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strawberrystar7 · 3 years

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I think People misunderstood Chloé's arc and the season 3 finale (and especially Chloé's role in it.). And here is why I think that.

This is a really long post and I know it's hard to keep reading something as long as this but please, I ask you, either do not read it at all if you don't want to read something like this or read it completely. If you do decide to read this but stop in the middle because you want to comment on something I ask you to not do that. Please read all of it thoroughly. If you want to comment on something, take notes but don't post it before having read all, because if you do not read all you probably won't understand it correctly. Additionally, some things might have been answered later on in the post.

I think the true lesson the writers wanted to give with Chloé's arc and especially the Season 3 finale is that it's good to be forgiving and give second or maybe even 3rd chances but you shouldn't try and help someone who doesn't want to change. There was a time where she maybe wanted to change... I put the maybe there on purpose. This is because if I look at Chloé's behavior it isn't entirely clear if she ever wanted to change because she wants to help others or if she just wanted to "change" so she can have the Bee Miraculous.

Chloé's arc in actuality was a treason arc. It wasn't a redemption arc. On the surface it may have looked like one but if you look deeper I think you'll see the signs.

I know I am gonna get hate for saying the next bit but if you look closely (and I mean very closely) at Chloé's actions then you'll see what I mean. In season 1 Chloe was a stereotypical bully. In season 2 she actually got a backstory, explaining her actions. It basically made her look more like a real person. But even so her actions didn't really change. She stayed a bully. On surface level her actions did change a little, but on a lower level they didn't.

What do I mean with that? Take Despair Bear as an example she threw a party and invitated all her classmates. In itself that's a nice action but do you remember the reason why she threw the party? Adrien threatened to break up their friendship if she wasn't nicer to people. So her Butler Jean gave her the idea with the party and that she should be nice.

Yeah, I know this happened before the Queen's Battle trilogy (I know it's actually just a 2 part episode (Style Queen and Queen Wasp) but I count Malediktator as a 3rd part because it pretty much is a direct follow up to Queen Wasp.) but this is supposed to serve as an example for Chloé's behavior in season 2.

Now look at Zombizou. Chloé gave Miss Bustier a present the day after her birthday. Do you remember why this happened? Marinette called Chloé out for not having brought one and pretty much embarrassed her infront of the class (I know the way she called her out was mean but that's not the point here). In the end Chloé most likely would never have brought a gift if this didn't happen.

I think this Episode also came before the Queens Battle trilogy but I'm not sure. Anyway even if it was before, it still shows how Chloé behaves most of the time when she does good things.

Now let's look at the Queen's Battle trilogy. In the Style Queen episode we see for the first time how Audrey treats Chloé and while it does explain why Chloé does what she does it doesn't mean her actions are excusable. It makes her actions understandable to the viewers and it makes her, as already mentioned, look more like an actual human being. In that episode we do not really see any more about Chloé and her past or actions besides her finding the Box with the Bee Miraculous.

After that Queen Wasp follows. In this episode the first scene where Chloe plays a rather major role is the scene with Gabriel Agreste, Audrey Bourgeois, André Bourgeois, Tom Dupain, Sabine Cheng, Adrien Agreste, Marinette Dupain-Cheng and of course Chloé Bourgeois. In this scene we see Audrey taking Marinette's feather hat after it rolls infront of her. She inspects it and remarks that it isn't Gabriel's. She then asks if Marinette is responsible for the hat, which Marinette replies to with her having created the hat. You know the rest Gabriel admits she won a fashion contest, Audrey remarks the hat is "exceptional", and then she asks Marinette if she wants to go to New York. That is where Chloé comes in, claiming to never having been in New York. She also asked why she was taking Marinette. Audrey replies with Marinette being "exceptional". Chloé then says that she's "exceptional" too. Audrey then says the following "The only exeptionial thing about you, my dear... is your mother.". I think you know the rest André tries to step in but is interrupted by Chloé who transforms into Queen Bee infront of everyone to proof that she is exceptional.

This wasn't simply to prove her mother wrong tho. She did it to prove to everyone that she's exceptional and her behaviors later on that episode prove that exact point. Queen Bee then disappears.

The others go home and Queen Bee looks around the city to see if there's anything she can do but doesn't find anyone who needs saving. She then thinks of that plan with the train and calls Nadja Chamak to gain publicity for her heroic deeds. As already mentioned this pretty much proves my point. If she really jzst wanted to prove Audrey wrong then why call in one of Paris's star reporters?

After the call she heads towards the metro. She runs on the side of the metro and enters the driver's room. She then Calls out her venom and numbs the driver. The metro speeds up and Queen Bee turns on the metro TV saying she'll save them (this pretty much was to gain even more publicity). Queen Bee isn't able to stop the metro and Ladybug and Cat Noir come in to help stop the metro. Ladybug calls Chloé out for numbing the train driver and Nadja Chamak comes with Audrey Bourgeois on a live call. Audrey then says the following "What? Regarding my daughter's ineptitude? I think it speaks for itself, doesn't it?". Ladybug asks Chloé to give the Miraculous back but Chloé keeps it and runs away with it. Queen Bee then gets akumatized before she transforms back causing her to turn in Queen Wasp. I don't think it's important to mention what happened while she was Queen Wasp because in this case she wasn't willingly akumatized just like Antibug which also means she wasn't herself unlike Chameleon and Miracle Queen who both were willingly akumatized and both kinda knew what happened while they were akumatized.).

When she gets deakumatized Marinette later comes in and tries to help fix Chloé's and Audrey's relationship (atleast as much as it can be fixed) by pretty much insulting both of them and saying "You're also wrong about your daughter not being exceptional. In fact, Chloé is exceptionally mean. She's the worst person I've ever met. She may be more heinous, pompous and selfish than you. Compared to both of you, even a rock seems more capable of love.". Chloé and Audrey then pretty much shout at the same time "How dare you⁈". They then see they do have a lot in common. The episode then pretty much ends after 2 more short scenes (both scenes do not have anything to do with Chloé so I don't think they are important.).

Now let's look at Malediktator. The episode starts with Chloé's documentary about Queen Bee where Chloé-Bee and Chloé-Bug (I'm gonna call her that because that's Chloé with a Queen Bee costume and Chloé with a Ladybug costume) talk about how great of a superhero Queen Bee is. Then it zooms out to reveal that the documentary is watched by Chloé's classmates.

Ivan then points out that isn't Ladybug. Chloé says it is Ladybug and Miss Bustier asks why Chloé did the assignment about herself.

Chloé then says they were supposed to choose an important person in French history. Chloé-Bug talks more about Queen Bee. Alya then points out that's Chloé with a Ladybug costume. This discussion goes on for a bit until Chloé leaves.

Chloé and Audrey then storm in to André's office while a pair is getting married. They force them out and Audrey tells André to close the school while Chloé tells him to ban Marinette and her family.

Audrey then says the following "That monster hurt your little girl’s feelings.". Chloé adds "She got the whole class to gang up on me. They all have to pay.". You probably know the rest. André says he can't do that and Chloé and Audrey leave him alone in his office and say they'll leave for New York. Chloé is then in the Bourgeois suite packing (or more like telling her Butler to pack for her.) André comes in to argue with Chloé and Audrey to stay in Versailles or near Paris.

Hawk Moth akumatizes André after Audrey and Chloé leave with the helicopter.

Chloé flies over the school with her helicopter, throwing flyers showing Chloé in front of the statue of liberty and saying she'll leave for New York. The students celebrate after Chloé leaves.

Malediktator stops the helicopter and says he has the power to close the school and banish the students who were mean to her. He then commands Audrey to be devoted to him and stay in Paris. Chloé runs away/hides. Some time passes and Ladybug goes to Chloé asking her why Malediktator is mad.

Chloé doesn't want to say at first and blames Marinette, then saying André got mad all by himself but then she admits to being the cause of her fathers akumatization.

Then this happens:

Ladybug: Because of what happened in school? I'm sure Marinette probably didn't exactly mean what she said.

Chloé: Oh, it's not just her— actually, I don't even care about her— it's because I have no reason to be here: nobody likes me; I have no friends. I'm… useless.

Ladybug: (remembering what Adrien told Marinette earlier at school about Chloé) A friend once told me: nobody is useless, Chloé.

Chloé: It's easy for you to say that. You're Ladybug, a superhero. You serve a purpose.

Ladybug: Yes, I can fix up all the messes. You said it yourself in your documentary.

Chloé: (gasps) You saw it?!

Ladybug: (nods) Mm-hmm.

Chloé: Oh! I'm so embarrassed. That film's ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. I realize that now.

Ladybug: Don't worry Chloé. You can fix your own messes, if that's what you want. You, too, can serve a purpose, but you have to want to.

Chloé: (sniffles) I do want to.

Ladybug: Chloé Bourgeois, (holds out the Miraculous box) here is the Bee Miraculous, which grants you the power to immobilize your opponent. You will use it for the greater good.

(Chloé hesitates; Ladybug nods approvingly; Chloé takes the box and opens it; a yellow ball of light flies around her and Pollen appears.)

Pollen: At your service, my Queen.

Ladybug: Once the job is complete, you will return the Miraculous to me. Can I trust you, Chloé?

Chloé: (puts the haircomb in her hair) I won't disappoint you this time, Ladybug.

Then Chloé transforms into Queen Bee.

Queen Bee and Ladybug (with the help of Cat!Cat Noir) defeat Malediktator.

Then this happens:

Ladybug: Yep, you missed Queen Bee and Ladybug saving Paris, for real this time.

Queen Bee: I understand, Ladybug. Buzz off. (transforms back into Chloé)

Chloé: (gives back her Miraculous) Being a superhero isn't only about fixing messes. (Ladybug holds up her hand in a fist; Chloé gasps and smiles)

Chloé and Ladybug: (fist-bump) Pound it!

After that Chloé and her family leave.

Then this happens:

Chloé: It's okay, Jean-Yves; I'll take care of it.

Butler Jean: Mademoiselle, are you sure?

Chloé: Yes, I need to do it myself.

Marinette: Chloé?

Chloé: (gasps) Dupain-Cheng?

After that Marinette brings Chloé to the school showing her they threw a party for her. That's pretty much how the episode ends.

I guess this is the episode (Malediktator) that convinced everyone Chloé was changing (and maybe at this point in time she truly did want to change. But I'll explain later on in the text why it did not work out.). After all it literally showed scenes where Chloé was nice without her benefitting from it. And honestly the earlier episodes did not show that Chloé was going to change. The earlier episodes gave depth to her character and kinda explained her actions but they didn't really make her look like she wanted to change. The end of the Malediktator episode tho? It did look like she wanted to change or atleast it made it seem like that. But as I implied Chloé's arc is way more complicated than you think. It can't be just written of as bad or inconsistent writing. Read more and you'll see exactly why this isn't just inconsistent/bad writing.

I don't think we saw much of Chloé in the season 2 finale besides her appearance as Queen Bee again. But honestly I do not remember much about the season 2 finale anyway.

Now let's look at season 3. (I just remembered I forgot about Animaestro. I forgot where in the season that happened but I just put it in the beginning because I feel like it would ruin the flow of the text.) In Animaestro Chloé literally teams up with Marinette to ruin Kagami's day (This was just to show that Chloé still did stuff like in season 1). Anyway, not only is it pretty clear that Chloé would love to be Queen Bee again but she also probably would do anything to be Queen Bee again. So she constantly asks for her Miraculous (seen in Startrain and other episodes) or she pretty much shows everyone how proud she is of being Queen Bee, seeking attention for that (Maledikator). In Miraculer Chloé waits to get her Miraculous but doesn't get it. Then Lila tells Chloé about a fake dance which summons Ladybug. Chloé gets really angry when the dance failed and then lashes out at Sabrina telling her she doesn't want to play with her. Chloé then breaks down after not getting the Miraculous for some time, resulting into the scene where Chloé resists getting akumatized. Instead, Sabrina is the one getting akumatized. Some time later a cataclysmed Cat Noir tries to give Chloé the Miraculous but because of his cataclysmed rips he ends up loosing the Miraculous to Mayura.

You probably know the rest. Rena Rouge makes a Chloé illusion in Ladybug's place, Ladybug gets her powers back, Chloé makes Miraculer even angrier, Ladybug (with the help of Cat Noir, Rena Rouge, Carapace) gets the Bee Miraculous back and gives it to Chloé. Chloé follows Mayura but looses her. After the fight Ladybug talks to Chloé.

This happens:

Queen Bee: Ladybug. Mayura got away from me. I'm sorry, utterly sorry.

Ladybug: That's okay, Queen Bee. We'll get her next time. (reaches hand out for the Bee Miraculous)

Queen Bee: If you'd given it to me earlier, we'd probably would've defeated Hawk Moth.

Ladybug: I'm sorry, Chloé. I should've told you this a long time ago. I might never be able to let you be Queen Bee again.

Queen Bee: What? But I did everything you asked me to.

Ladybug: I know. But this is for your own safety. It's too dangerous for you and your loved ones because Hawk Moth knows that you're Queen Bee.

Queen Bee: Buzz off. (turns back into Chloé and gives Miraculous to Ladybug)

Chloé: I understand. But I'm sure that you'll need me again, Ladybug. I know that I'll be Queen Bee again someday. I will always be Queen Bee.

Ladybug: (notices her Miraculous beeping) Thank you, Chloé. Let's go. (takes off with Rena Rouge and Carapace)

Despite saying that Chloé said she understood she can't have the Miraculous anymore she did not understand.

I know one of the arguments people have was that if Ladybug stayed longer to explain more thoroughly Chloé would have understood. But what do you want Ladybug to do? Risk her identity? She was on her last 5 minutes. Probably less considering how a couple minutes probably flew by from the moment she called out her lucky charm to the moment she called out Miraculous Ladybug. So probably 2 or 3 minutes were already gone from her timer. Additionally, she still needs atleast a minute to not risk her identity getting revealed while she takes Rena Rouge's and Carapace's Miraculous. There was no more time to spare. Despite that I don't really think Chloé would have understood even if Ladybug had more than 2 minutes to spare. Not with how self-centered she is.

Well there had been some smaller incidents with Chloé treating people badly (Animaestro fo example) but that aside those were small moments. I think the next big Chloé moment would pretty much be Heart Hunter and Miracle Queen. Heart Hunter proved that Chloé did not learn from what Ladybug said. She still waited on her rooftop with her Bee signal for Ladybug to come and give her the Miraculous. In the end of the episode we see her so angry at Ladybug for not giving her the Miraculous that she willingly worked with Hawk Moth and actively forcing her will onto Pollen.

This is what happens:

Hawk Moth: (puts up his hand and interrupts) You're right, but I did it for one reason only. So that you would finally realize that Ladybug will never give you the Bee Miraculous again. I, however, always keep my promises. (shows her the Bee Miraculous in his hand)

Chloé: This isn't real! How do you have it?

Hawk Moth: Try it and see for yourself. You're Ladybug's greatest fan. You've helped her, you've trusted her, and what has she done for you in return?

Chloé: (gets angry) Nothing! She couldn't care less about me! I'm done with her. She's irrelevant, utterly irrelevant! (reaches out to grap the Miraculous, stops) I want you to deakumatize has my parents first!

Hawk Moth: Whatever you say, my queen. (Chloé takes the comb and puts it in her hair, releasing Pollen)

Pollen: (urgently) Your majesty, wait!-

Chloé: Silence! You will speak only when spoken to. Your loss, Ladybug. Pollen, buzz on! (transforms into Queen Bee)

She then gets willingly akumatized.

In Miracle Queen we then see her actively work for Hawk Moth, even revealing all the Miraculous Holders. After she gets deakumatized she seems to still have her memory, considering how she wasn't disoriented like every other Akuma Victim. She even jumps after another Akuma.

Chloé also does and says the following "I'm not on your side anymore! How many times have I asked to fight alongside you? And how many times have you refused to give me back my Miraculous? How many, huh? Hawk Moth isn't my enemy, he's yours! And the Miracle Box is mine! (Queen Bee slams down the Miracle Box, and opening it, starts putting on all of the Miraculouses)".

This pretty much proves my point further. Chloé never let go of the Bee Miraculous, thinking it was her own and she had every right to obtain it whenever she wants. The fact that she's only concerned about getting the Miraculous even proves further that she doesn't really care about helping others. All she cares about is her self and as established before this had always been the case. Even in the Queen's Battle trilogy.

Think about it. Chloé is so deadset on keeping the Bee Miraculous that she would do anything. And if I say anything I mean anything. She literally worked with Hawk Moth to get the Miraculous. So if getting the Miraculous and all the attention that comes with it means that she has to help others she'd gladly do it. If helping others means she gets attention she'd gladly do it. We've seen it in Despair Bear and other episodes. Ladybug used to be Chloé's idol so to get her attention she pushed the mind controlled Cat Noir away. To get Adrien's attention she threw the party and was nice to the others. But the moment people didn't look she acted mean. This isn't even the only season 2 or 3 episode this happened. It is totally in character for Chloé to have reacted the way she did in the season 3 finale. Just because she turned bad again doesn't mean she's a 2 dimensional character. She still has the same backstory and all as she had before. The only difference here is that she openly worked with Hawk Moth. So why is she suddenly a horribly written character? Just because she worked with Hawk Moth?

Well let me tell you something: Just look at her relationship with her father. He never denied her anything. He always did everything she wanted. She would throw a tantrum if she doesn't get what she wants. So don't you think it's totally in character for Chloé to react the way she did when Ladybug refused to give her the Miraculous? It's the equivalent to the tantrum of a spoiled rich girl (or boy) would throw if they don't get what they want. The only difference here being that a magical terrorist pretty much took advantage of that tantrum.

As you can see the way she acted was not out of character. It was completely in character for Chloé. In fact, it was so in character that if we've taken the time to truly look at her then we all would have seen it. I gotta admit, I myself got completely deceived the first time I watched Malediktator and Miraculer. I myself thought, maybe she could change (and I still think so). The first time I watched Heart Hunter and Miracle Queen I also thought it was bad writing and I also hated that finale. I thought they did her dirty. I literally blamed the writers like all the others and stated on YouTube how bad of a Episode that was. But now? Now that I actually took the time to rewatch the Episodes (not just the finale but generally any episode) over and over again just to see all the small details people talked about that I never noticed, I noticed those details about Chloé that I didn't before.

People always claim the finale is horrible because they made Chloé out of character... but... In fact, the Season 3 finale is actually good. It may have some plot holes because the writing of the show honestly sometimes isn't the best. There's some episodes that are badly written and have loads of plot holes. But the season 3 finale? It might just be one of the better written episodes. And that only because of the fact that they sticked to how a girl like Chloé would actually react to getting told off like that. And I know for a fact that girls as spoiled as Chloé would react like that because I met a fair share of people like that. They all threw a huge tantrum when they got told off.

Don't get me wrong, I am not saying Chloé doesn't have the potential to change. Infact, she definitely has the potential to change. But not like this. Chloé needs to hit rock bottom before she can actually change. And no, getting told you can't have the Bee Miraculous anymore is not rock bottom. The first thing that needs to happen is for her father to stand up to her. And as seen in (⚠️Season 4 Spoiler warning⚠️) Queen Banana André finally did stand up to Chloé. If he keeps that up that might be good start (⚠️End of Spoiler⚠️). After Chloé doesn't get everything she wants from her father anymore there's two things that can happen: Either she becomes a complete lost cause and doesn't learn anything from it or rather she doesn't want to learn or she learns that not everything will always go her way and that she can't have everything (specifically the Bee Miraculous, as you can't buy it.). This also might cause her to become less selfish and start thinking more about the others. Even if that doesn't happen maybe Zoé (because she's Chloé's half sister) or Adrien (because he is/was Chloé's childhood best friend and would love to help her) could come in to help Chloé become less selfish. But again for that to happen Chloé first needs to learn that not everything goes how she wants it and she can't have everything. And again this won't happen if everything is handed to her like it has been all these years.

