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snowball-doie · 1 month ago

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| pairing: Virgin!Hendery x Virgin!fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Loss of virginity. Mentions of sex toys. Protected vaginal sex. Nervous Hendery oml he's just a lil guy trying his best~~

| wc: 5.4k

| aurora's note: happy birthday to me and my birthday twin, hendery <3 (this is my first time using chinese terms in a fic. please correct me if anything is wrong as i am not familiar with cantonese or mandarin!)

When you two first met, it was funny that you shared a birthday— Neither you nor Hendery thought you’d fall in love with someone who had the same birthday, so it was a bit silly on dates whenever it would come up in conversation, or whenever his friends would be like, “Wait, so how many gifts do we get for you guys?” after you moved in together. “If you only get us one total, you better sleep with one eye open,” Hendery told them. He didn’t fuck around about his birthday. Yeah, it was funny between the two of you, but if there wasn’t a big pile of birthday presents for the both of you every year, he’d hold it against whoever gave you or him the short end of the stick for the entire year.

You thought it was cute. Especially when it was the first year you two spent your birthday together, that felt incredibly momentous because the two of you were still shy around each other while trying to navigate what it was like being in your first ever relationship. Was it okay to hold your hand? Yes, stupid. Was it okay to kiss you? Yes… “I’m sorry if I suck, though,” you had warned him the first time. “No, no… I’m sorry if I suck…” Was it okay to brag about you at work? Of course. Our birthday is approaching, do you want to do anything special— Only if you aren’t busy with friends and family, of course! You laughed at Hendery’s tendency to trip over his own words and fumble trying to say the right thing. He wanted to be a good boyfriend. He wanted to figure out how to treat you well, how to have a healthy, long lasting relationship with someone who meant the whole world to him. And you tried to reassure him as much as you could that he was perfect the way he was, and that his efforts weren’t going unnoticed. “Let’s get dinner together somewhere nice,” you offered. Hendery nodded, cheeks red, his shyness and excitement taking over him.

Hendery found a nice restaurant to take you out to, somewhere out of the ordinary in the hopes that no one would recognize him and take photos of the two of you. The last thing he wanted was to have your first shared birthday together ruined by a dating scandal. He treated you to everything nice. He wore his favorite suit, you impressed him with a pretty dress that had him staring at your tits a second too long before you caught him and he cleared his throat while trying to play it off coolly. At the restaurant, he ordered an expensive wine, eyeing you to see if you were also impressed, which you were. You enjoyed dinner together in a quiet corner, chatting about each other’s work and your birthday wishes for the year. He wished for a world tour with his group, and to spend White Day with you the following year— It was so far away that you didn’t even have it on your radar… but Hendery looked like he’d been considering it for a long time, and it was exciting to him. You wished to get a promotion at work, and to get to meet each other’s families. Hendery chuckled at that. He seemed to be relieved that you were so committed to a relationship with him that you were already considering meeting his parents. He’d never brought a girl home before. Hell, you’d never brought a boy home before… You both talked about what each other’s parents would think of the other. By the time dessert arrived, Hendery’s hand was on your thigh, and his cheeks were tinted red from the alcohol, and that was when he decided to start sobering up in order to get you home safely.

“I’ll just go home with you—”

The waiters began singing happy birthday while placing a piece of chocolate cake decorated with two birthday candles in front of the two of you. Hendery’s grip tightened on your thigh for a brief moment before he removed it altogether. You pouted slightly at the loss of touch. After the waiters left, you and Hendery shared the chocolate cake until you were both too full to eat the last few bites that remained on the plate. He called for the check with his hand, then it immediately found its place on your thigh again, causing you to question where the shy boyfriend you knew disappeared to with his soberness.

“Ready?” he asked you after the check came and went, the balance fully paid.

You nodded.

Hendery took your hand and led you out of the restaurant, navigating his way so well through the narrow streets and alleyways of Seoul. He must’ve heard your comment earlier because instead of guiding you home, Hendery took you back to his place casually, smiling at you nervously as he opened the front door and let you in. You’d stayed over before. Usually the two of you had dates at home because going out ran the risk of getting caught, and once you were comfortable with each other, cuddling in bed throughout the night became commonplace. It never went further than that, however. There was one time you thought that maybe the two of you would finally sleep together, until he rolled off and went to hide in the bathroom for a bit. Since then, you’ve mulled over a million reasons as to why he wouldn’t fuck you that time. Obviously you both knew you were virgins. It was one of the first things to come up in conversation after admitting that neither of you had been in a relationship before— But you figured that him being an idol meant he couldn’t date, but there were plenty of people for him to fuck! Nope… Hendery had the same amount of limited experience you did.

“You want water or anything?” Hendery asked after closing the door behind you and taking off his suit jacket.

You shook your head.

“Wanna open some gifts the boys got us?”

You nodded.

Hendery eyed you for a second. “You okay?”

“Yeah… Just… thinking.”

He nodded understandingly, like he knew there was no point in prying, so he moved to the living room where the piles of gifts from his group members were sitting. He left space on the couch for you to sit next to him. The redness on his face had disappeared during the walk home, and he was acting sober again; Yet when you sat on the couch, Hendery put his hand on your thigh again so casually and without a second thought about what it was making you think… or making you need…

“Let’s see what we’ve got. Chenle’s gifts are usually good, we can start there?”

You nodded again, gulping. “Sure.”

With his free hand, Hendery handed you the gift Chenle labeled for you, then he put his own gift from Chenle on his lap. You’d met the boys a handful of times, so it wasn’t odd that they seemed comfortable enough to buy you gifts for the first birthday you spent together with Hendery— However, you imagined that Hendery made his way around to all of them to make sure they actually got you something so as to not embarrass you or piss him off. It worked, telling by the large box Chenle gift wrapped for you.

Taking Hendery’s lead, you opened the box to reveal a very nice, expensive hair care kit, meanwhile Hendery cheered over the expensive watch he got. Jesus, how much money did Chenle really have?

“Mmm… Yuta next?”

“I thought he was in Japan, when did he have time to send us gifts?”

Hendery laughed. “I have my ways.”

Yuta’s gifts were smaller, but you honestly didn’t care about the size or the price, you were just grateful to be getting anything at all, even if it were due to Hendery’s strong arming.

Your jaw dropped when you opened the gift, immediately shutting the box and trying to hide it from Hendery. But it was too late. His attention was caught. With a laugh, he begged to see what it was, but you refused shyly, keeping the box out of his reach. Hendery laughed harder and stretched over your body in an attempt to steal the box, but the further you leaned away, the more he leaned over you, until eventually he was practically on top of you. Both of you froze. Hendery cleared his throat nervously. His gaze was glued to your lips while you were staring at his eyes to figure out what he was thinking about.

“It can’t be that bad,” he croaked, keeping the topic on Yuta’s gift. “Did he get you something mean? I’ll punch him for you.”

“He’d beat you up.”

“He’s not as scary as he looks.”

“Neither are you.”

Hendery smirked slightly, then used your lowered guard as his opportunity to steal the box before sitting upright on the couch and opening the box. He paused. You also sat up and looked at him rather than the gift.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I wonder what he got me, then.” He chuckled.

Both of you were silent as Hendery opened his gift from Yuta, revealing a pair of fluffy handcuffs meant for sex, hidden beneath a stack of condoms and a letter that read: “Hope these are the right size. Have fun.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d be a dumbass.” Hendery closed his box and set it to the side. You stared at your open gift that remained on his lap. “I’ll return them—”

“Wait.”

Yuta’s gift to Hendery had been a bit more on the nose than the gift to you. In your box was a vibrator with a note that said: “Don’t let him pussy out this time.” And you immediately regretted ever opening up to Yuta about the time you and Hendery nearly fucked— It was a moment of weakness, alright? You were confused, and frankly a bit hurt, and you knew that if you went to anyone really close to Hendery they would lie to you or tell him you were asking around about it, so… You went to someone you knew would give an honest opinion about sex and Henderyl but you never imagined that it would prompt him to send the two of you gifts that screamed, “Just fuck already!”

Was he wrong, though?

It’d been a while since the two of you started dating, and you were already talking about meeting each other’s families and spending White Day together. Was it really outrageous to expect that maybe you and Hendery could finally…

“I’ll keep it,” you told him.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to buy one.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

With a faux sense of confidence, you retrieved your gift and set it to the side so that it was out of sight, out of mind for Hendery.

“What about yours?” you egged on. He looked confused and anxious. “Are you going to keep yours?”

Hendery looked at his closed gift to his far side. “I—” He choked on air. “I don’t know. Not sure when I’d even use it…” He couldn’t bear to look at you as he said it.

“Why not now?”

That brought his attention back to you, his still wide with shock, his hand on your thigh instinctively squeezing, all a sign of him asking if you were sure of what you were saying, like you were an idiot and hadn’t been thinking about it ever since dinner. It seemed fitting, right? Both of you losing your virginities on your birthday… And Yuta was somewhat of a help in instigating what you desired since it gave you a less awkward, or at least less direct, way of telling Hendery that you were ready if he was too.

“O-Okay— Yeah— I mean, if you’re sure, yeah, that’s fine with me too—”

“Not the handcuffs, though.”

Hendery really looked like a deer lost in headlights. Adorable. “Yeah, I never expected—” He tripped over his tongue a bit, causing him to pause. “Are you sure about this, qīn'ài de? Like, absolutely sure?”

You nodded silently, unsure if you would be able to bring yourself to say it out loud due to your embarrassment and the way you couldn’t look at him when his hand started anxiously kneading your thigh. But to your surprise, Hendery lifted your head with a finger under your chin. Then he asked one more time if you were really, really, really fucking sure. When you croaked, “Yes, I’m sure,” Hendery tangled his hands with yours, causing you to whine again at the feeling of his hand abandoning your leg. You squeezed his hands for leverage while you stood up. At eye level with you, Hendery leaned in to kiss you passionately, forcing you to stumble back a step accidentally until he caught you, then began slowly navigating you towards the bedroom.

“Condoms,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Shit— Right—”

Hendery pulled away from you entirely to run back to the couch to retrieve the gift box from Yuta. He was headed back your way when he stopped. You watched as he dug through the box, grabbing only two condoms, leaving the rest and the pair of handcuffs behind before dropping the box onto the couch and returning to you. You giggled as you embraced him for another kiss.

Finally, the two of you were able to make it to the bedroom for real while giggling like a pair of immature idiots who could only laugh about the fact that you two a couple with no experience and that made the idea of having sex seem silly because if it wasn’t that, then it was nerve wracking, and neither of you wanted to think about that. At least he looked as on edge as you were. It comforted you to know that you weren’t alone in the experience or the feelings coursing through your body as Hendery laid you down on the bed gently with a hand cradling the back of your neck for support. Immediately, he tilted his head to begin attacking your neck. In the past, the two of you made out plenty, and as such you discovered that Hendery had a thing for hickies. Lots of them. Everywhere. Making them as noticeable as he could. Maybe that was why Yuta thought it was a good idea to gift such sexual items since it was clear from the get-go that Hendery was legit about keeping you and parading you around rather than just treating you like a one time or even a temporary thing.

However, what was completely new and unexpected was the way Hendery decided to grind his hips down, revealing to you how hard he was against your clothed clit. You let out an involuntary moan. Immediately, you grew embarrassed, trying to close your legs and hide away from him, but Hendery held your thighs open with his hands and he chuckled against your neck.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, hands already playing with the hem of your dress. After you nodded, Hendery leaned back slightly so that you had enough room to make space for pulling the dress up over your head. “Can I…” He stared at your chest. “I…”

It was obvious how Hendery was struggling to ask because he didn’t know where to begin with your bra, so you decided to teach him for future reference by unclasping it with ease then sliding the straps off your shoulders. Hendery looked like he was taking mental notes. Not only of how to undress you properly, but of every inch of your body that you were slowly revealing to him. When your bra fell onto the bed, Hendery’s breath shuddered as he couldn’t hold himself back from reaching out with both hands to play with them, fingers teasing your nipples, palms molding the plushness.

“I feel awkward,” you said, turning to look away from him. “You’re still dressed.”

“Oh. Right— Right, sorry, fuck, sorry.”

Hendery pulled away to start unbuttoning his dress shirt quickly before reaching down to fiddle with his belt. You looked at him again, admiring his abs, and the little bit of prickly hair on his pelvis that was growing in since the last time he shaved. When his belt was loose, Hendery unbuttoned and unzipped his dress pants, then carefully shimmied out of them while keeping his balance between your legs and on the soft texture of the mattress.

He laughed nervously while tossing his shirt to the side. “Better?”

“Much.”

As you reached up to bring him back down to you for a kiss, his hands went to your chest with an obvious stroke of courage overtaking him so that he could knead them for the first time in his life. His palms passed over his nipples, and you moaned suddenly. Hendery swallowed the noises you made with a smile, his hips grinding down again, and now that there was just your panties and his boxers between the two of you, you could feel the weight of his erection and the real size of him finally.

“Give me your hand,” you said between kisses.

Hendery surrendered his left hand to you, allowing you to take his wrist and guide him down to your pussy, letting his fingers catch on to your intentions by pushing your panties to the side. And then he stopped, unsure of what to do.

“Press your fingers here—” Following your instructions, Hendery’s fingers found your clit, making you jolt with pleasure.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, fuck, feels so good. Rub it in circles.”

So he did, slowly, like he was testing the waters, watching to see through your reactions if he was doing it right or wrong. When you moaned his name and kissed him again, he knew that he was succeeding.

He panted into our mouth, “You’re so wet, qīn'ài de.”

“It’s your fault… Teasing me all night.”

He smirked. “What’re you talking about?” His fingers changed direction and applied more pressure.

“Your hand on my leg at dinner…” You squeezed his biceps to cope with the overwhelming pleasure. “And while opening gifts.”

“Two gifts.”

“Still distracting.”

“Like this?” He started flicking your clit faster, working you towards an orgasm. You nodded desperately.

An unexpected grip on his wrist urged Hendery to keep going, but his fingers were slipping, and he was having trouble figuring out if he needed to do something different or keep going the same, and once he lost his momentum, his uncertainty kicked in, leaving you with a fading orgasm. To avoid having him feel ashamed of the fact that he’d been so close to making you orgasm but couldn’t quite get there, you played it smooth by instigating the next step.

“I need you in me.”

Hendery was so blinded with lustful thoughts of what being inside of you would feel like that he didn’t even put the pieces together about why you were insisting all of a sudden. He leapt at the opportunity, his fingers leaving your clit so that he could take off your panties before stripping out of his boxers. Much to your own embarrassment, you stared at his cock, wondering how the Hell he would fit in you… Was he as big and scary as some of the guys in shitty online porn? No. But he was still carrying a good size that was long enough to make you think that maybe he would hit a spot somewhere beneath your belly button, and there was enough girth that you contemplated what the stretch would feel like. Hendery was preoccupied with the condoms that he didn’t notice you staring.

The first step was opening the plastic bag the condom was in, which Hendery did with ease; However, it was the second step of putting the condom on that gave him trouble, his shaky hands having a difficult time figuring out which way it was supposed to go, and how to roll it on. You fell in love with him all over again in that moment. It was a silly thing to prompt the “I love this man with my whole heart” thought, but… Seeing him struggle with it, while completely naked, his body shaking with excitement and a touch of anxiety reminded you that he was human too, and that he was just as in love with you and the idea of being with you as you were with him.

You figured it was in both of your best interests to lend him a helping hand, so you reached out to help him turn the condom the right way and put it on, but Hendery panicked.

“No, wait, wait, wait, I got it—” He fumbled with it again, his hips backing away from you. “If you touch me now, I might cum…” He blushed with embarrassment while you giggled to yourself. Both of you watched as he struggled for another few seconds to calm his shaking enough to get the opening of the condom to latch onto his tip before he rolled it down his length entirely. “Fucking asshole knew which size to get, too,” he whispered under his breath.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Hendery leaned over you again, forcing you flat on your back, your head hitting the pillows. His arms bracketed your shoulders, making you feel pinned and small beneath him… The reality of the situation was becoming all too real. The two of you were naked, in his bed, ready to fuck, and he looked so fucking good— Shit.

“Just, um, tell me if I should do something differently… Okay?”

“Same,” you replied.

Hendery nodded, strands of brown hair falling in front of his eyes while he took his dick in one of his hands so that he could line himself up with your entrance.

“There… Right?”

You giggled. “Yeah.”

He looked even more embarrassed about having to make sure, but that was better than going for it and ending up in the wrong hole unexpectedly. And, besides, you thought it was cute. Slowly, Hendery began sliding inside of you without any warning, looking down at where your bodies met to make sure that he was doing it right and wasn’t fucking anything up. When you winced, however, Hendery hesitated.

“Shit, I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

Hendery hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

You tried to comfort him and simultaneously ease your own nerves by pulling him in for a passionate kiss that he melted into almost immediately. Only his tip was inside of you, but it already stung. More than you expected. The lack of experience with toys or partners meant you couldn’t guess what it would feel like, and the stretch you were contemplating earlier was all too noticeable.

“Okay,” you whispered against his lips.

Another few inches slowly entered you. Instead of wincing like before, you moaned a euphoric sound followed by his name— His real name. He snickered. Whenever you used his real name, it was either when you were extremely pissed off, or extremely in love with him… Sometimes he had a hard time telling the difference. But the way you were clinging to him desperately, inviting him to fill you up more and more, and you were moaning for him, he knew that you were so in love with him that you couldn’t think straight.

Once he was finally settling inside of you as far as he could go, both of you froze, waiting for the other to say or do something. Honestly, you would’ve preferred if Hendery just did it because you didn’t want to psych yourself out, but… He didn’t seem confident enough to make decisions on your behalf.

“You can move,” you told him confidently.

Hendery cautiously obeyed by pulling out about two inches before thrusting forward again. He continued soft, shallow movements for a little bit to not only help you stretch around him, but also to keep him from cumming too fast.

“Is this okay?”

For a moment, you debated giving him the truthful answer or not… But you promised each other that you’d be honest and speak up if something needed to change. After his fumble getting you to an orgasm, you felt like it was about time to say something.

“You can pull out more, and go faster. I won’t break, I promise.”

That was the greenlight he needed to start fucking you in a way that felt more proper, which mirrored what he’d seen in porn and dreamt about every time he thought about what his first time with you would be like. His cock slowly dragged along your velvety walls as he pulled out until his tip was caught on your entrance, then all of a sudden, he thrusted all the way back into you. You dug your fingers into his back. Hendery grunted, moving to hide his face in the crook of your neck while his hips increased speed and roughness with every other thrust. His pathetic grunts mixed with your desperate moans were more lewd than you could’ve imagined. Your body was sensitive to his every touch. Roaming hands, his pelvis hitting your clit, his stomach touching yours, and his cock pumping out of you— That was the best part. It hurt at first, yes, but the longer you endured it, the more pleasurable it became. At one point you wondered if you’d be able to cum just by having him fuck you… One day, perhaps.

“I’m t-t-trying, qīn'ài de, I’m sorry.”

You tugged on his hair to keep him close as you whispered, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

And that was enough to send Hendery over the edge, his whole weight collapsing on top of you as he groaned and finally came. At least you were pretty sure that was what happened. The way his length twitched inside of you and the condom shifted made you think that he was cumming… And his exhausted, hooded eyes seemed to indicate the same… You ran your fingers through his hair gently to comfort him while he came down from his high, his breath slowly returning to a normal pace. The whole thing seemed to be over in the blink of an eye. From the moment he pushed into you to his climax dwindling to an end, it was all said and done, and you felt a bit of whiplash in the moment.

“S-sorry…”

You laughed. “Why?”

“I couldn’t…” He hid his face in the crook of your neck to keep you from seeing his embarrassment. “I couldn’t make you cum.”

You laughed some more. “It’s okay. It was still fun.”

Slowly, Hendery pulled out of you, his gaze turned down to check on the condom before he slowly slid it off and carefully tied it off to keep it from spilling. And then he perked up with a sudden thought.

“Wait here.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as Hendery scrambled off the bed, tossed the condom in the trash, then on wobbly legs he ran out into the living room. You smiled to yourself. How the fuck he still had all that energy after fucking you was a mystery. What shocked you, though, was when he returned, it was with your newly gifted sex toy in hand, his brows furrowed with confusion.

“Is this thing charged? Does it need batteries? How the fuck does it work?”

“Batteries, baby,” you told him.

Hendery hurried over to his gaming desk and took his Xbox controller out to steal the batteries from inside to use in the toy instead. Of course that would be his solution instead of just getting new batteries like a normal person would…

“Why’s this so difficult?” he complained under his breath while struggling to put the batteries in the right way. “Fuck me.” Finally, he got the batteries in. With his knees to support him on the mattress while his hands were busy, Hendery found his place between your thighs again, admiring your slick that drenched the bed and your inner thighs. He gulped. “You’re so fucking pretty, qīn'ài de.” He dared to take a taste for himself. With his tongue spread flat, he licked a long, slow stripe up from your core to your clit, and he chuckled when your back arched off the bed and you tangled your fingers in his hair again. “Taste so good… Fuck…” He bit his lip. Somehow he was already getting hard again, but he tried his best to ignore it in favor of pleasing you. “Let’s see if this thing is worth keeping, yeah?”

You nodded shyly. “Okay…”

Hendery turned the vibrator on and fidgeted with the settings for a moment before he aimed the head of the bulb against your swollen clit. The second it made contact with you, you jolted, hands clinging to the sweaty sheets beneath you. He focused solely on your pussy, trying to figure out the best way to settle the toy on the hood of your clit instead of directly on it, then he discovered moving it around to your wet entrance and back up got a good reaction out of you too. If he left it still for too long, you whined and squirmed. So Hendery made sure to roll it around your clit in various directions and patterns, and before you knew it, one of his fingers was teasing your entrance then slowly pushing into you. Hendery seemed pleased with himself when you moaned his name.

“How do I…” he drifted off when he got too embarrassed to finish his question.

Your reached down with a shaky hand to grab his wrist and slowly began teaching him how to thrust his fingers in and out of you. “C-curl them, too… When you’re all the way in— Fuck, just like that, baby—“

He bit his lip in concentration as his fingers continued to curl when he was in you, then he’d relax so that he could pull out before pushing back in and continuing to search for your g-spot. It took a few tries. By the time he hit it, you were already close, your orgasm sneaking up on you thanks to the vibrator he was rolling over your sensitive nub.

“Don’t stop,” you begged him with a croak, grasping his hand tighter. Hendey’s arm muscles strained under your grasp while maintaining his pace. “I’m cumming!”

Your back arched off the bed, your walls tightened around his fingers, and your clit pulsed against the vibrator he refused to weaken his hold on. His fingers bullied your g-spot to help you ride out your orgasm. Hendery watched you go from moaning pleasantly to squirming under him while whining that it was too much, that you were too sensitive; His cruelty was wavered by your panting.

“That was better. Right?” He turned off the toy and removed his fingers from you.

You nodded, breathless. “Much.”

“You got so tight when you came… Fuck…”

“Imagine what’ll feel like when you’re fucking me.”

Hendery’s eyes glossed over his lust again, his cock jumping with excitement as he leaned in to kiss you. “I love you so fucking much, qīn'ài de.”

“I love you more.”

Birthday sex became an event in and of itself. After that first year, Hendery couldn’t shake the thought of sharing his birthday with you every year for the rest of his life, and as such, he wanted to try new and different things each time. The handcuffs happened in year two— Yuta seemed pleased with himself. He patted Hendery on the back and took credit for helping him lose his virginity to you. Year three had you on your hands and knees, ass up in the air, clawing at the sheets, begging for him to cum inside of you. By year four, Hendery couldn’t stop staring at the engagement ring on your finger while you jerked him off in the living room while your favorite movie played in the background. Some of the boys liked to joke that they didn’t have to get you guys gifts anymore since the “sex fiends” that you were decided date night and birthday sex was enough gifts between the two of you; However, Hendery’s threats still held true when he told all his friends that they still owed you gifts at the very least. Nine months after year six, the two of you celebrated a different birthday, which became Hendery’s favorite thing to celebrate aside from your own shared birthday in September.

#op #hendery #wayv #fanfic #hendery smut #hendery fanfic #wayv fanfic #wayv smut #nct #nct smut #nct fanfic

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2dmax · 8 months ago

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 9 months ago

Text

Tipsy and Turned On

Gibbs X Reader One-Shot

Prompt: You attend an NCIS Ceremony and get a little too tipsy around your boss.

Part 2

Mentions: Drinking

>>>>

You smoothed your tight dress over for the hundredth time in the last 20 minutes as Bishop ran around the little hotel room you two shared, looking for her earrings.

“They were literally on the sink just a second ago,” she cried out, exasperated. You looked at your watch, noting that you only had about 40 minutes before the ceremony started.

“Check by the mini fridge. Maybe you set them down them when you stuffed your face with the bag of peanut m+m’s.”

You checked your makeup in the bathroom mirror and put a thin coat of lipstick on before you heard Bishop’s triumphant squawk.

“Got em!”

Walking out, you saw her putting the earrings in while munching on something which you assumed was the m+m’s she was finishing. A loud obnoxious knock sounded at the door before it opened a second afterwards and Tony walked in.

“What the hell DiNozzo? You don’t just walk into our room like that. We could’ve been naked!”

“Darn, should have knocked 30 minutes ago,” he teased, making you roll your eyes.

“Are you guys ready? The ceremony starts in like a half an hour,” you heard McGee’s voice announce from the hallway. At least he had the decency to stay outside.

“Oh relax McFidget. It’s literally 3 floors beneath us. We’ve got plenty of time to grab a drink and meet some newly promoted probies.”

You spritzed a little perfume, grabbed your clutch, and walked out of the room, making sure to smack Tony on the way out. Abby and Palmer were already down in the lobby when you guys stepped off the elevator.

“Oh my gosh, your dresses are so beautiful!” she gushed while running over in her Doc Martens.

You returned Abby’s excited hug and smiled anxiously, which she caught onto.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. The entirety of NCIS is here. Including SecNav.”

“Well let’s get you a drink then. Soften those nerves.”

The boys went to find your assigned table while you Abby and Bishop went over to the bar, each ordering a cocktail. After a couple long sips, you took a breath and tried relaxing. Crowds were never a problem for you as long as they didn’t include a bunch of higher ranking officials and their bosses walking around. You scanned the massive dining hall and spotted Vance conversing with some other man in a suit you assumed was important but wasn’t expecting to see the third individual in the conversation as well.

“Since when did Gibbs come to NCIS ceremonies?” you asked, as Abby and Bishop turned to look.

“Oh, I heard Vance is forcing him to be here since we’re suppose to be receiving an award,” Bishop explained.

So that’s why he looking exceptionally handsome in his full black and navy suit. He even wore a tie. The man definitely cleaned up well and you actually had a hard time taking your eyes off of him.

Ever since you started working with the team, you had been…intrigued by Gibbs but it never got past the point of checking him out a few times or shooting some harmless cheesy flirts that everyone would just roll their eyes at. He never gave any indication of being intrigued as well, let alone attracted to you in the time that you’ve known him.

“Alright. One shot and let’s go join the others,” you heard Abby say.

You turned to her and saw her sliding over two shot glasses for you and Bishop. Now that Bishop just told you that you were going to have to get up on stage, you needed a shot more than ever.

“Abby, you’re a mind reader.”

