of dragonfire bending the countless swords to Aegon's will. But he also knew of the stories few others did, the cuts and gashes that scarred his father.

As a small child he'd shown hesitance standing before the Iron Throne, timidly running his palm across the seat. He lived that in his dreams most every night, sometimes he would come away with a deep red slash bubbling enough blood to fill the Red Keep, sometimes his entire hand had been lopped off. But last night he had dreamed it again, and not even faltered as he strode up the plush crimson velvet carpet to lounge on the throne.

He was finally on the right path, years of torture and degradation were going to be washed away with a forty thousands arahks flashing in the sun.

A creak sounded through the courtyard at his back. Viserys spun and paced to the other side of the pathway atop the wall bordering Illyrio's estate. The woman he had seen a month past padded through the lavish garden, picking her way to the servants door. A smirk played across his face, he would be lying if he denied the impression she had left on him.

Her curt response, and prompt departure had left him speechless. It was a good thing she had left when she did, for she had woken the dragon and one of the serving women had paid for it. He had been enraged, how dare she deny him the information that was the hinge to regaining his life.

But in the following days he became jealous of Illyrio, would anyone say the same of him? Could he ever trust in someone's unfaltering loyalty? Betrayal and mistrust was a taste he knew well, for he supped on it often, but it was still bitter in his mouth.

The woman had come and gone several times over the past few weeks though the meetings had become more discreet and it seemed today was time for another. Feeling rather impish Viserys ducked out of sight and crept to the stairs. Trailing a maiden was not Kingly behavior, and normally if he had an interest in any one of the Magister's pets he would just order them to stay in his presence, but he knew even if she would humor Illyrio's request to comply- it wouldn't do any good.

And it was a rush, going against everything he had been taught as a young Prince, the way he had to carry himself, having to be proper at all times. His heart beat fast as he crept through the manse, sticking to the shadows, pressing his back to the wall and staying several yards behind her.

One of the servants walked from a side room, nearly tripping over Viserys. He seethed but bit back the words, glaring down at the scared mouse of a girl before his eyes darted up to see if his cover had been blown. It hadn't, the flowing green skirt over swaying hips continued down the hall before disappearing around a corner.

In the back of his mind he was concerned what would be said of him sneaking about, stalking one of Illyrio's confidants. Then his boldness swelled, his steady self assurance returning- who was he to care what others thought, especially the common rabble. "Out of my way" he cursed under his breath, his shoulder crashing into the servant as he brushed past.

The Magister's voice echoed off the hall "(Y/N). I am glad you are here."  Viserys halted on the other side of the corner, tipping around to see where the two had met in the hall.

"You reek of horses!" The Magister recoiled dramatically. He was one to speak, he covered the pallid smell of his flesh under heavy perfumes.

But any thoughts of the intolerable Magister were forgotten as she laughed, the sound dancing in his ears. She threw her head back merrily, a hand pressed to her stomach as she chuckled. "I know! I have a nose."

"Before we speak let me have a bath drawn for you. If you are finally free from spending time among those Dothraki, you certainly shouldn't smell like them." Illyrio waved her down the hall.

She walked side by side with him and commented "I think I'm going to miss it, truth be told. They are quite fun."

"I am surprised you could -" his voice fell out of earshot.

Chapter 2

Index

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 1 (Viserys X Reader fic)

Hello everyone! I am reposting this from my old account, since I am going to have this be my exclusively writing/fic blog while the other continues to be a garbage fire. All the new chapters will be posted here! The old link here.

Warnings: Very Mild Swearing

The high walls of the estate loomed ahead while behind you the cries of the red priests rang out as they sang their night prayers, echoing into the darkness. You had entered the manse freely, the servants knew you well, offering smiles and kind words. You were always respectful and caring to them so they genuinely treated you the same.

A serving girl walked past you, arms stacked with empty dishes. You didn't need to ask where the Magister was, at any given hour he was never far from food but the signs of a feast brought you to the dining hall. The great windbag billowed on as he always did, it was a surprise how much talking he did that there was always something new to talk about. Through the sheer curtains you could see into the next room, able to see he was with guests.

However you disregarded common manners and only hung outside the doorway for a moment before entering the room. Not lacking common sense that normally would have stayed you but the Beggar King and the Hatchling had been living here for several months now and these meals were a nightly occurrence. If anything you assumed they would be happy to have a distraction from the incessant rambling.

