#and that was so stressful and then i came home to a sick kitty
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i have had a shitty 48 hours and all i want is a nap
#i was handed a new project at work unexpectedly and had to start it completely on my own#and that was so stressful and then i came home to a sick kitty#and got basically zero sleep last night from trying to take care of her and worrying about her#and so i'm exhausted and then at work had to finish the project and help with another#and had to get missy a vet appointment and get her to that today too#and now i have to figure out how to get her to use a new litter box so i can get a urine sample from her to take back to the vet tomorrow#and i still haven't gotten all the christmas presents i need to get#so some of my friends just won't get gifts until late cause there's no way they'll be here on time now#and i'm on my period and i have a headache and i need to do laundry because kitty pooped on my sheets#and threw up on her towels#and i'm really tired which means i am starting to get physical symptoms (thanks for always doing that body 🙃 it's so helpful)#so my lunch is making me super nauseous which fucking sucks#i'm just done
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In order to explain my cats' latest obsession, I have to give you some history. Behind a cut, warnings for Cat Illness.
In 2015, both K and I were working a lot and I felt bad that my>our cat, Luna, was being left alone for hours on end. So we decided to get a second cat - thus, Evie joined the family. Now, being that Evie was about 2 years old and Luna was about 5 years old, they didn't really enjoy the Sudden Roommate Situation [SRS]. It took a lot longer than normal for the introductory methods to work. (They still tolerate each other more than anything but they seem to have made their peace, eight years on.)
Anyway, we got Evie in November of 2015 and in January of 2016 I lost my job and Luna also developed an ongoing UTI due to the stress of the SRS. (Between this and the Politics Situation at the time, I was so stressed I skipped my period for almost seven months. I don't think any of us have recovered.) Anyway, so Luna had to go on antibiotics, and the antibiotics gave her diarrhea, so we also put her on probiotics, but the probiotics (I learned later) gave her worse diarrhea, and the stress of constant upset stomach meant that she kept having ongoing UTIs which meant ongoing antibiotics/probiotics, etc., in a vicious cycle. I'm still mad at that vet because they refused to slow down to consider me asking "what if the fact that it's making her sick is contributing to the infection" and kept just assigning more rounds of antibiotics that I couldn't afford. Yeah that credit card JUST got paid off two months ago.
A N Y W A Y. The result of all this is that it tore poor Luna's stomach up to the point that she couldn't eat any kind of dry treat or kibble. Literally, one Greenie treat would instantly give her the shits. This means that both cats have been on wet-food-only for like, seven years. It's expensive, and not great for their teeth, but also Luna wasn't shitting herself constantly so you take what you can get. I occasionally tried samples of kibble that advertised themselves as Sensitive Stomach Formulae over the years but none of them were successful.
Fast forward to two weeks ago, when I was at my parents' for my dad's surgery and Kellie stayed home with the cats. She had to go get some more wet food for them during this time and while at the pet store, she eyed a bag of kibble that said it was for Sensitive Stomachs and had a strong impulse to Try It. So she got a small bag. Texted me about it. I said "You're awfully brave trying that while I'm not home to give her a bath when her back end winds up covered in poop at 2am."
But miracle of all miracles: Luna can tolerate this kibble. We started very very small - less than 1/8 of a cup once a day - and have been working our way up. We are at 1/6 of a cup once a day now, and there has been no stomach upset!
This is great news for multiple reasons, but one of them is that we can now have an automatic feeder which means that we can take short overnight trips without needing a cat-sitter. For long trips, of course, we'd still want someone checking in on them and giving them their supplement of wet food.
We have one such short overnight trip coming up in two weeks, so I took advantage of Black Friday sales on one of my favorite pet brands (their water fountain also came from PetLibro) and ordered them a two-bowl pet feeder. It came in yesterday (love Black Friday being a week long now) and I set it up last night. I tested it at the time by having it dispense 1/12 of a cup of kibble. Worked great! tipped most of it back into the granary and let the kitties have a couple of pieces as a treat.
WELL. They now cannot enter the room without paying tribute to the Fickle God of Kibble, aka Sammy the Automatic Feeder, just in case he has decided to dispense more kibble.
They just had their first scheduled 9am feeding, and both of them ran around like they were losing their minds before diving in mouth-first, so I am deeply amused and will be watching these developments with interest.
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hi,
it's been a while. i have news i'd like to share. yesterday night, we euthanized my beloved kitty, gamzee marilyn harvey. as you may have surmised from my posts these last few years, she was very sick and she fought fiercely until she could no more. she had the fortune of passing away in her sleep, surrounded by us, her family, in the comfort of her home, with no complications.
she was a very difficult cat. she was my baby, my companion, my first and only cat, and i loved her every single day of her life, no matter how feral she got and how hard she bit and scratched, how despairingly taxing her 24/7 care became. i adore her, and i always will.
i'm telling you this because all commissions, every single bit of income i have made for the past 3+ years, went exclusively towards her and her treatment. i have told my friends, i have thanked her many doctors, but i have to let you guys know. without your support, spreading my posts, following and commissioning, i would not have been able to pay for all that she needed. it is without a doubt in part thanks to your support that what -under a lesser guardian than i -would have been around 8 years of being a menace, turned into 12 hard yet beautiful years she could spend in her home doing whatever she wanted in her life as a mean and wonderful kitty.
your support bought meds, taxi drives, supplies and vet appointments, and it all brought us to the natural, rather than untimely, point where she very simply could no longer go on. i miss her immensely and always will, but i know for a fact i did everything and beyond for her, and i gave her the best life she could have ever had, illnesses and all.
you demonstrably played a part on that. so i have to thank you very honestly.
i got a job now. i got my first real paycheck in years and all i had time to pay with it were her funerary expenses. before that, a good chunk of the costs related to caring for her came from you. i cannot stress it enough.
maybe we'll do fun doodle requests as a thank you sometime in the future. that would be fun. for now, i humbly request that you give your little creatures a snuggle or kiss from me. every single pet in the world with a good owner is the most beloved pet in the world, and i hope yours know that.
thank you again so much. she is at last in real, real peace, and you helped pave this road. thank you.
#a note#pet death cw /#pet illness cw /#yes her name is gamzee i adopted her when i was 16 in 2011 and she fucking owned that name. any questions
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RWBY V9 E08 Liveblog
I’m early again and already spoiled by the thumbnail, thanks a lot Crunchyroll (using the free trial until my usual sites fix themselves.)
- Another vague content warning, content warning are only useful if they warn about the actual content, RT. (It’s suicide/sucidial actions AGAIN just say suicide for fuck’s sake)
- Little, when have you ever actually guided the girls anywhere?
- I like that Ruby is breaking, but I wish the tone wasn’t quite so... grumbly? Like, the tone of voice sounds more petulant than upset, if that makes sense.
- Well... I do hope Little does actually knows the way back to the village, otherwise Ruby just left them there to die acres away from their home.
- ...What is this transition? It’s so abrupt, Ruby just arrives at the house. No shots of her reaction to her surroundings, no real look at what this acre looks like, no reaction to the house “appearing” (I say that as if it wasn’t just there, like the camera didn’t just cut to it without any establishing shot). This moment just feels so rushed, why?
- Is that the Roman Holiday cover art? And I’m assuming the little girl is Neo, so is her hair and eyes not natural, or did she unlock her semblance incredibly young?
- Hi Roman, by the way
- And all that hesitation Ruby was showing about using her weapon before? Gone. Could just be instinct overriding the trauma, it’s different being spooked into a fight vs rushing into one, but whatever.
- Can Neo just make her illusions speak now? Why?
- Even dead, Roman steals the show. Man, I’ve missed him.
- Very generic “hey, maybe Ruby’s cracking under stress” talk
- She... apparently didn’t walk that far.
- Is this entire house made by Neo? The chandelier shattering seems to suggest that, but the house stays later in the episode implying that it’s not.
- And like... has Neo been around enough to know about all of this? About Pyrrha, Ozpin, Clover, Ironwood? This is an incredibly cathartic scene (and once again I wish we could have gotten to all of this earlier), I’m very much enjoy Penny’s and Ironwood’s lines, but I’m confused on just how Neo is doing it.
- ....Dead Oscar illusion is kinda sick, nice job animators, but this poor boy can’t catch a break even when not actually here.
- Hey, they remembered Qrow existed!
- Good kitty with laser beams.
- ...Not good kitty. Darn it, Robbie Daymond. And “my maker”, is this how we’re going to tie this back to the main Remnant plot, because his maker can’t be Alyx or Lewis (I’m settling on this spelling because I finally got it through my dense skull that it’s a reference to Lewis Carroll, which makes me wonder if it was actually Lewis that made it out and Alyx that never came back, as the twist), so maybe it’s Ozma or the God of Light?
- Nice effort, Little - I do enjoy when they actually try to help in whatever ways they can, like with the doll at the auction.
-...So, will Little ascend, or because Neo killed them, are they dead dead?
-These reactions are so incredibly flat. If you’re going to do this, go all out with the team’s reactions, don’t just have them gasp and stare. They’d be doing so well with the facial expressions on Ruby, why cheap out here?
-Ew. Also, he’s alway gone in through the heart, why the mouth now?
-Oh yeah, wasn’t one of the theories of Neo’s fairy tale illusion the Cheshire Cat? Well, that’s confirmed now in horrific fashion.
Once again, I am asking why couldn’t we have cut out the fluff and gotten to this point sooner? It makes no sense that Neo is suddenly strong enough to do this, but at least it’s interesting and furthering Ruby’s character and arc along, and with only two episodes left and so much to deal with, this finale is going to feel rushed as all get out, I’m afraid.
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Haven't ditched, I've just been super busy and I arrived back off holiday the same day they announced an XL Bully ban here in the UK so I've been very emotional and stressed about that— I work as a student veterinary nurse so it's also just been a tiring week. Thursday I was part of three euthanasia's and my favourite patient of the day who wasn't even sick when he came in, later ended up going to out of hours and was euthanized. :(
I also have a lodger for the week, a poorly kitty that came in as a stray! Since we're not open on Sundays, and there'd be nobody to feed him, I have brought him home and I'm thinking of keeping him here until the rescue decides on a date to come get him! So I've been busy busy busy.
