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timeagainreviews · 1 year ago

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Putting the Mid in Midnight: Wild Blue Yonder

If I were to mention the film “The Horror at Party Beach,” no one would blame you for having never heard of it. In the annals of horror history, it left minimal impact on the genre. Why then were audiences asked to sign a “fright waiver,” before being permitted to see the film? Because it was never about the audience dying of fright. It was a dare to the viewer, one almost as old as cinema itself. William Castle used to start his films with a warning to the more delicate members of the audience. Reports of people fainting during “The Exorcist,” or more recently “Terrifier 2,” create a buzz around those films. Can you survive the horror or will you wind up in the hospital? The only way to know for sure is to buy a ticket! This is why when Russell T Davies issued a warning that “Wild Blue Yonder,” was possibly too scary for the kiddies, I saw it for what it was.

While I don’t doubt there was some concern that certain children may be disturbed by the imagery and tone of last night’s episode, it feels more like Davies asking audiences to just go with it. Similarly, Davies also asked us to just go with the idea of David Tennant returning by first introducing us to Ncuti Gatwa. “This isn’t a forever thing or the show moving backwards. Just go it.” After seeing how tumultuous the fandom has been since *checks notes* 1963, it feels like Davies’ tactic to unite the fandom is to encourage them to just go with it. It also feels like Davies is riffing a little, trying new things. “Wild Blue Yonder,” is an engaging exploration of the new while also referencing some of the old. Yet despite all of its experimentation, much of it feels like familiar territory.

First and foremost, I would like to state that I admire the hell out of this episode. On the rad vs trad debate, this puts one giant foot down for rad. With that said and out of the way, we need to talk about that intro. When it comes to the race of Isaac Newton you might say the show should be educational and therefore accurate in its depiction of race. But pretty early on, Doctor Who abandoned all pretence of being educational. And more recent attempts at being educational have left us with Jodie Whittaker spouting off a Wikipedia summary about an asteroid. You could also argue that this is a different type of education. A lesson in what it feels like to see your own people played by someone white. Considering Doctor Who’s history of brownface, I’m gonna say y’all need to chill the fuck out. Just go with it.

My only issue with this scene is much like the issue I had with the Children in Need special. The humour just falls so flat for me. It was a big thud on arrival. From the Kaled anagram sequence to mavity, it just doesn’t work for me. Part of me wonders if this isn’t in part because David Tennant and Catherine Tate were never on set with Nathaniel Curtis. There was no chance of improving with improv. I mentioned last week that some of the representation stuff also felt clunky. It’s weird too because when the show isn’t actively trying to make me laugh or view trans people like myself as valid, it comes off as funny and validating. Sylvia’s tuna masala and or Donna’s love for Rose do such a better job at both, yet they’re the quieter moments of the show thus far. It’s ironic to me that the more powerful moments of the second Davies era have been understated.

It’s easy to write this overstatement off, however. Thinking back to the 50th anniversary special, Clara’s line of turning people into frogs fell flat for me at the time. Now I look back at is as kind of charming. And furthermore, these big events like Children in Need, Christmas, or anniversaries get away with a bit of excess. The humour is more broad because they expect more people to be watching. It’s a time of merriment. It’s also part of why I appreciate “Wild Blue Yonder,” so much. Davies was attempting a weirder “Midnight-esque” episode in the middle of a highly publicised media event. He knew it was a bit of an ask for some audience members. Once again, it feels like an invitation to the rest of the fandom to allow room for exploration. If Doctor Who and the fandom are currently fractured, do we really need to put it back together in the same shape? Does it even need being put back together? Why not just fill the cracks with some seeds and see what grows out of them?

Since “The Star Beast,” aired, I’ve seen some people complaining that the sonic screwdriver has become too OP. Apparently, making sonic barriers is less believable than joining two cut ends of barbed wire. While I do understand that the sonic screwdriver can be a crutch for bad writing, I also understand it to be incredibly cool. Like, I’m sorry, cool beats your need for locked doors any day. If you need absolute realism in what you watch, might I suggest the window? It’s a freaking magic wand, people. Let it be magical. Doctor Who isn’t hard sci-fi. If Doctor Who’s sci-fi were a cheese, it would be brie. It looks hard but it’s gooey at its centre. You can argue that the sonic screwdriver being capable of repairing the TARDIS is too OP, but it’s also the device which removes two major plot conveniences in this episode- the TARDIS and the sonic screwdriver.

The Doctor and Donna are doing this one without a safety net. They’ve both been pared back to who they are as people. I had a feeling going in that this episode was going to have a smaller cast. It feels like Davies taking a stab at a sort of “Heaven Sent,” narrative that dissects the Doctor and Donna. In other ways it feels like an homage to Davies' own pared-back classic “Midnight,” which has gained cult status as one of his best scripts. In the short stories of Robert Aickman, readers are often left unaware when exactly things get strange. His protagonists walk through their worlds unaware of exactly when things turned hostile until they’re in the thick of it. In the same manner, much of the opening scenes of “Wild Blue Yonder,” leave us waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it does, you may not notice right away.

Coming directly off the tonal whiplash of the Isaac Newton scene to a scenario so dangerous that it set off the H.A.D.S. system, it’s nice that the episode eases into its weirdness. The TARDIS’ eerie recitation of the song “Wild Blue Yonder,” echoes through the air with a reminder from Wilf, via Donna, that the song is not a jolly anthem, but a declaration of war. So we sit in the mystery of this gigantic ship sitting at the edge of the universe with its shifting corridors and its slow robot, as we try to ignore the clanking sound just outside the ship. It feels a bit like Doctor Who doing a haunted house in space, but you’re not exactly sure why. It’s Amityville in Space, but good.

With no sonic or TARDIS at his disposal, the Doctor can’t just point his magic wand. Even worse, the Doctor doesn’t even have the benefit of the TARDIS’ translation circuit. Whatever language this civilization uses on their ship, it’s not one of the 57,000,000,205 languages the Doctor can speak. But one language the Doctor can speak is mathematics. The Doctor may not have his tools, but he still has his mind. Deciphering the base ten of this unknown species, the Doctor can begin piecing together what is going on in this ship. Perhaps if he can figure out why an airlock had been jettisoned in the past, it might give a clue to what is happening. If he can remove the threat from the ship, the TARDIS might return. Otherwise, he and Donna could be forever stranded on this ghost ship hovering over nothingness.

