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ferris-the-wheel · 8 months

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TWST relationship headcanons!!

Info: Six months after you start dating the respective character.

Author's note: The characters were chosen by a friend at random (with no context). I'm also still on Chapter 6 of the main storyline and don't know much about the main Diasomnia characters' pasts, so these hcs will take place before then, I guess?

TW: Maybe a tiny bit of angst(?)

When you two first started dating, he was so happy that he couldn't sleep. He was actually surprised to find that he hadn't randomly fallen asleep during the day as he normally did.

After that, he'd spend a lot of time around you, concluding that it was because of you that he didn't fall asleep.

Since he's basically the adopted brother of Malleus, he undoubtedly has at least some money. He likes to buy you surprise gifts so that he can see you smile. which makes him happier as well.

He invites you over to Diasomnia a lot (encouraged by Lilia), which he's perfectly fine with as, as stated earlier, he likes spending time with you.

His favorite pastime is sitting somewhere where you two can see the stars at night like a balcony or somewhere where there are a lot of windows (though he prefers being outside).

He's such a good boyfriend, I mean, he was raised and trained as a knight. If someone is giving you trouble, expect Silver to give them a very stern talking to (with or without Malleus beside him as incentive).

He's a very calm and comforting presence, making you feel better if you're feeling down and cheering you up.

I don't think he'd mind PDA, but I feel like he'd be a bit more reserved with it, so he'd settle for holding hands while you're walking or stuff like that.

He's very pleased that you agreed to date him, but also very sad. He feels like a bad person because he knows that by dating you, you'll eventually grow old and die while he'll live on. He thinks he's depriving you of a "normal life" with another human.

You've worked very hard to convince him that he's the one you want to be with and that you don't want anyone else.

He spoils you A LOT. He'll splurge a shit ton of money on fancy dates, gifts, and other things. He spoils you to the point where you have almost no empty floor space in your room, so you had to ask him to stop spending so much on you (though you felt bad about this because of the expression on his face).

Aside from that, he's extremely loyal to you. Despite your reassurances, he thinks that at least if he's going to deprive you of a mortal love, then he's going to pride himself in being the most loyal boyfriend (hopefully husband later) ever.

He's very happy that Lilia approves of you and that you two get along. He enjoys walking in on you two hanging out and genuinely appreciating each others' company. He's also very grateful that you help prevent kitchen disasters by monitoring babysitting Lilia while he's "cooking".

I don't really think he'd exactly know what PDA is or what qualifies as PDA, so he'd just walk up to you and either a) act as normal or b) be a bit affectionate such as a kiss (on the lips or cheek, he doesn't care) or he'd wrap his arm around you. If you aren't a fan though, he'd refrain from doing so.

His personality made it very hard for you to trust him in the beginning, as he's very sly, but you eventually learned to trust him more. He'd be happy if you were rich but he'd empathize if you weren't. He doesn't care if you have a lot of money a lot, as he definitely isn't rich either.

If you give him something (especially food), he'll be extremely happy. He'll be even happier if you give him enough to feed his community back home. Give him some donuts and he'll be in heaven, literally wondering what a crook like him did to deserve someone like you (just for giving him donuts).

He may feel bad dating you since you can give him things like food and other presents while he can't really afford to buy things for you or take you anywhere. He does extra tasks for Leona in exchange for money, but you wouldn't let him spend it on you and told him to save it or give it to the people back home.

Therefore, he shows his love by hugs, stealing quick kisses on your cheek, goofing around, and snuggling (if one of you is in the mood). He'll randomly grab your hand while you're walking or carry things for you in the hallways, little things like that.

I think he'd be impartial toward PDA, he'd base it off of your preferences. If you aren't a fan of PDA, he'd dial it down to when it's just the two of you. If you like PDA or don't mind it, he'd be doing the things above (cheek kisses, hand grabbing, hugs, etc.).

How you managed to even talk to this dude in person, that's a mystery. You probably met on the internet and wound up meeting that way. But now that you're in his life, good luck trying to get out. He isn't used to people showing any form of affection toward him (or human interaction in general), so once you become what he considers a friend, he's not letting you go easily.

Once you start dating? Oh yeah, you are never getting rid of him. Not to say he's clingy (that's a lie, he's a bit clingy), but he'd be texting you constantly wanting to know if you want to game or Netflix and chill.

He's not exactly a romantic but you don't mind (or hopefully you don't if you're dating Idia). He isn't a big fan of physical touch, so quality time is likely the way to go. I hc that he's a very snuggly person despite this, when he's in the mood. I think he's a little spoon (he's too awkward to be big spoon).

He's like, the most loyal guy ever (I mean, he never goes anywhere and doesn't talk to almost anyone). You would never have to worry about unfaithfulness with this guy, he's wayyyyy too attached to you now that you've infiltrated his little gamer den (and his heart).

PDA? Banish the thought from your mind. This is Idia, he doesn't leave his room unless absolutely necessary. If you wanted any PDA from him, you'd have to fight all the phantoms in Tartarus/the Underworld (and maybe not even then) for him to want to do anything like PDA. If PDA is a must on your list, Idia is not your guy.

Hiii! How you guys doing? I hope you enjoyed this post. I'll post part 2 innn..... three? four days? Hope you don't mind. You can send whatever requests you want (as long as they follow my rules)! Bye~~!!! 🧡

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randomnumbers751650 · 2 years

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This is a follow-up to my previous post on One Piece Film: Red and Uta.

I feel what makes the tragedy so effective is how ultimately there was absolutely no malice in any of the characters that set off the events: Shanks just wanted the best or Uta and shield her from trauma, Gordon just loved music and Uta just wanted to sing.

I know that Shanks is the second biggest mystery of the series – the One Piece itself being the biggest – but even for someone who never saw the series, the movie does depict him as a force for good. So, when someone sees Uta’s flashback scene, they ought to realize there’s something wrong. Shanks was younger and, arguably, less mature when he did that decision.

From what I understood, he assumed that Uta would never sing again if she learned the truth, so, in order to make her dreams real, he took the blame and shame of being the responsible for destroying Elegia. Even if Uta hated him because what she thought he did, he just still loved her. This would qualify as “noble lie”, but…it didn’t work. Well, it kinda worked until she learned the truth.

Gordon also was such an interesting character. As a king and lover of music, he couldn’t destroy Tot Musica’s sheet. This is a unique type of error, an error so unique that nobody in the world, but him, could make. He admitted that, while sobbing, he couldn’t destroy it because he just loved music. So, when the Straw Hats, especially Usopp, told him he was still the best father figure he could to Uta, that scene really hits different.

But I wonder if destroying Tot Musica’s sheet would make any difference. Tot Musica itself isn’t really a character. Would it be difficult to have it sprout cheesy one-liners while declaring its world-destroying intentions? It is eerily silent, in spite of all the song it makes. Instead, Tot Musica is more of a force of nature than anything else. As much as you can’t bargain or converse with a hurricane or an earthquake, you can’t bargain with Tot Musica – it seems to be a demon born from music itself and all the sorrow and madness it brought along, along with all its joy and happiness. Tot Musica was attracted by Uta’s singing and the sheet just appeared to her, as if it was fate happening. So, if Gordon had enough fortitude to burn the sheet, what if an identical sheet would appear besides him just to mock him? As long there is music, Tot Musica will lurk in its shadow.

So, only a person who loved music a lot could be its vessel. As I said, Uta picking the cursed sheet was something almost inevitable. There was no devil tempting or goading her. It was her fault for something that wasn’t even wrong – memes of “did nothing wrong” abound, but this case earns it. And since she was possessed and destroyed Elegia out of her love of music and accident, not out of malice, the guilt would’ve break her. This explains Shanks’s decision – it was a wrong decision, but it wasn’t a 100% wrong decision.

And when she learned the truth, she broke. The weight of her guilt and shame just broke her. Without anyone to talk about her feelings, she saw nothing but despair in her future. And, as a performer, she had to combine her desire of making everyone happy with her music and her suicide into a spectacle. Even in her despair, she still wanted the best for the people, independent of anything that made them different (I think it’s kinda funny that the audience started to realize there was something wrong when she antagonized a terayubito).

But, even so, I felt she was never satisfied with her decision. Despair and sleep deprivation made her quite unhinged, but she still wanted someone to help her. Rewatching the scene where Shanks finally appears, she seemed to quickly smile out of relief, before resuming her character.

I talked to a friend of mine about it and she said that the plot seems to be following the “kisshotenketsu” type of story. In that, there’s not necessarily a “moral”, but the story is structured around a set-up and then overturning everything you knew with one big twist, and the consequences of that twist. In this case, the real story behind Elegia’s destruction, and how none of the three main characters involved had absolutely any malicious intentions. And the entire movie isn’t about redeeming Uta - as much as it is Luffy's objective -, but dealing with the consequences of that tragedy. Still, Uta was able to regain control of her destiny in the end and spare the world from the consequences of her actions, even if it cost her life.

It’s obvious the road to hell is paved in good intentions, but without good intentions there’s no way out of this road.

#one piece #one piece red #one piece film red #uta one piece #uta op #this movie makes me feel things

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themadhalewrites · 2 years

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My Angel's Baby

Fandom: NCIS

Character/s Included: Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 385

Having been trained by your father you had tried to find your husband after he went missing but after every lead, you had dried up you decided to call your father for help.

“Hey, dad I have a case file I need you to look over” I said before adding, “I’ll be by in an hour to drop it off to you”

I never liked having to ask him for help because it made me feel less of an agent even though I knew I was probably more qualified than people wanting to get the job at the bureau.

I found it easy to get through the gate for the NCIS building since I hadn’t changed my last name with my marriage.

“Ah, Miss Gibbs. Your father said you were coming.” The guard of the building said stepping aside to let me in.

It was in the elevator that I remembered that I hadn’t told my father that I was pregnant simply because over the last month I had been focusing on my part-time job on top of that the search for my husband who also didn’t know of the baby.

Walking into dad’s office I went straight to his desk and placed the file down on it before taking a seat in the office chair behind it.

It took my dad only a few minutes to come and take the case file off his desk. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before calling his team about the case.

It took a few sleep-deprived days for my dad and the team to find what I was missing as well as cell phone tracking but they had found it.

I was hoping for good news but I knew it was bad as soon as my dad walked over and gave me a big hug while mumbling “I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

At those words, I broke down mumbling my own set of words “I can raise a child on my own, he didn’t even know he was going to be a dad”

My dad pulled away and frowned before pulling me back into a hug “You can move in with me, we can make the spare rooms into yours and the baby’s rooms. You are not alone you have me and the team behind you.”

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writingwithcolor · 4 years

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Announcement: No Longer Answering Rubber Stamp Questions

Introduction

Here at Writing With Color, we’ve noticed a shift in the questions we are receiving. In the past, the majority of questions challenged the necessity of diversity in fiction or asked for assistance in making diversity seem more plausible in world-building. We also received many questions on how to describe and characterize people of color in respectful ways that didn’t demonize different races, ethnicities and religions.

By and large, we see that our followers understand why these concepts are important, and for that we congratulate you! This kind of progress takes real, long-term, internal work. Our team hopes that any advice or input you received from us over the years has helped you continue to develop as a writer. We hope you will continue to support us in the future and are especially pleased to hear from our non-white commenters who have let us know when our content has let them feel seen or heard.

However…

We have noticed a recent trend in asks that is discouraging. Many askers seem concerned with receiving our blanket approval of a particular concept or character. These asks often don’t provide us with the direction and context crucial to providing advice from a race or ethnicity-based perspective. Examples include:

“I’m writing a character from [insert background] who has [insert traits]. Is this ok?”

“I’m creating a world where I have made [insert concept] the basis of my world-building. Is this allowed?”

Hi, I’m a [insert identity]. Is it problematic to have [concept/ character] in my story?

“I’m creating a [Race A] character with [these] traits, a [Ethnicity 1] character with [those] traits, a [Race B] character with [some other traits] and a [sex/ gender minority] character with a [different set of traits]. Is this combination offensive?

We call these questions rubber stamp questions. If this describes your question, there’s no need to feel bad. We realize that there was never an explicit explanation of this concept. In addition, our team is mindful of the changing demographics of tumblr that might make it mean we are receiving questions from a younger user-base are not yet familiar with many of the principles we outline on this website. However, on that note…

What is Rubber Stamping?

Rubber stamping refers to the practice of seeking an endorsement without questioning or seeking to alter the status quo. The purpose of Writing With Color is to be a focal point for discussion about diversity in writing rather than simply prescribe a series of corrective measures. Without knowing the asker’s intent (Which we can’t, since we aren’t mind readers), our moderators are not in a position to provide you with carte blanche for your writing concept in the name of all other non-white people. Yes, we have a certain level of skill and expertise on many of these topics, but we are not here to take on the burden of all PoC to approve your writing choices. Nor would it be fair to other PoC if you took our response as a reason to dismiss the perspectives of other PoC (An unfortunately common phenomenon).

Bluntly, on the moderator end, these asks are also incredibly frustrating because they are vague and thus:

Time consuming

Labor intensive (mentally and emotionally)

The last example from the previous section (AKA “Laundry lists”) is particularly time consuming because multiple moderators must collaborate to produce an answer that boils down to each moderator saying, “I guess it depends??? *shrug*” but in slightly different ways.

Perhaps the biggest problem with rubber stamp asks is they feel (to us) like they are more about the asker’s desire for closure/ approval/ virtue signaling than a willingness to participate in the kind of education and discussion on diversity we are trying to foster on this blog.

To that effect: We will no longer be answering such questions.

(If you sent in such ask before this goes up on November 15th, 2020, a moderator may reach out to you individually to better address your inquiry as submitted.)

However: Don’t worry! We also are here to teach you how to makes these questions better!

Fixing Rubber Stamp questions:

1. Be specific.

Instead of Can I/ May I, try “How can I” or “When can I” or “What can I”?

Thus instead of: “I’m Christian. May I create a Jewish character seeking to become an actress in 1920s Hollywood?” —> “How do I, as a Christian, create a compelling Jewish character while being mindful of the interplay between my own intrinsic bias and historical accounts of prominent Jewish figures in early Hollywood?”Or, instead of: “I want to write a story about a modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, but with magic. Is this problematic? —> “Given the continuation of modern day piracy in the East Indian Ocean, what are some tropes I should avoid if I decide to go with a modern fantasy set in this region?”

2. Remember: The goal is improved understanding, not approval. Sometimes, you really just want to know *why* you can’t use a particular concept, and that curiosity is good! Questions that ask “Why?” in good faith are often how you can learn a lot about your own intrinsic biases and the limits of your own knowledge.

Thus, instead of: If I write about [controversial topic], am I a bad person? —> Why is it better for someone like me to not write about [controversial topic]?

This approach has the bonus effect of making us feel like you actually care about what we think.