Hope y'all are well and I'll be back at it as soon as I can 💖
#˚・` . 𝐎𝐎𝐂 all you'll get from me is terrible life choices and salt.#attached are pics of toothless#the stray i named that im caring for
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Sick Cat Noir (p2)
Ladybug thought hard, she had to get Cat Noir out of here. But it might cost them their identity. 'I can...go...home by myself!' Tried Cat Noir. It didn't work, because Ladybug could tell from his hoarse voice that he was in pain. 'I have an idea, but it will cost our identity.' Said Ladybug, she had an plan. Cat Noir sat up. He felt his headache getting bigger. 'I... I don't really care about that.' Said Cat Noir. His throat hurt. 'Okay.' Said Ladybug. 'I need to take you to my home, or I'll take you to your home.' Cat Noir thought. Natalie had a week off. And his father didn't care that his son was sick. So he said: 'Your home... please.' Ladybug nodded and helped Cat Noir to stand. She put one arm around her shoulders. Cat Noir's legs wouldn't cooperate and he collapsed. Ladybug caught him just in time. 'I'll carry you.' Ladybug said. Cat Noir nodded.
They went together to Marinette's balcony. 'Are you... Princess?' Cat Noir's eyes went big. Ladybug nodded and she detransformd. They whent inside the room. Cat Noir sat on Marinette's bed. He also detransformd, Plagg yelled that he wanted cheese. Tikki was eating her cookie, and she didn't seem to care about the fact that they know each other's identity. Marinette was shocked as she saw Adrien laying in her bed. Plagg was done eating and then he looked at Adrien: 'I told you that you should stay home. Now you are all weak.' Adrien sighed. 'I know, Plagg.' He said. 'But I had no choice, m'lady was hurt.' Marinette saw that Adrien was in pain, so she decided to put aside the fact that Cat Noir is Adrien and that she has been rejecting him all along. Instead of stressing, she asked: 'Do you have a headache?' Adrien smiled nervously. 'Yeah... I have.' Said Adrien. Marinette left the room to get medicine, painkillers and a thermometer. When she came back, Adrien's eyes were closed. She laughed as she tried to wake him up: 'Wake up silly kitty!' Adrien didn't woke up. 'Uhm... you know I hate those jokes.' Marinette looked concerned as Adrien still had his eyes closed. She checked his pulse, and to her relief he was breathing and his heart was still beating.
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This fanfic is a sequel to this
I Love You Like a Workaholic
Lighting roared across the sky as Nadja fled from the rain. She had an umbrella but it blew away. Ran up to the Rinaldi home and knocked on the door. Moments later Charmaine answered the door and looked at her girlfriend. Makeup was running down her face and her hair was like a soaked mop. She shivered from the freezing rain. She looked pathetic.
"Oh darling what happened to you!? Wait right there okay hun." She shut the door and went in to grab a towel and change of clothes before she opened the garage door. Nadja walked in and she shut the garage and started to dry Nadja's hair out with a towel. "You're so cold." She hugged the vampire's face in her hands with the towel and kissed her cheeks. She set the towel around the shoulders and gave her the clothes. "Here you go Nadja, change out before you catch a vampire cold or something."
"I can't get sick."
"Well get warm, okay shug?"
She petted her shoulder and led her inside.
Nadja left the bathroom with her makeup mostly cleaned off wearing a zebra printed sweater and a long black skirt that she left here once Her hair was still pretty wet and she couldn't stop shivering. Charmaine was sitting on the couch with a comforter around her. "Come here sweetheart." Nadja sat into arms and rested her head on Charmaine's chest. She hugged Nadja with the blanket and warmed her shoulder.
Nadja started to ramble, "I think I'm going to lose my business. I tried to keep everything under control but it's harder than I thought it would be and customers are getting angry and-." She hiccuped as her tough exterior melted away. She was a blubbering mess. Charmaine couldn't make out what she was trying to say but she knew it had something to do with her nightclub. Nadja started to whimper. She petted Nadja's neck. "You poor thing. You seem so stressed all the time."
Nadja just cried against shoulder. She petted her cheek and kissed her head.
"Nadja, baby, look at me."
Nadja looked up and wiped her eyes.
"You have gotten through so much, you've gotten this far and you're going to get though this."
"It's just hopeless." She mumbled.
"I know or feels like that honey but good things are gonna happen to you okay?" She petted her arm. Nadja nodded.
"I love you."
Charmaine moved the hair out of her hair,
"Love you too kitty cat."
Nadja smiled and went in for a kiss and she kissed her back.
"Now let's get your hair fixed. Okay?'
"Okay." Nadja.
Nadja was sitting on the floor while Charmaine was combing her hair when Laszlo and Sean came down from the bedroom. Nadja stood up and hugged Laszlo, "Hello darling." He moved his arms away to make room for the ones squeezed around his waist.
"You okay Naj' ?" Sean asked.
"Tired." She mumbled, "I tried to fly in the rain. I lost my umbrella. My club is a fucking disaster. But at least my hair looks nice, so." She shrugged.
"It was thundering outside." Laszlo said incredulously.
"Yeah," she said against his chest, putting all her weight onto him.
"Are you drunk?" He held her back and petted her hair, which was soft now.
"Just a little." She was muffled against Laszlo. Charmaine stood behind her,
"Have you ever heard of burn out?"
"Oh yes, it happened to the Baron once. He's lucky he survived."
"What, no it's a mental thing honey."
"My love, are you calling me insane?" She looked over at Charmaine. Laszlo spoke up,
"What we're trying to say darling is that you have an issue of pouring all your energy into your career and only take breaks once you're completely exhausted."
Nadja just sighed and closed her eyes.
"Do you want to take a nap?"
She nodded.
"Okay."
Laszlo carried her up to their bedroom and cuddled up in bed. Nadja was in the middle on her side, leaning against Laszlo. Charmaine was spooning her from behind. Sean was on the other side of Laszlo cuddled up on his shoulder. Nadja drifted to sleep. The stress over the nightclub and Guillermo's stupid relationship drama melted away from her mind temporarily in that moment. All that that mattered was how cozy she was.
#what we do in the shadows#wwdits fanfic#wwdits fanfiction#nadja cravensworth#nadja of antipaxos#charmaine rinaldi#laszlo cravensworth#sean rinaldi#nadja x laszlo#nadja x charmaine#laszlo x sean
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8 months. 8 months since her last call, last text.
It's fine. She's just... working. She was doing this for them to have a better life right?
But what could they possibly need?
They lived in a nice home, and she always managed to send enough money for bills that Kindlin had money left over to save.
Kindlin had picked up the responsibility of paying bills once she could do simple math. Budgeting became part of her normal routine.
She never really minded, but it did make her stress sometimes when she saw all the things she had to do just to take care of things.
The worst of it was when the heater went out in the middle of winter, and she got sick all alone. She was so cold and weak she barely got up to do anything for a few days.
Fortunately a repair person finally came after she called, and she turned out to be fine.
Kindlin thought about all this as she walked down the street alone.
She had already applied to about 15 jobs
All of them rejected her for one reason or another, and each rejection pushed her closer to the decision she had made.
She had to get out of here, start her own life.
She felt so guilty about it, but that house... that empty house.. it was like going back to a prison each night.
Condemned to the silence, and empty chairs at dinner.
Kindlin looked at the ticket in her hand. Elementopolis.
That's where she'd make it.
She had just enough to make it there, and well... after that she'd figure it out. She always did.
What she didn't anticipate was the rain.
Or to forget her umbrella.
She hissed in pain as the drops became more frequent, bigger.
"C'mon, I'm halfway there!'
She hopped on her board and started to weave in and out of foot traffic.
The small fire girl began to cry as the cold water ate away at her flames, and she finally decided to take shelter.
It's not like she hadn't been caught in the rain before.
That's when she found a dry spot under a potted plant.
She curled up as small as she could make herself, before noticing a couple fingers had been snuffed out.
She dug some wood chips out of her bag and munched on them, fixing her hand.
She sighed, and hugged her knees to her chest.
"What am I gonna do?"
She watched as the rain started to get harder.
She hated storms.. but it would be fine as long as-
Thunder started to rumble lowly.
This was a mistake.
A huge one.
*She* was just one big walking bad choice.
But.. it felt like the only one.
It's not like she had nothing here. She had her friends.. theater, she had Cirrus, and that feral kitty.
But... something ached in her chest, telling her to go. She *needed* to go.
She didn't know she had started crying until steam came off of the concrete.
She sniffed and hid her face.
She wondered if anyone would look for her if the rain picked up and extinguished her right now.
Would... *She* even care?
All these thoughts swirled in her head, but she didn't know if it was that or the humidity making her feel sick.
That's when a voice stopped those thoughts.
"Are you ok dear?"
She looked up at a taller element, a plant lady.
She had flowers of the softest purple, and a warm smile.
"I-I'm so sorry! I promise I'll leave i-"
She forgot the rain for a split second and yelped when she got pelted with water after trying to move from the dry spot.
The lady placed the umbrella over Kindlin and offered a hand.
"Come inside, it's not safe out here for you. It's supposed to storm all night."
Of course it was..
Kindlin slowly took her hand, stepping close to stay under the umbrella.
She winced as she walked on the wet pavement, steam trailing from each step.
Once inside, she reached in her bag but.. no more chips. Crap.
The woman locked the door up and put away her umbrella.
"It's sure coming down out there. What were you doing in that storm? I've never seen fire out when it's supposed to rain like that."
Kindlin was a little embarrassed.
"W-well.. I was actually headed to the train station."
The woman nodded, and squeezed water out of her pink apron.
"Well it's definitely gonna have to wait. I don't mind the company at all though."
Kindlin looked at her with a little surprise.
"Would you like something to eat? I'm sure I have something you can digest."
She gestures to the walls filled with treats.
Kindlin didn't even realize until now, she was in a bakery.
"Oh. Uh... thank you, yes."
She looked around the shelves in awe.
So many options.. some of them she knew she couldn't eat, but good lord it looked so good she wanted to try.
"Go ahead, help yourself. "
Kindlin picked up some wood cookies, and after one taste her eyes sparkled.
"Whoa .. that's so good!!"
She scarfed down the rest of it.
She didn't know she was so hungry... but that came with the territory of skipping meals constantly.
"Why thank you! Made them myself."
The woman smiled brightly and beckoned her.
"It's chilly here, let's go upstairs and I'll get the fireplace going."
Kindlin liked the sound of that.
As they walked up the stairs, the sweet lady spoke.
"I'm Buttercup, but Everyone calls me Birch."
Kindlin smiled softly.
"Nice to meet you, Ms.Birch, I'm Kindlin."
As they got upstairs Kindlin saw that the whole place was filled with pinks and purples. It was like a dollhouse almost, flowers on the walls, and some cute wooden furniture.
Birch put a few logs into the fireplace, and started looking around.
"Now where are those confounded matches at?"
Kindlin walked over
"Oh here, let me."
She took a bit of her own fire, tossing into the pile of logs.
Birch smiled happily at that and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Why thank you! I guess it doesn't matter to you whether it's cold, but this sure warms me up."
