#I had a reason. this is just temp don’t worry. will not share my reason lmaooooo

[flyingcookierambles]

rant ig

in recent news last week on wednesday my idiot sister and her borderline anti-vax boyfriend got covid and now my mom is getting sick and we’re worried that it’s covid instead of a normal seasonal cold or mild allergy and im just hgioehgaoieh i hate it here no matter what i do to keep myself safe the issue is coming from within the house in my case my sister and her boyfriend stayed had dinner and stayed overnight 2 fridays ago ughghghgh i hate this i hate her literal deadly trash taste in men ghroeahgorehgreog i have asthema my mom has diabetes the idiot trash taste sister also has asthema and a lot of people in my family are 50-60+ year old boomers with various health issues from hard manual labor all their lives as blue collar workers plus my 84 year old grandma ghrueagihreuoghreaoghreio gheriogheovhdfovhav hgorehgaoeh agho plus we’ve started inviting my maternal grandma and her sister to our family parties and they’re like 70-ish or so and my grandma’s sister is only here now bc her husband literally died of covid bc some idiot step-uncle that i’ve never met apparently went to thanksgiving last year without being vaccinated and gave the entire family covid and killed his uncle im just hr igohreaoihraeioghaeoighraioheog ifoahgoheg i hate it here we’ve kicked my sister out to be with her boyfriend bc of the sickness but they were still here in my house i hate it i hate it so much plus the idiot borderline anti-vaxxer boyfriend is a carpenter and he insists on going to work going into people’s homes and businesses while getting angry at the mere suggestion of wearing a mask or doing an at home test and then whenever my sister talks on the phone with my mom she said that her boyfriend said that “she really ought to go back to work even though she’s sick” (puzzlingly her employers also agree despite it being a private nanny job for rich people on the rich side of town watching literally babies (2 kids under 4 years old, idk if they’re even old enough for a ovid shot) plus the employer’s mom died of covid just a few months ago wtf???) and that “my boyfriend’s coworkers all agree that we’re just overreacting about covid “and im just like yeah duh they’re all also constuction workers/carpenters probably who believe in some weird libteratiarn toxic masculinity where other peoples’ lives dont matter to them and grejaigerioaehoe hrgoaho ghreoag seriously im so sick and tired of thes i wish all stupid anti-vaccers a very get polio measles tuberculosis and die if you want to so so so badly bc youre a fragile little snowflake who either thinks that your “special macho dna will out-manliness literal bacteria” or “bill gates is putting microchips in our bodies for the (insert some most likely anti-semitic conspiracy theory about robot lizard alien overlords living in the sewers of atlantis)” and leave the rest of us reasonable folk who listen to science and doctors alone

in other news if i somehow get covid at least my steam deck came in + im literally working my temp office job + my retail job, so i can have an excuse for a break from my 7 days a week, 45-50 hours work that allowed me to afford a steam deck in the first place + we have an excuse to not go to the cousin that we don’t like’s wedding next weekend in ohio so gihiroeahgeorihgoe eh :/

im so tired

when the idiots stayed over it was in my sisters’ childhood room that shares a cold air vent with my mom’s room next door

ughghghghghghghg if we don’t get it at this point its a miracle

like 3/4 of all covid scares that happened to my family so far have been from my sister’s dumb libertarian anti-vaxxer/anti-covid boyfriends im just like kick her out of the house go away i cant take it anymore

if i have to call off work i want my sister to pay for my doctor’s appointment to get my inhaler prescription, my inhaler, and all the days i have to call off work, i would never get this normally, ive literally worn a mask all this time since like 2020 march when going to work even now i am the only one both my work places that consistently wears one and with this scare im eating outside in the cold windy autumn at the picnic tables for the smokers bc i dont want to be *that guy* who infects the entire office

ughghghghghgh i hate it here

[imposterogers]

Rip Ralph Boner pfp. You will be missed.

he’ll come back I promise

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#248

“C’mon in. Have a seat. David? Right? It’s weird calling you by a real man’s name, after spending a whole weekend calling you ‘Cunt’ and ‘Fag’ and ‘Shit Head’. Don’t be surprised if I slip up and start calling you that again. But you, you keep calling me ‘Boss.’ When I offered you this job last Sunday, it was after one hell of a wild weekend fucking your brains out. Is your cunt still gaping or did it snap back into place?...

“You look surprised. Well let me tell you something. I love using faggots like you. Fuck, I don’t hide that fact at all. I wouldn’t have offered you this job unless I knew you could take a pounding from my nine-and-a-half-inch baseball bat of a cock. And while it is not expected of you as part of your job responsibilities around here, I will be slamming into your cunt whenever I want. I saw that look in your eyes when I told you I had an opening here. You were already fantasizing about submitting to your boss. I know you were. I’ve seen it with dozens of fags before. Yeah, I offer jobs to freshly fucked tricks. I have always liked fucking with men, especially on the job site.

“After my wife died eight years ago, my 1,200-acre ranch seemed empty. The oil drill on the northside has me swimming in money. But I wanted fag cunt. I need to use it. I created this warehousing business with one thing in mind, satisfying my cock. I looked to have a dozen or so men that could walk up to any one of them and say I need a blowjob, and I would get one on the spot without worry of a sexual harassment charge. Or to walk through the warehouse and see a new employee getting spit roasted. And it all feels normal.

“From your test run this past weekend, I know you can swallow me, with difficulty, but still manage. You drank my piss, so I know you have done that before. You spent hours eating my ass. I can’t remember the last time my shithole was treated with so much love. Your cunt put up a fight, but by Sunday night, you had one hell of a gape. You even bled a little on that first fuck.

“Wanna see?... I took this photo when I told you to push out some of my load. Here, take it. Yeah, I like taking pics of freshly used cunts. I bet you haven’t ever seen your hole blown up on a twelve-inch glossy. Look at the detail. You can see specks of your cherry. I know you weren’t a virgin, but you were a virgin to me. That’s what matters. And this isn’t some sort of blackmail thing where we keep this a secret.

“Hell, every one of the workers there will know I bred your cunt. You wouldn’t have gotten this job without first having my load in your ass. Every one of the guys you will work with in the warehouse has had my load in his cunt. Every single one! All fourteen of them. You are number fifteen. In fact, Mark, the cute puppy you met when you came in has my morning’s load in his ass right now.

“I have known Mark the longest. He and I go back a long way. We designed this place, and he’s the one who helped me set things up so that I won’t get into trouble. He’s the only one who interacts with the public, if anybody should come by which they never do. I say that because the warehouse is around back. That’s where you will be working not up here. Let’s go take a tour of that. But first, Mark would kill me if I don’t ask you, you want the job knowing what you know?... Good. I would have been surprised had you said no. We have contingencies set up should an employee not want work in such an environment. But I know how to pick ‘em. He hee.

“Grab that pic of your leaking cunt and bring it with us. We’ll go out the back. The warehouse is purposely a few hundred feet from the office. Mark suggested that. He really keeps me honest when it comes to all this shit. In the warehouse, clothing is optional. For the most part, no one wears anything. I have asked the two managers to wear a wife beater to differentiate themselves from the others. The real reason is that they are built like brick shithouses, and they look great in a tank. Hector, the manager you will be reporting to wears a black one and Aaron, the other one wears white. Don’t know why they do that, but they do. If I’m going to be in here for a short time, I just haul out my cock and balls only, otherwise I’m naked from the waist down.

“You had indicated that you are in temp housing in town. I told you that I have housing on property. Those three buildings back there are it. Hector and Aaron each have one, and the large bunkhouse is for any of the other workers. During your probationary time, you will be living with Hector. If you loved my cock, you’ll love his. He’s more into cock worship. The final thing before we go in is compensation. The job you are hired for really only requires 15 to 20 hours per week, but you will be paid for 40.

“Hector and Aaron will make sure you do your share of the actual work. That leaves 20 hours or so to play with the others. It doesn’t have to be all sex, but have fun. The hourly rate is three times what the job normally goes for. You will be provided with a room if you want. You get half the work, three times the pay, a place to stay, and all the cock you can handle. The only thing you give up is your privacy. Now, you are not tied here; you can go into town on your own time. But when you are here on property, you will be expected to comply with the rules. Hector will go over all that.

“Inside and to the left are the locker room and showers. That locker at the end is yours. It’s the smallest, but you are the one with the lowest seniority. Go ahead and strip down. I’ll go get… never mind here he is. Hector this is Dan,… or David or whatever the fuck his name is. Fag, this is Hector, although he’s going to insist you call him ‘Sir’. Look at those muscles! They make his cock look average sized. But fuck that cock of his is just as fat as mine. It’s going to be in your ass in a few minutes. We always break in the new employees the same way, a gang bang. No, don’t put your boots away. Everyone wears theirs as they work. There’s no lock on your locker. Don’t worry about it….

“Hector, are the guys ready by the wall? Good. Good…. Fag, around this corner is the break room. Across from it, see where the guys are standing? That’s what we call the wall of cunts. See the pics there? They are the assholes of every man here. Everyone has my load leaking out, except for that one on top. That’s my shitter. Hector and Aaron’s are in their own row underneath me. You are going to be very up close with Hector’s every night. Everyone else’s is below. I like to think of it as an org chart of leaking cunts. That spot over there is for you to put your pic. Go on. We’ll go around and share names later. I would rather you learn all their cocks first. The pic looks good there.

“Men! The fag here is a piss drinker and an ass eater. Make sure we take advantage of his talents. When I come back, I expect him to be shaved from head to toe, covered in piss, his face reeking of ass sweat, and his cunt loaded up. Over the next week, I want him to taste each of your shitholes. Guys, this is probably the best rimmer I have encountered in a long time. Oh, Hector is ready! Fag, welcome to the company.”

[silverechosandblankmasks]

Platonic Polyam Bench Trio Marriage AU

You guys asked, so here I am to deliver! Platonic Polyam Bench Trio marriage au where Tommy marries into Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s platonic marriage. (focus on Tommy lol)

NOTE; These are about the c!characters and not the irl people, and I'm writing this like a poly queerplatonic relationship okay? None of this is intended to be romantic or anything else and anything that is in this list is PLATONIC INTENTIONS ONLY

Edit; Now called the Bench Husbands Au

-It kinda all kicks off when about a week or so after Tommy gets out of Prison. (Note, nothing after the first stream after Tommy gets out is canon in this au, as well as some things before)

-Tubbo and Tommy finally have a small fight and argument, before talking, like really talking and Tubbo invite Tommy to come live with them in the mansion in snowchester once its done.

-Tommy doesn't really want to... but he’s tired and lonely and still scared to death and Tubbo promises he’s safe with them, plus if they lived together they could plan on how to kill Dream easier as well.

-Ranboo doesn't mind but after that he tries to go talk to tommy more, but Tommy isnt... the most receptive? Tommy is suffering still and is feeling very replaced and lonely, but doesn't excuse his kinda snippy behavior with Ranboo

-This finally comes to ahead when Ranboo snaps and calls him out, leading to another small fight, before Tommy apologizes and they also talk. This one is more in depth though and Tommy talks about what happened in exile, in the prison, and just general shitty stuff that's being going on. 

-Ranboo, in turn, talks to him about the voices and Dream’s voice and the sleepwalking and Tommy is very much more concerned about them then anyone else he told was, and validates the fear about it, and resolves to help Ranboo get rid of it somehow.

-After this, and both trying to convince the other they should tell Tubbo, that they both probably need to tell Tubbo. They want to keep him safe and not worry him, but... they both need help in different ways and they both love him enough to not do that to him.

-The night ends with lots of tears, Tubbo admitting his own traumas and tears and what he’s been not saying, and a promise to help each other.

-Its not a while after that actually Ranboo brings up the idea of adding Tommy to their marriage. He can tell the blond is struggling with feeling replaced and low-self esteem, and it would help him feel more equal and loved maybe? Tubbo thinks its a great idea and they go to ask Tommy.

-Tommy’s pretty uppity at first, he believes its just them pitying him and treating him like glass again, which he hates more then anything, but after they calm him down and explain they just want him to feel equal and that they both actually cared for him and wanted him to join in on their thing, he’s more contemplative. Ranboo nervously throws in a few other points, like how for legal reasons it could benefit him like it was for them, their allies had to leave him alone, plus Tubbo only started making his own hotel becuase he wanted Tommy to start interacting with him again, and-

-At this point Tommy just, interrupts and says yes, surprising them. They didn't exactly think he’d say no, but they thought it would be harder then that. He laughs at their expressions and says why not? Plus it stood to reason they’d want Tommy, everyone wanted Tommy.

-Ranboo and Tubbo exchange a look before bullying their now platonic fiancée. They agree to get married as soon as the Mansion is done, and till then Tommy can finish packing his stuff and a few other things he wanted to do.

-Also Tommy is totally not avoiding Michael because every pet he ever got close to has died and he doesn't want to get attached and risk Tubbo and Ranboo losing something they cared about because of him, no siree, why wouldn't you think that?

-Speaking of Michael!

-Its not all that strange to keep undead mobs like Zombie piglins as pets, in fact Zombie Piglins are the probably better undead mob to keep around due to their mostly passiveness if you want a pet and the fact they don't need much to eat and wont really be harmed if out leave them alone for long periods of time

-Though Tommy kinda thinks Tubbo and Ranboo’s insist on treating him like their child is weird, but he’s willing to let them have it, clearly it made them happy to play around

-Isn't until he finally moves in that he realizes that Michael is different then other zombie piglins and finds himself being pulled into the parent dynamic as well

-Though now that he thinks about it, something about Michael seems off… welp it's probably nothing :)

-When the mansion is done, he tears down the dirt shack and makes it a community garden and it becomes one of the only things that stays free of the red vines (who knew watering it with water from the holy land would make it untouchable? It's thanks to this garden later others figure out how to defeat the egg)

-They elect to not have a ceremony, not now at least but Tommy actually thinks a small wedding party would be fun at a later date. Ranboo doesn't mind much if they have one or not but Tubbo is actually very excited about planning it.

-Tommy wears his ring on a necklace most of the time, but occasionally wears it on his fingers, usually when he needs something to fiddle with.

-Ranboo wears his on his tail (the area right before to fluffy part) normally but also wears it on his finger sometimes when he feels like it. (If your version has horns, he also does that too) it just really depends on what he’s feeling and if he’s forgotten where he put it. He also like, never takes it off unless to move it around because he’s afraid to lose it.

-Tubbo wears his as an actual ring on his finger (though if he has horns, sometimes he puts it on one of em if he needs the ring to be off his hand.) Tubbo learned the hard way when building nukes or other machinery (since, if you can believe it, his husbands aren’t that comfortable with the nukes as he is) you can't wield or do high heat stuff while wearing metal and nearly lost his finger. He’s very lucky and he has a small scar from it.

-Each of them have their own rooms so they can have their own space and somewhere to go if they want time to themselves/store their stuff in, but there is a 4th room (directly across from Michaels) where they share and tend to curl up to sleep together. About 5 out of 7 days of the week, some combo of them are cuddling together at night, more if they're having a bad day or nightmares.

-There's multiple bathrooms in the mansion but there's one they all like the best and will fight over it/race to get into it first before the others and the other two will stalk off salty to use a different one

-They're all pretty tactile people but out of them, Tommy is the most tactile (once the fear of being hurt recess he practically attaches himself to the others) and Ranboo is the least (he won't seek out comfort and touch as much as the others unless he needs it, but is the best at telling when the other two need touch or need to be left alone) and Tubbo is in the middle of that.

-Tommy is the one that cooks most of the time, Ranboo is banned from it after The Incident and while Tubbo is okay at cooking, Tommy just knows more recipes and how to make things taste really good.

-Tommy picked up sewing from when he was a kid, even before he was found by Wilbur and adopted by Phil, it was useful to be able to patch the rags he called clothes, and just ended up continuing because his brothers and dad sucked at sewing. It then morphed into full tailoring because he found it relaxing and liked being able to make his own clothes. He can and will be insulted if anyone wears anything he deems ‘ugly’, especially his new husbands. He makes them clothes all the time, specially Michael.

-In fact he also cleans the most, he just gets bored and while he makes a mess, if the house gets to a certain point he gets really uncomfortable and overstimulated, so he cleans.

-DomesticInnit? In my au? More likely then you think!

-Gradually the whole ‘watching the prison’ and ‘planning to kill Dream’ starts to fade as he gets back into the groove of living again and therapy. He’s just… tired of Dream having a hold on everything Tommy does, he’s sick of it. So… he just tries to live these days one step at a time. (Healing arc baby! Dream can die mad UwU)

-Tommy dragged them both to Therapy with him after a while.

-Because of this he finds himself home a lot with Michael, especially if the other two are busy. They’ve pretty much decided that someone has to be home with Michael at all times, which is now 100% more doable with the 3 of them, and Puffy or Foolish babysit if there’s ever time they can't.

-Tommy is a lot less of a hovering helicopter parent then the others and was the one to finally convince them Michael cant live trapped in a room. Yes, they were all worried for his safety but… you can't raise a kid in a cell, even if it's a nice one. Tommy takes Michael out more

-Tommy started to sleep walking again once they moved in and he still gravitates towards water for some reason. Nothing more startling then waking up because you plunged into frigid below 0 temp water while sleepwalking. Ranboo also enderwalks/sleepwalks more as well and there've been some nights where Tubbo has had to track them both sleepily walking around and make sure they don't hurt themselves or drown or something. At least Ranboo is semi-aware when enderwalking and normally just does weird ender things, Tommy likes to apparently walk into oceans or climb the mansion and nearly fall off and wander hundreds of blocks away. Tubbo’s not salty at all, really.

-Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl are 100% salty the benchtrio got platonically married before they got married

-They fight about last names all the time despite none of them actally taking eachothers last name, and if they happen to pick and choose on which one they’re feeling based on mood, well they can do what they want!