If this ship is haunted, we’re about to meet the ghosts who call this place home. The Not-Things arrive quietly. So quiet that the shot establishing two Doctors and two Donnas in separate rooms initially seemed like a bad edit. When did the two of them get split up? It’s hard to remember. But we’re pretty sure the Doctor who licked the goo on the circuit is the real deal. Tasting things to figure out what they are is a classic Tennant move. The Doctor pretending to have a bad reaction to the goo evoked the Fourth Doctor pretending to go mad with power over the Key to Time. I wonder now if that wasn’t the Doctor testing a theory in the back of his mind because Donna was feeling a bit off. The Doctor has shown in the past that he knows when his companion is compromised in some way. Last week we were given early warning signs that the Doctor was becoming increasingly wary of the Meep.

Having the characters note a fluctuation in the temperature or the line “My arms are too long,” felt right at home with things like “Don’t blink!” or “Hey, who turned out the lights?” Their visible breath as an omen of ill tidings sits comfortably next to having two shadows or marking your skin to remember the Silence. I love how Doctor Who can turn everyday things like statues, shop dummies, or seeing your breath into danger. Those are the moments for the children hiding behind the sofa. One of Doctor Who’s greatest strengths is its ability to use allegory to help children face real fears. These are the modern equivalent of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

For a brief moment, I worried the Not-Things were going to spend the whole episode with Donkey Kong arms. While an effective and trippy visual, it would have started to look goofy after the initial shock had worn off. Watching “Return to Oz,” as an adult, I’m no longer scared of the Wheelers, but as a child they had me covering my eyes. Seeing the Doctor and Donna in these twisted forms was disturbing and creepy. I can see how this episode will stick with younger members of the audience for years. I also imagine it as future fetish fuel, but that’s unavoidable. In the words of Community’s Dean Pelton- “This better not awaken anything in me.”

Watching the Doctor and Donna drive away from these twisted angry giants reminded me of Leela and K9 fleeing guards in “The Sunmakers,” or even bits from “Terminator 2: Judgement Day.” I also got whiffs of “Sin-Eaters,” from the Titan comics line. While the sharp teeth and asymmetric contortions of the distorted Doctor and Donna do a lot to sell these monsters, it’s the performances of the actors that tip the scale. Other than the times we’re not supposed to know who is who, they feel like different characters. It started tricking my brain into thinking of the Not-Things as completely different actors.

An issue I have seen come up about the Not-Things is their special effects. If you were worried that the Disney+ money was going to make the show look too polished, worry not. While many of the shots in this episode were very good, and I love the continued use of practical effects, some of the effects of the Not-Things were a bit naff. But much like the Power Rangers effects from the acid ocean scene in “The Halloween Apocalypse,” I found it charming. The only one shot from any of these sequences that I would call bad is the shot of the Not-Thing Doctor with his head between his legs. It should have either been cut or reworked.

It’s hard to talk about the plot in this story. Mysteries are looming, but for the most part it’s a series of chases punctuated by “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” paranoia. But that isn’t to say that the screen time is wasted. Davies uses this as an opportunity to explore the Doctor’s emotional state after the events of the Flux. Something which hadn’t seemed to affect the Doctor much since the end of “The Vanquishers.” It’s also interesting to know Davies hasn’t forgotten that half the universe was destroyed by the Flux, as Chibnall seemed to have forgotten immediately after. A friend even texted me today saying how Davies treated the Flux more seriously than Chibnall, and I don’t disagree. I felt like he did a better job explaining what actually happened during the Flux. Perhaps it was bad writing, or perhaps I had already given up hope on the era, but I had no idea that the Flux had anything to do with the Doctor. I’m not even joking. It wasn’t even apparent how much of the universe had been destroyed until last night. I learned more about the Flux from a couple of lines of dialogue than I did from six episodes of “The Flux.”

After the Doctor and Donna suss out who is who, they manage to put a little space between them and the Not-Things first by way of a line of salt and ultimately by a glass door. It was at this point in the episode that I made the strongest connections to “Midnight.” The doppelgangers watching Donna and the Doctor’s every move, reading every thought, to mimic them perfectly was a lot like the creature on the Midnight tour shuttle. In both stories the creatures even reach a point where they begin studying their prey. Noting every minor movement and tic. In both stories, formless creatures are looking to hitch a ride in someone else’s body to wreak untold havoc elsewhere. Because of these similarities, I see this story as a spiritual sequel to “Midnight.” A sort of loving homage to the Tenth Doctor and Donna era.

The Not-Things dwelled in the vast nothingness at the edge of our universe growing to despise our boiling noisy existence. Like the song “Wild Blue Yonder,” their response to our shouting into the void is a declaration of war. They seemingly hate us for our existence. When the mystery ship arrived, they saw it as a perfect vessel to bring destruction to the universe. The Captain of this ship must have figured this out as it was she who set their demise into motion. Realising that the Not-Things have a harder time mimicking or noticing things that move slowly, the Captain set the ship’s robot on a very slow course to set the ship on self-destruct. She then threw herself out of the airlock to prevent the Not-Things from fully taking her form.

The Doctor and Donna’s discovery of the horselike Captain’s body as the source of the clanging against the ship demands a bit of discussion. In yet another clunky attempt at trans inclusion, the Doctor and Donna try and work out the pronouns of the Captain. The Doctor affirms to Donna that the Captain was a she, but gives no basis as to how he arrived at this conclusion. I find this noteworthy simply because it actually plays into a transphobic meme that says when trans people die, archaeologists will misgender us by our bones. Because by what means did the Doctor know the Captain was a she? He couldn’t even read her language. What if she was the first trans masc horse Captain? Are we really not gonna stan a horse king because of how his bones look? Obviously, I’m taking the piss. But I do feel like this illustrates the responsibility one takes on when they aim toward validating representation. A simple line to clear up how the Doctor knows this would help because otherwise, he’s just guessing with no reasoning to back it up.