She just winked and clinked your glass before throwing the shot back. You and Bishop followed suit, both grimacing from the liquid flames pouring down your throats and followed her towards your reserved table.

“Looks like you 3 found the bar just fine,” Tony pointed out as you took a seat.

“Don’t you have some naive agent to be bugging?” you retorted. He smiled and gave a nod to some young woman across the way, proving your point.

“Actually, she’s a file clerk and I’ll be right back.”

He left the table in the direction of the blonde haired woman as you all shook our heads and laughed. A few minutes later you saw Gibbs walk over.

“Didn’t think you were coming Gibbs. You don’t usually like these types of events,” McGee pointed out as he took Tony’s spot beside you. Instinctively, you took a long sip of your drink.

“Vance wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

As if on cue, the lights dimmed and the SecNav walked onto the little stage area holding a microphone.

“Thank you all for attending our little get together. We have a few announcements and presentations so let’s get started. Firstly, let’s honor those that we’ve lost in our battle for justice. Agent Simmons….

We all listened quietly, occasionally nodding or clapping for different reasons but the thought of having to get up on stage soon was driving you crazy. You hadn’t even known your leg was shaking under the table until I you felt a warm hand still your movements. Looking over, Gibbs gave you a small reassuring nod calming and exciting you at the same time.

His hand had left but the warmth was still there, leaving your skin with goosebumps.

“So these awards go to Special Agent Gibbs and his dedicated team, if they could make their way over,” Vance’s voice spoke too quickly. Part of you just moved in autopilot, getting up and following behind Gibbs with the rest of the team following behind in a line. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, judging you.

Luckily, the little bit of alcohol you had was kicking in, dulling the sense of anxiety but you knew you looked at your hands, they’d be shaking.

On stage, Vance adorned your necks with medals and shook everyone’s hands before dismissing you. It was simple and quick and you would’ve ran off the stage at top speed had you remembered how to act at such formal events.

>>>>

The hardest part was over and now was time to relax, as you sat on the floor of your hotel room, doing your 3rd shot with Bishop and Abby.

McGee had left early with Delilah and who knows what pants DiNozzo got himself in but you, Abby and Bishop were having the time of your lives.

“You should try it, you never know, you might enjoy it,” Abby suggested from the couch.

“I’m not sleeping in a coffin Abbs! I’m already claustrophobic!”

“You know what you should do. Pretend to get lost in the hotel and end up at Gibbs’s door.”

Both Abby’s and my mouth dropped open at Bishop’s comment and she laughed. She was the only one I told about my slight attraction to our boss and now Abby knew too.

“Bishop, I can’t believe you said that! I thought we had a secret together!”

“Oh don’t worry Y/N. I knew something was going with you and Gibbs wayy before Bishop told me anything.”

“What?! There’s nothing going on! And Bishop shouldn’t have said shit.”

They both laughed at the horror in your face and you prepared yourself another shot.

“You should do it though. I overheard heard him talking with Ducky about you. He didn’t say it exactly but he thinks you’re interesting. And for Gibbs to say that, that isn’t normal.”

“But I don’t even know what room is his.”

“202. Right down the hall,” Abby stated, already ready for your excuse.

“No one is saying go in there and force him to have sex with you. Just go and see what he does. If he escorts you back to your room, maybe he’s not interested. But if he invites you in..”

“What about Rule 13?”

“You know how many times we’ve broken that rule? It’s almost funny that we still have it. Come on, hurry before your buzz goes away and you chicken out.”

The both of them practically pulled you up and dragged you over to the door.

“Here are your shoes,” Bishop said, putting my heels in my hand and pushing me out.

“Wait, you guys can’t just kick me out of my own hotel room-

Your statement was cut short as they shut the door in your face, both could be heard giggling on the other side. Looking down at the heels in your hand, you decided against putting them on for fear you would faceplant if you tried walking in them and slowly made your way down the hall.

198, 200, 201..

You stood in front of 202, seriously wondering why you befriended those two. Well, it was now or never you thought as you knocked softly 3 times. A few seconds went by, you swaying slightly as the tequila did its job before the door opened up.

You were genuinely surprised at seeing Gibbs answer the door in nothing but a white tee and boxer briefs, you almost forgot the line you had planned.

“Oh. Is this not my room? I could’ve swore it was..” you probably slurred at him.

“Do you normally knock on your own door Agent L/N?”

Shit. He knew. Maybe. Maybe not.

“Do you know what time it is Y/N?”

You made a move as if to look at your watch, which you didn’t have and heard him sigh.

“It’s 2 in the morning. Have you been at the bar all night?”

Holy shit, it was that late? You were for sure going to have the worst headache the next morning.

“Yes.” Your answer was short, but your tone was almost a question. You don’t know what you were saying anymore, you honestly forgot what he asked you.

“Can I come in?” You blurted, hoping he wouldn’t turn you down. He rubbed his face in exasperation and opened the door wider for you to step in. Holy shit. Holy shit. You did not think you were gonna get this far.

You stepped into his room, noticing that all of his lights were still on and the tv played softly.

“Have you been up all this time too?” you asked, setting your heels down on the little loveseat.

“Just going over the case.” He closed the door and walked over into the bathroom. You looked around, seeing the case file spread across the little desk and the queen bed beside that looked untouched.

You weren’t sure what to do now. You do know that this tight dress you’ve been wearing for hours was starting to become very uncomfortable and this plan was looking dumber and dumber by the second.

Gibbs came back out of the bathroom and grabbed a water from the mini fridge before offering it to you along with some pills you assumed were aspirin. “Drink.”

You listened obediently and gave the bottle back to him, the both of you staring into each others the entire time. Then for whatever reason, you walked over to his bed and plopped down on it, practically moaning at how nice it was.

You almost fell asleep right then and there but then felt something drop onto you. Opening your eyes and looking down, you saw a pair of sweats and a faded USMC shirt lying on the bed.

“You’re not gonna escort me back to my room?” you asked him curiously.

“Do you remember your room number?”

You thought about it before answering honestly.

“No.”

“Then I can’t escort you back to your room. Go change.”

Whether it was the liquor that made you do it or just something deep down inside that gave you the courage, you got up from the bed and pulled your dress zipper down your back, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and letting the dress fall to the floor.

Turning around, you brought your eyes to meet his and watched his icy blue ones stare right back. “What are you doing Agent L/N?”

“I don’t know.”

You took a couple steps closer to him, the cool air making you shiver slightly and just stood there. He didn’t move an inch but you watched him slowly look over you, his mouth moving to slowly lick his lips, sparking something in you.

Taking a chance, you put your arms around his neck and brought your body close to his, noticing how his hands immediately found your hips and his head dipped to meet yours in a deep kiss.

It was better than you ever imagined and between his mouth moving against yours, his hands gripping your skin tighter and the way he pulled you in closer was giving you enough endorphins to pass out.

When you both pulled away for a breath, you smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Oh really?” His voice was husky and lower than usual, making you close your eyes.

He nuzzled your neck and wrapped his arms around your torso but made no attempt to bring you to bed.

“As much as I’d like to continue this further, I want it to be on a different occasion,” he spoke in your ear, kissing just below and releasing his grip on you.

Bringing your arms back down, you looked away and stepped back. He was quick to pull your chin back up to look at him.

“What about dinner at my place tomorrow?”

You just nodded and he gave a small smile, leaning down to kiss you again, making your head spin.

“You change. I’m going to take a shower,” he said, pulling back and heading into the bathroom.

You took a huge breath, letting out all the tension and multitude of emotions. You changed into the clothes and just sat on the edge of bed, absent mindedly watching whatever movie was playing.

A few minutes went by and you felt your eyes getting heavy, the alcohol and everything that happened in the day suddenly making you very tired. Knowing you weren’t going anywhere, you crawled across the bed and slipped under the covers.

“Y/N. Wake up.”

You opened your eyes to see Gibbs sitting on the bed beside you, now dressed in sweats and the same t-shirt but his hair was wet from the shower so you couldn’t have been asleep for longer than 20 minutes.

“Chug this, then you can go to sleep,” he said, handing you a small bottle of water. You smiled at his kindness and sat up. As you drank, he turned all the lights off, only the tv illuminating the room and joined you under the covers. You placed the now empty bottle on the bedside and scooted a little closer to his warm body. You weren’t sure how much intimacy to give but you were perfectly content when he moved his arm so that it rested under your head and pulled you closer.

You thought about how the nights progression went on and decided you’d actually have to thank Bishop and Abby.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis fanfiction #agent gibbs

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 2 years ago

Text

Comparing you to their Ex-Girlfriend

Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem! Reader; Suna Rintaro x Fem! Reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: Angst to Comfort, the boys are MAJOR DICKS, swearing, alcoholism in Kuroos’, Kenma and Osamu taking their shots 😌, in Suna’s reader falls asleep in her car and it obviously looks weird but she’s just sleeping!

A/N: just me, being self-indulgent again 💅 I’m working on trying to improve my descriptive skills and I figured I’d share my attempts

Kuroo

You and Tetsuro had a great relationship. You had both worked hard to establish trust after your previously failed attempts at love. No relationship was perfect and you definitely had your fair share of troubles, often finding yourself disagreeing with your boyfriend over random things. You both had strong opinions and that was ok, you respected each other and made your relationship work.

Both you and Tetsuro worked long hours at your jobs. He was the sports promoter for Japan’s men’s volleyball and you worked hard in your chosen profession. While you had worked hard to establish a distinction between your home and work life, sometimes your boyfriend found it difficult.

He was always working, always scheming up new ways to bring awareness to the sport. His newest venture had been centered on creating an All Stars match featuring some of Japan’s finest players from all around the world.

You loved Tetsuro with your entire heart but you couldn’t help but feel second in his world at times. You understood how important it was to him and how hard he worked but you still struggled with sharing your boyfriend especially when he was at home.

You had been excited for the weekend, having planned an extravagant date for your and Tetsuro’s two year anniversary. He was coming home at 5 pm to shower and get ready, your reservations were set for 7pm at the cities hottest new restaurant. Your mutual friend, Kenma, had helped hook you up with reservations that were extremely hard to come by.

Everything was planned out perfectly, your outfit, makeup and hair were flawless. You had even splurged on a special lingerie set just for tonight. When 5pm rolled around and Tetsuro hadn’t showed up, you messaged him. You figured his meeting had run a little late but you weren’t too concerned. However, when 5:30 then 6 followed by 6:30 and 7 came you became extremely concerned. You hard called him a dozen times, text him well over that, concerned something serious might have happened.

At 7:45pm, the door finally opened as you shot up from your seat on the couch. You watched as your boyfriend strolled in, tie lose and looking exhausted. He set his briefcase down, before taking his shoes off and looking at you.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late today was ridiculous! What’s for dinner? I’m starving,” he said, removing his tie and walking into your shared bedroom. You stared at him, completely flabbergasted by how he was acting. Had he really forgotten? This had to be some sick joke.

“Tetsuro,” you said as he hummed a response and walked out into the living room.

“Wow babe you look incredible! Did you have a work meeting today?” He said making his way to the kitchen, “are we ordering our tonight? I hope it’s from that dumpling place we got last week!”

You continued to stare at him, your eyes practically drying out from not blinking, “Tetsuro did you forget we were going out tonight?”

He stopped, turning and sighing, “YN I’m so sorry- my boss came into town and he wanted to see how the developments were coming along, I completely spaced it.”

“And you completely spaced answering your phone or at least letting me know you’d be late? I was worried sick Tetsuro!” You shouted, angry not only because your plans were ruined but because he didn’t even think to let you know about what was going on.

“YN it’s not that big of a deal, we can go out to that place anytime. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he responded as he came closer, extending his arms as you backed away.

“No Tetsuro, you always promise me and you never deliver. I’ve been flexible, I’ve been accommodating because I know you love your job but it seems that I need to be volleyball shaped in order to get any attention!” You shouted as he narrowed his gaze on you.

“YN don’t you think you’re overreacting? You said it yourself, you how important this is to me,” he said as you stood there, mouth agape.

“Tetsuro, I’m asking for you to be a boyfriend to me, to give me a little time and affection and you think I’m over exaggerating?” You yell. You were so mad and you had every right to be. You stood there, staring at him as he shook his head and began to mumble, “speak up Tetsuro! I know you have something you want to say!”

“I never had this problem when I was with Ally! She knew how important my work was and she never bothered me like you do!” He spat out as you reeled back. How could he bring her up? How could he stoop so low as to bring up the one person who had made you fell inferior.

Ally was Tetsuro’s ex girlfriend and his first love. She had broken up with him right after college when she decided to move abroad. When you met him, he was heartbroken and you slowly worked to help mend what she had wrecked and now he had the audacity to bring her up?

You turned, grabbing your keys and your phone and began walking towards the door. You slipped on your heels, opening the door and leaving Tetsuro standing in the kitchen, absolutely stunned at what he had said. He hadn’t thought about her in so long, why did her memory come flooding back in that moment?

He heard the door close as his breath hitched, realizing you had left. “Fuck- FUCK!” He shouted as he quickly grabbed his keys and ran after you, only to find your car gone. He paced in your parking spot, hand pulling at his hair as the words sank in.

Meanwhile, you drove, mascara running freely down your cheeks as you sobbed and pulled up to an apartment building. Getting out, you walked up the stairs and hit the buzzer.

“Hello?” A voice answered

“K-Kenma, it’s Yn! Can I come up please?!?” You cried as the door buzzed and you ran into the building, Kenma meeting you at his door. You fling yourself into his embrace as he rubbed your back.

“YN are you ok? Is Kuroo ok? What happened?!?” Kenma said, panicked as you pulled away.

“He-he was late coming home and we were suppose to go out for dinner for our anniversary. When he came home, he completely forgot about our plans, saying some bullshit about his boss coming or something,” you blubbered out, “and when I confronted him, he got defensive and then- then he said how Ally would have never bothered him about his work!”

You cried harder as Kenma sighed and hugged you close. Kenma knew all about Ally and how she had broken Kuroo. He knew how much he had loved her and how broken he was when she left. He had spent many late nights up with his friend, talking him down from flying across the world for a girl who didn’t want to be with him or picking his friend up, wasted at the bar and puking because of the pain he felt.

However, all of that changed when Kuroo met you. You made him happy again, you made him smile and laugh more than anyone else ever had. Kenma remembers how the memory of Kuroo’s former love faded, and how it was replaced with the love for you. He knew Kuroo loved you more than life itself, but he couldn’t deny how stupid his friend had been.

“Come on in Yn, let’s talk ok?” Kenma said as you nodded and the door behind you closed.

Kuroo sat in your apartment, eyes red with tears as he cried. How could he do something so awful, say something so unforgivable to you? He thought back to before he met you and how he knew his relationship with Ally was ending. He thought about how she pulled away, saying “I love you” less and less until she finally told him she was leaving and wanted to end the relationship. He was so broken, so pained from the experience of losing his first love.

He drank to numb the pain, sometimes staying late at his office and passing out with a whiskey in his hands. He thought he’d never be able to find someone again. Then, like an Angel, you appeared at his office door. You were so beautiful, so incredibly perfect. It was like God himself had placed you there. You helped him pull himself out from the drinking, from the self-loathing into loving himself again. It was because of you that he had become so successful at work, your support always spurring him on.

He rested his head on his hands, looking at his phone as his background lit up from a notification. The picture was of you two on the night he had confessed his love to you. You were both so happy, your smile filling the screen.

He stood up, grabbing his shoes and slipping them on, his keys and phone going to his pocket. He knew exactly where you went, where you always went, where he would go.

It was late when his car pulled up behind yours, relieved he had been right and that you were safe. He ran up the stairs, ringing the buzzer to his friends apartment.

“Come one come on- hello?!?” He said as the button beeped and he swung the door open. Kenma greeted him in the hallway, standing guard at the door with a scowl on his face.

“You’re an idiot,” he said

“I know-”

“Literally the scum of the earth!” Kenma growled

“I know-”

“I should call Bokuto to come kick your ass!” Kenma whisper shouted

“And I’d deserve it,” Kuroo said as he looked at his friend, “I fucked up- I royally fucked up dude and I hate myself. I hate myself for hurting her and I know I don’t deserve her but she deserves to know how sorry I am.”

“Be quiet when you go inside, she’s sleeping,” Kenma said, moving out of the way as Kuroo walked in. He saw you curled up, asleep on the couch as he quietly approached you. Your face was stained with tears, indicating how badly his words stung. He sat down, next to the couch and watched you as Kenma watched from the corner. He gently grazed you face, moving your hair from it.

“YN, baby,” he said as you gently woke up, your eyes softly meet his teary ones, “baby I fucked to so bad and I’m so sorry. I know I hurt you and I know I don’t deserve you. You’ve made my life worth living and I love you so much. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me and I’ll gladly leave the apartment for a while but please, just know how incredibly sorry I am. I’m not going to make any excuses for what I did or said. I shouldn’t have forgotten about your anniversary and I shouldn’t have said such awful things. I’m a terrible boyfriend and you are so fucking incredible. You’ve supported me in everything and I ruined it all.”

You laid there, your eyes tearing up as you listened to him. As much as his words stung, knowing how awful he felt for saying them and what he had done hurt worse. You sat up, reaching for his cheek as you caressed it.

“Tetsu, I love you more than anything and it really hurt me when you said those things. I really try to let you do your job because I know how important it is but I also miss you. I miss seeing you and spending time with you and I just wanted us to have a nice night,” you said, tears flowing as he looked at you.

“I know baby, and I’m so sorry for everything! I promise, no more working late. If I can’t get it done by 5pm, I’ll leave it for the next day. I want to be there for you YN,” he said as you smiled.

“That’s all I ask Tetsuro.”

Suna

You had known Rintarō a while before you started dating the middle blocker. You had always been attracted to him and when he finally asked you out, you were ecstatic.

Your relationship was good and solid. You had your fair share of ups and downs but what relationship didn’t? You and Rin argued occasionally about minor things, sometimes going to bed angry but then eventually sorting out your issue over the next few days. No fight had ever been serious enough to warrant more than the silent treatment for, at max, a day.

Being the girlfriend of a middle blocker for a professional volleyball team was not only exhausting but also time consuming. You always went to Rin’s games, traveling a few hours if you had to just to show your support and while he never explicitly told you, you knew he appreciated it.

Thankfully, his most recent game was at home against a revival team. Rin did exceptional, per the usual, with EJP beating the opposing team in straight sets. You cheered as the men all lined up to thank their fans, as you quickly hurried to the court.

The usual flood of fan girls overran the team as you tried to make your way to your boyfriend. “Hey YN! Thanks for coming out! Rin’s over there,” Washio, Rin’s fellow middle blocker, said as you hugged him and made your way over to your boyfriend.

You smiled and waved as he nodded at you, the girls surrounding him as he tried his best to calm them. “Ladies please,” he said as you stood back, waiting patiently. He would usually come over to you, giving you a kiss and hugging you in front of everyone. You had never been insecure about your relationship, especially knowing Rin was a superstar because he always made time for you.

However, as he continued to smile and sign autographs, you stood there waiting and waiting and waiting. Soon, twenty minutes had passed and Rin hadn’t come up to even acknowledge your existence. You figured he was just excited, this was a big game after all and he definitely deserved to celebrate but when he headed to the locker room, not even acknowledging your existence, that you deflated.

He had never ignored you for this long or failed to acknowledge your presence. You sighed, waiting for him to emerge from the locker room. When he finally did, you wait again as he talked with Komori, the teams Libero. In fact, it wasn’t until Komori waved at you, that Rin finally seemed to acknowledge you were waiting.

“Oh hey babe, I’ll meet you at home ok? Im going out with the guys for dinner!” He said before waving at you and rushing from the gym. You stood there, hands clasped as you nodded, trying hard not to let your emotions take over. Your turned on your heels, heading to your car and going home to your empty apartment.

When Rin finally came home, it was almost 11pm. You sat up, from on the couch as he entered and removed his shoes. “Man I’m beat! Im going to head to bed babe,” he said, kissing the top of your head as you stared at him. He had barely acknowledged you at all tonight and all you wanted to do was celebrate with him.

Since you and Rin had always had an open relationship, you decided that it was best to express your concerns to him. Maybe he just needed to be reminded that you were there to support him.

“Hey Rin, uhh you didn’t hug me or kiss me tonight after the game,” you said, standing in the doorway of the bedroom as he took his shirt off, throwing it beside the laundry basket.

“Yeah sorry I was busy. It was kind of a big night ya know?” he chuckled as he went to your en suite, grabbing his face wash and continuing about his routine.

“It- it just kind of hurt you know? You always kiss me after a game,” you said, playing with your fingers as you looked into the bathroom mirror. You saw him roll his eyes as he shook his hands, grabbing a towel to dry them.

“Geez Yn it was one time for fucks sakes, please tell me you aren’t going to make a big deal out of this and ruin what WAS a good night?” He said, walking out of the bathroom and past you to the bed.

“Rin, I’m not trying to ruin your night, it’s just that, well I’m feeling a little unappreciated I guess,” You said as he looked at you, confusion growing on his face.

“Seriously Yn? You really want to do this now? Im exhausted and I’m not in the mood,” he began to shout as you whinced, not wanting to start anything but knowing what you had to say was important.

“Rin I-”

“You know, Jenna never acted this way after I won a game. I’d come home and she’d let me be!” He spat as you stood frozen. You couldn’t be he had brought her up, of all the people, why her? You felt your body heat up, your emotions overtaking you as you watched Rin get into bed and turn the light off.

How could he have said that? How could he have possibly brought his past girlfriend up? You knew about Rin and Jenna, how they had mutually broken up a few months before you met him. He didn’t seem to hold any animosity towards her but he never talked much about her and certainly he’d never brought her up during a fight.

Slowly backing out of your shared room, you closed the door as your eyes filled with tears. Not only had he utterly tore you down but he brought up someone from his past, something he knew would hurt you.

You mindlessly walked to the kitchen, grabbing your keys and purse before turning off the lights and silently leaving your apartment. You headed to your car, sitting in the drivers seat as the emotions finally hit. You let it all out, whaling as the tears fell in waves. You couldn’t scream, you couldn’t make any noise, everything was caught in your throat as you tried but failed to let it out. Finally, managing a breath, your body shuttered as you screamed, your head resting on your steering wheel as you continued to cry.

Rin tossed and turned in bed, his body exhausted but he couldn’t sleep. He had instantly regretted what he said about his ex, mentally berating himself for ever saying anything. He thought about what you said, about how you felt. He hadn’t meant to ignore you, he had just gotten caught up in all the excitement of winning. He felt like a complete ass, letting you walk out after he had said such awful things.

He noticed the light in the living room was dim, figuring you had just fallen asleep on the couch. He’ll admit this wasn’t the first time you two had slept apart due to a fight but this time he knew it was all his fault. Truthfully, he hated being without you, he hated sleeping alone. He loved how cuddly and soft you were next to him. He loved the feeling of your body and how your love for him poured into everything you did.

He knew how lucky he was, you came to every game, even to the ones that were several hours away. Hell once your even flown to Europe to see him play in an international match. He knew what true love was and how he had failed to show you that.

Looking at the clock, he saw it was 3:00am. He sat up, throwing the covers off as he stood in just his shorts and walked to the door. His plan was to grab you from the couch, hold you and apologize. He would make it up to you tomorrow, taking you out on a fabulous date to show his appreciation for everything you did for him.

He flipped on the hall light, walking out to the living room. He looked to the couch, noticing it was empty. Confused, he turned and headed to the spare bedroom, knowing fully well you never slept in there because “it was only for guests.”

He threw the light on, his eyes widening when you weren’t in there. “YN!” He shouted as he ran back to your shared bedroom, turning the light on and running to the bathroom. There was no sigh of you as he ran to the living room, turning on every light he could.

His hands went to his hair as he frantically raked through it, worried about where you might be. He ran to the kitchen and the guest bathroom, noting no trace of you.

“YN- shit!” He shouted as he turned, noticing your purse and shoes were gone.

“FUCK!”

He raced back to the bedroom, grabbing his phone before hitting your number, “pick up, come on baby pick up!” He packed back and forth, your phone continuing to ring until it finally hit voicemail.

“Fuck!” he shouted, pulling up the only other person he could think as he sat on the edge of his bed and raked through his hair, his knee bouncing as he waited for an answer.

“Hello?” A groggy voice answered.

“Samu! It’s Rin, have you heard from YN?” He spat out

“What? What fucking time is it?” Osamu said as he groaned, “dude it’s 3am! Why the hell would I have heard from YN? She’s your girlfriend!”

“I fucked up Samu, I fucked so bad man and now she’s fucking gone! She’s never left before man, fuck what do I do?!?” Suna panicked as tears began to fill his eyes. You two had fought before but you had never left, in fact you’d never leave without telling him where you’d go.

“What happened?” Osamu said, sounding more awake than before, his voice carrying as he made his way to the kitchen.

“I- I shit man! She was upset because I didn’t kiss her after the game and when she brought it up to me, I brought up how Jenna would never act that way,” he sighed, his head hanging low at the words resurfacing. He thought of what he said making him sick. He never loved Jenna, in fact, his relationship with her was one of convenience. It wasn’t until he met you that he learned what being in a partnership was really like. How it felt to have someone supporting you and being there when you needed them.

“Damn Rin, what the fuck man? Dude that’s low!” Osamu said as Rin nodded his head

“I know I fucking know! She’s gone dude, and she’s not answering her phone! What if something happened to her? Fuck I’ll never be able to live with myself!” He cried as Osamu sighed.

“Ok listen, I’m sure YN is fine. She’s a smart girl. She’s really upset right now and I don’t blame her. You need to give her some breathing space man,” he said as Rin stood up, pacing once more.

“I can’t- I can’t I have to find her! Fuck man I can’t lose her she’s it for me, she’s the one!” He shouted, tears now overflowing.

“Ok, come over and we can regroup here. I’ll try calling her, maybe she’ll answer for me,” he said as Rin quickly threw on his shoes and grabbed his keys, locking the door before running to the elevator.

“I’ll be there in 5,” he said, hanging up as he raced to his car. In the parking garage he noticed your car was still parked next to his, making his heart drop. His worst fears were coming true. You’d never leave without your car, there was no way!

Approaching the spot, he noticed a figure slumped over the steering wheel. His eyes widened, adrenaline racing as he realized that it was you.

“Fuck FUCK!” He screamed as he ran to your door, throwing it open as you shot up, heart pounding as you met the eyes of your boyfriend.

“Rin what-”

No more words escaped as you were tackled in your seat by your giant boyfriend, his cries penetrating the vehicle as he hugged you tight.

“Fuck baby are you ok?? God I’m so fucking sorry! Im the biggest idiot ever to exist and I should have never said any of those things!” He cried as you embraced him, memories slowly coming back to you.

“Rin, where’s your shirt?” You asked as he looked at you, shaking his head and looking down at his shirtless form.

“I couldn’t sleep. I felt like the biggest ass ever and I went to apologize to you. I couldn’t find you and I panicked. I was so afraid you had left me for good Yn. I know I would have deserved it but I don’t think I’ve been so scared in all my life baby!” He said, pulling you close in the awkward space.

You rubbed his back, feeling bad for causing him so much worry. “I’m sorry for leaving but I had to get out, what you said really hurt me,” you said as he looked in your eyes, his heart crushed that he had caused all of this.