-However its agreed Michael’s last name is hyphenated so he’s now ‘Michael Beloved-Underscore-Innit’

These are all I have for now, feel free to ask about it or use my ideas! <3

[lemonjoonah]

Level of Restraint (M)

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

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

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

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a saint.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, but-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-3 years ago-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have my sources.” 

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

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

“And how do you propose to do that?”

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

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what you mean...”

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

“There’s nothing else.” 

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

“Really? Because you look upset.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No they don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes...”

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stay too then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We aren’t Jimin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why... why are you doing this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

[whaleofatjme1920]

Heya, so I was wondering if I could get a scenario based off of your hanahaki disease story for ej. What if somehow Leia started to fall for the reader some time after they got the disease?

Butterfly Kisses

[Leia (OC) X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: death (not really described), angst]

[AN: Check out my masterlist for the Hanahaki series that's originally EJ X F!Reader]

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

Leia watched you deteriorate when she stole Jack from you, and she smiled at the thought. She watched you grow sicker and sicker and basked in the piles of tiny forget-me-nots you left scattered around the house.

And she loved it. She loved watching the destruction that was you while Jack was still blinded by her light.

In truth, there was no reason for her to actually dislike you other than the fact you are a proxy. She was her father’s killing machine, nothing more, nothing less. It was nothing personal, just what her father desired of her. The white haired woman wasn’t supposed to be able to feel love or anything amiable, but then she met Jack. Just like that, everything changed.

He felt strongly for her, that much she could tell right off the bat. Did Jack’s ‘eyes’ always wander when he saw a pretty face? It was so easy for him to fall into her grasp and for her to wrap around him like an octopus, keeping him in her clutches.

If she had any semblance of guilt, it was smothered by her rationalizing that she was doing you a favor. What kind of girl should stay with a guy who wanders both physically and emotionally? Leia took away a man who, in a way, didn’t deserve you. If she could win over Jack with her sapphire eyes that fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, then he didn’t deserve you. Who knows what he would do in the long run? She took from you what you wouldn’t miss.

Here you are, day after day, dying. You’re coughing up forget-me-nots because you were too stupid to realize that you’re better off without him. You’re perishing in front of her and all Leia can think is that you deserve it. She hears you as you and Kate chat on the couch only to be interrupted by a series of thick, heinous coughs and the daily arguments that ensue between Hoodie and Jack. Toby is more supportive of you than ever! She thinks you know what love is, and she thinks you know it well.

It’s something she’ll never really have. She’s a weapon, nothing more, nothing less.

That’s not until one summer evening when you’re reaching the end of your rope that you sit down next to her on the porch. The crickets and cicadas are singing, and the light of the summer sun filters through the trees like golden tresses of hair. It’s gorgeous. She’s sipping on some pink lemonade, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air and when you sit next to her, she pauses.

Her blue eyes look over at you, and in that moment, she doesn’t sense anything from you but stillness. No animosity or acrimony, nothing scathing, just stillness. She sees how sickly you look. You really don’t have much longer left, maybe a few days if you’re lucky, to next morning at worst. Your eyes are so tired and heavy, and the dark circles under them seem almost endless. But you still look gorgeous when the light hits you just right.

“How are you?” You ask, voice soft and scratchy due to the flowers that threaten to shoot up from your throat.

“Never better,” Leia replies before sipping at her striped straw. “And you?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “How I look,” you say.

Leia cracks a grin. “These final days been treating you well?”

You shrug before making a so-so motion with your hand. “Yes and no.” You take in a deep breath to fuel yourself for just a moment longer before glancing at Leia. “I’m tired, really tired,”

“Then why don’t you get some rest?”

You smile quietly and shake your head. “I’ve done so much resting these past few days,” a scoff escapes your throat alongside some more petals, “for as long as I’ve had this!” You exclaim. “I just wanna, I don’t know, see something.”

Leia doesn’t know where the softness comes from, but she suddenly stands up. “Okay, follow me.” She places down her glass of pink lemonade before holding out her hand to you.

You raise a brow but sense no duping from her and hesitantly take her hand. You’ve spent the better part of a year hating her, loathing her for what she’s done to you, but you realize it was Jack. Jack was the one who ultimately betrayed you, and Jack was the one whose heart left the room it used to share with yours. You still have strange feelings against her, but you know that you’re okay to be with her for what may be your final night alive.

Leia hoists you up and then brings you off the back porch, not letting you do as she leads you through the tall grass. The sound of cicadas kicks up, and in the distance, you can hear deer moving through the meadows. The sun is sinking further and further below the horizon, making the sky dazzle you in hues of pinks and purples only knitted together by shades of blue. The clouds are the size of whales and swim through the sky like airships.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask with a small grin.

Leia brings you into the woods, halting from pointing out little mushroom caps that come in reds, pinks and browns before addressing you. “A place I think you’d really like,” she hums. “We’re almost there. What do you think the air smells like?”

You take in a thoughtful sniff. “Sweet flowers, grass,” you begin to list off.

Leia looks over her shoulder at you and smiles again. “Let’s go see why.” The fallen child of Zalgo then pulls you on just a little further, the scent of lavender and phlox filling the air. Honey also permeates your surroundings.

You watch as the trees shift to shades of gold before the most beautiful sight of flowers overtakes your vision. It looks like there’s a staircase carved out of rock and it leads down to an alluring flower field that blankets the entire opening. Butterflies of every kind swarm the area, landing gracefully on flowers before flitting off to the next. Fireflies are beginning to rise up and light up the blanketing darkness.

“Nice, right?” Leia says as she begins to lead you down the stairs. Her grip is gentle as she helps you.

You nod, a giggle rising up from your throat as Monarchs and Swallowtails begin to perch on your head and arms. It’s like they’re greeting someone they love. “Have you always known about this place?” You inquire, one of the Painted Ladies coming to rest on your nose, kissing you with her wings.

“Sure have,” Leia replies, guiding you slowly through the field of flowers. “I like to come here and think,” she murmurs. Leia pauses when the two of you reach a slight divot in the flower field. There’s a little rock shelf she must’ve built and in it is a well sized box. Leia sits you down, then pulls out the box and opens it. “Sometimes I like to journal here,” she explains, showing you her doodles of the flowers and the butterflies.

“I didn’t know you were into such things,” you smile, still getting covered by butterflies and their kisses.

“I do a lot of things when I’m not being a jerk,” she chuckles. “Here, you can look through it.” She hands you her journal and you gingerly take it into your hands.

You begin to flip through the pages while Leia hums and looks up at the rising moon, fireflies and butterflies resting on the flowers all around you as the breeze gently wafts by.

It’s peaceful here - there’s no signs of worry, and your lungs seem to be at peace with all the sweetness in the air. The stars begin to shine overhead, and Leia thinks that maybe, just for a moment, everything will be okay.

Sometime during the silence (and Leia’s humming), you look over at her and pause from reading and looking over her entries. “Y’know,” you begin. “You make fields nice.”

Leia almost forgets you’ve got that stupid disease when you begin to violently cough, sending the field into a deathly silence except for your internal struggle.

It becomes harder and harder for you to breathe, and Leia panics. She picks you up like you weigh nothing and begins sprinting back to the house knowing you need to be with your group. The Slender Man won’t come at her call. Maybe, just maybe, if she gets you back to Masky…

They lost you that night.

Leia barreled back into the temp house, your fading form in her arms and they lost you. Slender Man wasn’t able to save you.

Maybe it’s a curse, a curse that whatever angry part of you or the universe inflicted on her for being such an awful person when she first met you.

She knows she deserves it. Yellow sunflowers unfurl in her lungs at an alarming pace, and when she’s in that field surrounded by butterflies that do not kiss her the way they kissed you, she can’t help but feel she deserves it.

But hey, she makes fields good, you said so yourself.

[whumpcollector]

Lucas Pt.8: The gladiator and the Captain

Hey everyone. Here I am, back at it again with Lucas. There’s a bit of character introduction and set up coming so hopefully ya’ll don’t mind the slower pace. Hope you all enjoy.

CW: Mentions of vomiting

Lucas knelt over a bucket, dry heaving and choking as his stomach churned. Sweat poured down his forehead, his body shaking as another wave of nausea washed over him.

“I am so sorry Lucas,” Jawad said, kneeling beside the boy and patting his back. “I didn’t think you would take to the tincture this poorly...”

Lucas tried to respond, but any attempt at speaking was shut down as another dry heave hit him. Nothing came up, what little food Lucas had in his stomach had long since been expelled. All he could do now was wait for things to pass. 

Jawad signed, walking over to his desk and picking up his journal. He scribbled in the pages, shaking his head slightly. He turned back to Lucas. “Do you at least feel like your magic has returned?”

Lucas took his head out of the bucket, holding up a shaky hand and trying to bring forth a flame. Nothing manifested and Lucas had to abandon his attempt as another wave hit him.

“I suppose that's a no then.”

It had been a couple of days since Lucas had first awoken. He had not left Jawad’s tent, the doctor insisting that Lucas remain so he could monitor his recovery. There had been no issues, by all accounts he was healing like any normal person would. Lucas didn’t know how he felt about that. It was good that nothing bad was happening, but it was also...strange. He was used to any injuries he had healing in a few hours at most. The need for bandages, the bleeding, the soreness that came from healing muscle, it all felt unnatural. 

He didn’t care to think about whether or not he would need to get used to it.

At last the nausea faded and Lucas was able to pull himself to his feet. He was still shaky, having to brace himself against the table to avoid falling over. Jawad gently grabbed onto his arm, guiding him over to the bed and letting him sit down. He handed Lucas a bowl of water, letting him rinse out his mouth. 

“Thank you.” Lucas said, bowing his head slightly. Jawad had so far not been partial to the more overt displays of submission that Captain Edwin had drilled into Lucas. Anything more than an appreciative thanks was dismissed as being ‘unnecessary’. Lucas was grateful that so far these mistakes had gone unpunished.

“No thanks needed Lucas, least of all because I just poisoned you…” Jawad trailed, flipping through his journal some more. “Hmmm, perhaps another potion might work...if only I had something more reliable than my old mentor’s theories.” He turned to Lucas. “Are you certain there is nothing you might know that could lead us in the right direction?”

Lucas thought for a moment, racking his brain before a memory stuck out. “When I was with my old masters I was given a sort of potion once. It, um, it sort of helped my magic after I had used it a lot.”

Jawad’s eyes lit up and he walked over to Lucas, sitting down next to him and focusing on him intently. “What do you remember about it? Taste, texture, smell.” 

Lucas tried to recall what he could. Everything before his time with Captain Edwin felt fuzzy, like he was trying to look at it through thick fog. “Um, it was thick...I think? Yes it was a thick liquid and…” Lucas trailed off, trying to remember anything else. “I think...it burned when I drank it.”

Jawad nodded, writing in his journal before responding. “Do you know what it was called? Or where your...old master,” he frowned at the word, “purchased it?” 

Lucas shook his head. “No.”

“Any specific taste, any...side effects of the potion?”

“N-no.”

“Do you remember what color it was?”

“It...no.”

“Did it have a particular smell?”

“It...it smelled...sweet?”

Jawad hummed to himself, flipping through the pages of his journal rapidly. After a seemingly unsuccessful search he stood up and walked over to his table, sifting through several thick tomes and other journals. Lucas watched apprehensively, shrinking back as the doctor became more and more frustrated with his search. After what must have been at least half an hour Jawad slammed the book he was holding onto the table, causing Lucas to flinch.

“Well, there are at least a dozen theoretical,” he spat the word out like it tasted of ash, “concoctions and tinctures that help restore the use of magic and share some similarities with what you described, but without any more details I can’t determine which, if any, of the ones in my records match the one you were given.” He pinched his forehead. “Much less if any of them work.”

Lucas bowed his head. “I-I’m sorry for not being of any help, a-and for wasting your time.”

Jawad sighed, walking back over to Lucas, patting the boy on his shoulder. “It's not your fault.” He turned away, crossing his arms and placing a hand on his chin. “Perhaps it's time you introduce yourself to the others in camp. From what I can tell your recovery is coming along fine, and I imagine you’d want to get out of this tent by now.”

Lucas swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He had been dreading this, being forced to serve the others in the camp. Jawad had been easy to satisfy so far, and he was just getting used to how to address and act around him. Now he would have to learn all over again, with people likely far less forgiving than Jawad was. 

Still, it wasn’t up to him who he did and did not serve.

Jawad must have taken Lucas’s silence as agreement, which it was in a way, and beckoned Lucas to follow him out of the tent. Lucas complied, walking out from under the tent flaps and into the camp itself. He squinted at the sun, the bright light hurting his eyes after so long in relatively dim conditions. 

“Ah, Lucas. I see you are on your feet now. That is good news.”

Lucas turned to see Mehrzad approaching him, saber slung over his shoulder and helmet held at his side. He was the only person Lucas had really seen over the past few days, often bringing Jawad food or supplies he requested. He didn’t really talk to Lucas, usually only staying around long enough to drop off what he needed to and say a few parting words to his husband. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking Lucas up and down.”You seem a bit pale.”

“I am afraid that would be my fault.” Jawad said. “The solution I made had some...unfortunate side effects.”

Mehrzad let out a hearty laugh. “Ah, I see you’ve been on the receiving end of my dear husband’s ‘experiments’. I remember one time when he tried to brew something for stomach pain. I wa-”

“I’M certain Lucas doesn’t wish to hear the, well, gory details of that...” Jawad trailed off with a chuckle. “Why don’t you show Lucas around the camp? I need to convince Jon to let me acquire another batch of ingredients. I’m not sure what they are yet, but I don’t imagine they will be cheap.”

Jawad walked off, healing towards a large tent towards the center of camp. Lucas guessed that was where Captain Jonathon was. Lucas hoped he wouldn’t get too mad at Jawad’s request. Jawad shouldn’t have to get in trouble for his sake.

And Lucas didn’t want the doctor to have any reason to vent his frustrations. 

Mehrzad clapped Lucas on the back, causing the boy to flinch slightly.“Well, looks like you are stuck with me for a while. Come, give you the tour.”

Lucas followed dutifully behind Mehrzad as he was led through the camp, head bowed and trailing by a couple of feet. The camp was large, with close to two dozen tents standing and numerous people milling around.

“Most of the people here are temporary hires, we call them ‘temps’. They usually only stick around for a few contracts or long enough to make it to a major city before leaving. You don’t need to worry too much about getting to know them, they’ll be replaced before you can get to remembering their names.”

Lucas grimaced at that. So many different people to get used to serving properly and he’d just have to relearn everything again later. Avoiding mistakes would be impossible. He looked around at some of the passing people. All of them looked imposing. Well built, big (or at least bigger than him), and...violent. A beating from any one of them wouldn’t be fun.

He decided not to think about what it would be like if they chose to gang up.

Lucas was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Mehrzad had stopped walking. The two bumped into each other and Lucas sprung back, shying away and waiting for the reprimand. Mehrzad simply stared at him, confusion on his face. After a few moments of awkward silence, Mehrzad finally spoke.

“Are you alright Lucas?”

Lucas looked up meekly, scanning Merhzad’s face for any sign of displeasure. “Um...yes I am sir. S-sorry sir.”

“Apology accepted?” He cocked his head, studying Lucas before humming to himself. “Perhaps we should rest for a moment, come sit with me.”

Mehrzad sat on a nearby fallen log, gesturing for Lucas to join him. Lucas obeyed and took a seat on the log, just close enough that he wasn’t being disrespectful but not too close for his own comfort. Mehrzad had seemed merciful thus far and Lucas felt like the man would be willing to give this one liberty. The lack of any reprimand confirmed his guess and Lucas let himself relax just a tad.

“So, Lucas, how are you feeling? You seem to be in much better shape, my husband’s experiments aside.”

“Oh. I’m feeling alright. Jawad says that my healing is going normally.” 

“That is good news.” Mehrzad reached into one of his greaves and pulled out a small dagger. Lucas tensed, eyeing the weapon warily, but the man simply began to use the tip to clean beneath his fingernails. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you traveling with that caravan for? From what I can tell you weren’t exactly there of your own desire.” He turned to Lucas, a playful smile on his face. “Am I in the presence of some dangerous killer?”

Lucas looked down at his hands, memories of the attack flooding mind. Scenes of bloody fields and butchered corpses. He felt his throat tighten and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The bloodstained face of Harold flashed in his eyes and Lucas shook his head harshly, banishing the image before he had the chance to think about it. 

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.” Mehrzad said softly. 

Lucas’ head snapped up at Mehrzad’s words. The man had a concerned look on his face, eyebrows narrowed and lips formed into a small frown. Lucas swallowed thickly. “I was a performer for, for two of the men at the caravan.”

“A performer eh?” Mehrzad raised an eyebrow at the answer. “It's a difficult job, pleasing a crowd, isn’t it? You run yourself ragged putting on a show, put everything you have into it only for the slightest mistake to turn everyone against you.”

Lucas looked at the man taken somewhat aback. “Y-yes. It was difficult. My master Harold always made me do better after each performance.”

“Ah, yes. Always have to make it bigger, flashier, more impressive. First you’re fighting a single man, then you’re shoved into a pit filled with a dozen hyenas and given nothing more than a broken spear.” He shook his head, almost as if reminiscing. “I was a gladiator back in my homeland, a rather good one if I may say. Sometimes I can still hear the roar of the crowd in my ears.”

Lucas didn’t know if he should say anything. The two lapsed into an awkward silence as Lucas contemplated possible responses. Mehrzad coughed, fiddling with his dagger before placing it back into his greave. 

“What's it like, using magic?” 

Lucas started slightly, looking at Mehrzad and frowning. How would he describe it? 

“It...hurts.” Merhzad raised an eyebrow but didn’t commnet. “It hurts when I try to use it, like, like I'm lighting a fire inside of my body that burns me. The more I try to do, the hotter it is and if I do too much it...it hurts a lot more.” He paused, looking down at his hands and running his fingers along the leylines. “But, it also feels natural, like it's something I’m supposed to do. Without I...I feel wrong. Like, like I can’t blink or, or move my fingers.” 

