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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 2 years

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Hot Dogs and Small Talks (One-Night Stands, Part 4.)

Description: Chief Hopper has been a mystery since he appeared back in town. Most people considered him a “lost, whoring-around alcoholic junkie”. But what if he actually manages to find a friend amongst all the known strangers he meets in Hawkins daily?

Part Summary: Being the one Hopper decided to turn to in the time of biggest distress officially made you someone he not only wanted to bang, but also someone he wanted to befriend. Yet, to be honest, it only meant that there was more trouble to come.

Word Count: 4 K

Tagging: @theinfaethablefig

Master list: One-night Stands | Jim's playlist: H E R E

James Hopper was usually confident in everything he was doing.

He was confident when he dealt with solving and resolving crimes, he drove with confidence, sang with confidence (even though he couldn't sing for the love of God) and he even seduced women with a strong amount of it. What did he have to fear, right? Not that he would think he was the best-looking fella around, but he surely knew his looks weren't the worst. Yet sometimes, the demons got him all of a sudden, pinning him to the ground until he couldn't breathe. These demons could get him anywhere at any time - but around his "anniversaries", the demons got worse, louder, and greedier than usual. And on those nights, he really feared being alone by himself in his trailer.

Usually, James decided to solve his problems with alcohol. On those nights, you'd find him in one of Lafayette's or Kokomo's bars either picking up ladies or playing pool with the guys inside... Occasionally even starting a fight. Which was his favorite activity when nights got like this.

The thing about the year's anniversary was that it didn't take place on a weekend night and it came all of a sudden while he was focused on something entirely else, which left him defenseless in the end. Yeah, sure, he could go for a quick trip to Kokoma, but he didn't even feel like that.

Since you were the closest at the time he felt the most distressed, you were his victim. Sure, he was trying to get under your skirt, but now he wasn't even hoping anything would happen that night. James just needed someone to talk to, someone who'd listen to him. You didn't seem a bad pick - you could be quite funny when you felt like being playful and he even managed to get you over the "you're fucking weird" phase. Now, you were more or less relaxed in his presence, shaking your head when he dropped an innuendo, laughing with him.

That brought you back into the moment. Opening your mouth, you looked up to Hopper standing there with an expression of a martyr. James was standing in front of the cash register with his hands in his pockets, his stare piercing the six-pack you were still holding onto. Well this was a conundrum, wasn't it? For some random reason, you were interested in Hopper ever since you met him in his "furrow and apathy" days, then it turned out he'd actually want to have a fun one-time with you (that was your theory at that time, at least) and now he was standing in front of the register, asking you for a bit of your time. For some reason, this wasn't going the way you'd expect it to go.

For the first time ever, you didn't seem to see the "I don't give a damn fuck" in front of you. You weren't looking at the ladies' man either - this man was broken, sad, and lonely. Not apathetic or furious... Just broken. Deciding against your better judgment, you set the six-pack on the counter, looking at your wristwatch. "I can close the store two hours early, at 8 p.m., cannot do much more, unfortunately." - You mumbled, moving on to clicking the numbers on the register, not sparing Hopper another look. - "Does that work?" - Then you did something Hopper saw for the first time in a long time - you gave him a genuine smile. Sure, he made his subordinates laugh, ladies giggle and most of the people grin, but he hadn't seen a true, genuine smile in a few good years.

"You're a miracle worker, Y/N. Thank you. Hotdogs will be on me." "Wouldn't go with you otherwise." - Alright, you weren't stopping at a smile. Now you snickered too. - "Hope this isn't a date or anything, Hopper. Wouldn't like to interpret the situation in a wrong way." - Now, he felt a smile creeping in as well. So far, you seemed to be not only the only choice he had but the right one as well. In the end, even though you were just casually flirting for the last two weeks, you were probably the closest he had to a friend at the moment. Sure, he could call Joyce, but he wasn't exactly nicest to her lately.

Joyce was that kind of person who'd still take him in with her arms open - she was always like that. A beautiful, bright woman with a great spirit and a great heart. Her problem was that she knew - she knew his history since they knew each other for a very long time... And they even used to be friends back in the day. Joyce knew about Vietnam, about him moving to New York, about Diane... And... Joyce knew... She knew about her. About his small precious angel, his baby girl. And that was why Jim didn't want her to help. You were willing to spend an hour or two without knowing too much. What did you even know? That he's a grumpy asshat? And who didn't know that?

"I would never." - Jim played it off cool, shaking his head. - "Clearly, you're the only one having a wrong idea here. See you at eight, then?" "Woah, first asking me out and then forgetting to pay? Geez. 8.75, come on." - Just when he picked up the six-pack, you grabbed the other half of it, bringing down it down with a loud bang. Sure, it wasn't like you thought Jim is about to steal, but you really didn't want to pay it from your pocket. A moment later, you watched him leaving the shop - when he turned around for some reason, you waved at him, giving him another smile.

After talking to Karen, you were growing to like her more and more, who came to shop with her older son Mike, the rest of the day had gone by quite quickly. Of course, you informed Donald about closing two hours earlier (which he didn't say anything against since you were the only worker in town for the past two weeks), it was almost eight p.m. Humming one of those seventies guitar songs, you restocked some of the items in the electronics section, making sure everything was ready for the following day. The very last thing you did was that you hung your blue uniform in the back closet, noting to yourself that you truly had to sweep the floors as soon as possible. You didn't really want to, but someone had to. You couldn't just let Joyce walk into a messy excuse for a store. Furrowing and pressing your lips together, you watched the mess once more as you put on a light sweater. By a lucky coincidence, it was also the sweater you had on when you first walked around Hawkins - the one that brought both bad and good memories.

Taking in a long breath, your mind pushed you down the memory lane against your better judgment; you could still feel the itching as the man stared right at you. You remembered the first time he had ever seen you in this article of clothing and as you caressed the intricate patterns on it, recalling the way the man was smiling at you. The sun was shining through the windows of your apartment, filling the space up with warmth and light. But then something snapped, something changed; something so profound that you simply had to escape.

From the corner of your eye, you already saw Hopper parking in front of the store as you walked around and turned off all the lights. Grabbing your purse, you locked the cash register and pulled out the keys, closing the store for the night. For a short moment, you stood there in absolute silence, thinking about everything and anything at the same moment.

To your surprise, the man jumped out of the driver’s seat and stood standing in front of the car, dressed in one of those flannel shirts that looked super fly and expansive as shit - you never saw James Hopper appearing as normal as he appeared that evening. The work-related thoughts were suddenly forgotten as you put a hand on your hip, watching him smoke.

You hoped, for the love of God, that this wasn’t what it clearly indicated - Hopper trimmed his facial hair, quite clearly, dressed up all posh and stuff, picked you up, and intended to pay for you; what did he expect in return? You hoped his expectations were low because you grew to like his continuous attempts to seduce you. It was fun and it complimented you quite a lot; you weren’t ready to cut it all off just yet. Taking in a deep breath, you clung your hand onto the strap of your bag and reached for your keys as you walked out, locking the store.

“Hey.” - The man sprung on his feet immediately, opening his arm while looking at your post-work glory; sweaty and a bit greasy hair, your skin tone paler than usual and the bags under your eyes were dark blue. And to him, you still looked pretty darn attractive, to be honest; but that was something Hopper shook out of his head quite quickly, since he wasn’t in the mood for games, really. - “Hey.” - You mumbled back, opening your arms in the same way he did just to put them back down; as you sat down next to him, the awkwardness and silence were through the roof - and his song choice made you cringe even more. The first notes of Stand by Me started playing melancholically as you rolled your eyes. o much so that you closed your eyes and clenched your teeth together quickly before looking at him.

“Hopper, listen…” - You started before realizing that the man is looking at the radio of his Blazer with the same panic as you did, pressing next as if his life depended on it. Holy shit, you thought to yourself, this was a funny fucking coincidence. “I didn’t even know I have Ben King on this tape when I put it in an hour ago, I swear on my damn life.” - The man swore, and just the fact that you were snickering made him snicker back at you as he lowered the volume of the music, putting both his palms back on the steering wheel. - “How was work? All good?”

“Moderate I’d say.” - You answered honestly and rolled your window down, leaning your elbow into the frame as you played with the cold wind. - “Nothing too exciting. Karen Wheeler stopped by with her son who was giving me nasty looks, but I don’t think it was personal - he had to look after his younger sister, so he was annoyed. Joyce said he’s kinda cool when he hangs out with Will.”

“Oh, yeah, Joyce. How’s she?” - James asked while pulling his own window down, finishing his cigarette; the interaction was so regular, nothing out of the ordinary, and yet, it felt like the weirdest thing ever. You didn’t know how James managed to be present and absent at the same time, but you were fascinated by this trait; while humming at everything you told him, he was still furrowing in front of himself, not sparing you a single unnecessary look. - “She’s slowly losing her sanity; the first few days, she said the days off are magical, but now she can’t wait to get back to work. She says she’s getting bored out of her mind. And… What about you?” “What about me?” “Um, anything? How was your day, how you’re doing?”

That was when Hopper finally paid you a fair amount of attention. The man turned his head in your direction for a bit, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to figure out what should he answer. In the end, he just nodded awkwardly and literally stuttered out his answer.

"It... It was just another day at the station. I'm doing as usual." - The entire time, he kept on nodding to assure himself; making you sense the stench of bullshit in the air. The usual meant brooding and furrowing at everyone at everything he came in contact with - you've seen his 'usual' first hand. This was far from it, actually; this person was unsure and scared. So in response, you just lifted your eyebrow and asked... - "Are you sure about that?"

"Obviously." - Hopper snickered ironically, putting his big boy antics on. And after he said that, you both fell completely silent. Whatever he was going through, he obviously wasn't gonna simply spill the beans and tell you his darkest secret. Not that night anyway. To be fair, you understood that sentiment; you wouldn't talk to him about your former boyfriend either. The memories were bringing you a lot of pain and uncertainty, your self-confidence was mostly left in shambles and until that very day, you were still reminding yourself of what the asshole yelled at you at the top of his lungs. You knew that none of what your ex had spat in your face was true, but it still made you doubt yourself greatly. Who even were you? What were you even worth? What was holding you in this world? It would be so easy to...

Holding onto the door handle a bit too harshly made you snap out of all the thoughts circling through your mind. Hopper was still staring in front of himself with one of his elbows leaned into the opened window beside him as he watched the road with a bored expression. You've left Hawkins by that point, now driving through a deep, dark forest. There was something about the wilderness surrounding Hawkins that made you uneasy. You didn't really know why you felt so weird about the masses of trees and rocks covered in moss, but you were fairly sure that it wouldn't be a hiking destination of your choice. - "I know you're the chief of police." - You mumbled, giving him a careful smirk. - "And murder would be easy for you to just cover, but... I hope you're planning on dropping me in front of my place."

It was a rather joke you had just made; so much so that it made Hopper laugh quietly while turning left off the main road. "Lucky for you, I'm not in the mood for making a mess. But for real." - The man joked back, pointing his finger forward, making you look out of the window. - "This is the best hot-dog place you'll ever visit." In front of you, there was a small cabin with a neon sign that said 'Harry's'. Nothing more, nothing less - just Harry's. It was built directly next to a lake, having multiple piers around. It reminded you of a fisherman's hut; there were barrels, nets, and piles of ropes everywhere. If someone would take you here during the day, you'd never suspect it could be a restaurant. Parking the Blazer on the dusty driveway, you two didn't spend any time just looking around.

Hopper lead the way, giving you a moment to take the atmosphere in - the mass of water was making the air a bit chillier, the crickets were loud as all hell here in the middle of nowhere and the splashing of water was making you relaxed. Harry's establishment had a great view of the entire lake, especially if were to walk on one of the piers and took a look around. - "You good?" - The man called out to you when he saw you standing at the edge of the wooden construct, hugging yourself as you took in the surroundings. "Yea, sorry." - You smiled back, finally catching up with him.

The interior of the establishment was just as nice as the outdoors - the cabin had a story, and history could be felt as soon as you walked in. Everywhere around the walls, there were various fishing trinkets and big, black and white pictures of boats and fishermen; some, you assumed, were either former owners of said cabin or used the building previously. The tables were neatly set and cleaned, even though there haven't been many customers visiting at this time of the day. There was one old jukebox standing in the corner, playing pretty neat tunes. Overall, you found the place very enjoyable. Hopper walked to the owner nonetheless, leaning his elbows into the counter while lighting up another cig. You followed his example, pushing yourself up on the bar stool.

"Jim!" - To your surprise, the owner wasn't any guy in his late fifties with grey hair, wrinkles, and a big, good ol' smile. It was a woman in her thirties with her hair loosely framing her face. And dear lord, she was very pretty. - "What a surprise, haven't seen you in ages." "Same goes to you, Agnes. You look better and better each time I swing around here." - Suddenly, the flirty Hopper you knew was back - you knew the crooked smile, gently closed eyes, and tone of voice. Oh. So that was what Jonathan was talking about. The ladies' man Jim Hopper.

"Oh, come on, stop. I'm not giving you a discount." - Agnes shushed him while polishing a glass, turning her head to you. - "I assume you're here with him, eh? Don't mind him, he's an asshole." "Not fair." - Hopper protested with a chuckle, turning his eyes to you to hear your answer. "I kinda figured already, don't worry Agnes." - And at that, Agnes started to laugh loudly. Hopper, who should've seen that coming, simply tapped the counter and smiled ever more widely. To be fair, he didn't expect the evening to feel like that at all; he didn't expect to feel welcomed and kind of... What was the word... Happy that you're there. What you couldn't know was that Agnes was his old high-school friend who, as it turned out, was dating a woman as you spoke - it would be understandable if the friendly flirting would make you feel weird.

"Oh, Hopper, I like this girl. Where did you find her?" - The woman asked and patted your hand resting on the counter. - "I'll give you a discount, though. Don't worry." "Thanks." - You said with shy giggling, turning away from her.

Just ordering food took you twenty minutes - the conversation between the three of you was playful and pleasant, and you enjoyed every single bit of it. Hopper and Agnes bounced off each other with a great deal of laughter sandwiched within, making you join the conversation just when you felt like it. Agnes liked you, she really did; she really liked how your sassy one-liners made Hopper look at you with his lips parted, furrowing at what you've just said. Somewhat, she got the feeling that you're not one of his dates - you've been too dressed for that, you've been too polite for that and sadly, you were smarter than most of the women James tended to bring into her small restaurant. She sort of wished you were though because you'd be the first normal woman Jim would be able to seduce after fucking years.

"Here it is." - Agnes said while putting two hot dogs down on the countertop, springling mashed potato chips right on top of them, and putting two cans of coke right next to them. You needed to say that you haven't seen a hot dog looking as good as that, James was right. - "One of the best hot dogs in goddamn Indiana. Take my word for that."

"They look absolutely delicious." - With that, you finally slipped off the barstool and picked up your hot dog, making sure it won't fall out of your grasp. - "Thanks, Agnes. I'll definitely pop by sometime, because holy damn. And you want only four dollars for this amount of food? Wow." - When you were done praising the hot dog (which made the woman grin at you amusingly), you turned your head back to Hopper. - 'Wanna sit on the pier? The view looked fantastic." "Yea, sure." - James answered while picking his stuff up. As soon as you were out of the door, Agnes tugged on his flannel shirt, almost making him drop the food. Her eyes pierced right through his emotionless expression. - "This was the most normal, intelligent, and lovely girl you've ever brought here. And you only let me meet the women that pass into the second round of selection. If you fuck up, you're a goddamn fool. Just wanted to tell you that, moron."

At first, Hopper stood there and watched his friend furiously polish some of the mugs for beer, not knowing what this was about; only until he opened up his mouth with a slight 'awww' coming out. He could be so dense at times; so much so that Agnes repeated the awww mockingly. "You got all of this wrong." - He said, cracking up a bit while watching Agnes' eyes looking slowly rolling back. - "Yea, she's really pretty and I thought about that stuff, yannow, but... I'm not making a move here tonight, Agnes. Do you know what date it is?" - Upon that question, she glanced over to the calendar - she knew. Of course, she knew. - "She's not my date. She's my friend." - And with that, Hopper left the establishment, following you to the edge of the pier where you sat down and waved your legs around like an actual kid.

"Agnes is really nice and fun. You known her for long?" - You said while Hopper dropped next to you in the least elegant way possible. The man didn't answer to what you just said, he simply hummed and took a bite out of the hot dog. You were totally right - the view was simply magical. The air smelled fresh and damp, mixed in with the typical scent of the woods Hopper loved so much. Sometimes, while you stared at the water, you could see the fish splashing around and swimming here and there. "I know you're not fine." - You said all of a sudden, making Hopper choke on the bite he had just taken. He had to crack his can open and take a long chug to make sure he won't asphyxiate. - "It was pretty obvious that something had happened when you asked me to hang out with you, let alone that I'm basically a stranger to you. And I understand what's it like to feel isolated and lonely, like you don't have anyone to talk to or to confide in." - Saying that, you took another bite yourself, waiting for him to answer. Yet there was nothing more but the splashing of the water, the sounds of the forest, and the buzzing of crickets disturbing the silence. "I won't make you talk about what's really on your mind, or what happened, since you obviously don't want to tell me. Sure, it would be nice to know once some time passes by, but you have the right to keep your secrets safe. It wouldn't be too nice of me to do anyway, would it? But I want you to know that I really appreciate being the one you asked to help you out." - And with that, you gave him one of the purest smiles anyone had ever given to him. - "And I also appreciate that you showed me this hot dog place, Agnes fucking knows what she's doing."

It was officially at that moment when you stopped being the object of his lust - you were something more than that. You started to become his friend. That also meant that things were only about to get more and more complicated for Jim.

#stranger things #stranger things netflix #jim hopper x fem!reader #james hopper #we do love us a hopper in this house

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amerrierworld · 3 years

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Not a total frickin’ idiot

For the request: R x Daphne Kluger. R being a part of the original Heist Crew and also being the one Daphne approaches. They’re super flirty w/ each other and everyone knows that they like each other except themselves.

Summary: You thought you had gone unnoticed at the Met, but Miss Kluger never forgets a face.

Characters: Daphne Kluger x fem!reader, the Ocean’s team

Word Count: 1,657

Warnings: swearing!? Do i still have to put a warning for that? idk

If you had learned anything about diva actress Daphne Kluger from Rose, it was that you don’t speak unless spoken to first.

And considering she didn’t talk to you at all during the heist, you were able to get around the entire night never uttering a single word to her, fulfilling your role on the team without any kind of hiccup.

So you were quite surprised when she had slid into your booth at your favourite coffee shop, giant sunglasses and a fashionable sunhat masking her face. You looked up from your phone and were about to comment about your booth being taken until you recognized her.

Your mouth hung open a little bit as she took off the hat and glasses. Her lips were painted a deep red and her outfit was impeccable, as always.

“Say..” she immediately said, pearly whites nearly blinding you as she smiled, “you were at the Met, weren't you?”

“I- I’m sorry?” you began. “I don’t know-”

“Oh my god! You totally were! You were wearing that adorable dress. Gosh, you looked so good.”

You were blushing hard, because in a matter of barely a minute, Daphne Kluger, gorgeous movie star, had called you adorable and good-looking all in the same sentence.

“I was there too- well, obviously you know that,” she chuckled, “and I was wearing that beautiful diamond necklace, don’t you remember? It was all over the news. Especially when I supposedly lost it.”

“O-oh? Right, y-yes I remember reading about it in the news..”

“And you know.. I couldn’t help but wonder how weird my designer was acting all night. And that lady in the black from the staff, who found my necklace? You’d almost think they were acting.”

You were almost as pale as a sheet at this point, gripping your cup in shaking fingers.

“And you know what’s funny? I saw you talking to both of them during the night. I mean, how couldn’t I notice? You looked so gorgeous, almost like you were asking me to see you.”

You gulped, “I do not know what you’re talking about, Miss Kluger-”

“Just call me Daphne,” she leaned forward, lips spread in a feline smile, elbows resting on the table and propping her head up on her hands.

“Y/N, right? I asked for your name from the guest list, I hope you don’t mind. They let me in on those sorts of things anyways.”

“That’s me,” you replied.

“Do you know Debbie Ocean? Of course you do, you two also seemed pretty close all night, hm? You’re lucky I was the only one who noticed.”

“What?”

“I’ve been approached by an investigator who seems really interested in her because the uh, necklace turned out to be a fake.”

You tried to pretend to be surprised at the news, but you couldn’t muster it, and Daphne looked at you knowingly.

“Luckily, I didn’t tell him any of your names, because I wasn’t sure if I was right. But you just confirmed all my suspicions anyways, so..”

“Are you threatening me?” you narrowed your eyes at her, and she gasped in mock offence.

“Of course not!” she leaned forward, giving you ample view of her cleavage, hand trailing over yours,

“I’m seducing you, Y/N.”

You didn’t know what to say as she looked at you with those deep, telling eyes. Her own eyes flickered appreciatively over your features, and you wondered if she was checking you out or if she was simply acting.

A small group of fans approached the table, chittering and blushing at the sight of Daphne Kluger in a meagre coffee shop such as this one. She smiled amicably, accepting their compliments and giving them autographs, before saying,

“You’re all so sweet, but do you think you’d be able to let my girlfriend and I have some privacy for the rest of our date? Thaanks,” she waved as the fans rushed off, gasping and gossiping amongst themselves at the prospect of the Daphne Kluger having a girlfriend.

“Girlfriend?” you asked once you found your voice again. She only grinned and winked at you.

“Oh, don’t be like that baby. Now, are you gonna tell me about the necklace, or what?” she sipped your drink and your mouth went dry.

“Chilly,” Daphne remarked at the glances given by the rest of the group, “what about, ‘Hi Daph, welcome to the team. Let’s not all high five at once.’”

You chewed your lip, bounced your leg, avoided her gaze altogether, and tried very hard not to look at how good she looked in her black dress. You were sitting across from the couch where she had plopped down, hunched in the metal framed chair.

“Why’d y’let her get to you, Y/N. I told you not to draw attention to yourself!” Rose said to you, after you and Debbie had explained how Daphne had found you, recognized you and called out the plan. You, being the newbie in the ways of criminality, could barely think of a cover up and ended up bringing her to Debbie with a spluttering confession.

“She didn’t,” Daphne’s eyes were locked on yours, “I just noticed her myself.”

You blushed a little and looked away. Debbie looked at you apologetically, knowing you felt put on the spot.

“Plus,” Daphne continued, “I am the one who is saving your asses from insurance fraud, okay?”

The team burst into shock, responses flying left and right.

“I-I was gonna get to that,” you said hastily, eyeing Debbie, who stepped in,

“It seems that they’ve assigned an insurance investigator-”

“Who’s about to look up your asses with a flashlight,” Daphne pointed out.

“Who?”

"Oh, this little Columbo dude, everything but the trench coat, totally on to you.”