“Baby don’t apologize! This is all my fault! I should have never treated you like that. I love you so much and I took advantage of everything you do. I’m sorry for ever saying those things to you. You are the most important person in my entire life and I love you more than you’ll ever know. I know I don’t show you and I’m going to change that baby, I promise!” He said as you caressed his cheek.

“I forgive you Rin,” you said with a small smile as his lips collided with yours as he pulled you close.

“I love you so fucking much Yn!” He said, putting his forehead to yours.

“I love you too Rintaro.”

2K notes · View notes

deputyrook · 1 year ago

Text

The Assistant - Lou Bloom x Reader. Horrror/Romance

This is an old fic re-upload. I'm just going to post all four parts in one. Anyway, this is one of the few old fics I'm still quite proud of, so please enjoy (or enjoy again!)

Lou Bloom (Nightcrawler) x female reader (she/her).

WORD COUNT: 11,258

Warnings: Stalking, voyeurism, gaslighting, coercion, emotional manipulation, creepy behaviour.

“This is a very exciting opportunity. One that you’re not going to want to pass up. Now, I don’t know that you’re ready to take on this role, but I believe that when you give someone responsibility, they have the opportunity to rise to the occasion and excel. I believe that you have that ability. Which is why I am taking a chance on you, and promoting you to the role of my personal assistant.”

Lou watches your expression with the intensity of a vulture watching its next meal. He wants to see how you react to the offer. You’ve only been his intern for two and a half weeks, but he knows that one way or another, you’ll agree to the change in position.

He’ll make sure of it, because he has different plans for you now.

Your head tilts curiously, but you smile at him, close-lipped and cautious.

“It’s an honour,” you reply, and he can feel himself nodding in agreement with you.

You smell differently from Nina, but he likes it. Nina wears perfume, and sometimes a bit too much of it. Your scent is of clean skin and strawberry scented shampoo, light and natural.

Nina still sleeps with Lou, but she doesn’t comply easily. She disobeys him, and rolls her eyes when he gives her instructions in bed. She is a beautiful woman- particularly in how sharp she is, how vicious in her work- but he can’t control her, and what they have isn’t a relationship, not really, not like it should be.

You’re different. You’re careful and quiet and you take notes when he speaks to you. You listen to him, and you follow orders well and without fuss. You don’t seem to mind doing what he instructs you to, even when he tells you to drive faster, or do things other interns might find... questionable.

And you’re young, and you’re pretty.

When he realizes that he wants to have you, Lou does two things. First, he breaks up with Nina.

“Are you fucking with me?” Nina asks him, her eyes narrowing. They’re sitting at dinner, and it’s so similar a situation to when Lou first proposed a sexual relationship with her.

“The simple truth is that I have outgrown this relationship. In this world people’s needs change. I have more needs now, ones which you are not capable of meeting. As such, I am terminating our relationship immediately.” Lou takes a sip of his water.

Nina’s lips purse, as though she thinks it’s a trick. Lou can imagine the way the gears are turning in her mind.

“But you’ll continue to work with me on a professional basis... right?” She confirms apprehensively. “You’re our leading stringer, your work is-”

“Artistry. I’m aware,” She looks unsure, and Lou likes that. It will be a shame, not having her around when he wants her anymore, but he doubts he’ll ultimately miss it much. “As long as you continue to pay me at the rate you currently are. I know that KWLA 6 is now the most popular news network on morning television and I also know that the name of my business is starting to become known. Now, I’ll keep supplying you with the footage, but you should understand that I have no loyalty to your company, or to you personally.”

Nina’s expression settles into a frown. “You’re breaking off our- so that you don’t feel any guilt about just selling to the highest bidder?”

Sometimes, Lou thinks that maybe Nina comes close to understanding him. This is not one of those times.

“No,” He answers, with a chuckle to himself, “But I don’t need to sleep with you anymore, and I won’t have our arrangement limiting my or my company’s potential for growth.”

The second thing Lou does is install cameras in your apartment when he knows that you’re not home.

He has your address from the paperwork he made you and the other two interns fill out when you first started working for him, but he’s never been to your apartment before. A quick message sent to you asking you to pick up his dry cleaning, conveniently across the city from your place, and he has you out of the way.

Lou breaks into your home with ease. The main door to the building is unlocked, and with a twist of his lockpick and a satisfying click, so is the door to your apartment. Bag slung over his shoulder, he slips into the place, careful to shut the door quietly behind him. Turning on the light, he looks around the room with an intrusive interest.

The place is small, just as small as his old place had been, before he’d moved. It’s neatly decorated, and it smells like you, and Lou digs his nails into the palm of his hand as he scans the main room. You have a bookshelf- he quickly notes your favourite author- and several small plants, but the apartment is scarcely decorated and plain. No photos of a boyfriend, he notes. Good, that would just be another obstacle to remove. It’s tempting to leave you a message using your fridge magnets, but Lou resists the urge and continues in.

A cat trods out from the bedroom, meowing at Lou. For a moment he freezes, staring at the animal, standing still as it brushes happily against his shin with a purr. He hesitates. Reaching down, Lou slowly brushes his fingers against the cat’s head, before withdrawing his hand and stepping delicately around the pet.

As much as he’d like to stay and search through your belongings, he has a job to do.

He’s leaving the apartment when he gets a text from you letting him know that you’ve picked up his clothes, and want to know where to drop them off. Checking his watch, Lou sends you a reply with his address before he gets into his car and drives home.

Lou is creating a file in his mind and filling it with notes about you. She has a cat. She likes to read. She has quite a few DVDs, with many of them being horror movies. It all factors into the way he’ll achieve his goal of luring you in, and Lou intends to do it the right way.

---

“Hi there,” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s past nine PM now, and even though it’s certainly after hours, Lou knew you wouldn’t complain. And here you are, standing on his doorstep, holding his dry cleaning in hand. You’re even wearing a bit of makeup, he notices.

You must be as lonely as he is.

“Hello,” He replies, “I’m glad you’re taking this aspect of being my personal assistant in stride. In order to get ahead as a new employee, it’s important to go above and beyond the duties of the position.”

You nod, shifting from one foot to the other. Lou smiles.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks, and you hesitate. Lou waits, staring, until you acquiesce with another nod.

“Okay, maybe just for a few minutes. Then I should really get home.”

He takes the dry cleaning from you and leads you inside of his apartment, a nice one-bedroom he’d recently moved into where he has a larger television and marble countertops and more space for him to review footage. Besides the computer desk, and the place where his camcorder is hooked up, the apartment is filled with empty space.

Not much makes Lou’s heart quicken, but his mouth goes dry at the sight of you, alone in his apartment. He controls this space, possesses it, and here you are, a part of it- just as it should be. Lou feels a pleasant stir in his stomach at the way you glance around the room with your eyes wide.

He considers, for a moment, pushing you against the wall and pinning you there, to see how you’d react. He wonders idly if you’d scream, before he turns and hangs up the dry cleaning in the closet.

“Wow, this place is- it’s so like you,” You say, looking back to him. “It’s nice. No pets?”

“No,” He answers plainly, staring at you, “Not yet.”

It’s easy to imagine how you’ll slot into his life. He’s already picturing where in his apartment he’ll put your bookshelf.

“We should spend more time together,” He says to you, standing in his living room and facing you. “Outside of work. I’d like to see you here more often.”

“Oh,” you reply. Your eyes glance at him, and then the door, darting nervously. “You would?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Lou answers, taking a step closer to you. “I have wine. Red and white, for if I have company over. But you prefer red, don’t you? I can get you a glass.”

You shake your head then, making for the door. “Um, I... really should really be going. It’s getting late, and I drove here, so I can’t be drinking anyway.”

Lou pauses, looking at you for a very long moment. Then, he nods his head one, a knowing smile breaking across his face.

“Of course. Smart. It’s dangerous out there, you know. You’re a pretty young woman. And there are a lot of terrible men out there who might take advantage of that. You should get home.” He never takes his eyes off of you, not as he watches you smile softly, wave goodbye awkwardly, and scamper back out of the door.

The second you leave, Lou goes to his computer.

It takes about twenty minutes before the camera feed shows you enter your apartment. He set up two cameras, one in your living room, and one in your bedroom. He doesn’t need to spy on you in the bathroom or shower- that’s not the point of this invasion.

You throw your coat on the hanger and your purse on the counter, and you pick up your cat and spin him around in your arms- it’s adorable. Lou watches, rapt in attention as you set the cat down and roll your shoulders. He can see you sigh, even though the feed is silent, and you look tired.

He watches as you strip off your clothes, performing for no one as you root around for clean pajamas. Lou didn’t set up the cameras for sexual gratification- he wants to know exactly what you like, and see who you are when you think you’re alone- but it’s hard to deny that he feels pleasure knowing that he’s with you even when you don’t know it.

It’s hard to deny that there’s a thrill to the knowledge that he’s going to take everything that’s yours and make it his. Just like everything else, all it will take is some planning, a meticulous execution, and the will to make it happen.

And it would.

---

The first gift that Lou buys for you is a new coffee maker.

The one you have, he’s noticed, is horribly outdated and slow to brew. Through the cameras he’s watched you look longingly at new models on Amazon, always browsing, never purchasing. You’ve saved at least five to your wishlist, but you always exit out of the pages without placing an order. After studying the footage, Lou comes to the conclusion that you can’t decide which one to buy.

So he decides for you. Lou purchases an expensive model, a coffee maker even better than the ones you’ve been dreaming of, and has it express delivered to your door.

Lou is so glad when you don’t open the package outside, but instead carry it into your living room with a confused look on your face. Your mouth is twisted into a near pout, and your brow furrows as you turn over the box. When you grab a knife and open it up, Lou can’t help but smile at the shock that registers on your face at its contents.

You pull apart the box like it’s Christmas, gingerly taking out the new coffee maker and setting it on the counter. You stare at it for a long moment, incredulous, before noticing the note, just a thin slip of paper at the bottom of the box.

He can’t read it from the camera feed streaming from your apartment, but Lou knows what it says.

“Make the choices you want, and pursue them. LB.”

With Nina, everything he needed to know about her he could find online. With you, he needs to improvise, and pay attention. He’d googled you, of course, with few results besides an Instagram and Linkedin page. It’s only been a few days since he installed the cameras, but he’s already felt like he’s learned so much.

Things... hadn’t gone how he’d wanted with Nina. He’d wanted a relationship, someone to share a life with. He’d gotten little more than friends with benefits, and a reluctant one at that. Maybe this time, he would just have to be clearer with what he wanted from you, and be a little bit more patient.

You hold the paper up to your mouth, hiding, and he finds it difficult to read your expression. But maybe it’s just what he wants to see, but he thinks that you look pleased.

---

“Lou... I don’t know what to say about the coffee maker,” You tell him later that night. The two of you are sitting in the front of his car, parked on the side of the street. It’s been a slow night, and the police scanner crackles in the background, every so often announcing a DUI or petty theft. His other employee, Mikhael, sits in the back of the car on his laptop, editing footage, his headphones over his ears.

You’re sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning against the wheel.

“Say thank you,” He replies, smiling at you. You bite your lip, and grin at him. You’ve been using his name a lot more casually since you’ve been promoted, and Lou likes that.

“Fine. Thank you,” you answer. You seem to mull over your next words, the smile dropping from your face in contemplation before you speak. You seem apprehensive to broach the subject, but you continue. “But... how did you know I needed a new coffee maker?”

“You told me. Don’t you remember?” Lou says, feigning confusion and leaning in closer to you. “You told me that you couldn’t decide which one to get.”

Lou can almost see your thought process. He loves the way you consider his words, quietly to yourself, and he can tell that he’s convincing you, even when you know deep down that you never said a thing about it. You’re a clever girl, but so easily swayed.

“I... don’t remember,” You admit to him, so honest. “I was so surprised. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I like you.” This is romantic, Lou thinks to himself, like a scene from a film. “And now, whenever you make coffee in the morning, you’ll think of me.” He smiles in a way he thinks is pleasant, and he sees you look him over, half-unsure, half-appreciative.

“You know,” he continues, “I learned recently that people don’t really become addicted to caffeine. They develop a dependence on it, which isn’t the same thing. Caffeine is only actually slightly addictive as an actual substance. The symptoms of withdrawal are physically very mild, and drinking a lot of coffee rarely results in self-destructive behaviour. Instead, you become used to the presence of caffeine in your life. You come to take it by habit, and because you enjoy the positive benefits, including increased alertness and wakefulness. It’s the mental dependence on caffeine, the reliance on it being there to pick you up that creates the believe that caffeine is addictive.”

You listen to him, nodding along with his words. He finishes, “The dependence is far more psychological than physical. But it’s interesting. How people develop dependence on things like coffee. How they feel like they need it to even function, day-to-day. How they feel like they can’t live without it.”

You should be leaning in to share his space right about now. Or telling him how you will think of him, every morning when you make coffee. When you bring the mug to your lips and close your eyes, breathing in the smell of it, when you take that first drink and yawn. You should be flushing at the thought of it, but instead, you’re looking at your hands, fidgeting.

“Yeah. That is interesting, I didn’t know that,” You comment, and the silence that follows is thick and awkward, the only sound in the car the dull chatter on the police scanner. In the back, Mikhael clears his throat, and when Lou turns back to address him, his eyes dart from you to Lou.

“What is it?” Lou asks sharply. Mikhael points to the police scanner, one headphone on.

“2-6-7, suspect is a white male, approximately 6’2”, may be armed,” The voice on the scanner says. “10-524. Proceed with caution.”

Lou nods to you, and he doesn’t have to say a word. You turn the key in the ignition and his car roars to life. With a shift of the gear and your foot on the gas, you tear off down the street, speeding toward the destination. Lou readies his camera while he calls your coworker, his third and final employee, to come with the production van and meet you at the scene with all of his equipment.

You drive steady, careful as you pull out onto the highway. Lou checks his watch.

“We need to go faster. I doubt we’ll arrive before the police but if there’s a chance, we want to take it. At the very least, I want to see a body tonight.”

You comply, pressing the pedal down and accelerating. Your focus on the task, and your complete willingness to trust him and follow him into a dangerous situation is nearly distracting for him.

“Faster,” he tells you, even though you’re already going 10 miles over the speed limit. Part of him wants to make it to the location before the police arrive, or certainly earlier than any other news crew. But part of him wants to push you to drive faster, drive more dangerously, just to see if you will.

You barely spare him a glance as you accelerate even faster, switching lanes back and forth to pass cars in your way. In the back seat of the car, Mikhael curses under his breath as you fly past a car that honks loudly.

“We’re going to fast, we’re going to get pulled over-” He says anxiously.

“Not if all the cops are busy going to the same place we are. Left, make the next left,” Lou tells you, and you barely have time to put on your blinker before you’re sliding around the corner. From the back, Mikhael groans. Lou’s camera is ready with blank tape, and he passes the microphone to Mikhael in the back for him to carry out. It’s only another three miles before you reach your destination.

“Are we ready?” Lou asks the two of you. Mikhael nods, and you smile.

When you pull into the street where the home in question is located- a beautiful suburban house in the outskirts of the city- it’s before a cop car has arrived. As you throw the gear into park, you turn to him, beaming, breathless and proud, and he can tell you’re looking to hear you did well.

But now isn’t the time. Lou is already throwing open the door of the car and rushing to the scene, Mikhael close behind him. You stay behind, to run interference on the cops, who are just rounding the corner of the street.

He hopes you’ll be able to distract the cop for long enough that he can sneak around the back of the house.

---

“We did well tonight,” Lou says, looking to each of his three employees in turn. The four of you are together in the small office space he rents, each with a drink in hand. It’s been less than two hours since you arrived at the scene of the assault, and only half an hour since he left victorious, footage of a screaming argument and a bloody stab wound saved safely on the memory card.

Sitting in a circle of cheap folding chairs, he feels pride in himself, in this company of professionals he’s built. You’re quickly rising to be the video company with the most-used footage in all of central LA, and it won’t be long before the names Video Production News and Louis Bloom become famous in the wider news industry. “The footage we got is going to garner us a top spot tomorrow on a prime news network.”

“Which one?” Eve, his equipment manager, asks with an enthused look on her face.

“Whichever one pays the highest,” Lou answers. He points to you. “The two of us will stay late to edit the footage, and submit proposals to the top five news networks with the highest viewer counts. It’s time we started branching out from KWLA-6 and considering other options.”

You nod to him, and he feels the satisfaction of a job well done wash over him.

“I appreciate the dedication each one of you has to Video Production News. With your continued dedication and willingness to follow my business plan, we will continue to achieve success in the Los Angeles news industry.”

He always hopes that everyone will stay longer than they do, when the team goes out for drinks. It would help everyone grow closer if they were to spend time together outside of work, but first Mikhael excuses himself, and then Eve follows, both citing pets they need to feed and partners they need to return to. This time, though, you can’t excuse yourself to go home to your cat- you’ve already agreed to stay late and help him.

And when Eve and Mikhael leave, the two of you are alone again, and that suits him fine.

“You look pretty tonight,” He tells you, even though your hair is messy and you’re sweating from the lack of air conditioning in the office. “But you shouldn’t wear bright colours any more. I prefer you in dark ones. They suit you more, and compliment you better.” Lou smiles to you, like he’s shared highly valuable information with you and you should be thankful.

“Oh,” You reply, clearly surprised. You look down at your dress, and when you look back up, he notices that you look a little self conscious.

“Can you try to do that for me?” He asks. You hesitate, and then nod.

“I-I guess I can, yeah,” You say, cheeks colouring. And there’s that blush he’s been hoping to see. Lou remembers, suddenly, the way you’d looked at him on arrival at the scene of the crime, eager for praise.

“You did well tonight. I like that you drive faster when I tell you to,” Lou stares hungrily at the way your cheeks flush deeper. He can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or ashamed or aroused. “That you follow my instructions is one of the reasons I promoted you to my assistant.” He looks at your glass, nearly empty now, and refills it with wine. You take a nervous gulp.

“I used to sleep with the morning news director at KWLA-6,” Lou says, deadpan, and you choke on your drink.

“You did?” You ask, apparently too curious or stunned to keep your thoughts to yourself, “Were you- did she, um-”

“She came often,” Lou lies. “I was led to believe it was very pleasurable for us both. She was very attracted to me.”

“That wasn’t going to be my question, Lou,” you reply, a light laugh in your tone, “I was going to ask if she ended things, or if you did.”

“Oh. I did,” He answers seriously, “I took some time to evaluate my wants and needs, as well as what would be best for my company. I know it was difficult for her, but it was necessary to do.”

The air between the two of you is tense, heavy with a weight between you and you study him with interest as you ask, “Was it hard for you?”

Lou is thrown for a moment.

“I admired her, and I was looking for certain things when we started seeing each other.” Lou thinks about how honest he wants to be with you. He always finds it difficult to voice aloud his desire for company, or to address his loneliness. “What I’m looking for is someone who can be a partner to me, but also someone who listens to what I tell them. I want a relationship with someone that suits my needs. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” You answer, looking at your glass. You swirl the wine around in it. “I know what it’s like. To really want a relationship to be one thing, and have it end up as another.”

“It wasn’t hard for me. That’s the answer to your question. I want something else now,” He looks at you pointedly, just shy of telling you that he wants you. But he doesn’t have enough information about you yet- doesn’t feel as though he’s in an advantageous enough position to get what he wants.

Lou wants your back to be up against the wall before he makes his intentions abundantly clear. Figuratively, and perhaps literally. It’s difficult for him to avoid being direct with his desires, but being honest wouldn’t be the path to victory, not at this point.

No, he has to court you. Teach you to need him, too. Maybe this could even be considered your first date.

You’re blushing again, and you look down and away from him, clearing your throat. You set aside your glass of wine, and point to the computer. “We should, ah. We should work on editing. We have a lot to get done tonight if we want to make the morning news.”

Lou checks his watch. It’s a quarter past twelve in the morning.

“You’re right,” He says, and the two of you get to work.

---

The story hits with as much of a splash as Lou expected, and not on KWLA. Channel 11 News breaks the story, airing his footage and mentioning the name Video Production News before they do, and they pay 30% more than KWLA had offered.

Sitting in his apartment and feeling content, Lou watches your camera feed as he irons his clothes. You’re doing your hair and putting on your makeup in the bathroom, and you choose another light coloured dress to wear- though to be fair to you, you didn’t exactly know that he was watching.

He’s thinking about the effort you put into your appearance when he sees you step up to answer your front door. You look so put together and beautiful today. As though you’re preparing for a date with him, though you would wear black for that, not white. Lou can just imagine how easily he would pull the dress off of you, mess up that perfectly assembled look of yours, the way he’s grab a fistful of your hair and -

Wait. Wait. Who is that stepping in through the door?

A man, tall and fairly handsome, steps into your apartment, and he kisses you. Lou’s blood turns cold at the sight, and he stares, iron hot in his hand.

This is a problem.

---

So, here’s the thing.

The guy you’re seeing? He’s no good for you, Lou knows.

He’s sitting on a park bench with his sunglasses on, watching the people pass by with a detached interest. Lou sips his soda with a straw, keeping an eye out for you and the man you’ll be passing by him with. The afternoon sun is beating down, but the bench he sits on it partially shaded by a tree, and he’s glad for it since he hasn’t moved in about forty-five minutes.

It’s given him time to think, and to plan out his next move.

When he’d seen the man on the surveillance footage kissing you, Lou slowly set down his iron and unplugged it. He set aside his laundry, and pulled his hair up into a neat bun. Grabbing his laptop, one of his books and his keys, Lou left his apartment without another moment of hesitation or thought.

Lou drove to your neighbourhood, parking two blocks away and walking the rest of the distance to your apartment building. In the back parking lot, there were two cars parked in the visitor’s spots. Taking quick photos of the two license plates, Lou walked to a nearby coffee shop, and, making sure you and the stranger were not also there, set up his laptop to run the plates.

It didn’t take long before Lou was able to find out the name of your mysterious visitor. His name is Andrew Price, and he lives in a city about an hour and a half’s drive away from Los Angeles, which explains why Lou has never seen him before. His employment was listed as a freelance journalist, and scouring the internet for more information, Lou found a profile on a networking website where he listed his relationship status as single.

Not a boyfriend, then. Or he’s a cheater. Both give Lou a bit of hope.

When Lou checked the man’s instagram, he noticed Price had just posted a scenic photo several minutes prior, one that Lou could identify as being from a nearby park. There are no pictures of you on Price’s instagram either, he noticed.

Packing up his laptop, Lou went to sit by the entrance of the park. Now he’s waiting on the bench, a book that he isn’t reading in his hands, as he watches for you and this man to pass him.

A freelance journalist ? And not even a very successful one it looks like, at that. Why would you kiss a man like that? Someone who doesn’t even appreciate you enough to show you off as his to the world, who doesn’t even consider himself to be in a relationship with you?

Surely, that’s not what you really want. Surely, this man isn’t fulfilling your needs. Lou settles on believing that your loneliness has driven you to this stranger, and that it’s only because no better options had presented themselves.

But still, Lou doesn’t want to take any chances. He knows that the execution of a meticulous plan is the best path to success, and you’re too important for him to try a simple, straightforward approach. So much could go wrong, so easily.

He needs the upper hand, and he’s slowly starting to figure out how to get it.

In the news industry, framing is everything. It’s easy to make the audience believe whatever story that the network wants to push, or rework an angle to a narrative that sells better. It’s a manipulation, yes, and in some ways, a lie- but it’s a skill, and one Lou has been working on developing. It’s what the audience sees and the way that they see it that informs their views. And those views colour the way every story following is received.

And it’ll be the same with you.

Lou is in such deep thought about how he’s going to get you into this arms that he doesn’t even notice you until you call out to him.

“Lou? Is that you?” His head shoots up, and he stares, roused from his thoughts and nearly startled, despite the fact that he had been waiting for you. You look at him quizzically, with Price standing at your side, confused.

“Oh. What a surprise,” Lou smiles, and feigns surprise. His smile is nearly real when he thinks about how you called out to him. Chuckling lightly, he continues, “Looks like even on our days off we just can’t stay away from each other.”

Price’s eyebrows crinkle at Lou’s words, and you beckon him to follow as you approach. You seem genuinely happy to see him, and the sight of it knocks the wind out of Lou.

“Andrew, this is my boss, Louis Bloom. Lou, this is my, ah, friend, Andrew Price. He’s a journalist. You guys might have a lot to talk about.” You laugh gently, and Price sticks out a hand, stepping forward to shake. Lou looks at the outstretched hand, making no move to take it. After a moment of tension, Price retracts his hand, wiping it on his jeans.

“Must be a germ freak, huh?” He says, trying to keep the tone light. Price tilts his head to you. “She’s mentioned you. Says you’re a genius. I’d love to pick your brain some time, if you want to chat.”

A genius, Lou thinks, and he can feel his shoulders straighten at the praise.

“That would be interesting,” Lou deadpans, “Are you two on a date?”

Andrew laughs, and Lou catches a flash of something flicker across your face. Upset? Anger? Bitterness? Lou can’t quite place it, but it feels strangely familiar to him, like a reflection of the same darkness which lives inside of him, and it leaves him thrown. He wants to see more of it, whatever was.

But just as soon as he catches a glimpse of it, it’s gone, and you roll your eyes.

“Us? Date? We’d be terrible,” Price says, and you nod with his words, smiling half-heartedly.

“We should get going. Andrew’s only in town for a few more days,” You say. Something in you looks sad, and Lou is rocked by a violent, feral impulse to tear this man apart. He seems none the wiser.

Lou blinks, and forces away the impulse to smile.

“I’ll see you, then,” he says, and you smile to him as you wave goodbye.

That night, you and Price have sex in the living room. On the couch, not in your bed, and Lou hates how this man pleasures you in a way that is clearly satisfying for you. But he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen, transfixed as you shed your clothes and help undress him. He watches, trying to memorize the way you react to what Price does, what seems to get the best reaction, so that when it’s him touching you, he can impress you with how good he’s able to make you feel.

He watches, chin in his hand, and then-

And then, you seem to look up, right at the camera as you come undone.

Lou follows soon after.

And afterward, he watches as you get up and go to the kitchen by yourself to make coffee, decaf. You stare at the coffee maker, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and then close your eyes, and Lou knows that you must be thinking of him.

---

Price is, as you had said, only in town for a few more days, so Lou’s window of opportunity is only open a hair’s width. With that said, he’s always felt like his best work has been done under pressure, and by Monday evening, he’s gotten everything in place.

First, he calls Price, using the phone number so helpfully supplied on his networking profile.

“Hello. This is Louis Bloom, we met the other day. We have a mutual friend,” Lou says when Price picks up the phone.

“Who?” Price asks, and then he says your name. “You’re her boss, right? Why are you calling me?”

“It’s important for you to come to my office right now. I need to talk to you about her,” Lou says. “Do you know the address? I found something out, and it concerns you. I want to speak to you about it in person.”

There’s a long pause, and Lou thinks for a moment that Price may not take the bait. But then, his curiosity- whatever it is in him that drove him to be a journalist- wins out.

“Yeah, alright. Can you give me the address? I’ll head over now.” Looking at the clock, Lou sees that it’s a quarter past six in the afternoon. Perfect.

And then, one text, Lou sends to you.

[Please pick up some new film for me and meet me at my office at 7pm. I look forward to seeing you tonight. Wear your navy blue dress - LB]

---

“Alright. You’ve got my attention. What is it that’s so important?”