Another weird aspect of this episode was the aforementioned glass door. If I had a quid for every time a Doctor Who 60th anniversary special ended with characters being separated by a glass door in a spaceship, I’d have two quid. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice. Also weird is that this episode marks the second time since we met the Fourteenth Doctor that the TARDIS enters a location by slamming into a wall. The first time being the Children in Need special “Destination: Skaro.” I would say this feels significant, but the TARDIS does land smoothly next to Cyber Dog at the beginning of “The Star Beast.” Another crash landing which could also mean nothing would be the TARDIS slamming into the tree that drops an apple on Isaac Newton’s head. Speaking of meaning nothing, what even was the point of that scene? Was it all to set up the mavity joke and the Doctor’s queerness? Or did it have a greater meaning? If not, they really should have just cut it all together. Perhaps air it as a minisode the day before “Wild Blue Yonder.” As an episode opener, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

After the Doctor almost escapes with the wrong Donna, the TARDIS gets a chance to show off its new ramps by using them to eject Not-Thing Donna like a middle-aged bowling ball. Our little android friend, now sped-up to real-time pushes the destruct button and takes the ship and Not-Things with it, thus finishing the Horse Captain’s brave mission to save the universe. I was sad we never really got to know the little robot. Its design reminded me a bit of Marvin the Paranoid Android from “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” I was ready to love its personality and then mourn its sacrifice. It’s weird that in some ways, the fan theory that we would see twisted versions of the Doctor did come halfway true. Only in this version, there was no evil Matt Smith or Peter Capaldi. It’s been a bit interesting to see the fan theories come so close yet remain so far away.

Bookending the episode is another scene removed from the main storyline, only this is a book I actually want to read. Returning the TARDIS back to the Cyber Dog location where it was last seen, we get our first glimpse of Wilfred Mott since “The End of Time.” Sadly, it’s also the final time Bernard Cribbins will grace the screen of Doctor Who ever again. This brief cameo was all they were able to film before Cribbins passed away in 2022. I think it’s safe to assume that most of us got a bit teary-eyed seeing ol’ Wilf one last time. As the Fourteenth Doctor said “I loved that man.” I’ve never met a Whovian who didn’t love his character. Seeing Wilf waiting for the Doctor and Donna to return, still believing in the Doctor after all these years, is exactly how you want to remember him. An ever-loyal soldier who doesn’t leave his post. And so shall he never leave our hearts. It was bitter-sweet, but I’m so glad we got to say goodbye.

Ultimately, this episode kept me engaged throughout its entire runtime. But where it falls short of “Midnight,” is in its inability to create the same level of tension. Perhaps it has to do with the special effects revealing so much under bright lighting. There is less left to our imaginations this time around, and therefore the scares are more on the surface. This doesn’t automatically make them uninteresting, only less engaging. It reminded me at times of the special effects from the new “It,” film series. At times it was creepy and at other times it felt like something from a computer. I’m still deeply interested in the dread the Doctor felt after introducing superstition at the edge of the universe, where the rules of reality are less defined. That seems like a bigger plot point that furthers my belief that RTD plans to continue breaking Doctor Who wide open. If I were to compare the quality of “Wild Blue Yonder,” to previous Doctor Who stories, I would go with “The Idiot’s Lantern,” or maybe “Flatline.” Both of these are episodes I enjoy but they aren’t earth-shattering either. As I said in my “Eve of the 60th” article, I would settle for competent and competent was what we got. I'm still very excited for what's to come.

#Doctor Who #Wild Blue Yonder #Fourteenth Doctor #David Tennant #Donna Noble #Catherine Tate #Not-Things #TARDIS #Russell T Davies #Wilfred Mott #Bernard Cribbins #RIP Bernard Cribbins #60th anniversary #Doctor Who 60th Anniversary #Isaac Newton #Nathaniel Curtis #BBC #timeagainreviews

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cornflowershade · 1 month ago

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okay watching my way through the gmmtv 2025, trailers lets gooo!

— dare you to death: this one actually looks like it could be fun! historically i'm not the biggest JoongDunk girl but they suit this sort of action genre well (seems they're escaping the uni bls between this and THK haha and I approve.) Imma keep my eye on it!! Feels like something I'd enjoy. Also side-note but i got all excited when i saw Pahn in the trailer. But is she the one who gets poisoned right off? I hope not, but I didn't notice her pop up again in the trailer after that intro sooo. anyway she was the actual highlight of My Love Mix-Up Th for me and I'd love to see more of her!

— head 2 head: initially i was like oh this looks like it's trying to do bad buddy vibes (less well lol) or smth but then it got a supernatural twist?? it ended up looking quite sweet, but i probably won't check this one out unless I see cute stuff from it all over my dash haha. I feel bad about that bc I LOVED Keen in 'Only Boo!' and he seems like a sweetheart here too. (i'd be interested to see him in a different pair sometime but the chances feel unlikely with the way gmmtv works lol)

—burnout syndrome: no real thoughts on this but that one character's art style is quite pretty? honestly i still have to finish Not Me (I loved it so far but never got past like ep 3 😭) and don't have many opinions regarding OffGun yet. Again, I'll see how my dash influences me or not. I will say there's a distinct underlying vibe to the trailer (which does feel reminiscent of Not Me) so I'll keep an open mind

—Whale Store xoxo: CUTE GL SIGN ME UP!! i hope to love this more than 23.5, MilkLove deserve that from me. Also eyy, not a high school show--nice!! And did you SEE the cute lil shots and the MONTAGE at the end and and and?? teeheehee. Going on the watchlist.

—Only Friends: Dream On: okay so Only Friends take 2 but different actors really did end up a reality, huh? Was feeling kinda meh but then Boston showed up ahah. Not sure how much he'll feature, though. And I have QUESTIONS. Why is he still out here helping ppl with final projects, did he not end up going to the U.S., and what about Mix walking into the end of s1? OH WAIT. sorry this sorted out in my head just now. I bet this takes places at the same time as S1. Boston probably knew both groups while in school, but was less in with these guys. (So like, imagine—when Mix enters the scene in s1, does that lead into a universe where BOTH of these messy groups end up merging into one giant flaming ultra-mess?) Anyway I'm still obsessed with the original OFTS but I don't necessarily expect to check this one out. Side-note: I do miss the more grungy aesthetic ngl, but I guess we owed a lot of that to Sand.

—That Summer: Neo!! sorry he showed up in the first few seconds and it made me happy. Prince Satang washed up on the beach. That shot is giving genderswap little mermaid hahaha. I'm not like super gripped by the trailer overall BUT it'll probably check it out for the actors? Congrats to them for getting main leads!! (Also Fawn if u see this YOU WERE RIGHT. Royalty SatangWinny was on your bingo card, you called it.)

—My Romance Scammer: Probably won't watch this series but heyyy, look at them using weddings as part of the plot! Also. MarkJunior! (They were the best part of Cherry Magic Th for me.)

—Melody of Secrets: Idk could be interesting? I mean there's murder and mysteries, so. Not at the top of my list tho. But: Jan!! She's been amazing in every series. If I check this out she will likely be the reason.