“His name is John Frasier,” Debbie said.

"Wha- you know him?” Amita spluttered in disbelief.

“Yes, he busted my father twice, my brother once.”

“He’s family,” Lou added.

“Lest we forget, this entire enterprise was to keep me out of jail,” Rose interrupted, worry etched on her face.

“No one is going to jail,” Lou assured her.

“We expected this, we prepared for this,” said Debbie. Not many of the team seemed to believe her, with Nineball adding,

“Yup... that’s clear.”

“We will not be the prime suspect,” Debbie said sternly.

"Then who will be?”

“Well,” you added, “we’ve got the security guys, the busboys-”

“...The shady guy who put you away,” Tammy sighed, arching an eyebrow at Debbie, who could barely contain the smirk on her face. Daphne stared at her incredulously,

“..the boyfriend.”

"Mhm,” Debbie replied, “they were gonna be looking for somebody, just had to make sure it wasn’t one of us.”

Lou nodded in approval, adding a faint, “that’s nice.”

"Thanks.”

“Wow... that is amazing,” Daphne grinned, chewing her gum in delight, “the precision, right? It’s always the attention to detail and the little grace notes that really make something sing.”

A short silence followed. Glances were cast between the rest of you, wondering what on earth had gotten into Daphne’s head.

“...Why are you doing this?” Tammy asked, clearly dumbfounded by this multi-millionaire actress dropping into their party. Daphne stilled for a moment, her eyes flickering to you for a second before saying,

“I.. don’t have that many close female friendships. Plus bookclubs are the worst, so I just thought y’know... could be something fun to share?”

“You’re becoming a criminal because you’re lonely?”

“...Who isn’t sometimes, right?”

"Are you an only child?” you asked her. Her silence told you enough.

The team seemed to accept at that point that Daph was there to stay, so they went about their usual business.

“Beer?” Lou offered you, which you immediately said yes to, feeling a little woozy after that whole experience.

Tammy went to the kitchen and opened another pizza box, and you went to grab a slice for yourself before calculating your next move carefully, hoping your brain wouldn’t short circuit as you grabbed another slice and headed to where Daphne was sitting by herself.

You sat next to her, very very awkwardly, and offered her the paper plate.

“Aw, thanks,” she smiled, cheering up a little, “you know you don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be nice to me because you feel bad for me. Look, I’m sorry I cornered you the other day. I didn’t mean to seem desperate or whatever.”

“You- you didn’t seem desperate,” you frowned, “and I don’t feel bad for you. Whatever gave you that idea?”

She looked at you with a mouthful of pizza, and made an exasperated gesture to your whole surroundings, indicating the events that had just occurred. She also didn’t want you to know how she had been dying for your attention the minute she had seen you at the Met.

“Oh, well, I mean, I think your reasoning was perfectly justified,” you cocked your head at her and smiled. Then you lifted your pizza and said,

“to crime!”

The rest of the group cheered and replied with the same phrase, lifting their beers or pizza with glee. Daphne blushed at the exclamation.

“Now you,” you said, nodding encouragingly.

“What?”

“Do it! If you’re gonna be a part of the Ocean’s team, you gotta get with the rituals.”

“Rituals?” Daphne scoffed. But then she saw your dopey smile and sparkling eyes, and her insides melted. She delicately lifted the pizza and said,

“to crime!”

You laughed and sipped your beer.

“Ten bucks says they’re dating by next week,” Nineball said in the kitchen, peering into the fridge.

“I say by the weekend,” Constance offered.

“Idiots,” Rose shook her head. “If tonight is gonna keep up like this, I say by the morning.”

They eyed you and Daphne chatting away on the couch, completely forgetting about everyone else.

“Not so lonely anymore I guess,” Tammy smiled.

“Told you, crime’s good for many things,” Debbie nudged her and smiled at Lou, who rolled her eyes playfully.

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skylarmoon71 · 3 years

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Bumblebee x Reader (Transformers)- Chapter 4

“Did I oversleep again?”

You squint, raising your head from your pillow. You almost jumped at the sight of the Autobot sitting in your room.

“B-Bee!”

You covered your mouth when you realized how loudly you said that. Running to the door, you locked it before turning back to him.

“W-What are you doing, how did you even get in with no one seeing.”

Looking out the open window, you realized it was still pretty dark. You just sighed. He was sitting with his legs pulled to a side. Because of his size, and the lack of room, there wasn’t much space for him to spread out.

“I missed you sport.” you couldn't be mad after he said that. It was only a weekend and he was already lonely.

“I’m surprised Sam never notices when you sneak away. Then again he’s probably used to it by now.”

Bumblebee was just sitting attentively, looking at you with those curious blue eyes. Now that he was just staring at you, it made you a little self conscious. You hadn’t exactly prepared for his arrival. All you had on was a tank top and a pair of shorts. You tugged at the shirt, looking down at your feet nervously.

“(Y/N).” you looked up at the sound of his call. He held out his hand for you. Stepping forward a bit hesitant, you took his hand. He guided you to the spot right between his legs, and you followed, sitting down. With your back to his chest, you tried to keep your eyes forward. Your nerves were on end.

“Bee you...when did you get your voice fixed?” you needed to make some type of conversation to keep your mind occupied, that seemed like the best topic. He sounded so different when he said your name, with no help from the radio it appeared.

“Ratchet has been helping me, do you like it?” you nod, turning slightly to look up at him.

“Mhmm, it suits you.” He sounded like a regular teenager. Yet still slightly mature.

“I’ve been learning a lot of things while you’ve been away (Y/N).” you raised a brow.

“Really, like what ?”

“Like the way humans interpret things compared to us. On cybertron we form bonds through our spark. It connects us. “ He pointed to his chest.

“Physically, we don’t have a heart, so there are still a few parts that I’m trying to understand. Like pain, pleasure..” you swallowed. Was it just you or did he say that part pretty seductively.

“O-Oh, well that’s r-really cool Bee.”

Why were you getting so worked up, you were imagining things. There’s no way that Bumblebee was trying to come unto you. That was ridiculous.

“Can I ask you a question (Y/N)?”

“Yeah sure, hit me.”

“Can I touch you?” you almost choked.

“T-T-Touch me!”

His hand came down, metal fingers resting on your knee. You were so small compared to him. The thought of him touching your body didn’t scare you, more like it excited you. That’s what sort of scared you.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“N-No of course not, it’s just that I-I...well I..” you stammered, not sure how to phrase it.

“You’ve never been touched by anyone.” your cheeks burned. You weren’t sure how to deal with your embarrassment, so you just buried your face into his chest plates, nodding slowly. A deep chuckle echoed throughout the room, and hell it was definitely the sexist thing you’d ever heard.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m kind of relieved. Lately just being with you doesn't seem like enough. I can't stop thinking about you. Your eyes, hair, lips..” His tone sends you into a small stir. It's so entrancing.

“Bee..”

Where did this side of him come from?

“Yes.” you gripped at his arm. Closing your eyes.

“Y-You can.”

“I can, what?” He was obviously teasing.

“Touch me. I want you to touch me Bee..” His engine reeved slightly.

The hand that reached down and slid between your thighs had your head spinning. Your fingers were digging into the metal of his hand as you tried to remain calm. You whimpered slightly. With your already lacking clothing, you could feel everything. His fingers were cold, but the moment it touched your most sensitive area, your entire body set aflame. Bumblebee was watching, studying every little sound you made, quick breath you took. He was getting pretty heated himself. Your breathless expression was so arousing. He wanted more, needed more. His free hand groped your chest softly and you moaned out his name.

“This is incredible.” He whispers. You were shaking in pleasure with every stroke of his hand to your core. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle your moans.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep it in (Y/N), I want to hear you. Does it feel good?”

It felt amazing. If only you could put that into words. You settle for a half nod.

“I love you like this (Y/N), you’re so submissive it’s adorable.”

Another helpless whimper left your lips as you bucked.

“Bee...Bee..Bee!”

You gasped, rolling unto the floor with a thud.

Looking up, your eyes were wide.

“N-No way…” you did not just do that.

“Oh shit.”

You had a wet dream, about Bumblebee.

“I’m screwed. “

That you were.

~~~~~

Waking up the next morning was a struggle. You twisted and turned in bed, and at the end, you only managed to get two hours of sleep. The blaring alarm clock on your dresser made you groan, rolling over.

“I really hate school.” This was the worst way to start Monday morning. Standing up begrudgingly, you started your morning routine, dreading what was about to await you.

~~~~

“What’s got you so cranky.” you turned to your friend, opening your eyes a bit wider and she just started laughing. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks, what happened?”

“Had a weird dream.” There was no way you were going to tell her you had a sexual dream about your alien robot friend who you were hopelessly crushing on.

“Stop watching those crime shows before you go to sleep. I keep telling you but you never listen."

If only she knew.

With a long sigh, you gripped your bag, pulling it over your shoulder. At least school was over. You barely made it through the first period. If not for the nap you took at lunch, you would have been out the rest of the day. Walking in step with your friend, your eyes drifted to the yellow vehicle parked outside your school.

“Hey (Y/N)!”

The window rolled down, and Sam grinned at you. Mikaela was in the passenger seat, wearing a smile of her own.

“Hey guys what’s up?”

The both of you went to different high schools, so it wasn’t unusual for him to stop by every now and then.

“Bee was getting a bit impatient, so I decided to just come pick you up.” Your heart skipped. Your friend nudge your hand with a smile, in which you returned with an eye roll.

“See you later (Y/N)~” She really did remind you of your mother sometimes. You waved her off, opening the door as you slid into the seat. The door closed and Sam pulled off. The conversation was light, you added in a word every now and then just to let them know you were invested, but your mind was elsewhere. You slumped a little in the seat. Just staying awake in class was a challenge. You were exhausted.

“Can I touch you (Y/N)..”

Your eyes flew open. You couldn’t even close your eyes anymore. You folded your hands on your lap, trying to steady your breath.

“Don’t make a scene, calm down, calm down.”

“You alright back there?” Sam watched you from the rear view mirror. Mikaela turned, and you were positive she noticed the flush in your cheeks. “I...I..” you couldn’t even speak properly.

“It's a girl problem isn’t it?” Mikaela interrupted. You were confused for a second, but the look she sent you, you knew she understood what was happening somehow.

“Y-Yeah, these cramps are torture.” Sam grimaced. “Enough said. Bee, step on it.” He didn’t even question it. You smiled at Mikaela appreciatively, mouthing your thanks.

The ride went by faster, and when you stepped out of the car, Mikaela followed. “I’m gonna help (Y/N) Sam.” He nodded. “Do what you gotta do.” You could tell he just didn’t want the details. It was funny how childish he was when it came to that stuff. She kissed him goodbye.

“B-Bye Bee.” you mumbled.

“Later.” you didn’t need to be a genius to know he was disappointed. He was obviously looking forward to spending the evening with you. All that was running through your mind, there was no chance that would happen. You could barely survive a car ride, you weren’t sure you could sit through a conversation with him without those images flashing in your head. Opening your front door, you headed straight for your room, Mikaela behind you trailing silently. Inside your room felt like your own little safe space, and the moment you dropped your bag, she was watching you with a smirk.

“Okay spill, tell me everything.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, you were blushing in the car, and I’m one hundred percent sure it wasn’t because of Sam. “

So she did realize. You were honestly praying she would assume you were crushing on Sam.

“Would you believe me if I said he’s kind of cute?”

She looked unimpressed. “Nice try, now spill. “

You fell backwards on the bed covering your face.

Mikaela’s face lit up. “Oh my goodness you have a thing for Bumblebee!”

“Shhh not so loudly!” you almost fell off the bed for the second time that day.

“You have to tell him, I can tell him if you want.”

“No! No one’s saying anything especially after that dream I had.”

Shit.

“Oh..my goodness.” Mikaela mouthed. You groaned.

“You had a dirty dream about him!!”

“AHHH!! Would you keep your voice down woman!!”

There was a whole lot of talking after that. The biggest reason behind your fear of anyone finding out was more because you thought they would judge you. Bumblebee was a robot, yet to you he just felt so human like that you barely paid mind to the rough exterior. He didn’t even have a beating heart, but he held the power to make yours go into overdrive with just a look. You were hopelessly in love with him.

How would you hide that?

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zemarune · 3 years

Text

I originally posted this on my Wattpad account but I've decided to also be active on here! If you see any misspellings then please do tell me. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy it~!

~ •°《｡･:*˚:✧｡ ☆ ｡✧:˚*:･｡》 °• ~

•°☆°• Bennett Fluff Alphabet •°☆°•

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

The fact that you love him even though he often brings misfortune wherever he goes, makes him fall head over heels for you everytime again.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your/his body?)

Your hands, he loves it when you caress his head, back or literally any other body part of his with your soft hands. It feels like true home. He doesn't really like any part of his body, Bennett is rather insecure about himself, his misfortune doesn't help with that. Please be patient with him and assure him that he's precious.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He loves to be held by you. While sleeping he'd definitely enjoy being the little spoon. You holding him close to you will make him melt when he wakes up. Other than that he also love to snuggle his head into your neck while you wrap your arms around each other.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Him being the unlucky boy he is, he would rather have a date with you where it's most likely very safe. He doesn't want to intentionally bring any trouble to you. A picnic in the wild, for example, could easily attract some monsters nearby. He'll most likely would like to have a date with you in his or your own home. What can possibly happen there? He thought.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Open. He's a very open person to you. If he's sad, then he'll seek for comfort within your arms. Where's the point in hiding if you're gonna find out anyways?

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He sure would want one with you, though due to the fact that he's quite young, it'll take a while.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving?)

He would give you the world if he could. He loves giving you gifts, whether if it's homemade food or something else he made himself, he'll proudly present it to you. Even though it may doesn't look the best. Tell him you're proud of him and he'll be the happiest person in Teyvat.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

There's no second he wouldn't try to hold hands with you, even if it could get a bit embarrassing in his opinion. But he'd even try to hold your hands during a battle. He loves to intertwine your fingers too! A sucker for your affection.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Of course he'd be worried sick and would blame himself and his bad luck, even if he wasn't the cause at all. Definitely would try to patch you up but he'd bring you to a decent healer just to be extra sure and not to worsen things.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with you or prank you?)

He will joke around with you, you're technically partners in crime. Bennett would prank you but only in small and harmless amounts. His pranks towards you are more the kind of cute ones.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

You often initiate the kisses. He's still a bit shy about all that romantic stuff, so give him some time. You giving him some pecks on his forehead and or cheeks will make him flustered and he'll be at loss of words.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

By many ways actually. Little presents, affection and of course saying it to you, often even with a cute little stutter!

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

When you admitted your feelings for him as well. He never thought you would ever love him back, he's so clumsy, how can someone as great as you return his feelings? He thought they're unrequited, so you can imagine his happiness.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

You leaving him because of his misfortune. He's a little insecure about it and you leaving him because of it will tear his world along with his heart apart.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Definitely his bad luck. Even though he dislikes it, it's a very cute trait to him, that not everyone has to this extend. And let's be honest, bad luck isn't always that bad!

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He suffered less and less from his bad luck since he's with you, so a nickname he'll give you will be his lucky charm. But he'll also call you his precious sunshine, because that's what you are to him. You lighten his day and mood every time he sees you.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Alone at home during nighttime. He likes to be with you alone during a calm moment in his or your home at night. He can watch you without worrying about monsters or any other people that could ruin the quiet moment. He can admire you without any interruptions while he's in your arms all cuddled up to you.

R = Romance (how romantic are they? Clichè or rather creative?)

Considering the fact that he's quite timid and has bad luck, he's rather creative and romantic in his own ways. He'd try to put those little sticks with his signature thumbs up in a heart shaped food he made you. Probably his Teyvat charred eggs.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

There's no secret you don't know, he'll tell you even the most embarrassing ones. He fears that if he kept things for himself, it would only cause trouble between you two, so he is very open about secrets to you.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Quite some time. He was, and still is, shy considering those matters, he had to built up the courage first. You almost even decided to confess first, if he wouldn't anytime soon!

U = Upset (how do they act when you're upset?)

He'll get even more insecure. Was it something he said or did? Or perhaps it's because of his bad luck? He'll try to talk with you to understand why you're upset. If it really was something he did, then he'll be dejected but tries his best to never do it again for you. Nonetheless, if it's because of someone else, he'll confront that person, no matter if it's a knight or any other high person, no matter how frightening they look, he'll stand up for you. You're his everything after all.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He's proud that you're his. He can't help but feel glad that you love him too. Showing you off happens rather unconsciously. Like, he would talk to his friends about how great you are and how kind, but not to make them envy him or anything, he simply does it because he's happy.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Worried. Everytime you fight he is feeling proud and worried at the same time. He would definitely fight for and with you, trying to protect you with everything he got.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

At the beginning he's a bit dense, one could say, but after some time he'll learn your body language and will be able to read you like an open book.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

He's young, it'll take him some time to build up enough courage to actually ask for your hand in marriage, he was super shy when asking you out, so this is gonna be a huge challenge for him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

As said before, he loves getting affection from you. Cuddling with you will make him calm down and relax. Yet alone you being beside him calms him down greatly, he feels much more confident and at ease knowing there's someone who loves him even though he has such a bad luck.

~ •°《｡･:*˚:✧｡ ☆ ｡✧:˚*:･｡》 °• ~

#fluff #fluff alphabet #genshin impact #bennett #genshin bennett #genshin x reader #bennett x reader #alphabet #he is so precious #protect him at all costs

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Note

Omg i know u said ink drinker ivar started to show y/n who he really is more when he fell for her, but like, i wanna get to know this man! Who is he? Can u tell us more about his personality and values? Like what r his vibes? Ahh i’m so obsessed w him

Oh, who is Ivar?

Well, he's a jack-ass, he's a smooth talker, he's a nerd, he's a sarcastic shit, he's a protector, all rolled into one. He likes his hoodies and his leather jackets, his combat boots, his mustang, and not admitting to the fact he needs to wear his glasses more often than he should.

Honestly, I don't even know where to begin, he lives rent-free in my mind. There's no end to how he rolls through my brain, and if this doesn't answer your questions I apologize. There's just so much.

I think first and foremost, Ivar is loyal. He's the most loyal person you'll ever meet. Or, he can be the meanest. It's all going to depend on how he's treated. He's pretty relaxed when it comes to just existing in the room with him. He'll keep to himself, draw, play on his phone, play video games. He's comfortable with his own company. That tends to happen when you close yourself off. You have to learn to rely on yourself, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying your own solitude.

Now, his values. Ivar is a family guy. With limits. He's a mama's boy through and through, there's no denying that. He'd walk through hell to see his mom smile. To make her proud. He loves her more than anything, and after watching what she went through from his father, God, Ivar can't believe just how strong some people can be. That's another thing he loves about you: your strength. When his parents finally split, when he and Hvitserk were just finishing high school, he really learned the core value of family. And that, family, is whoever you want it to be. Like, everyone always says "you only get one family!" Well yeah, and you only get one appendix, and when it fucks with you, you cut it out of your life. Ivar values strong relationships. His mother, Floki, Hvitserk, you. A few close friends from past tattoo conventions, people who do his craft as well as he does. Ivar also values children; he values treating children with respect, he knows what he went through as a child. He would never wish that on an innocent kid. I say it time and time again, Ivar is great with kids. Kids want to be loved, they want to be accepted and encouraged, and safe. Ivar will give them that. And hell, not even his own kids. His nephews, Floki's boys, friends of his with little ones. Cousins, relatives, yours or his. Those kids flock to Ivar because his energy is just so...pure. You swear he makes a friend with a child everywhere he goes.

He values the freedom to express himself. He's an artist, he'll draw until his fingers bleed and fall off. And then he'll draw some more. He values an environment that's not overly stressful. He still doesn't get how you and Hvitserk manage some of the shit you both have to deal with. He values acceptance. And that should be no surprise. (Looking directly at you Ragnar.) He values the ability to be alone, to be left alone, without being questioned. Sometimes, he just wants to go into his studio and exist. And that's fine. He'll come back, and he really loves that you let him be. You tell him that dinner's on the stove if he's hungry, you'll be reading if he needs you. He sometimes just needs to let his brain chill. To listen to some music and create art.

As far as his personality... Ivar is a geek. He'll geek out about math, about superheroes, about Star Wars, Marvel, DC, and True Crime. About sports. About the latest and greatest in the world of tattoos. He's silly when he wants to be, he makes you laugh harder than anyone you've ever met. He's witty and sarcastic and God, sometimes you just want to smack him. Sometimes you want to put that mouth to better use.

This brings me to my next point. Your pleasure is Ivar's pleasure. He gets off on making you cum, on making you feel incredible. He gets off on watching your head tip back, on how your body moves, and how it's for him to worship. The filth that can pour from his mouth, about what he wants to do with you--sometimes you swear he only thinks with a different head than the one on his shoulders.

He's a protector. If someone fucks with you, he's there to see it through. And maybe to remind you that murder is wrong. If someone is giving Hvitserk shit, Ivar will kick ass and take names. Anyone so dares to look sideways at you, at his mother, oh Lord. Get life insurance.

He gets too far into his own head more often than he doesn't. He's his own worst enemy and worst critic. He holds himself to an impossibly high standard, so much that he'll never reach it. He's a perfectionist. He's a neat freak, and you can't believe he's the youngest of five boys. He'll clean up after himself, everything in his apartment has a place. It's borderline obsessive, but neatness makes him content. Probably because his brain is so messy.

He's not a perfect person, no one is. He gets stuck in his ways, he can be defensive. He can be moody, and he can be confused when you tell him to talk through what he's thinking. That concept is so foreign for him because he doesn't want to scare you with his thoughts. Because sometimes, they scare him. When he offers help, to you or anyone, and it's not immediately accepted, he gets angry. There are subtle underlying anger issues when it comes to certain scenarios. He has a history of unstable past relationships, with Ragnar, and women he's gone after. He fears abandonment and can get clingy. And then when he sees himself doing that, he'll become withdrawn, he doesn't want to annoy you. He walked on eggshells for a while, before he really opened up about a lot of this, because he didn't want to lose you. You'd never leave Ivar for expressing himself. For simply communicating. That was new to him too. Emotions, feelings, they were bottled up and he was taught to keep them that way. He doesn't want to be alone in his life. He wants to love and be loved for who he is.

I apologize if this didn't answer your questions or help at all. I'm always down to answer more "specific" questions or blabber about HCs if that helps. 😅

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 5,687

Chapter Warnings: swearing, implied s.uicidal ideation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur visits L’Manhole, has his first encounter with the blood vines, and finally sees Tommy again.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Four: head in the dust

L’Manberg really is just a crater in the ground, now.

He knew, of course. Ghostbur saw it in the aftermath, in the aftermath of the TNT and the withers and Techno and Phil standing shoulder to shoulder with Dream, an unholy alliance that no one else stood a chance against.

