#and they refuse to apologize for this invasion of privacy
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HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [8].
SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).
PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader.
GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby.
WARNINGS. swearing, vomit, heeseung is sick, tormenting said sick man, sex jokes, and loser hee backstory reveal.
WORD COUNT. 3.8k.
NOTE. merry christmas. my gift for u all is the heeseung chapter. let's pretend that it's still summer for the sake of the fic yes thank u hope u enjoy.
MASTERLIST | NEXT >
CHAPTER 8 — hot, drenched, and sweaty.
“I THINK HEESEUNG IS IN A FIGHT CLUB.” That unprompted statement catches the interest of all the four boys currently in the living room. Soobin looks up from his half-finished crocheted bonnet, Jake and Jay pause their game of scrabble, and Sunghoon drops a rubik’s cube on your face because you gallantly decided to use his lap as a pillow on the lounge sofa.
“Oh god, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sputters out an apology. You take this as a sign to stop invading his space. “What do you mean though? Fight club? Heeseung?”
“Listen.”
You spring up from your position, sitting with a very determined look on your face which simply prompts their attention further. “Heeseung leaves the house at exactly 10 p.m. every Saturday night and comes back at like two in the morning. I asked him about is once, and all he said is that he’s doing ‘business,’ whatever the fuck that means. It’s suspicious as hell.”
The only reason why you were up at 2 a.m. to catch him in the act in the first place is because one time, you challenged Beomgyu and Jake to a no-sleeping contest and those two are the most gullible and have the most money from the lot. Little did those suckers know that you slept for fifteen hours prior to challenging them. They dozed off at the thirty six hour mark while you were still awake enough to catch Heeseung sneaking into the house at the devil’s hour.
After that, you had more money in your bank account, and a new curiosity that’s begging to be satisfied.
“I think he’s in an underground fighting club,” you declare. “There’s no other reason.”
“No, no,” Jay contends. “It might be something else. He could be a stripper.”
A silent moment of consideration.
Then you all release a unified, “Nah.”
“Maybe it’s private,” says Sungoon. “What—whatever it is, it could be none of our business.”
He has a point, but you’re nosy and bored. So are Jake and Jay because turns out, today’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and you’re acquitted from any charges of instigating things because it’s Jay who announces, “Should we follow him?”
You grin. Sunghoon doesn’t approve of your expression. “We should follow him.”
“I’ll keep a lookout.”
“Text us when he’s about to leave.”
“You got it.”
Thus starts your mission of finding out whether Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper. Sunghoon refused to be a part of it, but Soobin wasn’t strong enough to deny your puppy dog eyes, so it’s you, him, Jake, and Jay who might be charged for stalking and invasion of privacy because the moment you get a signal from Jake that “the target is out of the house, over,” the four of you, willingly or otherwise, start to tail him.
It’s disconcertingly easy to follow Heeseung without him noticing the four not so discreet people lagging behind him. When he takes off on a bus, you quickly hail a taxi for the four of you to jump inside of and continue the trail.
“I think—I think we should head back,” says Soobin, squeezing his arms against his torso because there are three of you cramped in the backseat. “The sky is glum. I think it’s gonna rain.”
“The sky is glum because it’s the fucking night. Mr. Sun has died. Wait, he just got off the bus. Let’s go, let’s go before we lose him!”
As you stalk down the sidewalk, you can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu because you swear you’ve crossed this same path before. You’ve been here before. You’re sure of it, and it’s not just because this area is just around your university, of which you haven’t stepped foot on since the beginning of summer and since living with Jake and his friends.
“Hey, he’s over there, he’s going to that cafe.”
Your deja vu is answered when the familiar facade of The Lounge shows up right before you. Heeseung enters the building. Sunghoon knew all along, that fucking rat. That’s why was so against this plot, that’s why he refused to tag along with you. “I’m going in,” says Jay. You postpone your revenge plan against Sunghoon for later and quickly follow behind Jay into the cafe. Once you enter however, it starts pouring.
The clear glass windows of the place get stained by an assault of raindrops. Crap. None of you brought an umbrella. “I knew it was going to rain…” Soobin laments, and you pat circles against his back to apologize for doubting him, further telling him that he has a knack for weather prediction and if he’s considering switching career paths.
“What now?” Jake asks.
“We can wait for the rain to stop or call Sunghoon to pick us up and bring us umbrellas,” you tell them. “For now, let’s find out what the fuck Lee Heeseung is up to here. This wasn’t part of any of our calculations.” The calculations being either violence or promiscuity. You didn’t make a lot of calculations.
The problem is, Heeseung is nowhere to be found. You end up ordering some drinks and food and decide to settle in a booth at the corner of the place so that you guys can have a full and complete view of the cafe’s entire interior, yet you still can’t find him, so you end up reminiscing the time Sunghoon dumped your lemonade on you which catapulted your hobby of messing with these guys because they become so nervous around you it’s funny.
“Did we enter the wrong building? Did he catch us tailing him and left through the back door?!”
You doubt Jake’s presumptions, and you’re correct to doubt him because right at that moment, Heeseung finally shows his stupid fucking face.
Not only does he show his stupid fucking face— he shows his stupid fucking face on the mini stage in the other corner of the cafe with a freaking guitar. What? So he’s not an underground fighter? Heeseung leans into the mic and a singular “ah,” resounds from the speakers mounted on the walls, muting down the muffled sound of the rain outside in that single instant.
When Heeseung starts to play the instrument followed by the sound of his voice, the rain is forgotten entirely.
This is a surprise. This is unexpected.
“This is disappointing,” says Jay, and you snap your head at him with eyes wide in alarm and disbelief because what does he mean disappointing? Disappointing where? You’ve been living with an angel all this time and you didn’t know?
“Yeah, it’d be cooler if he was in a fight club,” Jake adds, as if their friend isn’t putting the Billboard’s Hot 100 to shame right now. What kind of bullshit are they saying?
“Did you guys know he could sing like that?”
The three look at you, even Soobin, and respond with a yes, a nod, a hum. Your mouth gapes. But you don’t get why you’re surprised when these guys have known each other for years prior to you barging in unannounced— so, of course they know, of course you don’t, and in the midst of all this, your thoughts are interrupted by the sharp screech from the speakers, because Heeseung has stopped singing, and is instead now looking at your table, looking more alarmed than you.
You’re pretty sure your eyes met before he decided to bolt out of the cafe.
“Oh, he’s getting off stage. Maybe he’s going to greet u— why is he skipping our table? Why is he running outside? Hyung, wait!”
None of you end up chasing after him because it’s still pouring outside, and you can already predict what the aftermath of this is going to be. Thus concludes your mission of finding out whether or not Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper, with the answer amounting to neither because Heeseung is a performer during The Lounge’s open mic nights, and you don’t get why he’s been acting so secretive about it all this time.
Heeseung wakes up feeling like shit. And not the regular kind of shit. He feels like Satan just chewed him up, only to spit him back out— slobber and the inferno’s of hell included because he’s sweating through his shirt, his blanket feels like a prison, but if he kicks it of, he gets attacked by cold flashes, so he’s in a sticky and uncomfortable limbo between overheating and freezing to fucking death.
His throat is dry. The only thing that escapes his throat is a guttural and inhuman rasp. He wouldn’t be this sick if he didn’t run out in the rain last night.
Rather, he wouldn’t have ran out if you weren’t there last night.
Heeseung rolls to his side with a groan of pain and anguish, muffled against the pillow as a different kind of fevered heat washes over his face. Seriously. Why the fuck were you there last night? He could give less than two shits if his roommates find out that he sings Taylor Swift every weekend at The Lounge, but you— you’re a different story. Because he knows you’re gonna use this information against him somehow, just like how you like to fuck around with his friends.
Too much. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much for him. The time you chased Beomgyu around the house in the dress(?) Jay made is the only evidence he needs to affirm that.
Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have bolted out like that immediately after meeting your eyes. You already suspect that you gross him out (which, by the way, couldn’t be more wrong) for always running away from the threat of skin-to-skin contact with you. Why was it raining when it’s still summer, anyway? It’s like that night was a curse made especially for him.
He curls up further into a ball, hoping you just forget about it all and don’t question him about it.
Yet the very opposite happens because what interrupts his spiraling thoughts is the sound of your voice— already threatening a wave of torment.
“Oh, god. You’re in a worse state than I thought.”
Heeseung regrets springing up from his bed because his head immediately gets slammed by the recoil of a headache. “Why...why are you here?” he barely scratches out. You’re by the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes laced with pity. He didn’t even hear the door opening.
“Jake told me about your illness,” you say, walking over to the side of his bed and Heeseung flinches back the moment you set yourself down on the mattress. “He said you have a chronic case of bitchless syndrome.
He looks at you. Your face is dead serious. Heeseung feels a drop of sweat trickling down his neck, then you break into that devious smile of yours and laugh out a grin.
“Kidding. Jake would never say that. He told me you were sick and needed someone to nurse you up, so here I am.”
Holy shit. Heeseung lets out a breath, nearly teetering off his bed to maintain a comfortable enough distance from your overwhelming presence. “Why—” some throat phlegm cuts him off. He lets out a violent cough before reclaiming his voice. “Why you? I—I mean, why did Jake ask you?”
“Ouch?” you remark. “No one else is around. Jake’s out hiking, apparently. Sunghoon’s covering someone’s shift. Beomgyu’s obviously still at his parents. Jay says he’s out on a mission, and Soobin left the house with a giant backpack. I was too afraid to ask. Anyway, I know my very physical presence disgusts you, but deal with it for now, you goober. You look like hell.”
“That’s— that’s not—” You take this opportunity to pull his sweaty blanket off in one swift movement. “That’s not it! You don’t— don’t disgust me, I’m just— you know—”
“I know, I just wanted to fuck with you.”
You’re grinning. You haphazardly fold the sheet before throwing it down to the foot of the bed, sitting over it. Heeseung feels the blood drain from his face— “Anyway, sit up and let me feel you up,” —only for the blood to shoot right back up and nearly knocks him out unconscious. “Feel your temperature up, perv. I’m not taking advantage of a sick man. C’mere, let me see how sick you are.”
Heeseung, however, still has enough marbles to quickly evade your incoming hand. He swerves to the right. You blink at him, arm reaching out to thin air, before trying again, only for Heeseung to swat your hand away with gritted teeth and fearing for his life. “S—sorry,” he chokes out. He sees the glint in your eyes. Crap. He shouldn’t have done that.
“For fuck’s sake, just let me check your temperature— Heeseung! What the hell?!”
“Just—just leave me alone!”
Earlier, Heeseung thought he was about to die. He didn’t think he had enough strength to fight for his life as he squirms underneath you on the bed, driven solely by the desire to protect his fucking pride because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you touch him when he’s all gross and sweaty and gross from the fever. There’s no way in hell he’s letting that happen.
“What are you—”
He yanks out his blanket from underneath you, causing you to roll of his bed and he throws the sheet over his red, hot, and burning face because holy fuck. Holy shit. That was a close call.
When he peeks out from the blanket, Heeseung instantaneously feels a threat to his life.
You’re glaring at him. You look like you want to skin him alive and he gulps and nudges himself away, ass nearly falling off the bed when you get up from the floor and dust yourself off. “Okay,” you huff. “Fine. Have it your way. Die from a heatstroke, or whatever the fuck. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, and if you do, I’m expecting you to get down on your knees and beg because every time you’ve swatted my hand away was an additional jab at my pride.”
Okay, damn. You leave his room, not without slamming his door close to emphasize your anger, and on top of feeling like absolute crap, Heeseung now also feels guilty as hell.
“Fuck,” he rasps out. It’s not like he’s doing it out of malice, or hate, or because he thinks you’re a germ that he cannot touch, like you always accuse him with. Heeseung still remembers how his whole no touching quirk started: sixteen years-old, when Heeseung finally mustered the courage to hold his first girlfriend’s hand, only for her to laugh and joke and pull away while saying, “ew, gross. Your hand is all sweaty.”
Twenty-two year old Heeseung has been traumatized to this very day.
Especially now when he’s all disgusting and icky and very much ew and gross because of his fever. Stupid, he knows, but the last thing he’d want to see is a disgusted grimace from your face the moment the back of your hand presses against his damp and sticky, sickness-induced forehead. However, it seems like he’s been inflicting to you the very injury he’s been trying to protect himself by constantly avoiding the threat of contact of your skin against his.
Stupid. It’s really stupid.
But he can’t avoid dehydration by simply ignoring the dryness of his mouth. With much struggle, Heeseung forces himself out of the bed, despairing the amount of stairs he has to climb down— and the suggestion of calling for you help does tease his brain for a split second, but decides against it with a shake of his head as he continues the awful trip to the living room, body weighing thirty times heavier, and skull feeling like it’s about to crack itself open.
The problem is, his skull does almost end up getting cracked open. Because as he’s finally nearing the bottom floor, he misses a step, causing him to hit the ground with a harsh thud.
“Ugh,” he grunts, pushing himself with his forearms, but he stops, nearly face planting into the floor once more because you’re there, you’re walking up to him, looking down at him, and holding a cold and refreshing glass of water above his head like some sort of fucked up display of powerplay against a sick and thirsty man.
“Need any help?” you hum.
“I’m fine,” Heeseung tries once more to get up only to feel the nausea rise up to his head, and he stops, pauses, and decides that the floor is more comfortable after all. He looks up at you. “Can I...can I get a sip from your glass?”
There’s a glint in your eyes. You crouch down. “Sorry, what was that?”
Are you enjoying this? Do you like watching him in pain? (Likely answer is yes because you yourself have admitted that you enjoy their suffering and torment). “Water,” he rasps out. “Can I drink some of your water?”
“This?” You swirl the glass in your hand, ice clacking against the crystal, before taking a long, tortuous sip on the straw (why does it have a straw?) Heeseung swallows down his spit. “Say please,” you say with a smile. Heeseung chokes on said fucking spit and hacks out a cough because you’re fucking insane.
He feels his face grow hotter. And it’s definitely not just from the fever.
“P—please, give me some of your water.”
You don’t prolong his agony any further and hand him over the glass.
“Need any help getting up?” you ask as you watch him agonizingly sit up against the bottom steps and toss down the water into his throat in one shot as if it was at a company dinner. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and feels your disappointed stare pricking his conscience. “I can’t help you unless you ask me to, Heeseung.”
He frowns, deflating. “But I’m all gross and sweaty.”
The last thing he expects you to do is to roll your eyes at him and stand up with an arm stretched out.
And the next thing he knows is that you’re lugging him over to the couch, an arm around his waist, his around your shoulder, and you set him down the cushions with a grunt. “Jeez, I’m not made for manhandling men,” you say, very dubiously. “Lie down.” And when he doesn’t lie down, wide-eyed and unresponsive, you poke his forehead and he tips back, falling into the couch.
What…what is going on...
“You know, I’m very tempted to ask you to take your shirt off just to laugh at your reaction, but you actually look like you’re about to die, so I decided against it. Aren’t I sweet?”
You’re back with a basin and some towels (when did you disappear?) and Heeseung’s brain starts malfunctioning, growing dizzier and dizzier by the second when you touch his jaw, damp towel wiping off the sweat coating his face and neck and he feels his throat tightening. “Christ. I think your temp is over forty degrees, my guy,” you say, squeezing the towel over the basin. “Hello? Heeseung? What the hell, did you catch Sunghoon’s disease? Are you unable to talk to me now, too?”
“It’s—it’s not that,” he chokes out. He’s about to justify himself, but you press your palm against his forehead, cutting off all the oxygen pipes leading up to his brain, and he feels like passing the fuck out.
Shit. Shit. Holy shit.
“Ah,” you say. “You’re not running away.”
He’s not. He’s not running away. But he feels a different sort of problem coming up.
“I think I’m gonna throw up.”
You blink at him. This doesn’t help his case at all.
“Wow, this is an upgrade,” you say from the other side of the bathroom door while Heeseung pukes his guts out into the toilet. Heavy metal playing from his phone is trying to block the noises out. He’s heaving over the bowl and wants to kill himself from embarrassment. “Now my very presence makes you vomit. I’m sorry for everything so far.”
There’s a flush. The music stops. Heeseung cracks the door open and you pass him a glass of water without some bedroom-esque powerplay this time. “Seriously, why did you run off into the rain last night? Look where it got you.” It’s a shocker that you haven’t told him he’s gross yet. You’re standing there in front of the bathroom and in front of the mess of his post-vomit presence, and all you’re doing is looking at him in worry.
“I wasn’t expecting you guys to be there,” he says, still sounding like death, and you take the now empty glass from him and head over to the kitchen, pointing at his makeshift deathbed on the couch.
“I wasn’t expecting you to give Mariah Carey a run for her money, either.” After you place the glass into the sink, you’re back to the living room. He’s down on the sofa, eyelids heavy, unable to say or do anything when you push back his hair to place a damp towel on his forehead. “Like damn, I knew you guys have known each other for a while now, but I totally felt like an outsider when I was the only one surprised to hear you sing.”
You’re not making fun of him. You don’t make a comment about how sticky his skin feels or how gross his sweat-drenched shirt is.
“I like your voice. Too bad it sounds like shit right now, but you should let me hear you again once you feel better.” The doorbell rings. “Oh, right, I ordered some porridge. You can feed yourself, right? Hold on, let me get it.”
He hears your footsteps padding across the floor, unable to find the strength to open his eyes as the coolness of the cloth seeps into his forehead. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much— case in point, everything that just happened and all the other times you’ve teased, tormented, and actively tortured to the point of tears all the inhabitants of this god forsaken house.
Yet it is also your excessive nature that has let Sunghoon speak more than five words around you, that has stopped Beomgyu from hermitting in his room twenty-four-seven, that has helped Soobin and Jay in two very important instances this summer, and has allowed Jake to offer you a spot in their lives after leaving that room on the third floor empty for a good two years.
“Fuck, I can’t believe they left me behind with a sick man when I can barely even take care of myself.”
You’re back. He opens his eyes and tries to lift himself up but his body is way too heavy. “Uh,” he says. “Can you…please…open the container for me?” He doesn’t miss your amused fucking grin when he mumbles out the please.
“Ah. Open up.”
Heeseung has always felt you were too much. Maybe it’s his fever talking, maybe it’s not, but maybe too much exactly what he needs right now.
HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS.
© hannie-dul-set, 2023.
#lee heeseung x reader#heeseung x reader#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#tomorrow x together x reader#txt x reader#heeseung x you#txt scenarios#enhypen scenarios#choi soobin x reader#choi beomgyu x reader#park sunghoon x reader#sim jaeyun x reader
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Conversations with a Movie Star
Chapter 2- Free WiFi
Pairing- Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava
Word Count- 2.1K-ish
Warnings- none really that I'm aware of? some foul language, some awkward conversation....mostly this chapter is just fluff & filler 🤷🏻♀️
Author's Note- big thanks to @wildemaven for putting up with me sending her chunks of this and asking if it's okay, lol, and to @trulybetty for all the baby hippos 🦛
Movement on the security monitor for the outer office catches Dieter's eye and he peels himself off the couch to get a closer look, mentally preparing himself to deal with a current guest or a new one.
What he's not prepared for is that cute reporter woman- Ava, he knows her name is Ava- to be behind the reservation desk apparently rifling through all the motel's paperwork.
It's not the first time she's been by the office, ringing the bell for assistance and then impatiently waiting for a few minutes before huffing off. If she'd ever noticed the camera in the corner, Dieter wouldn't have been at all surprised if she'd flipped it off before she left.
And Dieter's been hiding. Avoiding her. But this, this invasion of his privacy, is the last straw and he's about to fling open the inner office door and march out there and give her a piece of his mind when he realizes he's wearing the exact same thing he was wearing the last time he saw her and he refuses to let her think she's right about him- he has taken a shower in the last two days, thank you very much.
He shrugs off his robe and leaves it where it falls, grabbing a tee off the back of the couch and giving it a quick sniff before pulling it over his head and then searching for a pair of pants. All he finds are striped pajama bottoms but whatever, it's still a different outfit. And a mostly clean one at that.
He gives his hair a quick tousle - chicks seem to love that messy look- and there's not much he can do about his blood shot eyes on such short notice, but that's what his trusty Ray-Bans are for.
He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, gets his game face on and then he flings open the door.
Dieter's amused when Ava jumps at the sound of the door flying open and he can feel a smirk starting to inch itself across his face, one that quickly changes to a look of annoyance when she spins to face him and doesn't even have the decency to look guilty about being caught.