Andrew Price walks into the small office space, shoulders straight and confident. He’s a fairly clean cut, attractive man, but he doesn’t love you, and Lou knows it. Hands shoved in his pockets, and a frown on his face, Price strides across the room to stand in front of Lou.

Lou sits at his desk, his cell phone in his hand.

“I know you’re sleeping with her,” Lou says calmly, “You don’t have to pretend you aren’t, I know that you are.”

Price scoffs, and looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And what if I am? You’re not her boyfriend, man. Just because you have a creepy little crush and you’re her boss doesn’t mean you get to control her. She can sleep with whoever the fuck she wants.” Scowling, Price shakes his head. “I knew it. She defended you, but I knew you were into her.”

“You’re right. I am,” Lou answers easily. Then he smiles. “And you mean that I’m not her boyfriend yet.”

Price leans across the desk, pushing himself into Lou’s personal space. He looks equally parts disgusted and unnerved, and Lou holds his thumb just over the call button on his phone, waiting for the perfect moment. He glances at the clock.

“I thought I was going to get some information coming here, but you know what? I think I’m going to leave here with some information to give.” Price leans away. “Is that all?”

“No,” Lou answers, and he hits call.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end asks as Price stares in bewilderment.

“There’s a man, he’s broken into my office- I- I think he wants to hurt me- this is Lou Bloom calling from 113 Main Street West, I’m very afraid for my safety-” Lou makes the panic in his voice real, waits for a second, and then starts to scream, deep and guttural from his chest. He shoves some heavy filming equipment off of his desk and then ends the call with a tap of his finger.

A moment of silence stretches between the two men. Quietly, Lou gathers his will.

“What the fuck-” Price starts, but he’s cut off as Lou slams his own face into his desk.

His nose gives a sickening crunch, and blood splatters out from it across the desk. Lou gasps at the sharp pain blooming across his face, fairly certain he’s successfully broken his own nose- and he knows what a broken nose feels like. Price watches in horror, taking a step back as Lou slams his face back into the desk a second time, this time knocking his tooth through his upper lip.

Blood is gushing from his nose, more than Lou expected, and it’s staining down the front of his shirt as he straightens. Quickly and definitively, Lou grips the collar of his shirt and rips it open. He takes two steps toward Price, who backs away from him.

“You’re fucking insane,” Price says, holding his hand up as if to tell Lou to stop coming closer. As if it would stop him. Grabbing his wrist and yanking the man forward, Lou smears some of his own blood from under his nose across Price’s knuckles.

It’s almost too easy. Lou looks at Price, standing and watching in shock, and then at the clock. He takes two measured steps backward, kicks the desk chair over, and slumps down against one of his cabinets.

He sits there for nearly two minutes, panting and waiting for the blood to stop flowing. Price seems to not know if he should leave or stay, and stares wide-eyed at Lou, and then at his hand, and then around the room.

He’s realizing just now, Lou thinks, what this will look like when the cops show up. But more importantly, how it will look when-

You enter through the door, wearing a navy blue dress, your bag slung over your shoulder. You freeze, and take in the scene, looking from Lou to Price. Your eyes are wide, horrified, and it seems that you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

“Oh, god,” Lou moans, “You need to leave, please, he went crazy-”

At the same time, Andrew starts to talk, his hands held out in front of himself again as he equivocates and tries to explain and excuse what you’re seeing.

“This isn’t what it looks like- this guy, he’s insane, he- I didn’t-” Price’s voice breaks, and he’s at a complete loss for what to say or do as you drop your bag and rush to Lou’s side.

“Oh my god. Oh my god? Lou? Lou, fuck, you’re bleeding,” You say, real panic in your voice as you kneel beside him and gently touch his face. Lou meets your gaze, and you’re close, you’re so close to him, and you smell so wonderful, and you wore the blue dress.

“Get out of here,” He says quickly to you, looking you in the eye. “And wait for the police to arrive. You need to be safe.”

Andrew Price sputters from the corner, and laughs a manic, shocked peel of laughter.

“You can’t honestly believe him, can you?” He asks, gesturing to Lou.

But you don’t get a chance to answer, because that’s when the police burst through the doorway, yelling, guns drawn.

A news story is all about framing. How a story looks to its audience is the most important thing in how they will receive it. And once that first image, that initial impression has formed in the audience’s mind, it can be incredibly difficult to change.

There are no security cameras running in Lou’s office, or at least not any that were running that night. When the police see the blood smeared across Price’s knuckles, it doesn’t matter that they aren’t swollen or bruised from hitting him. They arrest him on the spot, and you never leave his side throughout the entire process, not once.

Lou never thought he himself would become a story featured on the morning news, but he’s an adaptable man. Sitting upright in his hospital bed the next morning, his nose bandaged, his lip swollen, and one of his eye blackened, Lou watches the story play on the morning news.

Terrible camera work. Amateurs must have shot this, he thinks, as a shaky camera pans across his office, zooming in on his blood on the floor. There’s a shot of you at his side, escorting him to the back of the ambulance. He looks a mess: his hair is in his face, and his cheek already beginning to swell. But you’ve got your hand on his arm, and you look so concerned and scared for him that it makes his heart swell.

“Whoever filmed us didn’t do a very good job, did they?” You whisper, quietly latching the door behind you. In the second bed in the room, an elderly woman sleeps, and Lou notes your consideration as you lightly walk across the room to his bedside.

“No. If we had been filming, we would have gotten a much better shot of the office. If you film it through the window, you’d get a clear view of the camera and the blood on the ground,” Lou answers, annoyed. I couldn’t have set it up any better, he thinks, wincing as pain shoots through his face when he speaks.

Sitting beside him, Lou can see that you’ve changed clothes since last night, into a dark shirt and a pair of jeans- his blood must be all over the dress, Lou realizes. You lean in close to him, clearly still worried. For the first time in weeks, Lou wasn’t able to watch you go to bed. He wonders if you slept poorly.

“You okay?” You murmur, a hand touching his shoulder lightly. You look solemn and disturbed as you continue, “I can’t believe... I never would have thought Andrew would do something like that.”

Lou reaches up to brush the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear the way that you do when you’re nervous. “I was shocked too. He flew into a rage, talking about how he knew that I had feelings for you and saying that he wouldn’t let me near you.” Lou tells you this calmly, voice even and monotone as he recites the story he’s rehearsed in his head. “He knew that I wanted to be with you, and he attacked me. He broke my nose, and as you can see, did a good deal of damage otherwise.” Lou smiles to you, watching your eyes flick over your face.

“Do you?” You ask quietly, searching his expression.

“Do I what?”

“Want to be with me?” You reach out and take his hand softly in yours, and Lou feels triumph burning in his chest. He won’t even have to make the first move. It’s perfect.

“Yes,” he answers readily, “I like many things about you. The way that you listen to me, the way you wear your hair, the way that you smell. I like how attentive you are. I like that you always sit close to me,” Lou takes a breath, and notes the strange, almost alien feeling of nerves. “I’ve thought about kissing you a lot.”

“Just kissing?” You reply cheekily. You’re leaning in even closer, squeezing his hand.

“No,” Lou breathes, “Much more than kissing.”

“But we can start there,” You finish, before you close the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

You kiss so softly, so hesitatingly, and at first Lou matches your pace. He loves how unsure you seem to be, the way your lips press so lightly and chastely against his. He reciprocates, gently initially, but his patience quickly wanes and he deepens the kiss. Lou moves his lips more insistently against yours, kissing with more fervor.

Reaching up, he cups your face in both of his hands to hold you in place, and he continues to kiss you hungrily. You gasp for air between the kisses, and he nearly feels dizzy from his own lack of oxygen as he continues to press small, quick kisses against your lips, ignoring the ache spreading across his face. Every time you go to pull away, he kisses you again, not wanting to let you leave his grasp.

He wants to keep kissing you. He thinks that he wants to keep kissing you forever.

---

When you finally walk out of the hospital room, your heart hammering. Your face is flushed, and you make it halfway down the hallway before a grin spreads slowly across your face.

That wonderful, magnificent bastard, You think to yourself. That terrible genius. Look at what he’s done to get me.

You hadn’t even had to break things off with Andrew yourself.

Lou finally had you, but then again, you'd had him in your sights for a while.

Game, set, match.

---

You know about the cameras.

Of course you know about the cameras.

You’d noticed one shortly after Lou had sent the coffee maker to your house, small and hidden in the corner of your bookshelf. You’d suspected that he had feelings for you as soon as you were promoted, but the gift had been what cemented his intentions in your mind, and had first triggered your suspicion that he was watching you.

Searching through your apartment without making it look like you were looking for the cameras had been a bit tricky. You pretended to be cleaning, not wanting Lou to catch on that you suspected him. For a while, before you found the proof you were looking for, you had thought you were just becoming paranoid. Finally catching sight of the small black box with the pinhole-sized lenses had been equal parts a shock and a relief.

Lou is many things. He is vicious, he is ruthless, he is intent and will and a shameless drive toward achievement. But he is not exactly subtle.

You drum your fingers along the smooth wooden surface of Lou’s desk in the Video Production News office, and take a sip of your coffee. While Lou took several days off following his discharge from the hospital (a rarity for him) you had volunteered to put the office back in order. You’d successfully cleaned and rearranged the space, and now you were busy picking up the slack editing footage packages for the networks.

This leaves you in the office with Mikhael, who sits across the room skimming through police reports on his laptop. Although your eyes are on your computer screen, your mind is elsewhere, mulling over Lou and what had happened between him and Andrew.

You weren’t sure exactly sure what had gone down, but you doubted Andrew had attacked Lou out of jealousy over you. The taste of bitterness wells in your mouth, as thick and bitter as bile as you remember how long you pined after Andrew, and how badly you’d wanted him to be more than a friend with benefits. He’d never been interested in you romantically, so the thought of him flying into a rage over you seemed unlikely.

Not that you’d told the police that.

After all, Lou’s ruthlessness and willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed is part of what draws you to him, and what attracted you to him in the first place. You’ve never seen such ceaseless ambition and motivation in someone before, and certainly not directed toward you.

Maybe you should have been horrified instead of flattered when you noticed a small camera in your apartment, eye-level and stuck to the bottom of a shelf. Maybe you should be irate instead of thrilled when Lou tells you what to wear, or plainly tells you what he likes about you and what he wants you to change.

But you aren’t.

Lou is a predator, closing in on you with hunger in his eyes. But you’re no prey, and you’re just fine with getting backed up into a corner. You’re being maneuvered, but you’re right where you want to be.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

[Let’s go for dinner tonight. -LB]

You smile down at your phone, and wait a moment before you type out your reply.

[I’d like that. Is it a date?]

You wonder if you should tell him you know what happened with Andrew, or ask him how his injuries are. He answers your text almost immediately.

[Yes. -LB]

---

“Halibut are nocturnal animals. Did you know that? I was watching a documentary on nocturnal creatures earlier today. Animals that are nocturnal, rather than diurnal like most mammals, have a number of specific adaptations which allow them to better track and hunt and survive through the night, such as silent flight, heightened senses, and echolocation. Their circadian rhythms are also slightly shorter than diurnal animals.”

You take another bite of your fish, and nod to signify that you’re listening to Lou.

He smiles, and looks proud of himself, seemingly excited to share the information he’s learned. You really don’t care about the circadian rhythms of nocturnal animals, but he’s actually pretty cute like this- at least you think so, though you imagine other people might find his monotone, quickly-spoken monologues off-putting.

The restaurant you’re in in small but private, and the two of you sit in a booth toward the back of the room that provides ample seclusion from the other customers. Lou has a meal in front of him that he’s barely touched, instead choosing to focus his attention almost singularly on you. It makes you feel like you’re an ant under a magnifying glass. His stare burns you, in more ways than one.

His nose, though no longer bandaged, is still heavily bruised and broken, and his left eye shines black and purple. Even as battered as he is, Lou has clearly put effort into his appearance tonight. His hair is slicked back, and he wears a nicely pressed dress shirt and blazer. Across from him, you wear a dark red dress.

“We’re out a lot after dark. Do you sleep through most of the day after a night of work?” You ask him in between bites of your dinner.

“No. I sleep very little,” he replies, before he pauses, and then continues. “You strike me as the kind of person who falls asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. And then, the kind who sleeps very deeply. Am I right?”

You feign surprise, and your stomach flips pleasantly as you imagine him watching you in bed. “Yes. You’re exactly right, Lou. How’d you know?”

Lou surveys you seriously. You can never predict what he’s going to say next, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s about to admit to you that he broke into your apartment. Instead, he leans in close, and speaks in a low voice, like he’s sharing a secret.

“I know this because I pay attention to you. I’ve told you that there are a number of things that I like about you, and I know you don’t need me to repeat myself. I think you and I are a good fit, both professionally and personally. You’re my employee, so we keep the same work schedules. You spend a lot of time with me already. We both live alone currently, and our lifestyles suit each other. Neither of us go out partying much, or drink excessively, and we both like to read. Think about it. I can provide enough income to support both of us, and if we live together, we can save money by commuting together. Also, I enjoy your company, and am very sexually attracted to you. The fact that you kissed me the other day implies you feel the same way. Am I wrong?”

You take a moment to digest Lou’s words, cheeks colouring at his boldness. “No, you’re not.” You pause. “You’ve really thought all this out? That you want a relationship with me?”

“Of course,” Lou answers. “It’s clear you would compliment me very well.”

“Half a week ago you were attacked by my ex... er, ex-friend because he wanted to keep you away from me. Now you want to be my boyfriend. You move pretty fast,” You reply glibly, with a smile.

Lou doesn’t smile back. “Why shouldn’t I? We both know what we want. Do you have any questions, or do you agree?”

You think for a moment. Lou is pressing forward without quarter, leaving so little room for argument. He leans forward, head slightly tilted, gaze vicious.

“A couple,” you say, “Are you allergic to cats?”

Lou leans back, shakes his head, and smiles. “No. And I like that you’re thinking ahead. Foresight is important in any relationship.”

You swirl your wine around your glass, and avoid Lou’s relentless eye contact. “About that. How serious are you about this?”

Lou looks confused. “How serious? I wouldn’t be proposing a relationship if I wasn’t serious about wanting it.”

It’s your turn to press. “You want it now, sure. But you’re not going to dump me in a few months if someone else who catches your eye comes along?”

Blinking once, deliberately, Lou shakes his head. “No. I’m rarely interested in people.” He pauses, and breaks the eye contact with you, and you sense a raw, blatant truthfulness in his words. “And it’s even rarer that I like them as much as I like you. I want... to relate to people. I want to have relationships and friendships. But most of the time I find it’s impossible. People end up being shallow, and petty, and wrong.” The bitterness in his words is clear. “They don’t listen to me, and they always inevitably make things... complicated.”

He seems lost, for a moment. You take his hands in yours gently, and smooth your thumb across his knuckles.

“I understand,” You murmur. “In a way. Relationships come easy to me. Getting people to like me, to trust me. But connecting on a deeper level... isn’t so easy.”

Lou’s attention snaps back to you, and he watches you like a vulture closing in on its dying prey.

“You’re going to be my girlfriend,” he implores, an unspoken threat lining his tone, the kind which you couldn’t even put words to if you tried. “Aren’t you?”

You nod. “I just have one question left.”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to take me home tonight, Louis Bloom?”

---

Louis does take you home. On the cab ride back to his apartment, his hand never once leaves the small of your back, as though he feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll vanish. He’s quiet for nearly the entire ride, as if he’s mapping out the night ahead in his mind, trying to anticipate how the evening will go so he has total control.

Silly Lou. If he wants total control, you’ll simply give it to him. He doesn’t need to work so hard for it.

Closing and locking the door behind you, Lou takes off his shoes and sets them aside, and throws his keys onto his counter. Now late in the evening, the lights from the city outside shine in from Lou’s uncovered window, and the room is silent, save for the sound of cars speeding by his apartment. Even with the room barely lit, you can see Lou watching you, and feel the way his focus sharpens and becomes carnivorous.

Your heart begins to hammer as alarm bells go off in your mind. Every instinct you have tells you that Lou is a threat, and it makes you feel absolutely wicked.

He walks across the room in slow, stiff strides, keeping his eyes on you. He stops in front of you.

“Take of your clothes.” He says, then walking past you, across the room. Lou picks up a camera from his computer desk, and turns back to you. “You can set them down on the couch. When you’re finished, follow me into the bedroom.” With those words, he disappears from your sight, heading into a room that you’ve never seen before, but you assume is the bedroom.

Quickly, you follow his instructions. You’re so nervous you feel nearly ill, and though you’d imagined many times how an evening with Lou would go, you didn’t expect this. Folding your clothes neatly as you disrobe, you feel bare and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t before. It was one thing to know Lou was watching you when you were naked through a camera. It was another to strip down in his home.

You walk lightly into the bedroom, stopping as you pass the threshold of the door. Lou stands at the end of the bed, his camera in his hands, watching. Moving swiftly, he snaps a photo of you as you stand there, feeling more than a little shy. You blink in surprise at the flash, and swallow your nerves.

“Good,” He says. His eyes rake over your body. “You’re perfect. Lay down on the bed.”

“Okay,” You reply breathlessly.

You’re pretty sure your entire body is blushing. Gingerly, you crawl up onto Lou’s bed, and lay back on top of his smooth, navy blue sheets. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch him raise the camera again.

“Spread your legs,” He orders, “I want to see you.”

Shivering, you let your legs fall open, glancing off to the side as he snaps his second photo. His stare is too intense- you’ve never felt more naked in your life. Looking back to him, you can tell how aroused he is at a glance, and it’s pleasing to know that he’s more affected by you than his expression would let on.

Lowering the camera, Lou walks around to the side of the bed. He takes your wrist carefully in his grasp, and moves your arm so that it is placed over your head. When he lets go, you keep it there, and Lou smiles wistfully at you, a pleasant hum of approval escaping his throat.

“You look worried,” He notes, “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You answer truthfully.

“Open your mouth slightly and look at the camera.” You do as he demands, and he snaps his third picture. With that, he lowers the camera and places it on the bedside table, seemingly satisfied.

Hastily, Lou crawls over you, onto the bed. Hovering over you he looks down at you for a long minute, his hands on either side of your head, his body caging you against the bed. You are, in every manner of the word, trapped.

Lou moves his head down, and kisses you, fervent and victorious.

By the time Lou finally touches you, you’re more than ready for him. His touches and movements are clumsy, and not necessarily skilled, but your skin feels set alight by him. Every press of his fingers sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and every kiss pressed to your skin another wave of satisfaction. His eagerness and your attraction to him makes up for anything that he lacks in his technique, and your body responds to him gladly.

As he is with everything, Lou is ferocious and unyielding, and his claiming of you is nothing short of a conquest. Exactly as you'd wanted. Exactly as you'd planned.

After, you lay beside him, shivering and sweating. Lou uses his hand to push his bangs out of his face, and looks from the ceiling, to you. For once, you find his gaze warm, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

A moment of silence passes. You and Lou pant and relax into the space, and he lays an arm affectionately across your waist. It’s such a peaceful moment that you think it must be just about time that you lay all of your cards on the table.

“You know, next time, we should just have sex in my apartment. That way, instead of taking pictures, you can just review the footage from the cameras you set up.”

You keep your tone nonchalant and easy, but you can feel Lou stiffen beside you. His arm, which had been relaxed, now grips you tightly, and he turns to stare at you fully, eyes wide and wild.

Your heart is in your throat as you watch Lou’s mouth twitch. You can almost feel him assessing whether or not you’re a threat to him, can see him trying to understand how this changes things.

He may be wondering if he’s going to need to hurt me, you think.

“Excuse me?” He whispers, voice low, and you have to swallow a laugh at his incredulousness. If this situation wasn’t so tense, it would be funny.

Carefully, you reach over and cup his face in your hands. You admire him openly, smoothing your thumb across his bruised cheekbone and looking over his injured features. You absolutely delight in him, and make no attempt to hide it.

“Don’t worry, Lou. I’m on your team,” You whisper back, smile bordering manic. “I know about all of it. I've known. Okay?”

He continues to stare at you, silent, assessing.

“All of it?” He repeats hesitantly. You nod.

“We’re going to make a great couple, don’t you think?” You ask him, and his expression remains unchanged, still disbelieving and suspicious.

And then, Lou surges forward and kisses you so suddenly and forcefully that you feel as though all of the air in your lungs has been knocked out of you. Pressing his mouth to yours, consuming, Lou wraps his arms around your body, and holds you to him as if you were his life line.

---

“He had you pose as a grief counsellor to speak with the victim’s family. No ethical news source is going to accept this.”

Nina Romina sits in front of you. It has been several weeks since you first went home with Lou, and you’re sitting across from Nina in her office, your hands folded in your lap. She holds a sample of your interview, typed out into a manuscript, which contains several juicy details about a double homicide that even the police hadn’t been able to gather.

“That’s why we’re bringing it to KWLA 6,” you reply smoothly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed Lou’s contributions.”

Nina’s mouth presses into a thin line, and she says nothing.

“You haven’t said no,” you add, and she glares at you.

“Print journalism is dead. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that he sent you instead of coming here himself. And don’t think that I don’t know exactly what is going on between you two.” Nina snorts, looking away. She’s irked. You shrug off her comments, knowing that her annoyance means she’s probably going to take the deal you’ve laid out for her.

She looks back down at the papers in her hands, and then to you. She seems to consider something, and her expression softens.

“You know, I really do feel for you. This is good work, and I know that Lou is using you. He has a way of... making people do what he wants them to. Blackmailing them, bullying them, whatever he can do to get what he wants, he does it. There’s something seriously wrong with him. I don’t know what he’s done to you. But... I could maybe pull some strings. Get you a job here, instead. Get you out of there” She looks at you expectantly.

You stand up, and smooth out the wrinkles of your dress. A wry smile spreads across your face.

“Ms. Romina. I think you’re confused about my relationship with Lou.” You can’t stop the way your smile widens, “I know what your relationship with him with him was like, so I can understand why you would be. But I assure you, Lou has never asked me to do anything I’m not comfortable doing, both during and outside of work.”

You pause, amused by the shock in her expression at your sudden change in tone. Just moments before, she had believed you were harmless, like most people do when meeting with you. You continue cheerily.

“Lou is my boss. And he’s my partner, among other things. A word of advice to you: don’t presume that you know anything about us. Now, on this interview we’ve presented you with today. You and I both know that you’d be posting it as an article online, so don’t give me this ‘print is dead’ bullshit. We also both know that your ratings have dipped ever since Lou started exploring other networking options. We’d be open to negotiating an exclusive contract with you... on our conditions, and our pricing. So... can Lou expect a call from you later today?”

A long, tense moment stretches between you, before warily, Nina says, “Yes, he can.”

“Excellent.” You reply, taking back your copy of the interview sample from her hand. As you turn to leave, you hear Nina speak from behind you.

“Jesus Christ,” Nina breathes, shaking her head. “Who the fuck are you?”

You pause at the doorway.

“I’m just the assistant.” You reply, leaving without sparing her a second glance.

#lou bloom #nightcrawler #jake gyllenhaal #slasher fic #slasher x reader #my writing #horror/romance #dark fic #louis bloom #lou bloom x reader #tw stalking

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kerwynlar · 8 months ago

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Good Man

A Belly Kink Fic by Kerwynlar

The aristocratic author Lord Woolsey has found that he thinks best on a full stomach. A very full stomach. His butler is only all too happy to help out.

Tags: Explicit, Belly Kink, Burping, Overeating, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Enthusiastic consent but problematic power dynamic, implied/referenced sexual content

Note: This work was inspired by the excellent At His Service by pizza_my_heart. In that story the author does a beautiful job of putting the employer and the butler on equal footing. That's not what is going on here. While enthusiastic consent is given in this story, the power dynamic here makes the consent, at least the initial consent, dubious at best. In the real world this would be very fucked up. If you agree that it's hot in fiction, please read on. Basically all of my fics are built around very loving healthy relationships. This is not that.

1,163 words. Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Reginald Montcrieff was not sitting idly fantasizing about his employer eating. Reginald Montcrieff was very busy balancing the household accounts. He had certainly not been staring blankly at the page for nearly half an hour, stirring at every half-sound that might be the bell summoning him to the dining room.

Reginald was not picturing the plates heaped with eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, beans, and tomatoes that he had served to his employer, Lord Peter Halberd Woolsey. He was certainly not picturing forkful after heaping forkful passing Lord Woolsey’s lips. And by no means was Reginald’s mouth watering at the thought of all that food heaped into his employer’s already rounded belly, stretching it and weighing it down, expanding it within the increasingly tight confines of his clothing.

The bell from the dining room finally rang and Reginald stood so fast, he nearly knocked over his chair.

---

Lord Woolsey was, at least according to the press, one of the greatest minds of his generation. His first two treatises on political philosophy were considered required reading for anyone seriously concerned with public affairs and were discussed and quoted from the coffee shops of the intelligentsia, to university classrooms, to the great halls of Parliament. He was currently penning his third, widely anticipated, treatise.

While he was writing his second book, Lord Woolsey discovered that he thought best on a full stomach. A very full stomach.

Reginald had been a footman during the writing of that second book and had marveled at the sight of the platters that had been taken into the dining room and equally marveled at the fact that they were all empty when returned to the kitchen.

But only the butler, whose duties included being the lord’s personal attendant, was permitted to interact with Lord Woolsey when he was writing. His lordship said that he needed to keep his mind clear of extraneous voices when writing.

Following the publication of the second book, when Reginald was once again permitted in a much more corpulent Lord Woolsey’s presence, the lord had begun to notice him. The notice turned to interest and conversation. Eventually Reginald had been invited to Woolsey’s bed. He had been assured that it was an invitation, not an order, and he had been more than happy to accept.

“Would you like a promotion, dear Reg?” Woolsey had asked him one night as he watched Reginald dress after an encounter that had been pleasurable for both of them.

“I wish to serve you, sir,” Reginald had replied easily. “However you see fit.”

“I’ll be writing again soon.” Woolsey ran a hand over his soft belly. Reginald didn’t bother to hide his appreciative look. Woolsey saw it and grinned. “You know about my… eccentricities when I’m writing?”

Reginald swallowed. “Yes, sir. As much as I can from the outside.”

“You’d be prepared to cater to them?”

Woolsey liked it when he was bold on occasion. Reginald climbed back on the bed and crawled up to him. He leaned over and kissed Woolsey’s plush belly. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “Whatever you need. Anything you want.”

The other butler had been fired the next day and Reginald had taken his place.

———

When Reginald entered the dining room, Woolsey was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, and both hands rubbing his belly. Reginald felt his mouth go dry. Woolsey’s belly was straining against his waistcoat and trousers.

“Was everything to your liking, sir?” Reginald asked as he began clearing the empty plates.

“Oh ye- UUUUUURRRRRP! Oh my, excuse me, Reg. Uurrp!”

Heaven help him, Reginald was getting excited by his employer belching.

“Nothing to worry about, sir,” Reginald replied more smoothly than he felt.

“And yes, tell Cook that I’ll want the same again tomorrow. Buuurrrp! With perhaps a few more sausages and a bit more toast.”

More? Reginald could scarcely believe it, but all that was left on the plates he was clearing was crumbs.

“Shall- shall I bring you anything else now sir?”