3. Write your question as a draft: Edit your ask at least once or twice to provide as much information as possible while being concise. I’ve told this to college students before, but I can tell when a person wrote their assignment by the quality of the writing. Writing done late at night, when sleep deprived and without at least one edit contains extraneous information while not having a clear point.

Going through your question (Preferably a day after you wrote it) will help you narrow down what you really want to know.

Remember: You all have free will and can write whatever you please. We presume that you seek WWC’s input because you wish to write on issues pertaining to people of color with greater levels of awareness. On a practical note, we recognize that social media, trolling, call-outs, doxxing and other dimensions of cyberbullying make writers online hesitant to do anything unless they think they have the majority of the public on their side. There are times when it is obvious that the asker is asking more because they need approval to feel less anxious when they share their work with others.

However, if the above is your worry, either you aren’t ready to write on this topic or you need to rethink the boundaries you set with the online communities/ individuals you interact with as well as how you manage your internet presence. With respect to personal anxieties when it comes to writing, morality, your conscience and so forth, we recommend turning to your own support systems IRL. As relative strangers on the internet, we are not well-qualified to allay personal concerns.

Remember: Writing with diversity is like training for a marathon. Give yourself permission to expand your comfort zone at the pace your research capabilities and experience allow!

We appreciate that you all trust us to provide helpful, well-thought out feedback for your ideas, and we also thank you for respecting our perspectives even if you may disagree. In the same vein, we request that you put the level of thought into your questions you think appropriate given that another human being is going to spend, at a minimum, several hours coming up with their response. We look forward to hearing from you!

- The WWC Team

(A link to this article will be added to the pinned FAQ for everyone’s reference)

#WWC #Announcements #Housekeeping #FAQ article #Rubber Stamp #Question Guidelines #Updates #WWC Updates

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

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Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: None yet. Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you.

MASTERPOST

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed @satingrass-maidensfair

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans.

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days.

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor.

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down.

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it.

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little.

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages.

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word.

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand.

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived. “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you.

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.”

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.”

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming.

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?”

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it.

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked.

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for.

“I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy.

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk.

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.”

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head.

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect.

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again.

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping).

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency.

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to.

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited.

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves.

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on.

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall.

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours.

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it.

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again.

He stood back up, so you did as well.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out.

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos.

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs.

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh.

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?”

“I guess I should be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them.

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile.

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off.

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?”

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.”

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull.

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?”

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.”

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

#josh fic #josh kiszka fic #josh x reader #joshxreader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #brightest blue fic

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lemonjoonah · 4 years

Text

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage.

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14.

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure.

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes.

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-”

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response.

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.”

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down.

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs.

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips.

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door.

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all, please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter. Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?” You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father.

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers. “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it.

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water.

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station.

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material.

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.”

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice.

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-”

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern.

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?”

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.”

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included.

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you.

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him.

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.”

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism.

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.”

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.”

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.”

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.”

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now.

“There’s nothing else.”

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence.

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation.

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.”

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him.

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin.

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage.

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.”

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.”

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too.

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s existence then what right does he have to disagree?

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.”

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid.

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.”

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.”

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl.

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?” Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?”

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment.

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release. “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away.

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern.

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice.

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?”

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly.

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns.

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.”

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you.

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it.

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.”

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being.

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step.

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath.

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap.

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed.

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor. As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence.

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself.

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles.

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side.

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you.

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed.

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?”

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before.

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?”

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned.

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.”

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing.

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands.

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste.

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air.

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway.

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure. Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?”

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day.

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin.

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?”

“My secretary...” You give in with a whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers.

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits.

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation. Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin.

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion. He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually.

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so.

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung.

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis.

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left.

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off.

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent.

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside.

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor.

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.”

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”

“Why... why are you doing this?”

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.”

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.”

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...”

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop.

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

And Stuff

AN: When you decided on a life of academia, you’d never expected to meet someone like Spencer Reid

Characters: Spencer Reid Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

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

You hated this stupid paper, you really really did. You stared blankly at your screen, reading and rereading the same two paragraphs in the vain hope that something would stick, but it was all gibberish.

“Hey, there’s my favorite PhD student,” a familiar voice called, collapsing into the seat beside you, “coffee?”

“Please,” you sighed gratefully, wrapping your hands around the disposable cup and taking a deep sip. It was perfect, just warm enough to shock some life back into you, “I owe you one, Prof. Reid.”

Spencer wrinkled his nose distastefully, and you laughed.

“I told you I hate that,” he said.

“And we both know that’s a lie,” you teased back, “you love being called Professor.”

“By my students,” he admitted, “not by you. How’s the thesis outline coming along?”

You sighed, “it’s not.”

“Can I take a look?” Spencer asked, reaching out towards you.

“Noooooo way,” you said, closing your laptop quickly, “not until it’s done.”

“But, Y/N-“

“No, Spence! It’s terrible.”

Spencer stuck his tongue out at you but didn’t press the issue as he pulled a stack of unmarked essays out of his satchel. You and Spencer had met a few years ago, when you’d both started a BA in philosophy. It was your third undergraduate degree, but like Spencer’s hundredth, and you’d bonded over your love of academia almost instantly. By now, meeting in one of the common areas to study and work together was almost a ritual, twice a week at least, every week of the semester. You loved it, you relied on it really. Without Spencer you were sure you’d have lost your mind years ago.

Spencer couldn’t always stay long, after all he was still a hot shot FBI agent, but even just the little bit of time you did have together was like a breath of fresh air. You both looked forward to the chance to talk about something other than your jobs for once.

“I’m sure it’s not, Y/N/N,” Spencer assured.

“Mhhm,” you said unconvincingly, “what about you? Did you get your epistemology paper in on time?”

“Oh yeah. I’m not sure anything I wrote technically qualifies as an argument, but it’s done.” Spencer replied, his eyes tracing the papers in front of him at lightning speed and marking as he went

You could see the signs of exhaustion on his face and your stomach pinched with concern. Spencer was a genius, you knew that better than anyone, but even he wasn’t immune to the stresses of university life. He was always burning the candle at both ends, taking on more than any reasonable person could ever hope to accomplish, and that was before he started teaching an intro to criminology class. It worried you.

“Spence?”

He looked up, his eyes still glassy and faraway, the hint of a smile on his lips, “Mmhmm?”

You frowned, “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

Spencer nodded, “Did you know that some studies have shown that an adult man can actually survive on as little as two hours of sleep a night without showing outwards signs of exhaustion?” He rambled, gesturing at nothing with his hands, “Sleep deprivation will, of course, affect your mental capabilities over time, but the amount of time that process actually takes is fairly individual. In my case-“ he looked over, noticed you raising your eyebrows at him, and laughed, obviously realising just how tired he was. “Yeah I’m a little tired,” he admitted, “it’s just been a long week that’s all. I was up for a few days for a case,,” he nudged your shoulder with his, “you know if you took me up on my offer I’d probably have more time to sleep.”

“Me? Join the FBI?” You scoffed, shaking your head, “No way. I’ve never even held a gun.”

“Neither had I before I joined.”

“Yeah but you’re-“ you gestured in his general direction, “you know.”

“I’m what?”

“You know,” you huffed, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment, “strong. And brave. And stuff.”

Spencer laughed but he looked pleased with himself nonetheless, “you think I’m strong and brave?”

“And stuff,” you clarified, “I’m an academic. I’m perfectly happy in a dark room with my dusty books and manuscripts, thank you very much.”

Spencer nodded, stealing a sip of your coffee and grimacing at the taste, “is there any sugar in this at all?”

“You tell me,” You answered, “you bought it.”

“Well there’s obviously not enough, you can still taste the actual coffee,” he said, just as his phone started to beep frantically.

Spencer took it out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. Your heart sunk a little but, when Spencer looked up at you apologetically, you shot him a small smile.

“Duty calls,” you said simply.

Spencer nodded, packing his stack of papers back into his satchel, “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I’ll see you back here on Friday?”

“Sure,” you agreed, “if you’re back by then.”

“And you’ll send me your thesis outline when you’re finished with it?”

“Of course.”

Spencer wrapped one arm around your shoulder, giving you a quick hug, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Enjoy your day.”

“Good luck, Professor,” you smiled, waving him off, “and thanks for the coffee!”

He waved back at you, half jogging and already on the phone as he vanished into the incoming crowds. You watched him go, sighing sadly as you turned back to your unfinished outline.

“Okay, Y/N, you can do this. Spencer’s written like three of these, let’s go.” You muttered, “The psychological implications of linguistic progression, think.”

You threw yourself back into your research, losing yourself in the methodical nature of your work. The coffee next to you got cold.

————————

Spencer was flushed by the time he made it into the office, his cheeks hurting with the effort of suppressing his smile. Time with you always did that to him, no matter how drained he was when he first arrived.

You were like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise very gloomy day, and ten minutes with you was better for his mental health than a whole weekend’s worth of sleep. You were sweet, and funny, and you let him ramble about whatever he wanted to and even pretended to listen. Meeting you for coffee every week had become more than an act of friendship, it was an act of self care, a thin thread holding what was left of his sanity together.

His phone chimed and he smiled down at the message, a picture of you sipping your coffee and giving the cameras a big thumbs up:

Go kick some bad guy ass, Wise Guy!

He started typing up a reply but, before he could, someone interrupted.

“Good date, Pretty Boy?” Morgan greeted.

“It’s not a date, Morgan, you know that,” Spencer replied, fondly, “it’s just coffee with a friend.”

“Oh yeah it’s totally not a date, just a biweekly coffee hangout with someone you’ve been in love with since forever.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he smiled.

“But it did go well, then?” He retorted with a knowing smile.

Spencer smiled and nodded, “She thinks I’m strong and brave and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“And stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Prentiss interjected.

Spencer froze, “I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Does she know you’re not dating?” Prentiss asked.

“What? Yes of course! Or-maybe? I don’t know we haven’t exactly talked about it.” Spencer replied.

“No, she doesn’t know,” Morgan clarified.

Spencer opened his mouth to argue but, before he could, Garcia cut in.

“Okay my little geniuses, it’s a weird one today. Let’s get briefed,” Garcia called.

“When do we get to meet her?” Prentiss whispered as they took their seats.

“Never,” Spencer replied.

Emily pouted, “you’re no fun.”

Spencer smiled but, as the briefing went on and the picture of their newest case got clearer and clearer, so did something else; they couldn’t do this alone. They needed help, very very specific help. His heart sunk. As they headed to the jet, Spencer pulled out his phone, wishing to God he didn’t have to.

“Hey, Y/N, remember how you said you owed me one?”

—————————-

This had to be some sort of nightmare, you thought to yourself as you stepped off the jet. When Spencer had first called you, you’d laughed, told him to stop joking around and tell you what he actually wanted but, as it turned out, he was serious. They had a case, he’d said, one that required a certain set of expertise, one that only you had. And you couldn’t really say no could you? Not to Spencer.

And now you’d solved it. It was over. Your hands were shaking and you’d never been this tired in your life, but it was over. You felt a hand on your shoulder and jumped.

“Hey, it’s alright, kid,” Derek Morgan assured you, “you’re okay.”

You nodded, even though it wasn’t a question and gave him a small smile.

“I know.”

Derek nodded, his dark eyes boring into you in that way only members of the BAU could, like they were looking into you and not at you, so you tried to look brave.

“You did good work on this case,” Derek said, walking back to the building with you, “without you I’m not sure we would’ve caught the guy.”

You shook your head, “Spen-Reid would have figured it out eventually.”

Derek pressed his lips together, “Probably, but even he said it would’ve taken him days to reconstruct the language from scratch, even without adding the psychology behind it. In that time who knows how many people our UnSub would have been able to get.”

You looked over your shoulder to where Spencer was standing at the base of the jet’s stairs, looking everywhere but at you. He’d been acting distant for a while now, ever since Hotch had decided to strap you into a bulletproof vest and send you in to talk a maniac off a ledge. The UnSub had been having some sort of psychotic break, he’d forgotten how to speak English and communicated exclusively in a language he’d created himself, a combination of several that pointed to details about his personal life. It was fascinating, in the worst way possible, a real life application of the theory you’d been working on for years. It would make your thesis a piece of cake to finish.

The thought made you feel nauseous.

“Is he-“ you asked Derek, pressing your lips together nervously, “is he angry at me or something?”

He frowned, “Reid? No. He’s crazy about you, he looks forward to those coffee dates with you every week for days.”

You flushed, “They're not dates, Derek.”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he replied, sarcastically, “slip of the tongue.” He ruffled your hair fondly, “Go on, talk to him, I’ll call you a cab when you’re done.”

You nodded and hung back, letting Derek’s hulking form vanish into the FBI building as you made your way slowly back toward the jet. Spencer was staring up at the moon, looking pensive and beautiful and painfully sad.

“Hey, there’s my favorite profiler,” you greeted gently, “you alright?”

“Hey,” he replied, still looking up at the moon, “why didn’t you go inside with everyone else?”

“I was waiting for you,” you explained, “I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“If I’m okay?” He laughed incredulously, meeting your eye, “Y/N, I’m out here because I’m trying to figure out what I could possibly say to make up for what I just put you through.” He explained, “This...this stuff-it’s my world, not yours. I should never have brought you into it.”

“Spencer you needed me, your team needed an expert and, no offense, but your social circle isn’t big enough to have two experts in linguistic psychology.” You teased gently.

Spencer chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest.

You stepped forward, resting a hand gently on his bicep, “You made the right decision, Spence. I’m glad you called, I’m-“ you paused, “I’m glad you let me help you.”

Spencer snorted, “And it nearly got you killed.”

“It didn’t nearly get me killed-“

“Yes. It did,” he insisted, “the UnSub was psychotic, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t have killed you on sight. Hotch should never have let you-I should never have let you go in there.”

“But I wanted to and I’m fine. The case is over, Spence, we’re in the clear.” You assured him, “Things can go back to normal now.”

“No, they can’t!” Spencer practically shouted, turning to face you, his eyes red and puffy. You instinctively stepped back and Spencer pressed his lips together, looking guilty, “Y/N, I-knowing you were in danger and that there was nothing I could do about it...it killed me. You were never meant to know about any of this, you were meant to be safe! I was meant to keep you safe!” He explained, running a hand through his hair, “You were the one thing in my life that this stuff couldn’t touch and now-“ he breathed, “now everytime you look at me you’re gonna think about this, and him, and everything I put you through and-“ he met your eye, “and things will be weird and you’ll stop wanting to talk to me. Things won’t be the same, Y/N.”