Lucas sniffled. “I don’t like it.”

Lucas was crying. He hadn’t realized he was until a tear landed on the back of his hand. A shaky breath left him and he wiped at his eyes, trying to regain his composure as best he could. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he turned to see Mehrzad looking at him sympathetically.

“I can’t imagine what that feels like, losing something so...integral to who you are.” He handed Lucas a small piece of cloth and let home clean off his face. “But don’t worry. You will get your magic back. Jawad, for all of his eccentricities, is brilliant. Whatever the solution is to your problem, he will find it. I assure you.”

Lucas nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The pair sat together as Lucas gathered himself. Close to an hour passed and Mehrzad stood up, stretching his back and gathering his gear.

“I must go, Lucas. I have a contract soon and I am to meet the others for a briefing. You take care of yourself alright?”

With that Mehrzad left, and Lucas was left alone. A sense of unease filled him. What should he do? He wasn’t given any orders or instructions. Was he just supposed to...wander around until someone told him to do something? 

Lucas stood in place for a few moments before deciding to do just that. He looked around and decided to walk towards the center of the camp. As he moved he took in his surroundings trying to notice any major landmarks he might be told to go to. As he searched he noticed a woman working at what looked like a giant cauldron. She was busy skinning what looked like a deer. A cook perhaps. 

Lucas decided to ask if she was in need of help. Kitchen work was easy and he was decent at it. He probably wouldn’t do anything that warranted punishment. 

Not that she would need a reason if she wanted to hurt him. 

He started walking towards the woman when he heard someone call out to him.

“HEY! Who the hell are you?”

Lucas turned to see a lean man walking towards him. He stood straight, bowing his head as the man approached. “Haven’t seen you around before. You a new hire?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes sir, my name is Lucas. I am here to serve at your command.”

The man released an eyebrow. “What, really?” He fiddled with the scabbard on his hip before producing a dirtied sword. “You uh, you gonna clean this then?”

Lucas deflated, so much for kitchen work. Still, an order was an order. “Of course sir, if that is what you desire.”

“Shit, well, have at it then.” He dropped the sword into Lucas’s arms. 

Lucas grasped the sword carefully, making sure to avoid the blade. He noticed the man walking away and called out after him. “Um, sir, do you know where I could find a rag?”

“Fuck if I know kid, you figure it out.”

Oh. Lucas looked down at the sword, and then at his surroundings. He didn’t see anywhere that might have something to clean with. Maybe he could ask someone. He noticed a woman walking by and tried to talk to her.

“Excuse me ma’am cou-”

“Piss off asshole, I'm not in the mood for chatter.”

She didn’t even look at him as she walked away. Lucas deflated further, looking down at the sword. He needed to get it cleaned soon. If he took too long the owner might get angry. Moving to a nearby fallen log to sit on Lucas began to rub at the sword with his shirt.

The work was slow, with most of the grime coating the blade taking considerable effort to work out. His shirt quickly became stained, with black and brown splotches dotting the area he used to wipe the blade. Just as he was about to finish a group of three other people walked up to him, dirty equipment in hand.

“Hey you, you the kid whose cleaning kit?”

Lucas looked up and nodded meekly. “Yes sir, I am here to serve at your command.”

“Damn, well here, clean this would ya?”

All three of them dumped their equipment at Lucas’ feet before walking off, leaving Lucas with a much larger workload. He sighed, his shoulder slumping at the sight of the pile. Dejectedly he placed the sword against the log he was sitting on and got to work cleaning off a breastplate.

News about his services spread throughout the camp, and before long Lucas had a barrack’s worth of arms and armor waiting for him to clean. After a few pieces Lucas just decided to strip his shirt off, using as much of the fabric as he could. It was long and exhausting work, with the last pieces being cleaned close to sundown. His arms ached from the rubbing and sweat poured down his face. As he hunched over the particularly filthy spear a shadow loomed over him. He sighed internally, something else to clean.

“Um, Lucas. What are you doing?”

Lucas looked up to see Captain Jonathon standing in front of him, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I am cleaning this equipment, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huh. Why exactly?”

“Because I was told to, Captain Jonathan.”

“Did you...want to clean all this equipment?”

“I am more than happy to serve, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huuuhhh. And you are using your shirt to clean because…?

“I could not find a rag, Captain Jonathon.”

The captain looked down at him like he had sprouted a second head. Lucas squirmed under his gaze, unsure if he had done something to upset the man. 

“How...how long have you been cleaning this stuff kid?”

“Um...since midday I believe Captain Jonathon.”

The captain exhaled, placing a hand on his face and shaking his head. “Ok. For the record, don’t go around cleaning everyone's kit alright? Don’t need any of these bastards getting lazier.”

Lucas nodded, quickly dropping the weapon and starting to pull his shirt back on.

“Don’t put that thing on!” Lucas’ eyes shot up to see Jonathon staring at him like he had just stuck his hand into a fire. “It’s covered in dirt and grease, what th- Cathrai above, what's wrong with you?”

Lucas inhaled sharply, dropping the shirt and then falling to his knees, head bowed. “Im-I’m sorry Captain Jonathan. I-I did not mean to upset you.”

Lucas waited, trembling as he heard the man approach. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a blow to land. Instead he felt a hand lay gently on his shoulder, and looked up to see the captain kneeling down to look at him.

“Hey kid, it's alright. Didn’t mean to snap at you. It's been a long day for both of us. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” He pointed towards a nearby river. “Go take a bath. I’ll get you some new clothes and make sure Annya saves you some stew.”

Lucas paused for a moment before nodding eagerly. “Yes, Captain Jonathon. Th-thank you for your kindness.”

 “No problem kid.” Jonathan stood up, taking the shirt with him and walking away. After a few steps he turned. “Oh and uh, don’t call me ‘Captain Jonathon’, all the time. I imagine it gets a bit tiring .”

“Yes Ca-, yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Jonathan nodded and walked away. Lucas watched him for a few moments before making his way towards the river. It was a fair way away from any of the tents, far enough to give some privacy. Lucas undressed himself and walked into the water. It was cold, but once he was able to wash away the muck and grime that had built up on his skin he felt much better. 

After he finished cleaning himself Lucas sank down into the water slightly, letting himself relax. When was the last time he had been allowed to bathe in private? Or without a time limit? He honestly couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, he was allowed to now. He sank lower, resting his chin just above the waterline. He shouldn’t stay too long. He didn’t want Jonathon to think he was lazy or taking advantage of the man’s generosity. He let himself languish for another minute before pulling himself from the water. The air was cold against his wet skin but he didn’t mind. He hadn't felt this clean in...years probably.

Jonathon was sitting on a tree stump a short distance from the river. His back was to the water, a gesture that Lucas appreciated greatly. The man was carving at a piece of wood with a small knife, whistling a tune that Lucas didn’t recognize. He stopped when he heard Lucas’ footsteps, turning around and picking up a shirt he had laid across his lap. 

“You look better kid, here, new shirt for you.”

Lucas took the shirt and pulled it on. It was big, the fabric hung loosely off of his body, but it was clean and warm. “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem kid. I’ll see about getting you some nicer pants too, those things look a little thin.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

Jonathan nodded and gestured for Lucas to follow him. The two walked back to the camp, heading towards the center. Several small groups of mercenaries were sitting around a large bonfire, talking and laughing over bowls of food. Lucas saw the lady from earlier, Annya he figured, doling out stew from the cauldron, a small line forming in front of her. 

“Take a seat Lucas, I’ll go get us dinner.”

Lucas nodded and sat down on a box placed towards the fringes of the bonfire. Jonathan walked towards the lady, nodding to a few of the mercenaries he passed. Some nodded back, others offered salutes, one asked for the captain to join him and his friends at a game of dice. Jonathon declined and walked up to the cauldron, taking his place in line behind the others. 

Lucas watched him, trying to get a read on the man. He seemed well liked by most of the people in the camp. That was a good sign, well liked people don’t tend to dish out beatings for no reason. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt. It was well made, probably the nicest piece of clothing Lucas had ever worn. He was surprised it was wasted on him.  

The captain returned with two large bowls of stew, sitting next to Lucas and handing him one of them. “I had Annya give us the big bowls. Perks of being captain.” He pulled a spoon from one of his pockets and handed it to Lucas. “Eat up, you did a lot of work today. More than your share.”

Lucas took the spoon and dug into the meal. It was as good as always. He had been fortunate enough to be allowed meals every day so far, probably to help along his recovery. He hoped that things wouldn’t change too soon, though he had a sinking feeling that they would once he finished healing. 

“Annyas a blessing. Before we picked her up we didn’t have anyone who could cook. We ate what preserved crap we could carry and whatever we managed to hunt or forage.” Jonathan shook his head. “Once when we were low on supplies all we had to eat was raw grain and mushrooms for days. I don’t think I've come closer to being killed by my own men.”

The captain tilted his head back, draining the last of the broth from his bowl and placing it on the ground. He turned to Lucas, a serious expression on his face. Lucas paused, placing the bowl in his lap and waiting for the captain to speak.

Jonathan pulled out a small metal medallion shaped like a crown. “You see this? This is the emblem of the Crownsmen - that's the name of our company if you didn’t guess. Everyone who works for me has one, and it serves as a symbol of our unity and camaraderie, of our code. One very important tenant of that code is fairness, everyone pulls their fair share, no more no less.” He pocketed the medallion. “Now you aren’t a crownsman, but you are a guest in our camp, which means that applies to you too.”

Lucas gulped and bowed his head. “O-of course sir. I am more than willing to do whatever you order.”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, no. Probably could have phrased that better...” He muttered to himself quietly before turning his attention back to Lucas. “Anyways that's not what I meant. It's been less than a week since we pulled you half dead from the site of a massacre and today you spent the better part of 10 hours cleaning a barrack’s worth of kit. That is far and away beyond what I consider a fair share of work. You’re on your feet now so I’ll probably have you help around the camp a bit but any work you do comes from me. Anyone else tries to order you around you tell them to fuck off alright?”

Lucas nodded, it made sense that the captain of the camp would be the only one allowed to give him orders. At least that meant he would only need to learn how to please one person now.

“Good, now get some sleep. It’s late and you must be exhausted.” Jonathan stood up and began to walk away before turning around. “Oh, and if anyone tries to give you too much shit you let me know. I don’t tolerate infighting.”

“Yes sir, of course.”

Jonathan nodded and left. Lucas watched him for a moment before picking his bowl back up. Fatigue was starting to hit him hard and he could barely muster the energy to finish his food and walk back to Jawad's tent. It was empty, the doctor was likely taking care of something. Lucas was too tired to wonder what. He crawled into the cot he had been using and let himself drift away. 

So far, this place didn’t seem too bad.

Tags: @haro-whumps @ladygwennn @dramaticcollapse @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @inpainandsuffering

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Pick Your Poison

Pieck Finger x Porco Galliard,

Pieck Finger x Zeke Yeager

word count: 1531

summary: Pieck is the receptionist for the science department at Marley U, Zeke is a professor in the same department. Porco is an intern who’s finishing up his degree to get on the faculty there as well. That is all. No story here, not at all.

a/n: I like college AUs, die mad. nothing horny here, just... aftermath. And just for clarity the behavior Pieck and Zeke exhibit as mentioned in this fic are NOT BEHAVIORS I CONDONE so if u do this I will berate you for it like a very disappointed mother

masterlist

“Fuck you.” I say as I put my clothes back on.

“You just did.” Porco says to me, “And don’t act like you didn’t like it.” He smiles like we’re in high school again and not newly hired university staff.

“I told you not to come over. Zeke’s gonna be here any minute.”

He scowls. “Oh, right, I forgot you’re only with him so your parents think you’re dating someone they like.”

I scoff. “Zeke is responsible! And mature, and thoughtful, and-“

“-Don’t forget using you for his own personal gain, purposely hiding your relationship from the general public so he can cheat on you-“

“Shut up.” I snap as he starts listing shit off on his fingers. “He’s only supposed to look the part, I never told him he had to act it.”

We rush to put clothes on in silence until he says, “Are you just expecting to date him until your parents die or something?”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Porco I don’t know! Are you expecting me to date you?”

“I’m just saying,” He deflects, “You know they won’t be satisfied with you and Zeke breaking up eventually. And considering you’re making attempts to hide us from him, you must know that Zeke feels the same way. And you’re catering to his feelings.”

“I am not.”

“Are too,” He insists, “And if I’m being honest, you need to figure it out. You know how I feel.”

I say, “And I told you, if you find someone you like better or are just interested in, you don’t need my permission to pursue them. Just don’t fuck me after that.”

“I know.” He says. “But maybe there is no one else who can pique my interest quite as much as you do.”

“You only like me because I’m unavailable to you, so it’s naughty and scandalous.” I roll my eyes.

“Maybe that was the case at first, but things change.” He admits, pulling on his shoes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, brows furrowed.

“What do you think I mean?” He counters. “We’ve been doing this, hanging out and stuff, for a long time. Don’t tell me you can’t think of one redeeming quality about yourself beyond just the sex that I’ve stuck around for.”

I can feel the heat coming to my face at his remark. “Well, not to be humble or anything, but I don’t really think about myself in that way all that much. So you’d have to tell me.”

“Oh, so you like it when I say nice things about you?” He says, standing up and walking over to corner me. “Didn’t know that.”

“That’s not what I said!” I argue.

He lowers his voice. “But don’t act like you don’t secretly like it. I know you too well for you to play me like that, Pieck.”

A knock comes from the door. My eyes widen. Zeke’s here. “Gimme a minute!” I call, then whisper to Porco, “You have to leave!”

“Off the back porch? But your neighbors will see me.”

“How else? And like they’d care, they have threesomes over there.” I punch Porco’s arm when he gets a look in his eye. “No. I don’t like sharing.”

“And I like it even less than you do.” He states, wrapping me in a quick hug and kissing my forehead. “See you later. Have fun with your Professor.” And climbs down the balcony as I run to the door.

“Zeke!” I exclaim, “I’m so happy to see you.” My warm smile falters when I see his face. He knows. I usher him in as I stare at the ground and close the door.

“I know that was Porco.” He says simply. Flatly.

“Y... yes....” I say, not sure exactly what to say.

“How long are you going to keep this charade up? Presenting me to your parents like we’re madly in love, meanwhile having him in your bed almost every night. Hm?” He asks me, not in an aggressive way, but definitely not gently.

I protest, “I could ask you the same, with all the panties I’ve found in your apartment.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand against his face. “Pieck, I only strayed when I suspected you and Porco. Not saying it’s an excuse,” He quickly defends, “But I think we both can agree the blood’s on both of our hands.”

“I didn’t start fucking him until I found the evidence against you anyways!” I scoff, knowing he’s full of shit. “And what about hiding our relationship from everyone and their mother?”

He looks surprised. “Well. Then I misjudged your relationship with him... partially. Anyways, why wouldn’t I? Everyone on staff thought you and Porco were together even before we started dating.”

“Zeke, you know all the rumors are just Connie wanting to feel included. He’s a temp worker for a reason.” I remind him.

“Well. What’s done is done, then. But... I have something for you.” He gets down on one knee, producing a small box from his pocket. He doesn’t open it, but I can tell what it is.

“Zeke, what is this...?” I ask, extremely confused as to why he would propose after confirming Porco and I were having sex behind his back.

“I won’t ask you that question, because it isn’t fair of me. But.” He pauses, intentionally making eye contact. “I can’t be alone forever. You know my... condition, makes me a ticking time bomb. If I were to propose to you, it would be under the assumption that we would end our scandalous behaviors and be committed solely to each other. I love you, Pieck. I know you feel something for me. But I also know you care for Porco. If you come to my apartment tomorrow and tell me you’ve cut that attachment off, then I’ll propose to you. If you tell me you couldn’t do it, then I want to part ways. I want to find myself a stable marriage. A loving marriage. One where I can raise my children with my wife, with the picket fence, with the house that looks like a cottage, and maybe a few dogs padding around. When I die, I want to feel like a piece of me is left in this world, not that the woman I married is going to forget me and run to the footloose rebel her parents never wanted her to hang around as a kid.”

I smile sadly and gently push his hand down. “I understand.”

He nods, putting the ring box away. “Thank you, Pieck.”

Zeke’s always been very precise with his words. That’s why he makes such a great professor. That speech is probably the longest spiel he’s been on outside of the classroom. As the science department’s receptionist, I’m better at listening than talking, myself.

I mull this over as I walk to Porco’s apartment, only knocking once before he opens the door. It’s almost like he has a Pieck satellite.

“That was a short visit. What happened?” Porco asks.

“He uh... well, he didn’t propose, but he posed the option.” I say awkwardly.

“And...?” He pushes.

“I turned him down. I told him about this hot intern who caught my eye, and that the university wants to hire them permanently after they get their doctorate.” I laugh.

He smirks, “Well, I sure am glad I managed to catch the eye of the cute receptionist in the science department. What do you think the faculty are gonna say about an inter-department relationship?”

“Oh, they’ve been shipping Piecko forever. I’m more worried about what my parents will say.” I half-joke.

He actually looks worried for a second. “What will they say?”

“Probably something along the line of, ‘You’re an idiot for giving up money like that!’ But I don’t mind being an idiot if it means I’m happy and in love.” I smile and hug him. “You know, Zeke’s vision of our life together was very cookie cutter.”

“Told you he wasn’t right for you. You, Pieck, are no cookie cutter kind of gal. But for curiosity’s sake, what kind of life would that be?” Porco raises a brow, patting the seat next to him as he sits down on his sofa.

“He wanted...” I pause to gather my thoughts. “Dogs, kids, a picket fence - the whole package.”

“Oh, dogs would never do for my Pieck,” Porco says dramatically. “Everyone knows you’d want an African Grey and a Komodo Dragon!”