(is he angry at them, for allying with Dream? he’s done the same thing, and business is business no matter the devil you’re dealing with, as long as you don’t mind your soul being blackened)

(for Tommy’s sake, there is anger. for anyone else’s, well. he doesn’t think he has a right to be indignant on their behalf, not about this, not unless he wants to add being the worst type of hypocrite to his stack of crimes)

But Ghostbur was focused on Friend, then, and not so much the ruin of everything else. It hits differently, to see it now, to see a crater in the ground filled with rubble and broken buildings, the remains of something that used to be more, that used to stand for something, that aspired to a symbol that it could never truly embody.

(not when it was built on a flawed foundation, traitors and child soldiers and a flight path too close to the sun)

Overhead, thunder rumbles. Distant, but there are clouds gathering.

The melody comes to his mind unbidden, lilting and soft. He hums a few bars experimentally. And then a few more, staring out over the wreckage, eyes tracing over the remains of structures that are both familiar and not. So little of his L’Manberg was left by the time Phil and Techno destroyed it, and it is odd to recognize what it turned into, Ghostbur’s memories at odds with the knowledge that he wasn’t here to see it, was very much dead and at peace.

He keeps humming. There is a

(symphony)

song, the song, begging to be played, and he wishes he had his guitar. He’s not sure where it is. He can’t remember whether Ghostbur had it, whether it was left to be destroyed along with everything else. Or whether it was abandoned in Pogtopia, and there it still lies, gathering dust in an empty ravine with the remnants of the potato farms and the training rooms and the corridors they hollowed out and called their own.

The words won’t come to his lips. He knows them intimately, like he knows his own name or perhaps even better, but he holds back.

Lightning forks through the sky. For a second, all the world is black and white, his vision painted with stark shadows. The clouds are darkening; the skies will open up any moment now. He feels a burst of fear, a burst of get inside, get inside now, you’ll melt, and then remembers that he is not Ghostbur, and that a little bit of rain won’t hurt him at all.

It is time to move on, though. Lingering here will gain him nothing.

He looks out over what is left of L’Manberg one last time. And then turns on his heel and continues walking down the Prime Path, his coat flaring out behind him.

It feels so odd to be here, to be walking this road so openly. He hasn’t seen anyone yet, and he probably has the oncoming storm to thank for it. And he is thankful; he’s not sure how he would react if he ran into anyone, or how they would react to running into him. There are old friends here alongside old enemies, as well as people that he hasn’t even met, not really, not properly, not as himself. Time’s marched on without him, and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what to make of the changes that have happened in his absence.

He does know that he doesn’t particularly want to see anyone. Anyone other than Tommy, that is. So he’s glad that no one seems to be out and about.

He’s lost in his own thoughts. So he doesn’t notice the vines until he trips right over one, barely catching himself before he falls. He frowns, his humming dying in his throat at he stares at the obstacle.

This is definitely new. Did Ghostbur know anything about it? He can’t remember whether or not he did, which is hardly a good indicator of anything. Either way, now that he’s seen one, he sees a lot more, dotting the landscape all around him—and they were down in the crater too, weren’t they? Thick vines, blood red in color, creeping across the ground and over buildings. They fill him with a sense of uneasiness; the way they grow reminds him of kudzu, covering things and choking the life from them, parasitic and nigh on impossible to get rid of.

He crouches by the one he tripped over, examining it. It’s so large that a person would need an ax to make a dent in it, and frankly, he’s surprised that no one has by now. At least in the case of this one, which is definitely a hazard to anyone trying to use the Prime Path.

He reaches out and pokes it, not sure what he’s expecting, and then his mind fills with

(a warmth, glowing and red and sickly and creeping and wrong wrong wrong)

(a warmth, glowing and red and comforting and familiar and right right right)

(s t a t i c and it h u r t s)

He jerks his hand away, trying to shout, but the sound that escapes him is more of a whine. His momentum carries him backward, and he scrambles back a bit for good measure, his eyes fixed on the vine, half-expecting it to rise up and attack him or something of the like. It does not, but it takes a moment before he feels steady enough to stand, and even then, fine tremors run through his limbs, his body breaking out in a cold sweat.

What the hell was that?

He looks around, forgetting about his earlier trepidation, hoping that there is someone nearby to ask about it. But there is no one.

“Schlatt?” he calls, hating the shake in his voice. But there is no flash of blue, and no smug asshole stepping into view, so he assumes that the ghost isn’t nearby at the moment.

He lets out a breath. Runs a hand through his hair. And he keeps walking, not sure what else to do. He still doesn’t have any weapons, couldn’t do anything about that—that thing, even if he tried. So he keeps walking, giving it a wide berth, and tries to calm himself down, tries to focus on seeing Tommy. Nothing is more important than that. Not the wreckage that was once his city, not the strange and slightly terrifying red vines, not the corner of his mind that is whispering for him to get out while he still can, to leave before he’s well and truly trapped here, stuck in a new lease on life that he never wanted.

(rest rest rest if you want to rest again there’s no one to stop you yet but this is your last chance)

None of that matters.

Tommy’s house comes into sight a few minutes later, and he smiles to see it. In the end, it’s not much more than a hole dug into a hill, but it’s Tommy’s, and that’s always been what matters. He ducks inside, surveying the chests that line one wall, the doorway that leads to the room with the jukebox, a set of stairs leading downward. There’s not much in the way of decoration, but Tommy has never been one for it.

Tommy’s not here, though. The bed looks slept-in, and no dust gathers on the chests, so he’s been here recently, which is a relief. He probably won’t have to go hiking across the entire server looking for him. But he’s not here, and Wilbur’s not sure what to do while he’s not. Should he wait in his home? Maybe. But then, he doesn’t want to startle him too badly, and no one likes returning to their house and finding an unexpected guest, no matter who that guest might be.

He purses his lips, glancing around again. And this time, something tucked in the corner catches his eye. Its shape is familiar, and his heart leaps and stutters, but—no. It can’t be.

(he doesn’t remember whether Ghostbur had it or not but that shouldn’t mean that Tommy does, shouldn’t mean that Tommy managed to hold onto it all this time, between war and exile and war again, because that would be impossible, and even if it weren’t why would he want to keep it for so long why would it matter so much to him)

But it is.

He lifts his guitar with hands that have begun to shake once again. Plucks a string. It’s out of tune, but that can be fixed. It’s a miracle that it’s here in the first place.

He lets out a breath, thin and wavering. He looks around, at this home that is Tommy’s, not his. It wouldn’t feel right to wait here, not when he doesn’t have permission, not when Tommy’s not aware of him at all. So he steps outside, and takes a deep breath; the air is humid and electric, the anticipation of the rain permeating it already. The clouds have grown darker in the minutes he spent inside Tommy’s home.

He takes his guitar and heads for the bench.

It’s Tommy and Tubbo’s bench, really. But with this instrument in his hands and rain about to fall, nostalgia is is tapping out a three-four waltz in his chest. He sits gingerly, setting his guitar across his lap, his fingers already flying across the strings and frets, testing chords, turning the tuning pegs. It takes a few minutes before he’s satisfied with the sound, and by then, a drizzle has begun to fall.

Briefly, he considers going back inside, or mining a few blocks and building an awning of sorts over the bench. But there’s no point in it, really; he enchanted this guitar to last a long time ago, and a bit of water won’t do a thing to it. And what can the rain possibly do to him now?

(he gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes, and the water means imprisonment and freedom all at once, and something settles inside him, something that pulses with the pattern of the raindrops)

Thunder rolls. But the rain doesn’t seem to be getting any worse than this light shower, so he strums a few chords experimentally. His fingers remember them better than he expected, because he’s not sure when he last sat down and played, truly played. Before Pogtopia, at least, and with that thought, he picks out a familiar melody.

(i heard there was a)

He stops. Stares out into space. The view really is nice from here, vines notwithstanding, though he’s sure it would look better in the light of the sun. Still, there is something about the rain that soothes him, fills in a few of the shattered cracks of his soul. He feels odd, distant, and he doesn’t think it will last, but he’ll take his moments of peace when he can find them, now.

He plays a different song. Something simple, something peppy. And then something else. He doesn’t dip into his own songs, doesn’t feel quite ready to do that

(though there is a song, a symphony, waiting just beyond his hearing, and if he lets them his fingers will fly)

yet, so he dips into the repertoire of songs that he knows, that he’s learned over the years, nights spent around campfires and in forests and under trees and beneath the stars and by the crackling fireplace of the house he once called home, his brothers lounging nearby and calling his playing shit, his father laughing and chiding them and watching him with a gleam of pride in his eyes, his wings tucked behind him and at rest. All of them, at rest.

He doesn’t sing. But he hums along. Quietly, at first, and then with more confidence. The sound of the rain fills his brain until it’s just about all he can hear, the rain and his guitar and his humming, and it’s as if the rest of the world has fallen away for a little while, leaving only him and this bench and the water that is slowly soaking his clothes and plastering his hair to his forehead, and this rain isn’t at all like the rain from last night, really. That rain was cold and biting and it hurt, really, especially in those first few moments when his skin felt so raw, so new. This rain is gentle. Like a caress, almost.

He barely notices what he’s playing. Until he settles on a song, and he is struck by the memory of playing it for Tommy when they were kids, trying to help him fall asleep. It always worked like a charm. Phil used to joke that it was a magic spell, or Tommy’s off sequence, a hack into his code. And then Tommy would scowl and call him a bitch, and Phil would laugh, and Techno would roll his eyes and claim he wanted to leave, but he never did, not really.

(until he did, that is, until he left for Hypixel and the only thing any of them knew of him for a long while afterward was what they could glean from his short messages and the newspapers announcing his wins)

He tilts his head up for a moment. His eyes are watering, but it’s the rain falling on his face. That’s all. He keeps playing, playing and humming, and

(Tommy is drifting off, his eyes sliding shut before he gets through the song, and he lets the chord fade away and his nah nah nah trails into silence, and he smiles and ruffles his little brother’s hair and whispers good night)

Tommy says, “What the hell?”

(take a sad song and make it better)

He hits a wrong note, his fingers spasming, and he flinches. He is suddenly very aware of himself, of the way his coat has begun sticking to him, of the water dripping down his face. The rain is coming down a bit harder now, hard enough that he perhaps should have made that awning after all. He swallows, his gaze fixed on his guitar, on the way the water evaporates when it makes contact with it, the enchantments still holding strong even after all this time.

The rain stops being a comfort. It’s just rain, now, and he feels so terribly present in this moment.

He shifts on the bench, and turns so that he can look behind him.

And it’s—

Tommy. And Tubbo, too, standing next to him. They’ve got an umbrella held between them. They’re staring at him, Tubbo in shock and Tommy—Tommy in—he doesn’t know, can’t tell

(shock yes but what else he doesn’t know is there excitement does he dare hope for happiness please let it not be horror please not anger even though he deserves it he does he knows he does)

what he’s feeling beyond the obvious surprise, and perhaps a bit of disbelief.

His fingers finally still on the strings.

“Hello, Tommy,” he says.

It’s pithy, in the face of everything. It’s weak. It’s too little, too late. It’s all he can think to say.

“What the hell,” Tubbo is saying, an echo of Tommy’s exclamation, “what the hell?” But Wilbur really only has eyes for Tommy, who is standing there, unmoving, unblinking, and worryingly mute. Tommy is never so silent. In the face of a challenge, in the face of something undesirable, in the face of anything unexpected, Tommy’s first instinct has always been to be loud, to shout and yell and puff himself up like a bird playing at being predator. And yet here he is, quiet. Just staring. Eyes wide.

Slowly, Wilbur puts his guitar to the side, and stands. No more words come to his mind. Getting to his feet seems to take all of his energy, all of his willpower, and then he’s glued to the spot. Frozen, his heart in his throat, beating out that traitorous rhythm. Tommy is still just staring, and he wishes he would do something, anything, would rail at him or curse or step forward or run the other direction, because anything would be better than this stalemate, this thick tension that rests between the two of them. Maybe then, Wilbur would be able to find the courage to bridge the gap.

(unless the gap doesn’t want to be bridged and Tommy’s changed his mind after all, has decided that he doesn’t want the return of the man who made him a soldier and then a fugitive, who stole the remainder of his childhood away and replaced it with shadows and paranoia and enemies at every turn and the worst one of all right in front of him, who was supposed to be his brother but turned into a monster and who could blame him, really, if he decided that, if he decided that his life would be better off without such a one in it)

“Tommy—” he starts, not knowing what will come next, and his voice cracks. His voice breaks, terribly, like the word doesn’t belong in his mouth anymore, like he doesn’t have a right to say the name like he used to, and perhaps he doesn’t, after everything he’s done, and then—

“Wilbur,” Tommy whispers, barely audible over the rain.

“It’s me,” he says. It’s a confirmation and it’s a promise and it’s an apology. He wonders if Tommy can hear it.

And then, Tommy is running, is charging straight at him, and Wilbur doesn’t have time to react before Tommy is barreling into him, taking them both to the ground, and all the breath exits his lungs with a soft whumph. And then, there is a fist in his face, and he sees stars, pain erupting in his nose, and he grunts. His vision clears after a moment, and Tommy’s face fills his line of sight, red and splotchy and twisted up. He’s all but sitting on his chest, making it difficult to get that air back. His fist is still raised, still poised to strike again. Wilbur’s surprised that it hasn’t.

“You bastard,” Tommy says. “You bastard, what the actual hell is this, Wilbur you bastard, you can’t just—how are you even here? What are you—how are you—”

Wilbur reaches up and touches his face.

It’s an instinct, really, to touch Tommy when he gets worked up. He’s a bit like a cat, in that way; he’ll pretend until the cows come home that he doesn’t like physical comfort, that he’s too much of a big manly man to do anything more than slap someone on the shoulder, maybe, much less hug them, but as soon as contact is made, all of that flies out the window. If it’s timed right, that is, and Wilbur has had years to become a study in Tommy. So he reaches out and holds his hand against Tommy’s face, and half of it is to calm him down and half of it is for Wilbur to reassure himself that his brother is here, that he’s fine and that he’s real, because he didn’t think that it would be an issue but now that he’s here, looking at Tommy in the flesh, he can’t get the image of Tommy-in-exile out of his mind, worn down and ragged and eyes entirely devoid of life, at the end of his rope even if Ghostbur couldn’t see that, couldn’t understand the pain he was in.

(you should have been there for him should have been there to protect him to keep him safe but you weren’t and whose fault is that and now look at him he’s grown up without you when he shouldn’t have had to grow up at all)

Tommy goes completely still.

“Tommy,” he says. “I am so fucking sorry.”

It’s like a dam has burst within him, and everything he’s been holding back floods him. He looks at his brother, his brother who is still a child and yet looks at him with eyes that have seen more war and death than any child should, and he is struck with the knowledge that he is the one who did this, that he is the one who planted the seeds, that Tommy went to war with him, for him, and he repaid him by isolating him and hurting him and pitting him and Techno against each other and insisting that there was no one he could trust. And perhaps he’s no Dream, but what difference does that make, in the end, when Dream would never have been able to get his hands on Tommy in the first place if it weren’t for him, for his stupid, selfish actions, for his weakness and his inability to see reality for what it was?

He broke, and Tommy paid the price for it. And now here they are.

His vision blurs. It could be the rain. It could be.

“I am so sorry,” he repeats, and it’s a struggle to get the words out, because his throat feels so thick, like it’s closing in on itself. “So sorry for everything, for—god, Tommy, for all of it, I never should’ve—”

“You’re here,” Tommy says, and Wilbur falls silent as the air is once again driven out of his lungs, this time by the full weight of his brother collapsing on his chest and clutching at his shirt, burying his face in the fabric. “You’re here, you fucking—you’re here.”

“I’m here,” he agrees, and he brings one hand up to rest on Tommy’s back and starts carding the other one through his hair, a motion that Tommy usually protests, but now doesn’t say a word against.

“You bastard,” Tommy mumbles. “You’re such a bitch, you—you left me, you promised you wouldn’t and then you left me, what kind of shit move was that, huh? You absolute—you complete—you stupid bitch!”

“Gremlin child,” he murmurs, and it comes out so soft and so fond and more than a little bit choked up, “I know, I know, I’m so sorry.”

“You’d better be,” Tommy says. “Fuck, Wilbur, I’m so glad you’re back.”

And that gives him pause, just for a second, a moment in which he has no idea how to respond to that, because he isn’t. Not in the broadest sense. How can he be, when the thought of the void still lingers in the back of his mind like a siren’s call, when he’s been ripped away from that peace and shoved into a body that feels everything too sharply, too keenly?

He’s not glad for that.

(he’d escape, if he could, he thinks, but he can’t afford to think on it too long, can’t afford to let that longing settle into his skin, especially not now and not here)

But Tommy can’t know that. He decides it right then and there: Tommy can’t know that. He’s been through so much already; he shouldn’t have to deal with Wilbur’s shit on top of all of it. Shouldn’t have to know that he doesn’t want to be here at all. That he meant it when he told him he didn’t want to be brought back. That he still means it. That he’s not here by choice, no matter how good it is to see his brother again.

Tommy can’t know that. Tommy can’t know that, because it would hurt him, and Wilbur knows that he is not a good person, that he hasn’t been for a long time, but he’ll be damned before he hurts his little brother again.

So, Tommy can’t know.

It’s easier than it should be, to pull together a quick facade. A bit of a mask, a bit of a farce, a bit of a lie, just enough to give the impression that he’s less damaged than he knows he is. He can be broken in private. Tommy shouldn’t have to deal with that. Shouldn’t have to see it.

(he dragged Tommy down with him once)

(never again)

“Me too,” he says,

(and it’s a lie, a lie, a lie, twisted and poisonous on his tongue, tasting of ash and gunpowder)

and smiles.

Tommy pulls away from him, enough to look him in the eyes. His face is blotchy, but Wilbur doesn’t comment on it.

“You’re not upset?” he demands.

“Why would I be upset?” he asks.

“I mean, earlier,” Tommy says. “You do remember that, right? When we talked? And you said you didn’t—you didn’t want to come back? I thought you’d be upset about it.”

“I remember,” he says. “It’s alright. I’m just glad to see you.”

(the question: how many half-truths can he tell?)

(the answer: as many as it takes, and never mind the fallout)

“Yeah?” Tommy says.

“Yeah,” Wilbur replies.

“Well then,” Tommy says, and then, he suddenly seems to realize the position that they’re in, Wilbur sprawled on the wet grass and Tommy half-lying, half-sitting on top of him. Tommy clears his throat, and his next motion is to awkwardly climb off of him, dusting off his pants and looking away awkwardly as if to pretend that none of that just happened. It’s typical, really; Tommy’s always been allergic to overt displays of affection. That much, at least, hasn’t changed.

He sighs, sitting up himself. And then finally remembers that Tubbo is here, too. Has been the whole time, standing there uncomfortably, white-knuckling his grip on the umbrella. He makes eye contact, and there, in Tubbo’s eyes, is the wariness that he was expecting to find in Tommy, that he was surprised not to see.

“Hello, Tubbo,” he says quietly.

“Hi, Wilbur,” Tubbo says. A bit short, a bit cold; not hostile, but not precisely welcoming, either.

“I owe you an apology as well,” he says. “A lot of them, really. I’m sorry for what I did.”

The expression that passes across Tubbo’s face is unmistakably one of surprise. Is it the apology itself? Or was he not expecting Wilbur to apologize to him, specifically?

“You’ll understand if I can’t quite forgive you,” Tubbo says, and Wilbur nods.

(Schlatt grinning on the stage and he knows, he knows that Techno will be unable to withstand this kind of pressure, knows that what Schlatt demands, he will be given, and there is a boy in a box shaking and begging, a boy that Wilbur has known since he followed Tommy home one day, all those years ago, a boy in a box, a sacrificial lamb, and Wilbur turns aside and doesn’t waver at the sound of his scream)

“Of course,” he says, and stands himself. The rain is letting up a bit, and he casts a glance back at his guitar, still sitting on the bench.

“Have you just been sat out here in the rain?” Tommy asks. “Why didn’t you just wait inside? How long have you been here, anyway?”

“Here? I don’t know. It hasn’t been too long,” he says absently. He picks up his guitar again, though he makes no move to play it, holding it loosely at his side. “I thought the rain felt nice.”

“You thought the rain felt nice—”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Wilbur,” Tubbo interrupts, “but how exactly are you back?”

And that—that draws him up short.

Because for the question to be asked like that implies that Tubbo doesn’t know, which means that whatever Tommy did, or got Dream to do, Tubbo wasn’t told. Which makes no sense; Tommy tells Tubbo everything. That’s just the way of the world. And when he looks to Tommy, Tommy is watching him with a curious expression, like he’s interested in the answer too, and that doesn’t make any sense, because Tommy had to have at least known that something had happened, because if he didn’t, that means—

(how many strings does the puppeteer have?)

“I thought,” he starts, and he can’t keep the dread from his voice, “I thought that I should be asking you that question. Since you said that Dream could resurrect me. I thought you got him to do something.”

There is silence for a very long time.

“I’ve been to visit a couple of times,” Tommy says quietly. “The prison, I mean. I hadn’t asked him about it yet. I’ve—I’ve been thinking about what you said a lot. And I wanted you back, so I was probably going to bring it up at some point, but I wanted to be—I wanted to try to be smart about it. I didn’t want the bastard to get one over me. And uh, that thing you said about Schlatt, I didn’t want that to happen, either. So uh, I haven’t actually spoken to Dream about it.”

“Wait, but that doesn’t make any sense,” Tubbo says. “Dream’s got a book, yeah? That Schlatt had? That’s how he knows how to do it, right? But he doesn’t have that in prison, so how could he have done anything?”

He tries not to let his reaction show on his face. But his eyes dart around, seeking out blue, trying to see if Schlatt is around to hear this. He doesn’t see anything, though that doesn’t necessarily say much.

Should he mention Schlatt? Or would that just make things worse?

“I woke up in a forest,” he says. “That’s literally all I know. I woke up in a forest, and it was fucking cold, and I was fucking alive. Beyond that, I’ve got nothing.” He pauses, gauging Tommy’s reaction, and decides to save Schlatt for another time. As well as the fact that he spent the night at Techno’s. All of that can wait until Tommy looks a little less—fragile isn’t quite the right word to use, or at least, it shouldn’t be, because Tommy has been many things but fragile has never been one of them. But there is a brittleness about him, and Wilbur can’t help but be afraid that if he says the wrong thing, if he steps wrongly, Tommy might snap. Might break into little pieces. Or might not, might fracture on the inside and pretend that nothing is wrong, might pull away and refuse to let anyone help him because he thinks he doesn’t need it, or worse, that he doesn’t deserve it—

“We’re going to have to go speak to him, aren’t we,” Tommy states, and yes, yes they are, Wilbur would love nothing more than to see the green bastard face to face and put his fist right through his teeth and wring out an explanation for himself, but—

Tommy’s eyes are hooded. He’s trying to hide it, trying not to let it show. But he’s tense. Like he’s expecting a blow.