—Love you teacher: boy u don't sign up to be a teacher to follow your boyfriend and then learn to enjoy children along the way. YOU NEED TO CHOOSE THIS JOB BC U LIKE AND CARE ABOUT KIDS OR THAT ISN'T FAIR TO THEM OMG. yeah I work with children, this is personal haha. Okay sorry, paused the trailer to rant i'll be right back.

... okay that was a plot twist uh. i don't think this one is for me lol

—MU-TE-Luv: So like, overall I'm 'eh' on this but it has Jan and Keen and Jamie and Neo in drag?? I feel like there's too many plots to hold together, though. 7 pairs, that is a LOT. Might enjoy some of it through tumblr gifs haha

—Cat for Cash: Cackling at the voiceover "i'm a debt collector" as First rolls around with a pile of kitties LMAO. These silly vibes remind me that, OH YEAH, I love his comedy work. (This Shipper and his scenes in Wake Up Ladies??) Oh my GOD did that woman have special cat-whispering powers and then transferred them to First in death?? This could be fun wait. Comedy First + supernatural element, always good. Oh and here's Khao looking so pretty :) FK vibes are FK-ing... look at them pulling OFF this cute fluff piece! <3 *stamps emphatically* WATCHLIST (ok hits unpause) ... SATANG?? ooo 👀 Also sorry I know he's all sad but... laughing as Khao's character cries and starts his list of reasons for running off with "the cats here hate me" 😂 / first: THE CATS ALWays TELL ME HOW MUCH UR MOM LOVED U lmao this is so unserious i love it. Leave it to me to have the most exciting piece on the list be the FK one. And I also get a dose of Satang! (Good to know that even if I drop That Summer I'll still have him somewhere! <3) Anyway didn't expect to be as hyped for this title as I am but HERE WE ARE

—Girl Rules: pretty pretty pretty. THIS LOOKS FUN, I love the messy love triangle vibes hehe. I hope we actually get to see the mixed-up pairing moments too, like a real shot of the NamtanLove kiss etc 👀 it's giving slightly toned-down fem only friends. Let them kiss everybody pls pls. Regardless, I'm hyped for this one !!

—Boys in Love: oh, side couple has the guy who played Half in MLMU. He was good in that. Probably won't watch it but *shrug*

—My Magic Prophecy: Not many thoughts but this could be good? I'll keep my eye on it

—A Dog and A Plane: Unexpected but I might keep my eye on this too! Looks fun.

—Me and Thee: I mean it's PondPhuwin, of course I'll give this a go. Look like it could be entertaining :)

—Wu: They're really leaning into the fortune-teller aesthetics this year haha, this is like the 4th trailer featuring tarot cards i think?

—Mamoir of Rati: AouBoom leads WHEN?

—Ticket To Heaven: OOH we digging into the religious themes and guilt here huh. GemFourth IN DRAMA ROLES AGAIN, THEY HEARD ME!! YES!! YESSSEUGIHI. ugh Fourth acting his lil heart out. I am SEATED. Darn we ended on a high note here HUH. This might be one of my faves in the bunch actually

Obviously my dash might pull a couple things to the forefront for me—and I might check out but then ditch some things— but as of now these are my reactions! Gotta say it's a SHAME that there are only two GLs though. Cry. But overall I am HIGH KEY looking forward to some stuff xD

A recap for the benefit of my future self haha:

Dare you to Death - joongdunk Whale Store xoxo - milklove That Summer (?) - satangwinny Cat for Cash - fk Girl Rules - multi gl My Magic Prophecy (?) - jimmysea A Dog and A Plane (?) - taynew Me and Thee - pondphuwin Ticket To Heaven - gemfourth

Anddddd. Now we wait! 😂

#gmmtv 2025 #mine

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randomoranges · 5 months ago

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I started this fic 10000 years ago and somehow or other, what was supposed to be a short little haha fic turned into an 11 page mini-monster. This is from teacher au land because that’s the way I roll at times.

I kept wondering how it would be that Ed and Ét would come to know about the other being a queer and the original meet up scene came to me one day and I thought it was great. Of course, then it meant having to come up with the rest and how both of them would feel about the other knowing.

I’m also quite aware that not all schools and school environments are Super Conservative but everyone deals with their shit differently.

Finally, you may think Étienne is a little bit too considerate of Edward and not his usual selfish self, but I can assure you, he does act for his own benefit before Edward’s. He’s always been a friends first, everyone else after.

Safe

Started writing: June 5th 2024 3h14pm

Once the school year ends, Étienne feels as if he can finally be himself again. He no longer needs to be M Étienne and he can do whatever he pleases without having to worry about how it will seem to the children or how he could potentially be perceived by parents, staff or administrators.

Don’t get him wrong, he likes his job enough not to quit just yet, but there are aspects of it that feel archaic at best.

His first year at this new school teaching art hasn’t been so bad to the point where he’s accepted to return for a second. But now that it’s summer break, finally, he can put all of that behind and enjoy his free time whichever way he wants.

It so happens that tonight, he’s decided to go out. He’s often too tired during the school year or too busy or too something, but now, he can stay out late, hook up with whomever if he so pleases and he won’t have to worry about the bigger repercussions.

Normally, he likes to go out with his friends, but everyone seemed to have been busy or had previous plans. Étienne doesn’t mind, for it makes his night out different. He can dance with whomever he wants, he doesn’t have to check in with his friends, and if he wants to disappear with someone who’d caught his attention, he doesn’t have to let anyone know.

Tonight, that’s what he wants. He wants to get lost in the throngs of strangers, pressed close to warm bodies and roaming hands and finish his night in someone’s bed. (Or a bathroom stall, or a back alley. Whatever works. He’s not picky.)

Anyways.

There’s a decent crowd at the club and the music is just right; a perfect blend of retro dance hits mixed in with some modern tunes that don’t make his ears bleed just yet. He’s already on this side of tipsy and he’s highly considering getting another drink soon if no other pretty thing out here offers him one.

For now, however, he’s content grooving to the beat of the music, letting the notes envelop him in a warm cocoon. He’s giving himself until the end of the song before getting his drink, when someone puts their hands on his waist and presses in close.

Étienne grins to himself.

His night has just gotten better.

He leans back into the contact to see how comfortable his mysterious dance partner is and he is more than pleased when the person steps in closer and grinds against him.

The music picks up and it gets his blood circulating just a little bit faster. He loves the friction and loves the anonymous proximity of an unknown body pressed close to his. He moves to the rhythm of the music with his dance partner and lets the other’s hands do as they please, offering up his body to them as a gift.