“Don’t forget a Pixie Frog!” I add, now grinning from ear to ear.

“That too. And your fence would have to be scary, like fake heads on pikes and barbed wire to ward off your enemies.” He suggests.

“Exactly. Why have a protective barrier if it isn’t cryptic enough to keep intruders out?” I say in a tone implying that should be obvious.

“If only the science department knew they had such a weirdo running their front desk.” He jokes, “They’d hunt you down with Tiki Torches.”

“If they did, I’d curse Connie’s mom to be a giant monster, then turn into one myself.”

Porco leans in to softly kiss my cheek. “The faculty wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Winter

gif via @damerondjarin​

summary: You spend the winter falling in love with Frankie.

series parts: summer, fall, winter

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales x f!reader

warnings: fluff, celebrations of thanksgiving (friendsgiving, i should say) and christmas

rating: T

word count: 6.154k

masterlist

The first snow is falling heavily the day you meet Frankie.

It’d be hard not to notice it, since you’re driving home on roads that definitely haven’t been salted yet—thus putting you on the highest level of caution. You’re already going the speed limit, and even then, you’ve still found yourself slipping a few times. You figure it’s time to finally get the snow tires back on, but what makes your car a problem isn’t your tires or even the snow. It’s the engine heating up so badly that you can almost see the smoke coming out of the hood, and with a curse, you pull the car over to the side of the road.

You stop the car and reach for the gloves you’d tossed so carelessly on the passenger seat just before you left work, pulling your coat a little tighter to your body as you step out of the car. You walk around to the hood and lift it, coughing a few times when some of the trapped smoke finally escapes. Thanks to years of having to deal with your own car troubles, there’s many things you can fix on your own, but this one’s got you beat. Snow sticks to your hair, body, and lashes, causing you to have to blink them away multiple times as you try to find out what’s happening. You’re at a loss, and you can’t help heaving out a sigh as you reach into your coat pocket for your phone.

No service. Great. The idea of using back roads to avoid the post-work traffic used to seem great—until you realize that you’re left out here with no signal at all, stranded and having to wait at the mercy of a stranger.

Who comes much sooner than expected.

You’ve just started to cross your arms and consider your options when the red pickup truck pulls over behind you. Your eyes narrow thanks to the brightness of their headlights, but they soon shut off, and immediately your eyes are drawn to the man who hops out of the truck. He’s got a forest green puffy winter jacket keeping him warm, paired with a baseball cap that one of his gloved hands tips on his head as he approaches you. As he comes closer, you meet his dark brown gaze, eyes that study you closely with genuine concern as he notices your predicament. You can feel the heat already rising in your cheeks as you look down at your feet in the snow. He’s much more prepared for it with jeans and a pair of boots versus you in your work slacks and the pair of heels you forgot to exchange for your own boots.

“Everything okay?” the man asks, his voice a slight rasp that’s much more gentle than you’d been expecting. He stops in front of you, hands coming to rest on his hips as he looks from your car back to you. “I know this is the worst kind of weather to break down in.”

You offer a small chuckle as you give your head a shake. “Well, actually, my engine’s overheated,” you explain, walking back to the open hood. The man follows you, his gaze investigating the area as you gesture towards it. “I can’t find out why, though. I didn’t want to keep driving in case, y’know…”

“Yeah, that’s a good call,” the man assures you, giving you a nod of approval before he leans over more to look around for you. After a few moments of silence, his brow lifts in interest, and he offers a brief ah before he stands up straight and looks over at you again. “It’s your radiator.”

You frown. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s cracked, and now it’s leaking.” You heave out a heavy sigh, clapping your gloved hands together as you grimace even further. “Don’t worry, it’s not a huge issue—for now. You’ve just gotta use a coolant on it to get the engine back to a normal temp, and then it’ll be fine.”

You look up at the man with a furrowed brow. “I don’t have any coolant.”

The man gestures with his gloved thumb towards his truck. “I have some, if you’re alright with me using it.”

You don’t hesitate to nod earnestly in response. “Yeah, of course! That’d be really great.” You give him a smile and he returns it. “Thank you so much…” you trail off, waiting for him to fill in with his name.

He seems to understand as he holds out a gloved hand to shake. “Frankie,” he tells you, his smile only growing as you accept his hand. “Frankie Morales.”

You respond with your name, watching as he hurries back to his truck and opens the door to search for the coolant. Frankie’s quick with it as he jogs back over, and you step away to let him work as he loosens the cap and then pours the coolant gingerly into the reservoir. As he works, you talk about how you both ended up on these back roads. You explain your reasoning of avoiding the traffic on the main roads after work, while he says he’s seen one too many disasters for his liking and he often sees people get stuck on these roads—so now, he drives them so he can help whoever’s in need. Frankie’s evident kindness warms your heart immediately, and you can’t help smiling throughout his entire explanation, though you discover not everyone’s as good about noticing it as you are.

“I’ve had a lot of people not want my help,” Frankie’s saying as he starts to tighten the cap back on. “I mean, I don’t blame them. It’s kinda weird for a stranger to just pull over and offer their help, especially if it’s a woman by herself—because I’m sure you know how a lot of men sadly just aren’t trustworthy these days. I don’t wanna freak them out, you know?” Frankie looks over at you, and for a split second, a small look of horror crosses over his features. “I’m not freaking you out, am I?”

You can’t help but laugh because you haven’t gotten an inkling of anything other than pure friendliness from Frankie. “No, Frankie, not at all,” you assure him, even daring to leave a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re nothing but very kind to me. I’m surprised that others can’t see that.”

You think your words might’ve made Frankie blush just judging by the way he ducks his face away from view for a moment, distracting himself as he pulls down the hood of your car for you. “Well, thanks,” Frankie says in a voice even softer than before. “I just, y’know, I wanna see people get home safe.” He tucks his gloved hands into his coat pockets as he speaks.

Your smile continues to grow as you shake your head. “We need more people like you in this world. I can’t thank you enough.”

Frankie returns your smile. “Please, it’s the least I could do.” He then hesitates, and you watch one of his hands free themselves to tip his hat again before he speaks. “You can feel free to shut me down completely on this, but do you mind if I, uh, if I follow you home? Just to make sure you make it safe? I know that sounds insanely creepy, but I just want to make sure the coolant’s working, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I found out—.”

You cut him off with a laugh and another reassuring hand on his shoulder. “That’s fine, Frankie. I think that if you really were a creepy stranger, you would’ve made your move when my car wasn’t working.”

Frankie laughs with you, giving you a nod as you both start to make a move for your cars. He first helps you into yours, obviously having noticed the situation with your now snow-filled heels as he opens your door and offers a hand for you to take as you balance and kick the snow out of them. Once you’re all settled, you watch in the rearview mirror as he heads back to his truck, and you wait until his headlights are on to pull back onto the road—pleased to notice that the engine’s temperature has returned to normal.

The drive home to your townhouse isn’t too long from where you’d been stranded, and in just under ten minutes, you’re pulling into your half of the shared driveway. You make it into the garage, hoping that Frankie hasn’t driven away yet. Thankfully, when you step out of your car, you notice he’s still there, having pulled up along the street. You bite back a smile as you hurry down to where he’s parked, watching as he opens his window to talk to you.

“Does everything look alright?” Frankie questions, and you can see a concerned furrow in his brow.

“It looks great,” you assure him, glad to see the knit in his brow straighten out as he gives you a nod of approval. Before he has a chance to speak again, you keep going, knowing that you’ll sound ludicrous but feeling unable to stop yourself. “I can’t thank you enough, and I’d really like to be able to do something. Do you want to come in quick, just for a mug of hot chocolate or something? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t, you probably have places to go.”

Frankie smiles at you. “I think that sounds really nice,” he agrees. “Should I park here, or—?”

“You can pull in the driveway, if you want,” you tell him, and he nods before you give him the room to move. There’s a warmth in your chest that sticks there and you can’t exactly place it. All you can do is focus on retrieving your work bag from your car as Frankie parks his truck and hops out again, following you to the door and making sure he kicks all the snow off his boots before he enters behind you. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not much,” you begin to apologize as you watch him look around the house, taking his coat for him once he shrugs it off. “It’s not very ready for guests, either.”

“It’s great,” Frankie assures you with a kind smile. “It’s very… I know this isn’t technically a word, but it’s very homey.”

“Actually, I think that is a word,” you confirm with a giggle, inviting him to sit at your kitchen island as you get out a saucepan and pour some milk into it. You turn to face Frankie with an eyebrow raised. “Wait, you aren’t lactose intolerant or anything, right?”

Frankie chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I’m fine.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and continue with what you’re doing, getting the hot chocolate mix out from a cabinet beside the stove. “I just have the mix, I hope that’s okay. I know it’s pretty sugary, but I don’t usually have a lot of time to make it from scratch.”

“Hey, don’t worry, really.” Frankie’s tone is gentle yet stern, as if he’s trying to get the point across to you very thoroughly. “I appreciate the fuss, but I promise, it’s not necessary. I’m not picky at all.”

You smile to yourself as you set out two mugs, finally turning back towards Frankie and standing across from him at the counter. In the lighting that hangs from your ceiling just above the counter, you can more vividly see his face, the kind twinkle in his dark eyes and the scruff that graces his jaw and upper lip. You hope your admiration isn’t so obvious as you shrug at him. “I know, I just… you were so helpful to me, and I just want to return the favor.”

Frankie raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s it?” His tone contains a hint of teasing in it. He’d obviously caught you in the act of observing him.

You scoff playfully, looking down at your hands that rest on the countertop. Your fingers are folded together as your thumbs fiddle with each other. “Well, I guess I also thought you were cute, too.”

You look back up and bite back a smile upon seeing Frankie’s cheeks reddening a bit. He tips his hat—which you figure, by now, is a nervous habit of his—and see a small smile of his own tugging at the corner of his lips. “Then it’s not weird for me to say that I thought the same thing about you, right?”

You laugh and shake your head, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as your gaze never breaks away from his. “I guess it’s not. Every great romcom starts with something breaking down, right?”

Frankie laughs with you, his eyes crinkling up a bit in a way that has your stomach erupting with butterflies. “Or canceled flights,” he adds, “and that’s really down my alley.”

You feel curiosity fill you at his words, and you encourage him to elaborate on that. Frankie begins to tell you about his piloting experience, including the job he has at the local airport teaching flight lessons. He explains that’s why he said before that he’s seen a lot of disasters, because flying can get really tricky sometimes, so he’s always looking out for people’s backs. He includes this with his time spent in the Delta Force, especially with his group of friends who he’s always had to watch out for thanks to their enthusiastic yet reckless behavior. He keeps going even as you finish heating up the milk, preparing the mugs and handing one over to him.

Frankie encourages you to talk more about yourself as well, and you go on about your desk job you have right now and your day-to-day life that pales in comparison to his. Still, Frankie’s interested in every detail, his brown eyes completely alluring as they look into your gaze with such genuine interest. You tell him that you’ve moved far away from family and he tells you the same thing—a commonality that warms your chest more than it probably should. You go on and on in such an easygoing conversation until you realize Frankie’s been here for two and a half hours now and both your mugs have been empty for half that time.

“I should probably go, now,” Frankie admits, which is what causes you to whip around and read the time on the digital clock of your microwave. You gasp lightly and start to apologize for keeping him so late, but Frankie holds up a hand to stop you as he gets out of his chair. “If I wanted to go earlier, I would’ve. I actually would stay longer, but I’ve got a flight lesson early tomorrow.” You smile at each other, and Frankie starts to reach into his pocket. “I’d love to keep this going, though. Do you mind if I…?” Frankie trails off as he hands you his phone, which is open to a new contact.

You agree without hesitation, entering your name and number and letting him do the same in your phone. He leaves with a warm smile, one that only grows when you ask him to text you when he’s gotten back safely. Frankie does exactly that—along with a request to take you out later in the week.

That’s how you end up hopping out of Frankie’s truck at the local outdoor rink, receiving a helping hand from Frankie after he’s already opened the door for you. You’d warned him that your ice skating skills are even worse than the average person and he’d told you not to worry—that you could drag him down with you if you needed to. He looks over at you as you walk in, his gaze observing your winter apparel for the cold night as he smiles softly.

“You look warm enough,” Frankie says softly, “but I have some extra stuff in the truck in case you need it.”

You smile up at him. “Thanks, Frankie. I don’t think your thoughtfulness ever ends.”

Frankie simply shakes his head, but you don’t miss the small blush of pink across his cheeks as he leads you inside to the counter. He—of course, and much to your own protests—pays for not only the time spent skating but also your rentals. He’s got his on in record time but you take a bit longer, which he doesn’t seem to mind at all. As soon as you stand up, you already start to wobble a bit, instinctively reaching for Frankie’s arm to stabilize yourself. You look shyly up at him afterwards, feeling embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you nearly squeak out, starting to loosen your hold on his arm.

“Don’t apologize,” Frankie insists, placing his gloved hands over both of yours to encourage you to keep them there. “I told you, I’m your anchor—and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You nod, trying to hold back a smile as he helps to lead you onto the ice. He holds you by both your hands to get you safely inside, and once you’re gliding, you’ve resumed your position of holding onto one of his arms with both your hands. Frankie’s easily the one guiding both of you as you go along, looking over at you every once in a while to make sure you’re hanging in there. You find it easier than you thought it’d be, and you smile up at him in delight. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Frankie raises an eyebrow with a gentle smile. “Yeah?” He watches your feet glide beside his. “I think so, too.” He gently begins to tug upwards on his arm, encouraging your hands to meet as he entwines your gloved fingers together. “Just in case.”

You beam up at him. “Just in case,” you echo his words, letting the sarcasm drip into your voice as Frankie nudges your shoulder with a chuckle. The movement causes you to trip just a step, but instinctively you wrap your free hand around his arm again, throwing Frankie into a fit of laughter as you give his arm a tighter squeeze in playful anger. “So much for keeping me safe!”

Frankie shakes his head and gives your hand a squeeze. “I would’ve caught you,” he assures you softly. His words have already made your stomach flutter, but then he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek, which truly makes your heart practically fly out of your chest. You bite back a warm smile as you hold a gaze with him, pulling yourself closer to his side as you continue gliding together.

You keep going around in circles as you talk about the upcoming holiday of Thanksgiving, detailing each other’s plans and what you usually do with the inability to travel out to your families—and the lack of desire to, thanks to flight costs, risky weather, work hours, and family drama. The rest of your conversation flows just as easily as it had the night you met and during all your other text or phone conversations ever since. You also can’t help noticing the eyes you draw as you keep skating together. It’s mostly the teenage girls whose stares linger the most, whispering to each other with hands over their hearts as if they’re deeming you both as the model relationship. It makes you feel flustered at least a hundred times, yet you can’t help feeling the same thing they are each and every time you look over at Frankie and meet his caring gaze.

They’ve kept the retractable ceiling above the rink open for the evening, and so once snow starts to fall gently from the sky, you get to watch it come down around you. Not feeling affected by the cold thanks to the warmth of your clothes and Frankie’s close presence, you don’t mind it at all, and he doesn’t seem to either. At one point, though, he does slow your skating to a stop, letting you both step to the side out of other people’s ways as you try to blink away a large snowflake that’s settled on your lashes. Frankie laughs softly as he gently reaches a gloved hand forward.

“I got it,” Frankie assures you, and his gloved thumb moves carefully to brush the snowflake away. But now, you’re both realizing how close you are to each other, the heat of each other’s breath warming your faces. Frankie’s hand settles onto your cheek and the other slips out of your grip to meet your other cheek. You watch his gaze drop down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, seeming to ask you if it’s okay to keep going. You reassure him with a warm smile and the same gesture, your gloved hands pressing against his chest for stability as you let him press his lips against yours.

The kiss is so soft and slow that it feels like you’re melting together in the same way the snowflakes start to melt on your warm cheeks, somehow so full of passion while simultaneously remaining gentle. For this moment, the rink and the people filling it disappear completely, and all you can conceive of is the man you’re drawing yourself even closer to. Frankie pulls away after what feels like so long yet somehow also doesn’t feel long enough, and the second his gaze meets yours again, you both smile wider than you think you ever have.

You swear you can feel gazes practically burning through you, so you look to the side and see the same group of teenage girls from before. They’re practically swooning at the sight of you, and you can’t help giggling with flustered cheeks as you look back up at Frankie. He raises his brow at you with another small smile.

“I think we’re drawing some attention,” you whisper to him, despite the fact that the girls are standing rather far off. Frankie follows your gaze as you look back to them, and they finally seem to notice as they duck away with gloved hands containing their laughter.

Frankie looks back to you with a soft chuckle, his hands moving from your cheeks to your hands as he takes both of them in his. “I guess we should go somewhere more private, then,” Frankie suggests, giving your hands a squeeze before he helps to guide you both off the ice. He keeps one of your hands in his as you walk back to the truck, him once again opening the door for you before he gets in on his side. Once you’re setting off to your home once again, you take his hand in yours, exchanging a smile with him. “I hope you had fun.”

“Of course I did,” you assure him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I mean, once I learned how to actually skate.”

Frankie chuckles. “You did great.”

You continue to make small talk until he pulls into your driveway, yet again being as chivalrous as possible as he opens the truck door for you and walks you up to your front step. Frankie stops once you’re there, taking both your hands in his again as he looks at you with nothing but pure admiration and warmth. You can’t stop yourself from leaning close to him and giving him a soft kiss, butterflies erupting at the natural way his mouth moves against yours. You pull away with eyes that you’re sure have just as much admiration as his.

“I hope this means we can have another date,” Frankie says, chuckling when you laugh at him.

“And many, many more,” you insist, giving his hands a squeeze. Frankie’s eyes brighten at your words. “All I can say is that I’m really glad my car broke down.”