Please understand that I am not hating on Chloé. Chloé may even be one of my favorite characters for the exact reasons I mentioned here. Because even tho she's a stereotypical bully she has depth to her character. And if she'll ever truly change she'd might just become one of the more relatable characters in the show.

And I know I am none of the writers so I do not know what they thought while writing the finale and the rest of Chloé's arc but to me this seems like the most logical explanation. I do not think the writers hate Chloé. That just makes no sense. They have developed her past and backstory and stuff like that way too much for them to hate her. If they truly hated her I don't even think they would have developed her character like that. If they truly hated her they would have left her like Lila with little to no information about her past or basically anything that explains her actions.

So please, I ask you please do not harass the writers for their decisions. Just please for once try to understand their thought process. Maybe you just didn't truly understand what they meant because as I explained Chloé's arc was deceiving. On the surface it looked like a redemption arc but truly it wasn't.

I am not claiming to have fully understood what the writers where trying to say but I do think I got close to what they were trying to say. I am also very sorry if I might have not been able to explain some of the points well. While I did rewatch every episode while writing this I did not want to put in every single episode (which might have gotten my points across even better) as the post has already gotten way too long. Not many people like to read much so probably only a few will even have read this completely. But to those who did take the time to read it all, thank you for having taken the time. I'd really like to hear your opinion on my take on this topic. Because while I do think this might be somewhat close to what the writers where trying to do it most likely isn't exactly what they wanted. I'd really like to hear your opinion on my take on this topic. Because as I said while I do think this might be somewhat close to what the writers where trying to do it most likely isn't exactly what they wanted. Maybe some of you have something to debunk or maybe even strengthen my points. Both is fine as long as everyone's nice towards each other. I do not want to see some kind of war. So please be kind towards each other.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #chloé bourgeois #heart hunter #miracle queen #mlb fandom #miraculous analysis #mlb #mlb analysis #chloe salt #mlb season 3 #miraculous season 3 #miraculous season 2 #malediktator #queen wasp #style queen

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soulmate-game · 4 years

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Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 5: Overprotection

Disclaimer: Dick was adopted when he was 12 in this fic. Just for math’s sake.

—*—*—*—*—*

“What.”

Damian stared at his father, face carefully blank. Bruce grimaced, shifting.

“I said, you have a half sister. Biological.”

Four sets of eyes bored into him, from all of his sons. They were gathered not in the Batcave for once, but just one of the sitting rooms in the Manor.

“... and what, Father, does that have to do with the French class visiting Gotham?” Damian asked again, posture steadily growing stiffer and more and more stone like. He was trying hard to suppress emotions, but not even he was quite sure what those emotions were yet. Anger? Fear? Resentment? Probably. He might have detected some excitement there too, deep, deep down. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for this.

“Well. I’ve kept up with her life, but last time I checked she had no idea that she was adopted. When her birth mother died, it was right around the time I adopted Dick. She was still an infant, and I knew I was not equipped to handle taking care of a baby—“

“Father,” Damian interrupted again. “You sent her off. Have her up for adoption,” he said slowly, as if realizing that that would have been his fate had his father known about his existence earlier, as well. It was almost ironic, considering how Bruce seemed to have a problem with adopting other children nowadays. Bruce nodded.

“She was adopted by a couple in France. Paris, to be exact. I’ve kept up to date, asking them to just send me a letter or email once or twice a year about the general stuff she’s been up to. Nothing too invasive. A few pictures. And last time I asked them, they said that she had no idea about being adopted or that I was her father,” Bruce sighed again, running a hand over his face. “But I think she does.”

“Why?” Jason asked, confused as everyone else to the change in subject. Except Tim and Damian, who seemed to be quickly connecting the dots.

“Oh boy,” Tim breathed. Bruce just nodded.

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is the one who organized the trip for her class to come here, to Gotham. She is the one who entered and won our international internship competition, and turned that into an excuse to get her entire class to come here for two weeks. To get to know the place she will be living for her internship next year, after she graduates Lycee, France’s version of highschool essentially.”

Tim winced. He had been in charge of the internship competition, and Bruce had given him free reign. He had chosen the winner without even thinking to run it by his adoptive father.

“Bruce—“ Tim tried, but the man just held up a hand.

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been paying too much attention to her life, and I didn’t expect her to do something like this. But we know now that, if she does know and this isn’t a giant coincidence,”

“Unlikely,” Dick agreed, wincing. “Possible, but unlikely.”

Bruce huffed in agreement. “Then, we know she is very resourceful, determined, and has skills that impressed Tim enough to choose her out of tens of thousands of contest participants worldwide.”

“The minimum requirement for a Wayne,” Damian finally managed to bite out, still coping with this proverbial slap in the face but doing his best to handle it. He was seventeen damn it, and had come a long way from who he used to be. He could handle this. He could. He would.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table. “Okay. So now we need to make plans.”

“Plans?” Jason asked, frowning. “For how you’re gonna tell her without getting your faces plastered over every tabloid in the city right?”

“No,” the older man shook his head. “Plans to keep her alive, unharmed, and unaffiliated with us until she leaves. I will not be making any public appearances unless absolutely necessary, so trips to the Tower are out of the question—“

“Are you…” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Trying to keep her out of our Shitshow? Because yeah, kudos to you even if it took you way too long to learn, but if she went through all this trouble to come here then it's probably too late.”

Dick nodded. “If she’s anything like you and Damian, there’s no way she’ll back off easy. Avoiding her will only make it worse on you, and probably the rest of us too.”

Damian stared straight into his father's eyes, glare sharp and searching. “What is this about, Father? You have not worried this much about any of us—“

“Because none of you were as naive!” He barked, quickly catching himself and taking a breath. “You all had a way you could benefit from this life. A way I could help you. But Marinette has both of the parents she has known her whole life, they treat her wonderfully. They care. She’s never had to worry about constantly moving, or fighting, or going hungry. The only deaths she has ever experienced have been from afar and due to natural causes. She designs as a hobby and has no problem with socializing or handling emotions in a healthy way— introducing her to our life holds no benefit for her. The only thing it can give her is unnecessary danger and risk and secrets.”

“Yeah, well. I guess Batman doesn’t know everything, does he?” A new voice startled them all from the doorway, making everyone's head whip over to see who had managed the near-impossible and snuck up on all of them.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, was a short part-Asian woman in her late teens. Her midnight black hair was cascading down her back in one thick braid, tied off at the end with an indigo ribbon. Her eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, matching those of Bruce perfectly. Her jaw was clenched, and the infamous Bat-glare coming from her was directed right at the person who made the expression infamous in the first place.

“Marinette,” Bruce breathed, shoulders squaring. “Your plane isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“It won’t,” she agreed. “I took a portal here. You see, my extensive research into Batman’s known habits and tactics, which I started after I figured out about your alter ego last year, informed me that you tend to go to the extremes to protect people you deem incapable of protecting themselves, and are also prone to idiotic self-sacrificing behavior in the form of purposely making yourself look like an ass.”

Jason chuckled. “She’s got you down to a T, B,” he quipped with a grin despite the caution still in his eyes. “But let’s back up a bit, little Spitfire. What’s this about a portal?”

Marinette pushed off the doorframe, walking closer to the scattered group. Tim and Jason were spread across one sofa, Damian on the other with Dick, and Bruce was occupying an armchair. Marinette just walked until she stood where she could easily be seen by everyone, but also had nobody at her back.

“The portal is part of a bigger story. Like, the fact that father dearest wanted to protect me so badly that he placed the JLE in Paris, but didn’t realize that relations with that branch were so bad that the JLE never informed him or the JLA about getting kicked out of France and reassigning themselves to Italy. Bruce never kept a close enough eye on the city, because he wanted to keep emotional distance, and therefore was completely blind to when a supervillain showed up and terrorized Paris for almost five years,” she continued, her glare never leaving Bruce’s face.

“I found out about being adopted when I was eight. I found out who my biological father was when I was thirteen. Last year, I finally put in the work to connect Bruce Wayne to Batman. And yeah, I never told Maman and Papan, because they have never completely understood me. They wouldn’t have understood that I was fine with having no contact with you, back then. That my snooping had nothing to do with being unhappy with them as my parents. They would have immediately assumed they were inadequate when I am merely curious by nature. But then I ended up being chosen to be one of the child heroes that fought said domestic terrorist that showed up five years ago. And I sure as hell couldn't tell them that a magical artifact showed up on my desk one day and that the god inhabiting it told me to fight the monsters the villain made and just, just go with it. I couldn’t tell them when I went from being one of two Parisian heroes to being the leader of a team. I couldn’t tell them when my elderly mentor, unable to fight by our side but who had at least provided emotional support and knowledge, passed away and gave me his title and responsibilities. I’m sick and tired of being protected, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette didn’t seem to notice the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m sick of it. I know you were trying to keep me safe, but I fought a war I wasn’t prepared for. I died, thousands of times. But my own powers and the powers I have my partners brought me back to life. Over and over. I don’t need protection, damn it. I don’t need you to distance yourself, because you're the only fucking person I can call a parent who might understand,” she held out a hand, her scowl turning into a gentle smile. “I have so much I need to talk about. Before I drown under all these secrets. Please. I’ll go back through another portal before my parents notice I’m gone, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow when my plane lands. Just. Please, don’t push me away. That’s all I ask. I want to get to know you, all of you. I… I need family who understands.”

“Thousands.” Bruce repeated, all of them still recovering from Marinette’s very sudden, info-dumping speech. “You died… thousands of times?”

Marinette laughed, but it was a sad sound. No mirth there. “I gave my friend a magical artifact that reverses time, and the artifact that gives me my own powers can reverse any damage from a fight I use it in. Even death. Sending untrained teenagers to fight a villain three times their age makes some kind of failsafe like that kind of necessary.”

“Fuck,” Jason cursed under his breath. “Well. You’re welcome to join the living Zombie club,” he offered. The girl snorted, giving him a watery grin in thanks.

“I’m sure you know about my stance on powers and metas,” Bruce decided to say, wincing immediately after. That wasn’t what he meant to say. At all. He earned another brief glare for it.

“I’m not a meta, and I only have powers when I use the artifact to transform, thereby borrowing powers from the miniature god that the artifact houses. Think of it like doctor fate, but my gods are actually not parasites and my powers are much more… specialized. I had to learn combat on my own, and I was able to train in my sleep with the past users of this artifact. That includes people like Fa Mulan, Joan of Arc, and someone you actually know— Hippolyta. I’ve mastered more fighting styles by now than I care to remember, and I’ve done gymnastics since I was three. I don’t know if my parents told you that in their letters. I even won the gold in the nationwide France gymnastics competition two years ago. I assure you, I don’t rely on my powers nearly as much as you might think.”

Bruce swallowed. “I can… greet you when your class arrives.”

Marinette grinned. “Well, that’s a start.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Idk what happened, I don’t know if I like this at all but oh well. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe one of you will like it. I… couldn’t really find any other way to do this so oh well. Also, I think Mulan was a past Dragon..? But I put her as a Ladybug because I Can.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy @meme991001

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #day 5 #not my fave at all

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slaytheday420 · 3 years

Text

Xander Hawthorne Headcanons

please don’t hate me but i haven’t yet read the Hawthorne legacy so if any of these are outdated oh well and I'll try my best

a/n this part 1 out of 2 and it’s pretty long

- Xander has ADHD (like duh)

- he also doesn't you know do emotions especially if they are his own

- he’s more into machinery than human emotions

- and I know he is like the excitable extrovert everyone loves and he is, but if someone like starts crying in front of him he definitely gives them a hug but that’s it

- he likes to be able to understand what's happening and why its happening and fix it

- he especially does not like the feelings he’s starting to grow for a certain someone in almost half his classes

- who is this certain someone well his name is Remmi Armani the son of famous inventor and part time pro at Robot fighting Charles Armani one of Xanders idols

- but what is freaking Xander out the most is that he had a crush on a BOY

- 🌈

- he’s never had a crush on anyone let alone a BOY

- he doesn't know what to think something must be wrong in his brain because he can't be gay, other people can but not him

- he’s thought that he’s straight for his whole life and then BAM liking guys

- we all know he’s a ‘live in the moment’ kinda guy

- but changes that involve acknowledging his emotions no thanks

- like he’s all for living life, but if someone told him to stop and thing about emotions and how he’s feeling, like Xanders just like no thanks I’II pass

- after months of denying he finally goes and talks to Rebeca Laughlin

- she’s the only one he’s ever spoken the words ‘I think I’m gay’ too

- after a few more months he goes to Thea just to ask more about Remmi

- ‘well his mom’s French and his dad’s the famous Charles Armani although I think you know that, he’s currently planning to study literature after he graduates, lets see what else, oh he’s also bisexual an-.’

- the moment he hears that his crush likes boys he might as well faint

- Thea notices and guesses immediately

- Xander tries to convince her otherwise he doesn't want Thea to know because she might out him

- you know I would never out another member of the queer community i have morals

- Xander cringed at the word ‘queer’ and Thea noticed

- it’s okay she reassured him

- and that’s how the next morning Xander walks out of one of the many robotics classrooms and bumps into Remmi Armani

- turns out Thea set him up

- and he went willingly

- the two started hanging out much more, their relationship grows and they trust each other more and more

- even sometimes playing footsies under desks in the classes they had together

- they help each other study, Remmi was much better than Xander in things like poetry, history and literature, which made sense since he was going on to study the subject.

- in turn Xander was much better at calculus, physics and surprise robotics and coding

- When they had their first kiss Xander made sure it was somewhere nobody would find them

- because he was so scared btw it was also his first time kissing anyone

- then that place (idk what place) sorta becomes their safe haven to do coupley stuff e.g. hold hands, make out, laugh together and just be all over each other

#xander hawthorne #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #oc #part 1 out of 2 #cute #lgbtq #gay love #headcanon

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shofics · 3 years

Note

question 12, 5: modern university au !!!

Oh man, oh man. I actually had some ideas for a uni AU ages ago that never really became anything, and I’ve cannibalised it for parts for other fics since then (This is the outline I stole the ‘Wilde likes french vanilla coffee’, ‘Sasha has EDS and also possibly POTS’, and ‘Barnes, Carter, Cel, and Wilde all live together’ ideas from for Hope & Smith), but I do have the main ideas left over! It was a modern university AU + magic, so that’s what I’ve put down here. Another one that got frighteningly long, more under the cut <3

Hamid originally studies Pure Maths (this is… a real thing. As opposed to applied mathematics, I believe) because he wants to have a Fancy, High-Thinker Degree that his parents will approve of because it’s very intelligent but won’t necessarily understand.

His first year he takes what is basically the Magic 101 class, because he’s obviously got a natural proclivity for it so why not? It’s that format of ‘this is a generic overview of magic in general, let's take a week or two to go over some specifics for different things you might like to study so that you’ll be prepared.’ They spend a bit on magical history, bardic magic, would you like to study wizardry, or maybe the specifics of genetically inherited magics...

Hm. Yes, Hamid would actually like to study the specifics of genetically inherited magics, because everything they’ve gone over vis a vis wizardry is sounding fairly different to his lived experience and Oh Dear

He starts taking more magical history classes on the sly. His parents don’t need to know.

They eventually do find out, and there is what might be described as An Almighty Row. Hamid goes ballistic, his father goes cold, and Hamid declares then and there that he’s changing his major, screw all of this, he’s got one life and he’s going to live it how he wants, damn it.

His family will continue to pay for his school, of course. They don’t want the disgrace of him having to drop out. But his father makes it very clear that if he does decide to study magic instead, he’s not coming home.

Hamid studies magic. Hamid’s not coming home.

Wilde and Hamid met in that introductory class, and continued to be friends even as they never actually managed to take another class together.

Wilde studies bardic performance as a subset of the magic department, is trying really hard to fit in the requirements to get a degree in journalism as well, and also writes for almost every publication on campus, and works with the student theatre groups; they’ve performed some of his plays, and he has also been known to step in as a stage manager or a head of costumes or an assistant director (or even, on one memorable occasion, an actor) when necessary (when does this guy sleep).

Wilde is able to pull strings and charm people in specific ways enough to get Hamid a job as a stitcher in the costume shop with the theatre department, putting costumes together. He also manages to find Hamid a place to stay over winter break while the campus buildings are closed, after it becomes evident that Hamid’s parents won’t be paying for non-university housing anymore.

Hamid ends up staying with Azu, who has her own flat and has been dithering for ages between wanting to become a family practitioner and wanting to become some sort of social worker. Hamid is inconsolable, and Wilde is not good at consoling anyway, but it turns out that Azu is. Hamid helps her reorganise her entire schedule to allow for both eventualities, she listens in rapt attention as he takes her through his designs for the next show the theatre department is putting on, they bond over the fact that they’re both so far from home and far from their families, and by the time everyone else comes back to school and classes start again they’re practically attached at the hip. Hamid spends almost as much time at Azu’s as he does at his own dorm.

Wilde’s like, alright, that worked ridiculously well! Nice job me

Sasha starts out as an engineering student due to a scholarship that Bi-Ming Gusset helped her get, and she is instantly the darling of every engineering professor that has her in their classes; nobody knows anything about her other than that she’s wickedly good at what she does.

Cel, who studies engineering and theoretical physics and takes biology classes wherever they can fit them in, is their TA at one point. Cel is able to find out more about Sasha as a person than anyone else has ever managed- paradoxically, as anyone who watches them interact will note that Sasha never seems to talk and Cel never seems to stop, but, just like the designs they create together, it doesn’t look like it should work, but it does and it’s very hard to explain why.

At some point, to satisfy some general requirement, Sasha takes an education class. Sasha… really enjoys the education class? Sasha might want to study education? Sasha freaks out a bit. Sasha is having a really rough time of it recently, a lot of chronic pain and worrying physical problems with no clear cause, and really doesn’t need to stress about her future plans on top of everything else.

Grizzop is a pre-med and, unlike Azu, 10000% sure of it. He wants to be an EMT, and is part of the emergency response team at the university. When Sasha knocks on Zolf’s door at three in the morning, because he just so happened to be the one who was closest, and tells him that she just fainted for the first time and doesn’t know what to do and feels like she might again, and Zolf panics and calls the first response team, Grizzop is the first one to show up. Which is good, for Sasha, because she’s pretty thoroughly freaked out and desperately in need of friends at her sides.

Zolf is also a pre-med, not really because of any active desire to go into the medical field but just kind of because he needed something to believe in that was an easy ticket away from his family, and if anyone asks it has absolutely nothing to do with his brother’s death, shut up.

Zolf becomes Sasha’s designated Please Come With Me For Moral Support person as she begins a diagnostic process that lasts months and comes up with absolutely nothing. As a result, he’s there to watch as doctor after doctor basically throw up their hands and declare her either a medical oddity or a liar. She and Grizzop are both certain she’s got some sort of chronic illness, some autoimmune disease or something, but no one seems willing to diagnose her.

Zolf loses faith in the institution of medicine as a whole, starts to spiral a bit- and then spirals a lot. He ends up having to take a year off to sort out his life and his brain and his own mental health problems.

He moves out of campus housing and applies for as many jobs as he can- he’s not going home and he’s not asking for money, good grief, he’d rather stick his hands in an air fryer- and ends up with a couple odd jobs he bounces between every week, including constructing sets and running lights for the theatre department. This is how he meets Hamid, who he clashes with instantly, and Wilde, who is stage managing, who he also clashes with instantly but who really does his best to mitigate between them.