Étienne’s always liked this side of going out alone. The chase. The temptation of the buffet of strangers ripe for his picking. The endless possibilities. The unknown of how his night will end and whom he’ll end it with. The freedom. The music pulsing in his veins. The game of cat and mouse.

They move together to the rhythm of the song, his dance partner’s breath tickling his ear, and their hands daring to dip under his tank top. Étienne closes his eyes to enjoy every bit of the moment while grinding back on his partner’s evident arousal. He’s giving them both until the end of the song to see if his new friend wants to find the nearest bathroom stall to mutually get off. He wouldn’t mind getting fucked by a stranger or sucking them off. He has condoms in his back pocket anyways for such occasions. It’s been a long while since a debauched night and Étienne feels it would be a proper inauguration to summer break.

He's also willing to follow whomever back home to their place if they’d rather do that instead. Or his own. Or, really, anywhere at this point, so long as the delicious friction currently going on can lead to sweet release. He’s not picky.

Finally, he turns in his dance partner’s embrace with the full intention of wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders and maybe sharing a kiss or two. He starts doing just that, insanely curious to see what his catch of the night looks like.

The lights seem to find them in that moment and illuminate both their faces, while the last few notes of the current song fade and bleed into the start of the next one in a seamless transition.

Étienne’s mind stills for a moment as it tries to sort through the information it’s receiving.

This is a handsome face, yet it looks familiar – but it shouldn’t be here.

This is a familiar face, yet he cannot for the life of him recall from where he knows this man.

And then it clicks, same as for the other man.

Étienne is – well, surprised more so than shocked. Or frightened.

Edward, on the other hand, looks completely horrified as his eyes go comically wide and he takes multiple steps back, trying to get as much distance between the two of them, when mere moments before it had been nothing but the contrary.

“Edward, wait,” He tries to shout over the noise of the music, but Edward has already bolted off the dance floor, miraculously only bulldozing a few dancers on his way out and Étienne tries his best to run after him.

He gets it – no, really, he does, and he can only imagine how Edward must feel at the moment. There could be a myriad of different reasons as to why Edward was out at a gay club, but the fact remains that Edward had never told him anything and neither had he.

That and Étienne had never necessarily told him whether he was an ally. But before Edward can come to his own conclusions, Étienne wants to tell and reassure him lest this gets any more out of hand.

He fears for a moment that he’s lost track of Edward, when he finally makes it out of the club and doesn’t see his friend anywhere. There’s no way Edward is that fast, but then again, maybe he’d had an escape vehicle ready.

Étienne curses, turning on himself trying to see if he can see a retreating figure in any direction, but he comes up empty. He feels like a fool and a small voice at the back of his head reminds him that this is why he tries stay clear from these places now, even though that’s its own kind of messed up. He should be allowed to do and go wherever he wants to without fearing for his job.

He’s about ready to call it quits, go back home and forget all about his night out, when from the corner of his eyes he spots a figure some ways ahead, walking away.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Étienne runs after his friend.

“Edward!”

Edward looks back and instead of slowing down, he picks up his speed.

“Tabarnak, wait!”

Somehow, miraculously, he finally manages to catch up to him and makes to grab at Edward’s shirt before his friend can dash away again.

“Jesus; you’re a speedy little fucker.” He gasps and wheezes, completely out of breath. He should start biking more frequently again. Or something. Clearly, he’s out of shape.

“Yeah well, comes from years of playing soccer.” Edward’s voice is cool and cagey, as if guarding himself, not that Étienne blames him really.

“And I played hockey through university and yet here I am.”

He takes a moment to try and calm his erratic beating heart before it jumps out of his ribcage and gives its own pursuit of Edward and only lets go of his shirt once he’s sure Edward isn’t going to start running again. He should quit smoking too. He knows that. He’s – working on that. But, anyways.

Edward watches him closely, any trace of his usual warmth gone from his face. He has his arms crossed over his chest and everything about his posture is closed off and defensive. Étienne needs to choose his words carefully but there are a dozen or so different ways he can approach this and he doesn’t know which will be best.

Even he has something to lose by telling Edward anything at all and isn’t that something. It frustrates him, really, because he’s never been one for closets and such. Yet, he knows that with the work he does it’s still sometimes taboo and he can’t know who’s safe and who isn’t.

He swallows, takes a deep breath and hopes he won’t be shooting himself in the foot. He likes Edward as a friend and would hate to lose him over such a silly little – misunderstanding, but he tries to console himself in the notion that if Edward had been at this particular club for whatever reason, then clearly, it must at the very least mean that he’s not a homophobe.

Or, he really hopes he’s not.

(He has a slew of other questions running through his head though, such as wasn’t Edward spending his summer in not Montréal with his partner? And if Edward had a long-term partner then what was he doing getting handsy with strangers at a club? But then again, maybe Edward had some type of open relationship with his partner. And really, Edward had never mentioned his partner’s name in the few times said partner had come up in conversation so what did that mean? When really, who the fuck was he to judge?)

He's still too sober for this and slightly too tipsy at the same time, even if the run after his friend has certainly made him more alert.

“Look – just, hear me out. People come to clubs for all sorts of reason, yeah?” He passes a hand through his hair and still itches for a cigarette. He’d offer one to Edward as well, since he sure looks like he could use one even if he’s been meaning to cut back and quit for good, current physical extortion proof enough.

“And maybe you’re here with friends – or a curiosity – or whatever, but I’m – I’m safe.” He tries to put emphasis on the word hoping Edward will get it without having to spell it out.

“I won’t say anything about you being here and I hope you won’t either.” His hands are flying all over the place, unsteady in his nervousness as if they’ve lost all tethers. He has no clue where he’s going with any of this or what he hopes to achieve with his words other than hoping Edward won’t freak out more.

“I mean, it would be really hypocritical of me to judge, or say something, since I came here since I’m – queer.” There is only the smallest of hesitations to his words and he holds his breath as he quietly observes his friend for a reaction, but Edward remains perfectly still, illuminated by golden streetlights that makes him look otherworldly – a creature from heaven sent down to pass judgement on his sins.

But then he blinks and Edward looks – relieved? Relieved and defeated? Surprised? It is hard to tell.

“You’re – queer?” Edward asks as if he needs confirmation and Étienne tries real hard not to be annoyed but nods nonetheless. “And you won’t – this – we can just?”

“Pretend it was a silly little misunderstanding or such and laugh it off privately? Absolutely.”