Kindlin tilted her head.
"Actually fire people can get cold."
Birch raised her eyebrows.
"Really?? I wouldn't have guessed! I'm my age and I'm still learning so much."
She just kept that soft smile.
"Well in that case, let me get you a blanket. If you like you can stay until the storm passes."
She went to the closet and grabbed a blanket.
Kindlin just smiles softly.
"I should be thanking you. For a lot. I don't know what might've happened to me out there."
Birch wrapped her up and shook her head.
"Of course. I wouldn't leave you out there. That's monstrous."
Kindlin seemed a bit surprised at that and looked down
"Yeah… thank you."
She shuffled awkwardly before Birch patted the couch.
"Come sit down, you must be tired."
She wanted to ask this little girl so much why she had been crying, why she was alone, and why she was headed to the station, but didn't push.
Kindlin sat down, and they were both quiet for a moment before thunder clapped suddenly.
Kindlin covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut.
She *hated* storms.
Birch noticed this and frowned softly.
"I don't like thunder either.. when it would storm Mom would always bake with me. Rain rain go away raspberry pie.. no more clouds cookies.. "
Kindlin calmed a little as the sweet woman spoke. Her voice was.. soothing. Or maybe her presence.
"That's a funny name for a pie."
Birch chuckled and nodded
"Oh yes, she always had the best dessert names.. I miss her every day."
Kindlin's small smile fell. It didn't go unnoticed.
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Shy Cat Diary - 1 month
I'm sorry I've been trash at my shy cat documentation. He's now been with us for a month! He is still getting used to my spouse but he's chill around me and has fortunately gotten over his annoying Napoleon cat phase.
I did make one horribly wrong move though, and I will confess here so that others may learn from my oversights. About a week ago, I got some of those catnip laced paper bags. He's a catnip addict and I thought he'd have fun with it. Yeah, no. He didn't have fun. I left him for the night and by the next morning he had regressed back into a hidey cat who was afraid of everyone and everything and would hiss and spit at you if you dare peek at him hiding in his paper bag.
This here is exactly why I think advice to provide plenty of hiding spots for a shy cat is shit advice...
A space where they can go to feel safe: Absolutely fine. A space where they can *hide*: No.
So I promptly removed the paper bag.
He continued to be timid for the rest of the weekend. It is common for cats to start pulling their fur out or overgroom in response to recent stress or trauma, or because they're bored. Some people do this too -- in fact I'm one of them and have had this issue my whole life. Think hair pulling, skin picking, nail-biting, etc -- those mildly destructive behaviors we tend to shrug off as just being nervous habits. It's actually a fairly common though not well known type/relative of obsessive compulsive disorder (google "body-focused repetitive behavior" if you're curious). This dude is a fur puller. And he eats his fur. Which then makes him have bad hairballs, which makes him not feel well, which makes him not want to eat anything, which makes him feel even worse, which makes him feel vulnerable, which puts him back into scared cat mode.
The bag incident came at a particularly bad time because he hadn't been feeling well.
I have had several cats in the past who were fur pullers. Usually they get over it on their own once the stress passes, but sometimes it becomes a habit and they need to be brought to the vet for intervention. Unless there's some underlying medical condition to explain away the fur pulling, they will get prescribed antidepressants. At least in my experience, they don't need to take the medication for life -- just long enough to be broken of the habit, and then they're fine!
If not for fear of being pushed back about 30 steps if I dared bring this cat to the vet, I'd have brought him to the vet for his fur pulling weeks ago. Kitty antidepressants would do him a lot of good and probably would have made this whole transition to a new home a thousand times easier.
So anyway, on with the story -- Sick hairball-filled cat. I tried giving him some hairball medicine. There are several different kinds you can get over the counter at a pet store -- the ones that are a gel that come in a tube though are the kind that work. A lot of cats will just eat it without coaxing, but he won't. You can put it on their paw to entice them to lick it off and eat it, which is normally what I would have done, but he was acting so fearful of me there just wasn't any good way to go about it. I tried and failed miserably…So the next solution would be to mix it into their food. But...he wasn't eating...I opened so many different cans of food and he wouldn't touch anything.
Finally, as a last ditch effort, I resorted to something that I don't think I would necessarily recommend to others, but I'll admit here so you all know when things don't go as smoothly for you as it did for me (trust me, I've had my fair share of rocky moments), it's because I cheated. Illegal prescriptions. The one in question happens to be one that I know a lot about and happened to have on hand. Mirtazapine.
My now deceased cat, Moppet, in her late years was on mirtazapine as a maintanence drug as she had a chronic medical issue that caused her to have no appetite. My other cat, Tews, had also been prescribed it a few years ago when he was stressed out because we were moving. He made himself sick and stopped eating. And funny enough, I take mirtazapine as an antidepressant and was prescribed it because I don't respond to SSRIs and "lack of appetite" is a pretty pronounced symptom of depression and anxiety for me (if this describes you, Ask Your Doctor About Mirtazapine). Mirtazapine for humans is a decent enough antidepressant. The cat form of mirtazapine though is a WONDER DRUG. Makes them good and hungry, and calms them right down! (by calm, I mean turns them into an affectionate spaz) And the best part -- it now comes in a transdermal form, so you can just rub some on their ear lobe!
I am almost certain -- more than certain -- had I brought him to the vet, they would've stressed him out with a bunch of stupid bullshit first, insisted on an ultrasound to make sure he doesn't have a blockage or something else going on, and charge $1000 for it only to tell me exactly what I already know and had been trying to tell them -- "oh, guess he's just stressed and has some hairballs from obsessive grooming!" -- and then proceed to tell me about this great wonder drug for cats called mirtazapine. And then I'd bring him home and would need to find a pair of kevlar gloves if there's any chance in me rubbing anything on his ear in the next week.
Well anyway, fortunately I got to skip all that this time. I had some kitty mirtazapine leftover from Tews' incident. It was technically expired, which in the case of mirtazapine, the worst thing that might happen with an expired tube is it just won't do anything. I crossed my fingers and gave it a shot. And luckily, it worked miracles! The boy was back to himself in just a couple of hours, and was more than happy to eat food laced with hairball medicine. And that's all it took -- He recovered very fast and hasn't had any incidents since.
(Liability notice: If you take mirtazapine and think you can try this at home, it's a good sign you should take your cat to the vet. The dosage of kitty mirtazapine is completely different than the human variety of the same drug.)
He is still overgrooming sometimes, but he's definitely getting better and I have a feeling he will stop on his own eventually. I have continued lacing his food with hairball medicine every morning just for prevention, and will continue to do so until he kicks his fur eating habit. There's really only so much I can do about this behavior--He doesn't just do it when he's stressed, but he'll do it if he's bored or sometimes just for no apparent reason. When I catch him overgrooming, I try to distract him by playing with him and that usually does the trick for at least a little while. I have also discovered he enjoys music! Particularly harp music. And bird videos on youtube. I also try to brush him every day to reduce the amount of fur he can potentially eat but he’s one of those cats that insists on walking around, rubbing his face all over everything whenever he’s being groomed with a brush, so it’s tricky! If this overgrooming an ongoing habit of his that can't be fully broken, I will eventually take him to the vet for it and get him a proper prescription. But I just don't think inflicting that kind of trauma on him right now is in his best interest if there's any possibility of avoiding it.
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[ a father’s love ]
PARING: StepFather! Aizawa x StepDaughter! Reader
SYNOPSIS: Your stepfather took you in with open arms after the death of your mother. Depression gets the better of you and Shouta promises to take care of you. But just how far is he willing to go to see it through?
CW: yandere, pseudo-incest, mentions of stalkers, mentions of death, depression, mental health issues, pregnancy, noncon, somnophilia, bondage, daddy kink, praise kink, afab reader
AN: my first collab with the bnharem server!! the theme was roommates (i ran with the term loosely) read the other member’s takes here! mind the tags as usual and enjoy!! :)
The death of your mother shattered you. A freak accident with a villain attack had her crushed under rubble from a collapsed building. Your stepfather, Shouta, suggested that you move back home with him after her funeral. As tempting as the offer was, you were determined to make it through University and handle yourself like a big girl, an adult ready to take on the world. You had only moved out a few months before her death, independence calling to you after you received your college acceptance letter.
A few months and an eviction notice later, you crawled back to him, the only remnants of your family. Open arms enveloped you, bringing you solace and comfort in your dire time of need. You felt like a child, bundled up in his arms as you sobbed, screaming at the cruelty of the world. Depression hit you hard and deep, flunking you out of your classes and preventing the bills from being paid. You had no other alternative but to accept his offer.
“You time and space to grieve properly, kitty. The most logical thing to do is take a breather.”
Ah, kitty. He always knew that was your favorite nickname, calling you that ever since you were a little girl. He also always knew just what to say. Patting your thigh, he stood up and extended his hand to help you up as well.
“Let’s go step up your room. I'm sure you need a nap after that cry.”
He gave a wrinkly smile before disappearing down the hall.
Skeptical at first, you were unsure if it was the right move to return home. You needed time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed. A break from life would give you a chance to sort things out, right? And Shouta was more than prepared to use this opportunity to show you he would be all that you needed and more.
The man was nothing short of doting and generous. A shoulder to cry on, a good laugh, a friend, a father. He helped you piece your broken soul back together. Whenever he wasn’t patrolling, he was at home with you. When your depression seemed to drown you, Shouta was there to pull you out of the water. He made sure you ate, helped brush your hair when it was matted, and got you into clean clothes daily. It was the small things that he did for you that helped your demeanor change.
—
“Up and at ‘em, kitty. Breakfast is on the table.”
You grunted, burrowing deeper into your bedding. A chuckle reverberated in his throat as he rubbed your lower back soothingly.
“C’mon, I know you haven't been eating lately. Let's get some food in you. I made your favorite.”
—
But as time passed, his help could only do so much. Your mental health continued to dwindle, plummeting into the ground when her first anniversary passed.
—
Gentle strokes of a brush smoothed through your tangled hair. Shouta was kind enough to help you when your head got matted into a rat’s nest, being incredibly tender and gentle with you. Tears streamed down your face, broken hiccups and sobs bubbling from your chest. You were trying to hold it in, he could tell. A sweet kiss was placed on the back of your head as he enveloped you in a comforting embrace, letting his hands sip down to your hips to rub circles in.
“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”
He was the only one that was.
—
The domestic dynamic the two of you fell into hardly felt like one of parent and child, but more as two lovers sharing a home they built together. The pair of you even adopted a new cat together in hopes of cheering you up. You can't say that you disliked it. It felt...nice to have your presence matter when it was a struggle even to be alive. Shouta always checked in on you; whether he sent you an update from work or shared a cat video. He really was the best father anyone could hope for, even when your depression got the worst of you.