You flushed and stepped forward, “You're worried that I’m not gonna talk to you anymore?” You asked. Spencer didn’t answer, but the way he avoided your eye and worked his jaw seemed like answer enough, “Spence,” you smiled, “you’re like...my favorite person in the world. This stuff,” you gestured around, “what you do, it doesn’t change that. In fact I think it’s kind of incredible. You guys tracked down a serial killer based on nothing but some muddled letters, who does that?” You laughed.

Spencer didn’t respond, but the edges of his lips twitched, like he wanted to smile. You watched him for a moment, the way he held his head, the way his eyes darted up to yours. He was just as beautiful as he’d always been, but there was something more now. He was vulnerable, you realized, really vulnerable for the first time since you’d known him. No matter what he said, Spencer was reaching out to you.

“Your world is messed up, Spencer,” you continued, stepping forward and taking his hand, “but you aren’t. We aren’t, and I’m glad I got to be there when you needed me. We’re good, okay?”

“Do you promise?” He asked, his voice small.

You squeezed his hand, “I promise.”

Spencer nodded, squeezing back, and let you slowly pull him back towards the FBI building.

“Besides,” you continued, “you still owe me a look at my thesis.”

Spencer snorted, “That’ll literally take me 3 seconds.”

“Show off.”

“What? It’s true.” He laughed.

You suddenly realized that Spencer was still holding your hand and, when he saw you looking and tried to pull away, you held on tighter. Spencer smiled nervously, and you felt a rush of something warm and promising flow through you.

“Hey, Y/N?” He started nervously.

“Yes, Spencer?”

“Are we dating?” He asked.

“After today? We’d better be. I’m expecting at least a dinner after almost getting shot for you.” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“That’s so not funny,” Spencer replied, but he was smiling when he said it.

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“Fine,” Spencer agreed, stopping in his tracks and pulling you towards him, “it’s a little bit funny.”

And that’s when he pulled you in, cupping your face with his hands and pressing his lips to yours. Just like that, the weariness of the day melted away, disappearing into a kiss that tasted like burnt coffee and sugar and the best champagne you’d ever had. Spencer was strong and sure. He kissed you like it was the only chance he’d ever get, like he wanted to burn the memory of you into that brilliant mind of his forever. When you broke apart it felt like the earth had shifted beneath you and you stared at one another, breathless and smiling like teenagers caught making out beneath the bleachers.

“Oh yeah,” you laughed, “yeah you definitely owe me dinner.”

“Woohoo!” Morgan cheered.

“Ooooo, Y/N and Reid sitting in a tree,” Prentiss sang, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Go get ‘em, Lover Boy,” Garcia joined in.

Spencer laughed, letting his head fall down onto your shoulder, humming when you threaded your finger through his hair.

“Can we-um-can we maybe continue this at a later date?” Spencer asked, “Like maybe at dinner? Or,” he checked his watch, “breakfast, maybe?”

You looked back at Spencer’s team and felt, with a sudden rush of clarity, that you were looking at a group of people who would soon be staples of your life.

“Let’s go get coffee with the others,” you answered, “and then after that,” you tilted his head up and kissed him softly, “you can take me to breakfast.”

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes

#jordsie #jordsie writes #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanons #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x you #matthew gray gubler

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mlwritersguild · 3 years

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Better Fate than Never by @2manyfandoms2count

Prompt: Hallmark-type fluff. “Marinette walked out of the party with sullen eyes and weary steps. On her way out, she bumped into Adrien. He was at the hotel this winter holiday after being stood up by his girlfriend. Funny coincidence, she thought. He offers her a drink. Hours later and after many shots of tequila with him...” submitted by @maggies-scribblings

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

Friday 31st October, 1:36pm

Hey Chaton

Hey Bugaboo!

How’s life?

I’m a little sleep deprived but I’ve thought about it

It’s been 5 years. I really don’t think Hawkmoth is coming back

Will you be Home around Christmas?

Chaton is typing…

Read

Friday, 9:23pm

I can be for one day

I’ll meet you in Paris, then

The Grand Paris Hotel’s restaurant was warm and abuzz with activity for the annual Audrey Bourgeois Christmas Party. The event planners had pulled all the stops and truly outdone themselves, even managing to upgrade the hotel’s already impressive Holiday decor; a giant tree stood in the middle of the room, golden from all the decorations it sported. A stage had been set up next to the buffet on the far side of the room, covered in white fabric to imitate snow. A Santa-hatted singer crooned away accompanied by his jazz band, although the hum of conversations made the tune unrecognizable from afar. Ruby red velvet curtains framed the glass wall, contrasting beautifully with its snowy view of the City of Lights.

As a new fashion intern at the formidable fashion critique’s firm, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had helped organise and been encouraged to attend the event as a networking opportunity. As she stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by coworkers and other guests, the obligatory Champagne flute in hand, she couldn’t help but regret that her thoughts were elsewhere, and not fully enjoying the synthetic Christmas magic. She faked a smile as she lent a distracted ear to a group, her eyes looking for something, or rather someone, in the crowd. Her heart skipped a beat anytime her eyes landed on a blond mane, until the person turned around and she wasn’t met by distinctive green eyes.

“Dupain-Cheng!”

A shrill voice brought her back to reality, making her start and almost spill her drink on her gold dress.

Partygoers jumped aside as Chloé Bourgeois stalked towards her. Marinette was almost thankful for the distraction, even if the people she was standing with were now paying close attention to her, and probably realising that she hadn’t contributed much to the conversation aside from a couple oohs and aahs.

“You don’t look too shabby, for once.” Chloé looked her up and down with a sniff, but her eyes twinkled appreciatively as she took in the one-shouldered skater dress.

“And you don’t look too tacky, for once.” Marinette smirked. Chloé’s off-the-shoulder, velvet wrap dress was actually really nice, and the bottle-green colour suited her quite well. She was far from certain she’d pull it off half as well.

Chloé rolled her eyes and hooked her arm in hers to pull her towards the edge of the room. Marinette shot her coworkers an apologetic smile as she was dragged away from them.

“Dreadful people. You do not want to be seen with them,” Chloé said after letting go of her.

Marinette rolled her eyes and rubbed her arm. “They’re not so bad. You should try talking to them sometime.”

“You know I only speak to important people. Which you barely qualify as, by the way.”

Marinette shook her head and took a sip of champagne. While she and Chloé were far from best friends, their relationship had improved quite a bit since collège. It had taken all of Marinette’s patience to try and break through to her when they’d started their internship, but ultimately she was glad that she had. It made lunch breaks more entertaining, since neither of them had time to sit down properly at the company’s cantina.

“So, is he here?” Chloé asked pointedly, standing on her tiptoes despite her high heels, scrutinising their surroundings although she had no idea who she was looking out for.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Marinette sighed, scanning the room again.

She and Chat Noir were taking the leap, and finally revealing their identities to each other. Marinette had spent hours thinking before sending the fateful text that had set the whole plan into motion. Hawkmoth had mysteriously vanished five years prior and had shown no sign of reappearing; surely enough time had passed for them to consider the danger gone. Still, her finger had lingered over the Send button, momentarily frozen by her old fear that accepting that their nemesis was gone might mean never seeing each other again. Tikki, however, had comforted her choice by reminding her of a crucial fact; Chat had moved to the American East Coast soon after they’d graduated from lycée, and that hadn’t impacted their bond in the least.

Marinette had taken deep breath, a bite from her lunch, and hit the button.

Over a month later, she still believed she’d made the right decision. Whatever happened, she doubted that they’d lose contact after tonight. She couldn’t see how dropping the masks could ever change their relationship for the worse.

Of course, Marinette hadn’t been able to tell anyone what she was up to, least of all Chloé. Even if they were revealing their identities to one another, it didn’t mean that they were ready to make them fully public yet. Her colleague, however, had walked in on her biting her nails as she’d been waiting for Chat Noir’s reply, and she’d had to invent an excuse for her attitude. If Chloé had ever found it strange that Marinette was getting worked up about a meeting taking place around Christmas time on Halloween, she’d dismissed it pretty quickly. Dupain-Cheng was a stressed person by nature. Something about her friend’s anxiety, though, had piqued her interest. She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d become almost invested in the encounter.

“What a surprise. I told you online dating was a bad idea. The best way to find someone is to crash an A-lister’s party. I might take you with me next time, as long as I get to choose what you wear.” Chloé shrugged. “Wouldn’t want you to embarrass me.”

Marinette chuckled and took a sip of champagne. Chat Noir was the furthest thing from a blind date, she thought, as a blush creeped up her cheeks. Her decision to meet him wasn’t entirely platonic, after all. They hadn’t really talked about it, but she felt like their conversations had evolved into something more than plain friendship.

“I still don’t get why your meeting had to be at the company Christmas party, by the way.” Chloé said before finishing her drink. “I thought it was supposed to be romantic, or whatever.”

“It is romantic. It’s almost Christmas. Everything is more magical at this time of the year,” Marinette insisted. It was probably the only setting that could make their identity reveal even more enchanting, she thought to herself. “And we’re meeting here, it’s true, but just because it’s an easy landmark. We’re planning on moving someplace else afterwards, of course.”

Marinette’s gaze drifted toward the windows. It had started to snow outside, snowflakes gently descending from the skies and dancing, yet it was nice and toasty inside. Maybe she’d suggest they find a quiet café that stayed open late at night, rather than a stroll on the riverbanks.

“That is, if he ever shows up,” Chloé said lazily as she waved a waiter over to get a fresh glass of champagne.

“It’s only 11pm. He’ll come,” Marinette said as confidently as she could, swapping her drink as well.

“You’ve been here since 2pm. This isn’t Cinderella, D-C. Your Prince Charming isn’t going to walk out of nowhere,” Chloé pointed out. “And especially not from Tinder,” she added with a nose scrunch.

“Maybe you’re right.” Marinette sighed. “I’ll give the room one last round, then I’ll be heading Home. Want to come with?”

“Nah, I don’t feel like hanging out with the masses tonight. I’ll go and find the new designers we hired last month.”

“Have fun.” Marinette smiled. “See you after Christmas?”

“Sure.” Chloé dismissed her, taking her phone out to find pictures of her targets.

Marinette toured the room one last time, saying goodbye to her acquaintances and still holding out the hope that maybe Chat Noir was among them. She stifled a yawn as she waited for the lift, and pulled out her phone. She’d forgotten to check if she’d received any messages from Chat; the plan was so straightforward, the only reasons for him not coming she could think of were that something had happened to him, or that he’d gotten cold feet. She didn’t know which option she preferred.

Unfortunately, no amount of fidgeting with the power button gave any results. She rolled her eyes. Of course her phone had to give up on the day she needed it most.

The elevator dinged and she walked inside. There’d be no Chat Noir, but no Uber either tonight.

Suddenly the snow didn’t sound so romantic.

---

Adrien Agreste stood in the middle of the Grand Paris Hotel lobby, listening to a man he’d already forgotten the name of. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on anything tonight, his attention span wasn’t cooperating at all. His interlocutor took out his phone to show him something, and Adrien mirrored him, nodding along as he unlocked his device. He looked at the time for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and seized the occasion to discreetly check his messages.

11pm, and still no sign from Ladybug.

He sighed softly and re-pocketed his phone, flashing a polite smile to the man who’d started talking, or rather, monologuing, again. Adrien really hoped he hadn’t missed a cue to answer, but it seemed like his conversation partner was happy with the amount of participation he’d provided so far. Or at least he hoped he was. He stared blankly at the far wall and his attention started drifting again.

It wasn’t that the party was awful; on the contrary, when it came to children in need, he took his ambassador role at the Little Feet, Big Hearts Charity very much to heart and always made sure to be in on event planning to guarantee the children would have the best time. He was fairly certain the children who’d been invited had greatly enjoyed the party and their gifts, as well as their day in Paris. That was one of the only parts of the evening he’d managed to concentrate on something other than the hotel lobby doors, which seemed to open every other minute. He’d appreciated the richly decorated space, a giant Christmas tree adorned with red and gold decorations replacing the usual floral arrangement in the centre of the room. The reception desks bore green and red baubles in pots, and the employees wore Santa hats.

As the main ambassador of the charity and a very generous patron, Adrien had been able to weigh in on the location choice for the event, moving it to the Grand Paris Hotel instead of holding it in New York. He’d used the excuse that a trip to Paris would be a nice gift for the children, and that expanding the Charity’s operations overseas could only be beneficial.The board had agreed, and Adrien had mentally thanked whoever it was that had answered his prayers (Plagg had assured it wasn’t him who was in charge of wish granting). He’d had no other ideas to justify a trip to Paris otherwise.

He’d suggested to Ladybug that they meet at the party, and she’d sounded almost surprised that he’d been invited. Like she’d known how selective the event was.

Which was why it worried him that she still hadn’t showed up.

He fidgeted with his suit sleeve, and tensed up when he felt a light pat on his shoulder. His gaze shot up, and he noticed the man he’d been talking to had left.

“Hey dude.” Nino smiled at him, walking from behind him. As an up-and-coming DJ, Adrien had made sure to get him invited as well; he wasn’t spending much time in Paris this year, but he still wanted to see his best friend. “Still nothing?”

Adrien smiled tightly, grateful for his friend checking up on him, yet awfully aware of Ladybug’s absence. He’d brought Nino up to speed during the course of the evening, telling him all about the girl he was going to meet. An old friend, he’d said, whom he’d stayed in contact with, but hadn’t seen in a while. It was a big step in their relationship. Nino had thought it was a romantic step, and Adrien hadn’t corrected him. He didn’t dare hope that his encounter with Ladybug would lead to anything more than strengthening their platonic relationship, though.

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “It’s so weird. She’s the one who asked me to meet up, and now I can’t reach her. I hope nothing bad happened to her.”

“Maybe the snow prevented her from coming.”

Adrien looked through the lobby doors. It was snowing heavily - perfect weather for Christmas time, but not so much for Parisian transport.

“That’s probably it.” He gave his friend a half-smile.

Nino patted his arm sympathetically. “You know I would love to wait up with you, but I really need to head back. I promised Alya that I’d pick her up at the airport. I’m so proud of her reporter trips, but they really could book flights at more manageable times.” He shook his head. “And I know it’s not exactly my place, but… maybe you should call it a day too. You look tired, and most people are gone now.”

Adrien looked around the room, and saw Nino was right. He hadn’t noticed the guests leaving, but the waiters were already starting to wrap everything up.

“I guess you’re right - I’ll go back up, then. Thanks for coming tonight. It was great seeing you!”

“Always a pleasure, bro. You’re sure you can’t stay in Paris for longer? I know loads of other people would be super happy to see you. I mean, Alya is very disappointed that she couldn’t make it tonight, for one.”

“And I’d be very happy to see them, too, but unfortunately I have obligations lined up in New York until next February. No rest for the wicked.” He shrugged and smiled sadly.

“If that’s really what it is, then I guess it’s fine. But if you feel like you need to escape Paris because you don’t have a proper place to stay since the Manor got seized, well, that’s not an excuse; you know you’re welcome at our place anytime.” Nino gave him a stern look. “It’s been five years since your dad’s arrest, you can’t still let him drive you out of the city like that.”