Do shenanigans ensue? Yes. Yes, absolutely. Sasha takes great amusement in winding Zolf and Hamid up and pointing them at each other, and Wilde gets caught between finding it equally as hilarious and also Sasha please, it’s literally my job to make sure the people working on this show don’t murder each other, help me out here

#Can you tell I have extensive experience with uni theatre #And also with chronic illness and the medical field as a chronically ill person #my post #my writing #glassandmarigolds #rqg #prompt fill #rusty quill gaming #rqgaming

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mochegato · 4 years

Text

Pixie Spy

Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 4

Marinette laid on Nino’s living room floor studying the stolen Grimoire files on her tablet. She had been staring at the same page for the last two hours, making little progress. Just because she could translate the ancient text, it didn’t mean it was easy or quick. In fact, it was headache inducing and with Adrien focusing on keeping them caught up on homework while she and Chloe were otherwise occupied, she was translating alone. She knew there were amazing secrets held in the texts, the drawings promised amazing new powers for each of the miraculous, she just needed to decode them.

She scrunched her eyes closed and rubbed them to clear her vision that had started crossing. Now, she decided, was a perfect time to take a break. She looked around the room for a distraction. Adrien was near her on the floor, leaning against the couch and working on the physics assignment they had received that day, having already finished the calculus assignment. Alya, having already passed her research onto Chloe, was on the couch working on the French Lit homework. Nino was sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up on Alya’s lap, not working on anything, staring off into space with a furrowed brow instead.

Everyone was working quietly except for Chloe who was making her discontent with her surroundings abundantly clear through her frequent huffs and exaggerated movements. She was sitting in a chair making notes in a notebook referencing her laptop occasionally. She huffed and wiggled uncomfortably in the chair, “Tell me again why we have to do this here?” Chloe demanded, not bothering to mask her disgust with the middle class surroundings.

“We can’t meet in the hotel because we can’t take the chance the Waynes would see Marinette walking in the lobby or the hallway. We can’t meet at Adrien’s place because Asshole Dad. We can’t meet at Marinette’s in case they’ve made her already. That leaves my place or here and my place has the twins who are currently both grounded and bored so… that leaves here.” Alya explained calmly, not bothering to look up from her homework.

“Yeah, yeah, but couldn’t we have met at like a nice café or pub?” Chloe whined, rubbing her arms as though contact with the chair fabric were scratching her.

“And take the texts outside?” Adrien asked with a raised brow motioning toward Marinette.

“Plus until we know how much they know, it is probably best I’m not seen out more than absolutely necessary, hence the…” she indicated the oversized hoodie she had stolen from Kim some time ago she had been wearing all day, mostly with her hood up, completely enveloping her head.

“I thought that was so you could hide from Laurence…” Alya said with a sly grin.

“Or Noelle,” Adrien threw in.

“Or Ignace…” Chloe added, keeping her focus on her laptop.

“Okay stop. Really, Chloe? Wouldn’t you much rather talk about the throngs of people throwing themselves at you?” Marinette attempted to divert her to one of her favorite topics, herself.

“Oh sweetie, we don’t have that kind of time.” Chloe said throwing her ponytail over her shoulder. “We’re just talking about the ten or twenty we know about willing to let you tie them up and beat them like a piñata then thank you for the privilege.”

“That sounds like a regular Saturday night for you, Chlo,” Alya grinned.

“I…I don’t know how to react to that.” Marinette scrunched her face in confusion. “My first inclination is to say she’s exaggerating, but it’s Chloe and if anything she would underplay it. Plus I am extremely not happy with that little insight into Chloe’s bedroom, so… I’m going to ignore this entire conversation.” Marinette said turning back to her tablet.

Adrien looked up from his notes for a few moments staring in thought at nothing, “Valid,” he nodded, turning back to his work as well.

Nino had stayed silent throughout the conversation staring instead unfocused at a spot on the floor for the past few minutes. Adrien glanced back at him with curiosity. “Hey,” he smacked his hand into Nino’s leg, “you okay there? You completely missed us teasing Marinette about her fans. That’s one of your favorite topics.”

“Ahhh, Laurence… yeah, that dude makes me nervous. Michel is cute though. I could see that.” Marinette gave an affronted squawk. Nino continued without acknowledging her, “No, I was just thinking… we know Batman’s secret identity.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said uncertainly.

“And he doesn’t know ours.” Nino continued.

“Right,” Adrien encouraged still not sure where the conversation was going.

“And we have you and Chloe, both pretty famous and could easily end up at a party or event with at least one of them…” Nino mused thinking out loud.

“True.”

“So… how much can we mess with him about it without getting killed?” Nino asked raising his brow with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Dude!” Adrien exclaimed excitedly, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

“You want us to prank the Dark Knight?” Alya looked at him like he was crazy.

“Really?” Marinette deadpanned.

“Yeah, you’re right. It is potentially fraught with danger. We might need to bring Alix and Max in on this.” Nino nodded still thinking about how he could manage it.

Alya dropped her head into her hands, “Idiot.” She muttered shaking her head in her hands, not entirely sure if he was joking or not. Honestly, either option was possible.

“Well, that makes you two perfect for each other,” Chloe deadpanned still focused on writing something down in her notebook missing the withering look Alya shot her.

“Okay Kim,” Marinette rolled her eyes at Nino. She looked uncertain for a moment then pushed herself back until she was sitting on her heels and spoke hesitantly, “Or… we could discuss if we are still certain we don’t want the Batfamily here. Are we sure we don’t want their help?”

“Yes, yes we are,” Alya replied, her voice bordering on disbelief that Marinette would even ask. “We know what the Justice League is like. We know what they’ve done and we have a damn good idea what they could do given half the chance. We gave in on Constantine and look what happened. We cannot trust them.”

“Think about the last few weeks, Marinette. Think how much worse they would have been if those people had powers to begin with and understood the extent of their powers, how to push them, how to exploit them. What to ask for from Hawkmoth to do the most damage?” Nino added.

“The bats don’t have superpowers.” Marinette defended.

“But they work with people who do. They have strategized attack plans around people who have powers. They understand them and what’s most effective…” Chloe added barely looking up from her notepad.

“And they are incredibly well trained in combat and strategic planning… It would be hard enough without them having super powers. With them, we would be fucked.” Adrien added cutting in on Chloe’s statement.

“We are barely keeping up as it is. If one of the bats of Justice League were to get akumatized…” Nino let the statement trail off, allowing everyone to use their imagination to fill in the rest.

“Exactly! We are barely keeping up. Do we need to consider getting help? From someone with more experience and different skills? From someone with experience using superpowers against an opponent?” Marinette ran a hand over her face, “I’m just… I’m getting scared. And I don’t know if that is because I’m seeing a pattern or if I’m just frustrated with where we are and desperate for any change. And the more distance I have from it, the more I wonder if Constantine was right. Is it time to bring someone in, but we’re just too scared to try something different?”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a banal, obvious statement,” she glared at Adrien, “they have a good understanding of powers, their strengths and weaknesses, and how to strategize around them, which would make them powerful akumas, or incredibly advantageous assets against an akuma.” Everyone stared at her in surprise. “Stunned looks terrible on you.” She said making clear she was directing it to all of them. “The silent awe of me is appropriate though.” She said sitting back in her chair only to immediately grunt and start squirming against the fabric again.

“It isn’t just the powers, I don’t trust them, especially Batman. If we give them half the chance, I’m afraid they will try to take the miraculous because they think they could wield them and protect them better.” Adrien admitted.

The group took a second to let both sides of the argument sink in, unsure how to move forward. Both outcomes could lead to horrific outcomes that nobody wanted to allow. They were all afraid and they knew they were, but like Marinette, they didn’t know if the fear was holding them back from making a mistake or from having a breakthrough.

After a few moments of quiet, Nino broke the quiet in a soothing voice, “We have no way to know which way things will tilt. Let’s see what we get from the files and reassess then. No reason to introduce more chaos until we know what we have to work with already. Have you found anything yet?”

“A bit. Ugh,” she said accepting the change of topic and looking at her notebook with disgust, “this would be so much easier if the kwamis could just tell us all the possible uses of the miraculous were and the ways they could be combined.”

“Yeah, but then Hawkmoth would have known too… and Mayura and Argus.” Tikki pointed out.

“That’s a horrifying thought. I don’t think we could have taken Hawkmoth and Mayura when we started if they had known all their options.” Adrien shuttered thinking about it.

“That’s why they created the rule that kwami could only tell the very basic powers and responsibilities. Anything more than that can only come from the Order, so if anyone stole a miraculous, they wouldn’t be able to effectively wield it, making it easier for trained wielders to get it back.” Trixx said.

“A bit more effective back when there was an Order and masters who actually trained wielders, but you know, times change,” Plagg shrugged with a thinly disguised disgust.

“Okay but let me just say not having known this,” Marinette turned the tablet around for them to see the image of the dragon miraculous she had been studying, “was an option is extremely upsetting.”

“Dibs!” Nino called out, jumping up from the couch before anyone else could call it.

“Fuck you, I saw it first. I’ve got dibs. I’ve got plans for it.” Marinette blew him off.

“No way, you’re going to see all of them first.” Nino pouted.

Marinette grinned at him, “Guardian” she singsonged.

Trixx floated up closer to the tablet. “Oh that one. Yeah, everyone likes that one. It’s actually just a variation of the power you know already so it is a lot easier to pick up than it looks.”

Plagg floated next to her to check it out too. “If you like that one, just wait until you find out about…” his sentence was cut off by an overflow of green bubbles falling out of his mouth, causing him to glare at nothing and everything at the same time.

“Okay enough of that. My turn.” Chloe announced turning her laptop to display pictures of each of the Waynes and their alter egos.

Adrien leaned forward to get a closer look at the images and suddenly his eyes got huge and he gasped, “Oh my God… in the name of all that is holy and good in this world, please tell me the one in the godawful, Red Skull wannabe mask is the one you were making heart eyes at all night. Please, please, please…” Adrien begged Marinette.

Marinette refused to meet his eyes and pursed her lips, focusing intently on the laptop. “No comment.”

“It is him! Can I please, please be there when you ‘discuss’ that mask with him before we kick him out?” Adrien said shaking with delight at the thought of it.

Marinette glared at him, “We are going to be focusing on getting them out of Paris without drawing further curiosity or ire, not their wardrobe.” She pointed out turning to Chloe with an expectant look trying to prompt her to continue but couldn’t stop herself from whipping back toward Adrien, “And, I don’t even know if he was even interested in me at all. It’s far more likely they are concerned about the situation than he is about getting a date.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, “You’re not that stupid, Dupain-Cheng. The honeypotting wouldn’t have worked if he wasn’t interested.”

“I did NOT honeypot him…. And I still don’t know what that means!” Marinette yelled exasperated.

“Yeah, yeah. But I get to be there right?” Adrien implored ignoring her annoyance and still not giving her a definition. At this point, it was a matter of pride… or comedy. Either way, he was dedicated to never telling her what it meant.

“Oooooo and me too,” Alya jumped in.

“You should just leave your com on so we can all hear.” Chloe commented with feigned disinterest.

“We should put it on speaker. The kwamis will want to hear it too.” Nino agreed with a grin.

“I hate all of you,” Marinette grumbled crossing her arms in front of her as she pouted.

Adrien chuckled at her before putting her out of her misery, “Okay, Chlo. What did you figure out?”

“So, I focused on Bruce Wayne, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne. I couldn’t get an identity on Spoiler and there is no public information on Cassandra Cain, who is probably Batgirl, so I could only look at her vigilante work. But if Constantine is right, they are both still in Shanghai. It is unlikely they would have brought them in just to talk with us. So for tonight, they don’t matter.” Chloe explained before continuing with her analysis.

“The rest of the Wayne family are a treasure trove of insecurities, pressure points, and triggers. I’m just going to go over the biggest ones since we hopefully will only have to deal with them for a few minutes at the most. These unstable assholes are definitely Hawkmoth’s wet dream. Extremely well trained and no control over their emotions. All have extreme versions of insecurity complexes, but react differently.

“Bruce Thomas Wayne is a control freak. His public persona isn’t much help. As far as I can tell, most of it is a mask. He pretends to be a drunk, irresponsible, billionaire playboy but we know he’s Batman so all that is bullshit. What isn’t is that he is a good negotiator and actor, all of which means he can be a good manipulator and we know from his experience as Batman that he is extremely strategic. Be suspect of anything he tells you. His intentions appear to stem from a genuine concern with making lives better, but how much he is willing to listen to other people’s opinion of what constitutes better is questionable, especially after what we know of the Justice League’s actions. He has a history of enforcing his vision onto other people, whether they want it or not, of taking control. He needs to be in control, or feel like he is so he can prepare for what is coming and make sure it doesn’t turn against him.

“The oldest, Richard John Grayson, has a martyr complex. He’s so devoted to the saving people thing he became a cop in his civilian life as well, by all accounts an uncorrupt one, and that’s saying something in Gotham and Blüdhaven. Takes on too much at one time trying to fix everything and feels responsible for every bad thing that happens, even if he wasn’t there… especially if he wasn’t there, to stop it. If he only would have done whatever, then the bad thing wouldn’t have happened. If only he was better, blah, blah, blah. Sound familiar?” she looks pointedly at Marinette. “That’s his weakest spot. He takes the blame.

“The next, Jason Peter Todd has abandonment issues. He’s constantly waiting for people to walk away from him like his parents did. There is something more there, I know there is, like whatever happened when he disappeared for a few years, but we don’t have access to that information. Ridiculously protective of kids on the street, I think because he essentially grew up on them himself. But, here’s the catch, he became a crime lord in order to protect them. He is willing to go dark to protect people, so they never have to feel like he did and never have to do what he had to do. He’s straightforward and aggressive. He feels like everyone is going to walk away from him because he isn’t enough for them to stay. He’s dangerous.

“The next, Timothy Jackson Drake has inadequacy issues. Wealthy, absentee parents who likely never treated him like anything more than a business asset.” She looked sympathetically at Adrien. “He is a certified genius. Started running Wayne Enterprises a few years ago. He likes a challenge and is an incredible negotiator. He likes working things out on his own. He’s smart and curious. He knows exactly what to ask in order to get the information he needs without you even knowing that’s what he did. Be careful answering any questions or reacting to any statements from him. He is constantly trying to prove himself so people will love him. He takes any failure extremely personally because it means he doesn’t deserve love and a reminder that he isn’t who he thought he was and therefore not worthy.

“The youngest, Damian Wayne, known as the Ice Prince in Gotham, has a superiority complex. Nobody gets close to him and nobody wants to. He showed up in Gotham at age 10 with a fully-fledged attitude. Everyone and everything is beneath him. He also drives himself to extremes in order to confirm his superiority. He insults and belittles others because he believes he should be superior to everyone around him, but he is afraid he isn’t and if he isn’t better, then he is significantly worse.”

The rest of the room looked at her sympathetically. They all knew she wasn’t just talking about Damian. That was her up until a few years ago. She needed to believe she was better than everyone else and needed everyone around her to believe it too. If she was better then she deserved her parents’ love. If she had everyone else’s love, it made it easier to fool herself into believing her parents loved her as well, or blunt the feeling when she would realize just how much they didn’t. But years of therapy, a higher purpose, and real friends that truly wanted the best for her but refused to take any shit from her, made her realize she didn’t need to be that person to deserve love.

“Also keep in mind there are likely significant trust issues going on here.” Chloe continued ignoring the looks from the rest of the room. “There are a lot of reports of violence between Red Hood and Red Robin, Red Hood and Robin, Red Hood and… everyone actually, as well as Robin and Red Robin. Based on fact that violence is higher immediately after a changing of the guard, I’d say the passing of the mantle from one Robin to another has never been consensual and likely contributed to their complexes. They are held together by the thinnest of threads. We can snap that if we need to… but I don’t think we want to go that far. If we snap that… I don’t know how much damage that will do or if they will come back from it.” She cautioned hesitantly.

“Agreed. I don’t want to go there. There is plenty to use without going into the family issues, without causing irreparable damage.” Marinette concurred. They didn’t want the Bat family in Paris but they didn’t want to destroy them either. She wasn’t willing to let herself or her team become monsters in order to stop them. At the end of the day, they were ultimately all on the same team, they all wanted the same outcome, they just had different ways they wanted to get there… and different ideas about who got to decide that… and who should lead it…

“God these people need a hug not whatever that ‘family’ of theirs is providing each other.” Nino said aghast at the report.

“Marinette’s already on top of that, at least for one of them…” Alya smirked.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her.

“I’m on top of that one,” Nino grinned, raising his hand.

“Oh God. Seriously we need to investigate that brain bleach thing,” Marinette groaned squeezing her eyes shut trying to keep that image from appearing.

“Okay,” Adrien announced over everyone, “we all agree after this whole Hawkmoth thing is over, I get to kick Constantine’s ass and we all portal over to the Batcave and hug the insecure, unfairly cute, prickly, little echidnas until they feel better, right?” Adrien asked solemnly.

“Ugh, fine but I’m not hugging the gremlin. Someone else gets that one,” Chloe called out throwing out her arms.

The room stilled as everyone else looked at each other, “Not it!” they all called at almost the exact same moment.

“Damn it,” Nino cried as he realized he had been a few seconds slower than everyone else.

“That’s what you get for being a turtle. When the confrontation happens, I got the pampered rich kid.” Chloe announced. This was her area. She knew just where to push kids like that, like her. She knew exactly what to say to get them, her, to hit them at their most vulnerable. To push just enough to make an impact without breaking them.

“No, Chloe. We don’t want to tip our hand and we need you guys to stand sentry. I want you, Alya, and Nino to hang back acting as scouts. This is likely to go bad and I need you guys in a triangular formation a block out watching for akumas. Adrien and I will talk to them.”

“Alone?” Nino asked tentatively. His job was to protect. He didn’t like the idea of not being close enough to act if they should need it.

“They aren’t going to attack us, at least not physically. And we will take an extra miraculous each.” Marinette smiled gently to placate him.

“Are you sure two is enough, m’lady?” Adrien asked curiously.

“You sure you aren’t just trying to keep it a bit more intimate for you and your boy?” Alya waggled her eyebrows.

Marinette glared at her, “Two should be enough.” She said ignoring the previous statement, “Combined with your two, we should be able to cover what we need to. It’s just the Batfamily. We should be able to handle them with just one each even if they wanted to attack us.” She grinned at Adrien. “Magic, gotta love it.”

“Okay but when he calls you incompetent, which he will, you need to push back. Point out the ways he’s failed. He isn’t better than us, no matter what he thinks and the sooner you make him realize that, the sooner the real conversation can start.” Chloe warned.

“He is all of, what, 13? We are not going to try to emotionally damage a child.” Nino stated flatly.

“As long as he thinks he is better than us, he won’t take us seriously.” Chloe warned. Nino just glared back at her, not willing to give in on this. “Fine, if you don’t want to point out his failings, then point out the most impressive things we’ve done that they haven’t. That should suffice. Not as effective, but it should get you there.”

“Okay, if we’re going to start discussing strategy, we’re going to need some sustenance. Let’s get dinner ready so we can start discussing the plan for tonight,” Alya said throwing Nino’s legs off her lap. Marinette and Nino followed her to the kitchen leaving Chloe and Adrien behind.

“You know, I noticed something with your analysis, Chloe,” Adrien started quietly keeping his eyes on their friends.

“I would hope you noticed more than just one thing,” Chloe chided him.

“Cute,” he said rolling his eyes, “Jason was the only one you said was dangerous, why is that?

“I thought it was obvious? The others have a limit. I don’t know that he does. And Marinette likes him, a lot. He has a power to hurt her that the others don’t. And they are very different. They are both willing to go as far as necessary to help others, but to her that means killing herself, to him that means killing everyone else and himself,” She looked at him uncertainly, “and I’m not sure how she will react to that.”

“You think he would do that if we let him stay here?”