Your depression started to manifest itself in many forms. Lately, you’d been having vicious nightmares, only to wake up with an unknown stickiness on your thighs. Recalling the night terrors was something that evaded you, but you knew you were being violated. Perhaps your body wet itself from the fear of the dream? It was the only logical answer you and Shouta could come up with. Depression sure had funny ways of physically manifesting itself. You thought that would be the end of it, putting the situation behind you.
It was until it started happening nightly. The nightmares only seemed to prolong themselves, worsening to the point where you could vividly dream of being assaulted. Your underwear was now soiled too, and it definitely wasn’t your doing. Fearing you had a stalker, Shouta installed brand new locks on your windows and doors, hoping to soothe you. He was a Pro-Hero, so he certainly had the means and know-how to protect you. It put you at some ease, but it continued to the point where your stepfather decided sleeping in the same room would help you feel safer.
It didn't.
The nightmares themselves only seemed to get worse, but Shouta was right there to comfort you as soon as you woke up shouting in a panic. He would take you into his arms and hold you until you fell back asleep. You felt like a child. But he didn't judge you.
After a month of strange behavior, the stress caused you to gain some weight. Visiting a doctor was your best bet to get an answer. He took you to your appointment, letting you hold onto his arm for comfort as his hand rested comfortably on your thigh. The two of you were mistaken for a couple by a nurse. What a strange, intimate relationship the pair of your tangled yourselves in.
The doctor ran some tests and had your blood drawn. The results were to be emailed to you in a few days. Shouta calmed your nerves with a tender kiss to the forehead, reassuring you that everything would work itself out.
The notification for the email came in a few days later while Shouta was at work and you were lounging in the living room. Patience was never your strong suit, so you took his laptop from the coffee table, only to open up to a camera feed. Coming from your room.
The blood in your veins ran cold as you looked into the memory drive of the feed. Maybe he set up a camera to see what was happening during your nightmares? That had to be it; how could you assume the worst of your sweet dad? The only saved footage to be found was him fucking himself deep inside of your sleeping body.
“I see the results are in.”
You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He always had a habit of sneaking up on you.
“What-” You couldn’t find the words to describe your anger. “What the fuck is this!”
Disgust. Rage. Dispair.
Your only family left had turned against you.
“You were upset at the loss of your family, kitty. So I decided to give you a new one.”
He couldn't possibly mean…
“You’re pregnant.”
Bile rose to your throat as you gagged at the mere thought of his words. Pregnant? With your father’s child? His betrayal cut you more profoundly than your mother’s death ever could have. But it couldn't have made more sense—his touches, his comfort, sleeping in your room, the nightmares that plagued you.
“You’re sick!”
You shouted, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pummel insults and nasty spats at him. You lost your voice by the end of your rant, panting and heaving while sweat beaded your brow. He just stood there, taking everything in with a grain of salt.
“I understand, kitty. I really do. I should have been straightforward with my intentions.” He confessed.
The capture weapon around his neck snagged you the second you moved on the couch.
“Let daddy make it up to you. I'll make everything better for my pretty little kitty.”
It secured you to the sofa, keeping your legs spread and your hands behind your torso. On his knees in front of you, Shouta was ready to serve his apology with his tongue. Panties and sweatpants were ripped at the seams before being tossed aside.
He caressed your thigh with a delicate touch, pressing his lips to the other side. A kiss was pressed to your clit before long slow strokes of a hot tongue lavished it in attention. He kneaded your thighs gently all the while, humming as he began to alternate between licking and suckling on your sensitive nub.
Your head thrashed about in your binds as you shouted in protest.
“S-Stop it right now! Get off of me, dad!”
In a desperate plea, you hoped that hearing you call him dad would force him back into reality. Instead, he groaned and took a breath.
“Call me that again, kitty.”
A hot mouth sealed over your wet cunt as he dove his tongue between your folds while sucking with his lips. The pleasure was undeniable; his tongue was too experienced to ignore how his ministrations made you feel. Toes flexing and curling, you cried out of a mix of frustration, disgust, and humiliation as he continued to work at your dripping hole. This pig was getting off on the fact that he was fucking his daughter. It made your soul shatter all over again, the one he worked so hard to rebuild.
You continued to sob, moans now added to the mix, as he worked a finger inside of you. He made a curling motion after plunging in knuckle deep. A pleasured shout broke between your cries.
“I'll take it that’s your sweet spot, pretty girl? Good to know.”
He continued to abuse that spot, slowing down just a touch with his tongue to drag out the ride to the peak. Can't have you coming too fast, now can we? Your moans and whimpers spurred him on even more as he wiggled another finger inside you.
Removing his mouth, he focused on stretching and loosening up your tense body. You were lax when sleeping, so sliding in was a pinch with his size. But now he has to deal with you thrashing and struggling against his bonds. Disgust and pleasure churned together in your gut, feeling the incoming orgasm approaching hard and fast. Shouta felt you clench around his fingers and added a third, using his thumb to swipe your clit back and forth. With a final cry, you came on his fingers with a shout as your body convulsed in the capture weapon. You found what little peace you could in your short-lived post-nut clarity, taking a moment to breathe and center yourself.
Your father gave you no such chance to do so, immediately springing his cock free and rubbing the tip against your clit to gather your wetness. A chuckle sounded in his throat as he watched you twitch even more from the stimulation that was starting to border on being painful.
“Relax, kitty. Being tense won't do you any good.”
He slowly nudged his cock into your hole, groaning as he took his time bottoming out inside you. Praise spilled from his lips as he let you adjust, feeling your pussy clench tight around him. Good girl, good kitty. He shushed your sobs, smoothing the tears off of your face with the pads of his thumb. Murmurs of good girl and taking me so well slipped your senses. The pace he set was slow and deep, letting you feel every agonizing inch of his rather impressive dick.
Your flowing tears were kissed away as he proceeded to thrust faster and deeper. The sound of skin slapping against one another filled the room, even above your now weakened crying and whimpers. Sweat beaded on your brow plastered your hair to your forehead. His breath was warm against your cheek, his moans of pleasure so close to your ear forced you to stay in the moment.
Shouta swallowed your cute noises with a kiss, cupping and stroking your cheek with his right hand while his left pinned your hips down into the cushions. He did his best to stop your tears, pushing the hair off of your sweaty face. A few minutes passed filled with kisses, cries, and deep thrusts before he maneuvered you to be seated in his lap. Back pressed into the cushions, he lazily thrust up into you, hands grabbing your now bouncing ass. His thumb made its way back to your clit as he rubbed it in small circles, grinning at your cries of pleasure that you couldn't hold back. Dark brown eyes fluttered shut as he groaned and moaned proudly, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he felt himself getting closer and closer.
He usually lasted longer while you were sleeping; he does have quite a bit of stamina from his hero work. But something about seeing your flushed, torn face, hearing your whimpers and cries, he can't help but cum rather quickly for his own record. The pleasure was manifesting itself within you again, a second orgasm hitting you like a speeding truck as you gasped and choked for air at its intensity. Shouta was soon to follow, grunting and moaning loudly as he filled your cunt with his spend. He rode out both your orgasms, relishing in the silence between the two of you. It was better than hearing your broken, choked up wails.
It was wrong; he knew that. Breaking your trust, violating you, sabotaging your personal life, he couldn't help but be selfish with you. But he always knew what was best for you, always knew how to take care of you when you couldn't.
Foreheads pressed together, he caught your sagging body against him in a warm hug, stroking your hair when you started to sob uncontrollably.
“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”
#yandere shouta aizawa#yandere shouta aizawa x reader#yandere aizawa#yandere aizawa x reader#shouta aizawa x reader#shouta aizawa#aizawa x reader#aizawa#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere mha#yandere bnha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#mha#bnha#yandere x reader#yandere
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Hi Piggy and Kitty!
I hope I'm not bothering you by asking this, but I have a conundrum. I've read all your blog posts about asking for a raise.
I've only been at my job 6 months. Since I was hired, I've gotten more responsibility (outside of what was originally in my job description. I went from Admin assistant and medical outreach coordinator to now that and HR interview outreach and scheduling coordinator and a couple other things).
I've seen a few jobs pop up in my emails offering $3.75 or more per hour than what I'm currently making (which is a 20% increase). Where I live, gas is still basically $4/gallon, I commute almost 300 miles weekly, and the cost of food is astronomical (my husband and I spent over $700 last month, and neither of us really eat anymore lol, thanks medication! I watched a pack of chicken go from $13 to $22. And that's when it's "on sale")
I read somewhere that the average American will need $5,200 more dollars this year to live the exact same life as in 2021. I'm not sure what the "average American" is, but it probably isn't me. Combined, we make less than $60k/year. We never go on vacations or do "average American" things like have a car payment or kids
I'm not sure what to do. I really like my job and everyone I work with, but the raise and shorter commute would really help us save for the down payment on the house we are trying to buy (I'm watching our investments bottom out as we speak. It's stressful.) We are basically a single income family (my husband is on SSDI so his monthly income is fixed, so I'm basically the breadwinner), and we (he really) has a lot of debt to clear.
Would jumping ship after 6 months look bad? Or should I try to ask for a raise first? I don't know if they'd even come close to matching what other jobs are offering for my skill set (20% is a lot when we are having ridiculous staff turnover). And I know not asking is basically leaving money on the table, but is asking after 6 months too demanding? Should I even mention that I notice other jobs are offering $21/hr and up for my skill set? I can't work remote even one day a week (I mean, I can, but they wouldn't approve that. It's more for when I'm home sick but don't want to use sick time) or I'd ask for that to ease some of my gas expenses, but travel is basically a job requirement.
When I was hired, my job was committed to providing a "living wage", which in NY, is considered $18.75/hr for a single person (which is what I make). It sounds like a lot, but it evaporates quickly, even though we are nice enough to live with a family member who doesn't charge us much rent. It's by no means a "living wage" and I don't know where NY came up with that number, but that ain't it.
I just don't know what to do. I've watched my gas and grocery budget triple but am still making the same amount of money. I even cashed out my retirement early to help pay down some of our debt.
I really, really don't want to jump ship because I really do like it here and I'm always told that I'm really doing a fantastic job and am so helpful, but if praise could pay my home heating bill I'd be set for years.
Do you have any advice? I'm really waffling over what I should do here. There's a job offering $29.77/hr for basically what I do now that I'm definitely throwing a resume at (I'm like...juuuuuust enough qualified, but that would be like, the job of a lifetime), but in the meantime (or in case I don't get it) should I be asking for a raise? Or should I be looking elsewhere? How much is even an acceptable amount of raise to ask for in these, and I hate this phrase, "unprecedented time"? Do you think employers are trying to do anything possible to retain staff, or do you think they think they can just hire someone else for less?