At this point, Étienne wants to move past this as quickly as he can and start breathing normally again. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt any sort of fear for his own safety and he remembers acutely why it is he hated it so much.

“Oh thank God.” Edward crumbles like a house of cards on the nearby bench and brings his hands to his face. He lets out a long-exhausted sounding groan. “Had I known it was you, I wouldn’t have – well, I would have kept my hands off you.”

Étienne tries not to think his friend means it that he found him repulsive and shrugs, fishing out that long needed cigarette from his back pocket before sitting beside Edward. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you knew.”

“Still… I’m sorry and I’m glad.”

They sit in silence for a moment and Étienne finally lights his cigarette. He takes a gluttonous puff and lets the familiar taste of nicotine still his frayed nerves. He’s glad Edward hasn’t thrown slurs at him, but there’s still an edge of something crawling under his skin and he has no idea if it’s left over adrenaline from his run, the near fight-or-flight anxiety from the reveal or his previous thoughts of having a little fun with a stranger.

“For the record, I’m also queer. Well, gay.” Edward admits quietly, a private confession, his gaze fixed on his hands, what feels like ages later.

Étienne’s not sure he’s heard correctly at first, but he doesn’t ask for clarification. By the looks of it, saying it once has taken its toll on his friend.

“So your partner…” He starts instead, unable to shut up his incessant curiosity.

“Was a man.”

He’s about to nod until his brain registers on the verb tense Edward’s just used.

“Was? Shit – did something happen? Fuck, I’m sorry.” He’s not sure if he’s meant to offer a sympathetic gesture or what exactly happened, but things are starting to piece themselves together in this eclectic mosaic of a night.

“He – well, he broke up with me. After five years. It’s why I came here.”

Edward says it so very calmly and seems so very detached from all of it that at first Étienne thinks he’s mostly fine with it, until he notices that Edward’s hands have formed fists on his thighs and that they’re shaking slightly.

He has so many other questions buzzing in his mind now, but he tries his best to remain supportive without infringing on his friend’s privacy.

However, in his honest opinion, it’s clearly What’s-It’s loss. It’s – well, Edward is a handsome fellow and even though Étienne hasn’t said or done anything about it, because Edward was with someone, and since he didn’t know if his friend would be interested, he can still admit it to himself that he likes Edward. As a friend. As a human being. As someone he wouldn’t have minded bringing back home. But – it’s not here nor there for now.

Étienne stubs out his cigarette for now and puts a cautious hand on Edward’s shoulder. He’s relieved when Edward doesn’t flinch or shrug him off.

“That sounds like a really shit thing to happen.” He finally says. It makes Edward laugh even if it’s mostly pained and a little manic.

“That’s putting it lightly. We were supposed to go on vacation together. Then, a week before we were going to leave, he told me he couldn’t do this anymore. I was completely blindsided. He left. Like that. And I – I went back home. To Edmonton. I couldn’t go on a vacation that was meant for the both of us and the idea of staying in the place we lived together was too much. It’s still too much. It’s why I came out tonight. I just wanted – to feel something.”

Edward sounds a little lost and still very sad. It’s understandable, he supposes, and he wishes there was something concrete he could do to make him feel better.

“If you need anyone to help you burn something down, call me.” He offers. It’s not his strongest, but it does make Edward grin and he takes his win where he can.

Another silence falls on them and Étienne lights himself another cigarette for a lack of something to do. He can start seriously thinking of quitting tomorrow.

He takes another one out and offers it to Edward who accepts after a moment. They smoke quietly, the actions and confessions of the night permeating the air around them. It’s not necessarily heavy, but it does have a certain weight of change to the atmosphere. Now they know each other’s bigger secrets and that – transforms a relationship.

“I’m sorry I ruined your evening,” Edward says once their cigarettes have been smoked and discarded. He gives him an apologetic smile that’s shy around the edges and a little embarrassed. “I’m sure you hadn’t planned on hearing the sad state of affairs of a friend’s love life.”

“No, but I’m glad you ran into me and that you trusted me enough to tell me what happened.” He means it really. He wouldn’t have minded getting laid, obviously, but he can do that on any old evening. Being there for his friend is different.

Edward shrugs as if wanting to dismiss what he’s just said, but Étienne needs to reassure him that he won’t hold this against him.

“And honestly, no harm done for earlier, okay? If anything, I think it’s funny. It’ll be our own little private inside joke. I’m your friend, I don’t plan on making your life a living hell and I really hope that’s not your intention either…”

Edward shakes his head vigorously, “No – same here – and thanks, really, for being so cool about, well, everything.”

Étienne smiles and claps him on the shoulder. They’re part of the same community; it would be really daft of him to turn his back on a friend and on one of his own. Plus, if it means that he’s that much less alone at work, then so be it. At least, he now knows he has someone he can go to and be just this more authentic around.

They talk some more – about this that and everything in between. It’s quiet at this time in the park and the night, if nothing else, is perfect; the sky is clear, it’s still pleasantly warm and it’s not too humid yet. When Edward starts yawning, Étienne suggests he walk him home and Edward agrees with little fuss. They take their time though and Étienne lets his friend talk, glad to listen.

“What other exciting plans do you have for the end of the summer?” Étienne asks once they reach Edward’s doorstep. He wonders, briefly, if one of the reasons Edward never invited him inside before was because he was afraid of him finding out about his boyfriend. Maybe this time – or in the upcoming future, he’ll be able to come in and Edward won’t have to hide anything from him anymore.

“I don’t know – can you believe this is the first time that I’m actually in town for some part of the summer?” Edward admits sheepishly and Étienne nearly stumbles on the stairs. It would certainly leave quite the impression if he fell face first in Edward’s stairs, but the shock of the news is enough to nearly make it worthwhile.

“You’re joking.” He says to be sure he hasn’t hallucinated anything. He’s quite sure he’s more sober than not and he has it on good authority that he hasn’t taken anything else since leaving the club – but, clearly, he’s heard wrong.

Edward gives him a sheepish shrug as a reward and scratches at the back of his neck. “No? I was – well always away, somewhere…”

“Oh my God, Édouard.” He grabs his friend by the shoulders and tries not to shake him too much and looks him straight in the eyes. “I must show you all the things.”

There may be a smidge of fear in Edward’s face but Étienne thinks it’s a good thing. No one should live in the city this long and have never enjoyed its summer. It’s a tragedy, really.