"Magister Illyrio." you strode in and offered a straightforward introduction before turning to do a light dip and addressing the silver-gold haired siblings "Your grace, and princess." Dany, the Hatchling, eagerly returned your warm smile. Her brother watched you with his sharp hawk like eyes, as if he were sizing up prey.

"(Y/N)!" The Magister's deep voice echoed. He gestured towards the table, specifically the ornately carved high back chair to his left, insisting "Join us! You are just in time for the fish course." You smiled courteously and settled into the lumpy cushion, folding your legs underneath yourself.

You could feel both sets of amethyst eyes on you, the girl's stare was a curious one but the Beggar King's gaze was harsh and analyzing, you could feel the air of frustration that no explanation had been given as to why you were privileged enough to join them. You set about telling lighthearted stories, from the market to the court. Illyrio's booming laughter shaking out the crumbs from his golden forked beard, and the Hatchling giggled along. You were thankful for that, gods knew how little she had to be merry about. That was apparent from her brother, only scoffing and adding snide comments to your own.

After the second pass of sweets made it round the table, the Magister finishing an entire tray of fig pastries himself, it seemed the meal was done. "(Y/N)" he called offhandedly "Help me to my study, won't you?" You agreed by grappling his massive hand and pulling with all your might to wrest his fat folds free from the chair as he steadied himself with a push off the table.

You gave a respectful nod to the noble siblings, wishing them a good night without a hope of reply before you disappeared around the columns and deeper into the manse. Now was a time for a different genre of stories, those offering deep insight into one's actions, the political game of cyvasse. Illyrio had seen you employed at the mansion of the Khal, helping be an intermediary between the Pentoshii and the horselords.

You led him back to the study easily, you still had the estate mapped out in your mind from the years you had spent there. Your father had attempted to sell you into slavery to pay his debts, but you had escaped from the exchange. Living on the streets you had been scouted by the Magister's other agents to be a little bird, gathering tidbits of information. You had proven quite useful, and worked your way up the job list. Using your innocent appearances and sweet temperament got you where ever you needed, and your cunning had alerted Illyrio that your talents might be being wasted as merely a pair of ears.

He had seen you housed under this roof, and given access to his impeccable library. You had taken to languages like a fly to shit, mastering several of the dialects of the Free Cities, the common tongue of Westeros, and enough of the Dothraki language to pass for orders, though conversations eluded you. You even knew enough Ghiscari to tell the foul mouthed sailors what they should use their mouths for instead when they called down at you from the docked ships.

From there you had become a Governess, teaching languages to the children of the noble houses. That had been the past few years of your life. In fact the current Prince of Pentos had been one of your students, which would only make it that much harder if the next crop failed or whatever weak excuse the Magisters concocted to choose a new Prince.

But since he had shown such kindness, offering you a life better than you could have hoped, when Illyrio had called upon you, you had answered readily. You didn't share the same qualms as most of the distinguished linguists, and the horselords barbaric ways didn't phase you, so you had been perfect for the job.

You knew the pair in the next room was the reason for your stay among the Dothraki, and though you had not been explicitly told the reason you had gathered the Magister's grand plans for a deal between the powerful Khal and the Beggar King. So you and Illyrio talked for hours about all you had seen, everything you'd heard, what you had learned of the Khal. He gave you a specific list of what he would need to know before he treated with the Khal, and you were glad to oblige.

"Sweet child, should you like to stay here? It is so dark and I would die of sorrow should anything happen to you walking home at this hour." The fat man gushed as you made to leave.

You snickered and shook your head, your mind keenly aware of the dagger strapped on your thigh. You had used it before and you knew you would have to again. He took your rejection in stride, offering instead "You know there is always a place for you here, (Y/N)"

"You have always been nothing but kind to me Illyrio, and I truly appreciate that." your face brightened in a kind smile, letting it linger as you left the heavily perfumed presence of the Magister. Your footsteps echoed through the empty halls, most of the servants enjoying what free time was allowed them at night, but it did not bother you as you showed yourself out.

As you strode into the entry hall you saw the figure sitting with their back facing you. The gentle swooshes of a stray hand playing in the pool, sending flashes of light dancing across the vaulted ceiling. The unmistakable silver-gold hair shining in the light of the oil lamps. You quieted your steps, nearly halting before attempting to  tiptoe past on the balls of your feet.