“That’s really kind of you, but I promise it’s work. You know how big my modeling career has become since I moved to New York, and I really need the money to pay for my studies. To be honest, the ad companies were so quick to offer me campaigns when it hit the news that I was no longer a Gabriel Brand exclusive, that I sometimes wonder if they knew my Dad was committing tax fraud and that he was going to fall.” A flash of pain crossed his face as he remembered the moment he’d left Paris after graduation and realised his mother’s inheritance would barely cover the housing costs of his university. Given how golden the modeling opportunity had been, he’d been forced to take the job. Even if it meant feeling overwhelmed as he juggled with his classes and the constant photoshoots.

“Dude.” Nino put his hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, a concerned look on his face. “Are you sure you’re doing alright?”

“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Thanks to you know who.”

A small smile spread on his lips as he thought of Ladybug. She’d been there when he’d gone through all his hardships in the past few years, a rock he felt safely anchored to. Even with 6,000 km and a 6 hour time difference between them, they remained as tight as ever, their anonymous chat an oasis for them both. She was the first person he texted in the morning, he was the last person she texted at night. They were each among the first to know about life events, and, most importantly, they were the one person they called if something was wrong. They knew everything that mattered about each other.

Everything, except their real names.

Which was why their meeting tonight, in person, detransformed for the first time, was such a big deal.

“I really hope she makes it,” Nino said sincerely.

“Me, too.”

Adrien checked his phone for the time, yet again. 11:11pm.

He made a wish and gave Nino a pat on the shoulder. “Alright then, man, get your girl home safe! And say hi to everybody for me. I’ll try to come back soon.”

“You better! See ya, dude. And don’t forget; you’re always welcome.” Nino fist-bumped him and made his way towards the hotel doors.

Adrien waved at him, then thanked the catering team when his friend had made it through the doors. He sighed, looking around the empty lobby, and made his way towards the elevator. He pressed the button and waited, hands in his suit pockets, looking at his feet.

Hearing a ding and the doors sliding open, he took a few steps to get into the lift… And slammed right into the woman who was walking out of it. He caught her before she could fall, taking in her familiar, if a little sullen, bluebell eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” they said in unison as he helped her back to her feet.

He took in the woman’s petite figure, clad in a shimmering gold dress, her hair split in two characteristic pigtails, and he couldn’t help but smile as he recognised her. She was even more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her, at their graduation.

“Marinette?”

Marinette looked up at the man who’d been holding her, her head tilted inquisitively as she tried to place him. Adrien had cut his hair for an ad, abandoning his characteristic side bang, but his warm green eyes hadn’t changed.

“Hi, Adrien!” She beamed as she recognised him, and kissed him on both cheeks. “I didn’t know you were back for the holidays!”

“I’m not, really… I’m leaving in the morning.” He smiled.

Feeling a sudden gust of wind at the back of his head, he couldn’t help but throw a glance towards the main doors, hoping he would finally see Ladybug pass through them. His smile fell as he watched an elderly lady dust off the snow from her coat.

“Waiting for someone?”

Marinette’s eyes had followed his, heartbeat rising at the thought that perhaps Chat Noir would swoop in at the very last minute and prove Chloé wrong. Disappointed by the sight, and seeing his reaction from the corner of her eye, she’d diverted her gaze back to him, a curious, perhaps even empathetic look in her eyes.

He focused his attention on her, his fingers brushing against the Lucky Charm he still kept in his pocket, and wondered when he’d last heard from her.

Lovely, charming, Marinette. Their last interaction had probably been at their graduation party, when they’d all promised to stay in touch… before life had engulfed them and he’d ended up on the other side of the Atlantic. The little he knew about her adult life had been gathered from the odd update on social media, and gossip from Nino.

He found himself thinking that it wasn’t enough.

“She’s not coming.” He smiled tightly, and Marinette instinctively reached out and rubbed his arm. The contact made him shake out of his impending wallow. “But it doesn’t matter. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know…” She trailed off, crossing her arms over her chest. “Working the grind, nothing special.”

“But everything you do is special.” He smiled, and Marinette found herself blushing at the soft look in his eye, like she was still a Collège student. “I know it’s late but… Are you in a hurry? Can I buy you a drink?”

Marinette looked at her watch, and glanced at the hotel doors. The snow had picked up; if she’d ever thought heading back in the cold in her heels and going-out coat was a good idea, she was definitely starting to second guess it. It wasn’t that late, it was Friday, and she’d taken the few days leading to Christmas off anyway; she supposed she could stay a little longer, and give the snow time to stop so she wouldn't freeze to death on her way home. She thought about Chat Noir, and concluded it wasn't her fault if he hadn't showed up.

“That sounds lovely. Bar?” She pointed towards the elevator.

“Bar.” He pressed the button to call the lift.

---

“I didn’t know they’d refurbished the hotel.” Adrien said as they walked down a hallway on the fifth floor.

“Yeah, they figured that having the bar in the same place as the restaurant might be getting them less clients, so they created one. It’s a lovely space, you’ll see.” Marinette smiled.

They were about to turn a corner when a voice resonated from the other side.

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

Adrien froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes searching for an escape route and landing on a broom closet. He pushed the door open and pulled Marinette in with him, leaving the door slightly ajar. He heard Chloé’s heels stomping away more than he saw them, but remained silent until he’d heard a distant door slam.

Marinette was entirely aware of being pressed against Adrien’s chest, and of their hearts beating way too quickly. She was pretty sure the reason behind her tachycardia was suddenly being pulled into a small space. It had absolutely nothing to do with the person she was with, whose abs she could feel through his shirt… or the fact he was holding her tightly as he peeked through the gap to check the coast was clear.

“Sorry about that.” Adrien cleared his throat as he gently let her go to open the door for her.

“Adrien Agreste actively fleeing Chloé Bourgeois in her own hotel. My, my - how times have changed,” she answered with a smirk as she exited the space.

“It’s nothing against her, it’s just that… Well, I’m not here for very long, and I didn’t really feel like spending time all my time stuck with her, you know? She doesn’t know I’m here, though. I booked my room under a fake name.”

“I get that.” She chuckled, a blush dusting her cheeks. “She’s changed a bit though. She’s actually pretty okay now.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng defending Chloé Bourgeois. My, my - how times have changed,” Adrien parroted as he held the bar door open for her.

Marinette just rolled her eyes in response, an amused smile pulling at her lips. She stepped inside the room and stopped as she took it in, unsure where to go. The place was slightly dark from its mahogany furnishing, yet cozily lit thanks to dim candle-shaped lamps peppering the surfaces. It was empty, bar the bartender polishing glasses behind the counter in the centre of the room. They could go for the green velvet barstools, the inviting easy chairs next to the giant bookshelf on the left of the room, or the chesterfield couches that framed the lit fireplace on the right.

Adrien silently checked with Marinette before heading towards the couches, but the bartender’s voice echoed before he could get very far.

“Service is only at the bar after 11pm.”

“Oh, alright.” Adrien diverted his route towards the man and took a seat, Marinette following suit. “Good evening, sir.” He flashed the bartender his model smile.

“Bonsoir Monsieur, Mademoiselle. What can I get you tonight?”

Adrien squinted at the shelves behind him. Running into Marinette had not made him forget the reason why he’d almost been alone tonight. “I think I’ll have…two shots of Casamigos, please.”

“Very well, sir. Mademoiselle?”

“Um…” She scanned the selection as well, before shaking her head, not spotting anything that caught her eye. “What is it you’re having?” she whispered towards Adrien.

“Casamigos. Tequila.” He clarified when he saw her clueless expression.

“Oh, that sounds great. I’ll have the same, please.” She smiled at the bartender.

“Coming right up.”

Marinette thanked him and shifted in her seat to face Adrien. “Shots, huh? She must be one hell of a lady for you to need the big guns.”

“That, she is.” He sighed, and resisted pulling out his phone to check if he’d received any news. “It’s complicated, though. What about you? You followed me on the drink choice, having heart troubles as well?”

“Sort of.” Marinette looked down at her lap and fiddled with the hem of her dress. “It’s also complicated.”

The bartender slid them two shot glasses each, filling what could have become an awkward silence. Adrien toyed with the first one before taking it and holding it up towards Marinette. “To complicated relationships.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They clinked their glasses together before downing their drink.

Marinette winced as the bitterness of the alcohol hit her taste buds. “Anyway, how’s life in New York treating you? Is Hot Dog Dan still working his magic?”

“Yeah, but somehow his hot dogs don’t taste as good when you’re not sharing them. Floating in the air with you is one of my favourite memories from that class trip, you know.” He smiled, and Marinette felt her cheeks heat up a little.

She nodded. “It was a really nice moment.” It was also one of the only ones she could look back to without too many mixed feelings. She downed the second shot. There’d been water under the bridge since the trip, but Chat Noir not showing up tonight somehow made the memories more painful. “I read one of your interviews a while ago, you seem very busy. How do you do it? Juggling work and studies like you do, I mean. Are you happy?”

“I think so, yes.” He cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable. Marinette was the only person, beside Ladybug, to actually ask about how he felt about his situation. And he wasn’t unhappy, per se… but probably not as happy as he could be. He downed the second shot. “It’s not always easy, but I have good friends who help me through it.”

“That’s good to hear. I know we haven’t really talked in a while but… If you ever need to chat, I’d be happy to, you know?”

“Thanks, Marinette. I might take you up on that.” He smiled, taking in her earnest face. “How are you, though? I’ve seen some designs of yours around, congratulations.”

“Thanks. I was really lucky to get those out there.” She wanted to add that it could be thanks to his Lucky Charm that sat in her purse anywhere she went, but it had been such a long time since he’d given it to her, it might’ve been weird to bring it up. “It really helped in getting me my internship with Audrey Bourgeois, too.”

“Nonsense. You’ve always had talent.” He placed his hand over hers on the bar and squeezed it. “Never doubt that.”

Marinette gave him a flustered smile before turning towards the bartender and gesturing for him to bring them more drinks with her free hand. Anything not to look at Adrien’s intense gaze. She may have been over him, but he was making it hard to forget why she’d had feelings for him in the first place.

“Are you still in contact with other people from lycée? I’m guessing you must have heard that Nino and Alya moved in together.” She cleared her throat, pulling her hand from under Adrien’s to grab the next shot. She nodded towards the bartender to thank him.

“Yeah, I actually saw Nino tonight, we were both at the same event. He caught me up on a lot of stuff. I think you might get an excited call from Alya on Christmas morning.” He leaned forward slightly, a twinkle in his eye.

Marinette gasped. “No! He’s taking the leap?!”

“He definitely is,” Adrien chuckled.

“That sneaky… I can’t believe he didn’t tell me! Or ask for my help!”

“Guess we know who he trusts more with romantic decisions,” he replied with a smug grin.

“And guess we know whose ass I’ll kick if Alya doesn’t get the proposal she deserves,” she said, shooting him a pointed look.

“I hope you’ll find it up to your standards, then.” Adrien laughed. “And if not, well, let’s just say I’m happy we’ll have a whole ocean between us, then. I’ll still make sure I’m well hidden in New York, though,” he added with a wink.

“Oh, but I’m so happy for them,” Marinette cooed, thinking about how much happiness her friends deserved, and held up her glass. “To Alya and Nino.”

“To Alya and Nino!”

They knocked back their drinks.

Adrien played with his empty glass a little.

“You know, I would have contacted you had I been in Paris for longer, but…”

“It’s okay, Adrien, I’m not taking it the wrong way at all.” Marinette leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. “I’ve been to New York a couple of times since starting my internship and didn’t call in. I know what it’s like to be running around for work and barely having time for yourself.”

“I’m really glad I ran into you tonight, though.” Adrien smiled.

“Me, too.”

“What were you doing here anyway? Is Audrey being an unreasonable boss and making you work late nights? You know you have a right to say no. I’d go tell her what I think myself if I wasn’t lying low,” he tutted.

“Oh, no. I was at the Christmas party tonight.” Marinette chuckled. “Thanks for your concern, though.”

“Ah, I see. That would explain the fancy dress. Gold suits you, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She blushed, smoothing the skirt of her dress.

He frowned. “But wait, how come I didn’t run into you sooner? I was at the party all night. And I definitely feel like I would’ve seen you. You’re sparkling.”

“You were at the Bourgeois Christmas party? Up at the restaurant?” Marinette tilted her head in confusion. Given how intently she’d studied the guests, there was little chance that she could’ve missed Adrien, especially if he’d been with Nino. She knitted her brow as she thought. “But I’m guessing not, if you were trying to escape Chloé.”

“No, I was in the lobby. For the Little Feet, Big Hearts Charity gift drive?” Marinette shook her head with a tight smile, pieces of information starting to click together. “Wait. So there was another party upstairs?”

He groaned, while Marinette held her head in her hands and massaged her temples, the effects of the shots starting to take hold. Of course there had been two parties. It wasn’t like Fate to help Ladybug and Chat Noir meet.

Adrien took his phone out and opened his messages. Ladybug still hadn’t read the latest.

“Is there any chance it might still be going on?” he asked with a doubtful smile.

“I really don’t think so. Chloé wanted to kick everyone out at Midnight, something about needing her beauty sleep. So it’s been over for…” She looked at her wristwatch. “Wow, almost three hours. Which means we’ve been talking for almost four hours now. Coherently.”

Adrien stopped typing and looked up from his screen. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, you know.” She slurred a little and leaned forward, losing balance and catching herself from falling by placing a hand on his thigh. Adrien smiled fondly at her slight flush and bashful expression. Marinette had always been cute, but she seemed to reach a new high tonight. “I used to have a huge crush on you, way back when. Well, maybe calling it a crush would be taming it down; I’m pretty sure I was fully in love with you.”

“You were?” Her words took him by surprise, and he frowned a little as he tried to remember signs. Marinette had always been nice to him, but that was who she was. Wasn’t it?

She nodded. “I felt like I made a fool out of myself every time we talked.”

“I- I didn’t notice.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be.” She waved his sentiment aside and leaned back on her stool. The momentum almost made her fall over, but Adrien took her hand and pulled her towards him, catching her in his arms. “You’re still too nice, you know that? And you still smell too nice,” she muttered against his chest.

Adrien felt his heart rate increase. How could he have been so oblivious?

“Maybe, but I was such an idiot not to see it,” he said as he gently helped her sit up again. “You know, I think I probably had a bit of a crush on you, too.”

“You’re just saying that so you don’t hurt my feelings,” she scoffed , though her eyes lit up a little.

“I’m really not! It’s just that it was constantly overshadowed by the person I still honestly think is the love of my life.” He downed another shot, then gave her a slightly pained look. “I was supposed to meet her tonight, you know. And we apparently messed up on the communication front. Or she didn’t want to show up.”