(he rages, boils from the inside out, but he can do nothing because there is no one here to fight. no one here to blame. Dream is not here. Schlatt is not here)

(there is no one but himself)

“Yes,” Wilbur says, “but I don’t see why we’d need to right now. We can wait a bit.”

He doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want to wait at all. He wants to march down to the prison right now and demand his answers. But the poorly concealed relief on Tommy’s face makes it worth it.

(there is something in him screaming that it doesn’t matter, that this is more important, that Tommy can be a bit uncomfortable if it gets him what he wants, that there is a bigger picture to worry about and they are all ants caught up in a flood, but no, no, no, he sacrificed Tommy to this voice once and he won’t do it again he won’t he’s going to be better)

“Yeah, let’s make that bitch sweat for a while,” Tommy says, all bluster, but it’s comforting in its familiarity. “I bet he’s just waiting on us to come and ask him about it. Bitch has got another thing coming.” He grins, sharp and wild, and Wilbur almost takes a step back, because how long has it been since that expression was directed at him?

(the scene: the results are in and they’ve got a majority, and Tommy is whooping and hollering and Wilbur hates himself for giving him false hope, because he’s got the results in his hand and they should have won but he’s about to have to crush that infectious joy of his, and there’s really no way to do it gently, so he waits just one more second, one more second for his brother to be happy, and then he speaks and the smile slides off Tommy’s face like chalk washed away in the rain)

Too long.

So when he speaks, his voice is entirely too soft.

“I feel like I’ve missed a lot,” he says, and it’s an obvious non-sequitur but he doesn’t care. “Would you like to catch me up?”

And Tommy grins and grins and grins, and he knows he’s made the right choice when Tommy slings an arm around his shoulder and starts talking his ear off, and Tubbo rolls his eyes but follows along with them, and it feels so good and so right and he’s missed this, he has. If life were made of only moments like these, perhaps he would be able to be happy to be here.

For now, being happy in the moment will have to be enough.

“So I’ve got to ask, you don’t feel particularly like blowing anything up at the moment, do you?”

“Tubbo, that’s so fucking rude—”

It stings, the reminder, but it’s deserved. So he smiles, and he answers, and above them, the rain stops.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #alivebur #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #with this tumblr is officially caught up to my ao3 #there should be a brand new chapter tomorrow if all goes well

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joheun-saram · 4 years

Text

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 03

Chapter 3 - Coincidences

previous| masterlist | next

Summary- Do their dates ever go according to plan? Well, who knew watching George Clooney was such an aphrodisiac.

word count- 6.2k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- unwanted sexual advances (don’t worry, it’s not namjoon and it’s not overly discussed), alcohol consumption, oral sex (f. receiving), hickeys, dry humping, sex

a.n- okay so I wrote my first smut scene. AAAAH. I’m sorry if it’s not the best - I tried and realized I don’t know how to get into a guys headspace during sex lmfao 🙃 Namjoon is also a high-key cheeseball and God of Destruction strikes. I’m sorry but I had to - his face when he breaks things makes me simultaneously laugh and uwu.

Also, in case you missed it I have a lot of feelings about Batman having a credit card. Batman and Robin is an absurd movie but I still love it.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut, @rjsmochii, @jinjccns

You were greeted by Siwon and a coffee as you walked to the elevator of your office building yawning furiously, uncharacteristically dressed in a navy pantsuit with a white turtleneck in anticipation of your big meeting today. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You were meeting one of the big tech companies’ senior VP and your deal hinged on his approval. You were not looking forward to it - he was a certified creep.

“Alright so your meetings in about four hours, we can finish the proposal in about two and then we can prep for the next two.” Siwon was in full assistant mode, rattling off details to add to the proposal that unbeknownst to him you had already finished last night.

“Proposal’s done so let’s skip to the prep,” you say as you step out of the elevator to your floor.

“Did you stay late? Yah Y/N! You know you can’t overwork like that! Also, this building is so creepy at night. Don’t tell me you stayed here alone.” He scolded you, effortlessly switching from employee to friend. You loved that he cared so much about you.

“I’m sorry, but if it makes you feel better - I wasn’t alone.” As you make your way to your desk you notice the kitchen filled with pink pastry boxes. “What’s all that?” you questioned as you forego your desk making a beeline for the kitchen, having skipped breakfast that morning for a much needed hour of sleep.

“What do you mean you weren’t alone?” Siwon was looking at you suspiciously with his eyebrow quirked. When you reached the boxes you noticed that they were filled with all sorts of breakfast goodies, from croissants to danishes to doughnuts. Your mouth watered as you grabbed a buttery croissant, anticipating the taste before it even made it on your plate.

“Y/N! Someone sent them over this morning with this note.” Timothy, your head of curriculum, handed you a pink envelope that matched the boxes. Placing your breakfast on the table you opened the note, hoping it wasn’t a client because that meant you would have to send something to them and would get caught in one of those one-upping gifting circlejerks. Arguably the worst part of corporate life.

Good luck on your meeting today. I’m rooting for you!

-N

PS: this is also your reminder to drink water - stay hydrated! ;)

Your mouth flew open as you reread the note, a grin slowly spreading on your face. As Siwon read over your shoulder, he gasped loudly. Luckily no one else was within earshot or else they would notice you not so gently elbow your assistant and call HR.

“Oh my god… Is this from who I think it’s from?” He sputtered, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Was he the one keeping you company last night?”

“What? NO!” You giggled nervously as he playfully smacked your arm. “Maybe…” you whispered, shrugging, giving in to his charms.

“Is this why you are wearing a turtleneck? Did he rock your world? Did he bangtan that sonyeondan?”

“Shut up please!” You hissed at Siwon. You really wished you had a closed office now as you walked to your desk and grabbed your laptop, going into one of the meeting rooms that hopefully no one else booked that morning.

“So spill.” Siwon said as he settled into the chair next to you on the long stained oak table.

“There’s nothing to spill. We worked together and had pizza. And before you ask, no we did not have sex. It was our first date!” You huffed as you started your laptop.

“What did you do to him?” He asked in awe.

“Excuse me?” You were getting irritated now. To insinuate that you did something to him was pretty callous of Siwon. It reminded you of the times in university when your best friend dropped you because her crush told her that he liked you instead of her. You had no intentions of liking that guy, he was honestly not your type, too lazy and self-entitled to ever catch your attention, but she did not hesitate in cutting all ties and insisting you moved out of your shared apartment. According to her, you seduced him with your looks and personality. Pfft. As if life were so easy that you could manipulate whoever you liked into liking you back. However, Siwon was unaware of this incident so you decided to calm your annoyance a little.

“Sorry. I mean he’s sending the whole office breakfast after a first date. He must really like you.” He caught on to your tone and corrected himself. He was good at catching your tonal nuances by now, and you were grateful.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get annoyed.” You sighed, smiling forcefully, as you pulled up the proposal you worked on earlier that morning. “I really like him too.” You admitted. It kind of felt nice to share that with someone. Usually you would pick up your phone the moment you felt a date go right and tell Jiyoung right away, but knowing what a huge fan she was you wanted to feel out the situation more before she got too excited.

While relaying the events of last night to a very excited Siwon, you texted Namjoon.

Y/N: Wow. Breakfast for the whole office? Big moves.

Namjoon: Well I am trying to woo the CEO. Gotta bring in the big guns!

Y/N: And you think you can woo me with baked goods?

Namjoon: That depends…

Namjoon: Is it working?

Y/N: Yes. Yes it is...

Y/N: Thank you btw. This was really sweet!

Namjoon: Then everything is going according to plan :)

Y/N: I’m excited for tonight

Namjoon: Me too! I miss you!

Y/N: Joon you saw me like eight hours ago!

Namjoon: Eight hours too long!

Y/N: Omg! Stop! You’re so cheesy...

Namjoon: Never!

You walked into the conference room with Harry and Siwon twenty minutes before noon and the three of you started setting up, nerves on high alert. You wrung your hands as you rearranged the printouts on the table for the sixth time, before Harry pulled you into a hug.

“You got this bub! We’re gonna kill it and then celebrate and blow all the money from this deal.” You laughed as your nerves melted. This was the reason he was your best friend and partner in crime. You got out of the embrace, infinitely more calm as you settled in your seat at the end of the table.

Soon, your client, Mr Li, arrived with two other people from his team. The presentation went smoothly if you were to ignore the fact that every time you glanced at Li his eyes seemed to be fixated on your chest. His team, however, was much less sleazy. After you finished presenting, you and Harry spent about an hour answering their questions and concerns before negotiating another lucrative contract for your company. With this deal done, you will be able to meet your company’s quarterly goals.

As soon as the meeting ended, Li’s team, now joined by their legal team, that arrived a few minutes before the end, was escorted to your legal floor to sort out the details of the contract.

“So this is a cause for celebration!” Li booms loudly as he shakes Harry’s hand, before pulling you into an unwanted hug. The hug was extremely tight as you felt your chest being squished by his, knocking the air out of you. You awkwardly try to escape, confused by his less than professional behaviour, eyes widened and staring at Harry. “We should all get some drinks in a few weeks to truly seal the deal.”

“Yes, we will definitely set up something with our assistants. I’m not sure if Y/N will be able to join because of her hectic schedule, but I will definitely be there.” Harry swiftly stepped in to shake Li’s hand one more time, subtly but clearly giving you an out. You were immensely relieved till you heard Li’s next words.

“It’s no party without the CEO. I bet she’s a real firecracker with a few drinks in her!” He laughed full-bellied, elbowing an uncomfortably stunned Harry as you gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Of course. We’ll set something up soon, Mr Li. Now if you excuse me I have another meeting to attend. We’re very excited to work with you!” You forced a fake smile as you exited the cringe-inducing situation. You grabbed some water when you reached your desk, drinking it to get the nasty taste of the situation out of your head. Sometimes you truly hated having to plaster a smile to appease clients, but unfortunately it was part of the job.

Your mood lightened significantly as your phone buzzed, instantly forgetting about the creepy old man. You picked up to hear Namjoon’s baritone voice greeting you as you ducked into a small meeting room, locking the door and settling on the comfy couch at the end.

“How did it go?” He seemed a bit out of breath.

“Nailed it! Although the guy was a certified creep.”

“Oh I’m sorry for that. What happened?” Genuine concern laced his tone.

“He just didn’t have any concerns for personal space” you sighed but your heart warmed at his worry for you. “Why are you out of breath?”

“That sucks! I just got done with dance practice.” He quickly picked up on your hesitance to go into further detail. “I haven’t danced this intensely in a while!”

“Oh! I would love to see you dance!” You giggled.

“Trust me I’m not good. It is not worth it.”

“I don’t believe you. I guess I’ll have to see it to judge for myself.”

“Hmm… maybe. Fair warning, there are literal twitter pages dedicated to my terrible moves.”

“Well then those people are assholes. I bet they’re jealous because you are an amazing dancer.”

_________________________________

Namjoon hung up the call and stared at the call log on his phone, displaying that he had been on the phone with you for over thirty five minutes. It felt like it had been barely two. He didn’t know why talking to you improved his mood this much, but just hearing your voice was enough to make him forget the stress from messing up the choreography almost every run though this morning, and especially Hoseok’s disappointing face as he tried and failed to correct his moves.

Getting back to the big mirrored room, he decided to go through the steps again alone to really nail down the routine, his head full of your plans later this evening. Initially, he had planned a romantic dinner to a high end restaurant in Gangnam but after his manager’s email this morning that he might be being followed, you both had decided on a quiet evening at your apartment. You had insisted it would be safer this way since the suspected stalker would not know where he was going, but he still felt a little uncomfortable about possibly putting your home in danger. He remembered when Yoongi had a stalker three years ago and they all had to pretty much be holed together in the dorms to ensure their safety. Luckily, they were smarter now with a much larger budget for security so these incidents barely encroached on their everyday activities. Still, this was the first time he was seeing someone while dealing with this and that made him wary.

After practicing for another couple of hours, Namjoon headed back home before getting ready for the evening. The closer the clock ticked towards 7, the more nervous he seemed to get. He had butterflies in his stomach as he styled his hair for the fifth time. Giving up, he grabbed the small bouquet of sunflowers he had prepared for the evening and headed towards the car waiting to pick him up downstairs.

As much as he had talked to you over the last few days, the pressure of this being a real date made him want to make a good impression. He was disappointed that he couldn’t wow you with a gourmet meal and even though he was confident that you enjoyed his company, the fact that you would basically be forced to stay with him if you wanted to leave tonight made him uneasy.

Fidgeting with the collar of his black t-shirt, he braced himself as he knocked on your door. You took his breath away when you opened the door, dressed in a beautiful red sundress that hugged all your curves perfectly. You smiled widely at him as you greeted him. Your pink dusted cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled as you saw him, made all his earlier worries disappear. His heart sang as you excitedly took the bouquet, sniffing the flowers before busying yourself and looking for a jar to place them in. He was glad he went through the effort of buying them. Well, the effort of bribing one of the staff with lunch for them.

“How did you know these are my favourite flowers?” You sounded shocked.

“I saw them everywhere at the gala, so I figured even if they weren’t your favourites you at least liked them.” He smiled widely, internally celebrating going for those over Jin’s suggestion of the typical roses. He watched as you carefully snapped the stems of the flowers and placed them in the jar a little too small to contain all the flowers. He couldn’t help but think how stunning you looked biting your lip concentrating while arranging the flowers, taking care not to break off any leaves.

Your apartment reflected your personality it seemed. The kitchen was attached to the large living room, separated by a large island that you were working on. The living room had a large comfortable yellow couch with a few fuzzy blankets and white pillows, facing a television on the wall surrounded by framed posters of music festivals, which he gathered from the dates were ones you attended. He also noticed a vintage looking record player next to the opposite wall with a shelf full of books and records, arranged in seemingly no order; the books differing in lengths with random records popped between them. Everything was extremely clean but he could make out some clutter like a pair of keys attached to an Apeach keychain next to the window, and a pair of sunglasses that were precariously hanging off the edge of a small table in the corner. He felt that he was looking inside your brain a little, and it made him extremely grateful that you had deemed him worthy enough to invite him over. He didn’t know if that was something you were comfortable enough doing with everyone you met or dated, or if inviting him to your apartment was an anomaly, and he’d be lying if he didn’t hope it was the latter. The thought that he was getting special treatment made him giddy.

After arranging your flowers, you made your way to Namjoon, and he felt your arms around his waist as you wrapped him a hug.

“Thank you” you whispered into his chest and even this small gesture made him blush.

“I just wanted to cheer you up after that shitty meeting.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He could feel you smile into his chest, something that was confirmed when you separated after a few seconds and made your way to the couch. He missed your warmth already.

“Honestly, just talking to you after it cheered me up.” He sat next to you on the couch as you poured two glasses of white wine, handing him one. “I know we just talked but how was the rest of your day?”

You both shared news about the rest of your days with each other while waiting for dinner to arrive. The conversation was easy and fluid, easily shifting from mundane everyday events to anecdotes about your friends while you ate your pastas and finished the bottle of wine. He appreciated that unlike other people he had dated you didn’t seem surprised that he had friends outside the band and that most of his stories revolved around them rather than BTS. He always felt that so much of his friendship with the guys was broadcasted that he’d be retelling something that people had already watched so to the disappointment of a lot of his dates, he shared more about his other friends. Like how last year he went on a trip to Paris with childhood friends and got kicked out of the Louvre because they accidentally almost knocked down an exhibit. Or when one of his friends got so unbelievably drunk he had to bribe him with actual money to ensure he didn’t sleep in the park. He enjoyed hearing your university tales too, laughing out loud when you recounted the time you had drunkenly won a debate with one of your friends on which Batman was the best, resulting in the said friend to streak around the neighbourhood.

“Wait so you’re telling me if you lost, you would have to streak instead?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you. He had not expected you to have this wild side. He was intrigued, if not slightly turned on by the idea that this side might show up later.

“I would. I never break a promise.” You looked smug as you smiled over your wine glass. “But if I’m being honest, I knew I would win. Who thinks Clooney is the best Batman? He had a bat credit card for crying out loud!” He smiled as you ranted about how Batman would even apply for a credit card and the unlikelihood of him having a social security number without giving away his identity. Sure, Namjoon had never seen this particular Batman movie, or any to be fair, but the way you passionately discussed the superhero was so endearing to him that he couldn’t help nodding along enthusiastically at each point you made, giggling as he did so.

“Okay. I have not seen that movie, but that sounds hilarious.” He commented as he finished the last of the wine in his glass.

“What? It is a cinematic meme masterpiece! We have to watch it!”

_________________________________

That’s how you ended up watching Batman and Robin, a second bottle of wine open on the coffee table. You hadn’t imagined that’s how you’ll be spending the next few hours with Namjoon. In fact, you did not want to impose your nerdy views on him at all, but tipsy you had other ideas. He seemed to be enjoying the movie too, laughing justly at the bat nipples and stupid ice puns. However with each corny flirt Poison Ivy threw at one of the many men on screen, you couldn’t help but notice how closely you were sitting next to a man hotter than any on your television. He had his arm around your shoulders and your head rested slightly on his chest, engulfed in his woodsy scent. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, resisting the urge to reach up and kiss his jaw where it rested on his hand.

You had wanted to kiss him the moment he walked in the door with flowers in hand. No date had ever brought you flowers before and it set your heart aflutter. If he was any more perfect, you’d be worried you had imagined him and that you’d wake up from a very long, very surreal dream. The next time you glanced up at him you found him looking at you, a soft smile on his face, his dimples looking extra cute as he looked into your eyes.

Feeling uncharacteristically bashful, you smiled back at him, willing yourself not to avert his gaze. “Hi,” you muttered.

“Hi” His deep voice reverberated through your body and before you could tell your heart to stop thudding at your chest, Namjoon closed the space between you. His lips were slightly chapped as he brushed them against yours gently - unrushed and soft. He took his time, his lips dancing around yours as if in a practiced waltz, as he moved his hand to your cheek, thumb stroking your cheekbones. Before you could deepen the kiss, you separated, much to your disappointment and he went back to watching the movie.

“Oh look! It’s the credit card scene.” He said nonchalantly as if he had not just taken your breath away.

“Joon! This movie is stupid,” you whined as you reached for his face, but before you could reach it he grabbed your wrist.

“But it’s a cinematic meme masterpiece!” He teased you with your earlier comment, his eyes lit with mirth.

You pouted in defiance. “You can’t just kiss me like this and expect me to go back to watching the movie.”

“Aww! Cute!” He cooed as you huff, but before you could protest further, he kissed you again. Unlike the first time, this kiss was fierce, sparking a need in you. His lips pressed firmly against yours as his arm moved from around you to maneuver you on top of his lap. He did not hold back as he kissed you with a yearning you felt pulsate through you. He coaxed his way into your mouth as you didn't hesitate for a second, your hands running through the hair at the nape of his neck.

His hands were on your hips and as he pulled you closer you couldn’t help but roll your hips on him, feeling him hardening under you, a moan escaping from your mouth into his. Your dress was almost pulled to your waist and the rough material of his jeans felt delicious against your lace panties. You couldn’t help but roll your hips again, wanting him much closer than he already was.

“Baby you can’t do that to me.” He whined, his voice heavy with desire, as he started placing kisses down your face to your neck.

“Why not?” Your eyes spoke of challenge as you once again grind on him, a light moan escaping your lips, teasingly.

He stops kissing you as he looks up at you sternly, his jaw jutting out slightly. “Because I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“Fuck that. Let’s be b-”

Before you can finish your sentence, he is spinning you around to lay you on the couch, hovering above you, your legs on either side of his body. Your head is caged between his arms, your dress barely covering your panties, as he smirks at you before rocking his hip against you, eliciting a loud gasp from you.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he kisses your neck, softly biting in a way that you’re sure there will be marks tomorrow, before soothing it with his tongue.

“Yes” you whisper as you reach down to palm him over his pants, making him groan where he’s kissing behind your ear.

“Fuck… Can I take this off?” His hand is on the zipper of your dress and as soon as you nod, he is pulling it down, increasing his force when it gets caught. Suddenly he stops, his eyes wide with alarm. Leaning up slightly you follow his gaze to his hand where he holds your zipper, no longer attached to the dress. He looks like a kid that broke an expensive vase in a store and you can’t help but laugh.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” The more he apologizes, the more you laugh at the situation, tears filling up your eyes. How could he be sexily growling in your ear one moment, making you drench your panties, and be this adorably guilty looking the next? Pushing him off you stand up and coax the rest of the zip down, letting the dress pool at your feet, as you grab his hand, urging him to stand up.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” You lead him across the hall to your bedroom, and he quickly recovers from his blunder, wrapping himself behind you as he continues to kiss your neck and face.

“I’ll buy you a new dress! Sorry!” He says as you sit down at the end of your bed.

“Joonie, stop apologizing and fuck me.” You pull at his shirt, and thankfully he gets the hint, smoothly taking it off and throwing it beside you with a quick “Yes, ma'am.” You are mesmerized by his body, as you trace your hands up to his toned chest, thanking the god you didn’t believe in for this moment. Smirking at your adoration, he kisses you again, pushing you to lie down with his arm around your waist as he pushes you further up the bed till your head hits the pillows.

He continues kissing you as you run your hands over his chest and back, wanting to consume all of him. “Mmm, you’re so beautiful.” He moans as he kisses down your neck to your chest, rubbing himself on you, his fingers lingering at the waistband of your panties. He looks to you for consent and seeing your enthusiastic nod, he pulls them down, groaning at your arousal that liberally coats them.

“Baby, you’re so wet.” He whispers, amazed as if you had any other choice considering his earlier teasing. He kisses your lips again as his fingers slide against your lips teasingly, making you rut your hips against his hand in an effort to feel him inside.

“Joonie, please. Stop teasing” You whine against his lips, and thankfully he does, pushing one finger inside, making you cry out as you tip your head back against the pillows. Taking advantage of your angled head he presses his lips to your neck, leaving another hickey as one finger becomes two, deliciously stretching you and making you clench against him. Your head is cloudy with endorphins as he curls his fingers expertly thrusting in you, filling the room with your wanton moans. He kisses up to your ear, nibbling a little at your lobe.

“I want to taste you.” His voice is heavy with want and it sends a shiver up your spine. You clench around his fingers in anticipation as he kisses down your body, pulling your bra cups down to pay extra attention to your hardened nipples. His bangs brush against your skin raising goosebumps as he places multiple small pecks on your soft belly before reaching his destination.

“Look here, baby.” He says and as soon as you make eye contact, he pulls out his fingers, placing them in his mouth sucking on them with a groan, making heat rise up your neck. “You’re fucking delicious.”

Your heart is about to explode out of your chest and you can’t help but squirm but he holds your legs apart, slowly kissing each inner thigh as he takes his time. He really has a knack for teasing, and you wouldn’t complain if not for the aching between your legs. You’re desperate for him.