Frankie laughs at that. “Yeah, but we’re gonna get that fixed for good, alright?” You nod at him, beaming when he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” you remark, and he gives your hands one last squeeze before he steps away. As he walks back to his truck, you call after him. “Text me when you get home!”

Frankie turns around and tips his hat on his head. “I was already planning on it!”

You bite back a smile and nod, turning around with a warm heart to let yourself into your home. You and Frankie spend the next few weeks seeing each other as much as possible, whether it be going to dinners out or just staying in at one of your homes—including one night spent at Frankie’s place watching the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special. That night, you end up accidentally falling asleep in his arms on the couch, and you wake up in the morning just to laugh along with Frankie. Thankfully, it’d been a Friday night, and neither one of you had work that morning.

On Thanksgiving—or, rather, Friendsgiving as you both called it—you’re with your group of friends but constantly hold a text conversation with Frankie. He tells you about the antics going on with his friends as you tell him about the way your friends are absolutely pelting you with questions about Frankie. You ask about dessert and he tells you that his friends definitely don’t know how to put desserts together, so with the permission of the friend who’s hosting, you invite Frankie over. He comes and draws the immediate attention of your friends, who openly admire him and his friendliness in a way that has your heart swelling with affection and happiness.

One of your favorite moments comes when you get to meet Frankie’s friends. You’ve been together for well over a month, now—though it practically feels like forever. Christmas is coming around the corner and Frankie tells you that his buddies are doing a little get-together and they’re very eager to meet you. You, of course, accept the invitation, and you soon find yourself with your hand tight in Frankie’s as you walk up to his friend Will’s house. Before you enter, Frankie stops you, giving you a soft yet serious look.

“I know I’ve told you this before, but they’re… a little much,” Frankie says with a laugh. “If it becomes too much, just let me know, okay? I’ll have them get off your back.”

“I can handle it,” you assure him, giving his cheek a kiss before you gesture towards the door. Frankie nods with a smile and moves to open it, knowing it won’t be locked as he does so. You’re both met with loud cheers and a blur of hugs and warm handshakes. You can already tell how the group acts like a little family, a thought that makes you smile as you continue holding Frankie’s hand and follow him into the living room.

Will hands you and Frankie a drink, and you cuddle a little closer into Frankie as he keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders. You see the guys giving each other looks upon seeing it, and you look up to Frankie with a giggle to see him simply shaking his head at you. They ask if it’s okay for them to practically just interview you, and you laugh as you agree and start answering their questions with honesty and grace.

“First kiss?” Benny asks, going on the countless round of questioning as his eyes glitter with mischief yet friendliness.

“While ice skating on the first date,” you answer, earning a dramatic aw from your “crowd” that has Frankie rolling his eyes.

“Fish’s best feature?” Will questions with eyes narrowed in focus.

“His eyes,” you say.

“Really?” Frankie asks, and you look up at him with a nod.

“Obviously,” you retort, watching his cheeks flush red and tapping his nose just to make it a little worse. He pushes your hand away playfully as you laugh and face the boys again.

“Fish’s worst feature?” Tom dares to ask.

“His lack of self-care,” you insist. When Frankie gives you an incredulous look, you shake your head up at him. “You need to care for yourself as much as you do for others, babe.”

Frankie simply shrugs in response, hiding yet another blush by sipping his beer. You snort and turn to face the group.

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve overwhelmed her enough,” Santiago insists, drawing a laugh from you as he moves to stand up. “I think it’s time for some of these gifts.”

Frankie tells you that they do a Secret Santa every year amidst the panic of you definitely having not brought anything, but you’re both surprised when Santiago hands a little wrapped box to you. They make you open it last, wanting to soak in your reaction as you do so. When you unwrap it and open the box, you can’t help the wide smile from taking over your features as you pick up a dog tag necklace.

“It’s engraved with Fish’s details from back in the day,” Santiago explains.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you say, but there’s so much warmth in your tone as you admire the sweet gift. You hand it to Frankie, who looks at it with just as much awe and admiration.

“Of course we did,” Will insists with a smile. “But don’t thank us just yet.”

You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”

Suddenly, there’s a quiet jingling sound from above your head, and you and Frankie look up simultaneously to see Benny standing over you with a mistletoe hanging from his hand. The group laughs as your realization sets in, and you both shake your heads before you lean in for a quick kiss that sends them into utter chaos. Benny walks back to where he’d previously been sitting and deals out high fives with the guys while you and Frankie just sit there and laugh at their dramatic reactions. By the end of the night, you truly feel like a part of their little family.

But your favorite moment of the winter comes on Christmas Day, when you’re having a little celebration with just Frankie at your place. You decided to spend it together, much rather having the comfort of each other rather than the panic of trying to get last-minute flights and time off to visit your families. You’re sitting on the couch in front of the small fireplace, watching as he unwraps some of the gifts you’ve given him—including the new, leather watch he instantly straps on his wrist. You can tell, though, that Frankie’s much more excited for you to open yours, and you go through a few nice things before reaching the last box. Frankie’s eyes are set completely on you as you open it, your lips parting in beautiful awe as you observe the silver necklace laying within. It’s a small snowflake with a diamond in its center, and when you look back up at Frankie, you can see the same glow of the diamond within his gaze.

“I know you have the necklace from the guys,” Frankie says, “but I saw that you put that on your car mirror instead, and I just—I really wanted to give you some sort of, you know, promise necklace, I guess. And I picked a snowflake because we met during the first snowfall of the season, and then our first kiss was because of the snowflake on your eye.” Frankie stops his rambling to search your gaze with a bit of concern. “I hope you like it.”

“I love it, Frankie,” you assure him in a hushed voice, thanks to your sudden emotion from the sweet gift. When you get lost in his gaze, you feel a bolder part of you emerge as you swallow hard. “Actually I… I think I love you.”

Frankie’s dark gaze glitters as brilliantly as you’ve ever seen it, and you watch his lips part in disbelief for a moment before he smiles wide at you. “I think I love you, too, baby.” With that, his hands reach for the sides of your face and pull it to his in a kiss more passionate than you’ve ever received from him. The heat radiating from both your beating hearts rivals that of the fire you sit in front of as your mouths move in perfect and graceful sync, your shared confessions being translated in this physical expression before you pull away with heavy breaths and wide smiles.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you pick up the box again, handing it to Frankie. “Can you put it on for me?” you ask, and Frankie nods earnestly as he takes the necklace out of the box and clips it in place around your neck. His touch lingers there for a moment, his fingertips brushing over the skin as his lips soon follow. Frankie leaves a few gentle kisses there that make your skin erupt into pleasant goosebumps, and instinctively you lean forward to give him more access. His arms settle on your middle as he pulls you closer to himself.

“You’ve given me a lot of great things today,” Frankie mumbles, his breath fanning over your neck as he does so, “but I think the greatest gift was the words you just spoke to me.”

You smile as you spin your head around as best as you can, reaching a hand back over your shoulder to hold his cheek. “I might be able to think of something a little better,” you hint in his same hushed tone, fingers dancing along the skin of his cheek as you try your best to bite back the growing smile.

Frankie’s gaze glitters with desire yet concern as he brushes some of the hair away from your face. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

You spin around to fully face him, straddling his lap as you rest your forehead against his. “I promise,” you begin, taking his hat and tossing it to the side so you can thread your fingers through his hair, “as long as you’re okay with it, I’m very much ready to prove what I said before.” You press a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. “That I love you, very much.”

Frankie finally gives in with a smile that melts against your lips, his hands gliding over your sides and making you warmer than any fire ever could. By the end of the night, you’re wrapped up in Frankie and the warm blankets atop the couch, donning nothing but the necklace he’d gifted you with a heart that’s fuller than glasses of eggnog left untouched on the coffee table.

Before you know it, New Year’s Eve rolls around, and you and Frankie are spending it at a lively bar with the boys—though all your attention’s solely focused on each other. The countdown begins when you each get a glass of champagne in your hands, but not without Frankie murmuring something about oh, so fancy! that makes you laugh into the button-up covering his chest. You join in with the crowd as you look up to the TV that shows the glowing ball in Times Square, counting down each second until the clock strikes midnight. There’s a joyous cheer that’s drowned out the moment you and Frankie share a kiss, pulling away to press your nose against his with a smile.

“Happy New Year, my love,” you say in a breath barely breathed, your smile growing as you watch his dark eyes sparkle in that favorite manner of yours.

“Happy New Year, baby,” Frankie responds before he captures your lips with his again, seeming to completely forget your surroundings—but so do you.

By the time the snow starts melting away that winter and the buds of flowers start to peek out, you and Frankie are moving into a townhouse of your own. You’re about to reach for another box when you watch birds soaring above, returning back from their winter homes. You look to Frankie who’s just joined you at your side, watching as he tries to find the source of the look of wonder in your eyes. “I can’t believe the winter’s over already,” you confess. “I don’t even remember it being cold for that long.”

Frankie chuckles softly, wrapping you into a warm embrace and placing a kiss on top of your head. “That’s because spending the winter together made it feel much warmer,” he insists, pulling away from the hug to instead watch you roll your eyes at his cheesiness and join him in a sweet kiss.

And as cheesy as the words might’ve been, you know there’s truth to them—and you know that winter’s bound to be your favorite season, now, thanks to Frankie.

series parts: summer, fall, winter

permanent tag list: @mikahidalgo @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann @javier-djarin @nettyklecan @mistermiraclee @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @smellssharpies @catfishingmorales @badassbaker @wille-zarr @kaetastic @saltywintersoldat @agentpike @mrsparknuts @readsalot73​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @mandhoelorian @lilangeldevil006 @cyaredindjarin @roxypeanut @phoenixhalliwell @hail-doodles @randomness501 @this-cat-is-dea @hopplessdreamer​

seasons with frankie tag list: @abuttoncalledsmalls @agirllovespasta @kindablackenedsuperhero @iellaren-uodo-rian @havenforafrazzledmind

frankie morales tag list: @themandadlorian @chibi-liz05

[thessalian]

Thess vs Co-Worker Issues

So fun times at work today.

We had all the typists in finally, so that backlog largely vanished. However, I noticed that yet again, Temp had taken the wodge of shorter, easier bits of typing and left the longer, fiddlier bits for me. Now, the reason I know damn well she did that is because we’re supposed to type this shit in chronological order and yet somehow there was a wodge of longer, fiddlier typing that our transcription system logged as having been downloaded around the 9-10am mark, and then everything else was 12:15pm or later. I checked her queue, just as a matter of curiosity (because that is permitted on our system) and what do you know? Everything in there was downloaded after 10am, and none of it hit the two minute mark.

She has a thing, y’see, where she “just doesn’t feel productive” unless she’s rattling out lots of reports. So she doesn’t like doing the ones that slow her down. I don’t like it either. More to the point, given the chronic pain situation, I actually cope a lot better with short ones because the pause between cases imposes sufficient micro-breaks to get me through a day. Getting stuck with all the fiddly shit doesn’t do that. So while obviously I’ll do my share because it’s a part of my fucking job, and I at least would feel guilty for sticking people with all of the long, difficult-to-parse typing ... I don’t want to be stuck with all of the long, difficult-to-parse typing.

So by around about 1:30, when I see yet another one of the really long fiddly ones that I knew people were going to leave for me to type by just leaving it in the queue and trust the fact that I at least have some concern for chronological order, I’m a little bit fed up. This has been going on for quite some time, and I’d about had enough. However, I did want to at least try to keep it civil and not be accusatory. So the first thing I did was go up to the other two full-time typists - the problem children, honestly - and ask, politely, “There’s one by [That One Guy] in the queue and I was wondering if I could ask one of you to type that one? I’ve done like three of his today and I really can’t take another one”. One was really nice about it and said, “Yeah, sure; I’ll get that one”. Temp, on the other hand, got defensive. “Yeah, when I’m done typing all mine; I mean, I do type his...” You know. Entirely on the defensive. I didn’t say anything about what she did or did not do; I just checked if it was okay to leave it for someone else.

I didn’t even say it in a “Y’know, the way you don’t check with me” way! Just in a “I’m sorry to ask this but I really just need a break from him” sort of way. So ... y’know ... that got me raising an eyebrow.

So, politely, I decided to push it. “Actually, I was meaning to ask; I know I was always told we take the typing in chronological order but I’ve noticed that there’s gaps where stuff’s been taken out of chronological order. I just wondered if we knew what was going on with that.”

What I got, pretty much verbatim, and in the most dismissive-defensive tone possible, was “Don’t think about it; it’ll get done, don’t worry”. Subtext: “I just want it to keep on as is so stop questioning it and let it happen”.

There was no earthly way I was going to keep it non-confrontational at that point so I just said, “Okaaaay...” and headed for the break room for some coffee. And also to have some privacy to roll my eyes so hard I think I sprained something.

Thing Temp didn’t consider: all that happened within earshot of Scruffman, the office manager. So when I returned to my desk, I found two things:

the typing from [That One Guy] was no longer in the main queue

an email from Scruffman saying, “Yeah, I’m going to have a word with [Temp] about that later; that was rude”.

So ... I mean, I tried really hard to keep it at a polite, “Look, I noticed this thing and I’m not hugely happy about it but I’m flagging it up quietly so we don’t have to turn this contentious or make it a problem”. But no, she got tetchy, so instead it turned into “Office Manager Gets Involved”. I mean, I was really trying to avoid “Office Manager Gets Involved” but I guess at least this way I don’t have to actually take it to him in a “her word against mine” sort of way...

[coccinelle-et-chaton]

*slips you a twenty*

Hey kid wanna read some lit fanfics? 

I just updated my blog with a link to all my AO3 works

Also...... Chapter 8 of The Wall Between Us is up and it’d be cool if you read it or whatever, a bunch of us are gonna be there, we’re gonna cry and order pizza and suffer for the love square it’s gonna be cool 

Read Chapter 8 on AO3 Start from the beginning here

Or on this post below the cut! 

The Wall Between Us 

Summary: Marinette is left to pick up the pieces after losing her chance with Adrien and having Master Fu give up his memories to protect the Miraculous Box. She struggles to find her ground as the new Guardian, and finds unexpected support in Luka Couffaine. Simultaneously, Adrien is learning how to navigate his emotions and slowly growing into his role as future co-guardian, and in the process realizes important truths about his feelings for Kagami, Marinette, and Ladybug. When Ladybug tells Chat Noir that as the Guardian, she is okay with not only revealing their identities but also entrusting her secret to close friends of hers, things become unequivocally complicated for the superhero duo. Will Marinette and Adrien be able to sort through their feelings and do what’s best for the Miraculous team?

Chapter 8

By the time Gabriel and Natalie had returned from their business trip to Seoul–and really, Adrien wasn’t even sure they had been gone at all due to the fact Akumas were aplenty during their absence– he had already extracted a good volume of information to make a case for his suspicions.

He hadn’t found the evidence he needed to prove that his father was indeed Hawkmoth, but instead he had found years of badly-filed fiscal reports, personnel that had been hired and fired under very mysterious conditions, some sort of project for the mansion that his father paid millions for which Adrien had never seen, and the one that irked him the most: audits from France’s Child Protection Services, fines, and ‘cease and desist’ letters warning Gabriel that he was putting Adrien under too many work hours.

That, he discovered, was the real reason why Adrien had been allowed to go to school in the first place. It wasn’t that Natalie had made him a favor: They enrolled him so that Child Protection Services would get off the brand’s neck for forcing Adrien on a part-time job when he wasn’t even sixteen yet.

All of Adrien’s findings were pretty incriminatory, not to mention infuriating, but none were exactly what he was looking for. And yet, it was one of those things that once you have considered, you cannot help but keep seeing.

“Adrien, would you like to explain to me why you have been missing your extracurricular activities for the past two weeks?” Natalie said with a stern voice one morning, as Adrien meticulously chewed on his oatmeal breakfast.

The fiery urgency to flip a table, which had taken a hold of him lately any time Natalie or his father addressed him, surged like a geyser.

“I just didn’t feel like attending,” he said politely, without looking up.

Natalie was taken aback by his answer. “Excuse me?”

Adrien looked up this time. “I didn’t feel like attending,” he repeated. “You weren’t here, and I just didn’t feel like going.”

“You know if you start doing poorly, your father will have you homeschooled again and–”

“And what? He’s gonna lock me up again? Is that it? Wouldn’t people start asking questions?” he demanded.

Natalie blinked, completely caught off guard by Adrien’s sudden rudeness. “This is no way to be talking to your–”

“My what? My dad’s assistant? You’re not my babysitter, not my teacher, and certainly not my mother. I can do whatever I want.”

Natalie composed herself and marched swiftly out of the dining room.

“Kid, what the hell?” Plagg hissed from inside his shirt. “That’s a dumb way to get caught.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered back. “I’m just… I’m so angry at them! I can’t stop thinking about all this stuff that I found, and just… the idea of them being–well, you know who. It’s making me see in red.”

He marched to the patio and went into his car, where, to his surprise, he found he’d be sharing a ride with his father.

He felt Plagg jabbing his little paws at him as if to say, “I told you so.”

“F-father. Good morning.”

“Drive, George,” Gabriel instructed. After a silence, he spoke again without looking at Adrien. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Disrespecting Natalie like that, blatantly disregarding your responsibilities, and giving the brand bad publicity.”

He threw a newspaper at Adrien’s lap. It was from a few days ago. Apparently his sudden outburst at the crowd of harassers in the skate park had made it into the news.

“I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to give you this much freedom.”

Adrien gulped, shuddering with sudden terror.

“Perhaps it will be better if you go back to being tutored at home. Or even better, I’ll send you to a boarding school where I don’t have to deal with your carelessness anymore.”

Adrien gasped. “Please… please don’t. Don’t send me away.”

“You’re not feeling so brave and boldened now, are you? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Adrien didn’t move. He didn’t dare speak, breathe, blink.

The car had stopped already, they were at the steps of the school. His friends were all hanging at the entrance and had spotted him.