“I’m sure it’s probably the first option, and if that’s not it, then it’s completely her loss.” She downed her own drink before asking the painful question. “If I may… Who is it?”

“Ladybug.” Adrien sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

Marinette frowned. “But wait, I’m Ladybug!” she cried out.

Her eyes widened as she realised what she had just said.

She clasped both her hands over her mouth, and checked around her for anyone who could have overheard. She felt a little relieved when she saw it was only them in the room. The bartender had left at some point, she noted, leaving the tequila bottle accessible. She grabbed it and refilled their glasses to occupy herself.

"What did you say?" Adrien’s expression had drained of all amusement, and he looked at her with something she couldn’t quite make out in his eye, his hand on her knee to stabilise her.

Adrien looked at the woman in front of him and couldn’t help but wonder how he’d not noticed Marinette’s resemblance to Ladybug before. It felt too easy, though. Hope still seeped through his eyes as he tried to will his heart into beating less fast.

"What? I didn’t say anything. Did you hear something?" Marinette looked around again, knowing all too well she wasn’t fooling him. There was no getting out of this situation. She almost fell over again as she shifted, but Adrien caught her by the shoulders and his eyes bore into hers.

“Marinette.”

She held her breath at his proximity. He looked so serious. She slapped herself internally as the thought that it was very attractive crossed her mind. Now was not the time.

“Are you Ladybug?”

She remained silent, staring into his green eyes, calculating her next move.

“...No?” She winced as her reply came out more as a question than a statement.

“Marinette.”

“Okay, fine.” She sighed, lifting her hands in surrender. “You got me, yes, I am Ladybug.”

A smile started pulling at his lips, and she pushed him back slightly on the nose. “But I don’t know why you thought I was meeting with you tonight. Because I definitely wasn’t.”

“You sure about that?” He lifted an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. An amused smile played at his lips. “You weren’t looking for anyone tonight, were you?”

“Well, yes, I was, but…” Marinette stammered, frowning. Everything felt a little fuzzy suddenly. Had Adrien texted her sometime in the afternoon, before her phone had died? Had she inadvertently opened the message as she’d dealt with the party planning team, and had he interpreted it as a positive signal? Then again, Adrien had said he was meeting with Ladybug… Adrien didn’t have Ladybug’s number. Unless Chat had given it to him? Surely he knew better than that.

“And you’re a hundred percent paw-sitive it wasn’t me?”

Adrien’s voice pulled her out of her overthinking. Her eyes snapped to his happy, cheeky grin, then to his right hand on the bar - more specifically, on the silver ring it wore.

Puzzle pieces clicked together in her mind, and she gasped.

“You know, I was starting to worry it wasn’t going to happen but… This is really turning out to be the loveliest Christmas surprise, My Lady.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, looking up at her from under his lashes.

There was no doubt his claim to being Chat Noir was correct, yet Marinette’s mind was too boggled for her to react in any way. She stared at Adrien blankly, still computing the new information.

“Marinette?” His eyes were full of concern as he waved a hand in front of her eyes. Seeing no results, he touched her forehead, checking for signs of shock. The contact seemed to jolt her.

“Yes! Hi, hello.” She blinked.

“Are you alright?”

“Perfect. I just… You’re Chat Noir?” She leaned forward and mussed up his hair, frowning as she tried to recreate her partner’s haircut.

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it,” he muttered, leaning out of her reach and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, Chaton!” Her eyes widened, and her hands flew to cup his cheeks, an affectionate smile playing on her lips. “I’m not disappointed at all! I just… Can’t really believe you made me fall for you twice.” She chuckled, and rolled her eyes. “And made me confess my feelings for you twice in one night.”

It was Adrien’s turn to stare at her blankly and stutter. “I… I called you the love of my life, didn’t I. I promised myself I’d stay cool tonight, way to go Adrien...” He dropped his head, and covered the parts of his face that weren’t under her hands with his.

“Hey, it’s alright.” She slid her hands from under his and patted his shoulder tenderly. “Wow, this meeting definitely isn’t going the way we were expecting it to, is it?”

He peeked from behind his hands. “I think it would have, had you answered your phone.”

“My phone died on me, and I was so sure the plan was foolproof-”

“Fate really threw us a curveball, didn’t it?” He smiled.

“Lucky for us, we caught it anyway.” She gently peeled his hands off of his face and held them in hers. “Hi, Chat Noir. I’d planned on saying nice to finally meet you, but turns out we’re well past that. Nice to see you again?”

“I don’t even know anymore.” He chuckled, squeezing her hands. “I’d really given up on you showing up tonight, you know.”

“And I, on you.”

“Well, better fate than never, hey?” he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“So you really do come up with your puns on the spot.” She shook her head. “I thought Plagg contributed.”

“Well, sometimes. Most of it is me, though.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, soft smiles pulling at their lips.

“So,” Adrien said after a little while. “What now?”

“I don’t know.” Marinette replied, looking at their entwined hands. “I know we know each other pretty well, but I was going to tell you that I… well, like you, romantically, and that if you still had similar feelings for me, maybe we could take things slow? But I guess that plan is off the table, since we’ve pretty much confessed to one another already.”

“I’m happy rolling with that anyway. You have to know that I love you, though.” He grinned cheekily.

“I love you, too.” She smiled broadly, blushing a little deeper.

Adrien brought both of her hands to his lips and pressed his lips to them. Marinette saw him lift his eyes to the skies, as if to thank them. She smiled fondly at the sight.

“Hey, Bugaboo?” Adrien kept an eye on something above them as he leaned towards her and put a hand on her knee.

“Chaton?” She mirrored him, resting her head on her hand and smiling softly.

“How long do you think that mistletoe has been hanging above us?” He pointed upwards, and her eyes followed his gaze.

Marinette burst out laughing as she caught sight of the little bunch hanging from under a large wreath. “Do you think Fate is trying to make it up to us?”

She looked into his eyes. Adrien’s face inched closer to hers, and she saw his gaze flicker towards her lips, which tugged into a smile.

“It’s doing a pretty good job, if it is.” He brushed his nose against hers. She felt his warm breath on her lips and closed her eyes.

“And who would we be to resist it?” she whispered, before closing the distance between them.

Safe to say, Adrien Agreste wasn’t on the morning flight to New York. In fact, he wasn’t on any flights that season; his American fans probably would have been worried to not see him in New York, had it not been for a festive picture of him at the Eiffel Tower he posted on Christmas Day, captioned “Home for the Holidays… or possibly longer”. As much as his Parisian fans scrutinised the streets, though, there were no sightings of him anywhere.

Chat Noir’s return, however, and his walking hand-in-hand with Ladybug in the snow, awed by the Christmas lights, generated a lot more media interest.

One Ladyblogger might even have called it a Christmas Miracle.

#ml writers guild #december event 2020 #2manyfandoms2count #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fic #lovesquare #lovesquare fic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #mlb #miraculous

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xoxo-ren-xoxo · 3 years

Note

Just a small thing that you can definitely ignore if you want and I know this might be bad to say or even selfish but I just.. miss the old Schlatt? not the one who's now doing this content and making hurtful jokes just for money. because every day I'm losing more and more hope that off camera, he's a genuine person?

Or I just want him to improve and become better? I don't know, I know I might be selfish for being like that and I do recognise that parasocial relationships do exist and he is merely a stranger to me but I just want him to become better and to be better. curse me and my heart where I just want the best for everyone, even if I don't know them. c': I think I miss the old Schlatt - because I feel like even this persona he has is not doing him any good?

This might be a thought but you know when you look at someone and you can just see or feel that their mindset is affecting them - especially when it's affecting them negatively? I noticed that with him. Again, I know I'm a mere stranger and I don't know anything about him but even with strangers you can notice this? When he was on a break from that sort of content while he was moving, on the update "I'm Back" video he had a better energy? But when he started to embrace that persona again, his energy is just becoming worse and worse. the only times his energy was better again was when he had the moments with Jambo?

I don't know. I'm just going on a ramble at this point but I just wish he became better?

This is the exact reason I still watch the guy! I completely get where you're coming from, and it can be hard to have these sorts of conversations without speculating about what goes on 'behind the scenes' (something we know Schlatt is uncomfortable with and is possibly one of the reasons he puts on such a contrary persona).

I agree that his content has taken a downturn lately. But I don't think it's the fault of the persona, I think it's the fault of him misusing the persona. Of course he can do whatever he wants, I don't really care cause if he decides he wants to keep being a bastard then that's his problem and I'll stop watching cause that content isn't for me. However, I have some ideas about why the more recent videos have been 'worse':

His heart isn't in it. Jackbox games are fun and all but they aren't the kind of content Schlatt likes to make. In my opinion. His old channel had videoessays, but he's said before that they don't make enough money for him to keep doing that. I think he likes the little slice of life videos more because they're easy and because they're fun. I think the Wii videos were great, well-structured and good examples of well-done satire, but I feel he got a bit bored of it so he tried jackbox, which just isn't the same.

The satire doesn't work with jackbox videos. In the Wii videos it's just him and the game and some props. He plays his character and clearly makes fun of the kind of person he's portraying, or he just makes fun of himself, which is cool too lol. For example in the Wii fishing video, he plays the character of a misogynistic guy who loves fishing and hates his wife. Then proceeds to be terrible at the game and get angry to the point of making himself look like a fool. That's why we laugh! We laugh at the dumbass he's portraying. And obviously this is the same for most of the bits he does. The classic one being the gay Catholic patriot. The unexpected clash of traits makes it funny. With the jackbox vids you don't really get that. It's him and some friends. And yeah, they make fun of themselves and each other, but it has the unwanted side effect of being easy to turn into something that starts to make fun of other people, such as minorities or victims of tragedy, which isn't okay.

Mans is just trying to get a rise out of people. We all know this. The last video was purposefully offensive to try to scare the dream stans away. Which was dumb, and he shouldn't have done it, but I get why he did it. With everything that's happened recently, I'm sure Schlatt doesn't want to be associated with that sort of fanbase. Unfortunately, he went the wrong way about scaring them off.

Moving, the entire thing with lunch club and cmc, getting a cat, and Connor moving in, all while making near-weekly videos, two podcasts, and being on streams. That's a lot to think about, which is probably another reason for the lazier content and falling back on 'easy' jokes that often turn out offensive.

What I'm saying is that I feel he's in a rut. He hit a dead end, tried to fix things, then fell off and made a shitty video as an attempt for controversy. If I'm right, then I feel that he's gonna take a bit of a break (he's already taken a pretty long break if you look at how long it's been since the last video on his main channel) and come back when he's actually ready to do some better content.

The video was bad, and I get why people don't feel comfortable watching him anymore. I've made my peace with it and I'm hoping for some better content soon. But not too soon!

Lots of his friends have spoken about the whole thing, and the general consensus is that yeah, it was bad. I think Connor talked about him and Schlatt seeing a kid watching The Video and Schlatt having this 'oh shit' moment? I might be wrong, if anyone has a link to the clip or stream where Connor talks about this lmk. But regardless, I think mans is taking a break and sorting himself out. There are also rumours he might stream soon but idk idk.

I feel that off-camera he's a completely different person. Minx said she sees it that way, Ty also said he's very respectful and chill off-camera. So I don't think he's a bad person (I don't think he's racist or anti-Semetic, he fucked up but I highly doubt he believes that shit irl and I think claiming that he does is just performative and kinda weird. I understand microagressions are also very bad and can be used by racists/be racist but on their own they do not make you a racist especially if it's poor taste jokes that went too far etc).

You're right though, he definitely wanted to make money. That didn't really work out for him though (if you look at the stats on The Video, it performed terribly) so I doubt it's a mistake he would make again.

For now, if you want to see better content that (I think) reflects Schlatt in a better light (aka he's still doing a bit but he's much more chill and less of a bastard about it) I recommend the chuckle sandwich podcast and sleep deprived podcast. He's on OTK streams a lot too but that sorta thing isn't really for me.

Also stan connoreatspants bringing us Jambo content all the time. 🙌

Idk if that was helpful, but it's more a gesture of solidarity since I agree with and feel everything you're saying. Of course, this is all speculation, please don't spread this as fact because I don't know Schlatt any better than you do. He's just a comfort CC and guy I think is kinda neat when he's not doing dumb shit.

Sorry for the long post. Also, you can disregard the shit I said about racism if you want cause I'm not qualified to talk about it really. There are good points for calling someone a racist for jokes like the ones in the video, but I feel like the rest of the factors should be looked at too since this is a complicated situation. Again, just my opinion, please no hate. If you have a complaint DM me or send an ask. I'm open to hearing other povs.

Have a nice day !

#jschlatt #long post #discourse #negativity #schlatt #lunch club mention #connoreatspants #racism

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wellthatjusthappend · 3 years

Note

hey do you think you can write something where Dick is touch starved bc the members of the batfamily are not that into giving or receiving comforting touch like hugs so he's feeling awful and acting kind of distant with the other bats bc he doesn't really want to bug them by asking for a hug and it's Jason that notices something is wrong and ends up giving it to him

Dick being touch starved is my jam. Especially when I get to give him what he needs.

Man, this prompt got away from me a little, I meant to do a small fill but, well, now you can read it here or on Ao3.

“What the hell is going on with Dickhead?” Jason grumbled. He’d totally cashed Jason’s case recently, and nearly bit off Jason’s head when he made a sarcastic quip.

Usually, that meant that something had happened, but Jason had dug around after hadn’t found anything other than a slow and steady escalation of violence the last several weeks. Seemingly from no cause.

There had to be something Jason was missing. Not that he cared or anything, but if Golden Boy was falling off the edge he needed to get ready. Or maybe he was just being nosy. Both were Bruce approved approaches.

Jason frowned as on screen Dick let several punches land that he could have avoided and choose to punch back rather than use his sticks.

“Ah, Dick is fasting again?” hummed Kori, coming to curl up next to Jason like a cat, her hair winding and winding itself around them in a way that still a little uncanny as it was soothing.

“Fasting?” Jason asked with a frown, “Like, skipping meals and stuff?”

“From love,” Kori corrected him, “and from touch. He needs it like food, but sometimes he chooses to deprive himself of both for long periods of time. He would get like this from time to time as a Titian. Quick to pick a fight and extra physical when he did… violence is the only touch he allows himself during this time, so he seeks it out constantly.”

That… tracked.

“Yeah… Bruce would have us believe that none of us needed things like that,” Jason murmured, watching Dick wrestle another small time crook to the ground and punching him repeatedly.

“But you know better now, don’t you?”

Sometimes. But other times… Jason could sympathize with Dick’s plight a little too easily, and physical touch wasn’t even his love language.

“How’d you used to get him to snap out of it?” Jason asked.

“Make love to him all night long,” Kori replied, her eyes going distant.