"Finally!" Ava exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air before letting them fall back down to her sides. "Have you just been hiding back there every time I've stopped by? You have, haven't you? Whatever, you're here now. Can you help me?"
"With your snooping?" Dieter snorts. "Not likely. What are you hoping to find? Tax records? STD test results? Love letters? Compromising photos?"
Now she just looks confused, head tilted and hands on her hips and Dieter's even more annoyed because here she is, busted rifling through his personal property and she really shouldn't look so fucking adorable. Looking at her big wide eyes makes him feel like he should apologize and he's not even the one in the wrong.
"Okay one, I'm not snooping. And two, I really wouldn't expect you to keep anything that sensitive somewhere so easily accessible to the public? And as glad as I am to know you get tested regularly, I'm really just trying--"
"To find what? What do you think you can sell to the highest bidder and make a quick buck or two off of? I swear all you people are the fucking same, just because some one is a goddamn celebrity doesn't mean they're not entitled to their fucking privacy and you just come in here--"
"Hey! Dumb Bunny!!" Ava yells, cutting off his tirade just when he was really getting warmed up to the subject. "I'm just looking for the password for the WiFi! It's not in my room anywhere and I need to do some work. Also, I'm not a gossip columnist. If I was gonna tell your secret, TMZ would've been here already."
"Oh. trashpanda75." Dieter answers automatically. That was not at all what he was expecting. "All one word, lowercase letters."
"Thank you," Ava nods. "It's been fun but let's not do this again, okay? And maybe consider hiring some front desk help, you could avoid future mishaps like this one where you falsely accuse your guests of spying on you."
She leaves the office with a wave and Dieter scrambles to follow her.
"Wait, Ava, wait- Dumb Bunny? What the fuck?"
"I gotta call you something," she shrugs. "And apparently we're pretending you aren't who you are so your name isn't an option. Same initials. I'll call you DB for short."
Well. He's been called worse things.
"Sorry about earlier. The WiFi works best from the office. Come by anytime. I have beer & I'll order pizza? -DB"
Ava pulls the note off the door and taps it against her lips as she lets herself into her room and ponders this turn of events. She wasn't expecting an apology. She was snooping a bit, not that she found anything interesting and she did feel a little guilty about lying to him, but is it really a lie if she's not planning on calling TMZ? The plan is to be long gone before she ever even publishes the first word about him.
The reporter in her is screaming for her to take any opportunity to find out more about him and how he ended up here, but the woman- the girl, really- who used to have a crush on him is a little more hesitant. Never meet your heroes and all that. And she's already met him. And she's not sure how she feels about it.
She digs her phone out of her back pocket and flops down on the bed, pulling up her brother's number. She needs the other half of her brain to figure this out.
"What now, Ava?" Drew says instead of hello and Ava smiles, her brother is a gem for putting up with her and she loves him so much for it.
"I've been invited to go hang out with the super famous, and still ridiculously cute, boy I had a crush on in highschool. Should I go?"
"We both already know you're going, so what do you want from me?"
"Do I look okay?" Ava holds her phone up and angled down so her brother can get a look at her outfit and Drew rolls his eyes.
"That's not much of an outfit. Do those shorts even cover your ass?"
"Mostly? Just stop being such a dad and tell me if I'm cute?"
"Why don't you have any female friends? Then you could bother them with this type of shit?"
"Because I was born with a built-in bestie. Not my fault you're a dumb boy. But back to me...."
"Ava, do you even know what you're doing here? Please do not sleep with a washed up movie star for the sake of a story."
"I didn't say I was going to sleep with him. I said I'm going to hang out. Apparently there will be pizza and beer."
"Then why does it matter if you're cute?"
"Ugh. You're right. I need a female. Where's Emma?"
"Soccer practice with the twins, then she has to pick up Harry at ballet."
"Then you'll have to do."
"Fine," Drew sighs. "Change the shorts, leave something to the imagination. And for God's sake, put on a bra!"
"I will do one of those things," Ava laughs. "Thanks bro, you're the best!! Smooches to everyone!"
Ava takes in the scene in front of her and holds in a laugh. Dieter Bravo. With a vacuum cleaner. Haphazard tracks in the carpet show he's missed just about as much of the room as he's cleaned but it's cute that he's making an effort. He's changed since she saw him this morning too. Just shorts and a worn faded tee but it's the first time she's seen him in something fit for the public.
She slips her phone from her pocket and snaps a quick picture and the movement must catch his eye because he cuts the machine off and grins at her.
"You know that's not actually a stain remover, right?" Ava asks, pointing from the vacuum to the spot on the carpet he'd been going over repeatedly when she'd arrived. "You need a shampooer. Completely different. There's probably one around here somewhere though."
"Yeah, probably. Maintenance room. I wouldn't know how to use it. Which is weird because I used to help out around here when I was a kid, you know? Earn my allowance or whatever," Dieter babbles. Is he really talking about vacuums and allowance? What the hell is wrong with him?
"Wait, you're like actually from here? Somehow that tidbit never made it in TeenBeat," Ava smiles. "We vacationed here a lot when we were younger. I used to think it would be so cool to live at the beach year round. Did you like it?"
"The beach? Yeah, mostly. The motel? Not particularly. But my grandparents owned it so I uh, I spent a lot of time here growing up," Dieter shrugs as he starts winding up the cord to the vacuum. No way is he getting into his whole shitty childhood story with her. "You said you have some work to do?"
Ava blinks at the abrupt subject change and takes a step back from the doorway to the inner office. Maybe she misread the whole situation? Hell, maybe his dumb ass left the note on the wrong damn door and she shouldn't even be here.
"Oh. Yeah. Job hunting really. But it kinda seems like I'm bothering you? So I can just sit out here?" Ava gestures behind herself to the reservation desk. "Give me like half an hour and I'll get out of your hair."
"I know you really don't have the room for like a business center or anything, but if you got the continental breakfast going again," Ava continues talking even as she turns away from the office and drops her messenger bag on the reservation desk. "Put in some two top tables, it would give people the option to get some work done. Or not. I mean, probably not the clientele you're catering to. What do I know?"
"You're not bothering me and what do you mean get the continental breakfast going again? That's still a thing, right? I mean, that was a thing Anika did. I think?"
"Anika? That was the blonde?"
"Yeah," Dieter nods. "She was doing all the day-to-day stuff. Or all the stuff really, I was just, you know, signing the checks."
"Well, I hate to tell you this, but there's like four rotten bananas and half a blueberry muffin over there, no one's eating that shit."
"I have no idea what I'm doing," Dieter mutters, dragging a chair out of the back office and sitting down next to her at the desk.
"I've noticed. I can help. While I'm here. If you want," Ava shrugs. "I've never worked at a motel, but I've stayed at plenty."
"What's in it for you?"
"You comp the rest of my stay?" Ava grins. "And I think you mentioned pizza? That's a good start."
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo x ofc#dieter bravo x ofc!Ava#dieter bravo fanfic#cwams#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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Steven universe Spinel headcannon with a human reader?
Oh! Spinel will be fun to write!
Yandere! Spinel with Human! Darling
Pairing: Romantic/Platonic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Stalking, Invasion of privacy(?), Murder implied, Violence, Mood swings, Kidnapping, Fear of abandonment, Forced companionship.
Spinel is very... unstable.
Her yandere behavior would reflect that.
She's better during Steven Universe: Future, but before that she was certainly more unhinged.
My yandere Spinel would be a combination of the two.
Spinel is goofy and fun-loving for the most part.
She wants to be super close with her darling and be your best friend essentially.
She can get suffocating and clingy in an attempt to make you happy.
Spinel feels if she keeps you happy then you'll love her and never leave her.
This gem hates being left behind and would do anything to prevent it.
Spinel is Obsessive, Clingy, Affectionate, Clever, Prone to outbursts, and very Trusting towards her darling.
Spinel wasn't expecting to be so attached to a human darling.
The closest she got was Steven, but that was due to the whole being Pink thing.
Spinel appears to be extremely obsessive over you when she meets you.
When she loves a darling she is rarely seen away from you.
She follows you everywhere, the gem wanting to know more about you.
There's a huge gap between gem and human culture.
It'll take some getting used to for both her and you.
Humans are a bit strange in terms of behavior but she really wants to understand you.
It'll take time for you because... well... Spinel's an alien rock person that has the ability to act as a living cartoon.
Her movements still scare you a bit.
Spinel knows that learning to be friends with you after Pink will be a bit of a struggle for her.
Let alone understanding this whole love thing if she decides to see you that way.
Spinel is clingy to you, a human, due to her past.
You just being kind to her is already enough to get her hooked.
She wants to do everything with you.
Spinel is incredibly affectionate towards you even if you want to be left alone.
She gives tight hugs that coil around you like a snake...
She kisses your cheek sometimes as what you can only assume is a greeting?
She even compliments you, bouncing up and down around you with excitement you can't ever match.
Spinel also trusts you not to harm her or her feelings.
You'll be different than Pink, she doesn't think you'll abandon her.
In terms of murder or abduction, Spinel may do such a thing.
Despite her attempts at healing she's still a bit unhinged.
She's prone to outbursts and could harm her darling or those around you.
She usually doesn't mean to harm you, forgetting humans are vulnerable.
If she hurt you fatally, you don't come back...
So Spinel ends up apologizing a ton if she does hurt you.
She has tears in her eyes and everything... she's sorry she made you bleed or cracked a bone!
She wants to fix it.
When it comes to others... her outbursts are probably out of jealousy.
She doesn't usually feel bad if she hurts a human or gem who she's jealous of.
Unless you find out and are upset about it...
Only then does she feel guilty about it.
If Spinel kidnapped you it's because she doesn't want to go to Homeworld without you.
You're a human... you belong on Earth.
But it's either she stays here or you come with her.
She refuses to part from you.
She emphasizes this by wrapping around you tightly, face pressed into your neck.
You aren't sure if you want to go but what choice do you have?
Dragging you to Homeworld... she cares for you while she lives with the Diamonds.
She even asks Steven to provide you with all the human needs.
Spinel believes she can find a new family in you and the Diamonds...
She just doesn't realize her attempts at making you both happy harm you in the end.
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Same anon asking about Shags finding obsession's box of old sketchbooks. I meant the other way around. Like for example: Shags finds a box of old sketchbooks that belonged to y/n. Sorry for the confusion. I'm autistic and it feels like my brain is eating peanut butter when I talk or write.
[OH NO. No no, that wasn't your fault, it was mine. I'm looking back on it now, I totally misread it and I instantly assumed you were talking about reader finding his sketches from previous muses. I was probably tired.]
The reaction might be a little different depending if you've told him you have an artist vein already or not.
He's going to have a small fit of euphoria if you hadn't told him before. It literally doesn't matter what's in those pages, they're tangible proof that you've at least given art a shot before and it probably won't be too hard for Shags to get you to pick it up again, this time with him.
In case you have told him you are/were an artist, he'll immediately and shamelessly ask to see your work, to the point where it might visibly get on his nerves that you refuse to show him anything- This definitely would lead to snooping, and thus finding these sketchbooks.
In either case scenario, Shags will apologize for his invasion of privacy (something he's not known for), and request that you please not hide your art from him, because it's all he wants to see. He'll also ask for permission to make sketches after yours, using them as inspiration.
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DIVIDE
III. THE SHOW PART TWO
Story Page // Words: 5.8k // TW: mentions of emotional abuse
•••
July 2018 - New York City
That afternoon, Harry stepped into the ring backstage at Madison Square Garden and boxed like he’d never boxed before.
Every jab and every punch was a release of pent up aggression caused by the looming media storm about to rain down. At 6:02 that morning, Jeffrey sent him a text message with a link to dozens of unpublished paparazzi photos from Harry’s run in with Franki - the two of them laughing, talking, hugging. One with her hand resting on his forearm, a brush that only lasted for a fraction of second, but when frozen in a photo appeared like she had been holding onto him forever.
But the one that really made Harry’s blood boil was a zoomed in shot of his soft gaze toward Franki, a moment he would’ve rather liked to stay hidden forever.
Each snap was stolen, taken out of context and twisted to make their brief visit look scandalous for gossip’s sake.
Somehow Jeffrey managed to get the publications to hold onto the photos, hoping the story would have less of an impact after he had left New York and Franki had gone back to London. But some tabloid obviously named a price the paparazzi company couldn’t refuse and the storm was inevitable.
Even though this wasn’t Harry’s first tabloid rumor rodeo, it still took him a solid thirty minutes to muster up the courage to call Franki and let her know. And once he did, a pit sunk in his stomach when the ring went straight to a full voicemail box. So he texted her instead, a good morning followed by a vague explanation and an apology. He felt awful, suddenly unsure if she would show up at the arena at all, or if that night was the last time he’d ever see her. So when the entire morning passed by and it was time for him to go to work, Harry spent his entire workout boxing his heart out, doing his best to focus only on what was in front of him.
Much to his surprise, as he was unwrapping his boxing gloves and re-tying his red bandana around his head, his phone lit up where it sat next to his water bottle and towel.
Franki: Assholes.
The smiley face emoji she sent next made him huff out a relieved laugh.
Franki: See you in an hour? Is that still okay?
With a wide smile growing from ear to ear, Harry’s thumbs tapped as fast as they could.
Harry: Of course. See you soon.
Little did he know that ten minutes away, leaned up against the bathroom vanity in her boyfriend’s apartment with her phone pressed to her thundering chest, was an anxious Franki.
She glanced at the screen again, rereading his reply before shooting off another text.
Franki: See you soon.
With a deep breath in through her nose, she stared back at her reflection in the mirror. She looked put together enough, cool calm collected on the outside. Giving herself a weak smile, she smoothed her hand over her hair before picking up her mascara to add an extra coat - the wand nearly jabbing into her eye when her phone rattled loudly against the countertop.
Emi: Your arse looks phenomenal in MY dress. Would like it back when you get home please.
Franki furrowed her brow in confusion as another text with a link to the Daily Mail came next. Without hesitation, she clicked on it and the headline glaring back at her made her stomach drop.
‘Harry Styles seen sharing a warm embrace with fashion designer Francesca Leto on the streets of New York City ahead of his sold out show at Madison Square Garden’
Harry’s vague text suddenly made sense. It was an invasion of privacy, a private interaction now exposed to millions. As Franki scrolled past the poorly written paragraphs and sneaky photos, the knot in her belly twisted, squeezing exponentially tight when she paused on a shot of two green eyes gazing at her with a certain smitten look - a fleeting look she must’ve missed in person… a look that made her heart skip a beat.
Another buzz and a text notification snapped her focus away with a blink.
Emi: Good luck to you, sister. Love you.
Franki blew out a weighted breath as she carelessly tossed her phone on the bathroom counter. She was unsure if her sister was wishing her luck with Gavin or Harry… but she really didn’t care. Regardless of the fact that she had woken up that morning in Gavin’s bed, with his t-shirt covering her torso and his arm slung over her waist, she couldn’t wait to see Harry again.
“Fucks sake,” she mumbled under her breath. “Get a fucking grip, Franki.”
And then she went back to her makeup, adding the final touches of her facade, hoping she had done a decent job of hiding her true feelings underneath.
••••
MSG was bustling with movement, by the time sound check had wrapped. Sarah was sat behind her kit, drumming a catchy uptempo beat, while the handful of people on stage happily went about their jobs.
Harry was in the middle of shimmying his shoulders in a circle around Mitch when his phone vibrated in his pocket - a smile sneaking across his face once he read the text on his screen.
Franki: This place is a maze, not exactly sure where to find you?
Completely unaware that everyone around him was now suspiciously wondering what suddenly had him so captivated, Harry took his time thinking of a clever response.
Harry: Follow the sound of my voice…
With a new skip in his step, he bounced over to the mic and tapped his finger to the metal, making sure it was on. Once an echoing thud boomed through the speakers, he leaned closer.
“Well I guess it would be nice…”
His voice came out in a squeak at first as he sang acapella, letting his eyes scan the arena.
“…if I could touch your body, I know not everybody has got a body like you.”
Behind him, Sarah started drumming along with the lyrics.
“But I’ve gotta think twice, before I give my heart away…”
And just as he finished the line, he spotted Franki walking into the room through the double doors on the opposite side of the floor.
“There she is!” He shouted dramatically into the mic. “Franki Leto everyone, suit designer extraordinaire!”
Quickly side-stepping his way around the monitors and speakers, he hopped off the front of the stage and took off in a jog down the center aisle.
She was giggling at his antics when he reached her.
“You made it!” He beamed, ignoring the rapid tempo of his heartbeat when he pulled her into a hug.
“Harry, this is so cool,” she exclaimed, pulling away before he would’ve liked and glancing around the arena.
She was stunning, effortlessly so. A casual top and fitted jeans with a swipe of strawberry red lipstick across her lips. However, Harry couldn’t help but notice that, regardless of the flawless makeup she was wearing, a sadness still lingered in her eyes. He wished he could’ve had time with her, to be able to genuinely ask what had been going on in her life. But then he remembered that wasn’t why she was here.
“Can’t wait for you to see the suit,” he lifted his hand and fiddled with the red bandana tied around his head. “The blue is going to look incredible against the lights.”
“I’m sure you will make it look incredible…” She smiled sweetly.
Harry paused, wishing her comment meant more than just an exchange with a client. And that’s when he remembered the paparazzi photos he had forced out of his head earlier in the day.
“Hey… I’m so sorry about the—”
“Franki… Leto?” Sarah interrupted, making her way down the center aisle toward them. “Hey! I went to school with your sister Emi.”
“No way!” Franki blurted, genuinely shocked by the random connection.
“This is my drummer, Sarah,” Harry cleared his throat and spoke up as Sarah and Franki shook hands.
“Is Emi here with you?” Sarah questioned. “I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“Oh, no,” Franki shook her head. “She’s not. I’m here with my boyfriend. He, uh, actually ran into Kacey Musgraves out in the corridor.” She jutted her thumb toward the exit. “I guess they know each other from a music video he acted in a few years ago. It seems the world is very small!”
“Oh wow!” Harry awkwardly shifted his weight, suddenly anxious knowing he was about to meet Franki’s boyfriend.
“Well tell Emi I said hello,” Sarah smiled before taking backwards steps toward the stage.
“You okay?” Franki sideeyed Harry. “You’ve got this look in your eye…”
Harry blinked, hoping she couldn’t detect the hint of jealousy now pricking at his skin. “Yeah, I’m fine!”
And then they held each other's gaze steady, everything around them suddenly standing still as the buzz of the room faded into background noise. Neither one of them knew exactly what to say even though a million words lingered on the tips of their tongues.
But their reality quickly seeped in and the moment was cut short when Franki’s eyes shifted and focused just over Harry's shoulder.
“Oh! There’s Gavin!”
Harry turned to look, watching a man with dark brown hair walking into the room.
All at once it was as if a wrecking ball swung down from the ceiling and pummeled him over, knocking every ounce of breath from his lungs. His head started to spin, confusion and shock now rushing through his entire body.
Gavin was the man from the restaurant. The one a few tables over… with a woman who wasn’t Franki.
“Harry, this is Gavin,” Franki beamed, looping her arm through the crook of Gavin’s elbow and leaning into his side. “Gavin, this is Harry.”
“Hey man,” Gavin held out his hand.
Fuck. Harry zeroed in on the hand suspended in the air in front of him. The hand that was wrapped around another woman just a few days before.
“Harry?”
Franki’s voice yanked him out of his spiral, his wide eyes darting up to hers.
Just then, before Harry could say anything, Gavin dropped his hand and pulled his ringing phone from his pocket, examining the screen with furrowed brows.
“Babe, sorry I need to grab this.”
And before he hurried out of the room, he pressed a kiss to the corner of Franki’s mouth and then disappeared back through the double doors.
“Um, uh…” Harry’s throat had gone completely dry trying to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to say. “Fra—“
“Sorry about that,” she interrupted, her cheeks now bright red. “I’m just gonna go check on him…” And then she followed in his footsteps.
Harry was flabbergasted… his heart completely broken for his friend. The last thing he wanted was the knowledge that someone was being cheated on, let alone Franki of all people. With his eyes zoned out on the very top row of the arena, he was so deep into his spiraling thoughts that he didn’t hear Kacey calling his name.
“H, you okay?” She asked concerned, finally managing to grab his attention.