"Wait" his voice freezing your muscles when it touched your ears. Languidly he took his time sliding off the raised edge of the pool, standing to his full height before he turned to face you.

You scoffed timidly, shrugging and telling him "I am sorry if I disturbed you, Your Grace." You knew he had eaten that up, nothing infuriated him more than any perceived slight. The servants had told you all about the fact flattery would get you everywhere with Viserys.

"I am glad you did." he soothed, but you could hear the edge in his voice like a hidden knife. With steady steps he paced over to meet you, though his eyes darted nervously down the hall. "Tell me" his confident voice lowered to a whisper "everything you spoke of with Illyrio."

You looked down to your feet, hoping to hide the smirk creasing your face. You’d heard he acted entitled, a king without a crown. For a moment you considered how you would carefully word your refusal for the best possible way to weasel out of the situation. But something compelled you to speak as if he were anyone else, why give him special treatment, dance around him like everyone else did. "No" you stated firmly, bringing your eyes up to meet his in time to see them narrow.

You could see the internal struggle happening behind the purple glass of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but instead you offered your explanation willingly "I am loyal to Magister Illyrio. He has been nothing but kind to me. Besides, he would surely like to speak to you about it himself."  with that you stalked off to the door. Glancing over your shoulder as you pushed open the heavy solid oak door where you saw that he stood still, staring at the space you'd occupied, head cocked to the side. Not wanting any further confrontation, signing yourself to whatever backlash may come later, you hefted it open just enough to sneak out.

Chapter 2

Index

[secretshamewriting]

[Dr. Stephen Strange x Reader]  Once Upon a Dream

On AO3

Someone's broken into the Sanctum Sanctorum and is trying to enchant Stephen... No, wait, it's just his disciple desperate for attention.

Warnings: None

Based off of the song  from Sleeping Beauty. 

The lilting had been muffled and indistinguishable when the sorcerers had first come through the portal into the Sanctuary, a bastion of protection for the dimension, and in the heart of Greenwich. A look to his right at Wong who replied with a shrug, and Doctor Strange put a jump in his step as his ears strained to make any words of the chant..

“ and I know it’s true, but visions are seldom what they seem.. ”

Up the stairs, approaching the main entryway of the old mansion and the great room that received it Stephen looked on, bewildered, though now feeling as if he should have expected it. Your voice rang in the ceiling as your footfalls rang on the floor singularly, tracing circles over the Seal of the Vishanti as the other pair of boots that joined you made no noise. Hovering above Valtorr’s empty boots and in your arms was the Cloak of Levitation and though it had no body to shape around it swayed to the tune as well as any dance partner.

On your next turn round you noticed the good Doctor and Wong staring but only dipping your head back as you came around again and not missing a note.

“Once Upon a Dream” Stephen notes, looking at Wong and giving him the ‘obviously’ hand shrug. “Sleeping Beauty. It’s a classic- 1959.”

Wong’s only response was a vacuous empty stare before looking back at you while you kicked up your heels and took off in a low glide thanks to the Cloak pressing in on your sides. To prove him wrong you risked the register break to your lower into your modal voice and sing closer to the 2014 reimagining. Your toes touched the floor again as your tone danced up and down in the bridge of the song but you quickly lost the music to a howl as you were unexpectedly dipped down. If the Cloak had a face you would slap it for scaring you.

Wong and Strange snickered at you. “What are you doing?” With all his degrees you would think it would have been more obvious to him.

“I don't know,” you answered truthfully bemused, clearing your throat and gripping onto the flippant lapels before pushing into a more complex step pattern “Maybe I’ve gone mad! ” You chuckle at yourself before picking up the melody again.

Wong shook his head, commenting reassuringly “You were already there.” bearing wide around the edge of the room and pivoting at the banister to start on the upper staircase.

Stephen went to follow him but was cut off by a furrow of red rudely stepping in front of him. Free hands in the air, too preoccupied to move them to your sides you held onto a phantom as you stared to your feet to watch the boots beat your every move. To your credit, they were magically imbued. Valtorr must have danced women off their feet.

Pushed in unwillingly, Stephen cut in in a shower of orange sparks as the boots vaulted out of the way. It was not a smooth transition and you immediately had your foot ground under his. “Sorry,” he winced “It’s been quite a while since I attended a gala.”