“Ah.” Jason knew he was flushing a bit.

“Or, sometimes Wally or the others would insist on a movie night and coax him into a spot close between everyone’s bodies,” Kori said, a faint, sad smile on her face.

That was probably no little feat when Dick was hellbent on acting like a mini Bruce.

“Sounds nice,” he said, rather than unload all the mean and bitter commentary in his head. It wasn’t like he had someone to do that for him back then.

“This is nice too,” Kori rested her head on his shoulder, “with you and Roy.”

“...Yeah. It is.”

*****

Jason couldn’t stop thinking about it as the week went on. How he ever ended up with nonviolent touch in his life and Dick didn’t, Jason didn’t know.

Maybe that was why he was outside Dick’s doorstep now.

“What?” Dick answered his door. He looked terrible; dark shadows under his eyes, his skin a little pasty.

“No hello? I’m hurt Dickiebird.”

“Hello. What are you doing here?” Dick said, already looking annoyed.

Jason wished he knew.

“Brought over some extra food. You look like you haven’t had anything but takeout in a while, so…. You want it?” Jason held up the bag to show him.

“You brought food,” Dick stated, looking suspicious, “Why?”

“I just said I made extra, keep up Dickhead,” Jason shot back.

He was no good at this. He should have just bothered Wally into visiting. Someone who could get away with a casual hug.

Jason was not much of a hugger, casual or otherwise. He wasn’t too touchy-feely in general and he didn’t know why he was there… but since he was there he wasn’t going to be driven away so easily.

“Did Bruce send you here?” Dick demanded.

“Bold of you to think Bruce can make me do anything,” Jason retorted.

Dick seemed to accept that. As he should.

“Fine, whatever, just… you didn’t drug it, right?” Dick asked as he moved out of the way and let Jason inside.

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Alfred? If I was gonna drug you, I would slip it into your delivery, not some home cooked meal,” Jason scoffed.

It was really messy. It made Jason’s fingers itch for some cleaning supplies, but that wasn’t why he was there.

“Home cooked?” Dick’s eyebrows raised curiously.

“Curry,” Jason said, pulling out the containers from the bag in the little spot on the table not covered in case files, “I always thought it tasted better the day after anyway.”

“Did you make this?” Dick hesitantly came over, curiosity seeming to win out over defensive aggression.

“Who else would have?” Jason rolled his eyes, “here, heat this up will you?”

He passed over a container of rice. Their fingers brushed and Dick’s hand spasmed for a moment.

Jason didn’t comment. He knew what that was like. Going so long without any kind of touch that the slightest brush of skin felt like getting electrocuted.

“Why me?” Dick asked, hurriedly turning his back to him and fiddling with the microwave.

Because you need it.

“Oh, you know, if your ass gets any skinnier, the community will collapse on itself. Can’t have that,” Jason said breezily instead.

“What a saint.”

“Right? They should put me up in the little chapel on 5th St. I’ve already died and everything, I’m totally qualified,” Jason said, then changed the subject, “You have a toaster oven?”

“Why would I have a toaster oven?” Dick grumbled.

“Because they’re damn useful? Never mind, I’ll just use the oven,” Jason said, nudging Dick out of the way so he could reach the nobs. It wouldn’t need too much, it was just to lightly heat the naan.

“Are you eating here too?” Dick asked hesitantly.

“Might as well, it’s dinner time,” Jason shrugged.

Dick didn’t say anything to that. This time when Jason passed him the next container to heat, he didn’t flinch when their hands met, but he pulled away much more hesitantly.

This part felt a little unnatural for Jason, because he… didn’t really let people touch him who weren’t super close to him. And he and Dick- they just weren’t. It wasn’t bad, per-say, just decidedly uncomfortable.

He wasn’t planning to let that show though.

Jason bullied Dick into bantering with him as they prepped the rest of the food, all the while finding reasons to brush up against him. Let their hips touch when he checked the heat on the food, a hand on Dick’s arm to move him out of the way to open the oven, steading his hands as he stacked plates and utensils into his arms.

Dick was mostly past the shockieness and onto the needy phase by the time they got to actually eating the food. It felt a little manipulative to sit down right next to him on the couch while they ate so their legs and arms could casually brush every now and then.

The nice thing was that Jason didn’t have to initiate anymore. Now that Dick had figured out that he wasn’t going to be pushed away and that Jason was pretending not to notice, he was pressing close with every possible excuse. As he did, he chattered away about this and that, a slight nervous jiggle of his leg.

It was strange, like watching someone slowly come alive again. Like a dry plant perking up at the first taste of water. Jason wanted to somehow give him even more, but he didn’t know how. So he just stayed close.

Dick didn’t ask him to leave when they finished their food, so he didn’t.

Jason turned on the TV.

It was funny, Dick’s commentary slowly started to die down as his eyes started to drupe.

“Maybe I really should have drugged you food, when’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Jason noted, reaching over to touch his forehead. He was a little warm, but not too bad.

“When’s the last time you did?” Dick shot back, but his eyes dropped closed under his hand and he didn’t push him away.

It felt a little too intimate for Jason though, so he pulled away. Dick swayed forward a little when he moved, like a part of him want to chase his touch.

He probably did.

Jason looked away and shrugged, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Sleep. Right.

“I actually do these days, Roy or Kori kick my butt if I don’t,” he said.

“They take good care of you,” Dick said softly.

“They do,” Jason agreed, his chest feeling a little warm at the thought.

“Good,” Dick said, his expression distant as he turned back to the TV.

Jason wondered if he missed them, but didn’t ask. Dick couldn’t have burned those bridges any better if he’d tried.

They watched TV silently for a while, Dick’s finger tracing patterns on his own leg, back and forth and back and forth.

Jason felt an impulse to grab his hand, but pushed it down. That wasn’t them. Roy and Kori must have been rubbing off on him.

When Dick’s motions stopped, Jason glanced over and snickered when he found that he had dozed off. When he started to tip, Jason raised his arm so he would settle against his side instead of tipping forward and jerking awake.

He didn’t know why he did it- since it effectively trapped him for however long Dick was asleep- and he told himself that it was because Dick needed the sleep, which he did, but-

Dick made a soft little sound as he positively melted against him, even in sleep. It was such a fragile thing, so relieved, just on the edge of broken… it made Jason’s chest ache.

He let him sleep.

Jason might not be able to bury him in a pile of close friends or make love to him all night or whatever, but… he could do this.

He hesitantly carded his fingers through Dick’s hair and watched him lean into the touch desperately, lips parting in a content sigh.

Maybe for this, Jason could be enough.

#touch starved #dick grayson #jason todd #background joyfire if you squint #this could be the start of something #story requests #story prompts #my writing #Anonymous

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samwenahetbait · 3 years

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Supernatural, Season 7, and the Positive and Negative Symptoms of Schizophrenia/Psychosis

I just finished season 7 of Supernatural. Season 7 and Sam’s arc, and later Cas’ arc, interested me a lot because I’m schizoaffective (schizoaffective being schizophrenia plus a mood disorder, either bipolar or depression, in my case depression).

I’ve done a lot of research on the disorder and spectrum of disorders and when watching the beginning of honey!Cas I thought this would be a really interesting way to show the ways the show does and doesn’t portray psychotic disorders well.

I’ll be using both Sam and Cas, Sam for positive symptoms and Cas for negative symptoms, and evaluating them for how accurate they are to DSM 5 criteria for psychosis, criteria for schizophrenia (understanding that neither of them could be diagnosed due to duration and the magical nature of their problem), and accuracy to personal experience (not all psychotic experiences are the same, obviously, so this is not the most accurate test, but lets do it anyways lol)

This is gonna be long, so more under the cut!

So a bit of background of the DSM 5 criteria for schizophrenia and DSM 4 criteria for psychosis not otherwise specified, which is still in use in hospitals and doctors offices and would definitely still be used in 2012. The DSM 5 criteria for schizophrenia includes two or more of the following, with one having to be one of the first three: hallucinations, delusions (things that you believe as true even when presented evidence you’re false), disorganized speech, grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior, negative symptoms. The duration must be for six months including prodrome (mostly negative symptoms), with at least one month of active symptoms.

The DSM 4 says psychosis not otherwise specified includes delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech, grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior about which the doctor cannot make another, better diagnosis.

Positive Symptoms

“Positive” and “negative” symptoms are a bit misleading. what they really mean are positive symptoms are things the disorder adds that aren’t there originally (hallucinations, delusions, disordered speech), and negative symptoms are things that are taken away (blunted affect, poverty of speech, avolition or lack of energy)

[ID: Sam looks to the left. He says “he’s singing “stairway to heaven” right now.” End ID]

Sam is our character who experiences positive symptoms with Hallucifer. There are multiple types of hallucinations, the most common being auditory. Combination auditory and visual hallucinations are possible but they’re more rare than the media makes you believe.

Sam has a stereotypical case of what an outsider with no research may think psychosis or schizophrenia is - he has a voice that will not let him sleep, that constantly bothers him. Sam qualifies for Psychosis Not Otherwise Specified in that he has a prominent hallucination and does not qualify for another disorder.

What’s interesting about Sam’s psychosis to me watching, though, was the hallucination was the only sign of psychosis he had. It was severe and caused depression, derealization, dissociation, and insomnia but he never had delusions outside of the hallucinations, never had disordered speech outside of sleep deprivation, never had bizarre movements or disorganized behaviors. The only way to get a schizophrenia diagnosis with only hallucinations is if you have two or more voices who talk to each other, which he does not have. Sam would absolutely not qualify for a schizophrenia diagnosis.

As for personal experience - I’ve been hospitalized because voices have made it impossible for me to sleep so this arc hit close to home. I thought at times he was a little too well put together and honestly think there were moments in the season the writers forgot he was actively hallucinating. I thought that besides only having hallucinations and it being the Hollywood hallucination Sam’s arc with his “voice” was fairly easy for me to empathize with - but not easy for anyone else to treat him with respect. Here’s a link to a quiz I made about which ableist phrase used against Sam in season 7 you are

Negative Symptoms

[ID: Meg, in a nurses outfit, crosses her arms. Castiel’s profile is seen. Meg says “He’s been like the naked guy at the rave ever since he woke up.” End ID]

Cas, when absorbing Sam’s hell trauma, originally has his one positive symptom - hallucinations of Lucifer. However, after he wakes up from his coma he has one and a half noticeable positive symptoms and one and a half marked negative symptoms.

Cas experiences some form of hallucination (he tells Sam that he “sees everything” when asked what he sees) but it’s unclear what he means by this. He has noticeable disorganized speech however in that he will end conversations during important discussions and change the topic, which is an aspect of disorganized speech.

I would also argue Cas experiences a negative symptoms known in disorganized schizophrenia particularly, although anyone with psychosis can have it: inappropriate affect. Some people with schizophrenia will laugh during moments when they should be crying or show inappropriate emotional responses, uncontrolled. Cas doesn’t seem to have control over his emotions and will make jokes and laugh during tense or upsetting situations. Part of that is also due to his complete disconnect with reality and what is happening in the situation. It could also be argued he experienced disorganized movement or catatonia, as we see him staring blankly and sitting still at the end of 7.17.

Castiel definitely qualifies for PNOS through his disconnect with reality, possible hallucinations, and disorganized speech, as well as with inappropriate affect and possible catatonia. Despite having more on the list than Sam he still doesn’t qualify for schizophrenia.

This is getting longer than anticipated so I’ll try to make this section shorter. I don’t think honey!cas was written to be psychotic. I don’t think he was written with an illness in mind. I don’t think either of them were. I think Cas was written to be funny crazy and Sam to be scary crazy. But in writing a funny crazy character the writers accidentally hit somewhere personal as someone living with the cognitive and neurological effects of schizoaffective. I watched honey!cas on a bad cognitive day and sobbed when they were mean to him because I related to the disorganized speech and the inappropriate behavior. Is it good representation? No. It’s exaggerated and ridiculed. It’s deeply ableist. And the way the writer’s treat him and have others treat him is deeply ableist. But I did find myself relating and rooting for him.

Fandom Response

I haven’t been in Supernatural fandom long (four months) and being involved with fandom while watching the show has been interesting. I’ve had pretty much everything at least somewhat spoiled so I was excited to see honey!cas and psychotic Sam in something other than gifs. I’ve seen maybe three people talk about sam’s psychosis, maybe because I don’t follow enough sam blogs, but it’s not something I’ve seen a lot of. everyone i’ve seen has been psychotic and made it clear he’s a psychotic character or been supportive of viewing him as psychotic. But honey!cas is very popular and...sexualized?

I’ve seen two responses to honey!cas: he’s so crazy or he’s so slutty. I’m going to ask both of those groups of people to see the character as a person experiencing cognitive issues and a break from reality. Not saying not to talk about honey!cas - he’s interesting, but please don’t sexualize him for being quirky when by quirky you mean delusional and please don’t do the opposite and demonize him for being vulnerable (and if that’s crazy. you should see me off my meds)

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam #castiel #cas #sam safe space

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purefrickingspite · 3 years

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I got some fun ideas from an AU made by @delia9751 , so here's a fic for it!

It turns out most mobs had a problem in common, none of them could tie their shoes. Most players didn't know this because they didn't take the time to observe mobs carefully, they were either busy running away or killing the mobs.

However Grian, when he was a doll, managed to observe mobs a lot better than he normally would get to. The mobs didn't attack him because he wasn't seen as a threat, and would generally be indifferent to his presence. That was untill the creeper incident.

Although that day had been filled with chaos, doll!Grian had managed to learn that creepers actually wore shoes. From then on he helped the creepers tie their shoes and started tying the shoes of any other mobs that would let him. He made friends with many drowned, zombies, skeletons, and even piglin when he was allowed in the nether.

Even after Grian was turned back into his normal self, mobs would get his help to tie their shoes. It became habit for him to approach any mob and tie it's shoes as soon as he saw it.

One MCC morning Grian was particularly tired. He had spent most nights for the past week working on builds and probably hadn't had more than a few hours of sleep in a while. His mind felt fuzzy and his eyesight was a bit blurry, but he was determined to compete and try his best. After all, nothing a little coffee couldn't fix right?

Before Grian could make it to a coffee machine he saw what looked like a piglin out of the corner of his eye. Reflexively, he walked over to the supposed mob and tied it's shoes, then casually walked away to find a coffee machine.

While Grian wandered away in his sleep deprived haze, Technoblade stood there stunned. Most people were afraid to even approach the "blood god" but some little gremlin had just come up and tied his shoes, then left before techno could even ask for his name. His teammates next to him were pretty shocked too, but they quickly got over it with a few laughs. Techno, on the other hand, swore to himself that he would protect the one person who hadn't been afraid if him at first sight.