Harry blew out a harsh stream of air, thinking about how to respond when Kacey continued.
“Hey… do you know why that guy Gavin is here?”
Harry’s head immediately snapped her way.
“Ye—yeah,” he stuttered. “He’s dating my friend Franki. She designed my suit for tonight.” The rapidly growing lump in his throat had nearly closed off his airway, his words now leaving his mouth with force. “Why?”
Hearing the intensity in his voice, Kacey’s eyeline awkwardly fidgeted away from his.
“Why do you ask?” Harry urged.
“I don’t know,” she paused, pushing her shoulders back. “Was kinda surprised to see him here.”
Growing impatient, Harry’s gaze ricocheted between Kacey and the door Franki had just left through.
“Why, Kacey?”
She looked him directly in the eye then, a sorrowful expression on her face, and shrugged.
“It’s been a few years, I don’t know, maybe he’s changed. He’s just… not the greatest guy from what I remember…”
Harry’s feet were moving before his head could process anything from the last ten minutes. His wide strides feverishly moved through the double doors and down a corridor that curved around to another… and then another. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, but he moved quickly, his heart now pounding in his ears, thumping in beat with every hurried step.
And that’s when he heard a voice - an angry voice, even in its lowered, hushed tone.
“What the fuck, Franki? You knew these photos were out there and you came here anyway! You’re always making me look like a complete idiot!”
Slowing as he rounded the corner, Harry’s stomach plummeted to the ground when he saw Franki backed up against a wall by Gavin who was aggressively pointing in her face.
“Franki?” Harry blurted without hesitation, his face going white when her frightened eyes darted to his. It took him everything not to run over and force Gavin away from her. But he stopped when Gavin stepped back slowly, tilting his head to the side before squaring his broad shoulders with Harry.
“Harry—“ Franki’s timid voice shook. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Harry studied Franki’s demeanor, the way her arms were folded across her body, holding herself tight… the way her chest visibly lifted and then fell with every heavy breath. And then there were her eyes, the dull shade of brown that had him so intrigued, suddenly all making sense.
“I think you should leave, mate,” Harry spoke sternly, doing whatever he could to keep his rapidly growing anger at bay.
Gavin scoffed a humored laugh, a smile spreading wide to taunt Harry. “Mate? I’m not your mate.”
Harry swallowed thickly, keeping his eyes on Franki who was still stood against the concrete wall. “She clearly wants you to leave, so I’m asking you to leave.”
Gavin laughed again, taking two steps closer to Harry. “You think you’re a big shot? You think you can get fucking papped on the street corner touching my girl… and we’re just gonna be mates?”
Harry snapped.
“Oh that’s thick of you to—“
Leaning forward, Harry was about to give into every ounce of temptation simmering underneath the surface, when a deep voice interrupted behind him.
“We good here, H?”
His head of security appeared out of nowhere, planting his feet next to Harry.
“Daniel,” Harry instantly mirrored his most trusted security guard’s calm demeanor. “Can you see him out, please?”
Gavin chuckled, amused enough to forfeit, holding his hands up in the air.
“No need,” he scoffed. “Let’s go, Franki.”
Harry’s protective eyes hadn’t budged from Franki since the moment he found her, watching the way she was still completely frozen in place.
“C’mon Franki…” Gavin urged, looking back at her.
Franki dropped her head, but kept her feet in place, ignoring his persistent request. And when she looked up, she made a point to lock her gaze with Harry’s… a silent, but loud statement, one she had been desperate to make for ages.
Gavin glanced between Harry and Franki and huffed.
“Oh… okay. Well, enjoy your night with the big time rockstar, you’ll come crawling back tomorrow,” he spat and took off, storming past Harry and Daniel without looking back.
Harry didn't wait to see if he was gone before rushing over to where Franki stood, lifting his hands to brush her hair away from her face and then tenderly resting his hands on her arms.
“Shit, Franki, are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Um, no…” she mumbled, nearly about to crumble to the floor if Harry hadn’t been holding onto her. “I— I shouldn’t be here. I need to leave—“
“Okay, you’re shaking,” Harry threw all caution to the wind and fully wrapped his arms around her, carefully tucking her into his side as he started moving down the corridor. “Daniel, can you have my car pulled around now please? Shit, tell Jeffrey I’ll be back in an hour. Tell him I’m just going to my apartment real quick.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Everything was a rushed blur from that point on, dodging people and maneuvering out back doorways until they were in a parking garage and Harry was helping Franki into the backseat of a chauffeured blacked out suburban.
The New York City streets zipped by and after a brief ride they pulled into a different underground parking garage before Harry opened the car door and offered Franki his hand as she stepped down.
As he leaned through the open passenger window to talk to his driver, her stomach churned, feeling too many emotions all at once - guilt, frustration, relief… but mostly embarrassment.
“Harry…” She winced when he turned back toward her. “You shouldn’t be dealing with this, with me, right now. You have a show and—“
“Stop,” he reached out and squeezed her hand, gently tugging her toward the building’s lift. “This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
The elevator ride was silent on the way up, just the ding of every floor that passed by until the doors opened and Harry stepped out to guide them to his front door.
“I have to warn you,” he grinned coyly as he jostled his key into the lock. “It’s pretty boring inside, I’m not here often. It’s just nice to have a familiar place whenever I’m in town.”
But when he swung the door open and they walked inside, it was anything but boring, her eyes immediately noticing the warm hues and eclectic art hung on the walls.
“Can I make you a cup of tea?” He offered, dropping his keys on the nearest counter.
Franki nodded and mouthed a ‘please’.
As Harry fumbled around in his kitchen, she made her way to the massive windows in his living room that looked out over the city. She watched the white puffy clouds move through the blue sky, blown to and fro by whatever breeze was pushing them around. She focused intently, studying them like art, doing anything to avoid the mess of emotions swimming around in her head.
“Here you go…”
Harry drew her attention away from the sky to where he was standing on the opposite side of his sofa, holding an endearing smiley face mug her way.
“Thank you,” she grinned, moving around the sofa and then taking a seat.
He waited a moment, wanting to be respectful, but also hoping to understand and be a listening ear if she wanted one.
“So…” He paused another beat. “What exactly happened… with Gavin?”
Franki tipped her head back with a sigh, passing the hot mug between her hands. “His brother called and told him about the articles from today. The paparazzi photos of you and I pushed him over the edge.”
Harry squinted and scrunched his nose as he sat down besides her. “Shit… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“Trust me. You have nothing to apologize for.”
Noticing the heaviness etched into the lines across her forehead, he softened his voice. “Is he always like that?”
She laughed. “Like what? An asshole?” It was obvious she was trying to use humor to mask the weight of the situation. And Harry knew it, looking back at her with understanding.
Seeing the sympathetic shade of green, Franki sucked in a deep breath and let it out.
“No, he hasn’t always been like that. In the beginning, he was amazing. He had just finished promoting his first lead role in a tv series and his career was thriving.”
She paused to sort through her thoughts, trying to pinpoint exactly when things went to shit as she lifted the cup of tea, letting the steam waft over her skin.
“And then it… wasn’t.”
Harry watched her intently, taking in every word she had said, while also ignoring the perpetual buzz of his cell phone going off in his pocket.
“Do you need to get that?” She let out a laugh, grateful for the welcomed interruption.
“No,” Harry blindly reached into his pocket, clicking his phone to silent and then placing it beside him on the couch. “Please, go on… If you’d like...”
Franki took a sip from the mug and then set it down on the coffee table.
“Well, I guess what it all boils down to is that my company, my career, was thriving. I was so busy I couldn’t make it over to New York to visit as much. And the jealousy just got out of hand. Well that and… he’s clearly a dick, so…”
Harry huffed out a quiet laugh, dropping his gaze to his hands and then looking back up at her with sincere curiosity between his brows.
“Why are you still with him?”
She blinked hard, asking herself the same question inside… a question that no one in her life had the courage to ask her before.
And all she could do was shrug.
Harry didn’t move a muscle as her vague response sunk in, wishing she could see herself the way he saw her. And that she could see Gavin for the snake that he was.
“Well,” he shook his head. “You deserve way better. That’s for certain.”
Harry knew deep down inside that he needed to tell Franki what he knew about Gavin, what he had seen in the restaurant. But as he looked at her, the girl who was strong and confident and witty now looking fragile and broken, he had no clue how to form a sentence that would deliver that ultimate blow.
“And what about your relationship?” Franki spoke up, catching Harry off guard when she switched the focus onto him. “Are you happy?”
Her question was simple. Straightforward. And it should’ve had a simple and straightforward answer. But the truth was… it didn’t.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” he swallowed hard, reciprocating the raw honesty she had just given to him. “We play games, I guess. The trust is hard when I’m gone.”
Franki lifted her eyebrows. “Well,” she stated simply. “You deserve better than that.”
A smile lifted his lips only for a split second when Harry’s curiosity got the best of him.
“Franki,” he sighed, shifting his weight slightly closer to her. “You’re not going to go back to him are you?”
She winced at his question, her eyes narrowing while she twisted her fingers into knots. And then a tear rolled down her cheek and she was quick to brush it away.
“I don’t know how I could. Especially now that someone else knows the truth.”
Harry gulped. He had to tell her… but every word he tried to speak got lodged in his throat.
“Thank you for helping me tonight, Harry.” She placed her hand on his knee. “I owe you.”
“Trust me, you don’t,” he blew out a nervous breath.
Then the room fell quiet until Harry mustered up the courage to look her in the eye again. And when he did, he noticed a smudge of mascara under her eyelid and couldn’t help but smile.
“Um, you’ve got a bit of…” he motioned under his eye and then pointed at hers.
Ducking her head shyly, she wiped her thumb across the skin, but was unsuccessful.
“Here… let me.” Harry grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table before scooting closer and dabbing it beneath her lashes while his other hand gently held her cheek. And even though it was barely a brush, a spark ignited where his fingers touched her skin, sending a trickle of goosebumps down Franki’s spine.
All at once, when their eyes locked, her heart started beating out of her chest, wondering if his was doing the same. And like a moth to a flame, she slowly leaned closer… and closer, until his minty breath was fanning over her face with every rise and fall of his chest.
Harry didn’t dare move, unable to break away from her gaze. Not a single care in the world could pull his focus away from the gold that decorated her irises, a sight he had only dreamed of seeing up close. And now that she was there, merely inches away, he wasn’t about to let her move away.
Everything else faded from the foreground at that moment. Seconds could’ve passed, or hours, time ticking away with the cadence of two thundering hearts beating in sync. Unable to stop the pull of fate, or gravity, Franki swiped her tongue across her lips and leaned in.
Harry’s eyelids fell shut when her mouth found his, exploring slowly at first before realizing how perfectly their lips fit. And when he mirrored her movement, his bottom lip nudging hers apart so he could taste her better, he was no longer able to make sense of what was up or down. All he could feel was Franki’s soft mouth molding to his.
She was sunk, completely lost in the moment, knowing what his lips felt like, how he tasted. And she wanted more.
But when a quiet knock on the front door had Harry tilting his head away, everything came to a screeching halt.
“Oh my god…” Franki gasped quietly, her hand springing up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was so stupid.”
“It’s fine,” he placed a reassuring hand on her thigh. “Hey… it’s fine.”
But Franki was already spiraling, quickly standing to move away from his touch.
“I, just— god, you have a girlfriend and I fully just leaned in and—“
“Franki—”
“I can’t get anything right, I’m so sorry.”
Another knock against the front door came and Harry looked down at his illuminated phone screen - missed call after text message after more missed calls.
“No, I’m sorry—“ he sighed in frustration. “I— I need to get back to the arena. Everyone’s losing their shit. Um, please take your time here. Make yourself at home. I’ll have my driver come back to bring you to the show. You can sit with my mates, I know they’d love to meet you.”
But the look in Franki’s eyes made an uneasiness settle in his stomach.
“Hey…” he reached out and ran his fingertips down her forearm. “Please come.”
A third knock tore their eyes away from each other.
Harry squeezed his hands into fists before moving across the room to answer. His driver, who was likely being bombarded by all of his management team to bring him back to MSG, stood on the other side. And just before he followed him, Harry glanced at Franki. She gave him a small smile and he reciprocated it before closing the door behind him.
Harry spent the next handful of hours praying with all his might that Franki would show up to the arena. He anticipated her walking through the door to whatever room he happened to be sitting in - his dressing room. His hair and makeup room. His backstage dining room. The corridor to the stage.
But she never did.
And when it was showtime, and Harry was dressed in his blue suit with his feet firmly planted behind the mic stand, he begged the universe to let her be sitting in the seat on the first level just to the right of the stage - the one he had picked out specifically for her.
But when the screen was all the way up and Only Angel’s drum beat had dropped, it took Harry merely seconds to find out Franki wasn’t there either.
In her place, however, was a familiar face - a face he didn’t expect to see. His girlfriend, for all intents and purposes, was beaming back at him. He had no idea she had planned to come, she being someone who always enjoyed surprises. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks and Harry was embarrassed to admit he hadn’t thought much about her during that time.
Brushing off his shock, he sent her a smile and a wave before bounding over to the opposite side of the stage. It took him a while to find his way back to that row of seats, doing what he could to hide his disappointment that the wrong person happened to be sitting there.
From that point on, he made a point to put on the show of his life, burying every bit of his true self and bringing out his most impressive, hilarious and enthusiastic stage persona. That was what he did best.
But when Kiwi was done and the whale had vanished into thin air, confusion punched him square in the gut when he stopped in front of that side of the stage to say his thank you’s to the crowd. Because there, next to his girlfriend, was another man who had moved close enough to wrap his arms around her shoulders and press his mouth to her ear.
Harry’s feet were moving to the exit before he finished making his rounds to thank the entire arena. He couldn’t get backstage fast enough, feverishly pacing from wall to wall once he was tucked away in his dressing room. And when a soft knock on the door had her poking her head inside, Harry whipped around with his arms out to his sides.
“Who the fuck was that?” He blurted the second she walked into the room.
She was a deer caught in headlights before her expression shifted into something else… something sorrowful yet relieved.
“Harry….”
“I can’t do this anymore,” he confessed boldly, keeping his face unreadable, prideful, even though deep down inside he felt the same relief as her. “It’s over. This is done.”
She composed herself then, a perfect poker face minus a tensed jaw. “It’s been over for months, Harry. You just needed to admit it.”
They stood on opposite sides of the room for quite some time, neither one of them bothering to look at the other until she forfeited and turned to leave.
“Have a great trip to DC,” she stopped before disappearing through the door. “Take care of yourself, baby.”
And then she was gone.
•••
That night, after Harry returned home to his apartment, he poured himself a glass of tequila and settled on his couch in the same place that Franki had sat earlier that day. Resting the glass’s rim on his lower lip, doing whatever he could to ignore the lingering memory of Franki’s mouth pressed there instead, he sorted through his overwhelming emotions.
His relationship was officially over. But if he were being honest, that’s not what bothered him the most. Instead he was frustrated that Franki decided not to come to the show, selfishly so, but he was also worried about where she had gone. After swallowing nearly the entire glass in one go, letting the golden liquid burn down his throat, he finally buried his pettiness and texted Franki.
Harry: Are you okay?
To his surprise, three dots danced across his screen immediately.
Franki: I’m fine. I’m at the airport. Managed to get on a flight back to London tonight.
Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, grateful that she wasn’t with Gavin. Before he could respond, another text appeared.
Franki: You’re a good friend, Harry. Thank you for checking on me.
Franki: But, I need some space for a while. I need to figure some stuff out in my life and I need to do it on my own.
It hurt to read the words on his screen, wishing he could be the one to save Franki from her heartache. But he understood. And regardless of the fact that he knew the truth about Gavin, he also knew the way his heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces seeing his girlfriend with another man. So he made a final decision, knowing he didn’t have the strength to do that to Franki when she was already so broken.
His thumbs tapped a quick response, one he sincerely meant.
Harry: Take care of yourself, Franki. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.
And with a heavy sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut, taking in his pathetic reality…
He was alone. And he was truly no good alone.
•••
February 2019 - London
Emi counted the floors as they passed, one after another until the lift was opening to the top floor of the building where the company’s new London office was located. Stuffing her cold hands in her warm coat pockets, she took a few steps forward until she was pulling open the double glass doors to Leto Designs, Inc.
"Hey Emi!" The receptionist greeted her excitedly the second she walked in.
"Mornin…” Emi grinned, noticing that the young girl appeared to be chomping at the bit to tell her something. “You alright?"
With a big toothy smile, she exclaimed, "There's some exciting mail on your desk!"
“Oh?” Emi’s brow quirked. “Well out with it, you know I don’t like surprises!”
“You and Franki are invited to the Met Gala!”
She stopped dead in her tracks and smirked. “Well fuck me! That is bloody exciting. Does Franki know yet, is she in her office?”
Emi continued on toward her office, glancing back over her shoulder when the receptionist hesitated to answer.
“I, uh, haven’t seen her today…”
“Fuck.. me…” Emi repeated quietly, muttering her annoyance under her breath.
Sighing heavily, she unbuttoned her jacket as she moved, rounding the corner into her office and heading straight to her desk.
She threw her jacket over the back of her chair and pulled out her phone before dropping her bag on the ground.
The two light turquoise envelopes sitting the very center of her work space were beautifully addressed to Emilia and Francesca Leto from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Franki had been tirelessly building their company’s relationship with Vogue, with Anna Wintour, a task years in the making until everything came to a rolling stop after the previous summer. Emi was honestly surprised that they still managed to make the invite list.
Damnit Franki… She sighed in her head, her heart now unbearably heavy.
Turning her focus from the envelopes to her phone, Emi tapped on her sister's name and pressed it to her ear. It only rang once before going to voicemail.
“Franki— I swear to god you better be on your way in. You’ve been missing meetings left and right and I’ve had to cover for you. Just—” She paused, swallowing her annoyance with the lump in her throat. “Just get your shit together, Franki, and get over here.”
Emi was about to hang up before she decided to throw a hail mary, hoping the news would be just the splash of cold water Franki needed.
“Oh… and guess who’s invited to this year's Met Gala?”
•••
•••
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I would love love love to hear your thoughts. I hope you enjoyed the pain it. A lot of love to my girls @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays forever grateful for them.
Taglist: @sweetwanderlust05 @dayxoxodreamer @very-berry-harry @didhewinkback @thurhomish
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Okay so I’ve always had mixed feelings about P&T, but honestly? I think what Pam is doing right now is absolute bullshit and kind of messy. I feel guilty for saying that because I know she has experienced a great amount of trauma from a disgusting invasion of her privacy. However, she’s also being dishonest. She’s saying she didn’t know a thing about it until she was seeing ads for it, and that’s simply not the truth. She was pretty publicly displeased with it before it even went into production, and then while it was in production. People did try to contact her about the show and she ignored them and refused to take their calls. Lily asked on multiple occasions to speak with her and was denied and ALSO wrote her a letter. And if I’m not mistaken, didn’t Pam, herself, recently (and very pettily) say that she still hasn’t opened the letter? So…which is it, girl? Did no one contact you, or did you ignore them? Pick one.
And, frankly, to carry on like this about a show that painted you in a very favorable light is kind of ridiculous. I’m not saying it’s perfect because things like showing Lily (as Pam) ass naked, making Tommy talk to his penis, and having them recreate sounds from the tape were completely unnecessary and didn’t add anything to the series. However, I do think that it accomplished something really important: it humanized Pam for a lot of people who didn’t know much about her, or who had previously judged her unfairly.
I get not wanting to watch the show because there are definitely scenes that probably would be triggering for her. But, I’m sorry, P&T was not scathing. It was very pro-Pam, and in a lot of ways read as, “we owe this woman a fucking apology.”She didn’t have to watch it, but she also can’t act like it ruined her life all over again. No one walked away from watching that show and said the same thing the public was saying about her 30 years ago. We walked away wanting justice for the woman we’d just watched go through actual hell for 8 episodes.
Okay, this I can get behind. I agree with you. Even though she never really said anything about the show (it was mainly her friend that spoke out), I agree that it was very pro-Pam so she shouldn’t freak out over it. I just hate that it was Lily and Seb that got all the hats over it and not the producers.