I love this job, and I don't know what to do.
Sorry, this is just long winded as heck.
Whew, dear heart, you are Going Through It.
6 months is an a-okay time to ask about a raise. Full stop. Even without the increased responsibilities you mentioned. That said, I also wouldn't worry too much about moving on after 6 months (we are huge proponents of job hopping to leverage raises and promotions!).
If a 20% pay increase and the option to work from home sometimes would make you want to stay at your current job, bring them that info. Especially if you've got applications out or offers in. But if that same pay hike with a shorter commute sounds like a better deal to you, go for it!
How to Make Any Financial Decision, No Matter How Tough, with Maximum Swag
Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty by the Numbers
The Fascinating Results of Our Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty Poll
Aaaand for anyone in a similar situation who hasn't read the raise articles yet:
Salary Range: Are You Asking for Enough?
A Millennial’s Guide to Growing Your Salary
The First Time I Asked for a Raise
You Need to Ask for a Fucking Raise
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kenma finding out his wife is pregnant.
A/n: thank you to the anon who requested this! i had so much fun writing it! <3 this isn’t really what you requested? more so what the readers thinking oops, I hope you enjoy though!
Summary: kenma finding out his wife is pregnant.
Pairings: Kenma Kozume/Fem!Reader
Warnings: pregnancy, fluff/domestic, abortion mentioned
Word count: 915
- the idea of children was never really talked about, you had mentioned it once or twice over the span of your two year marriage
- and although kenma didn’t voice his agreement, he also didn’t mention if he wanted a child or two
- kenma is a busy man, he has many different jobs (ceo, youtuber, stock trader, pro gamer) so you always figured he was too busy to entertain the idea of a child
- he was also a quiet guy and seemed more than content with his immediate family just being you
- so it wasn’t much of a surprise that when you found out you were pregnant, you were beyond terrified
- you had known him ever since middle school, so you knew his personality really well
- he wouldn’t throw you out, he wouldn't entertain the idea of a divorce, he would never say anything ill about his unborn child or even mention an abortion (not if you didn’t say anything about it first), he wasn't that type of guy
- he’d most likely stay quiet for a while, trying to process everything, but his silence worried you
- his silence always worried you when it came to certain topics
- it was impossible to know his exact thoughts, you weren't superhuman
- you just hoped he would be happy about the news, or at least somewhere far away from being angry
- kenma would never suspect a thing, probably wouldn’t notice the morning sickness or extra weight gained, so he wouldn’t know you were pregnant
- he'd probably assume it was just that time of the month or you were just going through life changes (if he did notice)
- you would have to tell him flat out tbh
“so I have something very important to tell you, I’m hoping you'll be happy...”
you were eating dinner when you brought it up. he didn’t speak, but his eyes did meet yours, letting you know he was listening to hear what you had to say next.
“okay... so i’ve known for a while, maybe a week. but- i’m pregnant?”
he was confused, and you thought he would ask something along the lines of “weren’t we careful?” or “weren't you on the pill?” but instead-
“why did that come out as a question?” he asked, glancing nonchalantly down at his dinner, picking at the vegetables distastefully pushed to the side.
“what-”
“are you or not?” he asked, still poking at the veggies.
“i am.” you whispered. he nodded to himself, keeping quiet.
- you were shocked. sure he was always quiet and this wasn’t out of the ordinary, BUT, you thought he would have more to say, maybe his opinion even...
“you don't sound too phased?”
he finally met your eyes. “you don’t sound so confident. why’re you questioning everything?”
you admitted with wide eyes, “i’m nervous...”
“don’t be.” he mumbled. so, he wasn’t upset? he wasn’t bothered at all?
“so you’re not mad?”
“no...babies are cute, I guess.”
a loud squeal came from you, causing kenma to jump in his seat across from you. you were sure the whole neighborhood could hear you, but you didn't care, you were filled with joy.
“aww kenmaaa, I didn’t know you were a secret baby lover!”
“what-”
“don’t worry, I wont tell anyone! it’ll be our secret.”
- the entire dinner consisted of you nitpicking about kenma's eating habits (you told him to think of it as setting a very very early good example for your child and being healthy at the same time)
- after dinner kenma may have cracked the tiniest smile uwu
- you think it may have slipped out on accident, but when his eyes met yours and the tiny smile didn't disolve, you knew it was meant for you to see
- he was happy about the pregnancy
- you went to bed stress free that night about what he thought, because he seemed fine about the whole idea of a child
- he even asked how far along you were when you thought he was asleep
- you told him you weren’t sure, your guess two months or so
- in the months leading up to the birth, he was surprisingly more vocal than he’d been in your entire time of knowing him, which was a huge plus and warmed your heart greatly
- you were five months along when kenma really seemed like he was finally getting excited about the baby
“how about this for a coming home outfit?” you turned to face your husband, to see him holding up a tiny orange kitty onesie and a soft white knitted blanket in his other hand
- lets just say you began crying in the middle of the store, sobbing loudly all the while kenma uncomfortably stared at you with pink tinted cheeks
“the kenma kozume interested in other things that aren’t video games or apple pie? never thought i’d see the day!" his eyebrow lifted at your still sobbing form.
“well our baby needs clothes right?” was all he said carefully placing the items in the basket he was holding.
“yes, he does.”
- lets just say kenma was shook to death
- you had accidentally let it slip you were having boy... you hadn’t told him yet, well until now, oops-
his eyes widened. “it’s a boy?”
“...yeah. I know you said you didn't mind which gender we got, but I hope you’re happy it’s a boy. you may have more things to bond over in the future!”
- after a long extended silence...
“do you think he’ll like video games?”
“kozume is that ALL you’re worried about?!”
he just flashed you a cheeky smile.
10.22.20, rayofsunas
#haikyuu!!#hq#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#kenma kozume#kenma kozume x reader#kenma x reader#pregnant reader#kenma x pregnant reader
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Brush His Picture
All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.
Author: Randombtsprincessa
Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader
Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.
Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me
Rating: General!
Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...
Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.
A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub for hosting the wonderful exchange!
Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.
Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.
You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.
Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.
You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.
***
Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.
“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.
“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”
She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”
You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.
Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.
As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.
The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.
This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.
“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.
“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”
We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.
***
As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.
After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.
Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…
…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…
The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.
“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”
We stared back dumbly.
“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.
“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”
“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”
There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.
To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.
You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”
She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.
“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.
“Until next time, people,”
When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.
Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.
If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…
“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”
“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.
“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.
***
Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.
HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.
You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.
You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?
According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.
Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.
Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.
You might have even passed a little park arena.
When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.
You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.
Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.
The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.
Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.
“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”
It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.
“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”
Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.
“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”
There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.
“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”
You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.
“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.
“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.
It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”
You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.
You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”
You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”
You were met with nods.
“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.
You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.
You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.
“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.
“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.
“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.
“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”
“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”
You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.
***
Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.
Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”
“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”
“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”
Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.
“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.
Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”
“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.
Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.
Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”
Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.
“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.
“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”
You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.
Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.
“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”
“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”
“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”
Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.
“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”
You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.
“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.
“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.
“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”
You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”
That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”
At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.
***
It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.
The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.
You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.
The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.
Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.
“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.
“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.
“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.
“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”
“Yeah, Hyung just said.”
Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.
“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”
The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”
This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.
“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.
Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.
Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.
You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.
Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.
They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.
Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.
You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.
But…he was way beyond human leagues.
Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.
Maybe…maybe not…
And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.
Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.
***
If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.
The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.
Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.
“So, what do you think?” He asked.
“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.
“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”
You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…
“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”
The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.
You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…
You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.
The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.
If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.
Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.
You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.
You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.
Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.
Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.
And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.
Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.
After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.
You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…
As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.
The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.
He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.
Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.
“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.
“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.
“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”
“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”
“Thank you.”
“Shall we?”
Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.
The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.
You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.
Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.
He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.
You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.
“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.
“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.
“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”
You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.
“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.
“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.
“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.
“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”
You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.
“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”
“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.
Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.
As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.
Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.
You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.
You were worlds apart.
Maybe this could be a story someday.
But it would never be reality.
***
Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.
Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.
That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.
It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.
She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.
“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.
“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.
“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.
“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”
You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.
“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”
“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.
She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.
The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.
You needed a change of view.
***
Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.
You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?
No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.
When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.
He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.
They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.
“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.
“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.
“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”
You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”
“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”
Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.
“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.
Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.
“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”
You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.
“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.
“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.
What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?
They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.
You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.
***
You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.
“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.
Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.
“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.
“What happened?” she asked flatly.
I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.
“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”
Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.
“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”
“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.
“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”
You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.
She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.
“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.
Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”
“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”
Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.
“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”
You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.
“Can you just do me one last favor?”
“What?”
“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”
***
The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.
Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.
It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.
He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.
Are you ok? What’s going on?
Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.
Only…he decided to call you…
As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.
You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.
Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.
Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.
Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.
But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.
The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.
In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.
You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.
You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.
And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.
To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.
In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.
“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.
“He’s asking about you.”
“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”
“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.
“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.
“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”
You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.
You picked up your manuscript again.
***
The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.
It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.
Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.
So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.
When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Y/N,”
The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.
Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.
It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.
You guessed his IQ really did pay off.
When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.
And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.
“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.
“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.
“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.
“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”
“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”
“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”
They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”
“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”
“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”
“Is that a no?”
You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”
“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”
He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.
The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.
***
You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.
Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.
Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.
The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.
He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.
What were you doing?
Why were you here?
You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?
There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.
When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.
Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.
Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...
“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.
It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.
You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.
It was...suspiciously quiet.
“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?”
The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”
What?
They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games?
“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.
Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.
“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”
What the hell was going on here exactly?
“We’re going to talk.”
You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”
You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.
“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.
You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms.
“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”
If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.
And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.
“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”
Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?”
You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”
Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.
He laughed.
His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.
In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.
You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.
You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.
“Let me go.” You said firmly.
“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”
You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.
But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.
You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.
And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...
Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.
“That’s...that’s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.
“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.
“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.
“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.
“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.
“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”
You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?
“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”
You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.
“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”
What were you going to do, say no?
Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”
Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.
Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.
“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.
“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.
“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.
“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.
You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.
Then chaos erupted.
The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.
“Namjoonie finally got some!”
“OH SHUT UP!”
#thebtswritersclub#btswritingcafe#btsghostie#btshoneyhive#namjoon fanfic#bts fanfic#namjoon fluff#namjoon angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts#namjoon x reader#namjoon
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Amoreena | chapter twelve
Chapter Twelve
main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.
Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.
Chapter Warnings: spencers mom has a bad day at the doctor's and so spencer thinks he's going to have a bad day too but he ends up having the best day of his entire life.
talk of pregnancy, celebratory sex, oral (female receiving), grinding, no penetration, serious deep talks after sex about their most depressive episodes, sharing trauma and making sure they know the other is loved regardless of what goes on in their mind. it's a rough one so read with caution
word count: 4.5K
from the beginning <3
He was up before Amoreena, awaking for the second time that morning to the sound of his alarm, kissing Y/N on the forehead before leaving their bed, she simply laid there and watched him get ready.
Most of his clothes were here now, every time he was near his apartment he brought more and more things home with him. Because that wasn’t his home, it hadn’t been for a long time, even when he lived there it was just a trove of books and a bed he slept on occasionally.
They were probably going to move all his stuff over in the summer, after the second wedding… after the girls meet Taylor, and hopefully when Y/N’s actually pregnant and not too sick or tired to help.
“Come here,” she whispers before he can slip out of the room, “kiss your wife.”
He can’t help but smile as he bounds towards the bed, jumping in and wrapping her up in his arms. He smothers her face in kisses, making her laugh, still half asleep as she let him manhandle her.
“I love you,” he reminded her.
“We love you too,” she replied with a smile, answering for Amoreena even though she was still asleep down the hall, “don’t wake her up yet, she needs all her rest for today.”
“I’ll be quiet,” he responds with a smile, kissing her again before he finally gets out of the bed, if not he would have stayed there forever.
He tiptoes down the hall and into Amoreena’s room, kissing her sweet little forehead lightly before exiting just as quietly. It was like he was never there.
He snuck down the stairs quietly, locked the door behind himself on the way out, and took off down the driveway in his old blue Volvo amazon, paying extra attention to the path for any kitties or Rufus out on their morning strolls.
It didn’t take long for a happy day to go sour when he was in a doctor's office with his mom. Those were the worst places he could go with her, especially on a bad day. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she really didn’t like hospitals or government buildings, even lawyers' offices stressed her out.
Today she was convinced he wasn’t really her son, Spencer, and that he was actually leading her to be a government experiment. It was hard to see her struggle, especially on a day they needed to ask her serious questions while she sat still. It was the fact she had to stay awake for 24 hours that triggered the episode, the EEG requiring her mind to be deprived of sleep. It was rough, she barely knew him. They wouldn’t have the test results for a while but he already knew it wasn’t good.
He dropped her back off at the home as quickly as he could, not able to deal with the verbal abuse any longer, he didn’t even say goodbye. The woman he dropped off was his mother on the outside but not on the inside today. It was really hard to look at her and know her, but not see that same look in her eyes.
By the time he’s returning to the farm, it’s 11:45 and he’s exhausted.
He finds Y/N in the bedroom, lying in bed in just a t-shirt and her underwear, completely sound asleep with the blankets thrown off the bed. She looks so beautiful, he slips out of his clothes to match her, sliding into bed beside her and just looking at her perfect face.
He presses a kiss to her shoulder that startles her awake, “oh god, Spencer!” she places her hand on her heart as she calms down.
“Sorry,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in closer.
“How’s your mom?” Her tired words meet his ears and his smile dies.
“Not great, really don’t want to talk about it yet,” he was honest with her, snuggling in closer as she hummed in agreement to drop it. “How was Amoreena’s morning?”
“I told Amoreena I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t need to you to freak out in front of all the kids or cry or pass out in front of all them, but there’s a positive pregnancy test on her all about me project,” she explains it like she’s about to say it’s just Amoreena’s from 8 years ago…
He pulls back slowly, looking into her eyes as she smiles wider and wider, “you’re pregnant?”
She nods her head as her smile gets bigger and toothier, she’s wrapping her arms around him so tight it’s like he can’t breathe for multiple reasons.
“We did it, Spencer, I made you a daddy again,” the words carry from her mouth in a beautiful tune.
He’s holding her back so gently, afraid to squeeze too hard and hurt her and the tiny little life that’s starting inside her. He’s silent, overjoyed but absolutely dumbstruck at the fact it’s real. A month ago he thought about walking into traffic after work and just seeing what happened, now he was a father of 2 with a wife and a happy farm and a life that was good.
A life he deserved.
All thanks to a beautiful little girl with an interest in dinosaurs and making new friends. Amoreena was an angel sent from heaven, improving both of their lives greatly, and now they were making another.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, oh my god yes, I’m just,” he didn’t know what words to say and it was evident. “Amoreena knows?”
She nodded softly, “she now knows girl parts make eggs, boy parts make sperm, and that adults have sex but you can only make a baby at 25, she really didn’t seem to be all that interested in the science, but she’s excited to be a big sister.”
“Wow,” it all caught up to him then, he placed his hand on her stomach softly, “hi little one.”
Y/N laid back against the bed, pulling her shirt up so he could see the barely-there bump, “It’s mostly leftover’s from Amoreena, but yeah, there’s another one in there.”
He couldn’t help himself from running his hands over the curve of her stomach, thinking about Amoreena being in there once upon a time and how tiny she must have been. It was even weirder to think that a part of her was once even in him.
“It’s strange to think that I jerked off into a cup and you made the most perfect kid on earth with it… it just feels like it doesn’t add up. She’s so perfect I can’t believe she was once a part of us both,” he can’t help but let his inner monologue seep out, she didn’t mind it, she loved hearing how his mind worked.
“I can’t wait to see you holding this little one,” her hands joined his on her stomach, the shape of her forefingers and thumbs making a heart over her bare belly.
Spencer leaned in and kissed right in the middle, beside her belly button, in love with whoever was in there already.
“Amoreena had a dream last night too,” Y/N cuts into his little moment, “guess how many sisters she said she had.”
“8?” Spencer can’t help but smile.
She nods, “I don’t know what it is about this house but the good dreams always come true, who knows how many babies are in there right now.”
“I hope just one for now,” he says in all honesty, “I really want time with just one little one, you and Amoreena. A family of four for a bit and then the twins, that’s how it was in the dream.”
“Did they have names?”
“You called them Elly, Junie, tho and Cordelia, and you said there were 3 sets of twins, two after Cordelia,” he remembers it all as if he was really there, whispering all the words against her stomach, his cheek resting on the band of her underwear as he laid between her legs with his arms around her.
“Amoreena, Elizabeth, Juniper, Theodora, and Cordelia were all the options I was choosing from last time,” she says with the widest smile, “how the heck did your mind know that?”
“It felt very real, which is why I was so worried about where I was, I don’t know how I could have missed anything but now I know that part was just my anxiety,” Spencer rationalized it. “Amoreena probably had the better version of that future in her dream last night.”
“I was having a great dream before you came back,” she teases him, running her fingers through his hair as he continues to kiss her stomach.
He loops his fingers around the band of her underwear, sliding it down just low enough to really kiss where that baby of his is hiding out. She lifts her hips into the contact, letting him slip them down her legs and completely off, she spreads her legs even more.
He takes his time pressing a kiss to every single inch of her, her skin is soft, her leg hair is prickly on his hands and his cheeks but it’s nice, he rubs his face against her like a cat marking his territory as she continued to scratch his scalp.
He spread her open with two fingers, he presses a soft kiss to her clitoris and all the way down to her opening before licking a wet stripe up the sensitive skin. The moan she releases is the loudest one he’s heard on her yet, it was really the first time he’s been allowed to really enjoy her.
“It’s important for your partner to help with the stretching in the third trimester,” she teases him, “but they don’t mention anything about starting too early being a bad thing.”
“I don’t want to disrupt anything in there,” he worries aloud, letting her decide if it’s okay.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she laughed, “I don’t think you’d reach them, but if you’re really worried there are other ways to help.”
“Such as,” he asks, lowering his face back down to her wet heat, continuing to explore her with his tongue as he expects her to talk.
“You, um you can, shit, wow,” she props herself up on her elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing as she stalls for a few minutes, “just rub yourself over me, Spencer please, I want more of you.”
She grips him by his cheeks and pulls him up into a kiss, both of them rushing to push his boxers down and off his legs, she spreads her own once more so he can press against her.
His hard cock resting flat against her, rubbing back and forth as he spreads her wetness around with him. The head gliding over her clit just the right way as she held him close to her body, kissing down his neck and sucking marks all over his chest.
She was desperate for him and who was he to deprive her, so he rocked into her more, grinding down harder against her body and making her shaking lightly. It felt better, more intimate, more euphoric than any other sex he’s had, just being close to her had him on the edge faster than he expected to get there.
She’s chanting his name then, head tossed back against the pillow as she digs her fingers into his asscheeks, holding him so close to him he can feel her orgasm rush through her. She stills, bucking up into him one last time as he finishes all across her stomach.
His hands are curled around her cheeks then, holding her perfect face in his hands as he hovers over her, using everything in his power to not crush her or the baby. He’s trying so hard to steady his breathing, so is she, they just smile at each other, laughing lightly at how in love they are.
“I love you,” he says on impulse, “you’re so good to me.”
“Look at all the good you’ve given me,” she whispers, “it would be wrong for me not to love you for everything you’ve done for me, whether you were aware of it or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not going to tell you about my depression while your cum dries between us like glue,” she laughed at how crude it sounded.
He laughs lightly too, rolling off her to see just how much of a mess they made. “Tell me in the shower?”
“Seems appropriate,” she agreed, taking his hand and following him into the bathroom.
He loved the old feel of her bathroom, the green linoleum and floral wallpaper, the pink towels and bright orange shower curtain, it was happy and bright and the perfect place to laugh for half an hour as they washed each other.
She has him pressed against the shower wall then, water trickling over them gently as she stares into his eyes, “I don’t know how to say it without it coming out really scary,” she finally resumes the conversation they were about to have in the bedroom.
“I’ve probably been in the same mental state, I’m not going to judge your method of choice,” he explains it in a way that she’ll know he really, really gets it.
“I had a few suicidal thoughts when my grandma went to chemo before I chose your sample and before I did all the hormones, I was thinking why should I stay and bring another life into my misery when I could just die first and not have to see her go through that anymore,” she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she stops, letting him digest all the words.
“Did you try anything?” He’s not sure why he’s asking.
She shakes her head, the best no he’s ever seen in his life. “My grandma noticed on my birthday when I wasn't coming down for breakfast like normal, I was really depressed and so we went out and talked and had lunch together for the first time in forever cause she wasn't feeling sick, I’ll never forget it. It was the best and worst birthday of my life.”
“I’m the worst husband ever,” he says, taking her by surprise, “I don’t even know your birthday.”