Finally, he lays on his stomach, his long legs dangling off the bed, as he holds your gaze, grinning, before giving you a long lick, making you shudder. He moans into you as he continues his long licks, your fingers making their way to his hair.

He focuses his attention on your clit, sucking and increasing his speed. No one has eaten you out like this. You remember after drinks with your friends claiming that it sucked that you were straight because guys always suck at eating pussy. Oh how wrong you were, you thought as Namjoon added his fingers back into the mix, thrusting as his tongue lapped at your clit, making you see stars. You could feel the familiar heat in your core as you tugged his hair, making him groan, a chant of his name on your lips as you feel yourself becoming undone. Your toes curl into the comforter below you as your legs shake screaming his name. He coaxes you though your orgasm, slowing his thrusts and licking you clean as you come down. When you could feel the overstimulation, you called his name, lightly stroking his hair. You kind of felt bad for pulling on it that tightly earlier.

He wiped his face as he came up towards you, smiling triumphantly. He kissed you and you could taste yourself on his lips.

“You did so well for me, baby.” You had never been praised for orgasming and although you had just cum you felt yourself getting wet all over again. You kissed him again, reaching to undo his jeans and struggling.

“Are you sure? We can stop here if you want.” Namjoon says against your lips.

“Shut up and get naked, Joon” you huff against his lips as he chuckles, flipping on his back next to you to undo his pants and pulling them off along with his boxers. You bite your lip as you see his cock emerge, bouncing against his stomach, his head dripping precum. Your mouth waters as you undo your bra, tossing it to the side, before reaching for his generous length. He hisses as your thumb runs over the tip, and you use the precum to stroke him slowly.

Suddenly, he grabs your wrist, stopping your exploration. “I’m going to cum if you don’t stop.”

You peck his lips as he lets go, turning around and reaching out for the condoms in your bedside drawer. Ripping the packet open, you pinch the tip, smirking as you place it in your mouth, enjoying the way his eyes widen in surprise as you stroke him twice before using your lips to encase his length in latex.

“Holy fuck. You’re perfect.” He grabs your face as soon as you’re done and kisses you fiercely as he once again lays you under him. His length rubs against your clit, sending jolts of pleasures up your spine as you rut your hips upwards. Getting the hint, he grabs his cock and lines it to your entrance. Your insides flutter as you feel him run his tip between your folds collecting your arousal, making you mewl a weak “please”. His face is flushed and his eyes are dark as he guides himself in smoothly, both of you moaning at the pleasure. The stretch is unbelievable, and you close your eyes as the sensation.

He waits a beat for you to accommodate him and as soon as you nod, he pulls back to thrust in again. Slowly he builds up to a rhythm that has you both panting. The room is full of the sounds of your bodies colliding and heavy breaths. You open your eyes to see him with his tongue between his lips and his jaw clenched. The same look of concentration he had when he was writing his songs in your office last night, and you felt yourself clench around him in pleasure. He moaned lowly and it was like you could feel his voice travel through you.

“Oh my god, Joon!” you cried as he changed his angle, hitting your g-spot directly, and increased his speed, thrusting harder.

“I got you, baby. I got you.” He reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers, pressing his forehead against yours, pressing kisses against your cheeks. You could feel yourself getting close again as he continued his pace, and by the way his grip on your hand tightened you could tell he was getting there too. You wrapped your legs around him as he started to get sloppier, getting lost in chasing pleasure.

“Cum for me baby, please.” He pleaded as his fingers reached between you to tease your clit, shooting waves of pleasure through you. He sucked on your neck and the sensation was too much. You feel yourself tighten around him and he groans as the tension building in your stomach snaps, making you cum hard around him, his name on your tongue as your fingers dig into his back.

He fucks you through your orgasm, hard and fast, before cumming himself with a loud groan and collapsing on you. Your bodies panting in unison as you both try to catch your breath. You’re both still holding hands, as he sweetly kisses your cheek, before pulling himself off of you, discarding the condom in the trash can, and laying back next to you. After you both calm down, he speaks staring at the ceiling.

“Do you have cameras in here?”

“What?” You are confused as you turn to look at him.

“Wouldn’t wanna make a sex tape on our second date.” He laughs, turning on his side and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Oh my god. I hate you.” You playfully swat at his chest.

“Nah, you like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose as you roll your eyes. “But it’s okay because I really like you too.”

“You are so cheesy!” you groan, but your face flushes at his words, your heart dancing in your chest. “I’m going to pee.”

“No, stay.” He whines pulling you close to his chest. You oblige him for all of two minutes, before grabbing his shirt from the end of the bed, putting it on, grabbing a fresh pair of panties, and making your way to the ensuite.

When you return you find him still on your bed, albeit in his boxers now, lying amongst your many pillows with his hands behind his head. Hearing your footsteps, he turns to you and smiles, reaching his hand out to pull you in with him. Cuddling you into his chest, he pulls the comforter over the two of you.

“You’re staying?” You hadn’t expected him to stay and you felt your heart warm at the way he did not rush to leave after sex. You knew he wasn’t the kind of person to just be in it for the sex, but it was your second date so you had kept your expectations low.

“Do you not want me to?” He asks with a pout, stiffening, and you could hear how fast his heart was beating.

“Please stay.” You snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms around him, as you felt him relax and kiss the top of your head. “Want to see something cool?”

He hummed as you asked your google home to show you the sky. It was a dumb impulse purchase you made after a week of late nights of work at home and you hadn’t had the opportunity to show it off yet. You watched his mouth open in awe as the connected device turned off all the lights in your room and projected the milky way on to your ceiling. You chuckled at his child-like reaction. After talking to him this much, you were kind of sure that this would be how he’d act. You were pretty similar and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had the same reaction when you first saw the constellations on your ceiling. He was quiet for a while, taking in the view and the only way you knew he was awake was by the way his hand softly caressed your hair.

“Hey Y/N. Do you ever think how crazy it is that we met?” His voice was almost a whisper as he turned on his side to look at you. Turning to face him, you placed your hand on his cheek as he continued. “Like you would have to make a company at the perfect time, get your contract with Samsung, decide to move to Korea, convince my boss to sign with you, and then throw that gala, and at the same time I would have to decide to be a rapper, sign to this company, make it big at the right time, come across your non-profit at the right time, and successfully convince Bang PD to let us go to your event. Isn’t that crazy how all those little decisions led to this?”

You were stunned. You had never thought about it that way. How everyone you met was by such a coincidence, how you met Joon was such a coincidence. The way he phrased it made it seem like fate. Maybe it was.

“You forgot about the part where I almost didn’t let you come to the gala.” You joked. You knew he was being serious, but your internal defense mechanisms were in full gear. You didn’t know why you were making light of his beautiful statement, but you felt if you didn’t, you’d fall for him even further and you weren't ready for that.

“What do you mean?” He chuckled, his hand rubbing circles into your waist.

“Your team asked me four hours before the gala that you were coming.” He snorted at your response. “You’re lucky Jiyoung is a fan.”

“Well, then I’ll send a thank you card to her.” He gazed at you adoringly as he pulled you closer. “You know I wasn’t joking earlier… I really like you.”

“I really like you too, Joon.” you whispered as he captured your lips into a kiss. You both continued discussing the coincidences that had to align for you to meet, stealing kisses as you drift off to sleep.

Wrapped up in his arms, with the twinkling stars on your ceiling, it was the best sleep you had had in a long while.

____________________

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#bts fic #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts rm scenario #bts scenarios #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #bts rm #bts namjoon #rm x reader #rm smut

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butgilinsky · 4 years

Text

angels & demons // rc

warning; angst, language, drugs, alcohol, alludes to violence but not graphic, basically everything that comes with rafe cameron, a toxic relationship

summary; y/n knows that rafe has demons, but for some reason she can’t pull herself away from him

word count; 1.8k+

i’m in no way trying to romanticize things that rafe does in the show, and i sure as hell don’t condone any of it. i’m not trying to romanticize toxic relationships or anything that comes w them, i just LOVE this song and it gives me rafe vibes soo.. idk i recommend listening to this song, it’s v good and this fic kind of reminds me of my dark writing style. if you’ve read my unfinished series rivals, it gives me those vibes a little.

based on angels & demons by jxdn

Two face, two face, yeah Black white, left right, yeah Up down, all night, yeah

the second they entered the house, rafe was ripped away from y/n. she rolled her eyes at the empty feeling in her hand, knowing that it would’ve happened sooner or later, despite the string of promises she received on the way to the house.

“baby, i’ll be by your side, i promise.”

the promise was empty, but most of the promises that rafe offered were. she’d fallen accustomed to the lies and the broken promises, barely batting an eye anymore.

so she linked her arm around her friend’s neck and smiled at the happy expression she received. the girl locked her arms around y/n and swayed from side to side, rambling about how she didn’t think she’d see y/n at all tonight.

the next time she saw rafe he was high, though that didn’t surprise her either. his arm wrapped around her abdomen, a soft kiss pressed to the back of her head before she leaned back and offered her lips to him.

“you smell like beer.” she commented softly, hearing him hum before disregarding the statement all together.

“i’ve had a lot.” he shrugged softly, the alcohol barely a factor in his behavior due to his tolerance. with the help of his height and his build, rafe had built a tolerance over the years. excessive drinking in high school had helped with that.

she turned back to her conversation, smiling drunkenly at the girl that had been talking to her for the past half hour before rafe tugged on her waist subtly. the girl that was talking wasn’t picking up on rafe’s sudden urge to leave, but y/n was painfully aware of it all.

“let’s go.” his lips pressed to the back of her ear, gripping her hip tighter when she didn’t respond right away.

she smiled at the girl again and told her she had to go since it was getting late, before turning and looking up at rafe who wore a dazed smile. she nudged him softly, hand falling in his before he pulled her through the crowd and out of the house.

Can't escape it ever Don't forget my name I don't feel the same On a trip, no train

rafe’s head fell backwards, his eyes screwed shut as he sighed out into the air above him. the breeze was cold against his searing skin, and his nose began to itch. it had only been a few lines, but it was enough to drown out the voice in his head, numbing the thoughts but not the ache in his chest.

his eyes locked on his girlfriend, just a few yards away from him talking to a boy he’d forgotten the name of due to the lack of interest in it. her eyes found rafe’s quickly, and it only took a clenched jaw from rafe to dismiss herself from the conversation.

she sent the boy a polite smile before stalking over to rafe, his hand reaching out for her when she was close enough. he pulled her into his lap easily, ignoring the fact that she definitely did not want to sit at the coke covered table.

her head fell on top of his, her cheek smushing to the side slightly while she let her mind drift off elsewhere. rafe was talking to somebody across the table but she wasn’t paying attention, absentmindedly bringing her cup to her lips to drown out the sounds.

“you alright?” she asked rafe after he’d gone quiet after a while, and he nodded shortly. “you look kind of out of it.”

“need another line.” he said simply, tapping the side of her thigh quickly.

she sighed but shuffled out of rafe’s lap at the silent command. she stayed close by, knowing she’d be sought out for if she wandered off, and it would ultimately cause more problems than not.

And all these angels and demons Keep shouting and screaming I'm falling from Eden

she knocked on the door quickly, bouncing on her feet impatiently while waiting for the door to swing open. when it finally did, topper threw his thumb over his shoulder and she slid through the doorway.

she jogged upstairs and around every corner, hearing the shouting all the way from the front door. the sight of her boyfriend pacing around the room filled her vision. he was tugging at his hair and mumbling incoherent thoughts while kelce stared at him in defeat.

“rafe.” both pair of eyes snapped up to meet hers, finally allowing her to see the tears running down rafe’s cheeks as he crashed.

he sighed softly, sending her an exhausted look before she walked over to him. she wrapped her arms around the boy, smiling at kelce when he excused himself out of the room to give the couple space.

y/n pulled rafe to sit on the bed, letting him lean into her fully and cry into her chest. she knew how it was when he came down from a high, especially when his high was meant to cover up a shitty day.

“i can’t stop thinking.” she sighed, trying to calm the boy, despite the constant ringing in his ears.

“i’m right here, baby. you’re okay.”

So fuck me like a rockstar Dancing on a cop car Nothing in the world can stop me now

“rafe, get down, right now!” rafe scoffed loudly at his girlfriend five feet below him, waving her off when topper reached up to hand him a freshly filled cup.

“dance with me, baby.” he bent his knees, nearing her height but still hovering over her. he held out his hand but she pushed it away quickly, glaring at him in the process.

“rafe you’re going to get arrested. you can’t sit in a jail cell while you’re high, baby, get down.” he rolled his eyes and stood back up, wearing a drunken smirk while he ignored his girlfriend’s pleas.

she watched for a moment longer before turning on her heels and storming off. she wasn’t going to sit around and watch rafe dig a hole from himself, though she seemed to be doing that for years at this point.

Fucked up like a rockstar Ridin' in a cop car No one in the world can help me now

she grabbed her card back from the woman across the desk, not even bothering to smile while she signed multiple papers. her head snapped at the sound of a husky voice she’d recognize anywhere, though this time it made her growl in anger.

“baby, i’m so sorry. thank you for coming-”

“i don’t want to hear it, rafe.” she handed the papers back to the woman and waited for the man to unlock rafe’s cuffs before she walked out of the station, rafe hot on her heels.

“y/n, please, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to fuck up again baby, i swear.” she stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face the boy as her anger practically seeped out of her.

“that’s the thing, rafe. you keep fucking your life up no matter how much i try to stop you. i can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped, rafe.” he looked down at his feet, the words he’d heard her say multiple times ringing between both of his ears. “just get in the car. you’re lucky they didn’t call your dad, rafe.”

Everybody said that I'm falling Took another line I'm calling I'm so sick of the nonsense I'mma dive into the mosh pit

“can you stop lecturing me for one fucking second?” his voice was loud and harsh, and would’ve knocked anyone else down a notch. fortunately for the girl in front of him, she’d grown to figure out how to stand her ground for the time being.

“i’m not lecturing you. i’m trying to help you, rafe-”

“well you’re not fucking helping! i’m sick of the bullshit, y/n. i’m sick of trying to make everyone happy, so just let me deal with my own shit.” she stood firm in her place on the sand, watching rafe stomp off.

she ignored the burning gazes on her, turning around and walking off of the beach. if rafe didn’t want her to bother him, then she would stop bothering him. so she left the boneyard, slipped into her car and drove away.

I don't really think I'm the problem I don't really think it's a problem Me plus me is a problem One gun shot could solve 'em

her back leaned against the door, her eyes trained on the carpet below her though she was painfully aware of the sobs that filled the room. she hadn’t spoken in almost an hour, listening to his string of apologies and excuses. one minute he didn’t think anything was wrong with him, and the next he claimed his world was crashing around him.

he fell to his knees in front of her, digging his face into her stomach and gripping her hips. she sighed softly, ignoring the single tear rolling down her cheek and dropped her hand on top of his head. she scratched at his scalp gently, hearing his sobs turn to sniffles.

“i’m so sorry.” he spoke softly, almost too soft for her to hear.

“i’ve hear that too many times, rafe.” he shook his head quickly, looking up at y/n with wide eyes that glistened from the sheen of tears that covered them. the moon that seeped through his window casted a beautiful light across his face, one that reminded her how she’d ended up in this messy love story.

“i mean it, y/n. i know i went too far this time and i’m sorry.”

she wanted to laugh. too far was an understatement. he’d committed, arguably, the worst crime known to man, and he called it ‘too far’. every day of her life before this one, she would’ve sworn that anything like that would’ve driven her away from a person, no matter her ties to them.

but somehow, the boy on his knees in front of her looked up at her with a look in his eyes that she couldn’t imagine never seeing again. she couldn’t imagine never waking up next to him, or never feeling his lips pressed against hers. she couldn’t imagine a life without rafe cameron, and part of her hated that.

unfortunately, she saw how rafe tried to rationalize his actions. she saw how deeply rooted his demons were, and she saw how his mind ticked in such a way that she’d never seen a person tick before. she knew his intentions were less than pure, but they were far from malicious.

“run away with me.” he looked up at her with such desperation, the thought of a life where the two of them could forget about everything around them bringing him a joy he hadn’t felt in years. “baby, let’s run away.”

she hated that that sounded like heaven to her.

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Note

At the current events of Year 7, it feels like it's drawing near to the day of the Redacted event happened. My biggest worry since then was having to meet with Redacted's family. I would hope they would be kind enough and be thankful to MC for being their son/daughter's precious friend, yet at the same time, I always feared how they might end up damning MC for what happened to them. Speaking of which, do you have a headcanon for Carewyn if she ever met them after that dreadful night?

*exhales sadly* I have one solid headcanon about Rowan's family after they die...and sadly it will force me to spoil the ending of the good Rakepick AU (which I'm basically treating as my canon ending for Carewyn and the Vaults, at this point, since Jam City's just completely disappointed me with the end of year 6 and beyond), at least a little. But hey, considering how long that bloody thing is taking for me to finish, maybe that's my own fault. 😓

Basically, after everything that goes down in the Portrait Vault, there will be a LOT of mixed feelings about Rakepick. Honestly, even with what's already come out about her, one could have mixed feelings. Rakepick returned to R, the cult/mafia-esque organization that destroyed her life and identity, and killed Rowan so as to put enough pressure on Carewyn that she'd kill her and, in doing so, save many other lives -- but yeah, cool motive, still murder. And as Carewyn says to Rakepick in the fic,

"You saw fit to decide that Rowan’s life was a price you were willing to pay. You saw fit to decide that she didn’t count among 'the many’ that you thought to save. Both things you were in no place to decide."

And however much of a victim of R Rakepick was and however much she might try to make up for her terrible mistakes -- and in the Cursed Vaults, she does actually put herself on the line to protect Carewyn and pays a high price -- Rowan is still dead, because of her, and the Khannas still understandably want justice. So Rakepick goes to Azkaban. I'll be leaving it kind of open about whether or not this is justice -- but Rakepick will go through absolute Hell in the Wizarding prison, because she feels more guilt and shame for everything she's done than just about any other prisoner there...so the dementors bringing back all of her worst memories affect her three times worse than it might someone like Bellatrix Lestrange. Sirius was put into Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit and even when the dementors' presence got bad, he could turn into a dog to make it easier to get through, so he wasn't affected as badly...but if you commit a crime and feel guilt or remorse for it, the dementors frankly don't care. It's twisted, but it's true. If anything, since they feed on unhappy memories, they're more likely to enjoy feeding from someone who does feel legitimate remorse than from a sociopath or someone who otherwise feels no guilt about the crime they've committed. So even if I think just about everyone would agree Death Eaters like the Lestranges would deserve that suffering way more than someone like Rakepick, even if they're all criminals, Rakepick will be the one the dementors will target most. However much real-life prisons like to act like they're there to deter crime and reform criminals...just like in real life to an extent, Azkaban only blindly punishes, rather than reform, its prisoners, and even if anyone is lucky enough to escape it, they're always a shadow of their former self afterwards. Even Hagrid, who was only in Azkaban for a very short time, can't keep himself from bursting into tears, thinking about it. Even Sirius, who was framed for a crime he didn't commit, looked more like a skeleton than the handsome man he'd always been after twelve years stuck there. And it will be Rakepick's condition in Azkaban that will convince Carewyn once and for all the inherent evil of dementors being the guards of Azkaban. As she says in a fic I recently wrote featuring Carewyn and her uncle, Blaise Cromwell, during the Second Wizarding War --

“Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise – I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled. But truthfully…I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors…they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people. …I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Although the Khanna family will feel like some justice has been done, with Rakepick remaining in Azkaban for the rest of her life for what happened to Rowan, Carewyn herself will have a lot more trouble seeing the outcome as true justice. But truly, in such a situation, when someone who isn't a truly evil person and was in fact a victim in so many ways herself does terrible things in a misguided attempt to do good...what would be justice? In many stories, Rakepick would go out in a heroic sacrifice, like Darth Vader does in Star Wars, and we would never have to grapple with this moral dilemma. But with her alive...how does one move forward? How does one forgive? Is it even possible at all?

#ask me #rowan khanna #patricia rakepick #carewyn cromwell #analysis #dementors #azkaban

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years

Text

The Other You - 15

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

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Fresh from a shower, Marinette plopped on her bed face down and grunted, hiding her flaming face in a pillow.

What was wrong with her?

Why was she such an idiot and a weakling? Couldn’t she have said no to Adrien and his stupid lunch? Why on Earth did she think this was a good idea? Especially with her apparent inability to stay anywhere close to that man for more than five minutes at a time and not have her stupid crush rear its ugly head at the slightest sign of attention from his side.

Not fully her fault though because why the hell did Adrien have to be all kinds of perfect and so over the top extra? It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural. Men like him didn’t exist in the real world. It was some kind of witchcraft because how else could he have managed to make her feel so much at ease that by the end of that cursed lunch Marinette didn’t even notice as she let all remnants of her past hurt drift away? Witchcraft! Humanly impossible!

And Felix! That genius weirdo! She was going to kill him… after Fashion Week… for the crime of looking so incredibly much like Adrien. If he looked like anybody but his French cousin, Marinette would’ve never gotten used to seeing that face around herself and slowly lowered her guard around either of the men sharing the uncanny similarity. She would’ve stayed cautious around Adrien and would’ve never allowed him an opportunity to sneak back into her heart. She pursed her lips, grunting into her comforter. Was it too farfetched to assume that Adrien hired Felix specifically for that reason? Because his similar looks and flirty behaviour would slowly charm her into lowering her defences around Adrien? Preposterous but possible!

Her cell phone vibrated. Marinette grabbed it, pushing the thought away. Adrien didn’t deserve any more of her time for what he’d done to her today.

Alya: So, how did it go?

Ugh. Not Alya too. They hardly spoke about Adrien in recent weeks. Alya was avoiding the subject, probably thinking Marinette still hated him. Marinette didn’t want to bring him up because Adrien confused her. All of her assumptions, all of the beliefs she held about him were rapidly crumbling down and until Marinette got a hold of herself and her emotions, she preferred to avoid talking about him as well. The only reason Alya even knew about their lunch was because Marinette let information about the unexpected invitation slip in one of their calls. Like a true reporter, Alya couldn’t let her off the hook without learning the name of the person who invited her.

Marinette: How did what go? My day? Long and hard. Home now. About to start cooking.

Alya: Your date with Adrien, M. How did your unexpected date with your new boss/former enemy go?

Marinette scoffed. It wasn’t a date! She knew that for certain because Adrien made sure to correct their waiter when he’d voiced the same assumption about the pair’s relationship status. She couldn’t blame the waiter for assuming, though, because Adrien Freaking Agreste didn’t just pop into her office with his lunch box as she had assumed he would when he asked her that morning if she was free to talk about some business over lunch. Oh, no! He freaking dressed up and took her to an upscale cafe where he had reserved a freaking VIP lounge for them—per his words—‘to talk about work in privacy’, all while looking stupidly handsome and very smug about it. Of course, the waiter would assume it was a date. Which it wasn’t!