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#my roommmate’s guy friends . just walked into our apartment last night .#and didnt tell her that they were comjng over#they jumped the fence of our apartment complex#snd walked into out apartment#and made themself at home#and stsrted drinking our beer#and they refuse to apologize for this invasion of privacy#bc it was sk scary for my roommates to just have all thesd people just Walk into our place#OUR place.#my rooommate was in the shower and they kept barging into her room#it is safe to say they arent welcome in our place anymore#earth is mobile ! / ooc.
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LEGO JOKER
Platonic & Romantic Headcanons – Yandere
WARNING: terrorism, references to violence, implied death, incarceration.
A.N. - Two Jokers down, however many more to go.
PLATONIC:
The problem begins with Joker shifting the venue for his crimes to the area of Gotham City in which his friend lives. Local banks that they visited a day prior are robbed, and the chases between Joker and Batman almost always pass through their neighbourhood.
As Joker directs the lesser criminals to terrorize other sections of Gotham and preoccupy the GCPD, he exploits the scattered and overworked police force to pull his friend into the middle of his crimes.
Privacy is denied as every step they take outside their home becomes a target for paparazzi, reporters and detectives. Joker adds fuel to the conspiracy theories that strangle his friend's social life by strolling to their door with Harley for impromptu slumber parties, using any sympathy they may have for him and promising not to intrude again.
In addition to breaking his promise and returning the next night, this fanning of the invasion is further aggravated by his tendency to chat with them while making demands of Gotham at the same time.
As long as they are on good terms with Joker, his friend is protected from a majority of crimes. Many of the rogues, such as Bane and Two-Face, view them as a member of the crime family, and the average business and person knows better than to get themselves hunted by the infamous underbelly of Gotham City for cutting a paycheck or picking a pocket.
If his friend is ignoring him or antagonizing him for his life choices, however, Joker allows them to fall into dangerous situations and refuses to help unless they apologize or sufficiently praise him.
Batman has little faith in the goodness of anyone who associates with Joker, and his initial conclusion paints the clown's friend as just another criminal. Any protests against this notion are deemed to be lies, with the vigilante suspecting coercion only if they are an esteemed member of the community or have known him personally for a long time.
Joker actively sabotages their plead for innocence by venting to them about Batman in full view of other people and inviting them to join his latest crime when he knows a superhero or batch of civilians are witnessing it.
ROMANTIC:
For all his many trials in evil, Joker has a unique sense of fairness and abhors a blatant show of disrespect for the few people he thinks are more than just tools for chaos. The clown views his extremist methods as admirable when he goes beyond the limits of the law and the moral constraints of heroes to avenge his partner.
Once the cameras start rolling, he dedicates the crime to them on live television. The definition of his vengeance ranges anywhere from trapping the offender in a building rigged to explode to taking the last parachute and abandoning them in an aeroplane with no pilot.
By the end of the same day, news outlets across the city latch onto the story and dramatize it in the form of asking citizens to give their reactions in polls and interviewing superheroes for insight. The Gotham Gazette floods the public with speculative pieces about the relationship, which Joker reads avidly and considers undeniable evidence of his perceived intimacy with his partner.
The links are inconsistent at best and specious at worst, drawing a variety of fantastical correlations between their daily activities and the details of the clown's recent escapades.
Unless his partner has powerful allies in the local government, there is a high probability that this will cost their job. All the fearmongering and news propaganda sink their reputation until the GCPD is threatening to arrest them on suspicion of aiding and abetting a known criminal.
Joker comes to them on the day of their termination and offers asylum in his hideout, revelling in their need for shelter and a new livelihood.
If Gordan or Barbara succeeds and his partner lands in Arkham, Joker surrenders just for the sake of claiming the cell beside theirs. The guards and warden are instructed to keep the two of them apart as much as possible and at all costs, but this only encourages Joker to track them in the recreation yard and stimulate prison riots if they are placed in solitary confinement.
Once he has an idea for his next crime or his partner expresses discontent with the environment, Joker orchestrates a prison break and spills back into Gotham.
Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!
#Yandere#Yandere x You#Yandere x Reader#Yandere x Y/N#Yandere Imagines#Yandere Headcanons#Yandere DC#Yandere Joker#DC x Reader#Joker x Reader#The Joker#Joker#LEGO Joker#Batman#LEGO Batman#The LEGO Batman Movie#LEGO Batman Movie#TLBM#DC Universe#DC#DCU#Imagines#X Reader#Reader Insert#Gender Neutral Reader#Yandere Writing#Fanfiction
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Pretty Please
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: Reader hears something surprising from her next door neighbor, and it throws her off.
Category: Smut 18+ (masturbation, thigh riding, penetrative sex, oral sex-male and female receiving, semi-rough sex, dom!Spencer)
Word Count: 6.9k
Warnings: Nothing except the smut listed above and strong language. As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in the warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!
PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE
***
There's no way she heard that right.
In fact, she was pretty sure she'd made it up. She was tired, delirious, and she'd only imagined hearing what she heard.
Right?
Just to be sure, Y/N sat up in bed, put her ear against the wall just above the headboard, and listened, concentrating as hard as she could to confirm or deny.
And sure enough, the next thing she heard was, "Fuck, yes!"
It was muffled, definitely not as loud as it could have been, but if things continued the way she thought they would, it was going to get louder. Unless, of course, her neighbor was mindful, knowing that someone could probably hear what was going on. Though, for some reason Y/N doubted that.
Just to be extra sure what was happening, she stayed glued to the wall, listening carefully.
There was some muffled movement, but it could have been just about anything. Nonetheless, her heart was beating so fast, and it beat even faster when she heard what came next.
A loud female moan, unmistakable and utterly pornographic, made Y/N close her eyes immediately, her heart practically jumping out of her chest. Her first thought was Okay, he's watching porn. Everyone does that. Not without headphones, but it's completely normal and I should stop eavesdropping and go about my own life because this is an invasion of privacy.
Her second thought was ...Oh.
Because she was dead wrong.
The next thing that sounded through the walls was, "Yes, Spencer, just like that!"
Y/N's eyes shot open and she almost had a heart attack.
Her next thought was Good for him...
She and her neighbor hadn't really gotten to know each other that well. All she knew was that he had a job that kept him away from home quite a bit, either from travel or just late nights. He was shy and rarely talked to her when they met in the halls or in the parking garage, or even in the laundry room. Which is why it was so surprising to Y/N that he was having sex—and decent sex at that, from what she could hear—right next door.
Not that it would have been impossible for him to get it, of course. He was hot as hell, and it shouldn't have surprised Y/N as much as it did that she was hearing what she was hearing. It had just never happened before.
She was about to let it be, glad that her neighbor seemed to be having some fun, and it truly wasn't any of her business what he decided to do in his spare time. Though, the next thing she heard sent her into a tailspin.
"You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?"
Y/N almost hit her head against the wall. Instinctually her legs crossed, as if it would prevent her from being turned on. Which was stupid, considering every nerve in her body was on fire hearing those words come from Spencer Reid's mouth.
No fucking way, Y/N thought, slowly shifting her position on the bed.
It was a stupid idea. Probably one of the dumbest things she's ever done. But she closed her eyes, and as the woman's moans became louder through the walls, every slap of skin on skin getting louder with them, Y/N's right hand drifted under the waistband of her panties and got to work.
She couldn't help imagining what was going on. And it was rare that she could get off on just imagination alone, but this time she had the helpful addition of sound to aid her. Every time the woman moaned Spencer's name, she moved her fingers faster, alternating between rubbing her clit and completely fingering herself. And sometimes Y/N would make inevitable tiny whimpers of her own, careful not to give herself away.
She was almost to her climax when she heard it. The thing that pushed her over the edge.
"Fuck, you take it so well, pretty girl."
That one sentence, added to the impending orgasm Y/N was experiencing and the fact that she was picturing Spencer's face so clearly in her head, caused her to let out a loud moan and throw her head back against the wall with a loud thud.
So many feelings happened at once. Pain, because fuck, hitting her head on the wall without expecting it hurt like hell. Pleasure immediately after, because despite everything, her fingers stayed working, instinctively nursing herself through her orgasm. And finally embarrassment, because she definitely shouldn't have been eavesdropping on her neighbor's sexual encounters and she's positive they'd heard her intrusion.
All noises ceased for a total of two seconds before Y/N came down from her high and the sex next door resumed like nothing had happened.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck, no, Y/N thought as she scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Her head still hurt from hitting it against the wall, but that was the least of her concerns. More than anything she wanted to crawl in a hole and never return. And sure, maybe there was a small chance Spencer and his.. friend hadn't heard you, but it was practically impossible. There was no way they hadn't heard it.
Y/N peed and washed her hands, tapping her foot nervously against the cool tile the whole time. Eventually she calmed her breathing and decided that she'd just have to live with it. I mean, it's not like I'm friends with him anyway, she thought. I barely see him enough as it is, and I can ignore him like there's no tomorrow and nothing will change. Right?
And so she washed her face and got ready for bed, trying desperately not to think about how badly she'd embarrassed herself.
And then as she curled under the covers (with earbuds in just in case) she thought, Maybe I'll make him some muffins tomorrow and say I'm sorry.
The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was Spencer's face.
***
"What's wrong? Can't take it?"
She practically burned with pleasure, every inch of her body overly sensitive and completely fucked out. But she'd let him have whatever he wanted.
She cried. She tried to tell him that yes, she could take it. But tears and strangled moans were all she could manage as he continued to fuck her into the mattress.
"You gonna cum?" He asked, like she could form words.
She cried out again in answer.
He leaned forward, wiping tears from her face, and whispered, "Go ahead, pretty girl."
That was the last thing Y/N heard before she woke up, eyes shooting open and hands clutching the sheets so tightly her fingers ached. She let them go and tried to wiggle them back to life, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath.
"Oh, dear Lord," she muttered, stretching out and realizing that the past 10 hours of her life were going to haunt her for a long time.
I'm gonna have to move, aren't I, she thought sarcastically, sitting up slowly and rubbing her eyes. Though, right now it sounded like a good idea.
Y/N gathered some clothes and went to the shower, refusing to think about last night or the dream she'd woken up from. Instead she lasered all her attention to thoroughly washing her hair, body, and face. By the time the water was running cold, she stepped out, dried off and got dressed, brushing her teeth and then leaving the bathroom to turn on the coffee pot.
Before she could, there was a knock on the door.
Oh no, was her first thought, because naturally the first thing you do at any minor event after severely embarrassing yourself is panic. What if that's him? He's going to get mad at me for eavesdropping. The first thing I'm going to do when I see him is blush and panic. Fuck.
Y/N thought about ignoring it for a second. For all Spencer knew, she could still be sleeping. She could have fled the country immediately after giving herself away. She could have died from a heart attack, literally embarrassing herself to death. She could ha—
Knock knock knock.
"Shit," Y/N muttered to herself, adjusting her freshly-washed hair and praying she looked okay. If it really was Spencer at her door, she wanted to at least look like she was moving on with her life and not thinking about last night every waking second.
She ran to the door, took a deep breath and opened it, sure enough revealing Spencer Reid in her doorway, wearing a kind smile and holding a small something in his hand.
"Oh... Spencer, hi," Y/N said, pretending to be happy. Not that she wasn't ever happy to see him, but today of all days was most definitely not a good time. She only prayed he wouldn't get mad at her for eavesdropping.
"Hi, Y/N. Sorry for being here so early, but I, uh... thought you might need this."
He handed her what was in his hand, and it rattled, confusing her. She took it and flipped it over in her hands, studying the bottle.
"Advil?"
"Yeah. Seems like you hit your head on the wall pretty hard last night, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Her stomach dropped. "No."
"No... You're not okay, or no, you don't need it?"
Heat rushed to Y/N's cheeks and all she could manage was another, "No."
She only sounded slightly terrified.
But before Spencer could say anything else, Y/N looked up at him and almost started to cry. "I'm so so so sorry, Spencer, I didn't mean to hear, it just happened, and I couldn't help it, and I tried to be quiet, I really did, but it just slipped, and I feel really bad, I'm so sorry, I—"
"Whoa, whoa, Y/N, slow down. It's okay, really," he laughed. "I'm not upset or anything, I just... Truthfully I feel kind of bad for not thinking of anyone hearing. I didn't realize the walls were so thin, and had I known I probably would have... Gone about things differently. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
Y/N's heart raced, but she was even more shocked by the fact that he was apologizing. "Spencer, don't be sorry. I embarrassed myself, really. I shouldn't have been listening anyway— what you do in your apartment isn't any of my business, and I messed up."
He smiled and shuffled on his feet, trying to avoid looking at you but failing. In the end he shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. "Well, in any case, I really do hope your head doesn't hurt too bad. That was a loud thump."
Y/N laughed nervously, turning the bottle over in her hands while looking at the floor. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Feels better now that I've slept it off... Thank you, though. I... I appreciate it."
"You're welcome."
She looked up at him and almost started crying again, still completely embarrassed over the whole ordeal. In an attempt to not cry, she cleared her throat. "Um, I was just going put on some coffee if you... wanted to come in? I can make some eggs or something too, if you're hungry. Y'know, to say I'm sorry?"
Spencer looked like he was about to tell her not to be sorry again, but she gave him a look that said don't you dare, and he settled on nodding instead. "Sure, I'd like that."
***
"Wow. These are great."
Y/N smiled, watching Spencer eat a bite of the eggs she'd made him. "Thank you. It's a family recipe. Nothing too special, but my mom always made them for my brother and I before our first day of school every year."
He smiled. "That's nice. Really, they're great. Thank you."
"Yeah, no problem... Look, again, I really am so—"
"Y/N, stop. It's okay, really. It... happens. You don't have to be sorry."
She nodded before taking a sip of her coffee. Spencer ate some more of his eggs and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, before it got completely unbearable.
She didn't want to keep bringing it up, but something forced the words out of her mouth. "So, your... guest... Is she your girlfriend?"
It took Spencer a minute to realize what she said, but eventually he cleared his throat, some color forming on his cheeks. "Oh, uh... no. No, I'm single. She and I had just met at a bar downtown. I don't usually do that. Go to bars, I mean. Though I suppose I don't really have one night stands all that often, either, but my co-workers and I were out last night after a... pretty rough day at work, and... before I left we met at the bar and it just kind of went on from there."
"Oh... Well, I... I'm sorry work was rough. Seems like you... handled it, though. Got over it... I mean, like, you knew how to take your mind off of it, or make it better or whatever."
Y/N froze after she said it. Immediately after, she shook her head. "God, I'm sorry. That was dumb. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, I get what you mean, it's okay, really," Spencer said quickly, seemingly amused. "It, uh... It really did help. You know, sex is a good stress reliever. The endorphins it releases puts you in a better mood and calms you down, and studies show that regular sexual activity can aid in decreasing high blood pressure during stressful situations."
"I... didn't know that. Sounds helpful. Especially with your job, I imagine."
He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "What about you? Is your job stressful?"
Y/N shrugged, kind of glad that the conversation moved away from sexual nature. Though, she supposed the reason it was there in the first place was kind of her fault. In any case, she told Spencer about her job. "It's not as stressful as other jobs can be, but I just got a promotion so all the responsibility is a little daunting, I guess."
"I'm sure you're fine," he complimented, setting his mug down. "Though... If you do ever find yourself beginning to buckle under the stress of your job, sex is a good way to keep your spirits up."
It was a joke. A reference to their conversation, the whole reason they were in this moment in the first place. So why did Y/N respond with, "What, is that your way of offering?"
I'm just full of stupid shit lately, aren't I, she thought, immediately hating herself for saying it. Things were going well, and Spencer didn't seem mad or annoyed after the whole incident, and now she was positive she'd made everything worse.
But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth next.
"Maybe it is."
She looked up at him and saw that he was completely serious. His eyes bore into her, staring her down like he was trying to compel her to say something, to do something, to put her under his spell. Y/N swallowed, trying to speak, but nothing would come out.
Oh, now you have nothing to say? Good going, Y/N...
Nevertheless, he waited. His eyes remained glued on her, tilting his head to the side and raising his eyebrows as if to ask her, well?
Eventually, she settled on, "You mean it?"
Spencer nodded slowly, staring at her with an intensity she hadn't experienced in forever. "Only if you want to."
Immediately Y/N thought back to last night. His nasty words replayed in her ears over and over again, repeating themselves like a mantra— You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?
And under his burning gaze, Y/N felt like she was on fire. Her lower stomach bubbled over with desire and she imagined him fucking her like he had in her dream.
It's almost like he knew what she was thinking about. Because right before she could tell him she wanted him, he laughed softly to himself. "What are you thinking about, Y/N?"
Her name on his lips sent shivers down her spine. "W... What?"
"Tell me. You're thinking about having sex with me right now, aren't you?"
She could barely breathe. But she managed to get out a strangled, "Yes."
Spencer smirked and stood up, walking around the table but never taking his eyes off Y/N. She swallowed and stood up too, meeting his eyes and tilting her head up to look at him— really look at him. His pupils were full-blown, his lips formed into an amused smile as he reached out to touch her face. She fluttered her eyes closed and leaned into his touch, a small sigh involuntarily escaping her lips.
"How long have you been thinking about me?" Spencer asked quietly, yet the tone in his voice rather demanded an answer more than asked for one.
Y/N opened her eyes to meet his, and almost crumbled under the weight of their intensity. "S-since last night."
He hummed in response, running his thumb over her chin and up to her lips, just barely touching them. "Have you ever thought about it before then?"
She couldn't lie to him. "A few times."
That got a full smile out of him, but it disappeared rather quickly as he stepped even closer and gripped the side of Y/N's face in his right hand, his fingers barely weaving through the hair behind her ear. She gasped and looked up at him, silently begging for him to kiss her. To push her onto the table, or choke her, or something.
"Tell me what you want," he demanded, keeping that even, soft tone. It sent another chill through Y/N's body.
She could hardly breathe. Could hardly form words.
Spencer slipped his hand behind her head and gripped the underside of her damp hair, tugging slightly as she whimpered. "What do you want?"
"I want you to fuck me," Y/N gasped out, completely and utterly entranced by his looming presence.
"Now?" he asked, his own way of really making sure she wanted to go through with this.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, please, fuck me. Please."
The look he gave her after she said it was purely dirty and unlike any thing she'd ever experienced. She decided then and there that if that was the reaction she'd get from him for begging, she would beg him for anything any time.
Not to mention, the way he kissed her was enough to make any man or woman fly into the sun. Both of his hands found themselves lost in her hair, pulling her head to his and practically massaging her scalp as he glided his lips across hers with a slow burning fever that made Y/N's body completely succumb to him. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, reaching up to twist her fingers through the ends of his hair, admiring how soft and perfect it felt on her skin. Once Spencer's tongue swiped over her bottom lip and softly pushed into her mouth, it was well and truly over. Y/N was done for. He could do anything he wanted and she wouldn't turn him away.
He pulled away for a moment, taking her bottom lip between his teeth before moving back in and angling his head in the other direction, kissing her deeper and causing a groan to slip from her throat.
Y/N desperately clung to his neck, wishing he could do this to her forever, but then he took one of his hands away from her head and brought it to her lower back. He completely pulled her against him, one of his legs slipping between hers and putting the slightest bit of pressure to her crotch.
She whimpered, causing Spencer to push himself against her harder, the two of them completely attached. He brought his knee up just a little, and Y/N instinctively ground against it, desperately wanting to feel any type of friction she could manage. It warmed her whole body to the core, being completely embraced by him, and in a matter of seconds she was more desperate than she'd ever been.
She pulled her face away from his reluctantly, breathing heavily and still grinding against his leg. "Please," was all the could think to say.
"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" Spencer whispered, peppering her neck with wet kisses as he brought his leg up higher, giving her more access. He leaned his butt against the table for support, until eventually he gave in and sat down on it, bringing her down to sit on his thigh.
Y/N hesitated, halting her movements for a second before he gripped her hips and moved them forward. "Go ahead, pretty girl. Ride my thigh."
She groaned at the nickname and obliged happily, grinding down and rocking her hips against him. He continued to kiss her neck, occasionally biting down and sucking at different spots, sure to leave marks.
He hadn't even really touched her yet, and Y/N was absolutely dizzy, high on kisses and his hands burning into her hips. She felt her stomach start to coil as an orgasm came to the surface, her legs clenching tighter around him.
"You close, baby?" Spencer muttered against her neck, right under her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth for just a moment before rocking her hips faster, bringing his leg up just a bit higher to aid her. She shoved her head into his neck and cried out his name, somewhere between a whine and a moan.