“I’ll make a list of places and a schedule. We can start tomorrow.” He takes out his phone and starts typing away at full speed, jotting things down that come to his mind, not trusting himself to do it later.

“Please, you don’t have to go through all that trouble – forget I said anything!”

Edward looks – well, surprised and a little shocked, but Étienne is quick to dismiss him with one hand as he makes another note on his phone. “Nonsense. This is a high offence and I will make sure to rectify it before it goes on any longer.”

“Well, if you insist…”

He does, really, and so he jots down a few more things before sending it off to Edward. “You can start by looking at what I’ve sent you and see if there’s anything that you’d like to do first. We’ll work our way through it and whatever we don’t hit we can do in the fall.”

Edward takes a moment and opens the document, most likely to make sure he can read it and then pockets his phone. “I’m both frightened and amazed by the speed at which you made this already quite thorough list.”

He grins, self satisfied and pleased, “It’s a gift.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you rest your magic then. Thank you again, really, for – everything tonight and for walking me home.”

“Any time.”

Edward steps up to him and opens his arms for a hug that Étienne is more than happy to give.

He realises then and there that Edward’s hugs are soft and that if he’s not careful, he’ll want more. He knows he should step back before he lingers too much, but he indulges for now. He likes the feel of Edward’s arms around his back and the warmth of his body against his own.

Logically, Étienne is aware that maybe it all comes down to his silly crush he has on his friend or the fact that he hasn’t been with someone in a while. It also might not help that it’s quite late and that he’s had a bit too much to drink, but he’s also always enjoyed living a little bit dangerously, and ever the glutton for punishment, he dares to inch his face this much closer to the fold of Edward’s shirt so that he can let his scent wrap around him for just a second longer.

Edward’s ex is the biggest loser for letting him go, really.

Somehow, he manages to pull away before it gets too awkward. He makes the mistake of sparing Edward a look and his breath stills for just a second. Edward’s even prettier up close and the urge to hold him again or caress his face is quite strong. He tries to think of some platitude he can say, but his words completely fail him and instead he’s pulled in by Edward’s lovely eyes.

Maybe, he thinks, it’s leftover pent up whatever from before that’s making it hard to look away. Maybe, he tells himself, it’s the fact that he’d gone out with a specific goal in mind and it’s ruminating in his body. Or – maybe, he rationalises, he’s been harbouring this thing for Edward for months now and it would be so very easy, so very convenient to just – lean in and – kiss him.

And maybe – just maybe – Edward feels partially the same – or it’s the atmosphere that’s charged – or something, because Edward maybe – just maybe – meets him halfway before they both hover, milometers apart, suspended for a singular breath, before – and it’s hard to say who finally goes for it first – they connect.

It’s soft and delicate at first, as if they’re both this side of tentative and unsure. Étienne dares to cup a hand on Edward’s cheek and it’s only when Edward reciprocates by grabbing him by the front of his shirt that Étienne throws caution to the wind and completely goes for it, matching Edward’s sense of need and potential desperation.

It gets messy and heady and he yields under Edward’s kisses, feeling warm and hot all over. He grabs at Edward’s body with eager hands and presses forward for more and more, greedy bastard that he’s always been, pleased and thrilled that Edward wants just as much.

It’s the club all over again, but this time he backs Edward against his door and the gasp Edward lets out is better than any music he’s heard all night.

They make out, pure and simple. Étienne’s thrilled by the throaty little moans Edward keeps producing and the friction happening between their bodies is delicious.

“We should continue this inside,” Edward whispers in his ear, sending a wave of pleasure through his body.

He nods and quietly laughs while Edward fumbles with his door, until finally, they’re on the other side of it where it’s nice and cool.

They make it a few paces in when the blast of cool air seems to sober him up and make him realise exactly what it is he’s doing. Or, more importantly, who it is he’s doing it with.

“My bedroom’s this way.”

Étienne should have been ecstatic. He should have followed Edward without second thought. Or, at the very least, maybe gotten on his knees to offer Edward a blowjob, but instead, his stupid conscious decides to rear its ugly head at the worst of times.

Way to be grown up and mature about all of this…

(And really, he’s surprised he still has one after all these years, but that’s a retrospection for some other time.)

He pauses long enough for Edward to notice and suddenly look worried.

“Actually,” He starts a little sheepish as he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at a curl out of nervous habit, “And I’m so going to regret this later,” He lets out a great big sigh followed by a nervous laugh.

He’s about to fuck this up, isn’t he?

Leave it to him to ruin things one way or another…

“I think – maybe we shouldn’t.”

Étienne knows how bad that sounds and he knows it’s the absolute last thing anyone wants to hear given this set of specific circumstances, and yet, he goes on even though he’s already mentally kicking himself.

If the first silence had been bad, this one is even heavier and if possible, worse.

“Oh God,” Edward starts saying, nearly leaping away from him as if wanting to put as much physical distance between the both of them. “I’m so sorry – I got carried away.” Edward’s already turned embarrassed, if he’s to judge by the flush on his cheeks that has gone from turned on to mortified.

“No – it’s look – I know this sounds completely deranged, but,” He takes a deep breath. He needs to attempt to save this, somehow or other. He needs Edward to realise that it’s really not him and that he’s lovely and great and under a different set of circumstances, this conversation would have never happened and they’d already be in Edward’s room with less clothes on and even less distance between them.

But, even in his head it sounds bizarre and he’s not quite sure why he’s chosen this ground to run on.

“I like you.” Étienne figures he may as well come out and say it now. Hell, it’s been a night of confessions so what’s one more? Maybe it’ll reassure Edward. “But I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” He adds quickly before Edward can get any false hope. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning and have regrets and then avoid me at work. I like what we have and I don’t want it to get weird.”

There’s a part of his brain that tells him that this is weird, especially considering he’s never been one to turn down a very eager hot guy. Then again, he’s seldom gone and developed overlapping friendship and potential feelings for someone either. It had to happen now, obviously, because clearly the universe was out to get him personally and make his life that much more complicated.

“You’ve just broken up from a long relationship. I don’t want to be a rebound and then maybe lose you as a friend in the end…”

He tries to give Edward an apologetic look, but it’s hard to do when Edward hides his face in his hands.

“No – you’re right. I shouldn’t have – and I’m so sorry. I mean, we’re colleagues as well. There’s – logistics to it and – HR to think about.” Edward laughs nervously and tries to put even more distance between them as he can, it seems, “I totally – I’m just going to – actually, if you could see yourself out and then I’ll just – dig a hole to burry myself in and I’m sorry – please forget any of this ever happened. You never have to see me again.”