“Your lack of words doesn’t surprise me. You’re just a naive, spoiled little boy who can’t begin to understand the sacrifices I make for this family… You’re dismissed.”

Adrien opened the door, not yet getting off the car.

“Are you going to take me off school?”

“No. Take it as a gesture of good will, and a warning. Stay. In. Line.”

“I-if you send me away, people will start wondering what happened,” he said with a small voice. “They’ll ask questions.”

“And what sort of questions would those be, son?”

At Adrien’s silence, Gabriel sighed. “Close the door. Have a good day.”

He got up and stood in front of the car, breathing deeply so as to not give into the urge to cry.

“I can’t wait to be eighteen to get away from you,” he said and smashed the door close as hard as he could, then sprinted into the school building, afraid that Gabriel might order George to stick him back in the car.

Regrettably, all his friends, Marinette included, saw the display unfold.

It was Nino the one who ran after him.

“Hey, dude, everything alright?” Nino said, as he caught up with him in the locker room.

“Hey Nino, good morning!” he chirped with sunny disposition.

The sudden contrast between what he had seen at the school entrance and then, gave Nino whiplash.

“Erm. Yes, good morning. Don’t ignore my question.”

“Nothing happened,” he said shrugging. “Come on, we’ll be late for—”

Nino yanked the strip from his messenger bag and forced him to stop. “Cut the crap, Adrien. I saw. Is everything alright?”

Adrien’s mask of optimism wavered, but he fought hard to keep it in place. “Yes, Nino. Everything’s alright. I promise.”

Nino sighed, not impressed. “Okay, if you say so.”

As they went into the classroom, Adrien saw from the corner of his eye how Nino shook his head discreetly at the girls. He had been right not to tell him. He knew those two would also want to know what happened. He didn’t want to cause hysteria. However, a more pressing thought occupied his mind for the rest of the day.

Given his regrettable display of temper, and though his father said he wouldn’t pull him out of school, Adrien knew not to trust it. One could never anticipate what his father would do just to stay in control. It worried him that he may have crossed a line that would be difficult to come back from. His father might increase his security, might actually pull him out of school. Not ideal, if his hunch was actually right.

He had to tell Ladybug what he knew as fast as possible.

On the lunch break, he excused himself to the bathroom, taking the burner phone with him to send Ladybug a message:

I DECIDED I’M READY TO REVEAL MY IDENTITY. SOMETHING CAME UP. DON’T WORRY, I’M NOT IN DANGER. BUT WOULD IT BE OKAY IF WE MEET AT THE HANG OUT TODAY? PLEASE WRITE ME BACK AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS.

He kept inconspicuously checking the burner phone for the rest of the day, getting no answer from Ladybug whatsoever. It made him restless. What if she was in danger?

No, she couldn’t be. There would have been an Akuma attack or something.

Still, he was worried, and he knew he couldn’t afford to go back home that day without having told Ladybug about his suspicions, so he resolved to drop by the hang-out anyway later that day. Natalie and George would pick him up after fencing, which gave him enough time to swing there and come back.

It only occurred to him that this might not be the greatest idea once he found himself sans transformation, standing at the door of the hide-out.

What if she wasn’t there today? What if she’s shocked by learning who he is?

He shook his head. No. This was an emergency. He had to do it now, so he ringed the bell.

He texted: LB DID YOU GET MY MESSAGE?

Almost immediately, he got a text back: YES :) I AM HERE. WAIT A SEC. WILL OPEN THE DOOR SOON.

His heartbeat so fast he could hear his pulse. He was short of breath and felt as if his knees would buckle under him at any second.

He heard some voices, then someone approaching to open the door.

Adrien felt temped to open it himself just get over the painful anticipation. The seconds extended for an eternity.

And then, all of a sudden, he was greeted with a most confused Alya Cesaire.

“Alya?”

She crumpled her face, perplexed. “Adrien? What are you doing–”

From inside the house, Adrien distinctly heard the voice of none other than Marinette. “Alya? Is that him?”

It took him a fraction of a second to figure out something that had taken him two–almost three now– years to realize. It felt as if time had stopped and then abruptly resumed, pushing him into a turbulent shore of angry waves.

All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe, impossible to buoy to the surface for a gasp of air. His voice caught up in his throat.

He figured it out.

“Alya?” Marinette repeated from inside the house as Alya stood petrified in front of Adrien, realizing exactly who he was.

“Don’t–” he said gasping. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded and then darted away as fast as he could possibly run, only stopping when the tears completely blurred his vision.

Back at the house, Marinette was trembling from the utter anticipation. She had requested that Alya come with her to meet Chat. She wasn’t sure she could take it by herself and she needed someone for moral support.

The seconds of wait stringed into whole minutes of silence and Marinette forced herself to march to the front of the house, where Alya was still clinging to the frame.

She was… were those tears? Was she crying?

“Alya?” she asked with trepidation. “What happened?”

“Chat— Oh, Marinette!” She gasped. “Chat was here. He was–he wasn’t transformed.”

Dread came over Marinette’s expression. “Where is he?” she insisted urgently, “What happened?”

“He– he’s gone. Mari, you need to talk to him. You–we… we know him.”

She blinked, too shocked to let fear take ahold of her. “What? Who is he?”

Alya shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” Marinette demanded.

“Marinette, I can’t tell you. You’ll never forgive me if I do… Just… You have to go talk to him, Mari.”

Marinette sprinted outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘someone she knew’, but it was the beginning of rush hour and the streets flooded with commuters, anonymizing everyone. She called and called and called him. Left him voice mail after voice mail, message after message:

CHAT NOIR PLEASE PICK UP! I’M WORRIED, PLEASE!

CHAT.

CHAT PLEASE.

ALYA SAYS YOU KNOW HER, SO MAYBE YOU ALSO KNOW ME... I’M SORRY IF YOU’RE DISAPPOINTED IT’S ME. CAN WE PLEASE JUST TALK?

MINOU. PLEASE. TALK TO ME.

CHAT NOIR, I KNOW YOU’RE MAD. PLEASE, JUST… PLEASE PICK UP.

Chat Noir did not pick up the phone and Marinette, well, Marinette had not been this brokenhearted since Adrien had started dating Kagami, and that was saying something.

Adrien didn’t sleep that night. He hadn’t cried this much since he lost his mother, hadn’t felt this much either.

He never was one to give into negative emotions, but when they got the best of him, they pulled him deep into an abyss that was hard to crawl out of. If any butterflies came flying his way, he wouldn’t have known. Plagg kept guard the entire night.

“I can’t do this anymore, Plagg,” he confessed. “I can’t–I can’t be Chat Noir anymore. It hurts too much.”

“Kid don’t say things like that,” said Plagg as Adrien sobbed. “I’m sure there’s a way to fix this.”

“She loves someone else,” he cried. “I can’t… She’ll never love me, Plagg. It doesn’t matter if I wear the mask or not.”

“That’s not true,” Plagg said, fetching the burner phone. “Look at how worried that poor thing is for you.”

Adrien kept crying. “She doesn’t love me the way I love her. I won’t stand in her way.”

The next morning, Adrien had to put on very little effort to act indisposed for school. He hadn’t come down with anything, but he felt sick. At one point during the night, he had been so caught up in his crisis that he ended up emptying his stomach. In the morning he had woken up from the few hours of sleep he managed to clock in with an insulting headache and even worse nausea than before.

He called in sick and remitted to his room for the next couple days.

It was funny. He never remembered feeling safe or at home in his room. It was too big, too cold for him and somehow at the same time, too small, too stuffy. It was as if his dad had tried to fit in the entire world inside it in the hopes that he’d never want to see the real thing himself.

It wasn’t comfort what made him feel like he belonged there. It was the fact that for once, his surroundings completely matched his state of mind. This is how he felt: as empty and grey as the mansion had been since his mother disappeared, as much of a prisoner as his father intended for him to be.

He groaned at the sound of his civilian phone chiming non-stop with messages from Nino asking if his father had done something to him, Marinette offering him any help if he needed it–these were the ones that hurt him the most to read–, and finally, Alya, who was not sending messages so much as entire monologues begging him to answer at least Ladybug.

He turned off both his civilian phone and the one for Ladybug, hoping there would be no Akumas while he was in this state.

With Chat gone, Marinette regressed into the sort of grief that shut her down when she became the Guardian. She didn’t stop showing up to school, mainly at Alya’s pressing insistence, but it was evident to the class that something was going on with her again.

A few of her more curious friends and acquaintances ask her if everything’s alright with Luka, which only added  to her mortification. She hadn’t been herself these past days and she wasn’t exactly sure she’d be able to explain to Luka why she was so brokenhearted without giving her identity away; why Chat’s sudden rejection was way more painful than anything she ever had to go through. So, against her better judgement, she decided to ignore him for a couple days, at least until she was able to sort her head through the situation.

The truth is Chat’s disappearance–not only this one but every time he’s been convinced he’s not cut out to be her partner–hurled her into a spiral of helplessness not just because she couldn’t fathom doing this without him. There was another reason, one she always purposefully ignored.

It’s like she had told Alya: She had feelings for Chat Noir. It had become easier to ignore them with time, and especially when she could just invest all of her romantic attention on Adrien before Luka came around. But the thing with being in love with Adrien is that she was in love with the idea of him. The idea of being together if she could only one day bring herself to tell him. He was an outlet of sorts–more often than Marinette liked to admit out loud– to feelings she could never show, as they were forbidden.

The second reason why Marinette always fell into despair when Chat Noir surrendered or try to surrender his ring, was because she actually loved him. If she was honest, completely, absolutely honest, she loved him. But she could never tell him, it was Master Fu’s orders not to get involved with him, not to reveal their identities. She maneuvered through those restrictions by effectively fooling herself into believing that one day, in the far future when Hawkmoth was defeated and the stakes wouldn’t be so high, she’d tell him and then everything would be okay. She’d tell him the way you admit to a school crush on one of those high school reunions or unlikely encounters as adults.

Chat surrendering his ring always cut that fantasy short.

What is worse, Marinette realized, was that this time she wasn’t using the idea of someone to distract herself from the way she felt. She was using Luka. Luka, who has been nothing but supportive and absolutely selfless. Luka, who loved her, who didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Marinette cried in part because this was Chat being typical Chat. But also, because she realized she would eventually need to let go of Luka, and she didn’t want to do that, no matter how wrong it was to keep him to herself. Maybe she just needed to try harder, maybe she just needed to shut down the idea of Chat as she had done before.

The problem was that ignoring him was impossible in this circumstance. Ladybug was about to lose her Cat for good.

“Mari,” Alya said softly as she rubbed her friend’s back as Marinette sprawled over her lap. They were in Marinette’s room. “I think he was just shocked. He’ll come around.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” she asked desperately. “I can’t do this without him, Alya. You-you wouldn’t understand. I can’t explain it… I just can’t do it if he’s not there.”

Alya gave her a pained smile.

Oh, this was all so rotten, Alya thought. And Marinette didn’t even know the beginning of it. Alya found herself wondering what would have happened if they had actually revealed their identities before things got complicated off and on the hero costume. It probably would have saved everyone a whole lot deal of pain.

“He will,” she reassured him. “Trust me, he will.”

Alya gave it a few days. But when the end of a week arrived and there was still no sign of Adrien, she decided she probably overestimated him. Nino was mad at him for virtually disappearing, Marinette was growing worried that something had happened to him, not to mention that his disappearance as Chat Noir was truly causing a number on her.

So, she did what she did best: take action.

She asked her teachers for Adrien’s homework worksheets and on she went Friday after school to confront what would be very possibly a mess even bigger than Marinette’s.

She sighed, rang at the gate of the Agrestes’ mansion and waited for the camera to activate.

“Yes?”

“Hello, Miss Sancoeur. I’m Alya, I’m in Adrien’s class. I’m here to give him his work for the week he missed.”

“Deposit it on the bin, please,” Natalie said, as an automated door slid open. to receive the packet of books.

“Actually, I was hoping I could see him? There’s a few things that our Social Studies teacher asked me to explain to him about a specific assignment,” she said, beaming.

“Adrien has come down with a bad case of the flu, I am sure it wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“Don’t worry ma’am. I got all my shots up to date.”

Natalie sighed and after a few minutes of deliberation, the gates opened. She met Alya at the front door and directed her to the floor where Adrien’s room was. “Down the hall, first door to the right,” she instructed. “I have to warn you. Adrien has specifically requested not to receive visitors.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll make an exception,” she said with determination in her eyes. “Thanks!” Alya flashed her a smile and once Natalie had returned to her office, proceeded to barge into Adrien’s room.

The blinds were all drawn, only letting in slivers of light. The air was stuffy, like no one had opened the windows in a good while. It also smelled disgustingly of spoiled cheese.

There were clothes and dishes and all kinds of things lying everywhere. Alya did not remember Adrien ever being this messy.

Both the three displays of his computer and the television were on with different shows each, mixing the occasional strands of yellow light from the windows with the morbid blue of the screens.

A lump, which she supposed was the culprit himself, lay buried in a mountain of blankets and pillows. It seemed he hadn’t noticed her–or in the very least, he didn’t care someone had entered the room.

“That’s it!” Alya announced, dropping her school bag unceremoniously as she huffed and puffed making way through the catastrophe of a room he had, to draw the curtains back and open the windows letting in fresh air and the sounds of the city. She then proceeded to turn off every screen and to yank, almost with unnecessary force, the blankets off of Adrien.

“What?” Adrien groaned.

“That’s it!” Alya said. “Get up. Get up this instant or so help me god, I’m going to toss you directly into your bathtub, clothes still on.”

“Alya?” He seemed confused. ��What are you doing here?”

She proceeded to make piles of the different kinds of trash to make it easier to bag them later, and discarded plates and cups as she gagged at the smell.

“Seriously, what is that stench?”

“Camembert,” he explained, not finding it in himself to feel ashamed. “For my Kwami. He doesn’t eat anything else.”

Alya eyed him with disbelief and shook her head. “What are you doing there, just looking? Go take a shower!”

“But–”

“Go. Take. A. Shower. Adrien Agreste.”

A little afraid to continue questioning her, Adrien made his way to the bathroom and emerged a good twenty minutes later still in pajamas. Fresh ones at that, but still.

“You live like a pig,” Alya berated him as she took a seat in the couch in front of the television.

“I’m not– why are you here? Did you just come in to criticize me?” Adrien complained, joining her.

“First of all, no. I came in to make sure you were still alive, seeing as you decided to literally disappear off the face of this earth telling absolutely nobody. Nino is livid, by the way. Will love to see how you explain yourself out of that one. Oh, and there’s been Akumas, not that you’d even get the memo in this bunker, so I had to pitch in as Rena. You’re welcome.”

Adrien looked down.

“Second. I knew. I knew you were going to do this; lock yourself up here and wallow in your self-pity. And I knew somebody needed to come here to make you snap out of it,” she said, giving him a gentle slap on his head.

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?” Alya demanded. Being met with silence, she nodded. “My point exactly.”

“Third,” she continued. “You think you have it bad? Try being Marinette for a little bit and have your oh-so-trusted partner of years now, suddenly bail on you with no explanation after realizing who she is. How could that possibly look to her, huh?”

“Marinette?” he said softly. “Is… is she alright? I didn’t mean to–”

“Shush. Don’t interrupt, I'll see that you get your chance to apologize to her, don't you worry your pretty face. Fourth. You sir,” she said poking her index finger at his chest. “Need to put on your big-boy pants and deal with your shit like the superhero you are.”

“And fifth,” she said, the fire in her eyes lightly subduing. “There’s homework,” she said pointing at her bag. “I brought it for you.”

Adrien became small in his seat as he took in Alya’s numbered series of complaints. Meanwhile, Plagg came out of hiding, knowing Alya already knew of his and Ladybug's identity.

“I like the way this one talks,” he said, munching a piece of cheese. “Finally, someone with some goddamn common sense!”

“You’re… Plagg?” Alya said.

“Have we met?” Plagg retorted. “Ah yes, Marinette’s friend on the door the other day. Of course. Either way, you have to know. I would’ve kicked him off the bed myself but well, I’m the size of a tennis ball.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Adrien said quietly, gaining the attention of the pair. “I know… I know I keep messing things up. Which is precisely why I’m not going to be Chat Noir anymore.”

“What?” Alya said, widening her eyes.

Adrien brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on top of them. “I just make everything worse,” he explained. “I keep messing up. And I… I know she used to have a crush on me, as Adrien. I don’t want to get in the way of her and Luka…”

“Adrien,” Alya said softly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but for such a smart guy, you’re pretty darn stupid sometimes.”

Adrien couldn’t help the sudden chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Why on earth do you think that would be a good idea? Have we not met the same Marinette, or, Ladybug in this case? For a reason that’s entirely beyond me, the girl crumbles if you’re not the one to help her up. It’s like… like she wouldn’t believe anything unless it comes from you. You should have seen the certified dumpster fire the last Akuma was. We were all over the place without you.”

Tears fell down his cheeks, and in that moment, Alya knew to knock down her tough-love strategy down a notch. Yes, this was Chat Noir. But it was also Adrien, and while Chat may react to confrontation, Adrien would do anything but.

She clicked her teeth. “Oh, Sunshine. Don’t cry,” she said as she pulled Adrien into a hug.

“I don’t think I can do it, Alya… I’ll make everything worse.”

“You keep saying that, Adrien. But why?”

“I–I think I know who Hawkmoth is,” he admitted in the quietest possible murmur, followed by a sob.

“What…? Adrien, look at me. What do you mean you know who Hawkmoth is?” she said, eyes wide with concentration.