Woolsey smiled at him. “Good man. But no, I’m quite satisfied for now.” He frowned suddenly and rubbed a particular area of his belly, then pushed on it and immediately let loose a thunderous belch. “Mm, pardon me, dear Reg,” he breathed. “I hope I don’t offend you.”

“Not in the slightest, sir.”

Not in the slightest. Did Woolsey have any idea? He certainly knew how Reginald worshipped his belly in bed, how he loved the round shape of it, its soft plushness. But this? Woolsey’s overindulgence and the evidence of it? Well, if Woolsey knew he likely wouldn’t mind. There was no doubt he enjoyed when Reginald was aroused.

Woolsey belched again and gave a quiet groan, his hands roaming his large belly. “Ah, that’s good,” he sighed. Woolsey gave his belly another pat then sat up. “Come, dear Reg,” he said. “Give me a hand up. I’m positively weighed down by that lovely meal.”

Reginald quickly put down the plate he was about to take to the dumbwaiter and hurried over to help Woolsey out of his chair. As he heaved Woolsey to his feet, he felt his employer’s eyes on his face.

“You’re looking a little flushed, Reg,” Woolsey said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. Woolsey chuckled and Reginald tried not to notice the movement of his belly. Though that was more difficult when Woolsey took Reginald’s hand and placed it on the curve of his belly. “You like this, don’t you?” Woolsey asked quietly. “You like to see me plumped up with a meal. You always do like my belly. Can you imagine how fat I’ll get writing this book? I’m only on the second chapter, and I have lots more to say.”

Reginald gasped. He was painfully hard.

Woolsey glanced down and chuckled again. “Now what shall we do about that, hmm?”

“S-sir…” Reginald stuttered.

“I need to go write my book, dear Reg,” Woolsey said quietly, moving forward so his belly was inches from Reginald’s groin. “And I suggest you take a few minutes to compose yourself. But think how big I’ll be tonight after a nice big lunch of roast chicken and then beef and potatoes for dinner, hmm? I’ll be swollen and sluggish. Too full of food to really fuck you. You’ll need to ride my cock. But you’ll do that, won’t you dear Reg?”

“Y-yes, sir!” Reginald couldn’t have controlled his breathing if his life depended on it.

“That’s my good man.” Woolsey reached up to stroke Reginald’s cheek again. “You’ll look so pretty straddling my lap, your hands on my stuffed gut. You’ll be ready for me tonight, won’t you Reg?”

“Yes, sir,” Reginald gasped out.

Woolsey pressed Reginald’s hand to his belly and gave two quick strokes to the outline of Reginald’s cock clearly visible through his trousers.

“See that you are,” Woolsey said, and stepped back, surveying Reginald with a smile. He chuckled and left the room.

Reginald barely got his fly open fast enough.

~*~

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, I appreciate you letting me know. I have another chapter partially written, and I'm more likely to finish and post if I know it will get readers.

#kerwyn's writing #belly kink #stuffing #burping #overeating #weight gain #weight gain kink #problematic power dynamic

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: thursday

summary: you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (four part series | follow-up to 'make my heart surrender)

warnings: lots of swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, use of she/her pronouns, the lightest of smut, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 5k

listen to: 91 - bleachers | now i'm in it - haim | bewitched, bothered, and bewildered - ella fitzgerald (playlist here)

a/n: re: the poll -- yall really said 'let this man be happy please!' and i love that for us. if you voted for the other fic, i want to reassure you that i will be writing that one right after this! please enjoy all of the fluff and joy of this four chapter fic. i also feel like i potentially robbed us of a smut scene so... anyone interested in a bonus smut scene as a companion to this chapter?

Thursday

“Alright, guys. We only have a few hours to get our day one prep done. I’ve outlined a schedule for today so that we’re as efficient as possible. Tomorrow’s gotta go smooth, alright?” Carmy instructs, laying out the day.

You listen intently, marveling at your boyfriend in-action. He’s so fearless when he’s in his element, and being back in New York just seems to bring back all the memories of how you met. It’s like you’re twenty seven again, huddling up for a pre-shift meeting, led by recently-promoted wunderkind CDC, Carmen Berzatto.

Only, you’re not twenty seven anymore and Carmy is the love of your life.

“I’m gonna start with the mise for our beef dish, so Syd, can you get working on our signature veal stock? I think we should work with one in the pressure cooker just in case we get short on time and have a back up,” Carmy directs, an intense determination filling his eyes.

He looks from Sydney to Marcus, before continuing his orders.

“Marcus, I need you to start on the ice cream today, chef. I ordered us some liquid nitrogen if we need to make more on the fly, but I’d really prefer not to.”

And then it’s your turn, and boy, do you love to watch him work. You have to fight the corners of your lips from curling into a broad grin because you know now is not the time.

“And lastly, I’m gonna have you work on the pasta. My goal is for us to get all of the agnolotti assembled today, so I’ll jump in when I wrap up with my mise to help you with that, yeah?”

“Heard,” the three of you answer in unison.

Everyone’s got their game faces on because this is a big deal.

The biggest, actually.

Representing The Bear at the James Beard House is more than a big deal – it’s an honor. Only a handful of chefs get invited to cook here per year, and after a little fancy footwork in terms of scheduling, the four of you were finally able to agree on a date with the famous organization. You’re more than elated to be a part of the team, even if you aren’t working at The Bear anymore.

The four of you quickly busy yourselves with setting up your stations. You only have a few hours to accomplish a whole lot of prep, and the pressure sits heavily on each of your shoulders. Tickets to the dinner had sold out within the first hour, which, after all the press, accolades, and media attention the restaurant had earned over the last few years, hadn’t been a huge surprise.

“Think you can keep up, chef? Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ rusty on me,” Marcus quips, already starting the playful trash talking early.

You let out a laugh, before challenging him in jest.

“Damn, Marcus. Hasn’t been that long. Bet I can still kick your ass on a ‘beat the clock’ mise, chef.”

“Oooooh. Shots fired,” Sydney calls out, joining in on your friendly banter.

“Challenge accepted,” Marcus shoots back, almost instantly.

And then you’re scrambling to get as many prep containers and a kitchen scale, as you race your friend and mentee, all in good fun.

You’ve missed this.

It’s only been a few months since you started your new job – a culinary education director at a startup intent on building more sustainable food systems. While your heart would always be at the restaurant, you’d been ready to take on new challenges. The salary pay and benefits didn’t hurt either. You were happy taking a grown-up job, craving a little more stability and normalcy – and so that you and Carmy could stop paying out the ass for health insurance. Besides, you were still working with food. It just looked… well, a lotta different these days.

You’ve missed the fast pace of the kitchen, your people, and Carmy’s desire for excellence, but it’s not like those things have left your life either. You still have them.

After you’d left the restaurant, Marcus had taken over as the head pastry chef. In the last few months, you’ve watched him mentor and inspire a new group of wide-eyed, green, chefs-in-the-making, which had made you prouder than you’d ever have the words for.

You can smell the sharp-allium scent of onions, as Syd quarters them for her stock, and while you have several cartons of eggs and 00 flour, Marcus has gathered all the milk that you’d just purchased for today’s prep.

“Behind,” Carmy says. He passes you by with a few 5 qt storage containers stacked, as he hugs them to his body with one arm.

You feel his other hand place the gentlest touch on the small of your back as he leans in and whispers in your ear, “It’s good to have you back, chef.”

You smile, turning your head just enough to lean back to look at him.

“It’s good to be back, chef.”

He presses the gentlest, slow kiss to your lips, and it feels like time stops for a moment. As he pulls away from you, there’s a small smirk on his face as Sydney shouts, “Oh get a room, you two!”

“If we had the time…” he murmurs quietly, planting one more soft peck onto your lips. His face is still only inches away from yours. You giggle in response, the tender moment filling your heart with warmth.

“Speaking of time… I just bought Marcus a head start,” Carmy teases, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize what he’s doing.

You pull away from him, your head snapping towards Marcus’ direction to see that he’s already filled a 5 qt container to its capacity with one portion of the milk.

“Seriously? Damn it, Carmy!” you cry out, shaking your head. “This is sabotage!”

You hear Marcus laugh in the background and as Carmy walks away with a cheeky feeling of accomplishment. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Sorry, babe. You can deal with a little hazing, yeah? Since you’ve been gone for so long. Gotta give my guy a head start. ‘S only fair.”

“You’re such a dick,” you scowl, scrambling to catch up.

Oh it is so on.

By the time you’re done with your day one prep, the four of you head to the hotel. Luckily, it’s only a five minute walk away, and you’re grateful that the James Beard Foundation chose to partner with one so close. The four of you pull your suitcases down the streets of Greenwich Village, before arriving at the luxurious, vintage-inspired hotel.

You’re eager to get up to your room, as you haven’t had a shower, nor a time to take a break since you all arrived.

“Woah…” Carmy says, his brilliant blue eyes scanning the high end hotel room. “You sure we can afford this?”

You chuckle, “I think uh… they have a partnership with the James Beard Foundation, which is the only way I can answer your question with a ‘yes’ without having to tell you that we have to sell an arm, a leg, and our first born.”

He shoots a half smile in your direction before letting out a whistle as he looks around. The floor to ceiling windows feel way outside of anything you could afford, as Carmy spots the French doors that lead right out onto a terrace. As you continue to explore the rest of the room, you spot a huge tub in the bathroom – something you’re very eager to take advantage of.

“Power nap?” you ask Carmy, setting down your suitcase in the middle of the room.

You’ll put your things away later.

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees eagerly.

You’ve barely put your book bag down before you’re both stripping off your jeans and climbing into the perfectly made hotel bed. After spending the morning traveling, you, Sydney, Marcus, and Carmy had gotten off the plane at JFK and gone straight to the James Beard House in Greenwich. Not only had Carmy been antsy to see the kitchen and get a head start on prep, you hadn’t been able to check into your hotel till this afternoon. You’re both spent, and you know that Carmy’s been running himself ragged preparing for this once in a lifetime opportunity. He hasn’t been sleeping all that well either– his thoughts consumed with nailing down the perfect menu, while paralyzed with indecision.

His quest for perfection had made him irritable over the last few days. You could see that the pressure was getting to him. His appetite was down, he was picking fights with you about small, unnecessary things at home, and pushing Sydney (sometimes a little too hard) at the restaurant.

But today, he seems a little more in control of his feelings, and it puts him a little more at ease now that you’re finally in New York. He knows he’s been driving you crazy all week, and now that you’re all here, he’s hoping he can relax a little.

Now that you’re here, in the city.

Now that the dinner is only a day and a half away.

You’re hoping he’ll slow down at some point too – give himself a little time to enjoy how big of an accomplishment this is. At least by the end of the weekend. Frankly, you’re glad you’ll have Saturday to enjoy the city without any pressure.

For all of your sakes.

You’re surprised that Carmy falls asleep with you during your late afternoon nap. He’s been so wired, so high strung lately, but you’ve just been waiting for him to come back down. Now that it seems like he is, there’s no way in hell you’re going to wake him up. You’re curled up together when you wake, your back pressed against his chest, his arms enveloping you. It feels almost impossible to pry yourself out of his arms without waking him up, but his deep slumber confirms your suspicions and you’re more than willing to let him continue sleeping. It takes a few tries to slip out of his embrace, but you do, and it’s off to the bathroom to get ready for dinner.

You try to make as little noise as possible, but by the time you're out of the shower, and your hair has been blown dry, Carmy’s up. You can hear the hotel TV on as you exit the bathroom and see he’s put his jeans back on. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You notice that the dark circles under his eyes that have accumulated over the years seem to sit heavier this week, as his eyes flicker over towards you.

“Damn, my girl’s got style,” he compliments, checking out your all black-ensemble. “We really are back in New York, huh?”

You nod, grinning at his sweet compliment, as you sit down to slip your white sneakers on.

“You meetin’ up with Liz and Maya tonight?” he asks you.

“Yeah. Syd’s gonna join for a bit before her thing. She should uh… be here any minute, actually.” You begin tying up the shoelaces of one of your shoes, before slipping the other one on.

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Nah I-, I'll see ‘em tomorrow right? But tell ‘em I say ‘hello’.”

“Of course. I think they’re both really looking forward to seeing you.”

You check the time on your phone making sure you have enough time, before you make your way to where Carmy sits on the edge of the bed.

“What’re you going to do tonight?” you ask, curiously, stopping so that your body is right in front of his.

“Well Marcus is staging at per se so… I’ll probably just hang out. Order room service or pick up a sandwich across the street. I wanna run through all this shit so tomorrow goes as well as it can,” Carmy answers, waving his notebook at you.

He’s like a man possessed, but it’s one of the many reasons you love him. You pull the notebook out of his hands tossing it somewhere on the bed behind you. You place your knees on each side of his hips, before settling down on top of him.

“Think you can relax a little tonight?”

He pulls you in, his arms moving over your hips. Carmy leans in, placing a small kiss against your glossy lips.

“Think you can help me with that?”

You giggle in response, twisting your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I think… that could be arranged.”

Before anything too spicy can happen, there’s a knock at the door and you know it’s Syd. Carmy groans as you pull away, falling back onto the bed with a sigh of defeat. You climb off of him, heading to answer the door.

“Hey, you ready?” Sydney asks, as you greet her.

“Yeah, let me just grab my phone,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in.

As she enters the hotel room, Carmy’s sitting up. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, he leans over, resting his forearms on his legs as he runs a hand through his messy curls.

Sydney looks from you to a somewhat pouty Carmy, as if she knows she interrupted something.

“Staying in tonight, Carm?” she asks him, as you gather your things.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, and you can’t help but notice how tired he looks.

Sydney rolls her eyes in response, “Don’t worry. I’ll have her back by nine.”

“Alright, I’m ready,” you say with a smile as you address Sydney.

“You guys have fun,” Carmy nods, with a half assed wave.

“Don’t work too hard, boss,” Sydney adds, as the two of you turn to leave. “Oh and Carmy. You’ve got a little…” She gestures towards the lipstick you’ve left on his face.

You laugh in response, and as you close the door, Carmy can hear Sydney’s ‘oh my god, you two are like rabbits’ comment in the distance.

Carmy allows himself to fall back on the bed, reaching above his head to grab his notebook again. He’s honestly grateful to have a night to himself. He’s never been much for going out, or big social events, so having a night in feels like a good kind of calm before the storm – especially because the next few days will be full of social interactions. He’d always found New York City a little overstimulating.

Between the dinner and the reception on Saturday, Carmy felt like he was collapsing under the enormous pressure – his only out being excellence. It’s not just the fact that being invited to cook at the James Beard house was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but there’s important business to announce here too. And then there’s the social aspect of it all, and he can’t help but feel like there are high expectations: from the food world, his reputation, your old friends from New York. And he wants to make everyone happy – he wants to impress them all.

Something about being back here, and being back here with you, has him caught up in his head about it all. This is where you’d met. It’s also where he’d been at his lowest – right before Mikey died. So much has changed, and Carmy feels too large for his old battlefield.

Because that’s what it had been for him: a battlefield.

A battle for his mental health, to rise to the top of the New York City fine dining scene, fighting with his feelings for you.

Over the last two years, he had learned that he didn’t have to fight every single damn day. Some days he could just… be – be himself, whatever the fuck that meant, be a friend, and be with you. It felt strange – familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Being back here makes him somehow feel like the total loser he was six years ago when he first arrived in NYC… and a completely different person at the same time.

While he was over the moon when he got the call from the James Beard Foundation, he also couldn’t fight this uncomfortable feeling that’s been sitting in his stomach all week long. Carmy had never quite been able to come to terms with the whole ‘celebrity’ aspect of the food world. He knew what he could do in the kitchen. That was unquestionable. But the rest of it – the networking, the celebrity chef circles – was the part he felt most unsure about.

Ever since Sydney’s Rising Star win, he’d let her take center stage with her rising visibility in the culinary world. Actually, he’d been grateful that she was so good at it – that it seemed like she enjoyed the part of the job he hated. There was someone to take the pressure off of him – someone who thrived in front of the camera so that he didn’t have to. But he knows at some point this weekend, he’ll have to face the music.

There were big changes coming to The Bear.

It didn’t take long after the initial introductions for your friends to fawn over Sydney. They were more than happy to meet your friend they’d heard all about, and the incredible chef who was shaking up the Chicago food scene.

“Well I’m glad to hear that some things have changed and that working with Carmy’s not a total nightmare any longer-?” Liz concludes your conversation about the restaurant, earning an eye roll from Maya and a laugh from both you and Sydney.

“Oh no it’s still tough sometimes,” Sydney says back. “He has his days. We all do.”

“Liz!” you protest, in regards to the Carmy-bashing.

“What?! You didn’t have to work directly under him back then!” she defends herself, before clarifying with Sydney. “And in his defense, Sydney, it was really our exec chef who was the real nightmare.”

“Oh she works directly under him, alright,” Maya jokes, raising an eyebrow at you.

“And sometimes on top of him, and also-,” you quip back, ready to play along.

“Oh my god, you’re out of control and I am sick of you!” Sydney exclaims with a laugh in reference to your crass comment.

“So tell us more about the new restaurant,” Maya prompts, refocusing the conversation back to Sydney’s previous reveal.

Sydney tells your friends about The Bear’s plans to expand, and shares ideas she has that even you haven’t heard from Carmy yet. As she wraps up her story, she realizes what time it is, meaning that she’s gotta head uptown soon. She really only was supposed to stay for a glass of wine, but meeting your friends has been so fun that she’s lost track of time.

“Shit. I have to head out,” she says. “But I’ve really loved meeting you guys. You’re coming to the dinner tomorrow night, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Absolutely.”

“And the reception!” you add gleefully, so glad you get to see your best friends three days in a row.

“It’s been really great meeting you, Sydney,” Liz says, shooting you a look of approval. She squeezes your hand under the table momentarily, before saying, “Thanks for taking care of our girl. She speaks so highly of you.”

“Where are you off to next?” Maya asks, excitedly.

“Syd’s got dinner plans,” you answer, waiting for Sydney to provide more detail.

“Yeah, I uh-, I got invited to one of the To Be Hosted events and it just worked out that we’d be in town for this the same weekend,” Sydney replies, a glimmer of excitement flashing through her eyes as she shares.

“Damn, you got invited to a supper club?” Liz marvels. “Okay!”

“Yeah because she’s a rockstar,” you cheer your friend on, saying it so matter of factly that even a stranger would believe you.

You all say your goodbyes to Sydney before ordering food. It feels so good to be back in the city, back here with some of your best friends. Maya and Liz had been the friends that held you up, and you them, when you lived here. While you had met Liz at your last job, a sous chef under Carmy’s leadership, Maya worked in fashion and the two of you had become fast friends after meeting through an ex-boyfriend. Once you introduced the two of them to each other, the three of you had been inseparable ever since.

They had always been your biggest cheerleaders – especially when it came to you and Carmy.

“She’s great,” Maya says, in reference to Sydney.

“Right? I’m so excited for her. This is a huge deal: create her own menu, a chance to run kitchen without Carmy…” you agree, feeling deep satisfaction over the amazing people you have in your life. “We’re announcing the big news at the dinner tomorrow.”

“Speaking of, how is our favorite guy? What’s he up to tonight?” Maya asks, guiding the conversation back to Carmy.

“I told him he could come but I think he wanted to stay in tonight. I think he needs some time to decompress. He’s been pretty high strung all week,” you answer.

“Carmy? High strung?” Liz asks back sarcastically, earning a laugh from you. “I’m kidding! I really am looking forward to seeing him tomorrow.

Maya shakes her head, before taking a sip of her glass of wine. She’s always adored Carmy, but knows that Liz has a different relationship with him, having worked as a line cook.

“You guys are… getting serious, huh?” Liz asks, glancing over at you.

“Um.. I think those two were married after their first coffee date,” Maya adds.

“It was not a date!” you insist, shooting her a look.

Liz lets out an unconvinced laugh, and you accept defeat because you know they’ve always been right about you and Carmy.

“Maya, don’t forget. Our girl is and has always been the Queen of Denial,” Liz adds, winking in your direction.

“Oh ha-ha. You guys are so funny,” you reply dryly. You nod, thinking about you and Carmy’s relationship over the last few years. “Yeah uh… it’ll be three years in the Fall so… you could say it’s getting pretty serious.”

Your friends are beaming back at you in response to your admission, and while you’d love to spend all night talking about how head over heels you are for Carmy, you’re also kind of ready to shift the attention off of you and your relationship.

“Enough about me. What’s going on with you guys?” you change the subject.

It feels so good to catch up with your girl friends. You all agree to make it an early night. While Maya’s husband had agreed to put their kid to bed, she wants to make it home in time anyways. Liz has a date later, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped up dinner and are walking back to your hotel. You send Carmy a quick text, because you’re only a few blocks away.

You: On the way back.

New York City has always been so inspiring to you. The city itself feels alive – like there’s an electric undercurrent that always makes you feel so full. There’s never a dull moment, and it feels as if the potential for a wild adventure is always around the corner. It’s also the place that you and Carmy met, all those years ago. It’s funny. The version of you that met him six years ago never could’ve predicted this: that you’d actually get to be here together, after almost three years of loving each other fiercely.

Your friends were and always have been right about you.

Back then, you were Queen of Denial and even then, Carmy had been your king.

But you’re here now: in the city you met in, stupidly in love with the man you’d met six years ago who had seemed terrified to merely have a conversation with you.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, interrupting your trip down memory lane, as you peek at the text you just received.

Carmy: Went out for a walk and a smoke.

You type back a quick, yet short reply.

You: Love you.

When you return to the hotel room, you enjoy the quiet of the evening. It still feels like spring in NYC, so you open a window because it just feels too damn good outside. No wonder he’d gone for a walk. You kick your shoes off, placing them gently by the door, before stripping off your jacket and heading into the bathroom.

As you pull your hair up and out of your face, piling it into one conglomerate on top of your head, you eye the large bathtub you’d admired earlier. Not only are you in need of a relaxing soak, but you’re hoping you can persuade Carmy to join you – maybe even help him destress a little. You don’t think twice about it, as you strip off all of your clothes, sliding on one of the fluffy robes that the hotel has provided. You flip on the hot water, the sound of rumbling water against tile hitting your ears.

There’s a bath soak in a glass jar that you find on the bathroom counter, before adding it to the increasingly hot water. While it looks like a mixture of some kind of soak and epsom salt, large bubbles begin to form underneath the rapid stream of the faucet, and you inhale deeply.

Lavender. Vanilla. Chamomile, maybe?

The smell puts you at ease and you can feel your shoulders melting away from your ears.

It’s not long before Carmy returns, the bathtub is almost at its capacity and the bath soak that you put in the hot water has bubbled up and blossomed into large, sudsy configurations. You’ve put on a jazz playlist, the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald filling the small space as you hum along.

“Babe?” Carmy calls out to you, as you hear the front door close behind him.

“I’m in here,” you call to him, turning the volume of your phone down a few levels. .

You hear a shuffle of shoes, before he’s peeking around the door frame, his eyes lighting up as soon as he sees you. He knows it’s silly. It’s not like he’s been able to be very present over the last week, and it begins to dawn on him that he’s missed you.

“How was your walk?” you ask softly.

“Good.”

He looks around the bathroom, the air thick with humidity from the hot water. You turn the faucet off, as you’ve now filled the tub to its capacity.

“You look comfy.”

“I am. It’s a very comfy robe.”

You wait a beat before preparing your ask.

“Big tub,” you entice him, gesturing towards the bubble bath that awaits you.

“Yeah?” he asks, a half smile on the edges of his lips as he takes a step towards you.

“Big enough for two,” you nod, making your case.

It’s all the convincing he needs. You’re removing your robe, leaving your bare body on display for him to see, and soon enough, he’s stripping down and climbing into the bathtub with you. You share an awkward laugh as the two of you clumsily figure out how to position yourselves for optimal comfort. Your back is pressed against his chest, and you’re truly in awe of the large bathtub that somehow holds the both of you.

It becomes progressively easier for Carmy to relax. Between the hot water, and your naked body pressed against his, thoughts and worries about tomorrow begin to slip away. The two of you enjoy the quiet intimacy between you, the soft sounds of your favorite jazz standards, and Carmy’s lazily dragging his fingertips across any bit of exposed skin that he can.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, and Carmy buries his face in the crevice where your neck and shoulders meet.

“Why don’t we do this more often?” he asks, in between leaving a few slow-paced, soft kisses across your shoulders.

“Hm?” you hum in response. From the way his mouth and hands move across your body, and the silky feeling of the hot water, you barely have a thought left in your head.

“This whole… bath thing,” he clarifies, exhaling a deep sigh.

This may be the most relaxed he’s felt all week and he likes that you seem to be enjoying this too.

“Probably because we have a tub that I can only assume was built for a small show dog,” you joke.

He laughs dryly.

“Fair enough.”

Carmy waits a beat before speaking again, enjoying how his mind has quieted for the first time in days.

“Let’s put it on the list… for when we’re ready to move to a new place,” he suggests, quietly.

“Somewhere with a big tub?” you ask, only sort of surprised by his request.

“Yeah.”

You turn your head to look at him, as Carmy presses a searing kiss to your lips. You feel his hand snake between your legs and you begin to understand exactly why he’s enjoying this whole bath thing.

“As much as I’m enjoying this…” he whispers against your lips. “Think you maybe want to get out of this tub…”

Another kiss.

“… dry off…”

You slide your tongue against his as his fingertips move higher up your inner thigh, earning a hiss of pleasure from you.

“…not put our clothes back on?”

And then he’s swallowing your moans in his mouth, as he continues his exploration. Your head is spinning, and it’s not just the hot water that makes you feel as if your soul was set aflame.

“Yes.”

The next morning, you wake up alone. On the bedside table there’s a note in Carmy’s scratchy handwriting that reads:

Couldn’t sleep. Went to Chelsea Market. Love you.

You let out a frustrated sigh. Last night had been incredible but you also knew it’d be back to the grind today. While you’re excited for him – and for tonight – you’re also kind of ready for this to be over. You’re ready to have your boyfriend back.

read: bonus smut scene | chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender

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physalian · 7 months ago

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When a Villain’s “Villainy” Dismisses Their Valid Argument For Change (Or, Marvel)

Marvel stories aren’t the only ones that pull the whole “this villain has a very valid and justified stance on something socially acceptable but actually terrible and- oh, nvm, they’re a murderer, thus they’re totally bad,” schtick, but they’re the loudest voices.

Pop Culture Detective did this deep dive into how the “Avengers” really are “Avengers” (as opposed to “Prevengers,” like Tony points out) because they don’t have any initiatives or social stances that promote change, they just stop villains from making change. Most damning example of this character is Killmonger.

Excellent deep dive, go watch it. I won’t regurgitate it here. Instead, I’ll talk about how these villains are also attempts at having depth and nuance and are very hit-and-miss about it.

So. Villains with nuance: How to write a character with something to say, while showing that their way of going about it is wrong, while also still agreeing that they were right.

—

This isn’t actually that hard, y’all. Marvel doesn’t do it because they don’t want to piss off the rich people or be “woke”.

So say I have my antagonist named…. Wilson.

Wilson’s goal: prison reform/dismantling the for-profit punitive “justice” system that works to keep people in the system instead of helpful rehab.