It makes her laugh, taking her out of the sadness as she realizes he really doesn’t judge her, he gets it completely. “January 16th, 1986, three minutes after Evan,” she manages to say it with a smile.
“That’s the date Maeve died,” both of them stare at each other in shock, wondering just how many other coincidences they had out there to figure out.
“How many days after did you donate?”
“On the 19th,” he confirmed without taking a breath, “holy shit.”
“We both were suicidal on the same day,” she covers her mouth with a wet slap, laughing at the worst thing she’s ever said, it’s the shock and the emotions of everything catching up to her right then and there.
“Oh my god,” he laughs in response, both of them laughing as they hugged in the corner of her green shower. “we are fucked up.”
“Soulmate things,” she shrugged, holding him even tighter.
He wished she could see his face then, the looking that overcame him as he heard the word soulmates. She just called him her soulmate. He licks his lips, taking it all in and almost hyperventilating, she can feel the way his breathing changes as she looks up with concern.
“What?”
He shakes the thoughts out, swallowing sharply as he makes eye contact with her, “nothing.”
“No, I know that look Spencer, what did your brain say to you this time? I will go in there and kick its ass,” she pokes his forehead then, threatening his anxiety to fuck off.
“I never thought I’d get to hear someone say that to me, it’s stupid,” he felt too vulnerable suddenly, sky and closed off.
“Who hurt you?” She asks in complete curiosity, wanting to know why he can’t imagine someone loving him.
“My parents,” it slips out before he can catch it, “I love my mom. I always have to preface that, she did what she could but it was nowhere near enough. I don’t hold anything against her, I just hate that that’s how it was, that she had bad days at all because they always shine brighter in my memory than the good days.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she worries this time, seeing the hurt on his face and feeling like she fucked up, he can read her micro-expressions easier than anyone else.
“I would have told you soon enough, my dad left because of my mom's illness and he made sure I knew he didn’t want me. I don’t care that he kept up with me on the internet, the fact he didn’t even care to let me know he lived 10 miles from me my whole life makes me feel sick. I was 14 point 6 miles away from Amoreena this whole time and I would give all my fucking organs to go back in time and be with her from day 1, I don’t get how he could just not love me?” The rant comes out of his mouth for the first time ever, the same thoughts that have been there building for 40 years bursting at the seam.
She reaches behind them to turn off the water then, stepping away from him while he cools down a bit, “Yeah, no I get it, I hate him too now. That's so fucked up, honey, I'm so sorry.”
It makes him huff out a laugh, “I’m sorry, you’re not my therapist you don’t have to deal with all that.”
“I’m your wife, I deal with that regardless. In sickness and in health remember?” She reminds him, “depression is just as real of an illness as cancer. I don’t want you to keep these thoughts from me. I want to know about every paper cut, every splinter, every bad thought that crosses that beautiful mind because I love you.”
“As long as you always remember that too,” he makes sure that she knows he feels the same. “Don’t keep anything from me thinking it’ll ruin the happy atmosphere of this kingdom, Amoreena would tell you that a castle is only as strong as its weakest brick. If you crack we all tumble.”
“My foundations are strong, if not Derek’s a renovator right?” She raised her eyebrows, making another joke. They were always going to be okay.
“Speaking of, how are we going to house all 12 of these children you plan on having?”
"We, smartie pants, we are having," she tosses the shower curtain out of the way then, stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel, “I was thinking we add a few more rooms, nanny and pop were always adding on to this place, it would be nice to fix it up a bit.”
“I can see if Derek wants to help, or we can find a contractor?”
“Well, Alli still has another 8 weeks till her baby comes, so you might as well do something with Derek here in that time,” she agrees with a smile, “my nanny left everything to me, so I have a decent amount saved still for whatever you guys think the house can handle, I just want it done safely, and it has to match.”
She was bossy, he loved every second of it. “Yes ma’am,” he smiles as he steps out, drying off beside her.
Y/N couldn’t stop smiling at him as she watched him fluff his curly wet hair in the mirror, “how would you like to go out and get our first kid a big sister present before the graduation?”
“We never had a chance to read on Saturday, would you want to get her a big sister book and read at the tree?” Spencer suggests, making eye contact with her reflection in the mirror, even backwards she’s beautiful.
She nods with a smile, “sounds great, daddy.”
He wraps his arms around her before she can leave the room, kissing her neck and shoulder as she squirms, trying to get away from him but failing on purpose. “Spencer, seriously we have to go.”
“Then don’t call me daddy,” he whispers in her ear, and he can physically feel the way it excites her.
“We will revisit this later,” she says with a stern look as she pulls away finally, dropping the towel on purpose as she walks towards her new closet.
She was going to be the death of him, and hopefully, that wasn’t for a long time. Hopefully, he thought right then and there, that the moment he finally does die, he dies is beside her. Happily in his sleep, as they’re in their 90’s, and in a perfect world she’d slip away with him.
“Can I ask a dumb question?” He rushes the words out, taking her up on that offer of hearing all the bad thoughts.
“Always,” she smiles.
“When we get to heaven, stay with me? Pick me instead of Stephen for the forever part?” He’s not sure why he’s crying, or why he’s thinking about it. But it’s where his mind went and she said she’d always follow.
She tilts her head to the side, dropping her shoulders as she sighs, “we can set Stephen and Maeve up with each other.”
It makes him smile, she always knew what to say. “Who knows, they could be the reason all this happened.”
She nods then, “I like the thought of that, they deserve to be happy together, I’m sure they would like each other.”
He really believed they were soulmates then, that something bigger set up all these dominoes and he was so excited to watch them fall. To see where they landed, the beautiful pattern that they would reveal. The wonderful world he was creating with her was always going to be amazing because something greater than them said so.
—
She looked more beautiful than he’s ever seen her as they rolled up to the school. She was physically glowing, her hair was perfect, her dress laid over her stomach in the right way that he could see proof she was with child, even if she called it leftovers from the last one. It was his favourite part of her, it was where she made the best person they knew.
They walked around to the back gate, hand in hand, smiling wide as they walked into the little classroom. There were balloons and streamers everywhere, they had little cupcakes all set up and all of them were in matching blue caps and gowns.
Amoreena waved at them when she saw them, not allowed to leave her seat from where they were practicing their ceremony. It was unbelievably adorable, Spencer couldn’t help but be that Dad who took a million photos on his cellphone. He was never going to miss another moment.
JJ wrapped her arm around him sneakily, startling him as she hugged him, “hello Spencer Reid, father and husband,” she teased him. “Still weird thinking of you as a dad.”
He wanted to tell her, but she’d know soon anyway once she saw the all about me project, “shit,” Y/N says from behind him as she realizes too. “Tell her.”
“We’re having another one,” Spencer whispers in JJ’s ear before she can even react.
She smacks his side as she pulls back, staring at him with her mouth wide open. The same face Henry made when he saw Y/N for the first time, completely shocked and nervous, “oh my god?”
He nodded, “we’re not telling anyone, I was supposed to find out on her all about me project but she didn’t want me to pass out in front of all the kids.”
It made JJ laugh, shrugging as she agreed with the idea, she pulled away from him and wrapped Y/N up in her arms, hugging her ever so softly. Y/N closed her eyes and pressed their cheeks together as she accepted the thank you, knowing JJ was just happy to see Spencer succeed.
She placed a hand on Y/N’s tummy before pulling away fully, “I always hoped I’d see the day where Spencer made a little genius, I still can’t believe Amoreena is his sometimes, that hasn’t really hit me yet, but this… this is real. I’m so happy for you.”
Y/N cried a little, wiping her eyes as she laughed it off, “okay, sorry this is a big day for me, my first baby is graduating, this baby is trying to grow a heartbeat, it’s all a lot.”
“I get it, believe me,” JJ agreed, placing her hand on Y/N’s lover back and holding her close to her side. Bonding in that moment, making Spencer’s heart swell.
“Where’s the cowboy?” She changed the subject, looking for Will.
“Oh there’s a case in Kentucky, I missed Henry’s graduation, so I’m here for Michaels while he’s on the case, it’s only fair,” she explained with a smile, content with how their life and relationship worked.
“Do you want to sit with us?” Y/N offered, pointing at the folding chairs, taking a seat with JJ in the front, sitting between her and Spencer so she could talk to both of them before the ceremony.
It was lovely having them become friends, his first love and the last one he'd ever have.
They passed out tissues (thank god) before the ceremony, Y/N and Spencer both using at least 5 as they watched Amoreena get her tiny scroll of paper, move the string on her hat to the other side and then wave at them. Spencer took at least 100 photos of her, unable to stop how proud he felt that he made her.
What Amoreena failed to mention was that she was chosen to be the class valedictorian, surprising them with a tiny speech at an even tinier podium. It was so cute, both Spencer and JJ recorded it to remember for later.
“My class chose me to talk to everyone because I’m the oldest, lots of my classmates like to think of me as an older sister,” she smiled right at her parents, hinting at the fact she knew when she thought Spencer didn’t yet.
So he played along, looking surprised at the word choice.
“I’ve had the best two years with all my friends in this classroom, Miss Kennedy was the nicest women they could pick to make sure we learned everything we need to before grade school starts,” her words were definitely chosen by her, possibly reworded by her teacher but definitely from her heart.
“My mom taught me the alphabet, she taught me how to spell and count, she taught me lots of things that miss Kennedy taught in here, at first it was hard being the kid who knew more, but then it was fun getting to help everyone else learn,” she continued with the most enthusiastic voice, going off-script as she thought of more. “My dad, though, he’s taught me how special our family is. How special it is to get to meet new people and learn about the world with them, I’m so glad my parents made me so I could learn with all of you these past 2 years.”
All the parents were crying, she was able to touch the hearts of everyone around her. At the age of 7, she was more well-spoken, more understanding and grateful than any of the adults in that room.
“I’ll see you all on the big kid yard next year!” She cheered, jumping up and down and clapping, all her friends rushed to the stage for a big group hug.
His little girl was so unbelievably loved, the way she deserved.
tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid request#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#amoreena
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I'm sick for the first time since the start of the pandemic and it's so weird. I feel a little bit like a failure, which speaks to how successfully people have been made to think personal responsibility can somehow prevent life from getting in our way. I'm boosted + a flu shot, wear a mask around customers at work (and all of my coworkers are vaccinated) so a little cold really isn't anything to stress about-- but the past two years make you feel like you've become a fortress and, no matter how hard you try, something can always get through.
In a way it's further cemented my fragrance obsession; on the off-chance that I did have covid, I've been trying different scents, or even just reminiscing about ones I've tried over the past year. I'm so enamored with gourmands and ambers, yet it's been chypres and fougeres that come to mind. Green scents, yellow florals. Chamomile and sandalwood.