Within a matter of seconds Y/N was shaking around him, panting his name over and over while he brought his leg just a tad higher, bringing her over the edge. Her mind raced, coming to terms with what just happened and what was about to happen, and it made her tremble again, sending one more shockwave through her lower body before her hips slowed to a stop.
Spencer slid his hands back up to her head, bringing her face to his once more and kissing her. As if she wasn't already so out of breath. But it didn't matter. She only cared about his mouth and the way it captured hers like it belonged there, like it knew she was his for the taking. And she really believed that was true.
Y/N still straddled his leg, but she wanted to give him the same release he'd given her, so she attempted to climb away and moved one of her hands down to his belt.
Spencer stopped her hand and pulled his face away from hers. For a moment she thought she'd done something wrong, and she was about to apologize, but he pulled her close and stroked her hair with his hand, tilting his head to meet her gaze. "Not yet, pretty girl. I want to taste you first."
And without another second passing by, he moved the hand that grabbed her wrist between them and snuck it into her shorts and panties. Y/N jumped a little, but only because it felt too good for her own good. Her eyes fluttered shut when his middle finger grazed her clit, but his other hand gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "No. I want you to look at me, okay?"
She nodded, and then whimpered when he slipped a finger inside of her. She lifted herself up just a little so he had more access, and sure enough his finger slipped in and out with ease.
She wanted more, but he took his hand away, and the glimmer in his eye when she pouted, visibly frustrated, sent her into another small fit of tremors.
"So antsy, pretty girl," Spencer laughed, slightly amused. Y/N would have said something, but all words escaped her when he brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue poked out to taste-test before he completely took them in, holding eye contact with her the whole time. As he sucked his fingers clean, Y/N felt herself growing desperate again, and she ground against his leg once more.
Spencer laughed and brought his fingers out of his mouth, resting them on her hips. "You're being awfully quiet, Y/N."
"I... I don't... Is that a bad thing?"
"Not necessarily. But you didn't have a problem being loud last night."
It brought color to her cheeks. Her first instinct was to apologize but she knew he'd chastise her for it, so she didn't. Rather, she embraced the opportunity and pulled herself closer to him. "Is that what you want, Spencer? You want me to be loud for you?" Her voice was soft, somewhat contradicting what she was saying, but she looked at him through her eyelashes, biting her lip as if asking for permission.
And now it seemed like it was his turn to groan, though it came out as more of a growl as he pushed her away from him, grabbing her arm and leading her through the apartment. All the rooms were built the same so he knew where to go. He didn't take the time to scan her room, though if he did it was fast. Y/N barely had any time to react before he pulled her to him again and kissed her roughly.
As his fingers weaved through her hair again, Y/N decided to take a chance, snaking her hands down to his belt. This time he didn't stop her, his lips opening and granting her access to his tongue as she unbuckled the belt. She unzipped his pants and pushed them down his hips, but they only got about an inch down before he pulled away from her completely, leaving her empty again.
She whined, and he smirked.
"What is it, Y/N?" he asked. "What do you want?" His tone was almost condescending, like he knew exactly what she wanted.
She didn't like being teased. "I just want you," she stated, whining a bit to prove her point.
He seemed to contemplate his words for a moment before he spoke. "And... you think I should just give you what you want? After I caught you eavesdropping on me last night?"
He was only saying it to see her flushed. To embarrass her and make her shy so he could make it better in the end. She knew that, knew better, and yet it still worked. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, getting down on her knees in front of him and looking up at him with just as much desperation as she could manage. "You know I feel really really bad about it, just please let me make it up to you. Please, Spencer."
When all he did was look down at her, amused and still, Y/N batted her eyelashes and grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear. She waited to pull them down until he did or said something, but all he did was stare. She couldn't tell if he was making her wait or if he was waiting for her, and she was afraid of making the wrong decision. But, deciding that she'd been in enough trouble in the past 10 hours to last a lifetime, Y/N took a chance yet again and pulled Spencer's pants all the way down.
Still unsure of what would happen if she continued, Y/N scooted closer, but kept her eyes locked on his. She batted her eyelashes and ran her hands up his thighs, eventually wrapping around to his ass. She brought them up his lower back and around to feel his stomach before sliding down to the front of his hips. She stopped them there, gliding her thumbs over his skin in small circles as she pleaded once more for good measure.
"Pretty please."
Spencer gave in, bringing his hands to her hair and pulling her close. "It's all yours, baby."
The words sent heat straight to her lower half as she flicked her tongue out to taste the head of his cock. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, and Y/N took that as her opening. She looked down and marveled at him as she took him completely in her mouth, slowly but surely, getting herself acquainted with his size.
Once she set a steady pace, she looked up at him and found that he was absolutely wonderstruck. His eyes practically sparkled as they fixed on her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in pure adoration and fascination. Y/N took this as encouragement, bobbing her head faster and slacking her jaw as she let him hit the back of her throat with each thrust forward. She gagged once and pulled herself off, bringing her hand up to jerk him for a few seconds before using her mouth again. This was a cycle that continued until tears were streaming down her cheeks and spit was leaking down her chin, and every time she looked up at him, Spencer would groan and tighten his grip in her hair.
Eventually he stopped her, pulling her off of him and panting. "Come here," he whispered, and Y/N got up off her knees, standing up and wiping some of the spit from her face. It didn't feel all that sexy as she was doing it, though the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing in the entire world that could bring him joy.
He reached forward and wiped some of the tears from her cheek before kissing her, groaning into her mouth as he did so. His still hard cock pressed against her leg, and she groaned, too, before he pulled away.
That dark glimmer returned in his eye when he spoke. "Take your clothes off."
Y/N didn't have to be told twice. Immediately she threw her shirt off over her head and tossed it to the ground as Spencer stepped out of his pants. His eyes travelled down to her breasts and she noticed him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing a few times before he looked back up at her face. Keeping eye contact and softly biting her lip, Y/N hooked her fingers around her shorts and underwear and slid them down her legs until they reached the other clothes on the floor. She kicked them to the side and tilted her head up.
She thought he might kiss her again, but instead he nodded his head towards her bed. "Lay down on your back."
As Y/N had learned pretty early on, she was quick and eager to obey, and so she did as she was told, laying down in the middle of the bed, her head resting on her pillows and the rest of her body laying flat, eagerly awaiting Spencer's next move.
She watched him as he took his shirt off, leaving him completely bare, and before she had time to admire him, he bent down and grabbed something from his pants.
A condom, Y/N realized as he made his way to her.
"You really came over with the intent to fuck me, didn't you?" she mused, unable to stop herself.
He laughed at her words, climbing over her and leaning down to press his lips to her neck in a soft kiss. "Wasn't it obvious?"
No, she thought to herself, but she didn't say anything. Though even if she wanted to, she couldn't have, because Spencer's mouth moved down her neck and to her chest. He licked a small circle over her right nipple before enclosing it entirely in his mouth, and Y/N arched her back off the bed, running her fingers through his hair.
He laughed again, taking her nipple in between his teeth before releasing it and saying, "I love how fucking responsive you are, pretty girl."
Everything about what he was saying and doing to her sent Y/N into a tailspin. Before she had time to respond, he moved his mouth to her other breast and got right to work, repeating the process.
One of his hands trailed down her body, just light enough to leave goosebumps it its wake, until it reached where she really wanted him. As if to prove his last statement, Y/N's hips bucked upwards to feel more of him, and Spencer laughed against her chest, removing his mouth from her and using both of his hands to steady her hips, pushing them into the mattress. "Can you be still for me? Use your words."
Y/N sighs and bites her lip before answering. "Yes. I can be still."
"Louder, Y/N. You promised you'd be loud for me, remember?"
If she wasn't wet before, she definitely was now. And she thought about just repeating her words louder, like she was expected to, but then something in that stupid part of her brain said to push her luck. And so she laughed back at him.
"No, I didn't."
Spencer seemed shocked. This was the first time she'd blatantly disagreed with something he said. "What?"
He seemed a little mad, but Y/N acted innocent. "Well, I asked you if you'd like me to be loud for you, and you just pulled me in here. You didn't answer me, and I didn't promise anything."
She was scared of what he would do or say, but that turned her on even more.
And without warning, Spencer jammed two of his fingers into her mouth, forcing it open and pressing them down on her tongue. "Well, sweetheart, this is me telling you. You're gonna scream my name until the whole city can hear how needy you are for me."
She almost choked on his fingers, but he took them out and slid them down her chin and neck, leaving her completely breathless. He waited a beat before laughing to himself. "Aw, see? Look what I do to you, pretty girl," he mused. "You're so submissive."
Y/N wanted to argue, but she wanted him more, so she whined and tried to move him closer, to which he laughed again and caressed her face. "That's what I thought. Now be a good girl and wait a second while I put this on, okay?"
For fear of disappointing him, Y/N replied with, "Okay," loud and clear.
He smirked, unwrapping the condom and starting to slide it over himself. "Fast learner."
And in an attempt to patch things over even more, she batted her eyes like she knew he liked, acting patient and innocent though she was pretty sure they both knew she was the exact opposite.
It paid off in the end though, because Spencer rewarded her with a sweet kiss as he ran the tip of his cock over her pussy, just barely entering. He teased her like that for about a minute before she started to get antsy, and yet he didn't let up. He raised an eyebrow at her, and catching on she reached up, grabbing the sides of his face and blinking once before talking. "Please, Spencer. Fuck me."
"Atta girl," he praised before moving forward and entering her. Immediately Y/N moaned, her mouth open and eyes just about rolling to the back of her head. Her hands slid up his face and through his hair, weaving her fingers through the soft waves as he set a steady pace, letting themselves get used to the feeling of being wrapped up in each other like this. For a moment it seemed like he forgot his promise to fuck her so hard the whole city would hear her screaming his name, but after a while, he apparently decided that she wasn't being loud enough.
"Come on, Y/N. You can do better than that."
She wanted more than anything to tell him that if he fucked her harder then maybe she would be louder, but infinitely realized that A) that was a surefire way to get chastised, and B) if she was louder, he would fuck her harder. He was going to make her work for it, and in the end she didn't mind that at all.
So she told the truth. "Fuck, Spencer, you feel so goo— ahh!"
Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, he quickly adjusted and fucked her faster, and aside from the overstimulation, it was starting to feel reminiscent of the dream she'd had last night. She wasn't crying but she felt like she could, every fiber of her being burning alive with pleasure. She felt her orgasm rising to the surface, but she didn't want this to end yet. Maybe if she was lucky Spencer would keep going after she'd finished, though at this point she was just happy to let him fuck her for any period of time.
That being said, he slowed his movements, making each stroke harder and more deliberate, and Y/N yelled out his name, hoping to get more.
"You close, pretty girl? Hmm? You wanna cum?"
The strain in his voice sent another wave of pleasure coursing through her body. He was close too, she just knew it.
"Yes," she breathed, before repeating it louder and louder. "Yes, yes, yes!"
She was just about to fall over the edge when Spencer laughed and pulled out of her, leaving her unsatisfied, empty, and confused.
"What?" she breathed, looking up at him.
He slid the condom off and tossed it aside before jerking himself off over her stomach. "Only good girls get to cum. You should have thought of that before you eavesdropped on me."
And then he came all over her stomach and chest. She would have been more angry, but the whole sight in front of her was hot as hell. Who was she to complain? She watched as his face scrunched up in pleasure, his mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. His hair faintly stuck to his face, and his hips jerked into his hand until eventually he was spent.
Y/N whined at the sight, completely turned on feeling his warm cum coating her skin and also utterly frustrated for not getting off.
Spencer opened his eyes to look at her, and she thought in that moment it looked like he would burst into flames. As his gaze raked over her body, covered in his cum and so obviously desperate for release, he licked his lips and got down, spreading her legs wider and opening her up to him.
"Wha—"
Y/N didn't get to finish her thought, because Spencer was immediately eating her out like a man starved, running his tongue through her pussy, occasionally flicking it over her clit. As expected, the louder she got the more he gave her, and at one point he started fingering her at a relentless pace, curling his fingers up against her g-spot while circling her clit with his tongue.
He brought his head up and looked at her through his eyelashes as best as he could, barely catching a glimpse of her face, completely contorted in pleasure.
"You wanna cum, pretty girl?" he teased, slowing his fingers torturously.
She whined and then threw her head back, pleading. "Spencer, please!"
He only got a little faster and then gently flicked his tongue over her clit again, to which she yelped and fisted the sheets.
In turn he moved faster. And she got louder. Faster and louder, faster and louder, until finally he gave her what she wanted.
"That's it, pretty girl. Cum for me."
Right after he said it, Y/N arched her back off the bed and fisted the sheets even harder, actually screaming his name until it came out as incoherent sobs, eventually dwindling down to whimpering and panting as he aided her down from her high.
Spencer's movements slowed to a stop, pulling his fingers out of her and pressing one final kiss to her clit before removing himself from her completely and coming up to lay down beside her.
She stayed there on her back, arms clutched at her sides, breathing deep and eyes almost heavy like she was about to fall asleep. He brushed her hair away from her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him, and it excited her. When he pulled away, she turned her head to look at him and smiled.
"I'm definitely going to have to invade your privacy more often if this is what the end result is."
Spencer laughed, his hand brushing lightly through her hair. "So that was okay? I'm sorry if I was kind of mean, I—"
"I'm gonna stop you right there. If I was really truly mad about anything you did, I would have screamed at you, not for you. Trust me. You're just fine. That was... perfect."
"Good... And you know I was just teasing you about eavesdropping, right? I'm not actually upset about it."
"No, I know. I still feel kinda bad about it though."
"Well, you shouldn't. If anything... something good came out of it, right?"
Y/N laughed, scrunching her nose as he looked at her. "Right."
After a moment, Spencer sat up and looked down at her stomach, a smirk on his face. "I'm gonna go get you a washcloth."
"Good thinking. And while you're at it could you also grab the Advil?"
He was on his way out the bedroom door, slipping on his underwear before stopping in his tracks. "Oh no... I- I didn't hurt you did I?"
"Oh! No, you didn't. I just know that I'm going to be sore, and walking will most definitely be a problem. And I am not getting out of this bed for the rest of the day, so Advil will definitely help. Thank you for that, by the way."
Spencer laughed, leaving Y/N to admire him as he walked away.
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Dispatch Reveals Your Relationship ~ Min Yoongi
The second you read through the headline of the article; your heart stopped. Your phone immediately began to light up with mentions on all your social medias which you quickly swiped away, feeling a hand rest against your shoulder, stopping you from looking through any further.
“I’m sorry,” was all Yoongi could say as he showed you the article on his phone too. “Please don’t scroll through, there’s no need.”
He moved back up the article briefly to show you the photograph that had been taken of the two of you, the only thing you needed to see.
For a couple of years, the two of you had been incredibly secretive with your relationship, but the more you settled, the more comfortable you got. When Yoongi suggested heading out for a late-night walk, you thought it would be a wise idea, but now it was anything but.
“What do we do?” You asked, closing your phone down and throwing it onto the sofa across the room. “That’s pretty conclusive proof that the two of us are dating, we can’t defend that.”
As soon as you felt his hand wrap around your waist as you reached the river, you began to panic. Yoongi reassured you it would be fine as he pressed several light kisses to the tip of your nose, unaware of anything that was going on around you both.
“Maybe we’ve just got to be honest,” he suggested, struggling for ideas. “I don’t think we’re really going to be left with much of a choice.”
“Your fans are going to go crazy knowing this has been such a secret.”
His arm wrapped around your waist, resting you tightly into his chest. You felt his head rest above yours as he let go of several shaky breaths. As clueless as he was on what to do, one thing he was sure of was that he had to protect you.
Neither of you could predict how the article was going to go down, but if Yoongi could keep you off your phone for as long as possible then it would definitely cause you less worry.
“Maybe we just have to try and see the positives in this situation,” Yoongi suggested, pressing a kiss against the top of your head, “It’s Dispatch, so some fans might just think it’s them trying to get a bit of publicity.
Since the start of your relationship Yoongi had often told you about the reputation Dispatch had, the two of you spent many nights laughing about the crazy stories they often came up with.
“They’ve got a photo Yoongi, it’s not like they’ve just decided to start a rumour about us.”
He sighed much louder than he did before, closing his eyes as he continued to think of a way to handle the situation, and keep you safe.
“Do you think it looks like it’s photoshopped?” He asked, showing you the photo once again, but your head quickly shook when you looked back over it.
As much as you hated to admit it, there felt like little either of you could do to try and defend the situation. Both of your phones were already blowing up with messages from fans, friends, and worst of all, Yoongi’s management. They’d put all their trust in the two of you making sure you kept your relationship private, and yet now you were found out.
“Maybe I should just go,” you suggested.
“No, I need you here with me right now.”
His grip tightened immediately around you, refusing to let you move away from his side. Regardless of the consequences, it was a situation you were going to face together. Yoongi wasn’t going to let them win, he wasn’t going to let them break the two of you apart.
“What’s going to happen?”
“What can happen?” He responded, “I think we just need to tell the fans it’s true, it won’t change anything for the two of us though.”
His words felt like something you’d heard in the movies, the main character would always convince their partner that they’d stick around, just to walk away. You’d enjoyed years of happiness with Yoongi, as much as you didn’t want to let that go, you couldn’t help but worry about the effect on his career.
“It could change everything for you.”
His head shook, if his fans trusted and loved him like they said, he knew there would be no issues in announcing your relationship.
“I’ll fix it, all of it. I promise you.”
It sounded so easy, his voice had always been reassuring to you, but this wasn’t as easy as forgetting something at the shops or missing an appointment at the doctors.
It wasn’t a quick fix; it was something that could affect the rest of his career. Even if he promised you that you were the priority, there were six other people beside him who thought very differently. You could imagine all of them reading the article, and the disappointment they were feeling.
“Surely I can sue Dispatch or something for an invasion of privacy,” he hummed, “who sends journalists out at two in the morning anyway.”
Your eyes glanced up at him, “they did nothing wrong, as stupid as it is, they were taking photos in public, there’s nothing that can be done about that. You know that people watch out for all of you every hour of the day, even if it was two in the morning.”
Listening to how logical you were brought a smile to his face, trusting that the situation would pass if the two of you just stuck together. There were going to be a lot of apologies needed, but he’d make sure no one would need to apologise more than Dispatch.
“I can’t believe the one time they post a true article it’s about us,” you chuckled.
“I’m still annoyed out of all the journalist companies that exposed us, it was Dispatch,” he laughed, turning off his phone once again. “We’ll probably need to write a statement pretty sharpish before things get out of hand.”
You sat up from Yoongi as the two of you began to write a statement for him to send to the company. Both of you were honest, it was all you could be, you just hoped that the fans and the company would trust in the two of you.
It took a few moments for Yoongi to press send on his email, the calmness he’d felt throughout beginning to be replaced by a huge fear.
“Whatever happens, we’ll be alright,” he assured you, hitting send for the statement to be sent off for release. “We’ve just got to accept that this has happened.”
“We’ve probably disappointed a lot of people tonight; nothing is ever going to be the same.”
His head shook, resting his hand over yours. “If people are disappointed in our happiness, then they’re not deserving. I’ll make sure nothing changes for the both of us.”
“You can’t make those sorts of promises, neither of us know how people are going to react when that statement goes out, or what it means for you.”
“It’s not just about me, it’s about us. But that’s a promise I know I can keep, there’s no way I’m going to lose you, no matter what it costs.”
You sighed gently, tilting your head to look at him. “What if Dispatch has ruined everything?”
“They’ve given us the freedom to finally be us, that’s all.”
---
Masterlist
#bts#bts imagine#yoongi#yoongi imagine#min yoongi#min yoongi imagine#bts scenario#bts reaction#suga#suga imagine#min suga#bts yoongi#bts drabble#bts one shot#bts fluff#yoongi scenario#yoongi reaction#yoongi drabble#yoongi one shot#yoongi fluff#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#kpop#kpop imagine
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Hit on the groom and what became of it - chapter 2/Take me out maybe (with a sniper rifle)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous or Batman (and other DC characters). This is just a fanfiction.
Chapter 1 -|- Next
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As much as Marinette disliked the meeting with the female entourage, when the time came to start working on Adrien’s suit she wanted to scream. She could clearly see that he was uncomfortable with even the gentlest touches. She did her best to make it as non-invasive to him as possible.