“I don’t know enough about him to predict what he will do. He dialed it back to work with the bats again but… There really isn’t that much on him. I can tell you what Red Hood has done and that is bad, but not Jason Todd. Since he disappeared, presumed dead, hell maybe he was, who knows what happens in Gotham, there is nothing on Jason Todd. If you want me to try to predict, you can hop on down to Africa and see if you can borrow the kwami of prediction. Until then, it’s all guesswork. I need to see him. See how he acts before I could even try.”

He stared at her for a few seconds a look of utter confusion on his face, “You think the kwami of prediction is in Africa?”

“Do you ever hear any miraculous related shit doing down in Africa?” she fixed him with a knowing stare.

“No,” he said cautiously

“Exactly, because they know what’s coming and they do their fucking jobs.” She winked at him and walked away.

<><><><><>

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Damian sat in the living area of Bruce’s hotel room in various states of suited up for the night. They had barely had time to throw their bags in their rooms before meeting up to prepare for the night. Damian was completely dressed and ready to go on a moment’s notice, as always more than ready to focus on business. Bruce and Tim were in everything but their masks, choosing comfort until they had to leave. Jason was sitting in a large chair in just his pants and shirt, attempting to look relaxed and nonchalant about them being so close to the girl he met at the gala. They were all staring at a massive screen linking them to Dick, Alfred, and Selina in the Batcave.

“So, how’s Paris, boys?” Selina asked from her position lounging in one of the chairs. “Meet any interesting people yet? Jason?” She added with a smirk.

“You know Bruce, all work and no play. We haven’t gotten a chance to get out and meet anyone. Doing this instead.” Jason shrugged with a practiced indifference, forcing himself to recline further back into the chair in an effort to seem casual.

“Haven’t even gotten to see the Eiffel Tower yet?” She asked in mock sympathy.

“Oh, no, we saw it… from the plane.” Jason played along.

“You really should make sure to visit the Eiffel Tower while there, Master Bruce.” Alfred threw in trying to downplay his amused smile.

“It’s not as impressive as you think it will be,” Tim muttered to nobody in particular.

“We’re here for a reason, Jason. If we don’t want to lose today, we need to get started immediately…” Bruce admonished him but upon looking up and seeing Alfred’s unimpressed look added, “We can get lunch near the Eiffel Tower tomorrow. Better?” He looked to Alfred who switched to small smile instead. Taking that as approval, Bruce nodded to Tim indicating they were ready for him to start his presentation.

Tim nodded to Bruce and moved to the front of the group and pulled up an image from the Ladyblog displaying five superheroes and their names on half of the screen. “I’ve found a few local resources on the heroes we couldn’t see back home and have downloaded their contents and sent them back to you guys,” he said nodding toward the half of the screen displaying the cave, “so you can look through the information as well. I’m not sure what is preventing the data from being accessible from America, but I suspect magic.” He glared at the screen like it personally offended him, “I hate magic.

“I’ve only had about 30 minutes to prepare so this is going to be brief. I mainly focused on… well actually I mainly focused on figuring out the best resources for information, downloading copies of the site content, and sending a copy back to the batcomputer. But after that, I mainly focused on figuring out who the heroes are so we know who we might run into and who to look for tonight.

“The available information indicates a villain named Hawkmoth appeared in Paris roughly five years ago…”

“Huh. Where have I heard that before?” Jason muttered from his seat.

“… and the heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared at the same time.” Tim continued a bit louder this time. “There appear to be five regular heroes and a few heroes that appear from time to time. Here are images of the heroes we know about,” he nodded to the image on the screen. He switched briefly to another image displaying the lesser known heroes before returning to the image of the main five heroes. “Not every battle is caught on camera and of the battles that are caught, most of the actual fighting is not caught, making it easy to miss heroes and villains in the fight. The resources make it clear there likely are more heroes that we don’t know about, which I would say is a definite since your girlfriend didn’t appear on any of the sites.” He nodded toward Jason who just huffed and crossed his arms in response, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“The primary heroes are Ladybug and Chat Noir, with Ladybug as the leader. Those are the two we need to convince if we want any information. We know a few identities of past heroes, including a girl who lives in this hotel, Chloe Bourgeois. She was a bee themed heroine named Queen Bee. Since then another bee themed heroine has appeared and is one of the 5 regulars.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at the screen, “It looks like the same person. Could it be her in a different costume?”

“I don’t think so,” Tim answered shaking his head, “When I was looking at her page on the sites I think I saw that she has been seen at the same time as the new bee hero. I can analyze it more when I get more time, but the local experts don’t appear to think they are. We don’t know the identity of the new bee.”

“You think they look similar?” Dick asked incredulously. “You’re crazy. Their costume, hair color, eye color, height, everything is different.” Jason looked between Dick and the image of the two bee wielders a few times. One of them was crazy, he just wasn’t sure which one of them it was.

“Figure out where she lives then you should arrange to run into her tomorrow.” Bruce said nodding toward Tim.

Tim gave a single nod to Bruce accepting the assignment. “There seems to have been a massive overhaul of heroes about a year into the fight. All of the heroes except Ladybug and Chat Noir were replaced with new heroes. No explanation was given… or maybe there is one I just haven’t found it yet.”

Damian scoffed, “There’s one villain and five or more heroes and they haven’t been able to take him down? Pathetic. These are the people entrusted with objects capable to destroying the world?”

“I haven’t been able to get much information yet so we don’t know exactly what is going on but it looks like there is more than just Hawkmoth. He might be a leader or mastermind behind the villains. I’ve seen at least a few other villain names mentioned when looking up the heroes.”

“Do we think they all have a miraculous as well?” Dick asked.

“Not sure. I haven’t gotten that far yet, but it stands to reason.” Tim nodded absentmindedly.

Jason moved closer to the screen staring intently at the pictures of Ladybug from different years. There was something familiar about her but there was something else sitting on the edge of his consciousness, he just needed to figure out what his subconscious was trying to tell him. His eyebrows furrowed and he narrowed his eyes trying to block out anything but the images. His eyes widened as the realization suddenly hit him, “Mother fucker!” He whipped around to Tim, “Do we have any indication of how old these heroes are? They look like babies in those older pictures.”

Tim shrugged, “Haven’t gotten that far yet so, not sure. But I glanced at a section on Ladybug and Chat Noir throughout history so at least for them, somewhere between 5 and 5000. I should have a better idea tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to read a bit more.” He squinted at the pictures, “You think they look young?”

“You don’t?” Jason asked incredulously.

Damian examined the images a bit harder as well. “They do seem around my age in the first images.”

“Really? I’m with Tim, I can’t tell either. I can’t get a good feel for age when I look at the pictures.” Dick’s voice came over the speaker. “That’s strange. Their faces are at least partially exposed. I should be able to get an idea at least.” He paused for a few seconds. “Do you think the magic is helping conceal their identities as well?”

Tim stared at the images as well, moving slowly closer to them, “Maybe,” he nodded subconsciously, “I can’t get a feel either. The longer I stare at them the harder it is to tell anything.”

“Magic.” Bruce shook his head in disgust. “Anything else to tell us tonight, Tim?”

Tim shook his head “Not today. I’ll have more tomorrow.”

Bruce nodded a thanks and switched places with Tim. Damian scowled at Tim and moved to put some distance between him and Tim. Tim fought off rolling his eyes in annoyance, but only just managed it. Bruce turned to the rest of the team, “Okay, as soon as we are done here, we’ll start scouting the city to see if we can make contact. We are not looking to be too subtle with this. We want them to know we are here. If you catch sight of them, let the rest of us know we will send someone to talk to them about a meeting later tonight or tomorrow. I want to make this very clear. Our goal today is to meet the local heroes and set up a meeting in the next few days in order to gather more information. The primary mission is recon. We have no idea what exactly is going on here or how dangerous it is. We are not engaging tonight. We want them to trust us, think we’re on their side, and get as much information out of them as we can, on the situation and the miraculous.”

“If we want them to trust us, we should leave the rabid squirrel here. Or better yet, send his petty ass home. He’s only going to cause trouble.” Jason griped, motioning toward Damian. Tim did roll his eyes this time. It was a stupid fight to pick. Damian wasn’t going anywhere. Damian wanted to come and Bruce gave in. They were just on containment duty now, trying to minimize the damage Damian would do.

“You’ve made your feelings more than abundantly clear on the matter, Little Wing, frequently. Damian is there now. Deal with it.” Dick reprimanded him, tired of this conversation. Jason hadn’t gotten his way in their discussion in the Batcave. He hadn’t gotten his way discussing it the next day. He hadn’t gotten his way in the car on the way to the airport or boarding the plane or on the plane or deplaning or while checking into the hotel, he wasn’t going to get Damian kicked off the mission now.

“Someone needs to be there to make sure you don’t tell them all our secrets trying to impress some vapid, philistine harpy.” Damian snapped turning his back to Jason.

It was a small miscalculation, but in this family that is all that is needed. By moving away from Tim, he had placed himself close to Jason and by turning, he had left himself open to Jason’s much longer arm reach. Jason grabbed Damian’s cape and yanked back sharply. “Watch your mouth, you puerile, creepy, little shit.” Damian let out a startled grunt before landing with a loud thump on the ground. He growled at Jason and tensed to pounce on him.

“Jason!” Bruce admonished moving between the two boys. “Let’s focus on the mission.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Of fucking course that would be Bruce’s reaction. “Right. Don’t want to prevent the oncoming disaster if it’s coming from inside the house.” He leaned back in the chair with a huff. “You want to focus on the mission, Old Man? Fine. Coming at them with an almost full team that includes this asshole,” he motioned toward Damian, “doesn’t exactly scream ‘trust us’, does it? Do we really want everyone to show up to this thing? Maybe one or two of you should stay in the room.”

“Considering your girlfriend threatened to leave us bloody and broken, more is probably a safer bet. We probably should have insisted on Dick coming as well, maybe have the girls meet us here too. And do you really want to leave Damian unsupervised?” Tim asked with a raised brow fully facing him. The only way to attempt to contain Damian at this point was to keep him close and Jason knew it.

“You could stay with him. We weren’t planning on actually having a discussion tonight anyway. That way you could get more research done and someone could watch the child.” Jason reasoned. Tim nodded in thought. Not a bad idea at all. He would like more time to research before they actually interacted with any of the heroes. But it came from Jason so there must be something wrong with it. He just needed to figure out what it was.

Damian growled at the description. “I am not a child.”

Jason scoffed back at him, “You act like one.”

Damian jumped at him flipping midair and unsheathing his katana, landing with it a few centimeters from Jason’s jugular, “Could a child do that?”

“One just did.” Jason glowered at him, hitting the sword away.

“Jason has a point.” Dick spoke up, breaking the tension. Damian whipped his head to Dick’s image on the screen his face giving away a flash of hurt before almost immediately schooling his expression into a blank look.

“Did that hurt to say?” Jason asked with a smirk, “It looked like it hurt. That’s okay sometimes the most satisfying things do.”

“Yeah, that’s healthy,” Tim muttered to himself.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued on, ignoring Jason, “Sending so many, especially hostile ones, looks like a power play. It looks like you’re trying to intimidate them.”

“We are,” Damian snapped at him.

“You aren’t.” Dick corrected him. “You’re trying to get them on your side. You are trying to get them to trust you. Not scare them.”

“We won’t all show up to meet them. I’ll take the lead along with Tim. Jason and Damian will hold back and watch.” Bruce clarified. “For tonight I want everyone out and about so we can cover more ground and hopefully either run into one of the heroes or make our presence known enough to get their attention for tomorrow.”

“If this” Damian indicated all of them in the room, “is all it takes to scare them, they need our help more than we thought.”

“He didn’t say it would scare them, he said it looks like we are trying to scare them.” Jason responded with a sharp edge to his voice.

“You’re welcome to stay back in the room.” Tim offered annoyed with the conversation.

“I have information I want too” Jason growled at him.

“We are not here to get information on that woman.” Tim rebuked him.

“You aren’t” Jason muttered turning away.

“Jason” Bruce said sternly, “We are here to collect data on the miraculous and the heroes and see how much danger we and the world are in and if something needs to be done.”

“Not get you a date with a girl you don’t know and don’t even know if she is interested.” Tim taunted him.

“This is not about getting a date,” Jason defended himself.

Tim, Dick, and Damian all scoffed in unison while Bruce and Alfred gave Jason a skeptical look. Selina sat in the background with an amused smile. Really, the only result she was interested in from this mission was Jason finding his girl.

Jason glared at him before turning to Bruce, “I know what we’re here for…” He wouldn’t turn a date down if it should come up and if he managed to find her, he was definitely going to ask her. But, his priority was to help her, which meant both finding her and getting information on the miraculous. If he wanted to achieve both of his goals, he first needed to focus on that the family wanted… for now, so they would be distracted and he could focus on his other mission alone. “What exactly were you thinking might need to be done?”

“Whatever we have to.” Bruce responded calmly but with steel in his eyes.

Jason furrowed his brows at Bruce. That explanation was significantly more hostile than the original mission statement. Not that he was surprised, but Bruce stating it so plainly meant he considered it a higher probability. “That’s a far cry from the ‘we’re just gathering information’ mission you extolled earlier.” Jason gritted out.

“It’s all related.” Bruce stated.

“Why do you think we’re here, Todd? We need to figure out if we need to acquire the miraculous and how to do so.” Damian snapped at him.

“You’re planning on taking the miraculous?” Tim rounded on Bruce, his confusion evident, having come to the same conclusion as Jason. “You said over and over again you didn’t think we needed to worry about the girl that broke into the cave and now you’re planning on stealing their miraculous?”

“We are not going to steal their miraculous!” Jason exclaimed. What the hell was going on? He had thought they were making progress. Bruce agreed to investigate and offer help fight Paris’ villain and now they were planning on taking out the heroes themselves.

“We are going to assess the situation.” Bruce clarified trying to pacify them and bring emotions down to a quiet rumbling rather than a full out roar. Completely content was never an option and Bruce knew it.

“We wouldn’t steal Green Lantern’s ring, we shouldn’t even be thinking about touching theirs.” Jason yelled.

“We would if he were evil.” Dick reasoned, not at all surprised by the turn of events and long past getting upset when Bruce made plans like these. Bruce liked to be prepared. The Paris heroes might not ever do anything evil. They might become allies, but that wouldn’t stop Bruce from figuring out their weaknesses and how to take them down should the need arise.

“If they were evil, Constantine wouldn’t be helping them.” Jason argued back, his face starting to turn red, “Not wanting to have you interfere doesn’t make them evil B.” Jason argued back.

“We are not planning on taking anything, but we need to be prepared if things go bad. We don’t know enough to even begin to guess what could go wrong to cause us to step in. At this stage, we are just trying to get an idea what is going on so we can get a better idea of what to ask later so we can make a plan.” Bruce started moving toward the balcony doors as he pulled on his cowl, “Now finish suiting up. Let’s go.”

“Oh this is going to go just fucking swimmingly,” Jason muttered under his breath as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his helmet. Tim hummed in agreement and started bracing for the worst, which was standard practice at this point.

Chapter 5

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Note: *Sigh* I honestly thought they would meet again, kinda, in this chapter, but then they didn’t, the unruly bastards. So very sorry. Next chapter I promise! I swear it is the next scene.

#maribat #jasonette #Pixie Spy

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

Text

Out of the Lion’s Den

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape (not against the reader), attempted rape and assault (against the reader) angst, cursing, insults, the usual super dramatic shit you see in the taken down of an unsub

A/N: Wowie wow wow wow, so this is kinda long. And I know I said I was gonna post it like two days ago, HOWEVER! In my defense, I started writing it and then about halfway through I accidentally closed tumblr so it deleted everything I had. So I went to bed defeated. But it’s here now, that’s the important thing, right? Remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and just be your usual amazing selves and give me the attention that my parents never gave me as the oldest of eight. As always, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four ]

December 1998

It felt good to be back home in Georgia. The wind whipped at the trees outside of the diner you and you best friend were currently catching up at. The waitress, Flora, knows you by name and sets your usual in front of you with a ruffle of your hair and a couple of southern endearments.

“Tell me everything.” Madalyn says, reaching across the table for the ketchup that was placed on your side of the booth. You swat at her hand when she makes a grab for one of your fries. Her laugh is loud and feels like home, making you smile into your drink in a way you haven’t smiled all semester.

“I’d like to preface this conversation by saying that I feel like this would be a much cooler experience if I were the same age as everyone else.” You point out, brushing your growing bangs away from your eyes with an annoyed swat. Her eyes soften with sympathy, swirling a fry into the ketchup tucked into a safe space on her plate. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing that you have more to say.

“The classes are awesome. The campus is beautiful. I learn something new all the time, which was never happening when I was going to school here,” you pause long enough to glance around the room. It’s packed with all kinds of people, from old men clustered at the counter sipping on coffees to construction workers munching on hamburgers during their break, even big families squished into booths and tables for a nice Sunday family lunch.

“But?” You shrug in response, knowing that Madalyn will be able to read you like an open book if you meet her eyes. Across the table, the amateur profiler squints her dark eyes at you with suspicion.

“Everyone just kinda avoids me. The guys are cute, but they’re all nineteen and twenty. Most of the things to do on campus, you have to be eighteen for, so I mostly just spend my time at the library or at Aunt May’s doing homework.” At this, Madalyn stops eating, raising her eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

“I bet your grades are super rad,” You resist the urge to throw a French fry in her face after what she says next. “And besides, I’m the only friend you need in your life.”

“Actually, I have made a kind of friend?” Flora is over before you can finish the drink in your cup, filling the glass with a dark, blue pitcher. When you thank her, she reaches out to pat your cheek, mumbling something about missing you while you were gone.

“Should I be jealous? Is she pretty? She may be a big sister type, but I’m your soulmate.” You laugh into your sandwich having to cover your mouth when you take a bite and the laughter doesn’t go away.

Madalyn has been your best friend for four years, although time seems to have no meaning in your relationship because nobody would doubt it if you told them you’d known her since birth. While most kids in your age group had grown up thinking you were odd, Madalyn had decided that you were just interesting. That interest had turned into a friendship that would span years and miles more than many friendships do.

While the things you both enjoyed, like Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck, certainly brought you together, it was your differences that made you click like the pieces of a puzzle. Only true friends can debate on opposite sides of an argument and then end the night eating popcorn while watching Space Jam in the living room.

“His name is Harvey.” When Madalyn’s eyebrows go up this time, it is from surprise. You’ve never been one to socialize with anyone of the opposite gender, much less become ‘kinda friends’ with them. Plus, as a young lady of very womanly curves, she’s quite aware of the way some guys cross the line on a regular basis.

“(Y/N)-” You wave your hand in the air, once again pushing at the bangs that keep falling in your face. You should have never cut them in the first place, and you never would have if you realized what a hassle they would be when you started growing them out.

“I don’t like him like that. He’s just a really nice guy, helps me with homework and walks me to a class or two. We’ve never even met up outside of school.” Her eyes are still narrowed, a stray dark wave falling from the hair comb that pins the top half of her hair away from her face.

Eventually, she changes the subject. Trusting that you are smart enough to know when things have gotten out of hand and how to take care of it.

“So why are you growing your bangs out? I thought you liked them. Didn’t you say they make you look more grown up?” You unstick your thighs from the leather booth seat, pinning her with a look that she knows all too well.

“Now that’s a crazy story.” She also makes herself comfortable in her seat, preparing herself for a story. It’s probably a good thing you’re a phenomenal story teller, or else she would have gotten tired of all the stories you tell really quickly.

“So last month a girl comes forward and reports that she was cornered by a man she didn’t know on her way from the library back to her dorm. He held her at gun point and rapes her. It got kinda big, because she was rallying a group of men and women to escort girls around campus. And, I mean, I understand the unease she must feel, and I was sympathetic, but I was kind of confused why there was so much uproar over one rape.”