Throughout the tournament, Technoblade was constantly thinking about the guy who had tied his shoes in the back of his mind. Unfortunately he hadn't run into the person, but Techno was sure he could find him soon. The last event came and his team had qualified for dodgebolt. As techno looked through the stands he spotted a familiar red sweater, the same one worn by the person who had tied his shoes that morning.

He was delighted to see that this person was supporting his team for dodgebolt. One of his teammates caught him looking at Grian, and said "still haven't gotten over what grian did this morning huh techno? " Then laughed as they walked away to prepare for the fight.

So Grian is his name, thought Techno.

Finally, both final teams made their way to the arena. As they waited for the signal to start the other competitors hyped up their team and each other, bit techno turned around instead. "Grian I love you!" He yelled to the stands. " I would never disrespect you grian!'

At first Grian was confused, why had the PvP god just said that to him of all people. Then he decided why not roll with it anyway and shouted back, "go on Techno! I'm with you!" His teammates looked a little surprised that he was such good friends with Techno, but when Grian explained they hadn't even talked before they were even more shocked. "Technoblade is one of the scariest players out there Grian, what did you do to get his attention?"

Although most people in his situation would be scared of one of the best fighters in minecraft, Grian didn't care all that much about Technoblade and his reputation. Heck most people were scared of mobs but Grian wasn't scared of them either. Besides techno didn't seem to have any ill will towards him, and he figured why not be friends with the blood god.

After dodgebolt Techno ended up walking up to Grian. He was a bit nervous that maybe he had confused something about the situation, and Grian would be scared if him after all. But he pushed those nerves down and tapped on Grians shoulder, causing him to turn around. "Hey do you think we could hang out for a bit!?" Techno asked. Grian looked towards his teammates who were frozen in technos presence, then looked back. "Sure that sounds fun"

Even though they had first met on accident, Techno and Grian ended up having a great friendship. Grian wasn't scared of Techno at all, since he already dealt with mobs all the time, and Techno started teaching Grian more about PvP. It was an unlikely friendship, the friendly builder and the closed off fighter, but they say opposites attract for a reason! Besides, Techno still needed help tying his shoes from time to time.

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amythecinnabunny · 3 years

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Space AU and Time Travel for Juke 👀 <33

Holy shit holy shit holy shit ok ok ok ok first of all AKDBJSJSJJEJE YES

Okay okay so let me try to iron out the mess in my head skxbjsjjd I hereby apologize if things get out of order or whatever but I am literally vibrating with excitement someone please write this I'll love you forever

Ok so I'm thinking also an aged up au for ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* reasons *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ sjsnnsn

Also, I've done this before and I'm gonna do it again, but Bobby and Trevor are two different people for the sake of the timeline here.

Time frame for this would be WAY into the future. Humanity has gone galactic. We also had our asses handed to us by several alien planets but we probably deserved it. Anyway, after we got rid of Elon Musk, we eventually made peace with the aliens and now roam the galaxy freely. 20-30yo generally try to get into a different fleet, just to learn about other races. Think all those alien ships adopts a human posts.

Julie, Carrie and Flynn are my three girl geniuses. They're like,,, the smartest people in every room. They've been like this since freshman year of college. Julie, Carrie and Flynn also all want to get into the student exchange program, which is exactly what you think it is. Alien races (and this now includes humanity) swaps out older students with each other so they get a feel of what the other race is like. It's fun, educational, and! You get to make super long distance pen pals!

I'd also have so much fun making up new memes???? It would be so fucking stupid tho but I love it.

Anyway, so after a few years of jumping through the exchange programme, hoping from planet to planet, unfortunately, without their bestfriends :<, the three of them qualify to board research ships!!!

So at like 23-25, my girls come back together on the same ship!! Its a massive thing and so they've hired so many interns from so many different races. It's like a landing hub for several smaller ships. They have like 10 interns per species and that's only because there are laws against having too many of one kind after they put 50 humans on a space station and the humans tried to take over. Also, humans multiply faster than the others. This terrifies some races.

Anyway, the ship's really just a bunch of college kids from different planets trying to avoid exam season by submitting research papers from their ship. They all bond over deadlines, breakups and coffee (or the alien equivalent thereof)

Flynn dated an alien girl for a while. They were cute. Flynn: as a lesbian, it's my duty to date all the women in space

This is also where they run into Willie!!! Yay, Willie!!!

Nick Danforth-Evans and Kayla Evans-McKessie are around ... somewhere ... in bunk beds like the little toddlers they wish they were, crying about the 15 page essay on why Xjsbsjdjd is a very intelligent race that we could learn a lot from (yes, that is a keysmash I'm too buzzed to be creating alien species names sjdjjdjd)

Carrie and Nick do date for a while but then Carrie hooked up with Kayla. Bisexual queen who?

Julie met Willie that time she didn't sleep for over 48 hours because she had a research paper due within a week and she hadn't started yet and it was 10 000 words on her experiences with the Psjxjjdkeiwj race. Luckily for her, the kid she bumped into and spilled an energy drink all over had the same paper and helped her finish it. Willie sometimes goes by the nickname Lifesaver, thanks to Julie. This confuses the metaphor-less people because Willie's never saved anyone's life?? So why is he a lifesaver??

ANYWAY ON TO THE TIME TRAVEL BIT

On their own, Julie, Carrie and Flynn are professional smart people who know what they're saying and are clever enough not to do things with too many risks. In the same room, however, they turn into dumb geniuses who can and possibly may blow up the entire ship. It's a good thing they have Willie, Nick and Kayla to babysit them, right? WRONG. Willie Kayla and Nick egg them on.

They decide there going to gather all the information there is on time travel and they're going to decipher it and make it work! Yay!

When they find stuff in alien languages they start calling up their alien pen pals "hello what's this word mean in this context? What, haha oh no, it's a research paper on why time travel projects were abandoned before completion. Okay, thank you!"

Before long, they have a working time machine. I mean,, they hope so. And so they enter a random date from the past and prepare to pop their heads through just to see what the world looked like approximately 200ish years ago

2020s, post covid because that exists for joke reasons later, Sunset Curve is performing live for one of their biggest audiences yet when mid-song, the floor just opens them up and swallows them whole before vanishing. The crowd things it's a stunt but Sunset Curve's managers are flipping their shit

Back on the ship, the machine starts sparking and with a soft boom and a hiss, the power in that quadrant goes out -- not before Willie's is pelted in the face with a pair of drumsticks and then a whole person.

It's a miracle the drums survived the trip, pet alone everything else.

So now these sleep deprived geniuses and co. have to hide three people and several musical artifacts, plus the smoking remains of a time machine, from their Supervising Officer, who is regrettably, a human too.

And none of them are very good at lying.

Luke and Bobby are though, and after piecing together bits and pieces from the frenzied rambling around them, Luke and Bobby save the group.

Shenanigans ensue as they try to rebuild the time machine under the watchful eye of the SO, while trying to mantainbfake credentials for the boys and trying to explain their very dated clothing. (Yes, Sunset Curve STILL rocks the 90s vibe. In the 2020s. It's their thing.)

Willex happens in the background -- and I mean that very literally. (Jukebox having a tension moment, Willex making out in the background.)

Honestly I'm not sure yet how theyd solve the problems, whether they'd send the boys back or not or what, but I do know that they will all cause a BUNCH of problems in between.

Sometimes they play music just because they still can. Sunset Curve becomes a house band for the ship. They get broadcasted to neighbouring or passing ships like "hey, losers, we have live music, SUCK IT!"

Focusing on the jukebox aspect of this whole fic, that's gonna be a fucking hilarious slow burn.

It will definitely contain the lines "Oh my god, I have a crush on Julie." "Congratulations, you're officially the last to know." "What? Even [SO's Name] knows??" "Dude. The ship's navigation crew knows." "Does ... Julie know?" "No, you're both morons."

Julie is having the exact same conversation four hallways away.

They'd talk a lot about sending the boys back home and it'd be really quiet conversations when everyone else is asleep.

Julie and Luke write music together and after a while, Julie performs a few of them too. Thanks to the concerts, they meet the other human interns that were on the other end of the ship and Carrie and Kayla form Dirty Candy.

The ship becomes known as the party bus.

A thing that will happen: Luke helps Julie write one of her history papers that she gets an A+ for and a comment about how dedicated she was to have delved so far back in the history records to get authentic insight.

Julie and Luke speak in memes but they don't speak the same memes and it drives them both up the wall.

Luke says yeet one day and Julie's soul leaves her body because she hasn't heard anyone say yeet since she was a toddler back on Earth.

Julie: odd display, but acceptable.

Luke, physically experiencing a record scratch: what the fuck did you just say

That is all I have to offer because I'm afraid of plotting further and causing angst somehow.

oh one more thing, someone gets to bang an alien and it's probably Flynn.

Oh oh oh another one more thing. Reggie says "this is just like in Star Wars" for literally anything. The band goes along with it for shits and giggles. The rest of them are very interested in this ancient tale called Star Wars. Reggie sees a picture of Flynn and her green gf and says "hey, you dated photoshopped Yoda" and Bobby just loses his shit.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp fic idea #ask #ask meme #thanks for the ask!#trope mashup ask #long post

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gingus-doon · 3 years

Text

pov u just shot your childhood hero, wdyd

i.e. i ramble about keiji post-shooting; his occupation, what he does, how he copes, how he feels, etc. etc.

just putting this little thing here because the post got quite long and i couldn't split it up because it's all somewhat related. it started out as a rant / informal ramble but then it got serious lololol

—

one thing i don't understand is why people hc keiji as still having a job with the police post-shooting? like that just doesn't make sense to me– not only based on his character but like... why would you wanna make him a cop with all the talk of how much the police suck lately? personally i'm a brown bitch so i couldn't be down with thirsting over a cop lol. it's just kinda confusing sjdhd

i've seen the hc of him as a private investigator, though, which i like! it's a very neat way to let him flex his detective skills without being part of a corrupt organization and without forsaking his own personal beliefs and feelings about the police, because i don't think those would change anywhere near easily and i just kinda can't see him going back into the police force because of that.

i have often wondered what keiji would do after the death game, and what he was doing before the death game or after the shooting, because i think he'd definitely quit after the shooting, with all the grief and trauma surrounding the job and his newfound cynicism.

i don't think he'd be doing private investigation before the game, or more specifically, before his character develops into something reminiscent of his old self– as he is at the start of the game, he just doesn't have that faith in protection, so i can't imagine him being an investigator at that point. HOWEVER, in a post death game OR non-death game au where keiji has started to pull himself up from that tar (most likely with the help of others lol) i think that's definitely a plausible option for him and i like it a lot :]

as for other options, though... i really don't know! this is more of a stupid idea but i considered him working in a convenience store like shin lol. i had a whoooole au about him, kai, and shin working in the same convenience store just because they can't hold down any other jobs / don't know what else to do for work. shin is able to actually hold down the job because the last manager was mysteriously taken out of commission (i don't know lol) and they were ridiculously short-staffed already so shin ended up being the "most qualified" for the now vacant position. keiji's had a string of odd jobs since the police and this is just the next one. he's hoping to find something with a better wage but this'll do for now, it's even in walking distance from his apartment. and kai, kai's trying to exercise more independence from the chidouins' after becoming his own person! so he gets what i think would be his first job (well, his first official job, anyway... being an assassin and the chidouins' personal maid were more unofficial gigs lol.) ahh that was a lotta rambling about my dumb little au but i just think it'd be neat, they're three of my favourite characters so having them just vibe with each other at work and become friends sounds nice 2 me :] also Coincidentally i ship literally every combination of those three characters so that may have played a part in my casting decisions lmfao

oh wow that was a really long and uncalled for synopsis but this is just a rambly post so it can't really be uncalled for because this post doesn't have any particular point lol (A/N after writing this— IT HAS A POINT NOW, DISREGARD PAST ME)

SO ANYWAY ! i was just considering what keiji would do right after the shooting. honestly i have noooo idea, it's the beginning of a long road of him burying his trauma in a desperate attempt to avoid facing the pain it brings, and it marks a profound loss of innocence which makes his heart begin to grow cold. it's just hard to see the beginning of the process when where he started and where he ended up are very different places.

obviously, he'd quit his job. i wonder if the hallucinations would start right away? him being naïve in the beginning, i'm sure he'd acknowledge them– cry out apologies and plead for forgiveness until his throat is hoarse. the rule of hallucinations in yttd seems to be that if you acknowledge them, they'll burn themselves into your brain and you'll never be rid of them– implying that keiji has done so, as it's likely been years since the shooting and he's still suffering from the visions despite seeming to ignore them now.

ahh, i'm getting in my feelings about keiji now 😭😭 when i started this, i wanted to be held by him, but now i just wanna hug him like damnnnn

but back to what he'd do after the shooting– this scenario is self indulgent, but wouldn't it be nice if he took some time off and just stayed at his mom's place for a while? help her with chores while she's at work, try to regain a sense of normalcy in his childhood home...

i don't think he'd be able to do this right after the shooting. keiji had shame, once upon a time– the guilt would rack him like nothing else. i can imagine him spending a lot of late nights with alcohol, just wishing it was a dream. his resentment towards megumi slowly building as he feels he's being left in the dark as to why, why he isn't allowed to atone, why she's being so cold towards him about the shooting when he's suffering so heavily from the effects of it.

he wouldn't want to be around his dear mom as a murderer, and as a resentful alcoholic who's coping very poorly with his circumstances.

also (tangent incoming), i kind of wonder about keiji and alcohol a lot. in his fondness events with mishima, he says the following—

the "haven't drank that much in years" part makes me wonder– for how long? did he start to restrain himself before the shooting or after? i would say it's most likely after, considering the "feels like it'll swallow me up" comment he made soon after. and, how he talked about binge drinking when he was still a newbie. perhaps it was fine for him to do so, before the shooting— he'd just get wasted and flirt, have a good time. but after, it morphed into an inefficient coping mechanism which he fell far within the depths of to try and control the worst of his grief and self hatred. after that, heavy drinking couldn't just be for fun anymore.

i assume in the "before it got this way" comment, the "way" he's referring to is how he doesn't drink much anymore? or, he could be talking about the depression drinking, but i think the prior makes more sense.

even though i think, given keiji's example of drinking with megumi, that he could have gotten blackout drunk a couple of times purely for fun pre-shooting, i think here he's referring to the painful side of his relationship with alcohol here, the part that took place when he was trying to cope with his trauma. i think he brings up the story of drinking with megumi immediately after, then, to avoid talking about that part of his past. though he doesn't show it much, i think he's deeply ashamed of himself. not only of what he's done, but how he's handled it afterwards.

on a lighter note, though, it's quite funny to think of Lawful Good young keiji shinogi getting drunk off his ass and flirting with every woman he comes across willing to flirt back. like, what's up with that??? he seems like such a serious dork in the flashbacks, but doing well in his police job, he just... lets loose?? no no, honestly i think he hadn't drank much before going out with megumi and he took her insistence on him drinking a little too far, and with his inexperience with alcohol and the successive lack of self restraint that comes with each new drink, you get casanova shinogi, lmao.