They had absolutely no privacy whatsoever. The Bodyguard (Gerard; His name was Gerard) and Nathalie observed their every move. Marinette was half-convinced it wasn’t her who was under watch.
The professional atmosphere was far cry from her usual working environment. When Uncle Jagged, Clara Nightingale, or even Diana Prince came to her for clothes, it was always very informal. They would joke, gossip, or exchange stories while she worked. Now? Now she was wary of even speaking with Adrien.
Likewise, the boy refused to meet her eyes or open his mouth.
At some point, when she was trying to find the right shade of white for the undershirt, she noticed a make-up stain that was not there before.
“I’m sorry, but I will need to request you remove the makeup. It is staining my materials.” She informed Nathalie and Gerard coldly. It was all she could do to resist calling the police there and there. Sadly, the commissioner was good friends with Gabriel, so it would most likely just end her career and make it worse for Adrien.
“I was assured it would not leave stains on materials. Please accept our apologies. We will cover the costs of destroyed materials,” Nathalie informed her in an equally cold voice.
“I see…” Marinette’s lips thinned. Inside, she was screaming. But there was nothing she could do. The hit was in place. Soon Adrien would be safe. It would go without a hitch. It had to.
As the group was leaving, she could’ve sworn the Bodyguard gave her a mournful look. As if he shared her sentiment, but was powerless to stop it. She’d know that look. She saw it in the mirror all too often.
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The Wedding (even the narrator started to capitalize it) came faster than Marinette wanted to accept. And there were still no words about the kidnapping. She made sure to specify that they were to take him before he was married or no payment. Did she not make the money enticing enough? Were there already attempts that were stopped without media coverage? Maybe she forgot to check some boxes?
A million scenarios ran through her head as she wandered through the alleyways.
The whole event was happening in Gotham Botanic Garden. Whatever the weak excuse was given to the press, Marinette knew the real reason: it was one of the few places in the world where Gabriel could marry his son to Lila legally without messing with courts. And bribes were said to be cheapest there.
As the designer for both the bride and the groom, she was invited to the main ceremony.
Lila was kind enough to even give her a seated place… right next to Chloé Bourgeois.
Marinette had a hard time deciding if it was bigger punishment to her or the mayor’s daughter. Ultimately, the two girls did their best to not look at each other during preparations. At first, that is, because the first chance she got, Chloé to drag the designer to a remote garden gazebo in a secluded corner when she was least expecting it.
“Wha-!” Marinette was about to protest, but the blonde covered her mouth. She seated her on the bench and took the seat on the opposite side.
“I’ve been friends with Adrien since we were kids.” She announced in the usual ‘I’m-better-than-you’ tone. “I also know that you’re not always an idiot.”
“Gee! Thanks, Chloé… I’m honored with your praise.” Marinette deadpanned, interrupting the heiress. “Now get to the point”. She really hoped her dress wasn’t damaged or she might just turn to murder.
“Fine. You worked with Adrien on his suit.” She paused, and for a moment, just a brief moment, her mask fell. That was not what Marinette expected. She has never seen Chloé so… so… The designer’s brain lacked the word to describe how her childhood bully looked like. “How is he?” The blonde asked, her voice almost trembling.
Marinette opened her mouth, but no sound came.
A moment passed.
“Not good.” She finally admitted. “During the measurements, he winced even at delicate touches. Plus I was called in last week to make some adjustments to his garments. He lost weight between then and now. And he wore makeup on his right arm. On both occasions.”
“Makeup?” Chloé’s eyes widened.
“Yes. I would’ve probably missed it if I didn’t soak my fabric into makeup removed beforehand.” She thought back fondly to her brilliant idea.
“They hurt him!?” Chloé burst out after few seconds. “I will show those… those…”
“Believe me, I share the sentiment.” Marinette nodded sagely. She needed plan B and needed it fast. There had to be something… “I slipped him a burner phone on his way out. I doubt they found it. If it gets really bad, he can try calling the police.”
“You are devious sometimes, Dupain-Cheng.”
“Thanks. I try.”
“So… they are coercing him into it?”
“I think so. He is resigned to his fate it seems, but he tries to show some rebelliousness. It wasn’t his father’s idea to hire me and Lila would rather walk to the altar naked than wear anything by me.” Marinette cringed. Any interaction she had with the Liar made her feel almost dirty. And forcing politeness was physically painful sometimes.
“I got that much from the fact he hasn’t reported it yet. That burner phone was a good move, but Adrikins was always too obedient.”
“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with it,” Marinette muttered, but Chloé didn’t hear her. The heiress somehow managed to derail her rant into telling the story of her entire childhood.
Marinette listened only with one ear, filtering the information for something useful. The rest of her consciousness focused on something else. She started to seriously entertain the idea of using Miraculous to get Adrien out. She would need a combination of several powers though. Trixx was the obvious choice. Illusions would be a great asset. Maybe the Tiger, for the Power Up? If Roaar didn’t exaggerate her power, she would be able to put a distance between them and the city before anyone even realized what happened. She would need to time her illusion right though. And there were the American Heroes to watch out for…
If she didn’t use miraculous immediately, she might get a drop on the bodyguard(s) and then make an exit using Kaalki’s power when they were alone. Disable cameras, take out the guards, get in, portal out. It was feasible but still involved too many risks. If anyone connected miraculi to the operation, Ladybug would be in great trouble. She couldn’t endanger Paris like that… not even for her partner and best friend.
Then, there was the most dangerous plan. Don’t use Miraculi at all. She was confident enough in her skills to enter undetected. Maybe even sneak out. The question was, would Adrien make it. She could sneak him Plagg’s ring. Chat Noir would have no problem leaving any prison. But… there would be the same risk as when any other Miraculi was connected and the whole point was not to use them in the first place.
“Ugh!” She let out an angry sound that startled Chloé.
“What’s with you, Dupain-Cheng! Don’t you see I’m opening my heart to you!?”
“Shut up, I’m trying to do something productive.” She snapped at the blonde.
“Why, I…”
“Silence. Your tale was entirely unhelpful. Let me focus.”
Gotham. What was in Gotham that could help her? The most corrupt city, famous for its high crime rate, mad villains, and eternal gloominess. Even now she could feel some of it resonate in the air. As if the whole city was one big Akuma. Probably no help from the establishment… The police were more likely to put a bag on her head and deliver her to one of the crime families…
“What in Gotham can help…” She voiced her musing loudly, causing Chloé to peak up.
“Waynes!” She proclaimed. “That serial adopter would jump at the chance to get another orphan…”
“Adrien isn’t an orphan… Yet.” Marinette grumbled. “But he will be married by then, so I would need to plan a double homicide… Meh. No great loss.” She said without a shadow of care. It was like the thoughts about the murder were completely normal for her.
Chloé shivered. “Remind me not to get into your way when you’re in that mood.”
In the distance, the orchestra was starting to play, signaling the guests that the ceremony would start soon.
“Ugh! Hawkmoth it!” Marinette raged as she ran to the clearing. She no longer had the time and if she was the only one missing, Lila would make her prime suspect for anything that happened. Blast it. She would get one more chance. Screw the career. She could survive living somewhere in Argentina if it all went to hell.
-------
Adrien already accepted his fate. His father and Lila made sure that all avenues of further rebellion were closed. He exhausted everything there was.
To this day, he was grateful for that burner phone from Marinette. He made sure to hide it but always have it somewhere nearby. It became a form of a lifeline for him. A one-off save-your-life ticket. It would only work in short term, but at the rate everything was going, it could potentially save his life…
He missed his life before the mess with The Wedding started.
Hell! He even missed Plagg’s stinking cheese. He would maim for some camembert.
“Adrien,” Gerard spoke solemnly. There was no need for more words. They both knew what was about to happen and Adrien took just a bit of solace in the fact that he was not entirely alone, even if no one could help him.
“I’m ready.” He spoke, barely above a whisper.
Before he realized it, the ceremony was undergoing. Lila, in her stunning dress, held the attention on herself like a pro. No one even thought about looking anywhere but at them. The dress was similarly just so… Lila. It made all of her features all the more proponent. Yet, there was just a small, barely noticeable, stitch that said Marinette. A smile ghosted his face. There was some good out of this. He managed to make his friend famous. After today, no one would deny her style.
“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The marriage officiant spoke. Adrien didn’t even care what convention the wedding was in.
The silence swept across the garden.
No one dared to even breathe loudly.
Adrien lowered his head. Here, the last…
There was a rustle somewhere close to the front. He looked up, a small glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes.
Marinette was standing there, her backs straightened and one finger held up. “I…”
She felt the gaze of hundreds of guests on her. They were the most influential people in the world of modern business. Waynes. Luthor. Queen. Burgeiose. Agreste… And they all kept staring at her.
She tried to swipe the hall with a glance, but something attracted her attention. A glint of light somewhere in the distance.
“Watch out!” She shouted, tossing a chair she was sitting on just a moment ago.
The metal item sailed through the air until it crashed in the middle of the alley.
With an arrow sticking out of it.
For a second (which felt much longer) everyone stared at it.
Then the mass panic started. People got out of their chairs and started trying to get out of there. They trampled one another as each considered themselves to be the most important, hence first to evacuate. It was chaos.
Among the mass of people, Marinette tried her best to make it to the altar. She saw that Gerard and several other hired bodyguards were of similar minds.
She managed to squeeze through the crowd the fastest, only to find Lila knocked out and Adrien and the Officiant missing. Adrien’s cousin (best man) and Alya (bridesmaid) were both nowhere to be found. They probably ran away. There was still no trace of the Groom. That is until she saw a giant mass of brown mud dragging the boy away.
The sad thing? Adrien wasn’t really protesting much.
Gerard was the next to make it through. He noticed Adrien a tad quicker and tried to chase whoever it was that tried to kidnap Adrien, but a fist made of mud slammed into him, sending him flying away.
“Holy Hawkmoth!” Marinette cursed once more. Okay, so far, it was only a curse for her, but he deserved it.
In the distance, police sirens could’ve been heard, but with how fast the mud was escaping, Adrien would be long gone before the police arrived. Marinette had to do something.
Wait… Why am I trying to stop the kidnapping I ordered? She suddenly questioned herself, freezing in place.
Two guards rushed past her and started firing at the mass, but the bullets seemed to be about as effective as Parisian police when dealing with Akuma.
The last Marinette saw of Adrien he was being taken into the sewers.
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After the police arrived, Marinette was of course first to be interrogated. (“Gee… Thanks, Lila”). They wanted to know how she noticed the arrow, did she see the attacker, how did the kidnapper looked like, and dozens of other questions. By the end, she was exhausted. Somewhere after the sixth question, her phone pinged. Luckily, the police didn’t bother with checking it and believed that it was just a worried friend.
Not the kidnapper trying to contact their employer.
Finally, after the police released her and informed her that no further information was needed, she could contact her Maman.
“Sweety? Are you okay? I’ve seen the news!” Was the first thing that came through
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine. The police held me back for questioning a bit. I’m going back to the hotel and be back in Paris first flight tomorrow, okay?”
“Stay in Gotham! I’m coming to pick you up!” Her mother informed her.
“Wha-!? But there is no need! Seriously Maman! There’s no need to trouble yourself.”
There was a silence on the line for a moment and Marinette could feel that her mother was trying to glare at her through the phone. It worked.
“Fine… I’m at Wayne Plaza, room 30-14.” She relented, not wanting any more arguments. She would still have several hours to sort the mess with Adrien. What could possibly go wrong?
Trying her best to be careful, Marinette left the site of crime and traveled to the industrial district. The taxi driver couldn’t be bothered less about why she wanted to go there. He just wanted to get paid and leave.
The only-slightly-creepy aura of the completely silent area full of factories and warehouses served as a perfect background to contacting the kidnapper. Marinette, after making sure she was truly alone, activated the voice-scrambling app on her burner and dialed the number that sent her the text about successful work. Her Maman showed her that, thinking she wanted it for a prank. Or that’s how Marinette presented it anyway.
“Who is this?!” A voice on the other side of the call asked.
Marinette took a deep breath before answering. “I was led to believe you have what I wanted.” She tried her best to channel Chloé into her voice.
“Ah… Yes… There’s been a… complication.”
“What do you mean ‘complication’?” She hissed into the phone call.
“Um… I had the package… But then someone stole the stolen package…” Whoever that was informed her.
“Who?” She demanded.
“Last I checked, Lawton was the one who had ‘im… But it might’ve changed. But don’t worry, Boss… lady?” They asked. Marinette didn’t give either confirmation or scolding, so they continued. “I’m still in the game.” With that, they hang up.
“What did I just get myself into…” She moaned. Then, the realization hit her. “What did I just get Adrien into…”
Elsewhere, Adrien was starring into a pair of curious sea-green eyes.
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#maribat#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#batman#dc#DC comics#MLB#mlb x dc#BAMF Marinette#villain marinette#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste
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The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>
BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 1 / 4
» pt. 2
Introduction
BTS Universe Story, a mobile game published by Netmarble, was released on September 24, 2020. While the majority of the app is essentially a sandbox and engine for users to create their own interactive stories, it also includes official and canon BU content. The first eight segments were introduced between the release date and December 2020, gathered under the title The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>.
“I’m Fine” is half of the I’m Fine/Save Me ambigram introduced in the Love Yourself era. Notably, all of the BU content available in the game so far falls between events of the webtoon Save Me (also called HYYH0 in its logo) and The Notes 1—chronologically, that is, while bearing in mind that time resets to the morning of 11 April Year 22 whenever SeokJin fails to avert a tragedy among his six friends. I want to assure anyone who is unable to play the game that you are not missing any new, major plot beats from the overall BU narrative. Instead, the stories provide more insight into the motivations and consequences of SeokJin’s decisions in the earlier time loops, as well as more depth to individual characters and their circumstances.
The goal of this guide is to summarize each of the eight stories and highlight noteworthy details, especially if they are not yet present in other BU media. Within each story (which I often refer to as an arc, due to their character-focused nature), episodes must be played successively, but the stories themselves can be played in any order. I will present them over a series of posts in the order they are listed under the <I’M FINE> heading. The Prologue and NamJoon’s arc are free to play; the rest are paid content. Please note that due to the app’s Terms & Conditions, I will not include in-game footage here. The images in this guide are sourced from the official trailers/videos and the live action MVs as appropriate.
Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD
This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media
Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission
Game Mechanic
Before diving into the summaries, I would like to address the primary mechanic of the game: the user’s control of character choices at designated moments in the stories. It’s a primary marketing point that the player can influence the progression of the narrative, with a frequent in-app tip also declaring, “stories’ endings can vary depending on your choices.” The latter is not strictly true—and it cannot be true due to the structure of the game. Choices are presented within most (not all) episodes, but each episode is an isolated unit: episode 2 provides the same content regardless of what you choose in episode 1. Since the consequences of your decisions are not cumulative, each episode reaches the same ending, and each decision inevitably rejoins the “main” story path (effectively reducing the script size).
So what is the point of this mechanic? While the system is not nearly as complex as what major platform titles are capable of nowadays (I suspect due in large part to the story creation portion of the game), it does foster a sense of interaction with the narrative that isn’t present in static visual media like comics or film. The episodes with choices also have incentive for replay to discover the impact of changing a character’s dialogue or action. Sometimes the differences between the outcomes are inconsequential, but other times you unearth new details, interactions, or memories that are missing in the other path.
I say this partially in reaction to all of the comments and tweets I read for the game trailers and even Smeraldo Book twitter’s choose-your-own-adventure style teasers with The Notes 2 excerpts released last summer. Many users expressed excitement, through words or memes, about finally being able to give the boys the happy ending they deserved. I don’t fault anyone for wanting that happy ending—I wish for it, too. But no matter what the rather overzealous marketing has claimed, I don’t believe that the canon ending of BU is ever meant to be in the audience’s control. But I do feel that this mechanism fits the BU narrative. It echoes the “countless loops” SeokJin has experienced in an effort to save his friends, the choices he must make at every crossroad, and the butterfly effect those actions have on all of their lives. I think it is reasonable to interpret the simple branching paths in the game as alternatives SeokJin has explored across multiple loops in his struggle to find the “right” way forward. I’d love to hear if you have theories of your own!
Prologue
The prologue is a brief episode introducing SeokJin’s repeated struggle and failure to save his friends. He wakes up yet again in his bed on 11 April Year 22, the beginning of the time loop. After reflecting on the tragedies that keep befalling the others, SeokJin realizes that he has only tried to fix the problems he can see. He wonders: “Have I tried to understand the root of my friends’ misfortunes? How much do I really know about my friends? Maybe I was never brave enough to confront their real scars and the worlds they’ve been living in. But I need to do it. Because it may be the key to saving them all.”
How to Offer a Hand
In this story, SeokJin attempts to prevent NamJoon’s arrest after he gets in a fight with a rude customer at Naeri Gas Station, his place of work. The first episode opens on the night of 11 April Year 22 with NamJoon curling his fists, glaring as crumpled bills lie untouched on the pavement. (The money looks similar to the shot from the I Need U MV.) SeokJin reaches for his shoulder, but NamJoon shrugs him off and strides away to punch the customer who deliberately dropped the bills for him to pick up. The gas station owner runs over at the customer’s furious shouts and orders NamJoon to apologize. He refuses, and police officers soon arrive and charge him with assault. No one listens to SeokJin’s protests that the customer started it first. The man sneers as NamJoon enters the police car. “Do you even have money for a settlement? Hey, you’re done for.” NamJoon is sentenced to prison again, and SeokJin hears glass shattering before the loop resets.
Rising from his bed on the morning of 11 April, SeokJin reflects on his failed efforts so far. He has hit the customer’s car, called for NamJoon in the middle of the incident, and stopped the fight himself, the latter of which caused his friends to avoid him later. The fight has even escalated; the details are unspecified, but the audience is provided an ominous shot of SeokJin speaking to a police officer alone at the scene. NamJoon is not the kind of person who would normally respond to that kind of provocation with his fists. SeokJin realizes that he cannot merely stop the fight but must discover and fix the true cause of it.
With this in mind, SeokJin heads to Naeri Gas Station during the day and tries to engage NamJoon. This is their first time meeting since they both returned to Songju, although SeokJin has experienced it in many loops already. “It’s been a while,” he greets (as he does at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV). Before SeokJin can dig deeper in their conversation, NamJoon is called away by his boss. SeokJin enters the small employee break room which serves as NamJoon’s living space when he’s not at the container, hoping to find some clues about his friend’s life. SeokJin locates something bundled in newspapers. If the player chooses to open it, he sees a strange shard of glass inside that may belong to a car or motorcycle headlight. He continues on, finding the book Cosmos by Carl Sagan and a notebook. SeokJin hesitates over the invasion of privacy but decides to read it since he needs all the information that he can gather. The journal entries detail NamJoon’s daily life since returning to Songju: his work at the gas station isn’t too bad despite the occasional rude customer; he purchased a book and hopes to get more in the future; he picked up a second job at a wedding hall to help catch up on bills; his brother NamHyeon got in trouble again, leading to more expenses; and his dad’s health has worsened, with hospital bills after an emergency surgery rising to levels that the family cannot afford. SeokJin knew that NamJoon was the de facto head of household due to his father’s illness but was unaware that it was to this degree. He feels sorry for NamJoon yet is also impressed by his maturity, for NamJoon never writes how difficult his situation is.
NamJoon arrives and asks what SeokJin is doing in the room. If the player chooses to answer “reading” instead of “just sitting there,” SeokJin privately observes that the conversation flows more easily when they talk about books. NamJoon says he must leave and declines when SeokJin offers to wait for him there. SeokJin knocks over a pile of books along with money and receipts as he stands. He thinks it is unusual that NamJoon picks up the books before the money. The books seem to be more than a hobby to NamJoon, holding special meaning. Walking to his car, SeokJin wonders if it is pride or determination not to falter that keeps NamJoon from journaling his grievances. He realizes that money is a constant source of frustration and misery to NamJoon, and that’s why he can’t stomach being insulted over the customer’s dropped money. SeokJin’s new plan is to prevent NamJoon from picking up the money. He also calls Palgok County Hospital and offers to pay the patient bill for NamJoon’s father. Anticipating that NamJoon will be angry if he finds out, SeokJin says the payer is Songho Foundation.