Having finished your own fries, you reach across the table and steal one from your outraged best friend. Before she can grab it back, you’ve shoved it into your mouth.

“Until a second girl comes forward and says that she reported the same thing happening to her a month ago. The campus, meanwhile, is doing nothing about it. No increased security, no curfew, not even acknowledged them.”

“For two girls?”

“For five,” The pause you take is natural, scooting the bottom of your cup across the tabletop so you could sip from the straw without picking the cup up, but it reads as dramatic effect. “And that’s not even the craziest part.”

One dark eyebrow raised into her hairline, waiting for you to continue the story and also answer the question.

“Every victim was a freshman, so they’re a little on the younger side, they all had the same hair color and style, all had the same body type, all were the same height, all had the same eye color.” This time you do pause for dramatic effect, using the silence to build the tension.

“And all of them look exactly like me. Bangs and all.”

Madalyn leans forward a little, suddenly very worried about you going back next month. As she hurriedly tries to make sure you are taking the necessary precautions during a scary time like this, Flora floats around the diner, stopping to fill up the cup of a single man just behind your booth. All he has is black coffee, a textbook of some kind is splayed open across the table but he doesn’t seem to be too interested in it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, his ears listening to your every word.

“So in summary, I’m growing out my bangs because that’s obviously apart of this dude’s type.” Madalyn doesn’t protest anymore when you reach for another fry on her plate.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m going to be fine. I’ll even color my hair if you’re so worried.” And the conversation continues, your best friend overly worried about you and your life as a fifteen year old college student, and you masking your fear for appearances sake. Harvey, however, finishes his coffee and asks for the bill.

He thought you were smarter than that. He thought you were smart enough to connect the dots and at least notice that he’d done all of it for you. That you were his everything. Apparently that was wrong. One day you’ll figure it out, of that he is certain.

For now though, you don’t even notices when he passes your table to get to the door.

Present Day

Spencer steps away from the car door, the cool wind hitting his cheeks and tousling his hair. It helps the dizziness in his head, and the nausea in his stomach, but it doesn’t help the sharp pain in his heart. His brain is swimming in all of the information, putting the pieces of the crime scene together like it was a puzzle.

“He left her in the driver’s seat after stabbing her from the backseat, walking around the front before knocking her out and carrying her to his own vehicle.” JJ looks back at the car, peering around crime scene analysts as they hurry about collecting evidence.

“She tried to leave, but her tires spun in the mud.” Rossi notes, nodding to the mud splatter along the sides of your car and the tiny graves each tire has dug into the ground for itself.

“There’s blood in the back.” Spencer finally speaks, looking away from the backseat window and back to his two partners. All eyes flick to the back seat where there is indeed two drops of blood on the floor and a smear of it on the headrest of the passenger seat.

“If he’s in any system then we’ll catch him.” Rossi said, nodding for the techs to collect what they could from the back. Spencer turns back to the car, well aware that there wasn’t anything else here for them the find that would lend them any information as to your whereabouts.

“In a system or not, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth before I let him get away with this.”

Back at the BAU, Prentiss makes calls to your mother and your best friend, Madalyn. Both answer on the first ring, and both are all the more willing to answer any questions that may assist the team in finding the man who had taken you.

“Is there anyone you remember (Y/N) mentioning that maybe stood out to you or her as creepy and stalkerish?” Your mother doesn’t recall anyone, having been focused on so many different cases during your childhood and having been so distant from you since you decided to not become a detective.

Madalyn, however, is quick to answer with a name Prentiss recalls crossing off the list of persons of interest.

“Harvey Morgenstein. They were friends in college, and although it weirded me out because he was a lot older than her at the time, he seemed harmless and I trusted (Y/N). But then he became her agent’s personal assistant all coincidentally and it just seemed too fishy to me.” Prentiss writes the name down, sliding it across the table with a pointed look at Garcia.

As quick as lightning, Harvey’s life history is pulled up between computer screens for both women to delve into.

Harvey is a short man with a wide build that, in earlier pictures, shows him to be more soft than muscly. His hair is dirty blonde but his eyes are two dark circles of coal that seem to pierce through the screen and into the souls of both Penelope and Emily.

“He’s totally not creepy looking.” Garcia remarks sarcastically, eyes sweeping across the information given to her the way Reid’s eyes might fly up and down the pages of a book or a case file.

“Tell me about it.” Emily replies, leaning into the seat designated for those on the team who so wished to give Penelope a visit while remaining off their feet.

“Harvey is a pretty normal guy for the most part. Single child of a Harvey and Lucille Morgenstein. Graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a major in computer technology, minor in criminology.”

“The same graduating class as (Y/N).” Prentiss notes, her eyes just behind Garcia’s as articles and documents fly around the computer. Where some people talked with their hands, Garcia talked with her screens. The constant tap-tap-tapping of rings and fingers against the keyboard was like the audible churnining of cogs in her brain.

“Yeah, he spent some time as an IT guy at Georgetown before he got a job as a personal assistant. The only spot on his squeaky clean record that I can find is that he was a person of interest in a few rape cases involving some girls on campus back in the late 90’s, but he had alibis for every single one so they let him walk.” The pictures of every victim pop up across the screen in the form of a newspaper article talking about the serial rappings.

Gasps come from both their mouths as the dots connect.

“Call Reid and the others, and then call the agent. I think I may know what is going on.”

A couple of hours later and the pieces are all starting to come together.

Harvey had been the serial rapist from the 90s, attacking women who looked like you out of anger over not having you for himself, and pure obsession. After graduation, he tried to move on by distancing himself from you, but when his mother was diagnosed with cancer he fell back into his old stalkerish ways.

He followed your every move through your agent, who was the only person you spoke to the most outside of your mom and Madalyn.

After a little digging into unsolved rape cases in the area, it was obvious from the victimology and an oddly specific M.O. where he bit each of his victims on the neck, that he had also fallen back into his perverted rapist ways.

Harvey might have been content to stay like that, an obvious self esteem issue keeping him from ever approaching you directly for a date, until a month ago. Not even two days after the death of his sick mother, you and Spencer went on your first date outside of the bookstore. A double trigger.

In a sick and twisted display of love, Harvey started killing people the way you’d written deaths in your books. But with every death you continued to ignore him and see Spencer.

“Eventually it all became too much for him to handle and he snapped, kidnapping (Y/N) and calling to taunt Reid over his victory.” Hotch passed a hand over his face. The sirens blared loudly as they raced for Harvey’s house just outside of Quantico.

“This guy has been stalking her for a ridiculous amount of time.” Morgan commented with a shudder, sympathy and guilt from the earlier interrogation eating at him as the black SUV careens around a corner.

When they bust through his door, clearing each room and finding a creepy amount of pictures and papers about you, they realize that he has taken you somewhere else. And who do you call when you’re at a dead end and you need information?

“You’ve reached Penelope Garcia in the FBI’s Office of Supreme Genius.”

___

Breaking a chair that is nailed to the floor is a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds kinda hard.

There was a lot of kicking and hitting and some bruises were definitely starting to form, but the amount of blood coming from your leg was scary. The chances that the knife had nicked your femoral artery were relatively slim, especially given how long you’ve been bleeding, but you couldn’t help but waver on the side of caution.

After several failed attempts of throwing your body into the wood and kicking and hitting and pulling and crying and then repeating the cycle, you managed to pop a leg off. While the base of the leg stayed nailed to the floor, you spent the rest of your time trying to tear the chair from the rest of the legs, when you did you threw the top half against the concrete wall.

Taking two spindles from the back, you quickly scurry back to the mattress and wait for him to return. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to come back down here to taunt you or try something.

In your short time in what Harvey has so lovingly deemed ‘your room,’ you have come to a couple conclusions in an attempt to distract yourself from the excruciating pain in your thigh.

One being that this is not Harvey’s home. Of that you’re one hundred percent certain. Upstairs, you can hear the sound of two sets of feet thudding around. You can only assume this is his childhood home. You remember that his mother had died about a month ago, causing him to resign from his position as your agent’s personal assistant. She had mentioned to you that he planned to help his father as much as he could before he too passed away.

The second being that you were probably going to loose your leg. Any move this way or that sends a thousand knives through every nerve in your body. Your throat is scratchy and sore from how long you’ve been yelling, both in trying to get someone’s attention and in pain.

The light coming from the small window next to the ceiling hasn’t even begun to wane with the falling sun when the door opens again. The chain around your uninjured leg clatters when you pull your knee up to your chest. You don’t even attempt to move the other leg.

Harvey appears in the opening, a tray of food balances in his hands as he shuts the door behind him.

“Find some weapons?” He asks casually, setting the tray beside the lamp as he sinks to his knees on the mattress. Your knuckles are white around each spindle, the inside of your mouth is sensitive to the touch from how much nervous chewing you’ve been doing.

“Get away from me, or I’ll kill you.” You seethe, fighting through the swimming in your head that hasn’t gone away since you woke up here. He gives you a look like you’re a misbehaving child, but it’s soon replaced with anger when you slap him across the face with one of your weapons.

You were hoping the attack would break skin, but all it does is turns the skin over his cheekbone dark red.

Faster than you can blink, he pins both your wrists with one of his hands above your head on the mattress, using the other hand to deftly pluck each spindle from your grip.

“I’ve done so much for you. I’ve given you a room, and a career, and so much more, and yet you attack me.” The wooden spindles hit the wall next to the door, his body lowers to yours in a way you know means more trouble.

“You’re a creep and a perv and I don’t want you to touch me! You’ve done nothing for me. Only for yourself.” In a way that would make any young boy proud to know you, you collect all the spit and bile in your mouth before shooting it into his face. Part of it hits him in the eye, causing him to roar in outrage.

He lets you go, giving you a brief moment of relief, but he only wipes away the loogey before rocking his hand back hard enough to crack against the side of your face. In your moment of disorientation, he flips you to your stomach and undoes the cuff from around your leg. The chain rings against the ground when he tosses it to the side.

His knee went to your back, his hands went to your waist, and the moment you manage to come back to yourself, your fingers clawed at whatever flesh you could find near you. You screamed and flailed as much as you could, the shooting pain of your leg barely noticeable when your body was in panic mode.

All you can think as that this is the kind of thing you read about. People don’t actually get kidnapped and rapped by people they knew in college. But you know that isn’t true either. You are the daughter of a detective, things like this were apart of your everyday life growing up. Just never as personal as you or a friend being the victim. For some reason that makes you fight harder, a sickly feelings creeping into your throat when you felt his fingers brush under the hem of your underwear.

Then a sound pulled you from your hysteria, the door fell to the ground and a swarm of FBI Agents descended upon the concrete basement you still refused to call ‘your room.’ Spencer was the last of them to enter, but the unadulterated fury in his eyes was enough to tell you that was not a decision on his part.

To you, and maybe even everyone else in the room who managed to look at him for longer than a millisecond, he looked like an avenging angel. Every chocolate caramel curl perfectly framed his face, which looked like it was carved out of stone. His jaw was so tense you could slice your finger if your ran it along the edge. The revolver in his hands was unwavering, only growing in steadiness when he caught compromising position you were in.

The sob that came out of your throat was one of relief. Harvey lifted you from the mattress, reaching into his pocket to pull out that damned pocket knife. He held you so close to his chest that it made your skin crawl.

“Harvey Morgensten, drop the weapon.” Morgan’s voice boomed around the room. Harvey held you with one arm tensed around the front of your shoulders and the other holding a knife to your neck.

“She’s mine! You weren’t supposed to be able to find us!” He screamed, you winced away from the shrilling pitch that scraped against the inside of your ear. It caused him to push the knife into the skin over your exposed collarbone, blood beading around the the metal tip. Your heart was hammering beneath your ribs, your hands flexing at your sides, your mind racing for a way to get out of this situation.

Spencer’s lip went up in a snarl, you half expected him to let a growl tear through his chest as if he was a lion standing against an enemy. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention when he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second when he looks down at you.

In that fraction of a second all of his defenses fall and you can see all the grief and panic in the bags under his eyes and the raw skin of his bottom lip.

“She was never yours, Harvey.” Spencer says, wincing when Harvey responds by yanking you even closer than before. His breath is hot on your neck, his lips so close that they brush against the skin on the back of your shoulder when he speaks.

“She was never yours, Dr. Reid. She is mine, she always will be.” You cry out in surprise, your fingers coming up to scratch at the arm around your shoulders when a pair of teeth sink into the crook of your neck as if you were the victim of a vampire or something equally supernatural and territorial.

The action has the desired effect on every agent watching, especially Reid, who stumbles forward before Hotch grabs him by the back of his arm. They don’t have a shot, not without hurting you. That much you can tell just from the look they share. It doesn’t take a genius to look around and see that the end of every gun in the room is pierced right through you.

It makes you angry. You grind the back of your teeth together when a dark chuckles echoes from behind you. In your mind’s eye, you see it all happening the way you see a scene from a book playing before you like a movie.

Reaching up with one hand, you grab the onto the arm holding the knife. With the pad of your thumb, you shove every bit of strength you have into the soft skin at the inside of his wrist. At the same time, you pull your head forward before sending it reeling back onto his already broken nose. This time, you can feel the crunch of bones as your skull makes contact with his face.

Simultaneously, he drops the knife to the floor with a cry and drops his arms to reach for his gushing nose. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you manage the couple of steps forward into Spencer’s arms. In a quick and graceful display of surprising strength, he carries you back into his embrace and spins around to shield you from the monster staggering back toward you.

Prentiss is quick to catch him in his blind pursuit for you, twisting both of his arms back without an ounce of sympathy for his pain. The jingle of handcuffs precede the finality of each click around his wrists.

“Everything I did, I did for you! I made your book come to life, I ruined the reputation of those girls, I did it all for you.” Harvey struggles against the restraints, twisting his body any way that he can to get a glimpse of you curled into Spencer’s chest.

You brain is caught between reality and a distant world, everything around you feels like make believe. Only the feeling of Spencer’s sweater curled into your fingers and his hand on the back of your head feels real. Harvey’s voice is like a recording being played three blocks away, still loud enough to hear but not close enough to focus on. He’s hissing threats and insults at Spencer’s back, that psycho-something in him finally snapping under the circumstances.

Somebody is yelling for a medic and there, just underneath it all, is the sound of someone wailing in such a way that words could never accurately describe the intense pain and grief being carried on every screaming sob. As the events from the last twelve hours come rushing back to you, reality takes the reins of your mind.

It’s you that’s crying like that. That desperate, broken sound is coming from your heaving chest. When your leg finally gives out from under you, the pain too much for your body to bare, he was already there holding you.

The screams fade into small shattered sobs just in time for medics to descend the stairs. Their hands are voices are everywhere, medical jargon flying over your head as they pry your hands from Spencer’s sweater. You pull back from every touch, the thoughts in your brain flying too fast for you to keep up.

It takes them a while to get you to the ambulance, but when they do you start to panic.

“Spencer?!” You cry out, unable to move your head too much due to the neck brace and head strap holding you down. It takes only a second for him to come into view, his eyes glassy and his smile watery. His hand slips into yours before they raise you up to the ambulance, your hand is icy to the touch.

The paramedics had mentioned a possible concussion, excessive blood loss, and signs of acute compartment syndrome. The fact that you had remained conscious and walking this long was a testament to your strong will and fighting spirit.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered, the black around the edges of your vision creeping in despite how hard you fought it. Spencer almost winced from how hard you tightened the grip on his fingers. His mouth moved, but you never heard the response, your mind fading quickly with every second.

“Don’t leave.”

The sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping was what woke you up. Groaning from all the aches and pains that surged up with consciousness, your eyes fluttered open before squinting into the bright hospital lights.

Your mother was the first thing that popped into your field of vision. The last time she had looked at you with such worry, you’d been in the ER after flipping your car into a ditch. In your defense, it was dark and, as a young driver, you over corrected when you hit a patch of standing water.

“Mama?” You pushed up on the bed, the pillow behind your head falling to the space between your lower back and the mattress. Your mom was quick to pick it up and fluff it back behind your head. She must really be concerned. Had they found cancer while you were out or something?

“Oh my goodness, (Y/N), you had me so worried.” Gingerly, you pressed the heel of your hand to the bandage that stuck to your hair and the corner of your head. Brushing the butterfly stitches that went across the cut on your cheek, you barely had time to react before she pulled you into a breath-stealing hug.

The wound on your neck smarted with the movement and you hissed in pain. Your mom pulled back, squishing your cheeks between her hands as tears began to collect on her lower lash line. Your mother was not the type to cry, about really anything, as far as you knew of. So to see her tearing up like this only added to the confusion and shock you were already feeling.

“Never join law enforcement. I thought I wanted you to, but I can’t deal with this kidnapping and near-death nonsense. I’m getting too old for it.” She teased tenderly, releasing your face from the death grip of love to wipe away the tears before they fell down her cheeks.

“When did you get here?” You asked, taking note of all the wires and tubes that connected to your body via IVs and sticky pads. A glance down at your leg eased the fear that you might have sustained a leg wound that would take your leg from you. You didn’t move it for fear of the pain you could already feel throbbing to the beat of your heart.

The bed dipped under your mother’s weight as she sat beside you, gathering one of your hands into both of hers. Scars littered the knuckles that had wiped away your tears and taught you to throw punches.

“I only got here about an hour ago, but you’ve had round the clock protection from the FBI so no need to get panicky. I can see that look creeping into your eyes.” Her own eyes squint a little, those highly observant detective skills kicking in. She’s always been able to read you like an open book, making you wonder if she would have been good at profiling.

Of course she would have, your mother was good at everything she set her mind to.

“FBI?” You’re full of so many questions, but they all fall away when you mom shifts out of your line of sight to reveal the sleeping agent tucked away into the corner of the room.

Spencer is curled onto a hospital chair that is placed into a corner beside the window looking out over the parking lot. His back is leaned against the wall, one shoulder leaned against the back of the chair. One long leg is curled into the seat and the other is stretched out next to the chair. From across the room, you can see the shadows his eyelashes cast across his cheekbones in slumber. Oddly enough, your first thought is of Sleeping Beauty.

The sight is enough to make your heart feel like it’s squeezing around a ball of broken glass. Before your mother can read too much into the mixture of emotions that, surely, skew your features, you look away.

“He’s been here since they brought you in. I met his team, they’re a fine group of agents. You didn’t tell me you were friends with anyone in the FBI.” Before she can say anything else, you clear your throat. Putting one hand, a little dramatically, to your chest you give your mother a look you haven’t used since you were a kid trying to stay home from school.

“Mama, I’m a little hungry. Can you get me something to eat?” It works like a charm. You’ve never seen your mother jump so quickly before, she races out the door like a woman on a mission. It warms your aching heart.

“Maybe you should have tried acting.” Spencer’s voice is groggy with sleep as he sits up and stretches into awareness.

“How long have you been awake?” He meets your gaze, his expression soft and earth-shaking. When you imagined seeing Spencer wake up first thing in the morning, it was never in a hospital room while feelings of betrayal and confusion stabbed into your chest.

“Just long enough to hear your mom talk about my team. She’s a nice lady.” He doesn’t move from the chair, sensing the tension in the room the way only a profiler can. He’s afraid that if he gets up, you’ll make him leave. He doesn’t need to know that he’s right.

“How long have I been out?” You’re asking every question except the one you’ve been dying to ask.

“A day. You had a pretty bad concussion and acute compartment syndrome in your leg. They weren’t sure you were going to be able to retain control of the muscle given how long you were kept hostage with it untreated, but I know you’re too stubborn to let that happen.” The silence that follows is stifling, your eyes interlocked in a battle of wills.