BACK TO THE SERIOUS STUFF THOUGH !! i really like the idea of him going to his mom to help him pull himself back together. i think they'd have a solid relationship, fight me! he seems to adore his mom as a child with a good single parent usually does. i'm sure he appreciates her immensely for all the care and love she managed to give him when he was a kid while also working her ass off to support them financially. this very respect for her is what i think would drive him to isolate himself from her after the shooting– as i said above, he's a murderer now. a disappointing human being in general, and an even worse son. to let down his mother who worked so hard to raise him right... how could he? as his condition worsens and his heart grows colder, i'm sure that feeling would fester inside of him. he'd try to ignore it, as he does with everything else, but it's already wrapped its tendrils around his soul. that particular guilt isn't leaving him any time soon.

now that i'm thinking about it, also, i don't think it's likely that he'd quit his job right right away. it'd be more of a slow descent over the span of a few weeks. immediately after the shooting, he may stop showing up to work for a while. he just can't put on that uniform when it's practically caked in the blood of someone he held in such high esteem for so long. eventually, though, he gets a hold on himself– just a bit. he doesn't want to be cooped up in his apartment with his thoughts anymore, and he doesn't want to lose his job. what else would he do?

so, he takes it easy on the first few days back. megumi tries to make it easy for him. paperwork, whatever job he could do that's not on the field. he clings to her like a wounded puppy, hoping that she'll explain why she's covering it up when he doesn't want her to, what he's supposed to do with these feelings around the incident. he's drowning, and she's made herself a big sister figure to him– she's supposed to help him. but, she shrugs him off when he brings it up. she's so harsh about it compared to how she usually speaks to him. perhaps because of her own guilt around the incident, perhaps it's the family's response and how keiji is now, how panicked and sleep deprived the poor kid has looked since that day.

so he continues to spiral with nothing to hold on to. grasps at alcohol in a futile attempt to stop falling, because it's all he can think to fall back on. he's a wreck at work– he's barely living, much less working. but megumi tries her best to keep him from getting fired. she'll get him coffee and breakfast and try to say something encouraging. "hey. hang in there, shinogi." with a touch on the shoulder. but in spite of her efforts, of course, it hits a breaking point. everyone in the job thinks keiji's too damaged to continue, saying he either needs to see a shrink or get the hell out of the way and let everyone else do their job.

and keiji just stops coming into work one day.

the downward spiral ensues.

#your turn to die #keiji shinogi #yttd keiji #kimi ga shine #i really just wrote this much just about keiji like goddamn. calm down @ me #it's not that much tho i checked and it's like not even 2000 words 😔😔#i got sad writing some of the angstier parts of this. like keiji... my darling.... let me hug him #i feel like there's a lot to be said about ~after the shooting~ and the process of him becoming the man he is now #there's lotsa speculation about that here from me specifically lol #i'd kinda kill to read a fic that goes into this stuff! no ship or anything just keiji. and megumi and his mom #i wonder if it exists 👀👀👀 but there are few things without ships that exist....#anyway i love keiji more now somehow #i am super keiji simp trust #i am tired tho lol i think i'll sleep now. maybe #OH ALSO!!! it's very fitting that the last line mentions the downward spiral #because i was thinking of the nin album by that title earlier today #specifically keiji and a certain track. I WILL NOT SAY WHICH TRACK. YOU DO NOT NEED TO KNOW

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thesassenachswiftie · 3 years

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Lover - Chapter 12:”Death by a Thousand Cuts”

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Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11

Summary: It's time for Jamie to leave to go to London.

"Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts Flashbacks waking me up I get drunk, but it's not enough 'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby..."

Notes:Thanks for reading! We've had a grand few chapters of fluff and smut, but we're not off the angst train yet I'm sorry to say. We all knew this was coming, Jamie has to go back to his wee Christmas tree farm outside of London, leaving Claire on Long Island. At least they're still together! Just a short little chapter for them to say goodbye this week.

Chapter 12: “Death by a Thousand Cuts”

Jamie and Claire spent the rest of the week cherishing every moment they had left together. Claire came straight back to the Murray farm every day after work and helped Jamie with whatever work he was doing on the farm, getting to know the Murray family in the process, and the couple spent late nights of love-making and promise-making in Jamie’s bed. Every moment they had left together was sacred. Their time, their wine, their spirits, their trust, there wasn’t a part of each other that they didn’t take up. By Friday night they were both sleep deprived and wept in each other’s arms, knowing it was their last night together. Usually, Jamie could quiet Claire’s fears with the touch of his hand, but that night their fears were shared. They fell asleep exhausted, puffy-eyed and wrapped in each other’s embrace, boarding up the windows of their love for the season, protecting it and keeping it safe.

Their final physical joining came the next morning; it was weepy, slow and indulgent. Claire gave Jamie everything she could: her heart, her hips, her body, her love--there wasn’t a part of her that he didn’t touch, and he gave as much to her. They kept as many points of contact between them as they could--hands were always on the other, their bodies facing each other always, making eye contact as they moved in rhythm with each other, savoring every sensation big and small. They lay in each other’s embrace afterwards, unable to let go. Easily convincing themselves that if they stayed in bed the day would never begin and Jamie wouldn’t have to leave. Eventually there was a knock at the door of the apartment. “Yes?!” Jamie grunted, well aware that it was likely his sister.

In fact, Jenny’s voice responded from the other side of the door “You two best be getting out of bed so ya can say goodbye ta yer family brathair! Dinna make me get a bucket of water to splash on you two! I’ve got a hearty breakfast prepared for ya and it’ll get cold if yer not down ta tha house in 10 minutes!”

“Aye Janet, I’m about ready, no need for a water bucket we’ll be down shortly.” Jamie shouted back.

Claire whimpered as Jamie peeled himself out of the bed to dress for breakfast.

“I know, mo nighean donn” he whispered, brushing a curl from her face and kissing her forehead. “I know.” Usually Jamie would have the perfect words to say to transform Claire’s mood, but all he could do was share in her pain, because it was his pain too. I can’t pretend that it’s ok when it’s not. He thought, trying to come up with something to say. There was no easy way to do this. Saying good-bye was death by a thousand cuts.

----------

Claire had agreed over a family dinner earlier that week to drive Jamie to the airport, much to Jenny and Ian’s relief. Jamie was flying out from a small airport an hour North of the city and neither of the Murray’s felt inclined to lose half a Saturday when there was always work to do on the farm, in addition to minding the children off from school for the weekend. The Murray’s found that Claire was a helpful addition to the family, even in the short week she spent on their homestead. This was shown particularly when wee Janet threw a toy at Michael’s head causing him to gush blood, which in turn sent Jenny into a near panic. Claire used her medical expertise to clean and bandaged the wound, able to keep her cool despite the gory scene before her. She assured Jenny Michael would not need stitches, that heads just bled a lot, having many blood vessels to supply oxygen to the brain. Claire continued to check and dress the wound for Michael throughout the week, and Michael, having gotten over the initial shock and pain of the event, was now looking forward to having a ‘cool forehead scar like Harry Potter’. The event was a blessing in disguise for Claire and Jamie, because Jamie became assured that Claire had won Jenny over and wasted no time asking her if Claire could stay. Jenny agreed enthusiastically, thrilled to have a nurse on call as her children were inclined to taking risks and getting into small accidents.

Claire couldn’t believe how her life had completely transformed in the space of a week. She had started her life as an only child, continued her upbringing with her single uncle after her parents’ untimely death, drifted into Frank’s arms in college only to find herself completely alone in a large, suburban McMansion. She had never had more than one or two people she could call family and now here she was, surrounded by the vibrancy and love of a large, chaotic brood. They were quick to embrace her as one of their own and Claire couldn’t believe she had lived her whole life without the feeling of family. She was elated to be included and was glad she had loved ones to surround herself with when Jamie was gone. She knew it wouldn’t be an easy season, but having people who loved Jamie just as much as she did close by was reassuring.

----------

Jamie drove to the airport since Claire would be driving the whole way home alone. For the most part the drive was silent, save for the radio playing in the background. What station it was tuned to, neither of them could say, their thoughts were elsewhere. Everything there was to be said had already been said, and anything that was spoken would only lead to another deluge of tears. All they could do was hold hands, desperately trying to keep one another close, unable to let go just yet. The airport was so small that the security line extended into the lobby, unlike the winding queues Claire was used to seeing at JFK or LaGuardia. Claire waited in line with him for as long as she could, wishing desperately she could go through with him and part with him at the gate. This made for an awkward parting, where they let several people cut ahead of them in line as they said their final farewell.

“Sassenach, you know this is a great love we have, one for the ages. If there were still bards in this world they’d sing a tale of our love. We’re strong enough to get through this.” Jamie assured her. He was holding her close and kissed her forehead softly through his tears.

Claire was sobbing so hard she could hardly reply. All she could manage to choke out was “Jamie, I love you. I’ll always love you.”

They embraced firmly, soaking each other’s shoulders with tears. They gave each other one last sloppy, passionate kiss, that lasted as long as it could before the person behind them in line cleared their throat loudly to encourage them to get on with it. They held hands as Jamie moved away to the security official. Claire stood outside the barrier until Jamie finally disappeared into the airport on the other side of security, glancing back as much as he could, giving a final wave as he rushed off to his gate in a final flash of red hair.

Losing sight of him, Claire fled from the airport and back to the car, collapsing over the steering wheel she cried until she could cry no more, she had no idea how long she sobbed, meanwhile, texting Jamie final good-byes before he had to shut his phone off while the plane taxied. In their text, they made solid promises and paper thin plans to see each other soon. Jamie desperately wanted to come home for American Thanksgiving, but knowing that was when business really started to pick up for him, he didn’t know if he could allow his godfather and his hired hand to take over so much responsibility. Maybe she could come visit him, but she would have to take a few extra days off work and it was so hard to find qualified nurses to substitute for her in her absence. Jamie did promise he would see her at Christmas no matter what. He always took a red-eye Christmas Eve to visit his family over the winter holidays, unable to miss Christmas and Hogmanay with the Murray’s. Seeing the unbridled joy on his niece’s and nephew’s faces on Christmas morning was one of the greatest pleasures of Jamie’s life, at least until he met Claire. Now, he was ecstatic at the idea of sharing the experience of her, and Claire was looking forward to it as well. Usually she drove up to Boston to visit her Uncle Lamb and they had a humble dinner and small gift exchange. The Murray’s assured her she could invite Lamb and Claire was looking forward to her first experience of a large family Christmas.

Eventually, Claire’s tears dried up, leaving only their sadness and she was able to see well enough to drive home. She took the long way home, not wanting to risk the speed of the expressway in her emotional state, and not ready to face an existence without Jamie upon her arrival home. Not having anyone else to talk to, Claire asked the traffic lights if it would be alright, and they responded with a silent reply of “I don’t know”. The tears were starting to flow again as Claire returned to Long Island again, and she decided to stop at her house to pack some of her things before returning to Jamie’s empty apartment. She sighed as she entered the foyer, the chandelier still flickering above her as she flipped the switch, somewhat comforted by the familiar emptiness of the space. She was used to this house being empty and devoid of love, she could live with the feeling there, she wasn’t sure if she could live with the feeling of being where Jamie once lived and breathed and moved and cooked and bathed and made love to her, constantly feeling he should be there doing those things.

She spent hours packing, organizing and reorganizing her things, dressing in old clothes to see if she still liked them, anything to kill the time so she could prolong the inevitable. If she was there, she could still pretend Jamie was at his apartment, she could pretend everything was ok when it wasn’t. She remembered those first nights staying at the house after Frank left. He had given up on her like she was a bad drug, walked out never to return again, hired someone to pack his things, gone without a goodbye. His absence, though haunting brought with it a sense of relief. There was emptiness, but at least his stifling presence wasn’t filling the space. Frank had been intolerable in their final weeks; he was mistrusting, manipulative, condescending and controlling, even before Claire had acted on her desire for Jamie. She had been on her best behavior, trying to be the perfect future-wife to him. She gave him so much, but it wasn’t enough to win him over, to bring him back to the man she had fallen in love with. If anything, Frank’s distrust was a catalyst for her unfaithfulness. She remembered thinking damned if I do, damned if I don’t so I might as well. At that time, an empty home was a comfort to her--now, she knew that wouldn't be the case.

The sky grew dark and Claire had filled her car up with boxes. Even if she had more to pack, she couldn’t have fit anymore and it was time to face the inevitable task of going home to an empty bed. On the drive back through a small town she saw Jamie everywhere, thinking of all the drives they had shared on those very roads, hand in hand, anticipating whatever would come next.

Once she arrived, she unloaded some of the boxes into the garage, where Jenny had cleared a space for her to store her belongings that wouldn’t fit in Jamie’s small apartment. There weren’t many boxes, just some trinkets and souvenirs from her travels with Uncle Lamb, and old photo albums and memorabilia from her parents that she kept tucked away. She left all the dishes and decorations at the house, Frank could decide what to do with them when he sold the place, she no longer had any interest in the relics of a cookie-cutter life she put together with Frank. The boxes filled with her clothes and shoes could wait until morning, she left those in the car and ascended the steps to Jamie’s apartment.

The ghost of his presence haunted the room, it was as if he had vanished into thin air. There were so many signs of him: his summer clothes were still in the closet, his unwashed glass on the kitchen counter, his sandals placed beside the door. The bedsheets still smelled like him. Everything smelled like him. This apartment, which in the past week had gone from his to ours, felt like it was no one’s now. Claire poured herself a healthy portion of whiskey and headed to the bed, taking the bottle with her. Her tear ducts had replenished themselves and she was crying again. She was torn between wanting to bury her face in Jamie’s pillow, and worried that the saltiness of her tears would dilute Jamie’s scent, the most tangible thing she had left of him. She spent the rest of the night crying herself to sleep and getting drunk, but it wasn’t enough; the morning came and he was still gone. Her dreams were restless, memories of him, flashbacks of their life together kept wandering in and out of her subconscious, occasionally waking her up to the devastating reminder that he wasn’t really there.

End Notes: I'm not making any promises about next week's chapter being on time. Posting on Friday was a self-imposed deadline, but 1. grades are due next week (I'm a teacher) and 2. the next chapter is really personal and emotionally difficult for me to write (but also a healthy cathartic thing). I may still post on schedue because my superintendent did reward us with an extra day off next week and there's a good chance that Thanksgiving dinner will be just my husband and I which will allow for more time for writing, but I just wanted to give you all a heads up in case it isn't ready. Happy Thanskgiving to all my US readers, stay safe!

#lover #death by a thousand cuts #outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jenny murray #angst #inspired by taylor swift

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