That night, SeokJin returns to the gas station with the excuse that he forgot to fill up earlier. The luxury car arrives with a honk, and NamJoon hurries over to assist. He shakes with anger when the customer drops the money on the ground. “Why aren’t you picking it up? You don’t want it? What’s with that look? Pretty arrogant for a part-timer, aren’t you?” goads the customer. SeokJin intervenes. Whether the player chooses to have him advise NamJoon not to pick it up or to order the customer to pick it up himself, the end result is the same. SeokJin asks the customer, “Why are you harassing a pitiful part-timer?” The customer drives away, and something about NamJoon seems off. His face is expressionless, not mad or humiliated. “SeokJin, you…” He stops. “Never mind. Thank you for your help.” The words sound difficult for him to speak.
SeokJin believes that he has saved NamJoon, although this ending feels sloppy. He continues on in the loop to rescue JungKook and later YoonGi, but uneasiness plagues him. Though he meant to help NamJoon with his actions, SeokJin wonders if he hurt him instead. On 5 May Year 22, he returns to the gas station and follows NamJoon when he leaves work early. NamJoon enters a bookstore, and SeokJin sneaks in after him to watch from afar. He overhears employees talking about NamJoon, worrying that he might dirty the pages of the book he’s perusing. NamJoon is too absorbed in the book to notice one of them calling for his attention. SeokJin recalls a memory from their school days when he found NamJoon reading alone in their classroom hideout: he asked why NamJoon read so diligently, and his friend explained that he found it comforting to empty his thoughts of everything else while focused on the book. In the present, SeokJin wonders how he forgot how much books mean to NamJoon. He sacrifices some of his food and transportation budget to afford them, but they enable him “to endure the weight of the world he’s forced to bear on his shoulders.” After realizing this, SeokJin wants to apologize for carelessly sympathizing with the reality that NamJoon has weathered alone.
The next episode is from NamJoon’s perspective, revealing his excitement over being able to purchase a book for the first time in two months. He wants to buy two but can only afford one. The employee at the register sighs and asks why he leafed through a book he wasn’t going to buy. NamJoon apologizes, and she mutters, “So dirty.” He notices his reflection, clothes worn and smelling of gasoline, and realizes she’s talking about him, not the book. He tries to shake off these depressing thoughts, but he is still not accustomed to this treatment despite experiencing it regularly at work. As NamJoon begins to exit the store, the security alarm goes off. The employees demand to check his bag despite his insistence that he didn’t steal anything. Their certainty of his theft angers him. NamJoon allows them to look through his bag, and they are suspicious of the like-new book in it which he brought from home. One begins to call the police until SeokJin appears, vouching for NamJoon by saying he saw everything. The employees accept that the alarm malfunctioned and excuse their suspicions as a mistake.
Outside, SeokJin asks NamJoon if he is all right. NamJoon is thankful but wonders how SeokJin materialized right when he needed him. “How’d you find me here?” he asks aloud. SeokJin explains that he happened to notice him while walking through the neighborhood. NamJoon wonders if it’s because they said goodbye on a weird note last time. He thanks him and turns to leave. SeokJin calls after him. “I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you that day at the gas station. It was a mistake to have called you pitiful. If my rash actions hurt you, I’m really sorry.” NamJoon accepts his apology, believing it to be sincere, and says that things would have turned out a lot worse if SeokJin had not intervened. Thunder rolls overhead, and NamJoon uses the impending rain as his excuse to depart. He declines SeokJin’s offer of a ride and runs home, feeling his friend’s eyes on him.
Before he can settle down to read at home, NamJoon receives a call from his cheerful mother. She thanks him for paying off the entire hospital bill. NamJoon is perplexed and asks what’s on the receipt, since he didn’t pay it. His mother wants to leave it be, but he insists that they investigate so they don’t get in trouble or sued. She reads that the Songho Foundation is credited as the payer. NamJoon calls the hospital, introducing himself as the guardian for Kim YoungMin, but they can’t transfer him to the administrative department at this time. Disappointed, he looks up the foundation’s website, unable to recall why it sounds familiar. He wonders why a scholarship foundation in the city would get involved with him. Spotting photos of a recent launch ceremony on the site, he recognizes a few people: Songju High School’s principal, the familiar-looking face of the foundation’s chairman, and SeokJin. First, NamJoon forces a laugh, and then it’s difficult for him to breathe. He thinks that SeokJin really had pitied him at that moment. The only thing keeping NamJoon going is the idea of getting through life on his own strength. Why does he have to live like this?
The last episode opens on 5 May back in SeokJin’s perspective. He is confident now that he has saved NamJoon, although it occurs to him that a better alternative may have been to simply pick up the money himself instead of stepping forward. (This decision is enacted in a later loop and depicted in the Euphoria MV.) While reflecting on what comes next to save his other friends, he receives a text from NamJoon. “What’s your account number? I’ll pay you back for the hospital bills. I don’t need your help. I’ll handle my concerns on my own.” Heart sinking, SeokJin wonders how he found out. With a sense of foreboding, he tries calling NamJoon, but no one answers. SeokJin texts him back, pretending that he doesn’t understand, and tells NamJoon to call him. SeokJin’s second attempt connects while he’s gathering his car keys to visit the container. “That’s enough. Just send the account number over text,” NamJoon instructs. SeokJin coaxes him to talk for a moment, and NamJoon asks flatly, “Are you going to apologize again?” SeokJin attempts to salvage the situation, but his friend turns cold when he insists that NamJoon is misunderstanding and that he just wanted to help. “So, why? Why are you helping me?! Yeah, you’re always a good person. You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m the one misunderstanding.” SeokJin apologizes again. NamJoon refuses his request to meet in person. “No, I thought maybe there was a reason for everything you did… But I guess I misconstrued it. I’ll pay you back, so I’d prefer if you stopped contacting me.” Long after the call ends, SeokJin stands holding his phone, feeling that the glass is going to break at any moment. He wants to believe that it’s not over, but hope is slipping through his fingertips.
The episode finishes in NamJoon’s perspective. On 8 May and 9 May, he accepts part-time delivery work and reflects on his three jobs. Whenever he thinks he’s at his breaking point, he focuses on his new goal of returning SeokJin’s money. On 10 May, NamJoon wakes up to his buzzing phone and is called in to work. On a scooter, he passes by a bus stop and notices graffiti. (This is the same bus stop, with matching graffiti, that appears in the Highlight Reel.) Mesmerized, he wonders if it’s TaeHyung’s. As soon as NamJoon looks up, the scooter’s brake fails, and he crashes. The shattered glass on the cold pavement reminds him of the headlight shard and the kid who looked like TaeHyung. (So the piece of glass SeokJin saw in April was really a memento NamJoon retrieved from the scene of the crash in the mountain town, where the delivery boy whom he privately called TaeHyung died. This event is described in NamJoon’s 17 December Year 21 entry in The Notes 1.) NamJoon’s vision grows blurry, and the distant sound of an ambulance doesn’t come any closer.
The arc concludes there, but it obviously marks another reset for SeokJin. It is interesting to note that in this failed loop, NamJoon suffers the same fate that he narrowly avoided in the snowy mountain town before returning to Songju.
Please stay tuned for the next Highlights post featuring JungKook and YoonGi!
#armiesnet#networkbangtan#bangtanarmynet#armysource#dailybangtan#bts universe#hyyh#bangtan universe#bts universe story#bts universe story highlights#seokjin#namjoon#namjin#bts theories
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Nyx and Tamlin’s daughter part 2
Again no one really read the first part, but I don’t care! I have been inspired to write again, so I am just going with the flow. Also, I read somewhere that instead of describing accents you should just write how the accent sounds when the character speaks, but idk. If you think it’s annoying comment and I might change it for the other parts I’ve written.
"I apologize for my parents. They mean well, but I think my mother secretly still harbors negative feelings for your father."
Nyx felt it was necessary to apologize for his parents behavior. They have been less than diplomatic tonight and it must have been because of their pasts with Tamlin. Nevertheless, they invited Tamlin here tonight for peace and instead, offered spiteful exchanges. He glanced at Isa from the corner of his eye as they strolled down the garden path. It was beautiful especially at night. His aunt Elain tended to it often which made the flowers more beautiful than any other garden he had seen. He liked looking at her. Not necessarily for her beauty, although he could say with confidence that she was beautiful. She was not beautiful in the way that Elain or Mor were, but in the way that someone obviously powerful was. It was more about her essence. Everything about her was enticingly unique.
"That is strange, is it not?" She quirked a single eyebrow at him with a smirk lifting the edge of her mouth. He placed his hands in his pockets to avoid awkwardly fidgeting in the way his mother often did.
"What is strange?"
"That your mother left him for another man who zhe iz happily married to with three children, yet zhe haz ill will for him? Zeemz a bit backward, no?"
Nyx gave her a strange look. She had been hiding how heavy her accent truly was at dinner. Perhaps she had dropped her guard now that they were alone or perhaps she was tired of hiding it. Either way Nyx liked listening to it.
"Tamlin was awful to my mother when they were together. She's allowed to feel angry at him."
"Zo the story goez."
Isa stopped to pluck a particularly beautiful rose. Nyx took it from her hands gently. Only to stick it behind her ear. She gave him a small smile before they continued on their walk.
"How have I never heard of you?" Nyx asked the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since Tamlin introduced her. "You must be Pyrinthian's best kept secret."
Again, she sent him a small secretive smile while twirling down the path. Her dress made large swooping motions around her body as she seemed to dance to a song only found in her head.
"It iz tradition that young witchez are raised in their coven, completely izolated from other fae. It iz dangerous for young witchlings when their powers are not yet controlled. 'Unnatural' magic as your kin like to call it, does not lizten to the influence of the witch when their mind iz not strong."
"What can happen?"
"There are stories of young children killing their peers on accident when trying to show off."
"Is that why Fae fear your kind? Because it is unpredictable?"
"All witch magic has a price. The spirits aid us when we call onto them and they seek a price. There iz a method to the price but it iz subject to change depending on the spirit that answers. Your father was not wrong when he said blood magic brings chaos. The reason blood magic iz so feared iz because it can attract all zorts of evil spirits and monsters, which can be part of the appeal." She chuckled as she said this and shook her head. "How many times have your parents required the azzistance from a monster?"
"More than I would like to admit."
"Despite that, not all witch magic iz blood magic. Your father's ignorance iz thinking they are one in the same." Isa took a seat at one of the benches and Nyx followed suit. He sat a bit closer than newly acquainted fae should, but he hardly cared.
"So you were raised amongst your kind? Did you get to see your father much?" Nyx was curious about this secretive female. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.
"He caused havoc and mayhem in order to zee me. They refused until my first shape shift when I was two and they realized they did not know how to help that. My mother had been zecretly sneaking me to see him before then though."
"Fascinating."
"How do you know zo much about witches?" She asked while pushing her short hair behind her ear. Nyx reached out and clasped her hand in his. He started to trace a small tattoo on the outside of her pointer finger.
"Honestly? I do not know much. A few of them have given some information over idle pillow talk though." He admitted with a shrug.
"Charming. Speak of your past conquests to your new one." She said it with a wide smile, so Nyx was not concerned that he had actually upset her.
"I would not call you my new conquest." He gave her a cheeky smile that she shook her head to with a chuckle.
"No? Zo you escort me out here to win my heart or from the goodness of your own?"
"Perhaps I escort you out here as a gentleman."
"That iz not what your reputation would suggest." She lifted her eyebrows at him.
"I have a reputation?" Nyx was wholly unaware of any reputation that might precede him unless it had something to do with his parents. Isa pulled her hand back into her own lap.
"Nyx, prince of the night court, zon of Feyre 'cursebreaker' Archeron, high lady of the night court and Rhyzand high lord of the night court. Intelligent and agile. Mediocre combat training, excellent spy potential, enjoys the attention of any and all females, and zuccezzfully gains the attention with uave charm and dashing good looks."
"You definitely did your research." He leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms over his chest as she leaned in a bit more.
"Believe it or not, those words were straight from Lucien before we winnowed here." She mock whispered.
"That seems a bit unfair. He gave me no information on you. I'd also argue I am much better than mediocre at hand-to-hand combat." Nyx felt a bit miffed that he had been described as mediocre at anything, but begrudgingly he knew Lucien was right.
"Be careful, I might be tempted to challenge you." She gave a wickedly mischievous smile before turning her head up to look at the stars. She plucked the rose from behind her ear and began twirling it between her fingers.
"What would we be wagering for?"
"The title of best fighter. Might give our parents zomething to boast about." She continued to look at the sky instead of him.
"Hmm. Not appealing enough. Perhaps for a kiss though?" He jested. Although, he imagined a kiss from her would be amazing.
"I zuppose. If you think winning a kizz will be easier than charming one from me, then you have severely misjudged me."
"Oh I know," he sent a wide, goofy smile her way. "I would need you to kiss the pain away after you kick my ass."
"Relentlezz." A genuine smile finally lit her face up. It made her even more beautiful.
"You are a mind reader, right? Can you tell me what I am thinking of?" She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and rubbed her temples with her pointer and middle fingers. It was the epitome of concentration but it only caused him to laugh and shake his head.
"You mean my daemati powers?" He attempted to infiltrate her mind only to be met with steel mind barriers. He did not think his father would even be able to get past those.
"Daemati?" She drug out the word as if she was testing how it sounded on her lips. "How does it work?"
"For some people, I can slip into their mind and hear their thoughts and experience their memories. Your mind, however," he poked her forehead right between her eyebrows. "Is too guarded. I supposed I will have to get to know you the old fashioned way."
She pushed her bottom lip out in a pout.
"That iz not fun." He laughed loudly at her expression. She seemed truly gutted that he could not read her mind. It was such an opposite reaction to how most people felt of the ability. It seemed like the deepest of privacy invasions to most. It was why he tried to limit using it as much as possible.
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Mediocre damn-ti can be added to your list." She stood up and placed the rose that was in her lap behind Nyx’s ear. He laughed but left it there anyhow. They started back towards the house.
"Daemati. And I would say my inability to infiltrate your mind speaks more to the strength of your power than a lack of mine."
She sent him a mischievous smile before grabbing his hand and twirling herself under his arm as she hummed a tune. She amused him with her peculiar behavior.
"Are you nervous to be High lady some day?" He figured she of all people would understand the anxiety he has been feeling lately to fill his parents footsteps. What if he messed up? What if he failed?
"Have not thought of it much."
"Truly?" She gave a simple nod before responding.
"I worry more about my father's death than the power I would have after it. He iz all I have left."
"I always imagined my parents voluntarily stepping down to give me the title. They seem so invincible. Perhaps that is the child in me." He did not like to imagine their deaths, but even so at least he would have a plethora of help. He had so many mentors that could show him the way. He felt bad that Isa only had Tamlin. Lucien too, probably.
"It iz sweet that you feel that way. I have zeen too much to believe that anyone is invincible."
"I just worry that I will fail. Or that I won't live up to their standards." Nyx had many a nightmares about this specific situation.
"That iz a lot of prezzure considering you are not yet High Lord." She bumped his shoulder with hers. He stumbled a step from surprise, but bumped her back.
"I will be one day though."
"What if one of you zisters get the throne instead of you? And then you wasted all dis time for nothing."
"Neither want it. Even if the power transfers to them, they have both said they will leave the title to me."
"You will probably fail and ruin your parents hard work." She said in a serious tone with a grave look on her face.
"Thanks." He deadpanned.
"But you will have me as an ally, no? And I will be ready dig you out of whatever hole you have dug. I am quite wise and known for my generosity." He could sense a hint of sarcasm with her last sentence, but felt honored that she was so freely giving her support anyways.
"Be careful, you might be underestimating how much trouble I could get us into."
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[Kingdom Hearts] 11:11
Summary: Loosely based on @wait-still-rendering's story, Summer Shenanigans in Twilight Town: After losing his physical body in an undisclosed incident, Ventus tries to make amends to someone he broke a promise to. It's not easy- not when she's mourning his disappearance as well. But she had never liked him. Never. Everyone left her eventually, and it was just a fact of life.
So why did this hurt so much?
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1,467 words
If you liked this story, please reblog!
---
Everything finds its place and leaves
You took all of me and left
But like the two hands of the clock in my heart
I keep lingering in the same place
---
It felt weird, just phasing through her door to get into her room. He knew knocking would do no good in his current state. But still, this was practically an invasion of privacy. She’d have his head if she knew. The guilt felt a lot stronger than the hypothetical, so he entered anyway.
He let out a sigh of relief after seeing her at her desk. There was an even greater relief when he noticed she already put on her loungewear. No awkward, and thoroughly accidental, peep shows today. No sir. She might not have known he was there, but he could still give her respect.
“Whatcha workin’ on, Sabi?” he asked, in a normal tone, as he moved closer. He knew she wasn’t going to answer. It seemed easier to pretend that she could. Ignoring him was exactly something she’d do when she was annoyed with him anyway- it’s happened before.
At first Ventus thought she was doing something at her computer. It wasn’t until he got closer that he realized she was working on her calligraphy. Each stroke she took was done with purpose and precision. Her face reflected her concentration with an intense glare at the paper itself. Ventus held back the lump in his throat.
Sabrina was mad. Furious, even.
Sabrina Sidney was a person of subtle reactions. Her smiles were reserved for exactly three people, and only two had heard her laugh. Sometimes her silence was the scariest part about her. Those dark brown eyes of hers held a fire that refused to go out. One glare and you knew you were marked for death. Even if she was just reciting simple phrases with her calligraphy practice, there was a reason for it; she couldn’t go too slow or else the ink would blot. If she went too fast, the nuance in each stroke and curve would lose its meaning. So she used the practice as a way to force herself to think clearer; to calm herself down.
She never told him this. Ven had figured out on his own after several months of mistrials. Even as she swept her pen in graceful motions, her grip was too tight. If it had been a crayon, it would have snapped a long time ago.
Seeing her like this hurt him. No one had to tell him why she was upset. It was all because of him- because he broke a promise. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms, apologize profusely, and prayed that she was so relieved to see he was safe, she didn’t even fathom slapping him across the face. The best he could do now was stick his whole arm through her torso. He almost wanted to be slapped. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.
Normally the idea of not being tangible didn’t bother him. He could spend a whole week not thinking about it. But now? Being able to feel her anger with no way to soothe it? It made him feel helpless. Scared. He craved being able to run his hand down her ebony black hair, beach wave curls intertwining his fingers like silk. He never really had the chance before- he had always been the one to fall asleep on her, the prime opportunity to play with the other’s hair. Sabrina was always too guarded to trust someone like that. And that was okay, he didn’t expect her to. He had always been grateful just to know her most of the time.
“Sabreenie! Sabreenie!” six little voices squeaked at the door. It succeeded in scaring both Ven and Sabrina. The sudden noise had made Sabrina in particular jump- spilling a little bit of ink onto the paper and releasing an annoyed curse from her lips.
“Wait a minute!” she shouted back, almost in a bark. She then grumble-hissed something under her breath as she got up. Ven got out of her way, despite there being little reason for it. When Sabrina opened the door, she was greeted to six small blue bunnies, all stacked on top of each other so the highest one was about at her eye level.
“What?” Sabrina snapped. Ven flinched for the bunnies. As if he needed any other reason to assume she was upset…
“Mama has a present for Sabreenie! A good one!”
Sabrina’s jaw clenched. “Fine.” she agreed through gritted teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The bunny children all cheered as Sabrina left her room. It almost drowned out how hard she had slammed her door. Ven once more flinched, then stared at the door with a heavy heart.
He had to say something to her. He couldn’t let her keep suffering because he had done the unforgivable. But how? He didn’t think he had enough power to pick up the pen and write something before she came back. Ventus looked at the computer, considered the keyboard for a moment, then came to a conclusion.
. . .
Ortensia was a good person. Frequently Sabrina wondered how someone so sweet could get attached to someone like her- a terrible person with a heart of steel covered in thick layers of ice. Not that it mattered. She thrived when people thought she would fail.
Maybe that was why she was annoyed right now. Ortensia didn’t believe that Sabrina hated Ventus. Ventus, who had promised to take them on a date then never showed up. Ventus, who never answered her texts or calls after that like he had disappeared off the face of the earth. She didn’t need him. She didn’t care about him anymore either. She never liked him. Never. Ortensia was just being a mother and didn’t know a thing. No one knew what Sabrina was going through. Not a single person. She would suffer through this like she always did. It was the only thing she could rely on.