Wilson’s motivation: that his dad got incarcerated for possession of drugs, and through a series of Very Bad and Corrupt Legal Practices, Wilson’s dad spent 45 years in prison and died there.

Wilson’s plan: peacefully protest, then when that doesn't work and he's exhausted all other legal avenues, systematically blackmail every cop, justice, and prison employee that he deems corrupt, racist, etc, on the grounds of either “just following orders” or “that’s how it was” isn’t good enough in effort to get them fired/ruin their lives. Doesn’t matter how involved in his dad’s incarceration these people are, Wilson wants to make a statement, and he’s going to make it as loud as possible.

Enter the hero: Sarah.

She’s the seasoned detective trying to catch him because crime is crime and he’s done a lot of it.

Marvel’s hypothetical version of this story: Wilson joins and organizes several peaceful protests and marches and nonviolent gatherings, gathering a vocal following that’s concerning to local, then national, government officials when he gains more power than they’re comfortable with. Around halfway through the story, Wilson breaks and starts randomly murdering these same people just so the audience doesn’t start to root for him.

Marvel’s solution: Wilson ends up in prison, or dead from a high and ambiguous fall, due to his own actions because murder is bad and he’s done a lot of it. Prison reform, what?

Or: Wilson ends up in prison because he still committed violence against a lot of innocent people and the punishments he enacted didn’t fit their crimes. The populace remains horrified by his actions, mourn the corrupt government people, and claim this is exactly why the prison system is the way it is. Sarah, however, understands that Wilson was right, and works for the rest of her career on enacting prison reform.

You know, Zootopia did this pretty well, for a kids’ movie, by having Judy publicly admit that what they’re doing is wrong and try to change it, while also simultaneously botching it entirely.

Ironically, Marvel does have a property that tries its damndest to do the “villain actually has a point, he’s just going about proving it the wrong way” and that’s X-Men. Their best efforts aren’t the ‘ha ha CGI explosion of cool mutant powers’ but the social commentary these characters were meant to reflect.

You can write a villain with a point. But if you’re going to go far enough to make a polarizing statement in your work, knowing it will piss people off, commit to that message and don’t abandon it the second you’ve made them “irredeemable”.

That, and, like Zootopia, it gives your hero so much more nuance when they can admit their staunch, heroic worldview is flawed and needs growth, or complete dismantling, and that hard life lessons can come from anywhere, not just their heroes—particularly when they themselves are an archetypical “hero”. (also killing this complicated villain instead of giving them the chance to see the proper enactment of the change they want to see in the world is a huge missed opportunity).

Not limited to superhero stories, either, or hot button issues like prison reform. Do it in fantasy with fantasy bigotry. It doesn’t have to be a huge global plot either. “Critical voice is painted as the villain and resorts to unsavory-to-illegal activity to stay alive and/or promote their cause” also fits plenty of war stories big and small.

Heck, go even smaller, with lower stakes, and you could write about a high school bully victim who goes too far in trying to get justice/catharsis when the law doesn’t do enough about it. Write about a dysfunctional family. This trope is so flexible it’s disappointing how rarely it’s done well.

Whatever the case:

Make a problem in the world of your story that the society/powers that be of that story doesn’t actually think is a problem, or isn’t doing enough to solve

Make solving this problem the villain’s goal

Make the villain’s plan to solving this problem deeply flawed and the wrong way to do it

Make the hero (and the narrative) recognize that their intentions are in the right place, the actions aren’t, but the villain’s plight was heard, and the hero, presumably with the social and political power to enact real change, resolves to make that change.

The villain loses, but they also still win.

I am sick and tired of throwing the whole character out and trying to eat your cake and have it, too, pretending to have a deep and nuanced narrative that ends up saying nothing more than “crime is always wrong no matter the circumstances if the governing bodies aren’t paying you to commit those crimes.”

I’m not a huge fan of Black Panther (I think by that point my Marvel fatigue on all these new characters was starting to creep in), but they really did Killmonger dirty, didn’t they?

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #character design #character development #writing villains #heroes and villains #marvel #erik killmonger

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lovinglokilaufeyson · 4 months ago

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Love is a Dagger: II

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader/Dagger

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Smuttish/Suggestive (on Loki’s part, Dagger’s not there yet). Depictions of Fighting. More Steve x Reader (in the form of comfort, not romance). Loki Pining. Jealous!Loki. Slow-Burn.

Wordcount: 1,929

Summary: The first practice with Thor and Loki ensues, much to your dismay. You soon realize that you and Loki as a team are more powerful than you thought possible: however, it leads to the injury of one of the Avengers.

A/N: I knowwww there has not been Loki x Reader as much. Try to remember, this is a slow-burn and Dagger is still mourning! It pains me too! If you need to read the previous chapter, please do so here: Chapter I.

Waking up in the morning, you were dreading your practice with Loki and Thor. You had barely slept from the anxiety, even with going to bed early. You decided to start getting ready for your day, which included showering, and doing your skincare and hair. You opted out of makeup for the time being, given the soon sweaty environment. You crafted a long, dutch braid along the center of your head, which would commonly hold up in the practice room and in battle. You dressed in a sleek, tight jumpsuit that would promote easy movement, along with some boots.

You waltzed down the hallway, then followed closely by Loki, who jogged to catch up with you. Oddly enough, it wasn’t exactly to force you into conversation. It was more so in order to relieve himself of the sight of your taut asscheeks and hips swinging from side to side. He had already relieved his morning wood earlier, and he didn’t want to evoke any of his carnal desires before training, especially around you.

Once beside you, Loki greeted you with a soft smile. “Good morning, darling. Ready to spar?” he teased. “Oh boy, am I ever. I’ll let you know, I’m a little rusty.” You mentioned, trying your best to remain positive. “Well, as long as you look like that, darling, I don’t think you’ll have any problems.” He winked. Your breath hitched, and your heart fluttered.

But what about Cloak?

Thankfully, Captain Rogers was near, waiting to greet you at the training room door. He was dressed in his training armor, which was drastically similar to his armor out on the field. “Good morning, Y/N, Loki. Tony and I will be overseeing the practice today, just to make sure everything goes well.” Oh thank god. You thought. Steve sent a smile your way, which was easily returned from you. It was hard not to. Loki’s stomach began bubbling in anger, but he was quickly able to force it to subside. Mine.

No no, stop Loki. She’s not yours. She’s in mourning. Don’t force her into anything.

“Looking forward to it, Captain.” Something in the way you addressed Rogers sent Loki’s emotions spiraling again. No no no.

You all entered the training room, where Thor and Tony were waiting. “Alright kids. It’s party time.” Tony announced. “Given that we know absolutely nothing of the nature of…” Tony gestured to yourself and Loki “you two. Cap and I will be spectating safely from the encased balcony above, but will intervene only if necessary. Okay?”

“Okay.” You, Thor, and Loki all answered at once.

“To start, we’re going to have Loki and Y/N team up, to see what the extent of this connection entails.” Tony continued.

Connection. You didn’t exactly know how to feel about that word. Whatever you and Loki “had” was definitely… different. You still didn’t know how to feel in regard to it. But you had a feeling that your feelings would be clarified after practice today, at least a little bit. You would both finally have some answers.

Loki caught your eyes, giving you a curt nod and a slight smile. You nodded back, suppressing your own smile. Trying your best to, at least. Loki caught on, and smiled to himself. He did want to impress you with his powers, but he also knew that his brother was powerful. Typically, Thor was the more well-known god, due to his flaunting about with his hammer, his lightning, and of course, the thunder. Loki had his… mischief. The magic could definitely come in handy, especially with creation of his duplicates. He also wondered if your powers would enhance his. Or his, yours?

“Just, wait until Tony and I are out of the way, we know you’re all very powerful.” Cap spoke, sending a wink your way. He and Tony started up the stairs, while yourself, Loki and Thor all stood waiting. Thor was wielding Mjolnir, who you had yet to see the full effect of. Loki, in the midst, had tripled himself. One remained in Loki’s original place, one behind Thor (which Thor had yet to notice) and one behind yourself, which you definitely did notice. You nearly jumped, which caused your blades to press through the skin between your fingers, which you immediately noticed.

Your daggers tended to appear during dangerous situations, and given the light scare that Loki had given you. Loki’s attention was focused solely on you, as well as the adorable little jump you displayed after seeing himself behind you. He was jealous that it wasn’t him, and wished he had swapped places with that duplicate.

You were quite the precious mortal, weren’t you?

“Feel free to begin!” Tony shouted, and in a flash of a moment, Thor launched Mjolnir at you, which you quickly ducked from, followed by the Loki behind you. Though, it would have just gone right through him anyways. Right?

As the hammer boomeranged back to Thor, you shot a dagger at him, which he also dodged. You began to approach Thor, with the intent to utilize your daggers close range. Loki followed close behind, with his own daggers wielded.

Instead of this, however, Thor utilized Mjolnir to hurdle Loki backward.

No! You heard your thoughts wail at you. “Loki!” You shouted, instinctively throwing one of your daggers at him, which caused Mjolnir to ricochet off of Loki and into the wall instead, while the blade itself landed in Loki’s chest, replenishing him of the previously lost momentum. He appeared next to you once again in a mere second, as you launched onto Thor’s shoulders, attacking him with your blades. He became woozy, but was still able to lure Mjolnir back to him, which effectively knocked you off of him. Loki caught you, which, to your surprise, hurled you both into the air like a rocket.

Both light and dark green magic surged behind you as you were propelled together across the room. Before you knew it, you were traveling back towards Thor, like you had both placed a target on him. Thor tried to launch Mjolnir, but it quickly deflected off of you both.

Loki’s touch was magical in more ways than one. The air that carried you was animalistic, almost hungry to strike Thor down. You made eye contact with the god that held you, smiling at him. To your surprise, he was doing the same at you before you even noticed. You watched a gleam of green course across Loki’s eyes, and suddenly, you hit Thor.

You hardly even noticed the impact, from how the magic had encased yourself and Loki.

When you landed, however, was when the consequences began. Thor was down. He laid unconscious on the ground, pallor consuming his body. “Thor!” You shouted, with no response. In an accelerated fashion, Tony and Steve made their way down to the arena. You ran to Thor, Loki following close behind. “Medical!” Tony yelled, prompting a surge of personnel into the space.

〰// ▬ʃ════▻ ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆ ◅════ʅ▬ \\〰

Thor was placed into the medical bay of the facility, while yourself and Loki stood in the doorway. You tried to stay out of the way as the professionals worked their… magic.

“What did I do?” You asked suddenly. Loki went to comfort you, but spoke “we, darling. We.”

“Loki, for gods’ sake! It’s not a good thing! Your brother is unconscious and severely injured.”

Shit. Loki thought. I should not have said that.

“Darling, Dag- I’m sorry. Please.” But you were already gone. You swiftly retreated to your corridors, anxious for some alone time now. Or, perhaps, for a while. You weren’t fond of the profound impact that yours and Loki’s magic together had. I mean, you hand single-handedly - double-handedly - taken out a literal god. Well, Loki was also a god.

You skipped out on both lunch and dinner, you were fairly exhausted from the usage of your newfound powers, as well as the emotional toll of mourning Cloak, feeling connected to Loki, and your said connection to Loki inflicting damage to Thor.

A little after both meals, you heard a knock at your door, which was followed by the slight tap of a ceramic plate outside the door. Someone was leaving meals for you. They were quite delicious, actually. What you could eat, anyways. Your brain was flooded with emotions, and you could hardly focus on anything other than them.

〰// ▬ʃ════▻ ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆ ◅════ʅ▬ \\〰

It was later in the evening that you heard another knock at your door. “Y/N?” You heard Steve’s voice on the other side. You approached, somehow glad that you weren’t going to be faced with Loki. You were greeted by the Captain, who was immediately weary of his words due to your appearance. You were slightly disheveled, your braid had started to separate from its form, and the look on your face was less than pleasant. “Hey- I’m sorry. I’m really exhausted after today.” You spoke, looking into Steve’s sympathetic eyes.

“No worries at all, Y/N. I understand how this must be making you feel. I just came to see if there was anything you needed, even if it was just someone to listen.”

“How’s Thor?”

“He’s okay, in critical but stable condition, according to the Docs. Still unconscious.”

“This was the absolute last thing I wanted to happen.” You spoke, bringing yourself towards him to bury yourself in his chest. He settled his arms around your back, steadily running his hands along your torso. “I know.”

Yet again, across the hallway, Loki lingered. He watched as you buried yourself in the Captain’s chest, with an incredulous amount of jealousy building in his own chest. He was the one who left meals at the door for you, and yet? Here you were, getting comfort from the Captain, yet again.

His blood boiled. He nearly ran into the room to disband the sight.

No no Loki. Not now.

Amidst the vision he saw in front of him, he heard the Captain say: “I know. I know you’d never mean to truly hurt Thor. You’re a healer of your own, in your soul.”

Suddenly, you disbanded from one another, as an idea popped into your head. Healer. Yes! That had to be it! You could heal Thor, utilizing your life force!

“Thank you, Cap! I couldn’t have done it without you.” You smiled, regaining your energy from earlier. You gave his arms a squeeze before you ran out of the room, towards the medical bay.

Loki followed close behind, although you didn’t know it yet.

〰// ▬ʃ════▻ ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆ ◅════ʅ▬ \\〰

You hurried to the med bay where Thor was staying, unconscious. You were reminded that it was your own doing that he was injured so terribly.

You pulled up a chair next to him, leaning over his kindled body. You sighed, as images of yourself and Loki charging into Thor flooded your mind. You and Cloak never did anything of the sort.

But maybe that was because you couldn’t.

What you knew you were capable of doing, however? Healing.

You lifted Thor’s gown so that you could reveal his abdomen, which looked painfully singed. Placing one hand down on his skin, you began to feel your blood pulsating. A flash of white magic raged between your palm and his stomach.

Your life force was slowly being drained in order to heal the god, until the room beamed with bright light. Suddenly, it all went dark. Black. The last thing you remembered was hearing your name shouted from across the room “Y/N!”

>>> Chapter III

Taglist: @lotrefcp

#loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson #loki series #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x you #mcu loki #marvel loki #loki marvel #loki smut #loki x reader fluff #loki god of mischief

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solangeloficawards · 10 months ago

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solangelo fic awards 2024!

oh hey! were back, and on a new blog! happy year 7 babes!

"best ____" fic nomination forms

best series nomination form

author of the year nomination form

let me know if you find any mistakes with the forms and i will fix it asap. you can also submit fics via message or ask! submissions end 01/31 and voting will (hopefully) be up by 02/02! <3

keep reading for past years, categories, & guidlines

2024 categories:

best fluff (award for the fluffiest, sweetest fics!)

best au (award for the best alternete universe or trope fics!)

best canon compliant (award for best demigod-centric universe following straight along with the classic riordan universe!)

best angst (award for the most heart-wrenching, angsty fic!)

returning category! best oneshot (award for one-chatper, under 5k word fics for our short story writers!)

new and improved! best wip (award for your favorite unfinished or abandoned multi-chaptered fics! previously best unfinished chaptered)

best misc (any fic that you dont think fits well into any of the other categories! this could include crackfics, crossover fics, miscellaneous oneshots, or any of your favorite tropes!)

best series (award for multiple fics within one series that all relate to the same plot/universe)

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#rip chaptered finished and gift, forever in our hearts

references:

from the past: 2018 winners. 2019 winners. 2020 winners. 2021 winners. 2022 winners, 2023 winners

every fic masterlist: 2018 masterlist, 2019 masterlist, 2020 masterlist, 2021 masterlist, 2022 masterlist, 2023 masterlist

guidelines:

you can submit your own work

you can submit as many or as little fics as you’d like for any of the categories. the more the better!

fics published at any date can be submitted; however ,fics submitted after the deadline will not be included

fics cannot be any of the following: fics that have already won in previous years, non solangelo centric, orphan or anonymous fics (if i dont know the authors idk if they want to be included), explicit nsfw or any mention of underage nsfw (nsfw fics otherwise will be tagged as so), rape/non-con fics, graphic depictions of suicide, contains unnecessary racism/homophobia/trasnphobia or any other hateful content, harry potter aus, and any other content with homophobic or transphobic origins. fics submitted that violate any of these will not be included

you can submit multiple fics per category, however please do not submit the same fic for more than one category (if this does happen, i’ll just decide what category it best fits)

there is also a chance your fic may change categories from where you submitted it. this is only to help your fic do better, but you can let us know if you dont want that to happen

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in the case that you do/someone else has submitted your work, you are allowed promote yourself, however you cannot offer anything in return for people to vote for your work. theres no prize for winning besides personal satisfaction so theres really no need

please do not be upset at me or anyone involved if you don't win. theres always next year!

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all relating posts for this year are tagged with #fic awards 2024! good luck :)

#solangelo #solangelo fic #nico di angelo #will solace #fic awards 2024 #nominations

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daecheonsa · 27 days ago

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소년만화 (sonyeon manhwa ; 'BOY COMICS') is a pre-debut single released by DAM.NATION, serving as the opening theme for the online docuseries 'GOD SAVE THE DAMNED.' The track was released on YouTube as well as most streaming platforms on September 27th, 2024, days ahead of the premiere of the webseries' first episode. The anthemic pop-rock song takes clear inspiration from the opening title songs of shonen anime; maintaining an infectious burst of energy from the beginning, utilizing small touches of strings to give the song a cinematic quality, easy to imagine leading into an episode of adventure and intense battle scenes. These themes follow the song into it's lyrics, too, detailing a protagonist's refusal to back down, and drive to keep fighting until his last breath. Debuting in a boyband may not quite be the same as saving the world, but the parallels are easy to draw, especially as Hwihun takes to the second part of the chorus and promises; 'I’ll present to you huge emotions and tears / In order for the viewer to never be able to forget.' The single did not receive any promotion, nor a music video. It failed to enter any major charts. To the confusion of fans, only five voices can be counted on 소년만화; those belonging to the identified members of the group. As speculation that THE OTHER BOY may not be in the final lineup had been widespread since the announcement of their debut, his lack of presence on their first official track should have been solid confirmation of this fact. Curiously, however, his face can be seen in the top corner of the album art.

001. 소년만화. (Boy Comics) Inspo Track. © OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT.

#I DO NOT RECOMMEND PUTTING THE VIDEO IN FULL SCREEN ON PC LMAO #fictional idol community #fictional idol group #kpop oc #idol oc #𝖣𝖠𝖬.𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡:ㅤㅤ( awake / arise or be forever fall'n ) ━━ㅤㅤ'predebut' era.#𝖣𝖠𝖬.𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡:ㅤㅤ( awake / arise or be forever fall'n ) ━━ㅤㅤpromotions.#𝖣𝖠𝖬.𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡:ㅤㅤ( awake / arise or be forever fall'n ) ━━ㅤㅤdiscography.

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catindabag · 1 year ago

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TBOSAS on Crack! ✨essential information✨

⭐️❄️⭐️

FIRST off, in honor of the book and its movie release, TBOSAS on Crack is solely (just) created as a JOKE!Alternative Universe that focuses more on the 24 OG Mentors of the 10th Hunger Games. This includes the funny/romantic misunderstandings of Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth that gave everyone the impression that they were actually “secretly” dating, and are indeed boyfriends (until they honestly were).

In addition, this Crack!AU will tell you the compelling story of how a bunch of delinquents “accidentally” stopped the Hunger Games from continuing, just because of a certain Mentor’s ✨nepotism✨.

MORE or less, most of the characters in the book are the same when it comes to their personalities and backstories. Well, except for our Mentors. They’re a bunch of crackhead Capitol kids with too much fun and stress on their hands. They even almost made Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul quit their respective jobs.

ALSO, these young walking disasters are not “all there” in the head. Heck! Half of them went crazy years ago because of the infamous 2 year Capitol Siege by the rebels that almost starved them all to death. Just ask Coryo Snow and Persephone. But as for the other half, let’s just say that all they want to do is eat, drink, party, and ✨graduate✨.

Here is a quick character info: [Read Me]

Here are their visuals: [Read Me]

Here’s the Hunger Games Origin: [Read Me]

Here’s their playlist: [Read Me]

Here are their ✨Code Names✨: [Read Me]

And here’s Dean Highbottom’s take: [Read Me]

Here’s that Epic The Musical Post: [Read Me]

Here’s the fate of District 13: [Read Me]

PS: For sanity’s sake, no Mentor or Tribute will be dying in this Crack!AU. No one gets killed! Bombs will still explode inside the Capitol Arena, but our crazy kids will wear the thickest plot armor EVER, just because I’m their only sponsor!🤣

Read the Cracks here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78,

The cracks are not in chronological order, but someday they will. . .

MOREOVER, this Crack!AU includes the following:

The accidental birth of ✨Snowjanus✨!😘

Also known as Corjanus, SnowPlinth, CabbageBread, The Grandma’am golden ticket to a rich life, and Strabo’s not so secret plan to rule all of Panem through his only son’s marriage to Crassus Snow’s boy.

Coryo Snow malfunctioning for the hundredth time because of how forward and shamelessly romantic Sejanus Plinth is.

“Fine! I’ll marry into money! I’m sick of eating cabbages anyway!”

“Stop throwing bread to the dead, Sejanus Plinth! Throw it to the living!”

The Mentors (intentionally) delaying the Hunger Games from officially starting because of their nonstop shenanigans with their Tributes (much to Dr. Gaul and her Gamemaker’s frustration).🤣

The Tributes slowly accepting (and sometimes rejecting) the fact that their Mentors are just a bunch of “dramatic nepotistic crazy clowns” who refuse to learn basic social cues.

The 10th Hunger Games being officially postponed (over and over again) because of Felix Ravinstill’s ✨nepotism✨ working overtime.😌💅

In truth, the Gamemakers were “forced” to stop the countdown (over and over again) because half of the Mentors illegally barged into the control room without Dr. Gaul’s permission. Afterwards, Felix just used the excuse of “My granduncle is the President of Panem, I can do whatever I want” card to postpone the games.

Lucy Gray ignoring the personal space of her fellow annoyed Tributes (and everyone she meets), just because she’s “Covey” and quirky.

The poor underpaid Capitol Peacekeepers wanting a salary increase, vacation, and promotion because they have been dealing with the Mentors’ extra curricular criminal activities for far too long.

All the Mentors (excluding Livia and Arachne) being genuine ✨Besties✨ to each other since their grade school days.

Livia Cardew only calls her classmates either witches or idiots.

Festus Creed being the real ✨Dumpster Diving Capitol Rat King✨ and the best free cheesecake coupon hoarder of the century.

“Dumpster Diving for free food coupons is a common school activity, officer!”

The Academy? More like ✨The Academy of Arts✨💅.

Everyone wanting to secretly major in ✨Theatre & Drama✨.

Crazy but rich AF Sejanus Plinth and his unhealthy obsession of being Coryo Snow’s beloved boyfriend, fiancé, sugar daddy, baby daddy, and future husband.

Ma Plinth slowly becoming the food benefactor of the Mentors. #feedmeMa

Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray being the best of friends who love to sh*t talk about their boyfriends every time they meet.

Seriously, Coryo and Lucy Gray are just friends here. Everyone knows that crazy Sejanus Plinth will strangle anyone who tries to flirt with his gorgeous Snow Bae sugar baby fiancé.

Lucy Gray genuinely liking the Mentors for their chaotic ✨dramatic✨ personalities.

Sejanus Plinth shamelessly calling his darling Coryo “Babe, My love, Snow Angel, Snow Bae, Snowy, Snow Baby, Sweetheart” in front of everyone and their dogs.

The Mentors randomly coming up to Lucy Gray and asking her to sing banned songs from the early 2000s.

Strabo Plinth’s unhealthy obsession with the Snow family. Apparently, he and the ever gorgeous Crassus Snow were very close “friends” and the best “roommates” back in their military days. They were busy “stargazing” and playing with their rifles all night if you know what I mean.😏

The Grandma’am and Strabo Plinth being the true evil geniuses of the Capitol.😈

Strabo Plinth insisting Coryo to marry into his family and change their surnames to ✨The Great Plinth-Snow Dynasty✨, just because it sounds more powerful.

Coryo Snow accidentally convincing his beloved sugar daddy boyfriend (Crazy Sejanus Plinth) to become the future ✨President of Panem✨ (after Felix).

Tigris and The Grandma’am selling Coryo’s hand in marriage to the Plinth family. They genuinely believe that old man Strabo Plinth will lower the food prices if Sejanus marries Coryo for the sake of Panem.

Tigris Snow finally quitting her job (she got fired for being a weird cheese addict) and happy dancing for a whole week when she heard that her sweet little Coryo will marry into the Plinth family fortune.

Tigris, the Grandma’am, and Ma Plinth planning the ultimate ✨Snowjanus Royal Wedding of The Century✨.

The Grandma’am and evil Strabo Plinth scheming together to rule Panem and its people through ✨The Great SnowPlinth Union✨.

Ma Plinth wanting at least 5 beautiful grandchildren out of The Great SnowPlinth Union, while Strabo and the Grandma’am demanded 2 dozen (and more). #24&More

Lysistrata Vickers being the founder and President of the Capitol’s SnowPlinth/Snowjanus Official Fan Club.

Lucy Gray supporting and promising Coryo Snow that she and her Covey will sing the best banned love songs at his wedding.

Reaper Ash being labeled as the “weird one” by his fellow crazy Tributes.

Treech and Vipsania Sickle being the best gym bros for some unknown reason.

Marcus trying (and failing) to ignore the annoying existence of Sejanus Plinth.

Lysistrata Vickers having dibs as Coryo’s official ✨Maid of Honor✨. Apparently, poor cheese addict Tigris Snow was tragically outvoted by the very influential and powerful SnowPlinth/Snowjanus Fan Club members out of jealousy.🥲

Festus Creed and Tigris Snow fighting for the position of ✨Best Man✨ through an epic ✨Dance-off Battle✨💃🕺.

Apollo Ring being forced to be Coryo’s ring bearer because of his surname. Honestly, Gaius Breen and Androcles Anderson just peer pressured him for fun.

Livia Cardew planning to crash Coryo’s wedding for the expensive wine.

The Mentors and Tributes avoiding the “Arena Bomb Explosion Incident” because of Palmyra Monty’s dangerous existence.

Androcles Anderson being a proud professional kleptomaniac.

Lucky Flickerman wanting to quit his job. Apparently, the self proclaimed magic man was extremely unprepared to face and deal with the Mentors’ collective stupidity.😭

The Gamemakers forgetting to edit out Sejanus Plinth’s little arena stunt.

“Marcus was just sleeping, Sejanus! He’s still alive, you idiot Plinth! We freaking postponed the games!”

“For the last time! Don’t kiss Coriolanus Xanthos Snow on LIVE TV! There are freaking kids and dogs watching!”

Coryo and Sejanus shamelessly kissing, hugging, and being dramatic AF inside the Capitol Arena, while poor Marcus and the others are left sitting on the stands annoyed and confused AF.

Dean Casca Highbottom intentionally calling poor Coryo “Crassus Xanthos Snow” out of spite and out of regret (and because he’s still madly and deeply in love with the ever gorgeous Crassus Snow).

Drunk Highbottom living and swimming in denial since the infamous ✨#Crasca4Ever! University Breakup✨.😔

Coryo Snow successfully convincing a drunk Highbottom not to expel him by pretending to be Crassus Snow. He later regrets doing it.

Drunk!Casca not being able to correctly pronounce half all of his students’ names.