Not accepting the self doubt that washed over him you put on your best doe eyes and started anew. “You know, I’m really not supposed to speak-” you couldn't keep a straight face “to Strangers.” Not able to hold it back nor having any desire to you chortled along.

Stephen rolled his eyes so hard it probably flipped some alternate reality on it’s head. “Very funny,” but a smirk undermined the snide remark.

You smiled into the first few notes of the song as you hopped back in, holding your right hand up for the ballroom hold and draping your left lightly onto his right shoulder.

“I guess I’m supposed to say” tweaking an eyebrow in mock he played your game, taking your hand lightly and placing the other on your shoulder blade and stepping into a basic waltz. “‘But don't you remember, we’ve met before.’ ‘You said so yourself’.”

Previously you had been doing the melody but returning a volley of eyebrow raising two fold and took the perfect timing to add the words “ Once upon a dream. ”

From the landing above you heard Wong’s patronizing voice, calling behind him as he continued on into the Sanctum. “You two are so cute together.”

“Hey,” Stephen faltered defensively turning to cast an eye in his direction. “Hey!” This time it was barked obstinately as one of the corners of the high neck on the Cloak of Levitation pushed his face back where his eyes met yours. They didn't stay long, darting to the left as you closed more firmly on his trembling hand. You urged him into some more of the complex waltz steps.

You sang “ I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream. ” in the midst of performing a seamless underarm turn leading into the face to face, the distance made up for by the fact both of his palms were pressed into yours. They jittered in your grip even though you could tell he was making as much of a conscious effort as he could to steady them. The hold on your right hand that continued to lead you through steps you left alone, but with your left hand you twisted your wrist away from the mirrored position so you could slip your fingers between his. In soothing motion you traced your thumb up and down his metacarpal and hoped he understood that you didn't want him to hide it. You adored it, actually, it was part of what made him: him.

You closed the step, regaining the closeness as Stephen spoke. “Now, you’ve seen me in your visions before; you're not trying to warn me are you?”

“I’ve been dropping hints..” you muse playfully but feel a twinge of anger at yourself. In truth you badgered him about it and never had a care to hide your feelings. You had not been subtle and dreaded it would make him hate you; yet it afforded you moments like this and as many times as he had never taken the bait he continued to indulge you so, it was all worth it.

Without you providing the musical ambiance Stephen began to hum in time while leading you into a foxtrot step. It only took a moment for you to recognize it, not even able to look at his face as you gazed somewhere not even on this plain focusing mostly on the steps and the sounds, mumbling through a grin “The Way You Look Tonight.”

In a promenade the two of you used the open floor to its advantage, you joining him humming along. However in the middle of a corner step there was a woosh and suddenly you were left holding an empty cape. He had danced you to the stairs then split, already a third of the way up them and explaining “Unfortunately, I have work to do.”

Clutching the fabric to you, the willful object allowing you to cart it along as you sped after him. “I’m sorry. You should have said- I didn't -”

“You wouldn't have. Besides, it’s fine, it's nothing imminent.” he assured, twisting back to look at you as the Cloak drifted over to find its place again around his shoulders.

From the direction he was headed you could only guess what might be happening, and no matter a time frame, it couldn't be good. “The orb?” you fretted.

“Uh-huh” Stephen countered lightly as if it could have been anything else.

Entering the room, a special parlor on the third floor meant for no other purpose than to house the Orb of Agamotto, you found Wong staring grimly into it’s depths.

“Iiiiiit’s imminent isn't it?” your attitude falling through the floor.

“Afraid so.” Wong studied the conjured images.

Stephen took a sideways glance at it but was already using the sling ring to open a portal.

“Can I help? My training-” you tried to offer.

“No” the answer was short and definite.

Wong stepped beside him and spoke “Well, I-”

“ You will stay here and guard the Sanctum.” And as soon as the words were out the portal slammed closed.

Throwing your hands in the air you paced a circle of frustration. “Why does he always do this?!” You cursed.

“You get used to it.” Wong retorted dryly settling back in to watch the events unfold on the interdimensional live stream.

[secretshamewriting]

Introductions are in order

Hi everyone!

I made this blog to be a much easier and less of a clusterfuck place to collect my writing. Most of it was posted on my original blog trollmblr5000, but any new works as of today will be posted on here. Here is also a link to my ao3: secretshamewriting.  First things first I am getting everything in order and there will be lists and pages for each fandom and links, buuuuut it’s a work in progress.