Sabrina lugged the stuff Ortensia had given her over to her desk. The phrase she had been trying to write (‘Never say goodbye. Goodbye means going away, and going away means fo-‘) quickly buried under a new set of stationary and ink refills. As she sorted through the inks, almost genuinely surprised at the variety, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that her computer monitor had come on. It took a moment longer to realize that there was a message, written on the computer’s default word processor. She stopped to read it over and could nearly feel her own heart stop the moment after.
‘Still here.’
For the first time, in a long, long time, a tear rolled down Sabrina’s face. She staggered back from her desk, nearly tripping on her rug in the process. A sense of reality came back to her when her back pressed against the opposing wall. Even then, everything felt numb; nothing seemed real.
“You-you don’t get to do this!” she finally screamed. She didn’t care if anyone else in the house, neighborhood, or country could hear her. This was between her and a ghost she couldn’t give up. “You hear me?! You! Can’t! Do! This!”
As another tear came down, and then another, Sabrina held herself close. Her heart hurt. It hurt so much she was ready to rip it out. Feeling this way was a weakness- a liability. She didn’t like him. She never liked him. The feeling was mutual, wasn’t it? That’s why he didn’t show up that day, right? It was just one big lie. One big, stupid, useless…
“I liked you.” she then said, quietly, as her voice quivered. It hurt talking now. More so from the scream than anything else. “I actually liked you…”
Her whole body shaking now, Sabrina slid down into a sitting position. She still held herself. She still cried tears that she thoroughly despised. No one was here. No one would ever be there. In the end, she was always alone. It would always be like that. Everyone left at some point. No one liked her that much. Absolutely no one.
For a small moment, it felt like a brush of static crossed her body. She shivered in reflex. Her lips soon had a certain itch to them as if she’s been kissed. Sabrina found her body too numb to react to the odd feeling right away. All she wanted to do was cry. The static made its way to her hand. If she could have focused for a moment longer, she would have felt the gaze of a soul just as remorseful as her. If not more.
‘I’m sorry.’ a small voice, nothing more than a breeze, whispered near her. Another tinge of static near her lips, and after that, her room was filled with a deafening silence.
Alone. She was alone again.
And he was never coming back.
#kingdom hearts#writers on tumblr#ventus#kh ventus#kingdom hearts oc#kh oc#kingdom hearts fanfiction#kh fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#kh fan fic#fan fiction#fan fic#self depreciating#angst#bunny kids#bunny children#ventus/oc#canon/oc
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Heartbreak
How could you do this to Enji?
A/N: I’m (officially) back baby! Uni hasn’t gotten better, I’ve just stopped caring.
CW: Yandere Content, invasion of privacy, unconsciousness, guns, degredation, marital abuse, abuse, planned murder, fucked up view of relationships.
---
Sitting on the couch, you anxiously looked at your phone. That lowlife assassin was going to kill him, right? Enji shouldn’t suspect anything, that fiery brute had all the brains of a duck. It was just a simple gunshot to the back of the head. His flame powers can’t protect him from that. Nothing that can go wrong there...
You nervously bounce your leg. He should be dead by now. You should’ve gotten the confirmation text by now.
Trying to fool the old man into loving you was sickeningly easy. Despite his intimidating exterior, he was so reserved and shut off from any human connection you just needed to exist next to him (with little open disgust) for him to start noticing you. Faking that you loved the lovesick fool had been a bit harder, but Enji was hardly ever free, so you just did your own thing most of the time, and responded with fake adoration whenever he managed to be in the same postcode as you.
Enji not bringing up a prenup before getting married had been mainly luck. There aren’t many good reasons for denying a prenup, so it was nice he did the leg work, or lack thereof, on that one. But yet, to get his fortune, you needed him dead. The old man wasn’t THAT old, and as such, this assassin was the best bet. Some rando guy with a gun and a flashy quirk. It wasn’t rocket science. The only reason Enji won his fights was the villains trying to face him front on. A gunshot to the back of the head by someone he didn’t see coming? Easy.
Well, it was meant to be easy. What was this idiot doing?! Endeavor should be dead by now!
You didn’t care much for the whole “no.1 hero” shtick Enji had going on either. There would always be another, and this city could go to the hounds for all you cared. You’d be far away on some private island home, enjoying the summer heat under a palm tree. Or maybe a snowy mountain, you never really liked the heat.
Walking into the kitchen, you shakily drank some water. It was all you could bring yourself to stomach. The cool water felt ice cold as it went down. That’s when you heard it. Footsteps on gravel. Heavy footsteps. Like someone was...walking to the front door. Cursing, you looked at your phone one last time before walking to the front door.
The person on the other side opened the door swiftly, before slamming it shut. You were faced with Enji wearing his hero suit, flames bursting off his face. He turned to you, and he was fuming.
“How was your day, honey? Are you okay?” you nervously queried, eager to try and calm your enraged lover.
His eyes thinned as he stared at you.
“Oh, it was fine, until some punk thought they could shoot me in the back of the head. Turns out when threatened with their life, they saw no point in protecting their..”
He gestured to you with disgust as his flames grew brighter.
“...employer.”
He stepped forward, bearing down on you as you nervously shook your head.
“I don’t know what you mean? Why would I do that? He’s just trying to set me up, I’m sure! He’s a weasel, they all are!”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Funny, I never mentioned that lowlife was a ‘he’.”
Gulping, you stepped backwards, wringing your hands together, eyes nervously darting around the room, looking for an escape. Landing on a window that leads to a fire escape, you turn on your heel, only for a hand to wrap around the back of your throat.
“No. You do not get to run away from this.”
He turns you around in his hand, still on your throat as he effortlessly drags you to the kitchen. With his free hand, he picks up your phone.
“What are you doing?”
“None of your business.”
He opens it effortlessly. You dismay at the fact that he seemingly knows your passcode. You never told it to him.
“Ha, what? Thought I would not know my lovers’ details? But alas, I know everything about you. Or well. I ASSUMED I did.”
He swipes through the phone, occasionally reading over certain texts, before crushing it in his hand. You shudder to think what the hand currently around your neck could do. He turns to you, eyes staring yours down.
“See, when I threatened that punk, he revealed some very interesting information. Like that my SPOUSE-”
His hand got noticeably tighter around your neck. You could barely still breathe, vision slightly blurring.
“-was just using me for my money. Which is interesting because I could swear that you were actually in love with me. Guess you should not have told your co-conspiritator so much. Classic mistake villains make. You would be surprised how often I come across it in my line of work.”
You try to gasp out an apology or rebuttal but it just comes out as wheezing. He won’t actually kill you, right? He’s just going to turn you into the police...right? You refuse to think about how he destroyed the evidence on the phone, and what that suggests regarding his next move.
“Go on. Refute these claims. If you tell me you love me, maybe I will believe it.”
His frown grows as, by his own design, you cannot reply to him.
“You must know that troubles me deeply. I cannot fathom how one could use someone like that. You are a truly terrible person.”
His gaze weakens.
“And yet, I still love you. So you leave me no choice but to...correct this behaviour.”
He walks to the guest room, which after 7 months of living with him in this apartment, you only now realise has no windows, and is fitted with a door that locks from the outside.
He closes the door and throws you onto the ground roughly.
Coughing, you turn to face him, your back against the luxurious carpet flooring.
“I’ll go to the police! I swear! They might not like what I’ve done, but if you touch me, it’ll be so much worse for you!”
His eyes grew dark as a chuckle escaped him.
“You really think you can escape me? I have dealt with way worse than a tiny, pathetic, disobedient spouse.”
He walks forward til his form is towering over yours. His feet are either side of your waist. He digs his heel into your side for good measure.
“You think I could not deal with a measly, poorly-planned assassination attempt? There have been much more elegant and better prepared plans to kill me that I have stopped in their tracks. If you actually engaged in a conversation with me, maybe you would have heard about them.”
He grabs your jaw with his hand, his inhuman heat unbearably close.
“I have to thank you though! All this time I thought I wanted a nice partner to spend my life with, but now I realise what I actually want.”
“And w-what is t-that?” You say shakily.
He chuckles as the flames on his body dissipate. He tenderly strokes your body with his free hand.
“I want a toy. Something of mine to break, burn, and punish. Stress-relief. And let's face it, who else am I going to find that is so irredeemably suited for the job?”
He looks you dead in the eyes with a cocky look on his face.
“You want an escape from your old life? So be it. Welcome to your new hell.”
#yandere#enji todoroki#boku no hero academia#yandere endeavor#yandere enji todoroki#mha enji#gender-neutral reader#reader insert#ImplexedWriting
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Please, Don't Go. - Chapter 10
Summary: We have entered the days of The Phantom Menace. These are a few snippets of the days before anything life changing.
W/C: 2.7k
Warnings: implied intimacy, fluff, angst, mention of violence
- - -
This time, you and the Jedi stayed in space instead of landing on another planet. This time, it wasn’t extended. Everything was quite uneventful, until a call came in.
“To the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo, you must go. Sneak through the blockade and deliver princess Y/N to Queen Amidala, our forces will. Negotiate, you must, Master Jinn.”
“Of course, Master Yoda.”
You and Obi-Wan had been listening to the exchange while playing a round of sabacc.
“Does he always talk like that,” you whisper to Obi-Wan.
He nearly spits out the water he had just sipped. When he managed to swallow, he did his best to keep his laughter quiet.
“Who? Yoda, or Qui-Gon?”
Now it was you who had to contain your laughter. He was delighted to hear it. These couple of days had been overly quiet. Sure, the two of you had talked often, and the same as Qui-Gon, but there was no laughter. A lot of it was reassurance, going over plans, and of confessing grief filled emotions.
Obi-Wan was there for it all. He didn’t care what it was about, he just wanted to be with you. He wanted to hold you as you fell asleep. Unfortunately, he hasn't been able to do the last one in these days. Someone now always had to be awake to ‘pilot’ the ship.
The previous night, you had come out to the cockpit with him. For a little while, the two of you were able to enjoy the other’s warmth as you both were on the floor, Obi-Wan’s head in your lap. You had stroked his hair and he was struggling to stay awake.
Now was a nice moment of downtime as you were finding out what was going to happen. The call to the Jedi originally had been to ask when they could bring you back, but it turned into a mission that you would now be joining. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited about seeing Padmé. Seeing the intricate way her security works would be an interesting experience to be graced with once again.
“Distracted by your arrival, they will be. Not notice the soon to be senator, flying by at the same time,” Yoda had said as your attention was finally brought back to listening to the plans. You were curious how you would get by. Now, you knew.
“Sounds like you get to do the fun stuff,” Obi-Wan whispered, but you groaned as you realized he had just one. He chuckled at your reaction. Would there ever be a day that you would beat him?
Obi-Wan had used your distraction to his advantage. Which, you guessed, was a perfect reason why Jedi always tell their padawans to never lose focus.
As you had promised, you slid over the single credit that you bet. Not wanting to actually gamble, the two of you only put one credit down for multiple rounds. Whoever had the most combined wins won. Obi-Wan somehow always pulled off the win. You would get close, as you two were tied often, but he always won the last round. One day, it won’t be like that.
“Y/N, Obi-Wan, time to get ready. We’re meeting up with another ship before heading to Naboo,” Qui-Gon cut in. The two of you only nodded and did what you were told.
-
“Y/N!” You were barely able to step off of the ramp before you were met with Padmé’s embrace. She was currently disguised as one of her handmaidens, which you were not shocked about.
Before this, Obi-Wan had been able to find a moment to give you a kiss before you parted to the other ship. Your mind was still lingering on the moment before landing.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Padmé,” you greeted and returned the tight embrace.
The two of you usually talked often. That hasn’t been so for the last while because of your predicament. You were able to call her one day when you were back home, but it was only a quick conversation.
Both of you hugged the other for a few more moments. When you separated, there was a sadder expression.
“Is everything alright?”
She took a breath, “The Trade Federation just cut off all communications. We’re expecting an invasion shortly.”
You were shocked. Weren’t Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon up there negotiating?
Padmé saw your look, “They said that they never arrived. That only means one thing-”
“They attacked them.”
Your friend nodded in agreement as you finished her thought.
“Come now. We need to get you disguised. Are you alright with becoming a handmaiden for a day?”
You only smiled which was also returned. In a strange sort of way, you had hoped for this. Not the fact that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan quite possibly could be hurt or the fact that Naboo was about to be overrun. You were hoping to be a handmaiden along with Padmé and the others.
-
Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think about you. He could only hope that you hadn’t been hurt and that you were safe.
As he was on the balcony, ready to jump down and free the queen and everyone else from the droids, he caught a glimpse of you. You were disguised as one of the handmaidens and you blended perfectly. He mentally thanked Padmé for that.
-
You don’t think you were able to hide the smile you had when you saw the two Jedi jump down. Padmé must’ve seen this because she gently nudged you with an elbow.
When the droids were dealt with, Obi-Wan’s gaze caught yours while Qui-Gon was talking and he flashed you a quick grin before turning back away. You knew he couldn’t get distracted now. You were, however, distracted by how looked while wielding his saber. You had yet to see him use it in this way.
Once your whole group got moving, everything happened so fast. You had no time to think, especially with blaster fire happening all around you in the hangar. All you knew was that you felt Padmé’s hand on your back, guiding you up the ramp of the ship.
You made sure just to stay with your friend. The Jedi were doing what they did best, and you didn’t know where else to go. It was a lot more of a bumpy ride getting away than it had been getting to Naboo.
Later on, the two Jedi had been addressing the queen, letting her know of the damage that had been done to the ship. You had never seen Obi-Wan this serious, but his hard expression softened as he let his eyes land on you. Wanting to comfort him, you smirked and watched as he relaxed a bit.
Once the discussion was over, Padmé pulled you along with her. She was going to clean the droid and she wanted your company.
“When were you going to tell me about you and the padawan?” She suddenly asked as soon as you were away from prying ears.
This took you by surprise and it clearly showed due to Padmé’s chuckling reaction. “W-What do you mean?” you stammered. If it was this obvious to your friend, then does this mean Qui-Gon knew?
“Oh, come on! It’s clear the two of you like each other just by how you look at the other.”
You felt as heat rose in your cheeks. She knew just by a few simple looks. You and Obi-Wan hadn’t even spoken to each other since you parted ways earlier and she knew. Yet, she was also the most perceptive person you knew but it still surprised you.
“You promise not to tell a soul?” You finally asked once Padmé started the cleaning of the droid.
“Not on my life. Now spill.”
-
Padmé listened with great amusement. There were a few moments where she had been so enamoured that she forgot that she actually was cleaning the R2 unit.
Of course, there were a few things you left out. Those were moments that you wanted to keep between you and Obi-Wan. Not that you didn’t trust your friend, it was just that private. Plus, that one night you and Obi-Wan shared, you didn’t think that your friend would approve. Even if she seemed like she would only cheer you on.
“I hope that nothing happens to you two. Is he going to leave The Order?”
“We talked about it, but I could never let him leave the only life he knows. He loves being a Jedi and I would never wish him to leave that just for me.”
“I feel like he would. He loves you, does he not?”
You nodded, but your opportunity to say any more on the matter was cut off as the door slid open. It revealed a Gungan with Obi-Wan just behind.
“Oh, I apologize. I wasn’t aware there was anyone down here,” Obi-Wan said.
“It’s quite alright,” Padmé was the only one brave enough to talk. She had a grin on her face as she looked at Obi-Wan. You didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or to refuse to react.
“May I borrow the princess? I need to talk to her about a few things,” he said with a slight blush on his cheeks after directing the Gungan, Jar Jar, into the room.
Your friend only nodded and you went to join Obi-Wan. As soon as the door closed, surrounding the two of you in absolute privacy, he kissed you along with pulling you close against him.
You melted against him. The two of you hadn’t been able to kiss in the last few days, and this was just a relief.
“I missed this,” you mumbled against his lips, not wanting to pull apart just yet.
“Me too,” he replied the same way. You didn’t know when the two of you would be able to do this next, so you were drawing it out for as long as you possibly could.
When you both had to catch your breaths, Obi-Wan kept his nose nuzzled next to yours.
The two of you were basking in every little touch while looking in the other’s eyes. Then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Usually you would think it was out of content, but this wasn’t it. It seemed more worried.
“What’s wrong?”
He pulled his head away and opened his eyes, but kept your bodies pressed together. He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of how well you could read him.
“Well, Qui-Gon is going out to get new parts for the ship alone. I trust him, but Tatooine isn’t a friendly place.”
“I remember the stories. I’m sure he won’t get tied up with the Hutts.” You brought your hand up and stroked his hair above his right ear. It’s a motion that you learned calmed him, sometimes to the point where he’ll get drowsy. For now, it was only for comforting him. It comforted you as well as you felt the soft strands.
Obi-Wan moved his head so that it wouldn’t interfere with your ministrations, but so that he could press a kiss to your wrist.
Now, he sighed, content. You never failed to ease his worries. Plus, he would have you with him while his master was out.
“I should go, my dear.”
You nodded and pressed one more kiss to his lips.
“I’ll see you soon.”
-
When both Qui-Gon and Padmé had gone, it left the little storage room empty at all times. Due to the sudden departure, the room’s usual use was obsolete. You had also found out that the Jedi didn’t know that Padmé was the one who left. They surprisingly didn’t know of the clever tactics that they use on Naboo. So, you kept quiet.
This storage room became your secret meeting spot. Obi-Wan wasn’t actually needed that much, other than keeping his comm on for his master. Other than that, the rest of the ship’s passengers would let him know if something was happening.
So, this was the room where you spent quality time together. You would often prop yourselves against the wall and lean against each other, or Obi-Wan would lay his head in your lap so you could play with his hair the way he loved.
“How’s Qui-Gon doing?” Obi-Wan had mentioned a few things here and there, but he generally stayed quiet. You knew it was because he was worried in his own way. To him, he would see it more as just a shift in the force. He would deny actually being worried until his dying breath, you thought.
Obi-Wan’s eyes met yours from his place in your lap. He shifted, which only caused his head to press more comfortably against your legs. It looked like he was trying to choose his words carefully.
“He met a slave boy that’s working to help us get the parts we need. Qui-Gon had sensed how strong the force was with the boy. So, he sent a blood sample to find out his midi-chlorian count. It was off the charts,” he said.
You remember him telling you about midi-chlorians. It was one of the things that you found the most interesting of all the Jedi lessons you’ve gotten from Obi-Wan.
Your eyes went wide, “What does that mean?”
He closed his eyes and tilted his head so that his face was pressing into your stomach. You couldn’t tell if he was trying not to say it, or if it was for extra comfort. His small, satisfied exhale told you it was comfort.
“There’s a prophecy about one who will be born with such a strong connection to the force. It says that they will bring balance to the force.”
“And Qui-Gon believes it’s this boy?”
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and did his best to look in your eyes without moving his head from its comfortable position. Then, slowly, he nodded.
“There is one issue,” he said quietly. You gave him an imploring look which caused him to lightly chuckle. “The Order usually starts training at an early age to help prevent attachments-”
“Ironic,” you couldn’t help but say it.
He moved his head back so that he could properly look at you with a smirk. You were very well aware that he too was taken into the order a little older than what they usually allowed.
“I’m sure any Jedi would be captivated by you, my dear. That is, if I hadn’t snagged you first,” he took your free hand and kissed your knuckles.
You giggled lightly as he fluttered his eyelashes against your skin.
“In all seriousness,” he continued, placing your hand against his chest, “I’m not sure the council will take him in because of it. That’s what I’m truly worried about.”
Slowly, you nodded, piecing everything together in your mind.
“What if that is what they say? How do you think he’ll react?”
Obi-Wan let out a huff of laughter, “He’ll probably still train the boy against their wishes.”
“What would that mean for you?”
He shrugged. “If they agree, that means I’ll probably take the trials. I’m supposed to soon, anyways.”
The hand that you were stroking his hair with rested on his cheek. He loved how soft your hands were. As he looked into your eyes, it was like they were smiling just like your lips were.
“My handsome Jedi,” you whisper. “You’ll do amazing, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, my love,” he replied, squeezing the hand that still lay on his chest.
Before anything else could happen, Obi-Wan’s comm beeped. He sighed as it was a matter that he actually had to tend to.
In response, you leaned down and he propped himself on an elbow as your lips pressed to his. This was a tactic to give him more motivation to do what he was supposed to. Even if he constantly said that he would rather just stay with you, which you did want. But he was needed for far more important matters than just to be with you.
Once again, he sighed. “Alright, darling. You convinced me.”
- - -
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