Festus Creed and Androcles Anderson receiving a lot of demerits and expulsion letters from the Dean. However, they still go to school and join their class discussions like nothing happened.

Casca Highbottom banning the Mentors from attending ✨The Academy’s Annual Students Teachers Meeting✨ (forever) because of the infamous Heavensbee Hall Flooding Incident.

Coryo Snow secretly trading his cabbages for banned music albums at the Capitol Black Market.

The banned song “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” accidentally playing on repeat inside the Capitol Arena because Felix Ravinstill forgot to detach his phone from Dr. Gaul’s master speaker.

“Snow On The Beach” stealing the top spot on the Capitol Billboard Hot 100 because of Coryo Snow and Lucy Gray’s final performance inside the Capitol Arena.

The Mentors trolling Lucky Flickerman and Lepidus Malmsey for the hundredth time.

Hilarius Heavensbee secretly collects movie records from the early 2000s. His favorite banned film is ✨Legally Blonde✨.

Io Jasper and Urban Canville being a bunch of shameless nerds who can’t properly communicate with each other.

Professor Sickle trying to convince Drunk!Casca Highbottom to give her a raise and promotion for tolerating the Mentors’ shenanigans and stupidity.

Crazy Palmyra Monty forever mentally and emotionally scarring her classmates (especially Florus Friend) with her homemade poisonous snacks.

Florus Friend fearing and avoiding Palmyra Monty’s accursed deadly bread rolls and expired sandwiches.

Felix Ravinstill being a genuine good friend and great Class President to everyone.

Dennis Fling asking poor sensitive Felix to beg for some illegal ✨Miracle Pills✨ from Lysistrata to cure Hy and Dill’s respiratory related illnesses.

Everyone knows that Persephone Price willingly ate that infamous “Maid Stew” that her father made for them to survive.

Festus Creed’s ✨PerseFest✨ agenda.

Dairy Heiress Domitia Whimsiwick fawning over Tanner’s skills and biceps.

Coral perfecting her somersault to impress the Capitol crowd and her idiot Mentor.

The Mentors pretending to be stupid whenever they attend Dr. Gaul’s class.

Dr. Gaul giving up on grooming poor Coryo Snow to become her successor because she realized that his brain doesn’t work properly whenever he’s with Sejanus.

Poor homeless Hilarius Heavensbee getting disowned and kicked out of the ✨Queen Bee Mansion✨ by his evil weirdo parents for being a loser nuisance towards his smarter and perfect younger brother.

Livia and Arachne convincing themselves that Casca Highbottom is actually Coryo Snow’s true sugar daddy.

Meanwhile, Florus Friend thinks Strabo Plinth is the real sugar daddy of poor Coryo Snow and homeless Hilarius Heavensbee.

Dr. Gaul openly wanting to strangle the Mentors for acting being stupid.

Urban Canville’s secret mission to strangle Lucky Flickerman and his annoying bird.

Felix Ravinstill being the favorite darling grandnephew son of President Gran Gran.

Festus winning the position of ✨Class Representative✨. Apparently, Creed only won because Sejanus “accidentally” locked Urban Canville inside a bathroom stall.

Persephone Price and Mizzen being the best pizza partners in crime. Somebody, these two idiots will rule all of Panem with their ruthless ✨Pizza Palace Empire✨.

Drunk!Coryo genuinely believes that Felix Ravinstill is the current President of Panem.

Drunk!Sejanus, Drunk!Coryo, Drunk!Festus, and Drunk!Lysistrata acting like shameless fools in front of their Tributes. The poor and underpaid Peacekeepers were not amused.

Festus Creed and Sejanus Plinth stripping on broad daylight because of the summer heat.

Reaper Ash praying for some normalcy and mental peace every day.

Jessup and Sheaf talking and singing with the Capitol’s “sacred” rabid raccoons and wild squirrels in order to stay sane.

Mizzen being a terrible little gremlin.

The Mentors trying to recreate The Hunger Games until ✨Panemvision✨ was born.

Livia’s own version of The Hungers Games is basically ✨Love Island✨ on crack and steroids.

Because of the awful “Love Island” idea, the rest of the Mentors had to write a serious 20 page essay on why the Hunger Games should be recreated/revamped into a true reality TV show with a “no killing, no gore, no cannibalism” policy.

The Mentors trying to convince the School Board Members, the Government Officials, and crazy President Ravinstill to change the 10th Hunger Games into a non-deadly talent show to increase viewership and sponsors.

Moreover, Coryo strongly defended the proposal by having Lucy Gray successfully sing in front of a live audience (again) on TV. Billy Taupe was the only one who got offended (again).

Meanwhile, the rest of the Mentors also convinced their Tributes to show off their talents that same day. That was Reaper’s 2nd worst day of the week.😂

Dean Highbottom only supported the proposal because it reminded him of his wild karaoke clubbing days with his drop dead gorgeous lover. You know who it was.😏 #Crasca4Ever #crassusmylove #SnowBottom

Clemensia Dovecote also backs their weird essays by simply stating that killing children will only make the Districts hate the Capitol more. However, if they provide “real entertainment” without the violence, then the Districts might warm up to them.

In addition, Sejanus proposed that the winner of the contest will be made a ✨STAR of PANEM✨! 🤩

And as the ✨Star of Panem✨, he/she will be given monetary support and a lifetime supply of cabbages and lima beans by the Capitol.

Meanwhile, the losers will only get 10 boxes of pizza, 2 gallons of orange soda, one body bag of sandwiches (made by Ma Plinth) as a reward for “willingly” participating.

Juno Phipps then added a “rule” stating that no Tribute shall be punished (or killed) because the losers must live and remember their humiliation on television for the rest of their lives.😈

Coryo and Clemmie also proposed that each Tribute must have a Prep Team and Stylist to make them presentable for Lucky Flickerman’s Late Night Show with Jubilee.

Finally, Felix Ravinstill and Dennis Fling closed their arguments by stating: “That being forced to sing and perform ON STAGE and on LIVE TV, which could be replayed over and over again, even after death, especially for Tributes who couldn’t save their own pride and dignity for all of Panem to remember, is the worst punishment one could freely give to one’s enemy. They won’t even be allowed to forget how they had wronged you.”

After hearing the Mentors’ closing argument, Dr. Gaul was ready to end it all and commit bloody murder in front of everyone.😡🔪

But after some deliberation, President Ravinstill (and his puppies) approved the Mentors’ proposal and changed the Hungers Games into the ✨HGASC✨ (Hunger Games: Annual Singing Contest).

However, the Grandma’am and Strabo Plinth insisted that they should just officially call it ✨PANEMVISION✨.

Meanwhile, Dr. Gaul tried to persuade President Ravinstill (again) to reconsider the Mentors’ stupid proposals.

However, she was outvoted by both the School Board Committee and the Capitol’s highest ranking government officials, just because everyone (but her) wanted to see what “true entertainment” really looks like on screen.

Livia Cardew even defended everyone’s ideas nonstop because, according to her, there was a lack of spicy entertainment in the Capitol. Damn the rules! This is the Capitol! We want ✨Love Island✨ type of dramas! Where are the ✨Real Housewives of Corso✨?! F*ck the Hunger Games! Give us the 90 Day Fiancé from the Districts!

And that’s how the Mentors “accidentally” ended the Hunger Games and gave birth to the most popular and craziest reality TV show in the weird history of Panem.

As for every Quarter Quell, let’s just say, it’s gonna be a true ✨SHOW STOPPER✨!

The first ✨HGASC/PANEMVISION✨ Quarter Quell will have the Mentors reap kids from both Capitol and District. Afterwards, one District Tribute will be paired with one Capitol Tribute to perform a special duet act (whether they like it or not).

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doll-elvis · 1 year ago

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have you ever read child bride by suzanne finstead? do you find it accurate.

thank you very much for this ask ꨄ︎!!

I have indeed read "Child Bride” and as for its’ accuracy I wouldn't go as far to say it's entirely inaccurate but I do have several bones to pick with Suzanne Finstad as a biographer as I believe she has let her bias (obviously not liking Priscilla) get in the way of her better judgment, which in turn, has corrupted the overall validity of her book. For example, giving Currie Grant a platform to tell his version of events regarding Elvis and Priscilla in Germany, including a claim so egregious that I truly have trouble understanding why so many in this fandom praise this book 😭

I think a lot of Elvis fans consider/recommend “Child Bride” as the antithesis to Priscilla’s “Elvis and Me” which is fair considering Finstad highlights some very valid criticisms against Priscilla i.e her hiring a second, much more aggressive, lawyer to get more money out of Elvis, and her introducing her family (Lisa Marie and later on Navarone) to the “church” aka cult of Scientology etc. etc.

- however -

The book as a whole comes at the expense of Elvis and what I mean by that is that Suzanne Finstad is not someone who has his best interest at heart (I mean look at what she has said in some of these recents documentaries about Elvis) and in order to push her narrative that Priscilla was some fourteen-year-old s*xual deviant, she has made some incredibly inflammatory statements about their relationship, and it literally starts with the title of her book (referring to Priscilla as Elvis’ “child bride”)

And the main reason as to why I cannot comprehend how fans praise this book is that Finstad goes with the story that Currie Grants tells, which includes him saying that Elvis (24) and Priscilla (14) were having penetrative intercourse after their 3rd or 4th date ⬇️

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

So this is why I tend to cringe when I see other fans praise this book… I know it’s not their intention but they are inadvertently promoting a falsehood that says Elvis was committing statutory r*pe against a fourteen year old Priscilla

Not only does that go against what Priscilla and others have said about the physical relationship she had with Elvis in Germany, but it goes against the pattern that Elvis followed for almost every single (long-term) relationship prior to Priscilla and even after

A girl that Elvis deemed “special” or in other words- good enough to marry- was not a girl that Elvis was going to have penetrative s*x with, especially not when he had the more worldly starlets of Hollywood and the showgirls of Germany and Paris at his disposal

PRISCILLA PRESLEY: “In the past, he said that he wanted a virgin (to marry)”

DEBRA PAGET: “He always said he’d marry a virgin”

LAMAR FIKE: “Elvis respected virginity. He used to tell Alan, “I’ll never break a virgin. There are too many whores around”

We saw this with Dixie Locke, we saw this with June Juanico and Anita Wood, all of whom, in their many years of dating him never had penetrative s*x

We even saw this with women like Linda Thompson and Ginger Alden who he waited several months with before consummating

So because of that I have an incredibly hard time believing that Elvis would abandon his morals after just 3 or 4 dates with Priscilla, especially when he was having s*x with age appropriate girls like Elizabeth Mansfield, who often took Priscilla’s place in Elvis’ bed after she left

Another issue I have with “Child Bride” is that she has often either misquoted people, or written things that contradict what they have said to other biographers- basically many things haven’t added up when cross referencing between books

I have mentioned this one before but it is just so blatant, that I feel compelled to mention it again ⬇️

So here we have Joe Esposito re-telling a throwaway comment about Priscilla made by Elvis

excerpt is from “Good Rockin’ tonight” by Joe Esposito

And then here we have Suzanne Finstad’s retelling of that comment, where she has misquoted Esposito in order to make Priscilla out to be the s*xual aggressor

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

Instances like this give me extreme pause when determining if a biographer could be trusted or not- and when I was reading through her book again this comment about Sheila Ryan nearly made me bust out laughing

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

“Sheila never had an orgasm when she was with Elvis”… like are we talking about the same Sheila Ryan or-? ⬇️

excerpt is from “Baby let’s play house” by Alanna Nash

All in all, “Child Bride” definitely makes for an interesting read (mainly the second half of the book) but it’s one that I will probably never pick up again as I cannot get over Currie Grant’s involvement, especially his claims about Priscilla and Elvis that are completely unfounded

Scandal sells quite frankly and I no longer underestimate what people will say for money, ESPECIALLY when it comes to Elvis- I mean look at the claims made by Dee Stanley who got a whopping $100,000 from the National Enquirer to tell stories about a woman she never even met (Gladys)

So I would not be surprised in the least if Currie has been handsomely compensated for selling his stories to biographers like Finstad, because again, scandal sells, and him approaching Priscilla first isn’t nearly as page-turning as Priscilla offering up s*x in order to meet Elvis

#this one is a doozy #suzanne finstad really wrote that about our girl sheila #bffr #thank you again for the ask!#elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis asks #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #elvis books #elvis photos #suzanne finstad #priscilla presley

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clownprincehoeshi · 4 months ago

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PARALLEL HEARTS- CHAPTER 8

Synopsis: Never in your wildest dreams you imagined that you’ll meet your ult bias. But it seems that the universe really loves you this time. Will Jeon Jungkook notice you?

Pairing: fem reader x ?idol

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: for all chapters-Kissing-Nudity-Sex 18+-Stalking-Harrassment-Cheating-Death mentions Minors don’t interact!

Word count: 4704

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Don't forget rebloging is important and much apreciated! <3

Of course headache was your best friend the next day

Y/N: Fucking hell, I drank so much. Why did you let me do it? Some friends I have.

Hana: But it was really funny watching you drunk. And you’re a good drunk, fun, friendly, funny, clingy. Just like someone else I know.

Y/N: Shut uuup! I need water and pills.

Hana: Let’s get out of bed first, drink water, take something for the headache and get ready. We’re having breakfast out. I know a new cute place that opened.

Y/N: Damn, are you like a city tour guide but for places you can eat and hang out? I never ever in my life had went out this much as I have since I met you.

Hana: You love it though, even if you’re such an introvert.

Y/N: Hehe, you caught me.

You two were out in no time, holding hands and walking quietly towards the breakfast place.

When you got there, everything was in shades of pink and white. Really cute, you thought. You ordered some delicious sandwiches and pancakes, along with some cocoa-milk.

Y/N: Am I in heaven now? What is going on, how did I die?

Hana: It’s so good, right?

Y/N: Huh! Yah-huh. It’s so ridiculous. I need to bring the guys here.

Hana: You know, I was thinking that I miss the ’97 crew get together and we all know what happened and how we kind of stopped doing our regular dinners. I really miss hanging out with my cousin like that and it’s the only time when I get to see him, with him being so busy. SO..

Y/H: Babe, you can meet them if you want, I don’t mind.

Hana: What if JK or Mingyu are there? I really don’t want to speak to them, especially fucking Jungkook.

Y/N: Well, I don’t know. I guess you can just ignore him? And you can be friendly with Gyu, he’s not horrible. And the rest of the guys are all right.

Hana: You think JK and Mingyu talk?

Y/N: Not sure. Last time I saw them, they were not on good terms, and Gyu thinks JK is my stalker. But you never know, they were really good friends before I showed up.

Hana: Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’ll see, I will come with gossip though.

Y/N: Come on, let’s head home. Tomorrow we’ll have a really busy day at work with all those meetings and planning.

Hana: I really think they’ll announce we got the Seventeen project.

Y/N: I don’t know if I’m excited about it.

Next day comes around and it was like Hana said. Your company got the new Seventeen project. You’ll be working close with them for their new album and world tour. One whole year of touring all over the world, wow. They gotten really big.

Hana: Look, they have a bunch of concerts in Europe. We should definitely go to some. We might need to be there with the staff anyways for the stage, settings and styling. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?

Y/N: I mean… I guess. I would see him too much for my liking, but things maybe will be better by then. The company will sure send a team to some of the venues for sure.

This was unexpected. You knew how things worked in this business. If you worked with an artist and they had concerts, your company needed to send people there. At least I’ll travel.

Weeks of intensive work followed. Planning and preparations, filming, shootings. Mingyu came back from his hiatus and when you met on the set or in meetings you kept it short and civilised.

They had their comeback now and album promotions. Some tv shows here and there, some live performances. You were there with your team for most of them. Tour was right around the corner and you felt pretty excited.

You, Hana and 3 other people from your company were supposed to be with the group in most of the locations. You never travelled so much and you couldn’t wait for it. All those cities, all that culture and history. You were always fascinated by it.

The day of the departure was here. You woke up at 2 am to get ready. You had 2 big suitcases filled with clothes and personal stuff. You made yourself look pretty and presentable, you will be flying together with the members and some of the staff.

Most of the other staff were already at the location. First stop, L.A. You’ve never been to the US and you were shitting your pants right now.

The airport was crazy, filled with fans, photographs, journalists, staff, suitcases on top of suitcases. This was crazy.

The company finally got a private plane for the boys, they became too successful now and they really need privacy more than ever. No more crazy fans stalking them into their flights wherever they went.

Plane took off and in no time the crew brought breakfast for everyone. You sat next to Hana and in front of you were Jun and Minghao.

Jun: Well this is going to be a long ass flight, so we should eat and sleep.

Minghao: You’re always sleeping.

Y/N: He’s a cat, of course he sleeps a lot.

Minghao: BTW, Y/N, I am really happy to have you with us on this tour.

Y/N: Oh? Why?

Minghao: You’re the only one that doesn’t get shy when I flirt with them.

Y/N: You don’t know that, maybe I get shy but I hide it really well.

Minghao: Naaahh, I know you. Not even a small blush on your cheeks and you never fluster, you always have a comeback. I like you.

Jun: Whoah, what the hell man? You trying to seduce my bestie right in front of my croissant?

You all started my laugh at Jun’s face, he was stuffing his mouth with croissants, barely able to form coherent words, crumbs falling in the air.

You could see Mingyu over Jun’s shoulder, looking your way. He was smiling, but his eyes were sad. You thought your feelings for him were not as strong. You were even sure you were not in love with him anymore, you were not feeling sad when you saw him now. You were not feeling that punch in your stomach, knowing he was not yours anymore.

Finally, things felt normal. And you thought Jungkook moved on too, since the stalking ended. No weird messages or phone calls in the middle of the night, no more dark shadows following you. Things were good.

Things were really good.

Minghao: So how’s your love life lately, Y/N?

Y/N: You trying to make me choke on my food?

Minghao: Why? That bad?

Y/N: Let’s say I am content with being single for the rest of my life.

Jun: See what I mean? She acts like an old fart and she’s not even 30 yet. I keep telling her that love will hit her in the face so hard she won’t be able to say no.

Minghao: Come ooon Y/N! Why are you being so stubborn?

Y/N: Why Hao. Might you have a proposal for me? You like me, like me? You wanna wine and dine me?

Minghao: I would if I were single.

Y/N: You have a girlfriend?

Minghao: Yeah, it’s recent. We’re trying to see if we’re compatible, not rushing anything.

Y/N: Awww, that’s sweet, I’m happy for you, really.

Minghao: And here I thought you wanted to date me.

Hana: Hahaha, no. She loves to flirt, plus she likes someone else.

All 3 of you looked at her in shock, as if you saw a ghost.

Jun: What did you just say?

Y/N: How much did you drink already?

Out of nowhere, Seungkwan appeared.

Seungkwan: Who likes who? I need to know.

Jun: I can’t believe you have been keeping a crush secret from me? You bestie?

Hana: She won’t admit it. But I know. I see everything.

Seungkwan: Y/N! Please, you need to tell us. Do we know the guy? Is he cute?

You rolled your eyes at all of this. Everyone curious, asking questions. DK came too, also curious about your crush. You could also see Vernon looking at you, waiting to hear a name.

But most of all, you could see Mingyu looking right into your soul. He looked so disappointed, no more smile on his face, just all seriousness.

You felt small and ashamed. If you liked someone, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s business. And your ex should not be present at this conversation.

In fact, you don’t even know if you like that person or not. You promised yourself you won’t fall in love again, that you’re done with men.

You don’t know what you feel and you surely don’t want to talk about it.

Scoups: What’s going on, why all the fuss there?

DK: Y/N has a crush and she won’t say his name!!!

You saw Mingyu standing up, heading towards the restrooms. And while walking he said: Come on, guys, you’re being annoying. If she wants to tell you who it is, she will. Now leave her be!

You covered your face with both hands, making yourself small in your chair. Thank heavens for Kim Mingyu who rescued you once again. You start to think he might be an angel.

Minghao: Mingyu is right, we’re making her uncomfortable.

Hana: Oh! My bad, I thought it will be funny.

And she wraps her arms around you to apologise. Yup, she’s drunk, you can feel the soju from a mile.

Jun: Let’s go, Y/N, finish your food. You barely touched it. And we’ll talk later, ok?

He takes your hand and gives it a squeeze, along with a bright smile.

Y/N: You always know what to say, Juni.

You get back to your eggs and avocado and while lifting your glass to drink some water, you slowly move your head to your left and you see a very zoned out Hoshi looking at you.

You choke on the water straight away and start coughing. Hana part you on the back and asks if you’re ok, which you nod yes.

After everyone finished with their food, was time to sleep. All lights were turned off, seats reclined. You grabbed your blanket and tried to get some rest. Whenever you heard noises or people walking by, you opened your eyes. And every time you did that, you could see Mingyu looking at you.

Why is he doing this? Just go to sleep, let me be. I don’t want to remember stuff and don’t want to feel something for him again. I know that look, I know what he’s doing.

So your turn on your side to not have him in your line of vision anymore. But now you’re faced with a really adorable human hamster that’s asleep. Those puffy cheeks and that pretty pout makes you smile.

Mingyu catches that and it makes him sad, seeing he’s not the one that makes you smile like that. You’re a fool, Kim Mingyu. Someone will take her from you for good, and that might happen faster than you think.

This flight felt like a week. You couldn’t wait to get to your destination and get to work, to get your mind away from…stuff.

After the landing, the staff got out first, and went towards the exit and the company cars that were waiting. The members got out last and received a mini bus for their ride to the hotel.

The company had rented a few floors of the hotel and brough extra security. No strangers were allowed to get to the floor where you were all staying.

The rest of the day was for a quick meeting with everyone to let them know the schedule for tomorrow, then free time. Jun texted you after the meeting.

Jun: Hey, pookie! Let’s have some takeout in Hoshi’s room in one hour. He’ll order some Japanese and Italian, we’ll have plenty of food. Bring Hana too. Room 504.

Y/N: Ok, Juni.

Y/H: Wife, we’re having dinner with the guys in one hour.

Hana: Ok, I’ll get out from the shower in 10.

Ou rush to pick some cute comfy clothes to wear. Hana come out of the shower and sees you’re trying to pick an outfit. You already have a pair or sweatpants and a t shirt.

Hana: Girl, no! You want to be sexy too, not just homeless. Keep the pants, take this deep neck top. He’ll drool.

Y/N: Who?

Hana stops and looks at you straight in the eyes.

Hana: Drop the act. I know and you know who I’m talking about. You like him.

Y/N: No I don’t!

Hana: Just wear this and shut up. And if you don’t wanna tell me right now fine, but you will speak soon.

You try to drop the conversation, you really just wanna focus on work while on this tour, not on boys.

One hour later you’re in Hoshi’s room. There’s also Jun, Hao, Wonu and Joshua.

Hoshi: We have cola, soju and beer. What do you girls want?

Hana: We’ll have soju and beer.

You sit at the big table that they moved in the middle of the room and grab a plate. Jun tells you to try some pasta, because it seems it’s delicious and you love pasta.

When you take your look away from Jun and look at your plate, Hoshi is putting some pasta on it, along with some sushi.

Y/N: Oh..thanks.

He lifts his face and gives you a bright smile, smiling with his whole face.

The food is really good and the soju goes smoothly with it. You feel a little tipsy. You see Joshua with red cheeks, he must be a bit drunk already. Hana is getting there too.

Hana leans in to whisper into your ear: Damn, how are all these guys so freaking hot? How do you do it? Now falling for one of them each day.

Y/N: Keep your voice down, silly, and stop perving.

Hana: OK, but I only promise I won’t perv over your man.

You pinch her thigh and she squeaks loud, making you laugh at the funny sound.

Joshua: What are you girls whispering there? Are you talking about boys?

Hana: In fact, yes. We are.

Joshua: Uuuhh, do tell. I love me some boys gossip from my girls.

Y/N: Hana, stop it, they don’t need to know every thought that’s going trough your mind when you’re drunk, and btw, have you been drunk all day?

Joshua: I know! Let’s play a game!

Hana: Yeeeeeesss!

Wonu: What game, Shua?

Joshua: Ok, it’s important we keep it real and honest, ok? So we take turns, I will ask the person on my right a question. They can answer or they need to take a shot.

Wonu: Ok, let’s do it. I have nothing to hide.

Hoshi: Sure, why not.

Joshua: Ok, I will start then. Hao, are you in love with your girlfriend?

Hao: Umm…not yet. But getting there, me thinks. Wonu, what’s the most annoying thing your roommate Mingyu did in your apartment?

Wonu: Ugh, don’t get me started. He’s always so clumsy, but one time he dropped my phone inside his soup bowl.

Josua: Ok, we’re on a good track here, but let’s keep it interesting, yeah? Wonu, your turn.

Wonu: Hoshi, when are you going to tell your crush you like her?

All it can be heard is “whaat” and “uh”.

Minghao: Well now this is news. Since when and why didn’t I know?

Hoshi: Guys, it’s nothing. Wonu is exaggerating.

Wonu: But answer the question though!

Hoshi looks at his hands, then yells all of a sudden: I don’t know, ok?

Joshua: Omg, my little brother likes a girl. I’m happy, Hosh, about time. It’s been so long since…you know.

Hoshi: Yeah yeah, let’s move on. Jun, have you ever thought about being more than friends with Y/N?

Jun looks at him scandalised, opens his mouth in the shape of O and puts his hand over his chest.

Jun: My God, that’s so inappropriate to think about my sister. My bestie. Nooo. Buuut, we made a pact that if when we’re 40 and single, we’ll just marry each other. Now my dear friend Y/N, light of my eyes, kimchi in my rice. I have a really really important question for you.Do I know your crush?

Y/N: Why is everyone so obsessed about my love life?

Minghao: You have a love life?

Y/N: No.

Jun: Come on, bestie, tell me. Or you wanna drink?

Joshua: Let me voice my opinion here. After much thinking, I came to the conclusion that if you drink, it means Jun knows your crush. So either way, it’s better to answer.

Y/N: What a nice guy are you, Josh.

Joshua gives the biggest closed mouth smile ever, he knows he caught you.

Y/N: Ok, Jun. You know the guy. Happy now?

Jun: Yes and no, because now I am fucking curious.

Hana: Let’s continue the game, I wanna play too.

Y/N: Hana, do you like any guy from this room?

Hana: Fuck, am I allowed to say I like all of them?

Joshua: You say what you want, boo.

Hana: Awww Joshua called me boo. Now Josh, are you maybe looking for a girlfriend?

Everyone started laughing at how obviously flirty Hana was with Josh.

Wonu: What about the rest of us, Hana? You forgot us so fast?

Hana: Oh, sorry, Wonu. I can have more than one boyfriend. Nobody is left behind.

You get up on your feet and announce you feel sleepy and will head out to your room and you probably need to drag Hana with you, since she’s too drunk.

Also, you’re afraid of more of these questions that you don’t want to answer and also you don’t want to drink yourself under the table.

You said good night to the guys and headed to your room you shared with Hana. You decided you’re both to drunk to shower, so you changed into pj’s and got into bed. You’ll shower in the morning.

Next day you had breakfast in the room and then you were ready for work.

You needed to be at the stadium where they will perform for 2 days in a row. The set needed to be perfect. Meanwhile, the boys have the net 2 days packed with shootings and live shows and interviews.