“I figured it out,” he said, hiccupping as he tried to stop crying. “That’s why I went to the hide-out that day. I wasn’t ready to reveal my identity, but I had been stupid with my dad and I thought he might pull me out of school so I knew I had to tell her what I knew before my dad could lock me up or send me away. The first time she took me to the hide-out, I was browsing through some of the documents… Then I found this, this scanned page about the Peacock Miraculous from one of the grimoires and I knew I recognized it from somewhere.” He looked up with an ominous look. “My dad,” he explained. “He has this safe that I once broke into out of curiosity. And he had the missing grimoire in the set and also the brooch. I snuck in his office to investigate and they weren’t in the safe anymore. Then, I found all these documents… he’s been spending money in weird ways, making orders to companies that don’t exist… If he’s Hawkmoth and Natalie is Mayura… that’s–that’s why I had to tell Ladybug. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she found out who I was and thought that I was part of it all. Alya I’m so scared… I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she said softly. “And why didn’t you stick around to tell her that?”

“Because I’ve been in love with her since I met her, okay? I panicked,” he said, now a bit more exasperated. “You– I don’t think you and Nino know what it’s like, it all came so easy to you. But for me… It was so hard to get over her as Ladybug, then realizing that I was really in love with Marinette, and now–”

“Wait, you’re in love with Marinette?” Alya interrupted, jaw on the floor.

“Did Nino not tell you?”

“No! We don’t gossip about what you guys tell us!… I mean, unless it's really important, but that's besides the point! Holy shit, this is so complicated,” she said with a long sigh, plopping her back against the couch. She groaned as she processed the information. “Why are you two like this?” she exclaimed, rubbing her face in frustration. “Okay, but about your whole theory,” she said, once she recovered. “I think that doesn’t prove much, Adrien. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

Adrien shook his head. “I know what I saw, Alya. He had the Peacock Miraculous.”

“But that could mean anything. It could be a replica; I’ve read a lot of studies tracking the history of each jewel. People have tried replicating them to scam others.”

“It’s Natalie, Alya,” Adrien said with less patience. “Natalie is Mayura,” he said. “I just know it…” He sighed. “I don’t know how to tell Marinette. I don’t want to make things complicated for her.”

Alya thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I got it. What you have right now is a lead, at best. We need to come up with a plan to prove your theories. And Marinette doesn’t need to know how you found it. I didn’t tell her that it was you at the door that day, so really, you could just tell her there’s reason to believe that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth. You tell her your sources is someone close to the Agrestes.”

“What if she asks who the specific source is?”

“We’ll get to that bridge when we cross it.”

“Half-baked plans don’t work on Ladybug,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Perhaps. But she won’t press if she knows your identity is at stake. And for what it’s worth, Adrien, I really do think you should just come clean. About your identity, I mean. It would make everything easier for both of you. I know it must be super scary but... At least promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

-- “Well, you look like shit,” Juleka commented a bit amused as Luka joined for breakfast before school. He hadn’t been sleeping well and it showed. He simply gave Juleka a ‘I’m not in the mood to fuck around’ smile and begrudgingly served himself a bowl of cereal.

“What is it?” Juleka insisted.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, Jules.”

“It’s Marinette, isn’t it?” she asked, sounding more like she already had an answer.

Luka sighed and said nothing.

“She’s still not answering your messages?”

Luka shook his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing, probably.”

Luka looked up at his sister, who shrugged at him. “Alya says there’s something going on with her family or something, and she’s really having a hard time with it. It’s probably only that.”

Luka appreciated the fact Juleka tried to cheer him up, but he already knew Marinette wasn’t answering because of family trouble. It had been no secret that Chat Noir had been absent in the last few Akumas. Coincidentally, Juleka had mentioned Adrien had been missing school the last few days, so he knew something must have happened between them. Maybe a fight, it was anyone’s guess. The only thing he knew is that he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand that he couldn’t do anything about it, that Marinette wouldn’t actually tell him why she was hiding–to be honest, he also was unsure he even wanted to know. The prospect of her crying to him for a guy who has broken her heart not once, but twice now, did not appeal to him in the slightest bit.

Adrien Agreste was so stupid! He was an idiot! And yet, Luka couldn’t help but wonder if Marinette would ever cry for him like that, even if the last thing he’d ever want to do was to hurt Marinette the same way Adrien had. If she’d ever trust him as blindly as she trusted Chat Noir or love him just the same.

He sighed, trying to push the thought away. Lately, he had run out of strategies to keep his jealousy at bay and so, defeated, he simply tried to ignore his feelings as best as he could, not knowing what else to do. Giving into the feeling made him think horrible things about Adrien, which he was sure weren’t true. Confronting them brought up a proposition that made him break a cold sweat, which although extremely painful, had begun to make a case for itself. It was something he didn’t want to do, but that he suspected would be the best for both of them in the end:

Break up with Marinette.

[sylph-feather]

it has been a while since i have shared something cursed about myself so i think something you all should know is that my hands and feet are constantly, horribly, inexplicably cold. one time i went to the science center and it had a thermal display and my hands were lower than room temp for no godforsaken reason and i believe they are like this all the time.

To be clear it’s not really a worry for me, they don’t hurt. I just use them as a torture device on other people by making them believe I’m the clammy embrace of death or whatever

[whumpbby]

Hi! So this is kind of a random ask, but I know you have beta fish, and I’m considering getting one. I’ve had beta fish in the past, and despite educating myself on how to take care of them they haven’t lived very long, so I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me. For my past beta fish, I keep them in a five gallon tank (for clarification, I never had more than one beta fish at a time. So I didn’t have multiple of them in the tank don’t worry—they just all lived at different times in the same tank) that had a filter with a pretty low flow on it. I never saw any of the fish have problems swimming with it on. I always used a highly rated water purifying product for the tank water (I forgot what it’s actually called) and I never had any sharp plants that would hurt their fins. I fed them a little every two days because I heard that feeding them everyday was bad for them. Do you happen to know what I was doing wrong? It was frustrating for me because I put a lot of effort into keeping them alive and healthy and then I would see people who kept them in small half gallon bowls have their fish outlive mine. It’s been a couple years, and I want to get another, but I don’t want to accident hurt/kill another one. How do you care for your beta fish? Do you have any advice? Sorry about the rant, but I follow you for your Jason content and happened to stumble upon some of you fish posts and need help. Thanks so much for reading this, and if you do end up offering any advice, I want to thank you for that too!

Hi dear, sorry if I took long to answer - tumblr notoriously does not inform me of messages>> 

I understand your pain - especially that the situation with bettas is very frustrating. They tend to suffer from quite a few genetic defects (they are prone to tumours, for example) and are a very abused fish in the aquatic industry.  Oftentimes by the time they will get to a caring and dedicated owner, they’ve already went through a lot:0 We just don’t know how healthy the fish is before we got it. 

I am by no means an expert, I have lost a few babies since I started the hobby a couple years ago and I can only assume what a few of them suffered from:( One thing that seems to work is leaving them and the tank alone for as long as you can once it’s all set up and cycled and running - apart form the regular maintenance. I am a chronic fiddler who needs to change and add plants, filters, etc, so I constantly have to hold myself back form doing things to the tank. My sister has the same betta for a second year now and the only thing she does with her tank is water changes once every couple weeks - and both him and a thousand of cherry shrimp that live there thriveXD 

Some things I nowadays pay attention to that may be useful, however, are:

- water temp has to be consistent, on the warmer side. I keep mine at 26-27C (I don’t know how much that is in F, sorry>>). To that effect the tank needs a lid - it will trap the warm air, protecting the betta form inhaling cold air then they come up for a breath. They labyrinth breathing organ is quite sensitive to that.

- I feed my boys twice a day, so I am not a part of the ‘feed them little’ club. I give them a little pinch of the good flake in the morning (Bug Bites is nice) and a 3-4 granules of a King Betta or a pinch of a protein-rich micro pellets in the evening. A betta breeder I talked to a couple times advised that it’s better to feed the boys a couple times a day in small quantities rather than once - keeps their digestive tracts working and they can avoid constipation. Constipation happens often with bettas and is a headache to solve. I leave frozen bloodworms for special occasions and just rotate the dry foods for variety.  

- I change water every week - and every other week make sure to vacuum gravel the substrate. In the planted tanks I vacuum only about 2-3cm of the top layer to not disturb planting substrate below and not to suck up any shrimp, so it’s a gentle operation. In the gravel where there is no growing substrate I go deep - the reason being that I want to free any possible air bubbles stuck underneath where bad bacteria may grow. 

- Pick a filter and stick to it. I was very bad at that, but I finally managed to hotwire a combo that seems to work so I will stick to it;) If you can stand the noise, I advise a sponge filter - it’s so easy to clean and manageTT If you can’t stand the hum of the air pump and the bubbles, I recommend a matten filter - or hotwiring an internal filter to a sponge filter - like so - instruction in German, but the visuals are very self-explanatory;] I used gel superglue to connect the filterhead to a sponge filter and now all I have to do once a month or rarer is to pull the sponge off and squeeze it few times in the used tank water! And sometimes clean the showerhead from algae;] It saves you so much money on the cartridges (corner sponge filters are a couple £/$ and last years) and provides extra filtration. My shrimps also eat off it;] 

- get a snail. Seriously, I have a snail in every tank - a single nerite will do best for a 5gal. They don’t breed in sweet water, don’t grow large and will keep your glass clean for you - I have not cleaned my tanks’ glass since... ever>> Joe I and Joe II do it for meXD They also provide company for the betta and something fun to look at. And he will scarf uneaten food form the gravel. 

- I assume you know about the nitrogen cycle, so I will not bore you here about bacteria and such. But a best chance of saving the betta form stress when you get him home is a cycled tank. You can get an ammonia testing set - or, if you find that a bit intimidating (I do for some reason) you can go to an aquarist shop and they will check your water for you. My local store in town does it for free. I am not sure about big box stores, tho. If you see something being wrong with the betta, check water and see if it needs to be changed asap. 

- water changes are mandatory and have to be regular. A 5gal is a convenient size - I am using a 5l bottle left over from mineral water as a measuring tool;) This way I know I am always changing roughly 1/4th of the tank’s water. It’s very easy to see how much water I removed and how much I have to put back in - I can control the water temp and add dechlotinator/vitamins etc before it goes into the tank, so I do not shock my critters with too hot or too cold water. The rule I practice is leaving the dechlorinator in the bottle for about 10 mins before pouring it all into the tank. 

- you don’t have to be intimidated by planted tanks:) A little bunch of anubias on a stick is often enough to start with and a good look for a tank, in my opinion. It also makes for a more natural space for the betta he will certainly appreciate. The less fancy stuff the better - I got my first natural rocks form the side of the road (ofc I boiled the life out of them before they got even close to the tank) and they are usually quite cheap on amazon. A stick with a plant and a rock and some small-size gravel is often enough to look good. The plants will also help with eating up nitrites and keeping the water healthy.

- goodness, what else. Medicaiton. Ok. I have tried many meds for my boys and once the fish is in a bad way not much will help, form my experience :( My med set consists of Melafix - I add it to water according to instructions whenever I see my betta without appetite or acting off. It’s a mild anti-bacterial mixture that does not affect snails/shrimp. If that does not help, I use eSHa 2000 or eSHa Exit - they are two very comprehensive meds that deal with a variety of problems. I have never used aquarium salt, but some people swear by it - there’s no specific reason I don’t use it, I just never got around to it.  

This is all the chaotic advice, but things to remember (I am not trying to be condescending, I just don't know how much you know;]) are: cycled tank, regular water changes&filter maintenance, consistent temperature and quality food. Bettas are hardy little suckers, but sometimes they are also frail in ways we can’t see until it’s too late. I am already seeing a tumour growing on one of my boys and there is nothing I can do about it except giving him the best life I can - he is still going strong, but I know he will probably not last to the end of the year. It’s a hobby that sometimes seems thankless, but if you do everything right, even if they leave early, at least you’ve given them a good and peaceful time before that:)

If I you have any more questions or just want to share woes, feel free to message, I will do my best to answer:)

[minabyrd]

witcher secret santa!

Happy holidays @temps-t! Please enjoy this fic for @thewitchersecretsanta celebration! :) 

Summary: On a chilly morning, Tissaia enjoys a lie-in with her personal heater in the shape of a mischievous sorceress. 

Yennefer’s blood ran warm, even for mages, and Tissaia found it a comforting heat. Like a cat, warm from an afternoon lying in sunbeams.

During the depths of winter, rolling waves crashed against Aretuza’s dark stone and the winds stole away any heat whispering out of the hearths, barely warming the far sides of their rooms. Young students huddled, burning chaos to cast warming spells through thick robes. Even the older mages could be occasionally found shivering, the chill slipping through when their focus is distracted, to bite at fingers and toes. 

However, even in her days as a student, Yennefer barely wore more than the simple shift she was first given. Though they lacked the debauchery of her current preferred wardrobe, she still had strolled head held high around the castle, giving little care to the ice creeping up the stone.  

Tissaia had taken note of it then, as another sign of her untapped potential.  

Meanwhile, Tissaia had prided herself in regulating her temperature throughout the seasons. From the second she came into consciousness, her chaos was tuned to the atmosphere around her, even the taste of salt in the air, and adjusted appropriately. She had lived in Aretuza longer than any other place in her lifetimes, and the castle felt almost an extension of her body. Tissaia understood more of what was happening inside the castle before opening her eyes than anyone else could hope to achieve in a week. It was natural she’d be disoriented waking up anywhere else. 

Which is what Tissaia justified, as her half-conscious self realizes that her arms are thrown around a soft, warm waist.

She blinks, taking stock of her other surroundings; the dark canvas walls that ripple in the morning breeze, the hint of icy chill on her tongue, and fresh scent of lilac and gooseberries from the hair in front of her face. Together, they create a sense of… something that tugs deep in Tissaia’s chest, and she finds she doesn’t care about being thrown off her usual morning routine.

It’s the teasing she minds less. 

“Mmph?” Yennefer grunts, as she stretches lazily in Tissaia’s arms. 

“It’s cold.” Tissaia’s dry tone is rasped with sleep, which takes away from the intended seriousness of the statement. It’s more petulant child than she’d like.

“Funny,” and Yennefer’s sleep-tinged voice unfairly adds to her slyness. “Sabrina and I scouted through these mountain ranges more than once and never ended up cuddling.”

“I doubt Sabrina would willingly sleep within a stone’s throw of you even if you were the only source of heat left in the world,” Tissaia mumbled, burrowing her face deeper into Yennefer’s side. “Now shush, you’re letting out the heat.”

She hears Yennefer scoff, but say nothing more. A moment later, Tissaia feels a shuffle. Before she can snap at her again for letting out the heat, Tissaia feels Yennefer’s arm curling around her back, and the blanket being pulled up closer around her neck. 

Tissaia is glad she can smile into Yennefer’s nightgown - as frighteningly thin as it is for any weather. 

She had laid out their bedrolls side-by-side the night before, ignoring Yennefer’s raised eyebrows. 

“We are higher than any common idiot dare travel. In this thin air, we can only do much, physically or magically, without seriously fatiguing ourselves. The nights will be more punishing than the day, and it is wiser to share the heat.”

“Don’t tease if you won’t follow through, Rectoress,” Yennefer had grinned salaciously, and was rewarded with a stack of blankets to her face. 

“Layer these from thinnest to thickest.” Tissaia said, busying herself with casting wards. She considered a heating spell, but she was already tired from the walk, and wanted to conserve energy in case anything else decided to be stupid and follow them up. 

Tissaia had woken in the night to find that Yennefer kicked off all but the first blanket in the night, content with half her limbs askew in the open air. It was beyond frustrating, as Tissaia had shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around her. She wondered if Yennefer was conscious of the chaos burning to keep her warm, or if it was reflective of how powerful she was. 

Nevertheless, Tissaia wasn’t going to look a gift sorceress in the mouth, and decided to take advantage of her mobile space heater and gone back to bed. Ignoring her the faint nagging from her heart about how she may be enjoying the sensation for other reasons, of course. 

She and Yennefer had been dancing closer and closer ever since Sodden, and Tissaia liked the pattern they had fallen in. The nights they slept in each other’s beds were more often than not, far past the acceptable window of excuse of being easy to access for Yennefer’s healing. 

Tempered by Yennefer’s vulnerability, physically and mentally, the two had put away their barbed tongues and stubbornness, to reveal the genuine care underneath. And it had come with plenty of more pleasant benefits. 

Like how good Yennefer’s arms felt around her.  

Lulled by the warmth of her body and in her chest, Tissaia drifted off.

When she woke again, she could see sunlight streaming in through the thin canvas flaps that made up a door. Tissaia groans, and moves to throws an arm over her head, and pauses at the weight she feels on top of her.

She blearily opens an eye and looks down to see Yennefer’s arms curled against her own.

It’s almost embarrassing how her heart skips a beat.   

“What time is it?” Tissaia asks, if only to distract herself from the faint tinge of red on her cheeks. 

She feels Yennefer shrug at her side. “Gods if I know. But are you ready to get up? I had one too many glasses of wine last night and my bladder is letting me know about every sip.”

Tissaia glares over at her. “You’re far too gone from your student days to be worrying about my consideration, as little as you cared then. Why didn’t you just get up?”

“You said you were cold,” Yennefer shrugged again, and then jumps up before Tissaia can fathom a response. Yennefer does however, make sure to tuck the blanket back around Tissaia before dashing out the canvas doors.  

Tissaia just stares blankly.

And then,

“Did you even put on a coat?” she calls out to Yennefer. The faint laughter is all she needs as an answer, and Tissaia just rolls her eyes and beams. 

[samwilsonsbabymama]

What’s Best

Part 1/3

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Summary: Angel Reyes has always been a part of your life. He’s helped you through the hardest parts of your life, and you’ve stuck by him through the toughest parts of his. Angel has always done what he thought was best for you, even if doing so meant that he hurt you in the process. Angel only wants you to be happy, what he can’t see is that you’re happiest with him.