Was this the same man that had accused you of being a serial killer?

You’re the first to look away, fidgeting with a fray string from the blanket thrown over your legs.

“I think we need some time apart.”

“I’m so incredibly sorry.” You both speak at the same time, but your words drain the blood from Spencer’s face when they finally register. He had hoped that, by some miracle, you would forgive him of the unforgivable sin he had committed against you in the name of justice. He understood why you didn’t.

“I just,” The threads of the blanket you recognize from your childhood bedroom bump underneath your fingers when you smooth your hand over it, “I want to forgive you. But all I keep thinking is that none of this would have happened to me if you had used all those brains in your head instead of all the insecurities in you heart.”

It’s like a slap across the face, and yet Spencer can’t help but feel like he deserves it. Even still, none of it hurts as much as the crack in your voice and the tears that you try so desperately to blink away before he can see them.

It isn’t often that Spencer Reid is rendered speechless, but the guilt and heartache have stolen all the words of every language and all the breath from the air right out of his mouth.

“It’s still so fresh in my mind, I think if we distance ourselves then we’ll be able to come back to something rather than trying to scramble to bridge together the chasm that has formed between us.”

He wants to argue, everything in him screams that he needs to fight for you, but the look in your eyes stops him. If you need space, then space is what he will give you. Spencer would do anything to make this right. He wishes he had the intelligence and technology to build a time machine and go back to two mornings ago.

“I understand,” he says solemnly, trying to talk around the hurt in his chest that is growing like a tumor. “But I promised I wouldn’t leave you. I’ll give you space, but I’m only giving you the space of the wall between this room and the hallway.”

And then he’s gone, staying true to his word and sinking to the floor outside your room. When you mother comes back, holding a collection of jellos and cookies and granola bars from the hospital cafeteria, her steps falter at the sight of the young doctor outside your door.

Inside you’re curled into yourself, taking very deliberate breaths into the cotton stuffed pillow you have buried into your chest. You half expect your heart monitor to be screaming for the nurses, but despite a small quickening in the constant beeps, it gives away none of your heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” You look up, meeting your mothers eyes with tear stained cheeks. Your head is going to be throbbing later, but for now you’re only focused on the sharp pains shooting through your ribs and clouding every other pain in your body.

Between one gasp of air and the next, your mother drops all the foods to the chair vacated by Spencer before rushing to pull you into her arms.

“Can you die from a broken heart?” You whimper, feeling like a small child as you bury your head into her chest. She smells like home, running her hand over the back of your head with gentle shushing sounds.

Outside, Spencer wipes at his own tears, a silent statue of sadness protecting you from everything but himself.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

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joontier · 4 years

Text

Ramen Rivals

synopsis: Rivals in the kitchen, rivals even with ramen - two rivaling restaurateurs fight over the only cup of instant noodles left in the convenience store

pairings: kim seokjin x reader (oneshot)

rating: R | genre: classic e2l trope; gourmet chef! seokjin and reader ; smut; humor; fluff ; crack | warnings: swearing, explicit sex, kitchen sex, implied bathroom sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 12k RIP MY BRAIN

a/n: Ahhhh, his is actually a re-written version of one i posted way way back 2018 LOOOL idk what to feel anymore after this akfaowiejfoawe the last parts are actually heavily unedited ACK

navi.

Kim Seokjin.

That’s it. That’s the name. That’s the tweet.

You never knew three syllables could affect you this much, could bring you this great distress. The mere mention of it makes you reel, roll your eyes, ball up your fists, makes the tiny hairs on your nape stand on end.

Long story short, Kim Seokjin makes your blood boil.

It doesn’t help either that he was Adonis himself – complete with cat eyes, plump lips, and a dashing smile, or that he has rock-hard abs hiding underneath that white double-breasted jacket, or that he busts out corny ass dad jokes as much as he winks at people (which is a LOT of times, by the way), or that he’s an undeniably an exceptional chef (such as yourself, duh) and has now erected a gourmet restaurant next door to rival yours, OR the completely obvious fact that you two have history.

The short period of time in the past that you shared with him wasn’t exactly one you would be embarrassed of, or something you want to forget. Instead, it’s the exact opposite. You’re ashamed of the fact that you hadn’t gotten over it until now, three years later. He was your OGF – Mr. One Great Fuck. Kim Seokjin still holds the belt for the title of making you cum six consecutive times in a single night. How he managed to do that and how nobody else has measured up to that, you’ll never know.

You’d initially met him at Les Coulisses Du Chef in Paris, where you had enrolled yourself in a patisserie class to expand your knowledge on French pastry and hopefully get a certificate for it. You’d been meaning to take the class since forever, yet you’d been waitlisted year after year until last year when one of the applicants had backed out, they’d called you in, merely half a month before the program started.

Three weeks into the semester, Seokjin had introduced himself to you, or rather, had told you a dad joke as an introductory preview of his personality. You’re glad he did though, else you would have been surprised if you discovered the kid was part Greek god, part chef, part dad jokes, and .01% brain cell.

“What do you call a fake noodle?” asks .01% brain-cell-man seated beside you, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the prominent veins on his forearms. You’re momentarily distracted by the action, completely missing out the question he’d just asked you. “Sorry, what?”

“What do you call a fake noodle?” Gosh, you shouldn’t have asked him again. If only he knew the number of times you’d hear- “Impasta!” He snorts, holding a fettuccine noodle in one hand and the other clutching onto his tummy as he doubles in his laughter.

You’re just standing beside him, slack-jawed, unsure if this was just a sick dare. Who was this guy? Was he even in the same class as you? Was he high? Perhaps he mistook flour for coke? His laughter dies down when he sees your face, sans-reaction.

“Wait, you understand English right? Um… comprendre English? Oui?”

“Yes, I can understand English.”

“Then why didn’t you laugh?” You raise a brow. This stranger just comes up to you, tells you a lame joke, and now he expects you to laugh?

“This is gonna sound real mean, but it was really an old joke...and a lame one at that,” you retort, your face crumpled into one of faux pity.

“Hey! No need to make it personal!” he counters, placing a hand over his heart, face contorting into a grimace. “You, Rafa!” He half-shouts, pointing an accusatory finger to someone behind you. “You said it would be a great ice-breaker!” Your eyes follow the Rafa he’s pointing at, the latter quickly shakes his head, telling you he doesn’t know the man in French.

“Is this man bothering you?” Rafa nods sadly.

“What?! How dare you turn the tables on me?? I’m your only friend!” You turn to glare at pasta guy, who continues to wail behind you. Rafa snorts from across at the sight of pasta guy making a fool of himself behind you and eventually takes pity on him.

“I’m sorry, Jin’s just been meaning to talk to your since the start of semester, so he’s asked me for advice on how to approach you...I told him to tell you a good ‘ole joke in the kitchen since we’re all chefs here...I didn’t actually think he’d take it...seriously.”

“Wow! Betraying and exposing me all at once!! Why won’t you just fry me alive in olive oil, huh? That would be less painful.” Jin-pasta complains, arms gesticulating wildly in the air. You watch them unabashedly bicker in front of you concurrently amused at the whole spectacle.

The three of you become close friends soon thereafter, Jin claiming your trio as the ‘Kitchen Musketeers’. Yes, he managed to convince the entire class to call your tiny group of friends that name. And yes, that wasn’t the worst idea Seokjin had in mind when he was considering a name for your trio. You didn't even want to start to reminisce about the rest of Seokjin’s bizarre suggestions: Charlie’s Cooks (to his defense, you did have a substitute mentor named Charlie), Gourmetbusters, Pecanpuff Girls, The Three Sausagees (more like two sausages and one bun). You’ve always cringed at the last one.

Despite your trio’s antics, Rafa considers himself the third wheel more than anything. Rafael was not oblivious to the crush on Seokjin that you’ve been harboring for months.

It was the day of your graduation from the short course you’d taken - the three of you decided to have a celebratory wine party at Seokjin’s rented apartment. That same night was when you found yourself drunk on pinot noir and Seokjin’s lips. The rest was history.

Finding the bed and the rest of his apartment empty the next morning, you took your leave and fared your walk of shame along the streets of Paris with teary eyes and a bruised heart.

Your Mr. OGF also turned out to be Mr. One God-Tier Fucker. Or perhaps the title also belonged to you, Ms. One Gigantic Fool, who thought that maybe she could have been more than a one-night-stand between two colleagues whose relationship could never be more than a professional one.

Colleagues. The apparent ‘label’ lets out a boisterous laugh at your face. Gosh, you’re a pathetic fucking fool.

Thankfully, your flight back to Korea was scheduled that day as well,, so you wouldn’t have to see Seokjin’s pretty face any longer or rather - what you wouldn’t admit even to yourself - you wouldn’t be able to confront the face of the truth you wanted to hide deep beneath the recesses of your heart.

At least, that’s what you thought.

One and a half years after you got your certificate in Paris, you had finally saved enough money to start your business - a gourmet restaurant situated in the heart of Gangnam. You already had patrons from the restaurant where you previously worked, and the opening of Canapé had garnered more customers than you initially expected.

Business had been thriving for a year, that is, until someone decided to erect a new gourmet restaurant just beside yours. Having a rivalling establishment wasn’t new news to you, neither did it truly bother you as to no longer having the monopoly in gourmet restaurants located in this part of Gangnam.

A week after the opening of your neighbor’s Ambrosia - you decided to bring over a friendly bottle of wine you had shipped straight from France with the hopes that you can become acquainted with your fellow restaurateur.

As you move along the crosswalk and reach Ambrosia’s podium outside intended for the maitre d’, you shift your weight between your legs, an unconscious habit that only Seokjin took notice of. Ridding your thoughts of the man who shall no longer be named, you let your mind wander off to your own worker’s description of the alleged owner.

Out of all your staff’s depiction of Ambrosia’s owner, it’s your sommelier’s and manager’s descriptions that have struck you the most.

Yoongi, your timid sommelier, tells you that the owner was a stout man in his mid-forties with Caucasian features, while your manager, Jinhee said he was a man around your age with a face and built that could easily pass for a K-Pop idol.

You were leaning towards Yoongi’s description because Jinhee would have most likely mistaken a real idol for the owner since there were plenty of celebrities who hung out in Gangnam and would meet up in restaurants like yours. Either way, celebrity look-a-like or not, you were determined to meet your neighbor.

“There’s someone outside, Hobi,” a busser informs the maitre d as he wipes the last table for the day. Three pairs of eyes look at you through the glass.

You continuously peer from the outside as you can’t see much from due to the darkness inside, where only a few dim lights are on. “Go on then, Hobi,” the owner states, nudging the maitre d towards the door.

Hoseok takes a glimpse of you through the glass panel and faces the owner. “Hyung, she seems pretty. Why don’t you do it? You ought to have a proper girlfriend right now. It’s about time you move on from your love interest in Paris! Plus you’re the owner of the restaurant!”

“Hobi, I still have to do kitchen check, remember? And for the record, I have moved on from her. Chop chop.” Hobi gives him an incredulous look, highly doubting his boss had already forgotten about her. “Right away, Mr. Seokdon Ramsay.”

You’re drawn from your thoughts when you hear the melodic sound of the bell as the door opens and a man with a bright smile comes out. “Hello! My name’s Hobi, can I help you with anything?”

“Um..hi! I’m from Canapé just across the street… are you, perhaps, the owner of Ambrosia?”

“Oh! I’m not the owner…I wish I was though if I had someone pretty like you looking for me…” You laugh awkwardly in response, unsure of what you should reply to such a line. The two of you remain standing there, staring at each other. “Um...is the owner there then? It would be nice if I can speak to him or her or them…” you let out a small cough, looking away.

“Right! Of course, sorry about that! I’ll tell him to come out.” Hobi scurries back inside and soon you hear incoherent yelling and laughter from inside the restaurant.

“Hyungnim! Hyung!!” Hobi calls out once more, eyes searching wildly for Seokjin. “What now?” Seokjin emerges from the kitchen with the busser in tow. “Hyung! She’s fucking hot! And I feel like I’ve known her from somewhere…plus she says she’s from our neighboring restaurant! I told you, you were the one who should’ve gone out there. By the way, I think she’s calling wine o’clock too – and the bottle she’s holding looks like expensive French Cabernet Sauvignon!”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at his maitre d, “You seem to have been spending a lot of time with that sommelier from across the street.” The owner of Ambrosia shakes his head at his friend, who pushes him towards the door. “Hurry! You wouldn’t want to keep a pretty girl waiting!”

You’ve been waiting patiently outside, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you watch people come and go. The streets of Gangnam was always lively, and it still surprises you at this point that you had decided to put up a restaurant in the midst of the hustle and bustle of a city like such because you’ve always wanted to erect one by the countryside with the whole organic theme going on. Nonetheless, you were happy with your decision of establishing one in Gangnam.

The bell dings again, and as you turn on your heel to check the much-anticipated owner of Canapé, you nearly drop the pricey bottle of red wine in your hands. It’s Mr. man-who-shall-no-longer-be-named. You’re stood there shell-shocked, mouth agape at the man in front of you.

He hasn’t changed one bit, well, except for the more handsome features. He’s changed his hairstyle too, now opting for an exposed forehead instead of those bangs he’d impulsively cut by his own in the middle of the night. His shoulders remain the same, miraculously; just an inch wider and he could’ve been a great replacement for a meter stick at Encore, the clothing store that offered bespoke clothing just down the road.

“_________?”

Seokjin starts to speak, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to do the same. There’s too much you wanted to say, ask , and rant about that your mouth remains hanging open awkwardly – almost as if you’re squawking. You bow in embarrassment, apologizing for your behavior and run back to your restaurant.

The Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia was holding its annual even today at The Andaz Seoul and you just had this gut feeling Seokjin was going to be there. With yesterday’s discovery that your neighboring, rivaling, restaurant was owned by none other than Kim Seokjin himself, you already had an inkling he was invited to GCAEA’s event tonight.

Your suspicions had been confirmed as one of the event’s producers sent you an email earlier this morning, that which contains the list of nominees for the title of GCAEA’s Chef of the Year – the same title that was bestowed upon you just last year. Seokjin was the first nominee for this year’s awarding ceremony.

Kudos to him. Despite knowing that your hatred for him was fueled by more personal reasons, you knew deep down inside the recesses of your brain that he was a really, really talented chef. Probably just as good as you – of course, you can easily admit that you’re still lacking in plenty but you don’t think your pride will allow you to accept defeat from Seokjin just like that after all he’d done.

You only had the chance to look at Seokjin for a good seven seconds yesterday, but it had taken you at least seven hours, a tub of ice cream, and a Captain America movie marathon to reassure yourself that having seen him so close yesterday wasn’t just an actual nightmare.

As much as you hated to admit it, he remained just as handsome as he was three years ago. What you couldn’t get over with though, was how he actually smiled at you yesterday. That little fucker had to audacity to show his perfect little pearly whites at you! All over again, you’re reminded of how he left you in his room the morning after, or how much of a fucking fool you were for having believed that the two of you could’ve been something more than friends.

Rearranging your dress for the nth time today, you take another look at the mirror, twisting and turning to see if there might be some thread hanging off the hems of the dress. You’re starting to question your decided outfit for the night. You had a dress done just for this event – or more specifically, what sort of dress Jinhee had ordered to be sewn just for this event.

It hugged your curves perfectly – the dress a perfect merger between modest and seductive. It had a nude-illusion base with silver sequins sewn onto the thin fabric and a low-cut neckline that gives everyone a lovely view of your cleavage.

This one could easily pass as an evening gown for a Miss Universe candidate. You felt confident, beautiful, and sexy but at the same time you felt like you wanted to just huddle yourself up in your duvet in the corner of your room and eat ice cream. You weren’t uncomfortable with showing skin from time to time, but having been clad in a double-breasted jacket on a daily means it felt strange having your neckline displayed in public.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. Yoongi had offered to be your chauffeur for this evening, of course, after being coerced and bribed by Jinhee into doing it.

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:43pm

hurry up, or i’ll leave you behind

[you] 6:43pm

yoongs

It’s MY car WE’RE using

you don’t even have my keys yet

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:45pm

u get the idea, woman

dont keep me waiting

“Well maybe if you won’t stop texting, I’ll be quicker,” you grumble to your phone, placing it inside your purse so Yoongi won’t bother you any longer. Doing one last twirl in the mirror, you grab your necessities you’ve gathered on your bedside table and sweep them into your purse.

“You clean up nicely, boss.”

Squinting your eyes at Yoongi with his words, you send him a grateful smile nonetheless. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” This was the closes thing to an actual compliment that you were ever going to receive from Yoongi in your entire lifetime, so you were sure to keep his words close to your heart.

Taking your car keys from your purse, you toss them to Yoongi who catches them deftly with one hand. “Ooh, you looked cool when you did that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You gave me a compliment, so I’m going to give you one in return. As a token of gratitude.”

“Remind me never to say anything to you ever again.”

“Hey! You talk back like that to the woman who’s giving you money for your daily needs?! And you won’t even open the door for me?” you ask your past neighbor-turned-sommelier-turned-close-friend. “It’s called a salary, Ms. _______. And I receive that as compensation because I give you my services in exchange for it. Plus, I’m already seated here,” Yoongi shrugs, adjusting the rear view mirror.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the door to your backseat, exerting much effort in swinging one leg after the other with your incredibly tight evening gown. And, of course making sure the short train won’t get caught between the car doors.

Yoongi checks if you’re all good through the rear-view mirror and once he sees you buckle up, he lets the engine roar to life. You take out your phone from your purse to see if you’ve received any other emails, only for the phone to get flung from your hands – including you.

The car surges forward all of a sudden and Yoongi steps on the breaks just in time. You hear Yoongi curse under his breath, looking over his shoulder to check if you’re okay. “Shit! I forgot you drove a Maserati!”

“I think the more appropriate thing to do is to ask me if I’m still okay…Also, it doesn’t matter what kind of car I drive, because I think you forgot how to actually drive at all.” You complain, adjusting the seatbelt across your chest, the sudden jolt leaving a diagonal red mark just by your collarbone.

“Well, you aren’t dead, so technically speaking, you’re okay.” Unbelievable. You let out a loud scoff, unable to think of anything wittier to say. “Just please get me there in one piece, Yoongs.”

You manage to get to the hotel in one piece. Thank heavens.

The small talk you made with Yoongi on your way to the hotel had temporarily taken your mind off the jitters but now that he’s left you standing by the entrance of the hotel, the nerves had definitely returned, tenfold. You’re also unfortunately dropped off at a spot where a standee of yours holding the Gourmet Chef of the Year award is staring back at you. God, you hated that photo. They did not give your eyebrows justice, at all.

You exhale all your nervousness away as you take the steps to the lobby. “_______!” Someone calls out, the voice too familiar to miss out on. “Sunbae!” You turn around to see one of the most revered chefs in Korea, and definitely one of your favorite mentors, Choi Jiyoung. The woman nearing her fifties extends her arms out in greeting and you give her a tight hug. You had worked under her supervision in the past, and she had taught you almost everything you knew about Korean cuisine.

“Ah, it’s been too long darling! Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman!” Misun praises as her grip on you tightens and pulls you by the elbow, “Surely, there’s a lucky man that has swept my sweet _______ by now!” Your senior adds, punctuating her sentence with a wink at the end.

“I’ve been pretty busy these days… and dating hasn’t really crossed my mind recently.”

‘That’s because the last man I’ve wanted to date was three years ago and he’d just considered me a one-night stand and now after I’ve struggled to burn his existence from my memory and to be very frank with you, I really haven’t gotten over him and now he just so happens to be the owner of the restaurant beside mine. Also, he’s stealing my customers.’ Comes your real answer inside your head, but you’ll never tell anyone that.

Jiyoung pouts at your answer, but taps your forearm, “We’ll talk more about that inside. Come on darling, the event is starting.”