2 shows down, 4 more to go in the US, then off to Brazil and Argentina. Days were passing really fast, since work meant around 10 hours a day. You got to spend time with the guys rarely, everyone was tired at the end of the day and wanted to just relax in bed and sleep.

You had a little break once in Europe. You arrived in Spain first and most of the members and staff decided to spend their one week break here. The weather was perfect and you had beach.

It was your first time in this country and you just wanted to see the architecture, the art, taste the food and visit some national parks and wildlife.

You were with Jun the night when you arrived in Barcelona and you were trying to decide your week plan, while taking a walk to the beach that was close to the hotel.

Jun: I think we should stick together. At least the two of us and probably Hana won’t want to leave you and go with someone else.

Y/N: True. But who else will join us?

Jun: I think Hao will chose to stay in the city and do nothing, he wants to chill. Jeonghan probably the same. Dk and Wonu I am sure they said they wanna visit the city and take photos. Mingyu might join them, don’t know. Woozi will probably stay inside most of the time, he’s really tired. Vernon for sure will come with us, he likes to learn new stuff. Are you brother and sister?

Y/N: We might be. Ok, so we are 4 so far.

Jun: I’ll ask the others tonight and will let the managers know how many we will be for the little excursion, because we will need a van or minibus. Take some clothes with you and stuff you need for a few days.

In the morning, you take your little suitcase and rush for the elevator. Hana is already in the minibus in front of the hotel. When you enter the bus, all the chairs are filled, except one in the back.

Hoshi: Here, I saved the seat for you!

He gets up to help you with your luggage and then you sit down. Today you’re going to a remote beach in a small village. You’ll visit wineries, olive trees and will rent a house on the beach and spend the next 2 days there.

You see Hoshi barely keeping his eyes open, he must be very tired.

Y/N: Here, use my pillow and you can lay down here, our seats are wide enough. I’ll put the pillow in my lap, ok?

Hoshi: Really? Would you do that for me?

Y/N: Of course, why wouldn’t I?

He just shrugs and puts his head on the pillow in your lap and tried to sleep. The drive will take around 2 hours.

He falls asleep quite fast. Meanwhile, you don’t know what to do with your hands. Should you put them over his shoulder? You look at his face and he looks so peaceful and so pretty and your right hand goes to move a strand of hair off his face. Then you keep it over his head, petting him gently.

Your left arm goes over his shoulder, kind of like keeping him safe. It feels nice, you admit to yourself. You see Jun turning his face over his shoulder to look at you and his eyes go big at the scene.

He looks at you for a few moments and then he nods with a serious look on his face. What does he mean with that? This guy is weird, I swear.

You had fallen asleep too, you can just sleep anywhere, anytime and in any position. When you wake up, your arm is wrapped around Hoshi’s torso, he’s laying on his back now. His both hands are holding onto your arm for dear life.

You decide to wake him up since you heard the other say you’re going to arrive in 10 minutes.

Y/N: Soonyoungie!

You whisper softly close to his face.

He whines a little, not wanting to wake up.

Y/N: Come on, Soony, it’s time to wake up. We are almost there.

He pouts, eyes still closed.

Hoshi: But it’s so nice here.

Y/N: Yeah, that’s why you need to wake up to admire the view.

Hoshi: Here. It’s nice here.

He says, as he pulls on your arm tighter around him.

Oh.

Is he saying it’s nice here with me? Like this?

Then he opens his eyes and looks at you, smiling so adorably. In seconds, he lifts himself from your lap, thanking for letting him sleep and taking care of him.

He really left you speechless, and this is not something that ever happened with him. You don’t know what to say, it’s like the cat got your tongue. You just stare at him.

Hoshi: What? Do I have sleep marks on my face?

Y/N: NO, it’s nothing.

You really needed to move your eyes away from that adorable face so you opted to look over the windows and admire the scenery outside.

You reached a small road between olive trees and you could see a white house at the end. You got off the car, took your suitcases and went inside.

Driver: This is a family house we rent to tourists. Has 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, pool in the backyard, garden, a big grill, everything you need. You reach the beach with 10 steps. The sunrise is really beautiful here. See you in 2 days!

It was easy to reach anywhere in the village, it was small and you would just walk for a few minutes.

Seungkwan: Let’s choose the rooms. We are 7, and we have 4 rooms. One person will sleep alone. Any takers?

Jun: Yes, please!

Seungkwan: I guess the girls will have one room and they can choose first. The boys will play rock paper scissors like usual. I’ll share a room with Vernoni

Joshua: And that leaves me and my bro Hosh. Nice!

You and Hana choose the pretties room that has a beach view. You go to inspect the property and you see they even have some gym equipment, a big ass tv in the living room, and outside they have a veggie garden.

You open the gate that takes you to the beach and start walking towards it. It’s been a while since you’ve had your feet in the sand.

You think it’s beautiful and you think Hao would have loved it here, for his meditation and tea ceremony.

You hear steps behind and Jun’s voice.

Jun: There you are. Wow, isn’t this place paradise? It’s just your style.

Y/N: You’re right, it’s how I would live forever. I feel so happy now that I could cry.

You sit there on the sand for a few minutes, listening to the waves and the birds.

Jun: He’s the best guy I know.

You look at him confused, trying to figure out who is he talking about. But then you know.

Y/N: Why are you telling me this?

Jun: You know why. You have doubts. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s something. But it’s better to let it be something than to regret it after it can’t be anything. You don’t need to push yourself to feel or to act on it. Just let it happen. If it will happen. But. He really is the best, in case you had doubts about that. He’s genuine, honest, kind and passionate. If something is to happen, know that he has a lot of love to give. Maybe too much, and it can overwhelm the wrong person. He's been trough some shit with his ex, since then he just shut himself just like you. But I see something there.

You look at Jun and he can see your eyes are glassy. He just leans over and hugs you.

Jun: It’s going to be ok, you’ll see.

Y/N: What if it’s not?

Jun: Then I’ll still be here for you to help you get up. That’s what we do, always try.

Y/N: I love you, you’re the best!

Jun: Love you too! Let’s go inside, they started cooking, I think it might even be ready by now.

Reaching the house, everyone is doing something to help with the cooking or setting up the table.

Y/N: Where is Vernon?

Joshua: He might be sleeping.

Seungkwan: Yeah, he went upstairs to the bedroom.

Y/N: What are you guys making?

Johua: We are making some kimchi fried rice and we also have some pork belly.

Y/N: Ok, I’ll make some salad.

You go into the garden to pick up some veggies for your salad. On your way there you bump into Hoshi and he stops and looks at you suspiciously.

Hoshi: Have you been crying?

Y/N: Why?

Hoshi: Your eyes are red and glassy. Are you ok?

Y/N: I’m fine, just had a chat with Jun at the beach.

Hoshi: Did he say something to upset you?

Y/N: Nooo. Do you know Jun? ha!

He comes closer and hugs you. He hugs you so tight that it feels like you’ll stick like that forever. It’s like he knew what you needed. A hug.

And you wrap your arms around him and hug him back. You stay there for a minute, until you realise where you are and what you’re doing and you pull away.

Hoshi: Where were you going?

Y/N: To pick up veggies from the garden.

Hoshi: Ok, I am in charge of the grill. You’ll be ok, yeah?

You nod and you walk towards the garden with your heart beating 1000 miles/hour.

#seventeen fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts x reader #bts fanfic #kim mingyu #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #cha eunwoo #jaehyun #hoshi x reader #hoshi #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #jungkook smut

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al-astakbar · 10 months ago

Text

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆part 8/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [4.3k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ sex, mentions of anal sex, mild degradation/humiliation > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

> series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7 ☆ part 8 ☆ part 9 ☆ part 10

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

“What will it take to break you in, I wonder?” The Grand Admiral muses one evening. He likes you bent over and exposed, and usually his desk is the most convenient option. So that’s where you are now.

He paces around, in and out of your field of vision, his hands clasped behind his back. You had watched him on the bridge today, where he had commanded the Chimaera through a quick skirmish with pirates, with much the same pose.

“To get you nice and willing and open for me… soon you will wait for me, bent over my desk… when you hear the hatch open, you’ll reach back and spread yourself open for me.” He pauses a moment, and then gives you an order, his voice like silk. “Do it now. Show me.”

You obey a little too quickly, and when he speaks again, you recognize amusement in his voice. “Good. Very good…” your name on his lips should not sound so good, should not have such sway over your self-control.

You hear the click of his boot heels stop just behind you. “Wider.”

A hot wave of humiliation courses through you, makes your clit pulse. You do it, knowing he can see everything.

Thrawn gives a ‘hmm’. “Such a lovely cunt. You’re wet, I see, but It has been some time since you were gifted to me and I still have not felt you cum. Or should I say, you have not let yourself cum.”

It is a sign of just how much he’s in your head that you barely protest the indignity of such a statement. You don’t even try to get up. “I don’t owe you that.”

“No, you don’t. But… are you happy to simply be of use?” He puts an obscene twist on the phrase that sends another shiver of desire down your spine. Yes, there is something dark in your psyche that being of use to Thrawn appeals to.

Your body gives you away, and perceptive as he is, he misses nothing. “You want more.” He trails one gloved finger over your skin, across your hip, too lightly up the line of your wetness. You can’t suppress a needy moan, and his touch lingers where he finds your desperation most transparent.

“I’ll fuck your ass soon. You’ll need to get used to taking my cock there. You have a tight, pretty little hole, it would be a shame not to fuck it. You like that idea.” His tone is soft, and suggestive. Dangerously close to convincing you of… whatever he wants. “Yes… you do. You like to think of me pushing in slowly. Using your body in ways you had never considered, all to give you pleasure.”

When you only manage an incoherent sound, he prompts you with a light brush of his finger over your asshole. “I expect an answer…”

But you can’t give him one. At least, not one that’s honest. And unfortunately, the Grand Admiral can read you much too well for comfort.

You hear the sound of fabric, and then he takes you over his desk, the second time that day. He climaxes with a low, muted groan that makes you weak. Another hit to your resolve that nearly tips you over the edge to follow him.

Afterwards, he cleans you up, and instructs you to dress.

“Where are we going?”

The wardroom, he says.

The whole way there, he tolerates your questions. Why and Will there be anyone else there and Can I eat dinner there and Can you walk slower?

“I thought you would enjoy having a meal with some new company. You may, of course, remove your veil, if you wish.” And he slows his long-legged strides just enough for you to catch up. For a moment, you think he’s about to offer you his arm, to escort you like a gentleman would a lady. Somehow such a courteous gesture from him wouldn’t surprise you. You have to remind yourself that you wouldn’t accept it. But at the same time, your pussy is still pink and swollen and every lust-driven instinct is urging you closer to him. Despite the lingering, unsated arousal, you still have that nice, warm, just-been-fucked feeling and you hope desperately that no one can tell. Thrawn can, of course. He gives you a dryly amused look, and asks why you need to slow down-- “are you having trouble walking?”

You glare at him, and tell him under your breath that you can still feel his cum leaking out of you. “It’s making my legs sticky.”

He smiles, but apologizes. “I should have been more thorough. Perhaps next time I’ll have to lick you clean. Would you like that?”

You want to answer that by elbowing him, because it would be too embarrassing to say ‘yes, please’.

He leads you out of the more narrow, labyrinthine corridors until you reach one of the main passageways. The change of scenery lifts your spirits a bit, and you look around with renewed energy and focus. You expect that normally you’d find some random hallway unremarkable but after days of the exact same two locations, the same route, anything different is interesting.

This one is brightly-lit and wide, and you and Thrawn pass several officers who all acknowledge their commander with a crisp ‘good evening, sir’.

At the entrance of the officers’ mess, he opens the door for you, puts his hand at the small of your back and ushers you through.

Inside are maybe fifty officers seated around tables in an expansive dining room. Droids move among the tables, serving platters of food and taking away dirty dishes. Some of the officers look around when you and Thrawn come in, and move to get up. One of them looks ready to call attention on deck before Thrawn holds up his hand.

“Keep your seats, please.” Evidently this is the one place on the ship where Imperial military formality is somewhat relaxed.

Thrawn takes you over to one table at which there are a few empty seats, and pulls out a chair for you.

You look up at him, murmur a quiet ‘thank you, sir’. He takes his own seat to your right, and to your left, you’re both dismayed and excited to realize, is Assistant Director Ronan. Thrawn’s reminder that you need not wear your veil had been tempting, but now you definitely won’t risk showing your face. Not with Ronan right next to you. He’d probably try to send a holo to the Emperor to snitch on you.

After a brief lull, the conversations pick up again. Several of Thrawn’s bridge officers are also seated around this table-- you recognize Commodore Faro, as well as two other women, the weapons officer Pyrondi and the chief sensors officer Hammerly. The comms officer Lomar is joking over a printed word puzzle in the ship’s daily newsletter with another officer you recognize but don’t know by name. The youngest person at the table is the helmsman, Lieutenant Agral. He looks rather shocked to be seated directly next to his commanding officer, and keeps glancing over at Thrawn and offering to refill his water glass, which Thrawn hasn’t touched once.

They talk of the events of the day, and the latest ship gossip, training evolutions, and who scored highest on the pistol qualification, complaints about the droids not pressing their uniforms properly. It’s one thing seeing them do their jobs, but another seeing them like this— eating, chatting, joking around. It all seems so normal.

You stay quiet, picking little pieces of your food and secreting them under your veil to eat. Why Thrawn thought this would be enjoyable for you, you don’t know. Even covered, you feel awfully exposed and out of place, unable to join any conversations since none of them bother to address you directly.

“The food isn’t bad, is it.”

You look over in surprise. Ronan takes a delicate bite of some succulent plant.

You stare at him for a moment, wondering if he was actually talking to you. A moment ago he had been debating one of the bridge officers about the importance of locally indigenized production of TIE avionics.

Now he nods to your plate, which is piled with a bounty of food. To Thrawn’s credit, he hadn’t been lying when he said he ate the same as his crew. This is all similar to the meals you’ve eaten in his quarters, except there is no wine on the table.

“Fresh vegetables and fruit. I’ve no idea how they supply the whole ship with it, let alone the fleet.”

You find your voice. “Do they, though? Down on the enlisted mess decks, they all get this too?”

“Of course they do,” he says crisply, and that settles the matter.

For a moment, you’re stuck on what to say. This could be your chance, your only chance to speak at length with the one person who might have an interest in getting you off this ship. You have to say something. Even if it sounds naive and servile and completely false to your ear. “… is this your first time on a ship like this? I mean, a big one.”

Ronan scoffs. “Certainly not. In my work for the Director— Director Krennic, that is— I’ve had the distinct privilege of touring many Imperial vessels, a few even more grand than this.”

This is the sort of conversation you had expected as a companion, before you had met Thrawn and had to reevaluate everything you thought you knew about Imperials. Ronan fits the mold, though, so well he seems like a caricature. A self important wind bag, bragging about his connections and deeply, deeply concerned for his public image. By now, you’ve heard the name Director Krennic many times, and had even asked Thrawn about it. But it’s more fun to say “who?” and watch Ronan turn red in the face.

You slip a look at Thrawn. He gives you the subtlest smirk, his eyes glittering, before returning his attention to the other conversation.

After Ronan finishes a fawning review of Director Krennic’s accomplishments, he’s able to compose himself somewhat. “But you must feel very lucky to have secured a position with a Grand Admiral,” he picks up. “How did you manage it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Lucky?” You repeat, unable to keep disbelief out of your voice.

“I should say so. When you were selected, I’m sure you didn’t imagine… well, any of this.” He sniffs, looking around the table, and you don’t miss how his lip curls as his gaze slides over Thrawn.

“No,” you say carefully. “It’s been quite comfortable so far, at least compared to our accommodations on Coruscant.”

“Well, they can’t make it too easy. Then everyone would want to do it. Still, it’s a rather short, easy path to join such esteemed company.”

If that’s what he really thinks— that you’re some social climber who volunteered for this-- that any of this has been easy for you-- you dig your nails into your thigh, have to bite your tongue. Briefly, you fantasize about taking a cup of juice and ‘accidentally’ spilling it on him. But if you hope to win his trust, and have any chance of escaping the Chimaera, you have to play along. “I… ah… In truth, the esteem of the company was lost on me at first. I didn’t realize the significance of his rank. I didn’t even know there were non-human officers.” This feels dangerously close to agreeing with Ronan. Thrawn is thoroughly engaged in conversation; you doubt he’s listening to you.

“Yes, well. The Grand Admiral is one of the very few,” Ronan says, in a tone that suggests he’s relieved about this fact. “A great many exceptions were made to ensure his rise, as I’ve heard it. But he’s managed to charm the right people, I suppose. And you did too, placed with a Grand Admiral. I expect once you get back to civilization he’ll be keeping you in all the latest fashions and jewels.”

And with that, your exchange with Ronan stalls, though you should admit what it really is-- a dead end. What can you even talk about, with him, here? Other than the ever-fertile topic of Director Krennic, of course.

With a sigh, you return to picking at your food, and you catch the middle of a spirited discussion among Thrawn’s bridge crew.

“—losing too many fighters, it’s not sustainable.”

“Not the fighters, the pilots,” Faro says tightly. You get the impression that this is a particularly sore spot for her. “Pilot training takes a year, minimum. Just by the math, it doesn’t work out. We aren’t training replacements fast enough.”

They talk freely in front of Thrawn, and he seems to encourage this kind of open discussion and exchange of ideas. They also don’t look to him constantly for reassurance or the final word.

“But with the hit and run attacks--”

“It’s impossible to stamp them all out at once. They’re like weeds, pull one out and a few days later, three more sprout up.”

“Weeds?” Whispers Pyrondi to Faro, and you miss part of the discussion as Commodore Faro quietly explains what they are; apparently Pyrondi grew up on Coruscant and the concept is unfamiliar.

“How do they reconstitute so fast? With no supply lines, no centralized logistics?”

You shift in your seat and chance a look over at Thrawn— only to find him regarding you curiously. For a moment, your heart is in your throat, at the thought of him announcing to the whole table that they needn’t speculate any longer. Here is a former rebel, in the flesh, to whom they could direct all their questions.

But he doesn’t, and you sag in relief.

“A question, then,” Thrawn puts to his officers. “Knowing that current strategies of reactive targeting are ineffective, where should Imperial forces direct their efforts?”

Ronan makes a strangled sound— Thrawn may be right, but he is close to outright contradicting official policy, which amounts to contradicting the Emperor. None of his officers bat an eye though.

“Resource realignment,” Hammerly says promptly.

“Or stronger deterrents,” Lomar suggests, and you notice Ronan give an emphatic, approving nod.

“That’s not what I meant,” Hammerly says. “Bigger ships and bigger guns are useless if you can’t even find targets.”

More voices pick up the debate, with Pyrondi suggesting, “we need to make better use of intel sources to predict rebel movements and attacks.” You listen with a sort of numb curiosity. To hear your enemy-- if they still are your enemy-- discussing how they would defeat you.

At one point, you feel Ronan shift in his seat. He has interjected a few times, never shy with his opinion, to chastise anyone he disagrees with. This time, as he shifts, he manages to brush his hand against yours, under the table. You jerk away, but in a smooth, subtle motion, he catches you and you feel his fingers curl yours around something small, metallic, and cylindrical. A data stick.

You don’t look at him. You fight any reaction, and as naturally as possible, slip the data stick into a fold in your sleeve.

The conversation goes late. You miss most of it anyway, distracted by your curiosity about why Ronan would want to discretely slip you a data stick— and more importantly, what could possibly be on it. As you walk with Thrawn back to his quarters, an announcement comes over the 1MC, taps, taps. The passageway lights dim to red during the ship’s night cycle and Thrawn looks even more intimidating than usual, cast in red and yet his eyes still gleaming out of the darkness.

“What do you think?” He asks when you get back to his office.

“A-about what?” The data stick Ronan had pressed into your hand is making you paranoid. As small and light as it is, you fear it might still be noticeable in your sleeve, at least to someone as observant as Thrawn. For all you know he might be able to tell that its weight makes your robe hang slightly differently.

“The question we were discussing.”

You pull your veil back and sit on the couch, drawing a cozy blanket over yourself. “You really want my opinion?”

Thrawn goes to the small bar, pours two glasses of the emerald wine and brings them over. “You have a rather unique experience. So, yes, when I ask for your opinion, I expect you to provide it.”

You eye him for a moment, doubtful, wondering what game he’s playing here. He already knows you have no information. He knows you were a nobody. Completely insignificant to the broader effort. But he has a certain hold over you. An inviting expression on his sharply handsome features, his calm, undivided attention makes you blush, which you try to cover by taking a sip of your wine. It is sweet and flowery on your tongue. A sensual luxury. Perhaps Ronan was right-- given the chance, Thrawn will probably indulge you, spoil you in gifts of rare jewels and fine clothes and expensive, lavish meals in exclusive company.

Fine, then. You can play along. “The Empire’s strategies are more effective than you think. Lomar was saying how it’s not sustainable, the rate at which you keep losing fighters, but for every TIE blown up, or transport captured, it costs…” you stop yourself, feeling like you’ve exposed more than you meant to.

Thrawn is seated close, in the armchair, and he taps his finger on the stem of his wine glass without taking a sip, his eyes ever fixed on you. “It costs you more than it costs your enemy.”

You nod tightly. “The attrition is enough of a deterrent for most people to even think about supporting, let alone joining.”

“You joined.”

“And look where it got me.”

His eyebrows raise fractionally at that bit of impertinence, but you don’t look away. You hold his gaze, even as warmth creeps up your neck, brightening your cheeks. There is no mistaking the desire evident in his expression. He likes when you challenge him. Your breath catches, from the way he’s looking at you. From how ridiculously handsome he is. You can’t stop staring at his mouth, and the idea flashes through your mind-- how would it feel to kiss him?

“I-- what was the question?”

Thrawn repeats it-- that current approaches aren’t working. “Where do you think Imperial forces should direct their efforts instead?”

You bite your lip, flustered, your thoughts scattered. “I don’t know.” because you really don’t, but he narrows his eyes at that, and so you say what originally came to mind. “You should target the Mon Calamari shipyards.”

“Moff Tarkin has attempted that already.”

“He tried to take it as a trophy. I’m saying destroy it. I mean… hypothetically.”

“Explain,” Thrawn orders, in a quiet, low tone that always makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I— I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, right?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Well-- I mean, I was never in charge of anything--” his silence lets you stammer, and meander to a real answer. “We all used their ships. Lots of us, all the cells, even though we mostly didn’t know each other. And so, we all trained the same way, on the same equipment. If you had a Mon Cal ship, the maintainers and engineers would always know what to do for repairs. But when other ships would come in needing something, or had damage, they wouldn’t always know how to fix it. I mean-- if you take Corellian ships, not everything is standardized even from fourth generation to fifth generation fighters.”

“The use of a common design among and across fleets is advantageous,” Thrawn supplies.

“Yes. And a lot of times, when we needed replacement parts for other types of ships or anything like that, we’d have to track them down second-hand, or special order. Or figure out a workaround with a substitute, which would take time because it wasn’t just a drop-in, we’d have to do at least low level validation and sometimes minor re-design. That all takes time, and if we were planet hopping or system hopping, we couldn’t just order something because it wouldn’t arrive in time. We’d be gone before the delivery, and usually we had no idea where we’d end up next. So.” You shrug, unable to hide your slight smile. It hadn’t been fun, exactly, but the memories weren’t all bad.

“Removing the Mon Calamari shipyards would cripple the efficiency of the rebellion.” Thrawn’s tone is warmly approving, and you take another, deeper drink of your wine, because this conversation feels almost friendly. “You’ll be relieved to hear that such a course of action has already been considered and discarded by Imperial High Command. I recommended this to the Joint Chiefs, but my suggestion was rebuffed.”

“Why?”

Thrawn frowns, his air of satisfaction disappearing. “I do not know. A longtime friend and mentor told me that the reason was political but the nuances of such a decision escape me. Nevertheless, your instinct is a good one. And you made the point more convincingly than I was able to.” He taps the arm of his chair thoughtfully. “Most wars will be won or lost on the supply lines, long before any battles take place. You would have done well as a naval officer.”

Whether he meant it as a compliment or not, the idea rattles around in your head for the rest of the night, and long after Thrawn puts you to bed. You lay with it, tossing and turning in the dark, until you’re convinced it’s late enough. You have to see what’s on that data stick.

As far as you know, Thrawn has never come in to check on you while you’re asleep. And he has never slept in here with you either, which is another bizarre mystery, but not one you’ll find an answer to tonight. You’d managed to keep the data stick from Ronan hidden in your robes, even after taking them off and hanging them in the wall locker.

Now, you slide out of bed, moving carefully, secretly, as if any noise would alert Thrawn. For that, at least, you probably don’t have to worry. There is an ambient hum about the ship, no matter where you are-- the sound of the air circulator, and all the other life support systems will be enough to drown out all of your footsteps and movement.

Still, heart beating in your ears, you creep over and retrieve the data stick, then slot it in the data pad. A message reads out on the screen, just a single line.

Your breath catches in your chest.

[CELES STAVEN. IF YOU KNEW HER ON CORUSCANT I CAN HELP YOU.]

You stare at the words, reading them over again, trying to temper your hopes a little, but the prospect of escaping is an exciting one, burning in your chest. Ronan knew someone at the cloister. His family? The surname was different, but that must be who he was asking about. But did he know how they kept you anonymous? Faceless, even with each other? Even those you thought you knew, you had never known their names, at least, not their real names. Celes. You wrack your memories for some clue-- anything-- if only he had said what she looked like. Or better, what she had sounded like. The shape of her hands.

A chill passes through you, and your throat gets tight, tears prick your eyes. Here in the dark, all of a sudden, you feel coldly, desperately alone.

You wipe the message, then input one of your own. It can’t be too long. You wish there was space to explain all this. He’s looking for an easy answer, and you don’t have one. Perhaps you could try to just ask him directly, you’ll likely see him on the bridge tomorrow morning but-- no. Too risky. People would have questions if you were seen chatting together. Ironically, Thrawn wouldn’t care about such a breach of etiquette, you’re sure, but to others it would raise suspicion.

[NO NAMES. NEED A HOLO.]

You take the data stick out of the datapad. Now, you have to find a secure place to hide it until you can pass it back to him, but there is nowhere in the sparely furnished room that you can be sure Thrawn or a cleaning droid wouldn’t find. On your person, then. You could sew it into your robes.

If only you had a needle and thread. And light.

After some rather desperate, breathless searching, mostly by touch, you find a travel sewing kit at the very back of a high shelf in the wall locker. That will work-- it has a needle, at least, though the thread is too heavy and the wrong color. You can salvage palebug thread from your embroidery. You slip your robe off the hangar, and crouch by the viewport. With the stars your only light, you painstakingly pick loose the thread of one of the flowers on your slipper. One from the side, where you think has the least chance of being noticed.

The work is agonizingly slow. This could be the night Thrawn decides to check on you, you expect the hatch to open at any moment but you can’t rush. The thread itself is prone to breaking, and with each stitch undone, it shines in the starlight, as delicate as crawler silk, shimmering even from your light breaths. Once you have a length of thread long enough to double on itself, you set about sewing an extra, hidden pocket into an inconspicuous fold of your sleeve. The data stick is small and light enough, as long as no one knows to look for it, it should never be found.

And now, you’ll just have to figure out how to hand it back to Ronan.

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