Every once in a while I open a doc with scent ideas based on locations and times in my life. My childhood home, its backyard torn out by construction to dig a ditch for a creek, the trees and grass leveled into dry, red-brown clay; off to the right--spared by the construction--what seemed like an endless forest of bamboo. The way beams of sunshine came down through. What did that smell like? I have ideas.
I've looked up fragrance labs and vendors, found specific scents that can reproduce notes resembling dirt or rust or blood.
Would it be possible to recreate the potpourri I made in jail? I'd fill a sock with dried orange peels and cherry scented vomit absorber we called kitty litter, hang the sock on the air duct pushing stale air into the cell. While I know it couldn't have been a good scent, it still feels magical to think of. Orange, a powdered cherry. A bit of cocoa. A mix of moist and dry tobacco. Civet for a feral edge, ambergris for a touch of salty sweat; build around a foundation of the plain baked cake we'd often eat for dessert, only mildly sweet with a touch of vanilla. White musk, similar to biblichor, to hold it all together. The smell of the things that grounded you in that hellish place, surrounded by notes of the distractions you needed to get by. Both a resignation and a celebration.
Alright, bed time.
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A Blanc Slate, Chapter 2
<Previous Next >
4. Cafe
By the time Chat had finished his bath, Marinette had finished warming up a bowl of soup for him.
“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to her chaise lounge.
He did as asked, less taking a seat and more collapsing onto the chaise. He’d given up on fighting her, but she couldn’t tell if he was sick or just tired of fighting. Maybe both.
She handed him the soup bowl, and he took it with a quiet thank you. But before he took a bite, she placed her hands on his forehead and cheeks, trying to gage his temperature compared to hers.
He did pull away at first, hurting her heart once again, but this time, he eventually relented to her touch.
“You feel too warm,” she muttered. “Stay right there; let me go see if I have anything for that.”
When she returned with water and some medicine, he was staring at his bowl of soup that still looked quite full.
She frowned as she set the glass and pill on her desk. “Something wrong? Does it not taste good?”
“No, it tastes like the soup from one of my favorite cafes. I’m just…”
“Can’t stomach it?”
His eyes closed, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
Frowning, she sat herself down next to him on the edge of the chaise. “Is it because you’re sick? Or stressed?”
He tapped the side of the bowl with his fingers. “More stressed.”
She nodded. “I could have guessed that.”
He quirked a brow at her.
She tapped his arm. “You’re white. Something must have happened.”
His eyes hardened, and Marinette instantly worried she shouldn’t have said anything. “How do you know I’m not an akuma?”
“You’re too lucid for that,” she easily dismissed. “You let me drag you up here, and you’ve said nothing about Ladybug’s miraculous.”
He sneered, looking almost disappointed by that fact. “How do you know I’m not dangerous, though?”
She scoffed. “Are you?” she sarcastically challenged, already feeling confident in her answer.
“What if I am?”
“Then what are you planning to do?”
He forced a rougish grin, but it looked tired and it didn’t reach his empty eyes. “Why would I tell you?”
“Then do it.”
His eyes blew wide. “What?”
“Do it,” she challenged, leaning closer while a challenging grin grew on her face. “What is a dangerous kitty like you planning to do to little old me?”
She watched a pink creep out from under his mask, his eyes panicked as he leaned away from her.
See, white or black, you’re still my good kitty. With a chuckle, she pulled back to give him space again. “You’re not dangerous,” she said, her smile small but genuine. “So don’t even try to pretend you are. You’re just trying to push me away, and that won’t work on me.”
Though caught off-guard for a moment, he soon relaxed with a tired sigh. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too smart for your own good, princess?”
She shrugged. “No, but thanks for the compliment.”
5. Nightmares
“You’re not really leaving, are you?” Despite having rested and eaten a few bites of food, Marinette could tell he was tired. She knew what an adrenaline crash felt like, and Chat was probably in the middle of one. The last thing she wanted was for him to hurt himself while trying to make his way home while under the heavy weight of exhaustion.
But Chat seemed determined to leave as he made his way to her balcony hatch. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t. You can stay here tonight—”
“Marinette,” he interrupted, cutting her off with a firm look. “I can’t. I have things to do.”
“But you have a fever.”
“Even if I didn’t!” he firmly cut in. “I can’t stay.”
A shocking intensity shone in his green eyes that silenced her completely.
He sighed, his angry front fading just a little. “I get nightmares,” he admitted. “Bad ones. And unless you want me to wake your parents when I wake up screaming, you’ll let me go.”
Before she even had the thought to stop him, he’d disappeared. And Marinette was left sitting on her bed in shock.
Her kitty had nightmares? And they were that bad.
“Chat Noir,” she muttered under her breath to no one. “What happened to you?”
6. Midnight
When the clock struck midnight, Marinette still could not fall asleep. She partly wondered if Chat had turned back into a pumpkin by now. Hopefully, he had and was at home sleeping after such a rough day.
Too bad she couldn’t sleep.
Frustrated by her inability to drift off into dreamland, she decided to stand out on her balcony for a bit. The rain had almost stopped by now, only a drizzle remaining. She really should go grab a coat or just go inside, but the cool, damp air was just what she needed to clear her head.
Chat Noir. Chat Blanc. What had happened to him? And why wouldn’t he let her help him? And she meant both Ladybug her and Marinette her. He was hurting badly, yet refusing to lean on anyone. Most he did was allow Marinette to care for him a bit, and she supposed it was better than nothing, but she also could guess that she wouldn’t see him again beyond when he returned the clothes to her.
And even then, he might just knock and leave the clothes there without her ever seeing him.
Lastly, there was the issue that her once cuddly kitty now flinched at her touch. Had he taken a beating? Was he hurt? Was he scared? What had happened that made him change so drastically in the course of a day?
It wasn’t long before a set of sirens broke her out of her reverie. First it was one fire truck, then two, then an ambulance followed by a couple police.
And curiosity got the better of Marinette.
She called for her transformation before following the vehicles. She normally didn’t participate in such endeavors, leaving it to the emergency responders to do their normal job, but occasionally, she would help comfort victims or secure a larger scene. At the moment, she just wanted something to take her mind off the raging questions without answers surrounding her cat.
However, as their destination came into view, her gut twisted into countless knots.
The Agreste mansion was on fire. And it wasn’t just a little one.
Adrien.
She remembered him talking about how he was moving out soon, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember if he ever told her the date he was moving. And even if he had, she doubted she could recall today’s date, anyway.
Frantic, she swung close to the building, landing on the fiery window sill of his bedroom before breaking the window in. Smoke billowed out into the night, causing her to choke and sputter. Still, she forced past the pain, blinked away the tears trying to flush the smoke from her eyes, and pushed her way into the building.
“Adrien!” she called out, trying to keep low to the floor. The flames roared up the walls, burning everything in sight and covering everything in a thick, black fog that made it almost impossible to see. “Adrien!” she called out again before pulling out her yo-yo to breathe through, just as she would underwater. She scrambled about the room, smoke burning her eyes and the heat overwhelming her as she checked his couch, his bed, the bathroom, but she couldn’t find him.
Unable to stay in the building any longer, she made her escape, swinging up to a nearby building’s rooftop for a place to land and catch her breath. Her eyes were burning, and even despite her yo-yo, she could still feel the sting in her lungs.
Oh, Tikki was going to give her an earful later.
From where she was kneeling on the nearby rooftop, Ladybug watched the increasing number of emergency responders desperately trying to put out the blazing fire. She watched as firefighters, all suited up and masked, took the brave plunge into the building, but after many excruciatingly long minutes, they emerged with only one body. One that just looked black in the man’s arms.
Please don’t let that be Adrien. Please don’t let that be Adrien. Please don’t let that be him!
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to har Adrien’s voice. She had to know he was okay. It was well past midnight by this point, but she was too desperate to care. As fast as she could, she rushed home.
The moment she detransformed, Tikki started her lecture.
“That was wildly dangerous, Marinette,” she warned.
“I know, I know,” Marinette assured, tearing her room apart as she searched for her phone. “But I just had to know.”
Tikki sighed. “I know you know,” she relented. “And I know you would have done that for any of your friends. I only say that because I worry for you.”
Her phone now in hand, she turned back to Tikki with a somewhat relieved smile. “I know you do. Thanks.”
“But please, don’t do that again.”
“Understood.” With that said, Marinette hit the call button next to Adrien’s name. Please pick up. Please pick up!
It went to voicemail. Which caused Marinette’s stomach to tighten so much she could barely get out a voice message.
She tried again, but to no avail. Ice seemed to creep through her veins, causing her to shake so badly she could barely hit the redial button, desperate to try one last time.
And got an answer.
“Adrien!” she cried, already feeling the tears of relief bubbling up. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”
“Sorry for scaring you,” he said. “I saw your messages.”
She felt like she could breathe again as the weight of worry, a weight heavier than she expected, dropped from her shoulders at the sound of his voice. “Yeah. Sorry for calling so late, but I had to know you were okay.”
“You don’t live that close to me, though. Were you close by? If you were, what were you doing out so late?”
“Um…” Marinette minorly panicked when she realized that technically, she should not know at all. The Agreste mansion was close, but not that close. She should be in bed, or maybe she would have been working on a project this late. Instead, she desperately scrambled for a lie. “I… I was up on my balcony getting some fresh air when I saw several emergency vehicles go by, and then went online to see if I could find anything out. And when I learned it was the mansion, I tried to let it go, but I couldn’t and… well… yeah.”
“Oh,” he said, voice taking on a tired edge again. “No, I’m out of the mansion. So don’t worry about it.”
“Okay,” she said, sighing with relief and feeling a wave of exhaustion slam into her. “Sorry for calling so late. I should have just let it go.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “It just meant you cared.”
“Of course, I do. You’re one of my closest friends, Adrien.”
He hummed. “Thank you, Marinette.” His voice was warm, now. Enough to make Marinette’s heart melt and remind her once again just why she fell for him all those years ago. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“I think I get the idea,” she said. “If the last…what, six years now? are any indication.”
He chuckled. “I guess so.”
As much as she would have loved to keep talking, she knew it was late and she could feel her body aching. “Hey, sorry if I woke you up. I’ll let you get back to sleep now.”
“Well, this time, you didn’t,” he dismissed. “But even if you did, I wouldn’t have minded at all.”
“Good to know,” she hummed, laying down on her bed, smile on her face. “Good night, Adrien.”
“Good night, Marinette. And thanks again, for everything.”
#miraculous ladybug#marichat#marichatmay2021#chat blanc#More pain#Adrinette#How'd that pairing sneak in here?
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