Seokjin sees you finally enter the lobby, eyes scanning the few people scattered around the area as you look for a familiar face you could approach. All eyes are on you, yet you don’t notice, like always. You don’t realize how beautiful you are, blushing furiously under the simplest compliments. You’ve got this certain charm that certainly draws people towards you, all the more when they get to know you better, just like what you did to him.

Seokjin remembers the first time he’d actually seen you – on the television. He’d been scrolling aimlessly through the channels, trying to look for something to watch as he waits for the water to boil for his ramen. He’d accidentally stopped by Channel K99’s ‘Choi Jiyoung Kitchen Specials’ reruns during midnight when he checked his phone after it dinged, alerting him of a notification on his email: just another alert to renew his ‘KOREA’ magazine subscription, where he’d secretly get new recipes, try them out, add a little twist, and serve them to his customers at his parent’s restaurant.

As he was about to press the off button on the remote, you enter the frame as the camera pans out when Choi Jiyoung introduces you as her new assistant and protégé. For some reason, this show just got all the more interesting for Seokjin, who’s clearly drawn to you and not the scrumptious seafood platter that Chef Choi was preparing.

He’d followed you on all his social media accounts after that night, even going as far as turning on his notifications for each post you made. He was unsure what had drawn him to you in the first place – whether it be the fact that you were probably the first female chef he’d seen in Korea that was just about his age (that or he really just didn’t pay any attention to women in the same field during the early years of his career), or that you were unbelievably skilled at such a young age with apparently, a lot of culinary awards and certificates under your belt.

Funny enough, Seokjin wasn’t really one to delve into the world of pastry but judging from your most recent Instagram posts during those days, you had taken interest in patisserie, which only caused Seokjin to attempt baking his own first croissant. He finally understood your enthusiastic devotion for it ever since. Then came Les Coulisses Du Chef, where Rafa, an exchange-student-turned-friend of his from his culinary school days had secured him a slot for a semester at the prestigious school of gastronomy in Paris to get a certificate on French pastry.

He wasn’t expecting you though, out of all people, to join the official list of the class as well, last minute.

It took him three weeks before he finally spoke to you, much to Rafa’s exasperation. Seokjin would keep nagging the French man, telling him how much he wanted to talk to you, yet he can’t seem to grow some balls to do so. In annoyance, he’d told Seokjin that the best way to break the ice was to tell a joke – this time, much to Seokjin’s chagrin. He’d never thought secondhand embarrassment was a thing until Seokjin actually heeded his advice and told you about the ‘impasta’. Surprisingly enough, it worked, so voila!

If only you knew how nervous Seokjin was during that time, clammy hands and all. In fact – if only you knew how jittery Seokjin was whenever he was near you. He’s pretty sure he’d ruined his credibility and career after busting out that lame ass joke Rafa had told him, but it turned out to be the only way he actually got closer to you so he was partly grateful for Rafa’s advice – reputation be damned.

Just like tonight, the moment his eyes fall on you, he feels like he’s being drawn back to his room, eyes trained on you as you diligently followed each of Chef’s Choi’s directions, or that time he’d first spoke to you back in your French patisserie class. He diverts his gaze elsewhere from the fear that you might catch him staring.

“Hey, man. Isn’t that ________? The girl you’ve been crushing on since forever?” Minjae asks, elbowing Seokjin at the waist. The latter grimaces slightly in pain, before reluctantly letting his gaze settle on you once more.

Jungkook returns from the bathroom, joining the duo by the reception. “Wow, who’s that?” the younger man asks, nodding towards your direction. With Jungkook being a fairly new member of the association, curiosity is getting the best of him with all the faces he’s seeing.

Similar to a little kid at a toy shop, he’s constantly asking his hyungs if the people he was seeing were the actual people he’d seen on the internet or on the television. Minjae, who indulges every question of the maknae of their small circle of friends with great enthusiasm, answers Jungkook. “That’s _______, Kook.”

“No way! That’s her?! As in the _________?” The only female chef in Korea who received her first Michelin star in her twenties?! As in ________ Choi Jiyoung’s protégé?!”

“Yes, Kook, that’s her alright. And also the same ________ who will hear you soon enough and will find you weird if you don’t keep your voice down.”

“She’s also the same recipient of the award your Seokjin hyung is nominated for this year,” Jiwon adds, wriggling his eyebrows at Seokjin.

“That’s so cool!” Jungkook exclaims as their whole group watches you approach the infamous Choi Jiyoung. “Hyung, do you think she’s single?” Jungkook asks to nobody in particular, considering they were all his hyungs. Minjae and Jiwon glance at Seokjin who returns their glances with a light glare.

“Why don’t you go find out after the party then?” Seokjin suggests, ignoring that certain pang of jealousy that blossoms in his chest at his own proposal.

“Tell me you’re kidding, hyung.”

“Huh?”

“Come on! That’s your girl! You’re going to let go of her just like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kook.”

“Hyung. I may be the maknae, but I am neither blind nor dumb. Anyone with two eyes and a functioning brain will know you have the hots for her.” Minjae and Jiwon snicker at the younger one’s comment. Seokjin, albeit being second to the youngest, gives them a glare the makes them cower behind Jungkook.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Well no. But every time we go out, the only notifications that pop up in your screen are her posts on Instagram. Don’t you think that’s a tad bit…pathetic, hyung?”

Ooh and aahs come from the two other men, who are reveling at the harsh bluntness of Jungkook’s words. It’s the maknae who receives Seokjin’s side-eye next. “Need I remind you who’s the older one here?”

“The point exactly! We’re not getting any younger, hyung. Better ask her out now…before I beat you to it.” Seokjin’s mouth falls open in astonishment, while Jungkook just smiles at him in return. “Come on hyung, they’re calling us inside.”

“Well, well, would you look at that stunner over there?” She comments, nodding her head towards someone over your shoulder. There he was, the infamous Kim Seokjin, clad in an all-black ensemble, a single silver chain necklace hanging on his neck. His hair is swept to the side, revealing a bit of his forehead.

“Oh boy.” Jung Chungae fans herself as your greatest rival turns sideways, showing off his side-profile while animatedly telling a story to a fellow colleague seated with them. “Oh how I wish we could just go back to our golden years for just one night!” The rest of the table laughs at Chungae’s comment.

“I personally think you and that man would make a great couple.” Jiyoung says, leaning towards you.

“The other man sat on his right doesn’t seem to think that way though,” Chungae says, picking on her dessert, whispering ‘cute guy from same table’ discreetly. As if on cue, the rest of the ladies, you included, turn your heads towards Seokjin’s table. True to sunbae Chungae’s implications, there was another man beside Seokjin who was staring back at you. You believe Jungkook was his name… nevertheless, you get shy under his stare, averting your eyes back to the presently attractive flower arrangement at the center of your table.

The servers pile inside in pairs, approaching each table to take your dessert plates. You see the host rise from his chair and take the stairs to the stage. He taps the microphone, checking if the audio was working, “To announce this year’s Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award, may I call on Ms. _________.”

Minjae nudges Seokjin as you stand up from your seat. “Hyung, quit it before other people see you.”

“Come on now, get your ass up and walk her to the stage!”

“She can perfectly walk on her own though?”

“Come on, it’s plus points both for her and the crowd! Give these oldies a show, idiot.”

“N-“

“Hyung, if you won’t do it, I will.” Jungkook says from across the table, eyeing you as you excuse yourself from the other ladies in your table.

Seokjin stares at Jungkook and purses his lips. He discards of the napkin on his lap at once, lightly throwing the piece of cloth on the table. As he stands up, few murmurs of curiosity follow him as he approaches you.

“Ms. ________, may I?” You’re surprised when somebody suddenly appears on your side, offering his arm out for you to hold onto. You hear sunbae Jiyoung quietly cheer you on, nodding her head once to accept Seokjin’s display of manners. The rest of the audience likewise cheers the young man on with a few men whooping and a number of ladies cooing at the sight. Frankly, it wasn’t even that long of a walk until the stage but a part of you was grateful, knowing for yourself that you truly weren’t used to wearing long dresses like these.

As you both reach the stage, with your hand hooked around Seokjin’s elbow, he places another hand atop yours for extra support. The action seems to have the opposite effect. Suddenly all too aware of the proximity between you two, a shiver runs through your spine, secretly hoping the gulp that you make at the sensation goes unnoticed. At the end of the stairs, you give him a curt bow and say your thanks, unable to look him in the eye.

The emcee hands you the microphone and an envelope, containing the name of the awardee. You tap the mic once, then twice. “This is on, right?” The audience laughs in response. “Woops, sorry,” you apologize meekly before starting your half-impromptu, half-practiced speech.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank, first and foremost, the board of judges who have bestowed upon me this same award this time last year, and now I have had the greatest honor to announce the awardee later on. I would also like to send my gratitude to all those who have been my mentors here in Korea and overseas – for I have taken your pieces of advice to my heart and they have guided me wonderfully throughout these years, especially sunbae Choi Jiyoung, who has molded me into the woman and chef that I am today. Also, here’s a special mention to Chef Lee for having prepared this wonderful course for us this lovely evening – I absolutely admire how he manages to make Korean staples like Kimchi Jjigae and Pajeon so…flavorful like it’s been made with his entire heart and soul poured into each detail. Wow. Could we have a round of applause for Chef Lee tonight?”

The audience complies quickly with your request while Chef Lee gives you a bow of gratitude by the doors of the event hall.

“Lastly, I would also like to acknowledge the presence of a beloved mentor of mine, back when I took patisserie classes back in Paris – Mr. Frank Boucher, who had, by the way, also prepared his signature Apple Tarte Tatin for our dessert tonight. So without further ado, the Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award goes to, drumroll please!” Your tongue feels like it got stuck in your throat, but you pull yourself back to reality quick enough so no one else notices.

“Kim Seokjin! Congratulations!”

Seokjin had just barely gotten back to his seat when he hears his name being called. He stands up, beautiful facial features twisted into one of confusion. “You won Chef of the Year bro! Congrats!” Minjae pats Seokjin’s butt briefly before pushing him back towards the stage.

As you hand him the trophy, you give each other a small smile, likewise posing for the cameras. The photographer gestures for you to scoot closer to each other with his hands. It’s getting harder to fake your smile. You wanted nothing more but to go home. Or maybe you could pass by Canapé and take a bottle of wine home for yourself

Thankfully, the awarding the Chef of the Year signals the nearing conclusion of the event, and as soon as you get back to your seat, you send a text to Yoongi, telling him that the event will be over in a couple more minutes.

The event ends quicker than expected, and you find yourself bidding goodbye to everyone else as soon as the emcee officially ends the ceremony. You badly wanted to go home and rest, with only a few hours left for sleep before another work day starts.

You see Yoongi pull up by the entrance after a few more minutes. “How was the party?” You tell him what happened during the event, completely leaving out Seokjin’s appearance and antics. “Let’s just drop you off by your apartment first then I’ll go drive back to the restaurant to grab something.”

“I can go with?”

“It’s fine Yoongs. Besides, we have work in a few hours. You already sleep during work, what more if I keep you awake for an extra couple of minutes tonight?”

Yoongi just shakes his head at you, saying nothing else in reply. He finds you uncharacteristically quiet after a big event like this and wants to ask you about it, but you seem too lost in your thoughts that he doesn’t want to bother you any further. You arrive at his place shortly and as you get down from the car to switch places, you give him a hug and thank him for being your chauffeur. “Oh, and _______? Your French Cabernet Sauvignon is at the third row from the top. And drink at home, please. See you tomorrow.”

Passing through the main entrance of your restaurant, you turn on a few lights by the wine rack to aid your search for the alcoholic beverage. You make a beeline for the wooden structure attached to the wall. Third row from the top… reaching out, you grab on a bottle, reading out its name, ‘Chateau Pichon Longueville 2015 Pauillac’. This will most likely do the trick.

All of a sudden, a knock comes from your door, startling you out of your wits. Quickly, you scurry to the kitchen, looking for something that can protect you in case this person means harm. Your extensive collection of knives is what comes into your mind first, but you wouldn’t want them to be considered murder weapons, in case the worst scenario comes into play.

So you settle for the rolling pin, clutching the cylindrical utensil tightly in your hands. “Who’s there?” you call out, hoping the fear wont seep through your words. “Um, it’s Frank. Frank Boucher. Is that you inside, _______?”

Letting your hands fall to the side, you cautiously near the door, still clutching the rolling pin in your hands. You can’t be too sure nowadays. You sneak a glace through the glass panels to confirm his identity. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see it really was your mentor back in Paris, you set aside the rolling pin and unlock the door.

“_________!”

“Ah, and to what do I owe this pleasure, Chef Boucher?”

“I wanted to talk to you back at the event, but I’m guessing you left early…”

“Um, yes…still a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“Can I get you anything, perhaps? I- I grabbed a bottle of wine just now… would you like some? Or water maybe?”

“Wine is always a great choice, _______. Also I’m here to tell you something important, but I’ll let you grab two glasses first, for our usage.”

“Of course! Please feel free to sit anywhere you like.”

“Quaint restaurant you have here, ______. This is the same Canapé you told me in your email right?”

“Yep! Would you mind a few crackers and goat’s cheese to go with the wine?”

“That sounds perfect, though you really don’t have to bother yourself with all of that…” You shrug off his comment, reassuring him that it was the least you could do after having taught you so much when you were back in Paris.

You finally get everything ready, one hand holding a plate full of crackers and cheese, while the other holds two wine glasses. As soon as you get seated, Frank takes upon him the honor of opening the bottle, pouring a sufficient amount of the beverage onto your glasses. “I meant to give this to you personally earlier, but I could no longer find you after the party ended.” He hands you a white envelope with your name and Canapé’s address printed at the back.

“You’ve been invited to the Asian Gourmet Conference in the Philippines next week.” You choke on the wine you’re drinking, embarrassingly turning into a coughing mess in front of your mentor. He looks at you expectantly as you open the envelope.

“Wait. This is real?! No way!” Frank laughs at your reaction, excitement evident in your voice as you skim over the words indicated on the paper. “Oh my goodness! This is such a great event! And the opportunities! Please bring the wine home, Chef Boucher! It’s on the house.” The French man laughs harder at your offer, but he doesn’t decline.

“I’m glad you’re this excited, because you’re going with Seokjin.”

Immensely thanking the heavens that you were looking down the whole time while reading the document, else your mentor would’ve seen the instantaneous scowl that graced your face at the mere mention of the-man-who-shall-not-be-named.

You force a smile onto your features before looking back up at Frank. “Kim Seokjin? As in Kim Seokjin who just won GCAEA’s Chef of the Year Award earlier?”

With slumped shoulders, you lean farther backward in your seat. The Asian Gourmet Conference was one of the most anticipated conferences in the whole of Asia. It was an event highly awaited by many in the culinary field, especially one of its main events where they invite gourmet chefs from all parts of the world to compete for the best dish ever and a $200,000 prize.

The contest was another thing though, because two representatives will be vying for each country, so the winning pair will get to come home with $100,000 each. You really wouldn’t have put any thought into who your partner would have been if you were.

Your head fills with dread at the thought of having Seokjin as your partner. It was bad enough that he owns the gourmet restaurant next to yours, and that he’d attended GCAEA which caused more unwanted interactions with him.

“Yes him. From what I’ve heard, people say he’s a rising star, and that his newly established restaurant was getting a lot of good reviews.”

“It’s the restaurant next to mine, chef.”

“Ha! Seems like you’ve finally met your match, darling. Pretty sure that can apply romance-wise as well…”

“Why does everybody keep shipping us?” You wonder, subconsciously vocalizing your thoughts.

“You two look like you have his-…I think… you two would just look great together!”

“Ship? You know what ship means?” You look at him incredulously.

“It’s when you like the idea of two people together right? My daughter says it all time because of these Korean boys with bright hair – actually, when she knew I was going here to attend GCAEA as a guest she kept on nagging me to buy her albums and these sticks…”

“Sticks?”

“Yeah, the lightning ones?”

“Lightning?” You stifle a laugh. “You mean lightsticks, right?”

“Whatever they’re called, _______.” Frank Boucher gives you his infamous glare.

Nearly snorting at the sight of your mentor looking physically and mentally exhausted with trying to keep up with his fangirling daughter, you offer him another bottle because he seems like he needs it more than you do.

Your conversation falls into talking about your current lives and the stresses of running a restaurant, with Frank eventually leading the conversation about the person you’d least likely enjoy talking about. He tells you about your neighboring rival, how he’s done just as well with his own place like what you did with yours. He’s proud that both of his students had established their names in Korea’s gourmet society even at such a young age.

The clocks finally hits ten thirty and Frank takes this as his cue to get going.“Great! Your plane ticket and hotel booking has probably already been sent by my secretary to your email. The convention is only for three days, but the two extra days are on me. Take it as a gift for Canapé’s opening. Go enjoy yourself, _______”

Forcing another bright smile onto your face, you bid your goodbye to your mentor, locking the front door of your restaurant as he leaves. Five days with Seokjin. May the gods have mercy on you.

The four-hour flight to the Philippines had been excruciatingly awkward. To say the least.

You hadn’t talked to each other for the most part. In fact, the only time you had interacted with each other was when you’d waken him up because you had already landed at the airport. The both of you had barely spoken to each other even on your way to the hotel. Occasionally he’d ask you questions that only warranted monosyllabic responses from you.

You’re glad that weariness passed as the only excuse for the lack of interaction. The moment you’d met up at the airport, fatigue had already been evident in both your faces, so your pair had ended up with alternating sleeping schedules during the length of your flight and up to the taxi ride to your hotel.

Only a few words were shared between you when you’ve finally arrived in front of your rooms – something along the lines of ‘good night’ and ‘see you tomorrow’. As you let sleep take over you that night, you pray that everything will go smoothly for the entirety of your stay.

“Lovely afternoon to all of you present here today at this year’s Asian Gourmet Conference!” Excited applause falls amongst the crowd, cheering on different countries, even though they screamed the most for Team Philippines. The host greets the audience and the participants one more time, before proceeding to the guidelines of the event.

“For the first challenge of our main event, we’d like the chefs to cook two staple dishes from their respective home countries – but with a twist! Our chefs will have to use Filipino ingredients only! This is where we put their creativity and talent to the test. To our chefs, please be reminded that we will be giving you an hour to prepare your fusion dishes. While you guys are cooking, I’ll be going around to interview almost fifty chefs who have come from all parts of the world just to join us today.”

You start brainstorming with Seokjin the moment the host leaves the stage. “You’ve been to the Philippines a few times right? You’ve tried some of their food?” your partner asks, turning to you. You’re surprised he even remembered…if you had recalled properly, you had only mentioned it once back in Paris that you did visit the Philippines on occasion.

“Um, yes…I’ve been here a couple of times,” you reply, racking your brain for any Korean dishes that might hold any similarity with Korean staples. “I only remember Sinigang, and Adobe…”

“I’m pretty sure they call it Adobo here Seokjin,” you make no attempt to suppress the giggle the escapes your lips as he mistakes computer software for food.

“But the challenge is only to make our home country’s staples with Philippine ingredients… so this shouldn’t be that big of a fusion problem since rice is also considered a vital part of their meals here…”

“You think good ‘ole Bibimbap will do? Pretty much all the ingredients are available here…What else could we have?” Seokjin asks, taking a notepad and a pen from his jacket. “We can have tteokbokki for the appetizer and bingsu for dessert.”

You get to cooking right after you and Seokjin agree on the ingredients you were going to use. Maybe working with Seokjin wasn’t so bad after all. Not even fifteen minutes into the competition, you see a few girls cheer Seokjin on, ceaselessly calling your partner “Seokjin oppa!” They screams only seem to spur Seokjin on, who’s now showing off his knife skills. You roll your eyes as you shake your head, crushing the garlic a little too hard against the board.