As for how it went?

Horribly wrong!

Disastrously so!

Cautious and wary at first, both of them slowly relaxed as the lunch went on, and soon enough not only they were laughing and joking around, but Marinette dared to say there were even a few moments where he flirted with her. Also, she was pretty sure Adrien had chosen his clothes strategically to show off that toned and lean body of his.

Marinette yelled into her pillow, banging her feet against her bed. Why couldn’t he have become bald or something? Or gain a few dozen extra pounds? Lose some teeth? Smell like a dump truck? Become a bully? Why did Adrien have to be so perfect? And why did he have to be such a gentleman and attentive and let everything she’d once loved about him shine through as he made her feel like the most beautiful and amazing woman in the room, all while they talked business and business alone? How did he manage that? How dare he still linger around her thoughts even now? And why did sharing a meal with him somehow feel so familiar and nice and warm and comforting and just wonderful despite all of her reservations and initial awkwardness?

It had to be some kind of magic. A spell, perhaps. Or a potion. Some sort of witchcraft or sorcery for sure. Hadn’t she sensed that he was a danger back at Gabriel’s office during their first encounter after so long? She should’ve stayed away. But nooo! She just had to go and naively fall for his tricks. Something Marinette wouldn’t admit to anyone. Not to Alya. Not to Adrien. Certainly not to herself. She typed furiously.

Marinette: It wasn’t a date. It was a business lunch and it was nothing special. We talked about work, specifically my collection and Fashion Week.

Alya: But, girl, you couldn’t stand even his name being mentioned a month ago. Now you’re going on a non-date lunch with him. What happened?

Marinette: He’s my boss, Alya. I can’t refuse his lunch invitation if I want my collection out for Fashion Week.

Alya: Girl, it’s Adrien. You can’t seriously think he’d do something like that. Don’t tell me you went through with this ONLY because you were afraid to lose your job?

Marinette stared at the message in hesitation. Nibbling on her lip, she closed her eyes and flipped on her back with a sigh. She could’ve said there was only fear behind her motivation, but the truth was—there was none at all. Not after Adrien’s apology. Not after she’d learned his side of the story. Not after she’d had a chance to think it over, analyze her life, and see where working at Gabriel had really led her. Not after she’d admitted, if only to herself, that maybe Adrien was right after all.

He had always been nothing but a loyal friend to her before that incident. If not for her nursing a fresh heartbreak at the time and him daring to compromise one of her biggest dreams, Marinette would’ve surely given him the benefit of the doubt. But it was horrible timing. They both were vulnerable. He had made a mistake. She had reacted in the worst way possible.

Time had passed, though. They both had learned their lesson. He apologized and had done so sincerely. And maybe it was some kind of magic, or maybe Marinette just had a weakness for him, but as Adrien was inviting her to that business lunch she couldn’t find it in her to refuse despite her initial hesitation. Perhaps she was curious to learn more about this new, more mature Adrien. He had been slipping into her thoughts more frequently these days. Maybe she wanted to see if that friendship Adrien was so eagerly hinting at rekindling was even possible. Or maybe she just wanted to have lunch with someone other than Felix and his wacky character for once. However genius her assistant was, being around him all day only made Marinette crave, even if secretly, the softer, more genuine, and definitely more stable personality of his cousin. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fear that got Marinette to agree to Adrien’s invitation.

Marinette: Well, not just because of that. We did talk about the past and he apologized for his actions, and since we’re stuck working together for the next while and he’s been helping me out with my collection, I thought maybe I could try to be a little friendlier with him.

She could see the three dots appearing and disappearing as Alya typed for a while only for a short question to appear.

Alya: Then PURELY HYPOTHETICALLY—do you think it’s possible for you two to be friends again? Sometime in the future at least?

Marinette chuckled. Adrien had mentioned he was going to see Nino for lunch in a few days and that he hoped the second time around it would go better. She wasn’t surprised at all. In a way, Marinette had expected it to happen because cutting all contact with Adrien was just as hard for Nino as it was for her. Having found out the truth now, Marinette was certain that Nino was itching to rekindle his friendship with Adrien. Under any other circumstances, Marinette might have taken that as a betrayal, but not now. Not when she knew the truth as well, and certainly not after she had gone to lunch with Adrien herself and still blushed at the memory of him kissing her hand as he dropped her off at her studio afterwards.

Marinette: Is this about Nino and Adrien trying to salvage their friendship and me being mad at Nino about that?

She hit Send and glanced at the clock. Eight already. Time to get back to the kitchen and finish cooking before Chat Noir showed up. Speaking of the devil… Chat Noir was as much at fault here as everyone else… if not more! Because while there was an unspoken agreement to hold off with a romantic relationship until better times between them, couldn’t he be more insistent or reckless when it came to Ladybug? Couldn’t he take her in his arms and proclaim his eternal love for her? Couldn’t he tell her he didn’t know how to live without her? Shower her with presents and attention? She’d probably be pissed at him for doing so, but at least she wouldn’t be so attention-starved right now to react to Adrien the way she did. Because that was all it was—a natural yearning for someone to notice her, for someone to look at her like she was their world, for someone to gently kiss her hand and open a door for her like a true gentleman that was so rare these days. She just wanted someone to love her the way she was, knowing all her faults and quirks, and not care the slightest about it.

Was that too much to ask of him?

Grunting, Marinette stomped to the kitchen, ignoring her beeping cell phone until all the remaining ingredients for their meal were out and she’d checked the stewing beef. One more beep reminded her of Alya on the line just before she started cutting the vegetables.

Alya: Maybe?

Alya: Yes. OTL

Alya: I’m sorry, M, but neither Nino nor I knew how to tell you and we do realize that Adrien hurt you and maybe we’re being bad friends here, but you know Nino. He wouldn’t sleep if he thinks he didn’t treat someone fairly and in this case, we kind of did just that. He’s dead set on making it right with Adrien. They’re having one more lunch this Saturday and he’s planning to do whatever it takes for it to go better than the last one.

Alya: Marinette? Say something cause I’m freaking out over here.

Alya: Anything?

Alya: You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?

Alya: You know I love you more than anyone else, right? I’d do anything for you.

Alya: Even break up with Nino. Do you want me to? Because, girl, I’ll do that for you and he can marry Adrien for all I care.

Alya: Ugh! Don’t tell him I said that because he might actually dump me for Adrien. The guy grew up really nice.

Alya: I shouldn’t have said that…

Alya: UGH! The man is ugly! He’s hideous! Just look at his Apollo-like looks! So nineteenth century! Old fashioned! Outdated! Nino would NEVER dump me for him, right?

Alya: Nino looks way better btw. Just so you know!

Marinette laughed. Who said she was the overdramatic one in their duo? Alya could easily give her and Chat Noir a run for their money in that department.

Marinette: Sorry, got distracted by cooking.

Marinette: Also, I wouldn’t be so sure about Nino not dumping you for Adrien. They used to be attached at the hip and now he’s feeling all guilty and sad and wants to fix everything. What if Adrien demands marriage?

Alya: Don’t even joke about that. I already invested too much in that man and I’m not giving him up to some CEO of a fashion empire. He can go jump off a cliff. I’ll fight for my man until my last breath.

Marinette: And here I thought you were ready to dump him for me.

Alya: …

Alya: True.

Alya: OTL You’re making it HARD, girl.

Marinette: When did I make it easy for you?

Alya: T_T Why am I still in this relationship?

Marinette: Because you love me more than anyone in this world apart from Nino?

Alya: Can’t blame me for that. Have you seen the man?

Marinette: LOL No blame here. You two are cute.

Alya: :thumbs-up:

Alya: Seriously, though, what do you think about the whole Adrien/Nino thing?

Marinette: I’m fine with it. I don’t think I’ll be plunging in there myself anytime soon but I don’t see why Nino shouldn’t.

Alya: Are you sure?

Marinette: Yes, I’m sure. I’m a grown-ass woman, Alya. I can be civil.

Alya: Okay. If you say so, but if you ever feel uncomfortable, let me know. We’ll figure out something.

Marinette: Will do. Have to go now. My meat is going to burn if I don’t give it my undivided attention.

Alya: See U later, girl.

Quickly firing off her farewell, Marinette got to her cooking, stirring, cutting, seasoning, and tasting. Trying to push thoughts of Adrien out of her mind because, as nice as being noticed felt, she couldn’t get any closer to him. She wasn’t a fool or a teenager anymore. Marinette knew exactly what was going on, fully realized what she was feeling.

She didn’t like it.

She spent years despising even the name of Adrien Agreste, someone who, even if unintentionally, was the cause of the biggest hurt she’d ever experienced. She spent the same amount of time being in love with Chat Noir, her loyal partner and the most important person in her life. How could she allow her old crush on Adrien surface at all, least of all so quickly after he’d reappeared in her life? It wasn’t fair.

Not to her.

Not to Chat Noir.

Especially not to Chat Noir, who had waited years for her. Marinette couldn’t fall in love with her former enemy just when a romantic relationship with Chat Noir had finally become a possibility.

She had to do something.

“Knock, knock,” Chat Noir called from the living room. “Are there any princesses in this tower? A handsome knight has come to entertain them with his awesomeness in exchange for a slice of bread.”

“In the kitchen,” Marinette shouted.

“That smells delicious,” Chat appeared behind her, peeking above her shoulder at the pot. “What are we cooking, Princess?”

Marinette couldn’t hide a smile. Princess. His old nickname for her had resurfaced recently. She missed it more than she had realized. She loved it way more than she would ever admit. “Boeuf Bourguignon.”

Chat inhaled the aroma with the most reverent expression on his face. “You’re spoiling this cat rotten.”

“I’m only paying my rent, Chat. Nice meals for a nice apartment. ‘An equal exchange’. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“I see you finally watched one of my recommendations?”

“I didn’t have time for that yet, but you’ve been quoting it so much, it was impossible for me not to remember.”

“See? I’m a good influence on you.” He grinned. “Need help?”

“Bread, if you don’t mind.”

“When have I ever?” he replied, washing his hands. “I like helping you. You make it seem so easy. I might even pick up a thing or two and not send myself to a hospital next time I try to cook by myself.”

“Maybe I should teach you then.”

“Maybe you should.”

Marinette smiled, putting the finishing touches on their dishes. “Then maybe I will.”

“I’d be forever grateful,” he practically purred, finishing slicing the bread. “How was your day? Anything fun or interesting I should be aware of?”

Marinette stilled, but composed herself a moment later. Avoid mentioning Adrien at all costs. Talk about anything but him. “Felix had a short day. He ditched me before lunch and never came back.”

“Rude. He should be punished.”

“I can’t punish him. He’s doing more work than I do, and he’s my boss’ relative, and he’s the reason you're about to eat a dish that took me almost three hours to prepare, so don’t complain. You should be thanking him instead.”

Chat let out a puff, bringing a bowl filled with bread to the dining table. “What for? Being a weirdo? He’s there to help you with your work, not make you uncomfortable. So despite all of your objections, I still maintain that if he won’t scale back on his antics, you should kick his butt to the curb.”

“Actually, he’s been getting very good at respecting my boundaries lately,” Marinette confessed as she set their meals down. “And even when he doesn’t… How to explain? The way he does all of his weird things… he’s so sincere and polite about it that it’s kind of endearing in a way.”

Chat’s eyebrows knitted into a frown. “So, you like it now?”

“More like I don’t mind it so much now.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Alright. Then, I guess it’s fine?”

Marinette smiled. “Yes. It’s fine. Weird, but fine. Now, let’s eat. Boeuf Bourguignon is most delicious when it’s still steaming.”

Chat grinned, plopped on a chair and focused his gaze on the bowl in front of him. His eyes sparkled and he grabbed his fork excitedly. “Yes, ma’am! Itadakimasu!”

Marinette chuckled, sitting down as well. “Itadakimasu,” she echoed, starting on her meal. “How was your day?”

“I had lunch with an amazing person,” Chat said, his mouth full. “An old friend of mine, but we’d lost contact for a few years, so I thought lunch would be a good place to catch up. Was very nice to see she’s just as awesome as I remember her.”

She?

Marinette’s chest tightened. Her Chaton was having lunch with a girl whom he considered to be awesome and amazing while avoiding Ladybug at the same time? Yes, avoiding. There was no other explanation for what was going on in their superhero life at that moment.

Ever since Ladybug had returned to her duties, she hadn’t seen much of Chat Noir. The few times she managed to spot him, he acted skittish and distant and eager to escape as fast as he could. To her inquiry on his absences, he answered that he was making his patrols but headed home right after because of the late hours and early mornings he had. Ladybug believed him. She had no reason not to trust Chat. She thought that he was probably still mourning for his relative, and showing it only to Ladybug because only Ladybug knew about that aspect of his life.

Now, however, Marinette wasn’t so sure anymore. Her heart clenched, breathing quickening, as thoughts of Chat’s date attacked her very core. Was he avoiding his partner because he didn’t love her anymore? Or was he avoiding her because he felt guilty for being attracted to someone else, just as she found herself moping over being attracted to Adrien?

She composed herself and asked. “Is that so? Someone with potential?”

“Potential? Potential for what?” Chat blinked at her, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth.

“Potential for a romantic relationship,” Marinette explained. “Someone you would be interested in dating?”

“Dating?” Chat frowned, letting a moment slowly drift by before he shook his head. “No. She’s just a friend. You know I love Ladybug, Marinette. Why would you ask such a question?”

She let a breath out, closing her eyes for a moment. Unnecessary panic. She hadn’t lost him yet. Though, she might need to do something about it sooner rather than later because Chat Noir had been waiting for her for an absurdly long time already. And now he suddenly started to talk about an amazing, awesome person in his life. Who could guarantee that he’d be willing to wait for her much longer instead of falling in love with whoever-she-was instead?

Marinette looked back at him, childishly enjoying his meal while telling her all about his day and this amazing friend of his. She loved him. She really did. And she was holding off on him only because her life was a mess. It wasn’t anymore, though. It had gotten so much better in these last few months. Why should she continue to hold back and risk losing him?

She shouldn’t.

Her eyes widened.

That would solve all of her problems. If she were to date Chat Noir, Marinette would receive all the attention she craved from him and wouldn’t be attracted to other men. She’d give Chat all of her love and there would be none left for someone else. Adrien wouldn’t be able to make her heart stutter just by smiling at her or make her blush with an innocent wink. Chat deserved that. Plus, after years of loyally loving her, Chat Noir had more rights than anyone else to have her love and devotion.

Marinette let a smile tug at the corner of her lips. It really was the perfect solution. She’d only have to be careful going about it, considering the way Chat was acting around Ladybug lately. Something was wrong. She could feel it. She knew her Chaton and for him to avoid Ladybug, something had to be horribly wrong.

Marinette took a sip of water, observing her partner. A moment later, it all came together, just like one of her lucky charms she hadn’t used in a while.

“Say Chat,” she started carefully as soon as he’d stopped talking. “We’re friends, right?”

He grinned. “Of course, we are.”

“And as my friend, you’d tell me if there was something bothering you or you were in trouble, wouldn’t you?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yes. Why?”

Marinette sighed. “You know how my best friend runs the Ladyblog?”

“Alya Césaire?”

“Yes. Alya. She shared a concern with me a few days ago, and I wanted to ask you about it, but it could possibly be a very private issue.”

He shrugged. “Ask away. I’m fine with you asking me anything except my identity.”

“Why have you been avoiding Ladybug?”

Chat stared at her in shock, his cat ears slowly falling down against his hair. “I… Why would you think I’m avoiding Ladybug?”

“That’s just what Alya concluded based on your reported activity and sightings. When Ladybug was absent for a little over a week, you patrolled every night. But when she returned, you’ve been scarcely seen… and last week, you didn’t patrol at all.”

He looked away, whispering. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Marinette stood up and, walking over to him, crouched by his side and laid her hand on top of his. “Chat, whatever it is, don’t you think it’ll be easier if you share it with someone? Anything is easier to carry with a friend. I should know that by now.”

His eyes filled with worry and sadness. He watched her for a full minute before whispering, “Not if that ‘something’ might cause me to lose her.”

She squeezed his hand in a reassuring gesture. “You’ll never lose her, Chat. You’ve been partners for so long. Probably went through a lot together. You’re two halves of a whole. You’ll never lose her. She loves you. She’ll understand whatever it is.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You’ll lose her faster if you keep avoiding her,” Marinette added. “Don’t you think she’s noticed? Can you even imagine what’s going through her head as she’s trying to figure out why her partner suddenly doesn’t want to see her anymore?”

His eyes wide, he stared at Marinette. “I… I didn’t think about it that way.”

“You don’t have to tell her details, but you have to talk to her and figure this out, or you risk losing her trust and that is the most difficult thing to fix… if it’s possible at all.”

He bowed his head, gripping his hair with his hands. “You don’t understand, Marinette. It’s something big. Really big! I… I wouldn’t even know how to start. I mean how do you tell your partner that the enemy you fought together for ten years was your father!”

Her eyes bulging, Marinette froze, goosebumps running down her skin.

Chat abruptly stopped speaking, staring at her in horror. “No! I—didn’t mean… That’s not what I meant. Hawkmoth—he isn’t—” Chat dropped his head back into his hands and groaned. “Please, don’t hate me. I didn’t know until a few weeks ago.”

Her heart racing, Marinette watched him in shock. His father? Hawkmoth was Chat Noir’s father?

“Your father?” she echoed as if in a trance.

“Was,” Chat whispered into his hands. “He passed away recently.”

Marinette flinched but shook the thought away. “Passed? You didn’t…”

Chat shook his head. “Stroke. I found out about him being Hawkmoth only after he’d been dead for a while.”

Marinette swallowed, unable to stop staring at him. How awful that must have been to discover. She couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel, what she’d do if her father ended up being Hawkmoth. If any of her relatives or friends were to be revealed as the villain who’d terrorized the city for years. No wonder Chat had been acting so strange around Ladybug. He must have felt terrible. Really, how could he tell Ladybug something like that?

Lost for words, Marinette did the only thing she could think of—she pulled him closer and wrapped her partner in a tight embrace, whispering in the crook of his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

His breathing hitched, Chat tensed at the contact, but when she tugged him even closer, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Marinette, clinging to her as if she were his lifeline.

“I should’ve known.” His voice trembled. “He was a horrible human being.”

“Still, that must have been awful to discover.”

Chat barely breathed. “Devastating.”

They stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes, silently taking comfort in one another. His breathing, ragged and erratic at first, normalized as Chat slowly relaxed. When his grip on her eased, Marinette hesitantly pulled away to take his face in her hands. He still held her in his arms, searching her face for something, looking for the answer to a question. An answer he dreaded receiving.

“You’re not your father,” Marinette said, looking at him. “Neither he nor his actions, define who you are.”

Chat let out a sigh of relief, his eyes closing with it. “Thank you.”

“And you need to tell Ladybug. She knows you. She will understand and help you get through this.”

His eyes still closed, Chat shook his head. “Not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be ready, Chat. I don’t think anyone can ever be ready to disclose something like that, but tell me, do you trust her? Do you trust Ladybug?”

“With my life,” he whispered.

“Then tell her. Tell her everything. Tell her about your father. Tell her you love her. Everything. If you truly trust her, you know she’ll understand and won’t judge you. She’d want you to tell her so she can help you get through this. Am I wrong?”

His gaze falling to the ground, Chat thought for a few moments before looking back at Marinette. “You’re probably right. I should tell her.”

“You should.”

“And I will.”

“Tonight.”

“Tonig—What? Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight,” Marinette nodded. “Don’t delay any longer. The longer you put this off, the harder it’ll be to do. So, just go out there and tell her.”

He blinked a few times, staring at her, then let a smile sneak onto his lips. “Okay. I will. Tonight. I’ll tell her everything.”

Marinette gave him a smile and pulled him back into a hug. Her poor Chaton. He’d been through a lot. His problems were so much bigger than hers, and she’d been too wrapped up in her own mess to notice that he’d been slowly falling apart. No more. She wouldn’t allow that. Marinette would put her partner first for once and she would give him all the love he deserved.

Tonight.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #ML #chat noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #the other you

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sucuretcannelle · 3 years

Text

Fuck alla y'all, I'm kin assigning y'alls anons and extra characters, genshin vision/weapon addition

Noodles:

Hydro bow user. Mostly cuz a bow seems easier to get a hang of and she'd probably not want to be too close to her enemies. Hydro because there's a ton of chill hydro characters and her personality doesn't seem as bold as users of the other elements. She's probably a healer as well and can make sheilds. She would always accidentally leave her bow lying around by accident though. She takes her time doing commissions and she likes to work in groups (especially if she knows she can't do it alone). Least likely to spend all her mora at once. She damn near cries every time she sees a ruin guard or almost any big geo enemy in liyue

Al:

Pyro catalyst user. He's so overdramatic for no reason. You know how fischl flips her hair/poses after she attacks? Yeah, he does something pretty similar. He's just very smug. He does the bare minimum and then goes off to relax. Pretty much, he does all his commissions super early and then does nothing for the rest of the day. He'd rather work alone but if someone wants to come with him, he wouldn't mind. They'd just have to manage to keep up cuz he's fast as f u c k. He explores dragonspine for fun (an absolute crime). Never looks bad in cutscenes.

Gabe:

Dendro sword user. Poor dude sometimes tries to negotiate with treasure hoarders. He gets hurt pretty often so you can always find him by one of the statues. He constantly looks like a mess. He prefers working in groups, and he gets really upset if he has to do a quest alone. You know how Xinyan uses her guitar to swing at people instead of her claymore sometimes? Yeah, he sometimes wacks enemies with thorned vines. Kind of a healer? Not the best though. He always forgets how much mora he has saved and ends up using all of it really fast. His hangout would be the most r e l a x i n g thing you've ever experienced

Cup:

Dendro (or hydro) polearm user. I don't know why, but you know Xiangling's charged attack? I can see him wanting to do that shit so bad. I would say he'd be a sword user, but he just wants to poke people and run. He constantly drops his polearm at the worst moments. Like he could be sneaking past a ruin hunter/guard and he would accidentally drop it and wake them up. Also he has no idea how elemental reactions work. He swears he can work alone but when he gets tired he drags someone with him. Spends all his mora on food. He acts like his polearm is the heaviest thing on earth. Also his hangout would be the most chaotic shit known to man. Oh, and he won't leave Jean alone for some reason. He just likes annoying her.