Warning: angst, (pre-season one)

Word Count: 1,847

A/N: This is my first Mayans MC fic and I’m so excited to share it with you! I’m really proud of this fic so I hope you all like it. It’s completely done so there won't be a long wait between updates. I would like to give a huge thanks to @akimi-youngblood​ for beta reading this fic, I really appreciate you for everything that you did  💖

Being a black girl in Santo Padre had always been a challenge for you. Your family had moved there when you were two, and it was the only place you remembered ever calling home. Your family was one of very few African American families in the entire town so that usually meant that you were one of the only black girls in your class. 

It didn’t bother you much, being the only black girl, because it’s what you were used to, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of your cousins that grew up in predominantly black areas. When it came to hair care, you had to get creative. You either made do with what was sold around you, or you would ask family members to send you certain products for you to try. 

Not only were you one of the few black people in the town, but you were also plus size. You had been your entire life, and it seemed to be something that ran in your family. While in school, you hated standing next to the other girls in your class. They were always so much smaller than you, and even though they never teased you about it, it was something that nagged at the back of your mind. 

The older you got, the more you loved Santo Padre. Your best friend, Angel Reyes, was born there and you couldn’t imagine your life without him or his family. You didn’t see yourself leaving because of them. But you couldn't say the same thing about your parents. 

You had always known that your father would leave. Santo Padre wasn’t where he wanted to be and where he wanted to be was with your mom.

Your mom skipped town when you were fifteen, abandoning you and your dad. It took your dad three hours to follow her the first time leaving you with enough money and food to last a few days. You weren’t worried at first; you actually enjoyed having the house to yourself. 

The only person that knew that your parents were gone was Angel and that was only because he was your best friend. You made Angel promise to keep it quiet because you believed that your parents would come back soon, so he did. You’d done a good job at hiding it, but when the money started to run out, that’s when you began to worry.

Angel would often invite you over for dinner claiming that his mom had been asking about you, but you would decline. You were terrified of what would happen if anyone found out about your parents.

You had skipped a few days of school, and you were ignoring Angel every time he would come over to check on you. He’d even sent Ez one evening, but you never answered the door. You wished they would leave you alone just like your parents had.

You were sitting on your couch one weekday morning. You had decided to stay home from school, yet again, when a knock sounded on your door. Confused, you placed a bookmark in your book and sat it down before heading to the door. Your heart sank when you looked through the peephole to find Mrs. Reyes standing on the other side.

You opened the door and smiled, “Hola señora Reyes.” 

“Mija,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug. “How are you?”

You wrung your hands when you sat back on the couch, a nervous tick that gave you away every time. “I’m alright,” you whispered, refusing to make eye contact with her.

She hummed and looked around the room taking note that all the blinds were open, letting in the sunlight. It was hot and keeping the blinds open in the middle of the day only made it hotter. It was silent between the two of you for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Why didn’t you go to school today, mija? Angel said that you haven’t gone all week.” 

You could feel her eyes on you, and at that point, you knew Angel had told her what happened. You sniffled, and before the first tear had fallen, Mrs. Reyes had enveloped you in a hug. She held you as you cried and told her all about your parents. You told her how your parents had been gone for a little over a month and that the lights were out and that you didn’t know what to do because you were out of money. She held you until you finished and wiped your tears away.

“Ve a empacar una bolsa, y/n, you cannot stay in this house alone,” her tone left no room for argument so you nodded and left to pack your bag.

Ten minutes later, you headed back to the front room with your bag of clothes and your backpack ready to go and headed out the door with Mrs. Reyes.

“I left your parents a note for when they come back telling them where you are, y/n,” she explained on the way to her house. “And don’t be mad at Angel, mija. When it comes to you, he does whatever he thinks is best, and him telling me was the best thing to do.”

You nodded once more and continued to look out the window. You couldn’t be angry at Angel because you knew she was right. Angel had proven that time and time again.

You’d stayed with the Reyes’ for a month before your father decided to come back to town. When Mr. Reyes opened the door that night and let your father in, your heart sank at the look in his eyes. You knew that your mother hadn't come back with him. 

You were silent the entire time you packed your bag and Angel sat on the bed and watched you. Neither of you wanted you to leave, but with your father back, there was no reason for you to stay.

As soon as you were finished, you looked at Angel and sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said before giving him a hug and walking towards your father. You hugged each of the Reyes’ before you left and thanked them for being there for you.

Your father was silent for most of the ride back home, until you asked him about your mother.

“What did you find?” you asked.

“I tracked her all the way to Tempe in Arizona, she’d always talked about living in Arizona,” he paused to take a deep drag from his cigarette. “I stayed there for a few days asking around to see if anyone had seen her and then I found her. And we fought, made up, and fought again. I really did try to get her to come back, y/n, but she split. Again.” 

You nodded and twiddled your thumbs and frowned when you noticed that the sun was setting. 

“Look, I know I shouldn’t have left you, but you needed to stay here while I looked for her, y/n,” he explained. “The road isn’t a place for a kid, believe me.”

You remained silent as you pulled up to the house and you both hopped out of the car. You lingered behind your dad as he entered and flipped on the light switch.

“I guess I forgot to pay that, hmm.”

You scoffed before you brushed past him and went straight to your room. And plopped face down onto your bed. You wanted to cry, you really did, but you didn’t have any more tears left.

Weeks passed, and things were finally getting back to normal. Well as normal as they could get without your mom there. You went back to school and caught up on the work you missed and continued to spend time at the Reyes’ house. Mrs. Reyes would often send you home with enough leftovers for your dad. 

It was the last day of school, and Angel had invited you over to go swimming with him and Ez and you rushed home to grab a change of clothes when you found the note.

Y/N,

I hate to do this to you again, but I got word on where your mother might be. It isn’t much, but I have to try and find her. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’ve paid all the bills up for a few months and left you some cash. If you run out, I’m sure you can go stay with Marisol and Felipe again.

See you soon x

You crumpled the note and threw it on the floor. You made your way into your bedroom and sat on the edge of your bed.

How could he leave you again? What was wrong with you that neither of your parents wanted you? You asked yourself over and over again. You couldn’t believe this was happening. 

You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until you heard someone knocking on your door. You didn’t move in hopes that they would leave you alone, and you were glad when the knocking finally stopped. That relief was short-lived when tapping could be heard on your bedroom window and you knew that only one person would tap on your window. You sighed before you moved to open your window and moved back to your bed as Angel climbed through your window.

“Why didn’t you come swimming with us?” he asked. You could tell that he was upset, but once he got a good look at your face, he knew. “He left again.”

You didn’t respond, and Angel stormed over to your closet and grabbed your bag before tossing it on the bed beside you.

“Angel,” you began, but he cut you off.

“No, y/n! Not this time,” he kneeled in front of you. “I’m not letting you stay here alone again. You’re staying with us. My family loves you.”

You chewed your lip and nodded and Angel walked to the front room as you packed. When the two of you made it to his house, Mrs. Reyes took one look at you and welcomed you with open arms.

This vicious cycle continued for the next three years. Your dad would run off chasing some half lead as to where your mother was, leaving you to fend for yourself. The moment you knew he was gone, you would find yourself on the Reyes’ doorstep with your bag. Your father would be gone for months on end without a call and then show up and act like everything was okay. 

Until two weeks after your eighteenth birthday.

“He isn’t coming back, is he?” you asked Angel. The two of you sat on your front porch for hours after your dad drove off.

Angel took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. You both had been there when your dad had decided to take off again, promising that he would return, but you noticed that he had packed all of his clothes this time. You knew that he wasn’t coming back. 

And so did Angel.

[Part Two]

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Eleven - How Time Flies

Word Count: 2222

Author’s Note: Big time jump time! Whoop! Also, to those on my tag list: I’ve put you down below but I don’t know if you’ll get the notification or not. I tried reading up on it, something about accounts being hidden by some setting or other... IDK, hope you still see this ok!

WARNING: none.

For previous chapters click here.

March, 2007.

A lot can happen in a year, well, ten months.

And despite phone calls and emails back and forth between you, Jim and Pam, there was a lot you missed.

After Casino Night, Jim had transferred to Stamford within a week, taking on their Assistant Regional Manager position, and after some careful consideration, Pam called off the wedding, and broke up with Roy. It was a shock for everyone including Pam, but after what happened with Jim, she realised two things:

1. She wasn't in love with Jim. 2. She didn't love Roy either.

You had helped her move into her new apartment, which was coincidentally the one you were packing up. Jan had talked to Corporate for you, and you had been selected as one of Dunder Mifflin's foreign agents, and you packed your stuff up into storage a day after Pam's cancelled wedding, and flew out to Vienna that evening.

Jim started dating one of the girls from the Stamford branch, Karen, Pam started back at art classes, taking the Dunder Mifflin designer course in New York on weekends, Ryan and a new temp took over your and Jim's spots on the sales team, Dwight got even more annoying (as reported by Pam). You had developed and quit a smoking habit at least twice, and spent the past 300 days flying from Berlin to Paris to Madrid to wherever else, collecting a small but secure list of European clients. But you all kept in touch as best you could, all doing your best to move on and up.

Things started changing when Josh from Stamford got a job at Staples. Necessary downsizing was going to close the Scranton branch permanently, but the departure meant Stamford ended up closed instead, and their staff were transferred to Scranton, reuniting Jim and Pam after months apart. Jim had phoned you about it months ago, waiting until you were at work in Madrid to call.

"Halpert? Isn't it like, 11 at night back home?" You asked, typing away at your computer as you spoke, pulling out a dictionary to remind yourself of a French phrase.

"I'm back at Scranton... And I saw Pam and, well..." He stopped, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I've moved on. Officially. Karen and I are doing great and now, Pam and I are actually back to where we were. Friends..."

"I'm really happy for you Jim... It took a lot of you, she knows that." You smiled, glancing over to your colleague Miguel, who tapped his arm. You glanced at the clock. "Shit, I've gotta head for a meeting. Can I talk to you tonight?" You asked.

"Sure... We need to get you back on US soil, Y/N. Doesn't feel the same here without you." Jim said softly, and you bit your lip.

"About that..." you muttered, but Miguel was getting impatient. "Got to go! Love ya, bye!" You set the phone back on the receiver and grabbed your coat, rushing after Miguel to your next business meeting.

—

"Do I think it's unfair that Y/N got to go to Europe?" Dwight looked into the camera. "Of course I do. Not only was the job never publicly advertised by Dunder Mifflin, they sent her to the home of my ancestors without so much as a thought of me. Dwide Shroode, my great grandfather, was a man of great honour in Europe."

"Are you going on about Europe again? Dwight, she went to Spain... And we're all pretty sure your great grandfather was a soldier under Hitler during the war." Pam called from her desk, and Jim chuckled.

"He was a war hero!" Dwight said in defence.

"Criminal... Losing side become war criminals." Jim corrected with a wink to the camera.

—

"Había sido un placer hacer negocios con usted, señor." You said with a smile, shaking hands with the client, following Miguel out of the room.

"You were right to wear that top..." Miguel muttered as you both headed out to the waiting car. You were fast approaching a year as an international agent, and Miguel had been there since day one.

"Wow. Thanks Miguel." You rolled your eyes, and the pair of you stopped before breaking into laughter. "Fuck yes I was right. At least half my clients are with us because of my rack." You chuckled, getting into the car.

"Ready for the Vienna meeting?" He asked, the car pulling out and starting the trip to the airport. Your bags were in the back, your files from the temporary office packed up for you by an intern.

"If it leads to what I think is happening, then yeah... Scouting for a year is long enough." You commented, and Miguel nodded. He was from Spain, brought on by Dunder Mifflin from a third party company to help out with convincing new clients: he knew the right restaurants, the local dialect, the customs. When you had arrived, he spent a week running you through things you should be doing to secure clients.

"I'll miss you when you go." He said decidedly, and you smiled back at him, relaxing into your seat. It really had been a great year. When you were about halfway to the airport, you phone rang, and Miguel slipped in a pair of earphones so as to not eavesdrop.

"Hola, esta es Y/N de Dunder Mifflin. ¿Como puedo ayudar?" You answered the phone, only to hear English on the other end.

"Y/N, it's Jan."

"Oh, hi Jan. What do I owe the pleasure?" You switched to English, your smiling disappearing when you heard her sigh.

"I just got word... The Vienna meeting isn't looking like good news for you." She sighed, and you sat up.

"I... I've made more sales than anyone else in the Europe group..."

"I know. I know... I wanted to phone, in case they tried some stunt and let you go now that they are closing the division." She said slowly, and you nodded, trying to think.

"Why are they closing us down anyway?"

"The company took at gamble with the project to begin with, and want to shift one of our branches in the north east into an international business headquarters, teach the staff already there how to deal with the clients you've amassed." Jan explained. "Money's tight, and Upper Management can't reason a new branch opening in Vienna."

"And I'm not being moved to the International Headquarters?"

"The chances are slim..."

"Then, what do I do Jan? If they let me go here and I don't get transferred..." You started to panic, and Miguel glanced over, now concerned.

"Y/N, Y/N... Don't worry, I'll be looking on your behalf. Just... Just get through today, and fly back here the minute the meeting is over. We'll sort it out in New York, ok?" Jan assured you, and you thanked her before ending the call. Jan was your corporate contact, and after she had got you the position in Madrid, she had been keeping you up to date with decisions made back home. Up until then, everything had been looking positive for the Europe branch. It was out of the blue, but at least you knew now. You could expect the worst.

"Everything ok, Y/N?" Miguel asked, and you sighed.

"I'll be in New York by the morning..." You said, and he nodded, understanding that the worst was coming. You both fell silent after that, through the drive to the airport, and security, and on the plane. You needed to think over your next steps, and spent the time on the plane writing in a small notebook, drafting a CV, just in case it was needed.

—

"Michael, Michael please..." Jan spoke over the speaker phone, interrupting Michael's corny opener. "This is about Y/N."

"Oh right, how is the traitor?" Michael asked, still pissed off by your leaving the Scranton branch. Jim overheard Michael and Jan, and ended his call, leaning back to listen in through the ajar door.

"They are shutting down the Europe project, and I realise the merger has filled up all the vacancies in your office, but I'm looking for some options for her." Jan said, and Jim beckoned Pam over to listen in.

"You shouldn't-" Dwight started, but the pair shushed him.

"She betrayed me... But wouldn't you just put her in with corporate?" Michael whined, and Jan let out a loud, long sigh.

"The information I have is that... Well, they're laying off the entire Europe team. Giving their work to the Rochester branch. Quick and easy way to save money." Jan admitted, and Jim and Pam shared a look.

"Even if we did have space in Scranton, we wouldn't want her Jan." Michael said quickly, lifting the phone and ending the call. He noticed the shuffling outside his door, and got up, flinging the door open to see Jim and Pam scrambling back to their desks, pretending they hadn't heard a thing. He looked around for a few more moments, shutting his room door and hiding himself inside.

The moment he was gone, Jim walked up and over to Pam. "Pam, you helped arrange Y/N's flights out, didn't you?" Jim asked, and Pam nodded. "Think you could find out when she's getting home? We could go meet her at the airport?" Jim suggested, and Pam smiled brightly.

"I'll see if I can find the info. You send her an email, see what she says about the whole thing. We need to know how down in the dumps she is." Pam ordered, and Jim tapped into her desk, heading back over to his computer, smiling over to Karen as he sat down.

They had been based in Scranton for a little while now, started dating, and Jim had explained his old feelings for Pam. And Karen understood, all of it. In fact, they were better than ever now. She came over after a half hour or so.

"So, tonight... You free?" She asked, leaning on his desk. Jim stopped typing and gave her a smile.

"I can't tonight, Pam and I are going to pick up an old friend from the airport... Do you want to come?" Jim offered, and Karen shook her head.

"It's fine, but you owe me, Halpert." She smirked, heading over to her desk.

—

And just like that, you were out of a job.

Corporate had tried to be nice about it, sure, and offered a severance package, but what you wanted was somewhere to work. If your life had gone differently, then severance and a chance to stay in Spain or Austria for the rest of your life would have been great, but you had only ever had Dunder Mifflin.

No college, no family. You barely scraped through high school and now all you had to your name was a suitcase of personal effects and eight years or so with a company that was downsizing. And as much as you wanted to believe that loyalty, dedication and language skills were going to get you a job, it was more likely that you would end up working in a fast food restaurant and couch surfing.

Jim had sent an email, telling you he had heard, but you didn't even have the energy to respond.

Your flight home was long, and you spent most of it staring out a window and picking at airplane food, wondering how in the name of God you would move forward from this. Maybe Jan had an idea, she had been a mentor to you while you were away, offering sound advice in times of trouble.

It's not like you could even go back to Scranton. The Stamford Merger had bulked out the workforce, there was more of a sales team in that Pennsylvania branch than there was in the whole Europe project. And you weren't looking to be squeezed in out of pity. You had self-respect.

After a sleepless flight, and landing at JFK as the clock struck 11 that night, you didn't feel good about being home. You didn't feel good about anything.

You grabbed your bags, your phone flashing with voicemails from Jan and a text saying she would talk to you tomorrow as you turned it back on. A drink would be nice, but terrible for the morning to come. A fresh set of clothes wouldn't kill you...

You stopped off at the bathroom, searching through your case to find a nice top and jeans, changing into something that made you feel more comfortable. You let your hair down out of the tight bun you had locked it in, and took a moment to look in the mirror.

Things had changed in a year. You had dyed your hair a little darker, your skin had tanned, you had lost some weight. The bags under your eyes were too visible, so you quickly shuffled through your makeup and pulled out some concealer, and tidied your face a little.

Maybe a drink would be good, stop having to flirt in Spanish... You fastened your suitcase back up and headed out, dragging your suitcase behind you and heading for the exit into the main airport building.

"Y/N!!" Two voices shouted, and you turned only to be tackled into a tight hug, two sets of arms wrapping around you and cementing you as officially 'home'.

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward​ @rosie2801 @onceuponahuntersrealm