“Jealous much?” your partner asks. You can feel Seokjin smirking beside you.

“You wish, Kim Seokjin.”

“Whatever floats your boat, ________,” he sighs, “If only my partner could also send me words of encouragement rather than staying silent the whole time,” he mumbles to himself, thinking it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear.

“You and I both know this mouth is better at something else.” You turn to him, giving Seokjin a playful wink before setting the ingredients to the bibimbap on one side. He nearly drops the knife he’s holding at your comment, obviously scandalized by your innuendo.

Even with the time racing against you, everything was still going as planned, you just needed to hurry with the final parts of the dishes and you’d be able to beat the buzzer which was bound to ring in less than twenty minutes. That is until the salt container placed on top of this tall arrangement of pots topples over the shaved ice you’ve prepared for the bingsu. You see the ice melt before your eyes, and you quickly move to the container, removing some of the ice that was turning into water.

“Shit! Sorry ________!” He drops the pans he held in his arms onto the sink, scampering to your side afterwards. “Can I help –“

“No! I…It’s fine, Seokjin, just…just go back to whatever you were doing earlier. And please be careful next time.” Seokjin nods curtly, before going back to clean the pans. “______, why does it smell like something’s burning?”

“Fuck!” Cursing under your breath, you hurry towards the pot where the rice was cooking. As you remove the cover, the smell of burnt rice and a failed dish wafts through your nose, causing you to take a deep breath as you attempt to calm yourself down.

Reluctantly, you scoop out the rice that wasn’t burnt and place it onto the stone pot and start plating your bibimbap. Seokjin likewise helps you finish plating the tteokbokki and bingsu in silence.

Needless to say, your burnt rice didn’t make it through the first round. It didn’t mean that you were disqualified from the competition though, but in order to win the cash prize, you will have to make it through all three challenges of the event. That same evening as you take the cab back to the hotel, the despondence in the air is thicker than ever.

“See you tomorrow, ______.” Seokjin says, giving you a small smile as he stops in front of his door.

“Right. See you tomorrow, Seokjin. Sleep well.”

It’s ironic how it was you who actually needed that phrase and not Seokjin. You’ve watched the clock tick away, turned on the television for something to watch on the local news channels which were thankfully spoken in English, you had also resorted to Netflix on your phone, but all to no avail.

Admittedly, you had finished an Iced Americano in fifteen minutes earlier this morning but you figure it’s the entire ‘burnt rice’ accident that’s keeping you awake at this hour. Heaving a deep sigh, you lift the covers off your body, put on a hoodie and headed outside.

You pause by Seokjin’s door momentarily, with the strong urge to knock on his door and apologize for your lack of professionalism earlier this afternoon. Seokjin didn’t really mean to pour the salt over the ice at the event, and the way you reacted was unnecessarily rude.

Seokjin was probably asleep though, and you didn’t want to further embarrass yourself by waking him in the middle of the night. Retracting your hand that was merely inches away from his door, you turn on your heel and decide to apologize to him first thing in the morning tomorrow. Maybe even get him an extra something to show the depth of your regret and guilt.

After having asked the receptionist for directions towards the nearest convenience store, you’re suddenly regretting having worn shorts on your way out – the exposed skin of your legs prickling as the chilly evening air bites at it. Spotting 7-Eleven just across the street, you walk quickly towards the convenience store, desperate to feel warmth in this cold night.

The mellifluous sound of the bell echoes throughout the small store as you enter, that particular smell of convenience stores wafting through your senses. You decide to explore the shop a little, trying to look for something to eat.

Quite ironically, you’ve cooked nearly a thousand dishes in your lifetime, and having to cook another shouldn’t be that much of a burden but when your mind is swirling with thoughts just like tonight, you can’t seem to bring yourself to cook even the simplest dish – like it’s too great of a task to burden yourself with.

So during times like this, you turn to instant noodles, the ultimate lifesaver since your culinary school days. Hopefully no one from GCAEA or the AGC finds you like this, a dignified gourmet chef who’s starting to establish her name in the culinary field, crawling convenience stores in the middle of the night and slurping instant noodles away like it’s her last day on Earth.

You finally get to the noodles section, where you see a man in a hoodie, likewise skimming through the same aisle as you. The receptionist had told you to be wary of sketchy-looking people especially during the wee hours of the morning so you hurry with your own search as you look for a certain brand of cup noodles. Shin Ramyeon.

It should be here somewhere… As far as you’re concerned as a consumer, it’s being exported to over a hundred countries now so it must be here. Going over the entire aisle one last time, you finally see the red cup, reaching over the lone cup of Shin Ramyeon left on the shelf. The problem was, you weren’t the only one who was reaching for it.

Why do those fingers look insanely familiar?

Your eyes widen gradually as you slowly trail them up to see the owner of those hands. Of course, who else could it have been? You call out each other’s name at the same time.

“Seokjin.” “________.”

“You can have it.” You spoke in unison again.

“It’s fine really, you can have it. I’ll just look for another brand,” you tell him, handing over the cup with perfectly controlled reluctance.

“Would you mind if we shared, perhaps?” You stare at him, completely taken aback by his offer. “Or not…I mean- forget I even said that… Here take it.” He hands the cup to you and starts to leave.

“Jin! I- I don’t mind sharing.” Biting on his lip, he attempts to hide the smile that slowly etches into his face as he hears the nickname only you have for him. He turns to face you again. “Okay.” Seokjin gives you a smile, grabs the cup noodles from your grasp and orders you to look for seats while he pays for your shared midnight snack.

Slowly, you trudge towards the limited number of seats they offer at the convenience store and find a spot by the windows. Seokjin arrives at your table a couple of minutes afterwards.

It was now or never. You owed Seokjin an apology after having rudely declined his offer of help during the event, even when the whole fiasco was just an accident. You figure if you don’t apologize for your unjust behavior, guilt is most likely going to eat at you for a very, very long time. Seokjin’s dejected yet still beautiful face will haunt you in your dreams.

As Seokjin busies himself with adding the ingredients onto the paper cup, you take this opportunity to speak up. “Jin,” you start, the nickname sending Seokjin’s heart into another frenzy. “About the bibimbap earlier, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, ________. It was my fault anyway. I should be the one apologizing right now, but…hold that thought for a moment…” He looks away, letting out a sneeze. “….it’s the powder seasoning, sorry… As I was saying, I’d also like to apologize about what happened earlier, I mean if I didn’t try to carry so much, the salt wouldn’t have toppled over.”

“Hey! I should be the one apologizing right now! Stop stealing my thunder!” You pout, begrudgingly taking the small carton of milk Seokjin bought to go with the ramen. You can’t say you aren’t pleasantly surprised at how he remembers this habit of yours too. For some reason, he remembers how you always have milk ready whenever you eat something spicy.

“Anyways… I also wanted to apologize for my rude behavior towards you back at the event. It was an accident, yet I reacted badly and declined your assistance. It was only after the event that I realized that we’re supposed to be helping each other, and not treating each other poorly.”

“Don’t worry yourself too much about it, ______. Besides, we still have two days to redeem ourselves right?” Seokjin sends a warm smile your way, one you cannot help but return.

“What else are you waiting for? The ramen is getting cold and lonely.”

“You sure you aren’t talking about yourself?”

“You know, I’m thinking maybe you should get your own instant noodles,” Seokjin comments, fingers curling around the paper cup.

“Okay, okay, geez.” Throwing your hands up in defense, you thank him for paying for the noodles and the milk before pulling your chopsticks apart and digging in. As you take your first bite, Seokjin suddenly speaks up.

“Is it just me, or I am really very anxious right now…what if someone might see us?”

“Last time I checked, there’s nothing wrong with eating inside a convenience store.”

“No, no. But we’re like… owners…of restaurants…that serve gourmet food…yet here we are, at half past twelve in the morning, sharing cup noodles like it’s the last meal in the world due to a zombie apocalypse.”

“I get how you feel, but I don’t think we’d agree on the zombie apocalypse part…”

The conversation flows naturally between the both of you, like two friends casually catching up with each other’s lives. Seokjin was in the middle of talking when you hear the pitter-patter of rain outside. Tiny droplets of water slide down the glass panels, slowly turning into heavier ones.

You look at each other. “Should we?”

“We can wait this out if you’d like…” Seokjin proposes, though he isn’t so sure he wants to go with his offer either. The sudden downpour doesn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. “Forget what I said, we should leave before this gets worse. Wait here.” Seokjin stands up, goes through each aisle of the convenience store, and returns to where you’re seated. “Damn, they just ran out of umbrellas.”

“We could just run back the hotel…it’s just one crosswalk away.”

“You sure about that? What if you get sick?”

“Let’s just hope we won’t then.” Seokjin gives you a nod in approval. “Before we go out though,” he pulls his hoodie off his torso, giving you a slight show of his abdominals as he raises his hands. You abruptly look away, before nasty thoughts overcome you.

Placing his hoodie over both your heads, Seokjin peers down at you. “Ready when you are.” The quick sprint back to the hotel has you both screaming and laughing at the same time. You weren’t surprised that Seokjin’s hoodie barely served its purpose. You were both drenched from the neck down, attracting unwanted attention from people with your appearance.

With less than a few more steps before you reach your hotel rooms, you feel trepidation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. What’s going to happen now? Were you supposed to forget what happened between the two of you three years ago just like that? Was your midnight ramen run officially a clean slate?

Seokjin has his back facing you, the thin, white material of his shirt clinging sinfully to his skin. Every second spent with Seokjin was the best form of punishment in both ways “Are you going to sleep?” You don’t think that was going to happen anytime soon, now that you’re once again blessed with his visuals and perfectly sculpted body.

Seokjin turns to face you, waiting for your response. You shake your head no, eyes unabashedly staring at the outline of his six-pack. The man lets out a cough, drawing you out of your reverie. “Wanna keep warm for a bit and talk over hot chocolate?”

Why do you get the feeling it’s not just hot chocolate that’s going to keep you warm tonight?

“Sure.” Your voice comes out small, swallowing loudly as he unlocks the door to his room.

The tension in the air is so thick that you’re actually having difficulty trying to breathe normally. Seokjin sets his wet hoodie on the floor before meeting your eyes, pupils already dilated. He momentarily holds his stare, eyes raking all over your equally drenched body. He points a finger sideways, “Hot chocolate.” Subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, you nod, unable to form any coherent words in your head.

As he heads towards the kitchenette, you rub your face with your hands, before placing a hand over your chest. “Calm down, girl. It’s not like you’ve never seen abs before.” This is like Paris all over again, and you weigh the possible outcome of this situation. If you’re reading the signs right, Seokjin is clearly just affected as you are. Are you really willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve like this one more time? You rack your brain for answers, yet all it does is betray you with images of the rippling muscles underneath Seokjin’s shirt.

Ah, fuck it.

“Jin?” you call out as you reach the wall separating the kitchenette. Just as you peek through the divider, Seokjin rakes a hand through his temple, his hair now pushed back and forehead visible. You practically hear your resolve shattering into pieces.

Taking initiative, you close the distance between the both of you, connecting your lips with his in a feverish kiss. He tastes spicy – just like the ramen you’ve shared just minutes ago, but god, your favorite ramen and Seokjin’s lips; if that ain’t the hottest combination in the world – both literally, and figuratively.

You kiss Seokjin fervently like you’re going to crumble if his lips aren’t connected with yours. One hand of his raises to get rid of the scrunchie holding your hair up in a ponytail, and he lets his fingers card through your wet hair gently. The intensity of his kiss practically devours you, his hands grabbing hastily at your clothes. He’s itching to take them off your body, yet you feel the hesitation in his actions, waiting for that sign from you before he can do so as he pleases.

Pulling away to take a breather, you tug your hoodie up and off you, with Seokjin helping you with the task. "You don’t know how much I’ve longed for this, fuck." He seizes your mouth with his once more like a man starved.

Seokjin groans as he finally gets a view of the amount of lace you’re wearing underneath your hoodie. “I’d love to have you in your lingerie another time, but for now, let’s get you naked for me, hmm?” You’re barely allowed a second to fully comprehend his statement about lingerie and another time before Seokjin discards of the red lacy bra you have on and attaching his lips to one of your nipples.

Gasping at the sensation, you arch your back so that you’re practically pressing your chest against his face, greedily asking for more. Hooking a finger inside the waistband of your gym shorts, Seokjin easily tugs your shorts down along with your underwear.

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to the counter for his convenience. You shiver slightly when your ass comes in contact with the coldness of the marble. As if on instinct, your legs spread wider, seemingly inviting him to come closer to you.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

“Mhmmm,” your words are muffled as you ardently kiss him. Seokjin brings his lips back to your breasts, biting and pulling at one while the other gets kneaded under his palm. Equally just as impatient as you are, Seokjin lets a hand trail in between your bodies, tentatively brushing against your core to gauge your reaction.

Your body quakes in anticipation, and Seokjin teases you even further by slowly rubbing the pad of his finger on your clit. “Jin, please,” you beseech. “Gotta prepare you first, baby girl.” Letting your head fall back at the sensation (and the pet name!), Seokjin decides to give you what you want, seeing as though you were wet enough that taking his cock right now won’t be a problem. He finally slides a finger inside, your body trembling at the intrusion. God, it’s been too long.

Okay, honestly speaking, you really didn’t take interest in another man when Seokjin entered your life three years ago, and now that you’re back here in this compromising situation with his finger sliding in and out of you languidly, you feel like you could just cum at the thought of it alone.

Seokjin adds another finger, continuing the pace. You moan wantonly as Seokjin curls his fingers, your velvety walls clenching around his digits. He can tell you’re getting close, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

Without having to slide his fingers out of you, Seokjin grabs at one of the chairs and pulls it towards himself so he can sit.

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer, merely centimeters away from your cunt. Your cheeks are set ablaze at his brazen action, opening your mouth to say something, falling speechless yet again as Seokjin’s lips come in contact with your nether lips. The man licks a bold stripe along the length of your folds, your hands instantly finding purchase on his hair as you’ve got nothing else to hold on to. He repeats the action all over again, this time adding his fingers to slide in and out of you and toy with your clit. A few more licks and a particular curl of his digits, Seokjin makes you cum for the first time again in three years, so hard that you’re body’s trembling even after he sets your legs down

You’re breathing heavily, resting your forehead on Seokjin’s temple. “Mind taking a shower with me? It’s important to bathe after running the rain” Seokjin looks up at you, eyes pleading.

“I would, if I’m still able to walk.”

“Who said you were going to walk?” Seokjin maneuvers you on top of the counter, placing his hands under your knees and on your back, carrying you bridal style towards the bath. As soon as he settles you down onto the tub, he turns the faucet on and leaves you there for a moment, telling you that he was just going to grab something from his luggage.

You rest your head against the edge of the tub as you wait for Seokjin. You slowly feel exhaustion taking over you, but when you hear Seokjin’s muted footsteps against the carpeted floor, your eyes pry open only to see Seokjin in his boxers, holding a bath bomb in his palm. You gulp. This was going to be one hell of a night.

Just like before, Seokjin has you cumming thrice in the bath, once when he took you from underneath, making sure that the water fell perfectly on your clit for added stimulation as he slid his length in and out of you. He’d made you cum when you rode him as well, water sloshing everywhere at your naughty shenanigans in the bath. Even after two orgasms, Seokjin just won’t quit, having bent you over as you faced the wall, pounding you from behind.

Seokjin, with his libido seemingly running 24/7 tells you he wasn’t done with you just yet, saying he’s still got three years worth more of fucking to give you. He wanted to give you the most unforgettable sex of your life, and boy, was he adamant about it.

Seemingly not having had enough of you yet after helping you scrub almost the whole expanse of your skin, he finds himself getting hard again at the sight of you in just his shirt and nothing else. You meant to sleep by that time, but as soon as Seokjin spooned you, you’d felt his clothed erection already grinding against your ass. You no longer kept count of how many times he made you cum.

The sunlight peeks through a tiny slit through the curtains, the heat perfectly hitting your face, causing you to wake up. Your body is sore all over, and as you roll to the other side while stretching out your limbs, you spot next to you empty.

Of course. You’re a fucking dumbass.

Hastily grabbing your clothes strewn across the floor, you head out of his room, tears already brimming in your eyes. Your vision is getting blurry by the second, and you angrily swipe at your cheeks as you feel a singular tear roll down. As you curse Seokjin under your breath, you bump into none other than the devil himself. “Oh! You’re awake?”

You don’t answer, stepping aside so you could go back to your room and rethink your life decisions.

“Where are you going, _______?”

“Out of your room, and hopefully out of your life as well.”

“Wait - ______! What are you talking about?” Seokjin extends his hand to grab your arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Seokjin.” The venom laced with your words makes him reel, retracting the arm he had held out to reach you. “I really never meant anything to you, hm? Fuck, I have probably reached desperation to return back into your arms that easily.”

“Desperation? That’s all it was last night? And the one three years ago?”

“I should be the one asking you that question!”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Are you really that fucking dense, Seokjin? You were the one who left me alone in the room that morning, and now you’ve done it again. Congratulations on having a new notch on your belt. And I’m a fucking fool for even thinking you felt otherwise!”

“You think I left you that morning?”

“I’m not done yet—what did you say?”

“You were the one who left that morning!”

“I did not! When I woke up, you weren’t there, nor were you anywhere inside your entire apartment! Do you know how embarrassing that was!” You pause, lips trembling, “F-For someone who actually meant something to you only seeing you as just some one-night stand?! Someone who you could use to get your dick wet?!”

“You like m-“

“You’re missing the entire point here, Kim Seokjin!”

“What’s happening here?” A raspy voice asks, the familiar mop of curly hair coming into view. Rafa?

“Oh my god! You like me, fuck! I could just kiss you right now!” Seokjin doesn’t even hesistate, already leaning towards your face and connecting your lips. You almost melt into his arms at the sensation, but you pull away just as instantly, tears freely rolling down. “Am I really just a joke to you, Jin? Have you ever even taken into consideration my feelings, even once?”

“______, darling. This is all a misunderstanding. Well, I did leave that morning, but I just went out to Rafa next door to shower. I—you looked so peaceful as you slept that I really didn’t want to bother waking you up to tell you that I can’t shower with cold water and it’s like déjà vu all of a sudden and…wait!” Seokjin drags poor Rafael who’s still looks like he’s half-asleep. “Rafa can verify the truth!”

Rafael sighs, once again caught in the middle of something he no longer wants to be a part of. “It’s true, ______. This guy’s pretty much in love with you. It’s just an unfortunate fact that this same guy has plenty of annoying habits that gets him in trouble most times. Just like not being able handle water that is below 26 degrees Celsius.”

You’re looking back and forth Seokjin and Rafa, trying to study their features if they’re being questionable or not. Finding no trace of mirth in their eyes, you turn to Seokjin. “You really didn’t leave me that morning and… today?”

“No. I could never. I’m a fucking dumbass for not thinking about what you could’ve felt that time and today…or telling you that I was just heading out to Rafa’s to shower because for some reason my heater isn’t always functioning…”

“Glad to know you’ve finally acknowledged that you’re a bloody idiot.” Rafa speaks up, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin, taking a sip from his mug. Since when was that in his hands? Rafa sees you stare at his mug, and answers your silent question, “Was planning to drink this while it was hot earlier but I don’t see anything wrong with drinking cold coffee while watching a live action soap opera.”

“Funny how a night of fucking like wild rabbits can do so much to people,” Rafa adds, scoffing as he retreats back to his room. You lean your head towards Seokjin’s chest, embarrassed out of your wits. Seokjin puts an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. “Don’t mind Rafa. He’s just jealous.”

“I can perfectly hear you, Kim Seokjin!”

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