Bella:

Cryo catalyst user. Sometimes she gets mad and throws it at enemies. She makes fun of Cup for being a dendro user (cuz who tf is a dendro user?) She likes to work alone and does her daily commissions as soon as they come out. And it never ends well because she gets ambushed all the time. Don't ask if she needs help, she won't accept it. Nothing can describe her hate for dragonspine. She doesn't get a hangout, she's a bitch

Prompt:

Geo claymore user. I won't lie, he's almost exactly like Zhongli except for the fact that he's responsible with his mora. Well, most of the time that is. He does his daily commissions whenever he has time, typically last minute. He fears nothing. He's the only one that's prepared for every occasion. A random ruin hunter spawning? He's got it. A super annoying whopper flower? It's already dead. One thing he hates are the dendro slimes. Like bitch stay still. His elemental skill probably has something to do with his tail. He's also very loud when he swings his claymore. Like you'd hear random noise and you'd automatically know it's him

Writer:

Anemo sword user. She likes doing her commissions all in one go whenever she feels like doing them. She doesn't even like doing commissions unless they're an actual challenge. You can typically find her running around monstadt looking for something to fight. She never has mora and typically does work for other people so she can take their mora. She once beat a treasure hoarder to death with their own shovel.

Shrimp:

Cryo sword user. She forgets how to use her sword mid-battle and gets hurt a bunch. Sometimes she just gets annoyed with herself and tries to take down the cryo cube by herself (it doesn't end well). She also forgets that she has commissions in general so she only does them when someone reminds her to. She gets intimidated by anything taller than her. Pretends to fight the statues. She rarely has enough mora to get her through the days.

Ikea:

Anemo sword user. Somehow never runs out of mora. Doesn't like doing commissions all in one go, but either way they get done so it doesn't matter. She always forgets what she's going and why she's doing it. Which is why Mary or Mirr0r always goes with her so she doesn't straight up die for that exact reason. She doesn't mind doing lil tasks along the way. Her favorite thing has got to be opening chests, even if she doesn't get much out of them

Mary:

Pyro polearm user. Literally everything is the same, no matter how big the enemy is, she will protect Ikea with her life. Other than that, nothing is really that important to her.

Mirror:

Cryo polearm user. Doesn't do their tasks all in one go; they're just very spaced out but they somehow get it done. Probably survives on no mora somehow. Just kills everything to get it over with.

That one anon:

Electro catalyst user. Just uses a bunch of charged attacks and hopes for the best. They're just very scared of everything. #1 procrastinator. They like doing quests and challenges with other people. They sorta get sad when they have to kill something. They wonder why they got a vision in the first place

Bird:

Hydro sword user. Literally the most normal person here. Always does his commissions in the afternoon and then offers to help anyone who needs it. The thing is, it didn't take him too long to get used to his sword. He used to like, jab it at things for no reason. Also survives on no mora.

Eyes:

Anemo catalyst user. Doesn't really know what's going on half of the time, so he just doesn't use his mora. He scares away most enemies before he even gets to kill them, which makes commissions way easier. Seeing him and a ruin hunter fight has got to be the most scary thing you've ever seen. Honestly he's probably a fan favorite let's not lie—

Citypop:

Cryo sword user. He gives me Chongyun vibes, but I can't see him carrying a bigass claymore. He's pretty responsible with his mora. But sometimes he does like, no damage for some reason unless he crits. It's a whole gamble tbh. He probably had a hangout, it's not that out of this world though.

Cookie:

Electro claymore user. She will beat everyone up, and she never gets hurt somehow. She never has mora either. She screams when she's fighting something, even if she's fully capable of taking it down. Half of the time she isn't even doing her quests, just messing around. She also wants to beat the shit out of Childe

(If I didn't do yours, just know that I have no clue 😭 I'm trying my best)

#kin assignment

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delicrieux · 4 years

Text

queens, half past ten | p.p.

pairing: peter parker (as spiderman) x reader

summary: walking home alone at night is terrifying with your phone being dead, but, heh, spiderman is on patrol and you’re really craving starbucks.

warnings: nothing! fluff and pinning only xx

words: 2.2k

author’s note: this is part of my social media au BE MY VALENTINE! but it can also be read as a standalone fic!!

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕. previous. next.

heading home from a concert under normal circumstances would be an adventure-esque movie/music clip where you’d listen to music and stare longingly out the window and into the shadow shrouded streets, faraway blinking lights from either cars or buildings. you’d imagine what it would be like to be a lead singer, or a drummer, or better yet the guitarist, and what all of that would entail. how you’d perform and smile and scream the lyrics along with adoring fans, how you’d get free drinks (when you’re legal), and how you’d have many bowie-esque backstage shenanigans.

alas, your phone is dead and you are stuck in confining silence, with nothing but the occasional whine of a passing car making you jump. the night is cold; smoke leaves your lips with each breath and you are eerily aware how loud your breathing is. the streets are bare —work night, no one really hangs around this late — and you feel like the only person in the world, but in a bad way. normally you’d call mj or jess and chat away about your experience at the concert, smile so hard your cheeks would hurt. now you hurry down the streets, itching to get home as soon as possible. not safe. pepper spray is grasped inside your pocket, but knowing you, if an attack (god forbid!) would happen, you’d probably spray yourself in the face and be doomed for. how did you forget to charge your phone? your friends must be worried sick. your mom would probably be too, if it wasn’t for the fact that you told her your at mj’s and she thinks you’re eating snacks and gossiping at the moment. instead you’re walking home alone with no means of communication. oh my god, no one would even be able to find you if you disappeared.

scaring yourself to death won’t help, nor make the walk shorter, or so you concluded. alas, you can’t help being on edge. if you saw a person now you’d probably burst into tears.

worst fears come true. the night had been amazing but it seems that everything is going downhill when you pass a pub. some loiter next to the door and smoke, their eyes trailing you as you walk past. bad bad bad. not everyone is evil, but you never know! being a girl is hard enough without the crushing fear of going home alone. you quickly disappear around a corner, sharp turn, you’re really working up a sweat by walking so quickly. the worst has passed, you think, sighing.

then someone has the fucking nerve to whistle at you. you thought this only happens in movies, but no, reality is just as cruel. you keep your head down and pick up the pace, but before much else—

“hey!” you jump and snap your head to a nearby lamppost, eyes wide in horror, heart hammering in your chest, but relax once you see it’s just spiderman. he gives an awkward wave, sitting quite comfortably on the lamp, legs swinging, as if he’s bored. staring as him, you uncertainly wave back, “sorry, i didn't mean to scare you.” he says, his voice deep and strange and somehow familiar. “i just uhh— heard those guys whistle at you and figured you’d appreciate the company. not safe in this part of town.”

you really don’t know what to say as he makes his way down to stand beside you. you hadn’t prepared to meet a superhero tonight, and certainly not one you had been actively stalking on social media for a better part of the year. oh my god. he’s really next to you, isn’t he? had he noticed you liking all of his posts? dear god, you hope not. suddenly rooted in spot, breath spent, cheeks aflame, you are thankful it’s so dark outside.

“i’m uhhh spiderman.” he introduces.

you manage to give him a shy smile, “...hi.”

mj will freak when she hears this. you will too once you process what’s happening. worlds are colliding in your very eyes. you have a hopeless crush on him, though now... is it really that hopeless? it’s fate. you don’t believe in fate, but any other explanation escapes you. he awkwardly mutters for you to lead the way and you two fall into pace. yet you don’t feel much calmer, rather now you’re nervous, but in a good way. you trust him. instantly. there is something familiar about his stance, his demeanor, yet you can’t quite place it. you wonder what he looks like behind his mask and sneak a glance at him. there is no way to tell. but your guess? hm... couldn’t be anyone like timothee chalamet, spiderman has some bulk on him. evan peters? maybe, but the aura doesn't quite fit. ross lynch?

you glance at him again, smiling to yourself a little. could be like ross lynch — brown hair, kind eyes —...what if it is ross lynch? can’t be that far of a stretch, most superheroes are hot (you’ve seen captain marvel, or just, as most dub her, god). but if it really is, you’ll faint.

you quickly fix your hair, somewhat self-conscious. you must look a mess right now. how will he fall in love with you when you’re all red and sweaty?

“so... what have you been up to?” he asks. he’s interested. good start. you have to swallow down a manic giggle.

“i went to this concert with my friend.” you say, a bit breathless, “it was so, so much fun, i just forgot to charge my phone so...” you tilt your head to him, flash him your most lovely smile, “i’m glad you showed up.”

“just uhhh—“ he fumbles, “doing my job! yes.”

“i know you’re like super busy—“ you continue shyly, hooking a strand of hair behind your ear (you are too good at this. if it wasn’t love at first sight, it sure as hell going to be at second), “—fighting crime, saving people... so it means a lot that you... you know... are not doing that right now to make sure i make it home safely.”

most don’t know this (with the exception of mj, that is) but you are very sly and calculating when you need to be. so you, gracefully and absolutely ‘unintentionally’, step closer to him, walking side by side, shoulders brushing. he fidgets, anxious, and you can only assume he is a bit flustered under that mask of his. your heart skips happy beats. you wonder if you whined enough would he web-sling you back to your apartment. you’ve never flown before. it must be exhilarating.

“your safety is just as important, (n—“ he promptly shuts up, swallows, then clears his throat, “uh... what’s your name, again?” you introduce yourself with another love-struck smile, “haha, i’m spiderman...” he chuckles nervously.

you lean in. he freezes. “i know.”

“so, uh, anyway, anything else i can do for you?” he wonders aloud, his voice unnaturally deep. you wonder if his throat hurts from putting all that stress on his vocal cords. alas, his identity must be kept top secret -- if it really is ross lynch, you understand that his career as a heartthrob is more important -- and so you refrain from questioning him. though, now that you think about it, you are a bit parched. power walking home really takes a lot out of the body, and you could definitely use a sugary drink. probably not the best idea, but you still have a mountain of homework, so it’s not like you’ll go to sleep once you’re actually home.

besides, the more time you spend with this, presumably, insanely handsome superhero - the better.

“actually...” you say with a dreamy smile, “i’d go for a drink right now. like starbucks. oh yea, definitely starbucks.” as overpriced as their coffee is, the flavor is impeccable.

spiderman is quiet for a moment, possibly considering whether to dismiss you or not, or trying to locate the nearest starbucks in the map of his mind.

lastly, “sure.” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice, “there’s one a few blocks down...i think.”

“ahh...” you nod, looking down at your shoes wistfully. no, they are not uncomfortable, actually the opposite of that. but he doesn’t know that. this is your one and only chance to see the city from a birds eye view, and there is no chance in hell you’re missing out on it. you’ll scam your way into anything.

“are you scared of heights?” he suddenly asks.

you jerk, startled, wide-eyed, in absolute disbelieve that your cheap tricks are actually working, “...no. why?” you narrow your eyes, all suspicious and pretend like.

he opens his arms, “well...come here.”

“what?”

“we’re taking a shortcut. will be fun, promise.” he insists. you heart roars in joy. he is so in love with you. fighting a grin, you sling your arms over his neck, and his arm snakes it’s way around your waist, pressing you close.

“just...hold on tightly.” you can barely hear him over the drum of your heartbeat. and before you can prepare - physically and mentally - you’re shot into the air, wind in your ears, adrenaline in your veins.

the city goes in vertigo and you laugh, wondrous and scared out of your wits, but excited all the same. the glimmering lights, car beeps and snippets of conversation fade into an incoherent whistle. your eyes start to water and so you shut them for a moment, before opening them again and seeing queens from so far up before your vision blurs as you race forward.

when he sets you down, you’re on shaky legs, hair a mess, smile so wide it hurts your cheeks but you can’t help it.

“that was...” you start, breathless, “so...so awesome. best uber i’ve ever had.”

“five stars?”

“i’d give you ten if it was possible.”

starbucks is up and running and unsurprisingly empty of patrons and the two of you slowly walk over, mindful of your wobbly stance. he grasps your shoulder, steadying you, and you nod at him gratefully. being the true gentleman he is, he opens the door for you with a dramatic bow, and you giggle a you enter.

“yo!” the barista, a young college student, calls, “sup, spiderman?”

“hey, george.”

“friend of yours?” you whisper to him.

“yep. two free coffees, coming right up.” he mutters back, stalking to the counter before you can stop him. your orders are usually complicated and absolutely bizarre, but you suppose something simple for this hectic night wouldn't be that bad--

your mouth falls open when he says the exact order of your favorite drink. word for word. even the pronunciation is similar. and for himself he picks peter’s go-to. the barista, you suppose calling him george would be appropriate, nods and goes to fix your drinks. you wander to spiderman, blushing.

“how...did you know my favorite order?” you pipe up.

“oh-uh... i’m good at reading people.” he explains quickly, “it’s uhh--...part of my superpower.”

“wow, that’s awesome, wish i had powers.” you say, “actually, you ordered peter’s fav.” you admit, “oh! uh, peter’s my friend.”

“he sounds like a really cool dude.”

“you...don’t know anything about him?”

“uh...it’s the name. peter’s a strong name. for a...strong cool guy.”

“he’s kind of a dork, to be honest.” you mutter with a soft smile, “but he’s really sweet.”

“so...you like him?”

“‘course i like him!” you say, just as george announces your drinks are ready, “he’s my friend.” you finish, quickly maneuvering past him to get your coffee.

“right...friend...”

there was a mutual agreement to walk back, since neither of you wanted to risk spilling your drinks on unknowing townies or yourselves. to your surprise, he had lifted his mask up, just a bit, to expose his jaw and lips and to sip his delicious drink. and yes, you might have stared excessively and shamelessly, and yes, you were almost convinced it was ross lynch himself walking you home, and yes, the urge to kiss him for this fantastic date came in waves. one moment you wanted to throw your arms around him and taste the coffee drops on his lips, but the next you recoiled and re-thought your approach. alas, your street came into view all too quick.

you stop, and so does he, and with a somewhat sad smile, you say, “well, i won’t keep you any longer. there’s probably a robbery happening or something, and i’m...” you turn away, see your apartment complex looming, “home.”

“uh—yea, totally.” he nods, “uhm...it was a pleasure to meet you, (name). i had fun.”

now or never.

instead of giving him some lame, forgettable goodbye, you throw your arms around him and squeeze tightly, smiling into his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you loosely, stiffly, as if uncertain whether it’s the right thing to do or not. blushed like a rose, you tilt your head and land a soft kiss on the side of his lips, “that’s for good luck.” you murmur, smiling deliriously, lastly pulling a way and waving, “and for the record, i had fun too.”

he says nothing, too stunned to move.

you, in the elevator, your dead phone grasped in your hand, feeling like your heart might bust out of your chest, and he, sitting on a roof of a nearby building, watching, waiting for the light in your room to turn on as an indication that you’re finally safe, mutter: “holy shit.”

tags(i wasn’t able to tag the italicized!): @toospicy-peppermint - @badbitsh13 - @hotshot-deserves-more-love - @bitcheekun - @songofcosplay - @magical-spit - @stxrtreatment - @kxssiewrites - @captain-lovemeplease - @myangelarcade - @goldenrunaway

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rosenbergh · 4 years

Text

Attic slumber parties

I wrote a fic based on this post by @dashuisofanubis because I have no self restraint lmao

Summary: Noa has nightmares and doesn’t feel safe in her room after the events in the season two finale. Solution? Attic slumber parties which keep getting bigger.

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

So here’s the thing: when you’re minding your own business in your room and then someone you were supposed to be able to trust shows up, chloroforms you, kidnaps you, and wants to use you for a ritual along with her partner in crime (another person you were supposed to be able to trust!)—that’s kind of a hard thing to get over.

When it gets revealed that you’re an Egyptian princess, well, that’s something that requires some processing, too. Noa had her suspicions, of course, but to get it confirmed like that with a disgusting piece of skin in a baggie was…something else.

The whole ‘holding the grail up to save Jeroen from getting killed despite not knowing if she would survive the ritual’ thing was probably the worst of it.

But she’s dealing with it! It’s over, done, it happened. Wolf, or Raven, or whatever he wants to call himself, is gone and so is Vera. She prefers to focus on the positives, just forget the whole thing entirely and move on.

At least, that was the plan. When she’s back in her room in the attic, she gets this sick twinge in her stomach. Noa staunchly ignores it and crawls in her bed to go to sleep. The ghost is gone, too (the ghost that is her ancestor, because her life wasn’t crazy enough already), so she has all the peace she needs for a good night’s sleep.

She dreams about being in her room, a place that was supposed to be hers and safe, but Vera and Wolf are there. They sneer and laugh and mock her, you’re not Noa, you’re Fazia, and there’s rope around her wrists, and they’re in the tower—Raven is about to kill Jeroen so she holds up the grail despite his pleas to the contrary, except she doesn’t have the grail, it’s gone, and Raven and Vera are so angry—

She wakes up on the floor, her cheeks wet. “But I love you,” she’s saying. “But I love you.”

Disoriented, she looks around, and concludes she must have fallen out of bed. The dream is over, it wasn’t real. In reality, everything turned out okay, but she still doesn’t feel safe.

Eventually, she goes back to bed and cries herself to sleep.

The morning after her nightmare, she sees the bags under her eyes that she saw in the mirror reflected in Jeroen’s. She doesn’t need to ask to know that he had a nightmare, too. He doesn’t ask, either. Both of them know.

Amber, on the other hand, is well-rested and very concerned in that Amber way of hers. She asks if she’s okay, to which Noa replies yes.

“Are you sure?” Amber asks, her perfectly epilated eyebrows resting in a frown. “You look tired. Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” she lies. “I’m just tired because of everything that happened.”

She still doesn’t look satisfied. “Okay, but if something is up, you can always tell me. You know that, right?”

“Of course, Amber,” Noa says. “Thank you.”

The next evening, when she goes up to her room, Jeroen joins her under the guise of watching their favorite horror movies together. It’s very reminiscent of the first time they watched a movie together, except this time when they fall asleep in her bed, it’s deliberate.

Raven and Vera are gone but she’s still the ‘chosen one’, like she’s some overglorified unicorn instead of a human being, and what if there are other rituals that have to involve her? Other people that need her? The possibility of opening the door in her room to another Vera with more chloroform is not an irrational fear and she thinks that, actually, that’s the worst part.

It’s the worst of worst parts, and she dreams about people she trusts like she used to trust Vera and Wolf showing up in her room and the whole mess happening all over again, until she’s gasping awake.

“Whoa,” Jeroen says, steadying, like it’s not weird that they’re both awake at—she blearily glances at the clock—four in the morning. “It’s okay, you’re fine, you’re fine, Noa.”

She’s silent and just breathes while he rubs her arms like he’s trying to soothe the dream away.

“Sorry,” she says when she can’t take the silence anymore.

“For what?”

“Waking you up.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I was already awake.”

She looks at him as best as she can in the dark room, concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you?” he counters, which, well, she really doesn’t.

Still, despite herself, she confesses, “I’m scared.”

He’s running his fingers through her hair lightly, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“It’s okay,” he says again, like if he says it enough times it’ll be true. “It’s okay.”

They spend the next couple of nights like that, always careful to make sure Victor doesn’t catch him going to the attic at night. It doesn’t always stop the nightmares, but not being alone in her room helps.

“That smells godly,” Appie says, walking into the kitchen excitedly. “What is it? When is it done?”

Trudie gives him a reproachful look while Noa crouches down to put the batter in the oven.

“You’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out,” says Trudie.

Noa stands up again and gives him a smile. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“Something baked by Trudie and Noa? I don’t doubt it.” He smiles back dreamily. “My taste buds thank you in advance.”

She laughs and Trudie exits the kitchen to start cleaning elsewhere.

“So, Noa,” Appie starts nonchalantly once they’re alone. “I couldn’t help but notice Jeroen’s bed has been empty these past few nights.”

“You noticed that, did you? Your powers of observation are out of this world.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are you crazy kids up to at night? Slumber parties? Ghost hunting?” He does a dramatic gasp, and whispers, “Karaoke?"

“No,” she says sweetly. “Sleeping.”

He frowns. “Well, that’s boring.”

“Tell you what, next time you can join us and liven things up, how does that sound?”

His eyes light up. “Yes, that’s a great idea! I told you, everyone needs a bed Ap. Without one, life is just too sad.”

“Okay, Appie,” she says, humoring him.

She’s sure he’s joking, right up until the moment when not just Jeroen shows up in her room that evening, but Appie as well.

When Appie makes himself comfortable and is clearly gearing up for some shenanigans, she sternly tells him she just wants to sleep.

“Okay,” he says. “So I guess you don’t want to hear about the time Jeroen stripped in front of a teacher.”

Jeroen’s eyes go wide.

“Tell me,” Noa urges, curious, ignoring Jeroen’s protests while Appie gleefully launches into the story.

They spend the rest of the night like that, telling ridiculous stories until they fall asleep. Not a single one of them have a nightmare.

The thing is, once Appie starts extending his nightly visits to more than just one time, Amber starts noticing it. And wants in. It’s really hard to say no to Amber when she’s determined, so Noa resigns herself to having three extra people sleep in her room.

It’s way too rowdy an environment for falling asleep in, and if they make more noise Victor’s gonna hear them, but when Noa laughs at Appie’s Victor impression, she doesn’t mind it so much.

“The last time I used my Victor impression, it was to con ourselves a bad replacement of Trudie. It backfired, though.”

Amber shudders next to Noa. “Don’t remind me of that.”

All four of them are in Noa’s bed, and it’s a really tight fit, but she can’t bring herself to demote them to a sleeping bag or chair this time, not when their prescence makes her forget the reason she doesn’t want to be alone in this room.

“Replacement?” Noa asks, confused.

They explain that Trudie had been fired, and as a result things at the house had gotten very unpleasant.

“He built a fence?” she repeats shrilly, before quickly lowering her voice. They’re at the attic, but there is a limit to the amount of sound they can make if they don’t want to get caught. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it was big and blocked the stairs to the first floor completely,” Jeroen confirms.

“And if we didn’t get up at a ridiculously early hour, we didn’t get to eat breakfast!” Amber says, still sounding incredulous about it. “I ended up fainting in class because I was so hungry.”

“So what changed? Why was Trudie allowed to come back?”

“Mick’s father pretty much saved the day,” says Appie.

Noa changes the subject, because the thought of big fences blocking her way out of the house gives her an icky feeling in her stomach. “Hey, Amber, I noticed you were wearing a new dress today. It’s really pretty.”

Amber looks extremely flattered. “Thank you! Finally, someone who can appreciate good taste.”

Appie and Jeroen exchange looks and eyerolls at the direction the conversation is going, but both are smiling.

“I think the clothes you wear are really pretty, too!” Amber continues, excited. “We should go shopping together sometime.”

“I’d like that,” she says. “I don’t always buy my dresses, though. Sometimes, if I have the time and fabric, I make them myself.”

“Really?” Amber looks at her with wide eyes. “I wish I could do that!”

“I could teach you,” she offers.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not really great with that sort of stuff,” she rambles. “I’m more of a ‘buy the most pretty looking stuff with my dad’s credit card’ type of girl.”

“Nonsense. Everyone can learn how to do it. You’ve already got the style, you just need the skills.”

Amber looks like she just handed her the moon. It makes Noa smile.

“Okay, as interesting as all of this is, I think it’s time we talked about what’s really important: horror.”

“No, Ap, I’ll get nightmares,” Amber protests.

“Well, then what else is there to talk about?”

“Something all of us can talk about,” Jeroen adds.

All are silent for a moment, before Amber perks up. “I’ve got it! We can play truth or dare.”

Appie grins. “Okay, but if it ends with Jeroen and Noa kissing again, I’m out of here.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” Noa informs them the next night while Nienke gets in the bed right next to Amber. Appie follows.

Fabian stands next to the bed, uncertain. “I don’t think I’ll fit. I can sleep in the chair.”

“You can fit, come on, just try it,” Nienke says.

“No, I agree with Noa,” says Jeroen. “This is getting way too cramped.”

“Well, then, why don’t you sleep in the chair?” Amber asks, sickly sweet. “And then Fabian can join us.”

Jeroen is silent and doesn’t move from his position, lying on the edge next to Noa. Next to Noa is Amber, then Nienke, and then on the other edge is Appie.

“That’s what I thought,” Amber says smugly to Jeroen.

Fabian smiles at them like they’re crazy and Noa is starting to think the same thing, but he gets in the bed next to Appie nonetheless.

It’s tight and Noa can barely move, yet somehow, when she falls asleep, it’s the best sleep she’s had in weeks.

(The next time she’s alone in her room, she doesn’t feel a sick twinge in her stomach. There’s the memory of getting ambushed by Vera, but there’s also countless of memories of sleepovers, and she chooses to focus on those—she feels safe again.)

#het huis anubis #noa van rijn #my post #hha fic

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hs-devote · 4 years

Text

13. T R E P I D A T I O N

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter ; If there was the worst possibility, as he recalled, he kept a few guns in his bottom drawer – just in case.

Harry sighed before putting down his mobile phone. He pressed the door button next to his office phone and left the door unlocked. He sat quietly in his seat waiting for the door to open. In less than a minute, the door opened. One of them stepped forward and showing his warrant card, spoke words that made him froze.

13. TREPIDATION

Never in a million years, Harry thought the police will come to him for a crime claim. He was sure Mario always would help him clean from every crime Marcel committed. Besides, Marcel hadn't done that for the past months.

Nothing major triggered him to do such a thing lately. To Harry's knowledge, Marcel was only a few times being in his body, the most he did was snapping to the employees or yelling to anywho angered him. More or less, he just watched Harry from the darkness.

Something happened and it was beyond Harry's awareness.

Everyone, except the polices of course, felt their jaws dropped to the floor. No exception with Y/N who had just appeared behind the mass. Harry just stared at them flatly. Then, he averted his eyes to Y/N who was seen in complete shock; her face pale, eyes wide as if seeing a ghost. They didn’t talk to each other verbally. But, through his gaze, Harry assured her this would be fine while Y/N shot him worried look. Neither her and him, both of them didn't like this.

Harry kept himself calm. He rose from his seat, politely looked at the authorities. Yet deep down inside of him, he was trying to make Marcel not to cause a scene or it would make it more difficult. Y/N knew her boyfriend was battling with himself, she just hoped Marcel didn't suddenly trade his soul over Harry.

“Can I talk with my assistant first?” he asked. He wouldn't deny or speak more about anything else because it wouldn't relieve him at all. He could if he want, but that would put more strain on whatever the problem was.

One of the officers nodded, “One minute.”

Y/N looked at them dumbfounded, how the fuck he could talk if they only just gave him a minute?

Nonetheless, she continued to step past them – standing face to face with Harry. Her feelings becoming messed up since she didn't know what would happen in the future. She wanted to hug him, but she couldn't. They couldn't.

"Everything will be fine. I'll be out at least by night. You don't need to talk about this with mum, no need to worry. In the meantime, please take over my work for today. I'll let you know immediately." His voice steady, "You know what to do."

Y/N sighed before nodding. “Promise me to keep your temper?” she murmured so no one would hear, even though she wasn't so sure either.

Harry gave her a small smile. He patted her shoulder before stepping away. From the corner of her eyes, the officers took Harry's hand and didn't use handcuffs on him. Of course they didn't. Harry wasn't a criminal. She let out an annoyed groan before dropping her body on Harry's chair.

“Mr Langham, would you do me a favour? If anyone asks what's wrong with Mr Styles, please make sure they don't know he was arrested.” She ordered to Bob, or who usually she called with Mr Langham. “Just say he was investigating some cases with them. Thank you.”

“Will do, Ms Y/L/N.” Bob nodded before excusing his presence. Y/N felt a little relieved because he could be trusted. She leaned back, holding her head up – looking at the white ceiling. She didn't know what crime Marcel had committed, and when. In the past few months, he hadn't appeared often in front of her and Harry. And that made her worry.

“What was that?”

She turned her face directly to Madeleine who was standing beside her. Her blue eyes shot her a glare, her palm still holding her chest.

“Pardon?”

“The fucking police? What did Mr Styles do?”

Y/N chewed her lips, "I don't know Mads. He just asked me to take care of the rest of his work and no need to worry."

“Why didn't they send the summonses first? That's ridiculous!”

Yes, why didn't Harry get a letter first? Something's not right... – Her inner goddess shook her head

"I don't know either." She answered, "And, Mads? Can you help me to monitor online media starting today? If there's news about Mr Styles, let me know."

“Okay, then.” Madeleine replied. Before she returned to her desk, she remembered something. Harry still had one more client to meet today. Madeleine wasn’t sure if they could push back since they would arrive in ten minutes.

"Y/N, I forgot to tell Mr Styles he has a meeting with Telegraph right in ten minutes from now." She sighed, "Think you can handle it?"

Y/N arched her eyebrow, recalling her memory because she didn’t remember having a meeting today. All she knew just some teleconference he had done earlier. “Meeting with Telegraph?”

“Not a meeting, actually. It’s only the Selley girl do their regular visit.” Madeleine shrugged her shoulder, “Remember her?”

Victoria Selley from the Telegraph. Harry’s ex-girlfriend.

Of course, Y/N knew!

“I do.” She nodded, “Just send her right away when she arrives.”

Madeleine nodded, “In here? Mr Styles’ office?

"He gave me permission to meet his guest in his office." She lied. Harry never give her that permission, she just wanted to surprise Victoria. It was unprofessional; yes, she knew. Yet, this was just regular discussion. After all, if she wanted to do such a thing, there were CCTVs all around in every corner of this office.

Victoria did nothing wrong to them. But, she didn't like her vibe. Sounds rude, yes indeed, but she just wanted to test the water. She wanted to get rid of her negative thoughts towards Victoria if the woman could earn her respect. Because when they first met, she left the bitter taste of the impression. “How nice of him,” she murmured. Then, she grinned widely. “Actually, you look fit sitting on Mr Styles chair.”

Y/N raised eyebrow for the second time, “Go back to work.”

Her co-worker just laughed before leaving her alone to get back to her desk. Shortly after Y/N being left alone, Harry’s office phone rang. She waited a moment before picking up the phone. Madeleine told her that Victoria just arrived and was waiting in the lounge.

Harry's door opened not long after she gave Madeleine's permission to allow Victoria to enter her boyfriend's office. The tall blonde woman looked stunning in her yellow attire, Y/N didn't doubt it. But, what bothered her was that she was aware of the woman in front of her tried to look attractive on purpose. She knew she would meet with Harry so she wore her best clothes and did her make up bolder. Y/N was no problem with that. It was just a few facts that she found about Victoria, made her see this woman somewhat different.

She didn't have the right yet to hate on her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend knowing the woman had no idea she and Harry were together. It was just her natural feeling to dislike every woman who tried to flirt with Harry. She was this jealous, she admitted. Who doesn't like it when someone flirts with their lover?

Her assumption seemed right when she saw the look on Victoria’s face changed when making eye contact with her. Her smile sour, but her legs still stepped forward. Y/N smiled, getting up from the chair to shake her hand. She offered Victoria to sit, which the woman hesitantly nodded.

“Where’s Harry? Madeleine didn’t tell me that you’re the one I'll see.” Said her while putting her Chanel bag on the table. Y/N slightly rolled her eyes.

“He has something important to do out there.” Y/N nodded, “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, we do being straight forward, do we?” Victoria cackled, “I just want to talk with him. I don’t want and need others.”

If she could straight to the point, Y/N could too..

"I'm his assistant. You can talk about anything about both companies to me and I'll tell him right away."

Victoria gaped, shaking her head. “Why are you so stubborn?!”

Because you were too...

"If you can defend your intention, so can I." Y/N smiled; a mocking smile actually. Deep down in her heart, she was sure Victoria wasn't just coming to talk about Erskine and Telegraph. She had a certain mission.

Y/N straighten her posture while both her hands rested on the table, "So, tell me, Ms Selley. What made you come here? If I'm not mistaken, there's nothing wrong between Erskine and your company."

"When is Harry coming to the office?" instead of answering her question, Victoria folded her arms with her blue eyes glared at Y/N. If Y/N could laugh now, she would do it right in front of Victoria's face to tell the woman she did really hate the hidden intention. Sometimes, it crossed Y/N's mind why her boyfriend used to date a woman like this. If Harry is someone so mature, Victoria still has childish behaviour on her.

Well then, if she wanted to play. Y/N would gladly accept it.

“I don’t know, Ms Selley. He’s an adult and I’m not his nanny nor his mum. He’ll come back if he wants.” She sighed, “Why are you so curious?”

“None of your business.”

“Then, if he wants to come or no… it’s not your business either.”

The blonde woman groaned, stomping her feet before standing up from the chair. Her hands harshly grabbed her expensive bag off the table, her perfectly manicured nails pointed rudely at Y/N. “I know you fucked him, did you?! Don’t tell me otherwise because I know you did!”

Too fast to jump into conclusion. Why she can think like that? Even if it so, it's none of your business, grumpy lady! - her inner goddess rolled her eyes

She didn’t want to confirm or deny this. If she did a wrong move, everything would be a mess. What she would do now is, answering but not justifying anything. It wasn't Victoria's right to know after all.

“Why do you think so? Your jealousy is unhealthy, Ms Selley.”

“I knew it from the start!” Victoria’s laugh was wicked, “How will the employees think if they know their boss is screwing his own assistant?!”

“If you want to try to get the second chance, this isn’t the way. You should be aware if you want to start rumours like that. No one will believe you, Victoria. Your reputation is bad enough in here.”

“Fuck whatever you say,” she cursed, “Don’t think Harry is the most perfect man in this world. I’m sorry for burst your bubble, but he is far from it.”

“I’m all ears if you want to rant your hallucination.”

"He was abusive! He's cruel and rude! He won't hesitate to harm you if you don't obey his words. He never regretted and would always do that to all his girlfriend. He doesn't think twice to hurt anyone if they poke his wrong side. He once made his ex dying. Was that not a monster?" she screeched, "What do you think of a man strangled his girlfriend just because she didn't want to do a sex tape as he asked her? Maybe you were wondering why his previous relationship was only lasting for a short time? Because of that! His exes no longer want to be in contact with him so they chose to disappear from his life!”

Y/N felt her anger rise. Victoria didn’t have a right to make such nonsense. That was a very heinous accusation. She didn’t believe every word that came out from this crazy lady’s mouth. No way Harry would do such a thing. No way Marcel could be like that.

"My boss isn't as abusive as you accused. Did you hear yourself? You just exposed your disgrace if he did that, which I don't believe since you're the one who standing here to get back in touch with him. Accusing him of being abusive such a low blow." She scowled, "You're not aware you were talking bullshit in his own company, aren't you?

“Don’t start with because I'm not like any other girl because that’s also bullshit.” Y/N continued before letting Victoria open her mouth. She couldn’t help but think Victoria’s way of making too much sense, and talking rumours that were too abnormal to make. Victoria was supposed to be those women who didn’t want to be associated with Harry anymore if he did that in their relationship. Yet, she stood here unaware of her stupidity.

“Because he cheated on me! I left him because he had one night stand! My best friend is also his ex who was forced to record their sex tape. She told her story and warned me in the first few months of our relationship. Of course, I don’t believe her. Harry fucking Styles was abusive? No one would believe that.”

"Okay, that's enough. Looks like you're on crack or you should see someone professional to help with your foggy mind." Y/N spoke, "If you knew he does that, why you're here? You're supposed to hide from him?"

She shook her head, taking a step closer to Victoria. "That's what makes me believe you're lying. Be careful, Ms Selley. You're digging your grave, right now."

“Because! He did that to his ex within two months in the relationship, but not with me. I broke up with him after five months and he didn't do that. I believe I made him a better person."

Y/N tilted her head, staring at Victoria with a sour look. "Only in your wildest dream," she whispered, "If you don't have anything important to talk, the door is still unlocked. I won't talk about this to Mr Styles."

Victoria screamed in frustration, taking her expensive bag and stomping away from the office. Y/N exhaled loudly while rubbing her temple. Why that woman was so obsessed with her boyfriend? She didn’t trust her at all. Not even a little. She believed more in Madeleine who said Victoria was manipulative so Harry broke up with her. Victoria indeed manipulative; Y/N could tell from all the accusation she made. . . . .

“Got any news yet?”

“So far, news of his arrest has only spread within Erskine. They're very good at keeping it from coming out to the press.”

"Of course, it is. He has money and power to work it out. No wonder the police released him right away after he was being taken. He must have used his networking."

“Then, what's the plan? He was just parole like that, yet you have given them the footage from CCTVs?”

"Well, that was only a small part of the shocking therapy I prepared. You will see his clients will withdraw from his company."

“Will you continue to sue him and take the case to the court?”

"It doesn't matter, he will bribe the police at the end of the day. What we have to do is, hurt his pride and damage his image. He must remember who he is. He was nothing if the Styles didn't spoil him.”

“What will we do next?”

“Do me a favour to track down his ex-girlfriends, let me know who looks like could be our ally.” . . . .

Until a week after Harry was taken by the police, no news leaked through the company's walls. Y/N did her job to protect her boss; answered every question that came to her desk from people about his arrest. At first, she was quite surprised because some employees knew Harry was arrested, but she quickly denied it.

Her defence was proven when Harry returned to the office as usual the day after his arrest. Of course when he walked from the main lobby to disappear from the eye-catching, he could feel in every step he took, their eyes were always following him. He understood for sure, the appearance of the polices with him yesterday led to raising many questions in the minds of all his employees.

When Harry entered his office, Y/N quickly catch up and bombarded him with questions. The woman wasn't satisfied with Harry's story over the phone. He told her that Dale was the one who made the police come to him. He filed the incident at the club on Y/N's birthday night some time ago and Harry was sued under the charge of violence.

Being a powerful man certainly brought him luck. If not, he couldn't wander around freely like this. He also believed that Dale wouldn't bring simple matters like this to the court if only to blackmail him. Into two weeks, the effect began to show. The media started reporting rumours of his arrest and was proven by amateur pictures when he entered the police station with both of his hand being held behind his back. The employees went crazy with some of them accused Y/N of trying to protect Harry. Some justified her action for keeping the good name of their boss and company was one their duties, while the rest attacked her; most of them were people who were hurt from being Harry's anger aim.

However, Y/N didn't bother because she was sure it was just a momentary emotion. They would be fine again over time. But, the nightmare was that the rumours affected their clients who intended to work with Erskine. One after one they were backing out of from the partnership without any explanation. Some even decided to terminate the agreement one-sided. She must be able to convince them before forced to file a lawsuit for the termination.

How did Harry response?

His temper back at their instability. He didn't hesitate to bark at the employee who gave him a suspicious look, it made him uncomfortable. He was brave to fire anyone who still addressed the rumours. Y/N knew that Harry was unstable, she didn't want to take the risk of Marcel being the one in the company. So, she asked her boyfriend to rest at home for a few days while the clients would take over by her and other responsible directors, because it was their job. As the CEO, he didn't need to be bothered by this. . . . .

“Marissa will send you the report by six today, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Mr Atkins.”

This was the tenth day since the news leaked to the media and the number of companies asking for termination has been numerous. Not many of them could be persuaded to keep the partnership. Y/N couldn't imagine the tantrum she would receive from Harry if she had sent the report. She just finished a meeting with directors and legal counsel for next anticipation. Good things they still had faith in them. Meanwhile, she was thinking of making a press release in response to the news. But, she preferred to ignore them, she believed the news would pass soon as the wind if no one brought it up again.

If Y/N was overwhelmed with clients, Harry wasn't really rested at his house. He still worked through his laptop. However, he lately had often been plagued with unknown messages from always different numbers. The messages really bothered him. Every time he tried to call the number, it always be diverted or the number was no longer active.

Enjoy the festive?

Every minute you lose hundreds of dollars

You're not gentlemen to hid in your bunker while your employees trying to save your company

Accept the fate of yours

“Fucking hell!” Harry threw his phone away; against the hardness of the floor until it dies instantly. He rubbed his face furiously before picking it up. With unsteady steps, he went to his bathroom to wash his face. He wasn't surprised to find Marcel was shaking his head as he raised his face to look at the mirror in front of him. Not his wet face he was seeing, but Marcel's who looked so done.

“Why are you so weak, Harry?”

“No need me to answer, you already got the answer, Marcel.”

“That Dale bastard really pissed you off, huh?” Marcel sighed, “You waste your time if you keep staying here. Go back to the office and let me take care of this mess.”

"I won't," Harry said in a flat line, "I know what you would do. And I won't let them.”

"C'mon, Harry. We all know this little mess affected all your work; your work that hard to maintain. You can take a rest and I will make Dale disappear from this earth. As simple as that."

"You do the work and I am the one who still gets the consequences. That's not about you, it's me."

Marcel smiled, leaning his face to look at Harry more closely. They shared the same face, same hair, same body, yet with different eyes, smile, and character. Harry and Marcel were like two magnetic poles, contradictory but a unity.

“Deep down in your heart, you admit that you want to vanish him from your life. Don't deny it, Harry.” He smirked, “A man like him doesn't deserve to be treated as usual.”

“If I do, I won't do it your way, Marcel. We may share the same life, but we aren't the same.”

"You know what? I have been thinking about why you haven't get rid of him already or ask for my help. You know I could help. But, I let you because I want to see. And now I'm sure, maybe you have a more cruel way than me. And if you do, we're the same.”

“We're not.”

“If that so, why do you keep on letting him ruin your life if you don't prepare a surprise?” Marcel laughed, “You know where I am, Harry.”

Harry blinked his eyes, his green irises no longer saw Marcel. He could only see his face. No Marcel. Only him.

No, he didn't have the intention to vanish Dale from his life like the way Marcel accused him. He really wanted his life free from Dale, but he had to find a way that made Dale himself refused to come to him, and not Harry doing the work.

After washing his face, Harry exited the bathroom and sent a message to Y/N that he would pick her up from the office. He needed to meet his lawyer, and he wanted Y/N to be with him. . . . .

“I've been received some unknown messages in the last few days.” Harry showed his phone to his lawyer, “And I'm sure it's Dale. Who else if not him? He's the one who currently starting a war with me. The messages always come from different numbers. I didn't delete them. Every time I tried to call, it would pass through voice mail or the number is no longer active.”

Harry and Y/N currently on meeting with his lawyer to discuss this issue. He didn't rely on Erskine legal team who took care of the arrested case since it happened in the office. Aside from that, this was more personal. Mr Davys, or Harry called him Allen, was his family lawyer. Both of them knew each other wish and Harry trusted the privacy on him. One thing he asked Allen, to not tell Anne that Harry was currently facing two cases together.

Well, he tried so hard that the violence's allegations didn't reach his mother. Anne would freak out and bombarded him with million questions, and he didn't want the case being Anne's burden too.

“What about your case at Erskine?” Allen asked, handing his phone back. “The last thing I heard was you paid the fine. How's Dale response?”

“Nothing from him and his lawyer. Like, he gave up all that which I'm sure he has other motives greater than to enliven the case.”

Allen nodded, "Yeah. I can see why. Can I ask Erskine legal team about some details of the case? Maybe this will help with his new motives while I collect the data. We will sue him if all of the evidence is complete."

"Sure, you can come to the office at any time."

Allen excused himself after the meeting was felt to be enough. Harry would send the transcript of those unknown messages tomorrow morning.

Now, it was only him and Y/N in this restaurant with a few other visitors. Harry felt good to be out of the house after all this time he shut himself up.

“Why you didn't tell me about the messages, H?” Y/N questioned while she sliced her cake. “I don't know that Dale still bothering you after the case.”

“I don't want to make you worry, darling. It's just messages.” He shrugged, “Not bother me much.”

“It does bother you, H. If not, you wouldn't meet Allen tonight. And that's what worried me.”

Harry smiled, his ringed fingers stroking her smooth hair. "I know you're currently on the peak of the work so I don't want to add any burden." he pinched her nose, "Anyway, how's the work?"

“Actually, I have bad and good news.” Y/N swatted his hands since her nose was getting red because he squeezed her so hard, “The bad is, some new companies who would propose partnership, already cancelled it. The good one is, we succeeded in convincing several existing partnership. And the old companies from the beginning of your father's not bothered at all. We had contacted them and they didn't care about the case.”

“It's still fifty-fifty,” he murmured, “But, it's okay. Can you send me the list tomorrow?”

“Are you returning to the office tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby.”

She nodded, "And oh, Harry. I forgot to tell you something. Both of my parents will come here tomorrow. My dad took his leave and mum decided to bring him to visit me. They will stay for four days before returning to Swansea. So, don't be surprised if you come to my house, dad or mum will be the one who opens the door."

“Why don't we take them to lunch or dinner together? I've met your mum but not with your dad.” He suggested, “We can cook for them or go to a restaurant. Whichever you choose.”

"That's a good idea, I'll let them know." She beamed, "Thank you for that."

"No need to thank me, baby." He grinned, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Y/N just smiled sweetly before aiming a spoonful to her mouth. While she was busy eating her dessert, Harry was on his phone working on some report freshly received from his directors. He knew his girlfriend had limit working on those lists. Asking his directors to did some projects would her to ease her workload. Harry didn't want his darling girlfriend fell sick from being too overworked. Her health remained number one. Hell, everything about her was his number one. He didn't realise he was on his phone too long when he saw Y/N had leaned her head on his shoulder and covered her mouth once or twice, eyes looked red and tired.

Slowly, he rubbed her temple. “Do you want to go home? I see you've yawned a few times.”

“Sure, I'm already sleepy and today's work really drains my energy.” Y/N nodded, her hand was ready to take her purse.

“Where are we going? Yours or mine?”

"Wherever you want." She grinned, "You're the one who drives."

Harry just shook his head before asked the waiter for the bill. They left immediately after his card had made the payment. Since it was late, not many people were passing by. Yet, when he wanted to open his car's door for Y/N, Harry felt someone was following them. He quickly shoved the thought away after looking around and found nothing suspicious. His feeling told him he had to get home soon.

. . Please excuse some errors

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