Étienne thinks it’s endearing how red Edward’s gotten and how he’s taken refuge in the safety of his hands. He never thought he’d find such a thing sweet, but he blames it on the booze and the overall night. Never in his life would he have thought this could have been possible. And yet, here he is, trying to console his friend who had been quite willing to bring him to bed.

He laughs softly and tries to reach out for Edward’s elbow to get his attention and stop him babbling nonsense.

“No; I promised to show you around town.”

Edward does what Étienne calls distressed baby whale noises and it only makes him fonder. Sure, there would be HR to think about and other logistics, but they’re so far away from that and it is, currently, the last think on his mind.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Edward bemoans, but he does look away from his hiding spot in his hands and Étienne takes it as a small win.

“I’m serious. In fact, how about brunch tomorrow – well later?”

“You really don’t have to.”

There’s an edge of polite rebuttal to Edward’s words, but Étienne ignores him and takes out his phone to look up a place he has in mind. “I can pick you up at 11.” He puts the phone back in his pocket and leans back against the wall, trying to look defiant to see if Edward will challenge him again.

“You’re not letting this go, are you?” Edward finally asks. He lets out a great big sigh of someone who’s come to the terrible realisation that they’ve lost at an argument.

Étienne’s grin is wide. He’s been known to get his way here and there and he has it on good authority that he can be quite persuasive when he wants to, “Nope.”

Edward rolls his eyes, but Étienne knows it means that his friend is only mildly annoyed at him and not that he’s completely cross. If anything, it also means Edward is momentarily less distressed and that’s a step in the proper direction.

“Alright, fine, you can take me to brunch tomorrow. Happy?” He sounds a smidge resigned, but also a tad – hopeful. Or so Étienne thinks. He’ll take the interpretation, anyways.

“Absolutely.” Étienne is far too pleased with himself and if it shows on his face Edward doesn’t comment on it, instead choosing to walk him back to the front door where they dither there for a moment or two.

“You better not bail on me tomorrow, Murphy. I know where you live now.”

“Don’t worry – I won’t skip town.”

Étienne reaches for the door, ready to step out and leave with one last joke, but then he hesitates for a moment, his mind playing catch up with everything that’s just happened. He looks back at Edward and reads the same hesitancy on his friend’s face. Edward looks as unsure as he suddenly feels and maybe it’s this shared common feeling that pushes Étienne to change his closing remark for something a little more sincere.

“You know – if ever you’re still interested – after you’ve given yourself some time to heal, hit me up, yeah? I wouldn’t mind seeing where this could go.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Maisonneuve?”

Étienne laughs at Edward, before he opens the door. “Whatever you want it to. Don’t forget – brunch tomorrow. Sleep well!”

He’s gone with a wink before Edward can call him back and before he starts overthinking that he’s just said too much. Instead, he nearly skips down the stairs and then heads back towards his own place. He meant what he’s said; he likes Edward and he really wouldn’t mind, given better circumstances. He takes out another cigarette for good measure, lights it up, and focuses instead of what else they can do tomorrow after their brunch.

He has a good feeling that things will work out in their own way.

FIN

August 17th 2024 4h08pm

#pc: montreal #étienne maisonneuve #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #fic #teacher au

2 notes · View notes

evilminji · 1 year ago

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Coming back and doubling down, actually? I really wanna see? As the story progresses? And the Greco-Roman Gods are just... Like That(tm) to their kids and everyone else? Percy getting progressively more and more "...on THAT note, you know who WOULDN'T pull This Shit(tm)? *slaps down a 'The Celtic Gods And You' pamphlet'* I'm JUST SAYING. ADOPTION IS AN OPTION."

Like? Channel that feral energy Percy. Disown your Dad. Disown your ENTIRE extended paternal line. Kids leave crappy n toxic family situations all the time! Not saying it's EASY. But like?

Just because THESE assholes are the only ones who DIDNT agree to start being Hands Off with the humans to, presumably, stop tearing everything apart with Family Drama. Doesn't mean? You can't rock up to some Celtic temple or place of worship, some shinto shrine, and go "WAKE-Y WAKE-Y! I NEED AN ADULT! *bangs on the door*".

We already have PROOF the Egyptians have a pantheon!

They are not connected by Faith to the Greco-Roman's! Which means? Pick a Faith and start harrasing until you get a Respectable Adult(TM). Quest to find Responsibile Adoptive Parents. All you REALLY gotta do is be all "okay you gotta check out X and I'll look for Y, Percy? You go bother Sea Deity."

Then?

Let THEM yell at the Greek Gods.

Why is it PERCY'S job to say "hey! Stop being shitty to your kids and letting them DIE!" Why are creature even getting close enough that they HAVE too fight them? Yeah, maybe, if you were like? A great-great-GREAT-grandkid? But "my dad is A GOD"?

No???

Do YOU let wild animals into your nursery? Hunt your toddler for sport in the backyard? "Oh, we can't interfere" MY ASS. Yes you CAN! You just can't throw volcanos and obvious Divine Acts around! You "interfered" them into existence!

It's called a baby monitor!

A gaurd dog!

A pretty little GIANT FUCK OFF SIGN UPON THE SOUL that reads "Do Not." In your handwriting.

You let your kid grow up. You inform them of your Expectations. Do some parenting. And supermurder anything that touches them! Maybe your grand kids. Eventually you move on, as the bloodline becomes less You(TM).

Can't interfere MY ASS.

Sally should have been LIVING IN A HOUSE BOAT. A FANCY one. Paid for by Percy's father! Safe as can be, on the NICEST beach on the planet. Where his Domain was strongest. Percy growing up Suspiciously Beloved by local aquatic life. Fuckin attack dolphins and murder seals. Waves that WILL crush and drag you out too drown. All while Percy is just?

Doo dee doo~☆ Sure do love makin sandcastles! Man, I love living on the beach! Yay! Seashells!

But, nooooooooo! Certain God's can't and WON'T take responsibility, man up, a PARENT THEIR KIDS.

How dare you call yourself a Father. The other Gods are taking your kids. Go ahead and get mad about it. You might as well run off to that OTHER little city, of your OTHER CHILDREN, and hang around THERE until you inevitably "interfere" ANOTHER legion of children into existence. All of which you'll refuse to actually raise, no doubt.

*picks up the smol, feral, ocean child (along with his friends) and leaves.*

The lack of pagan Percy Jackson fics is downright criminal

Think about it. Sure there is the comedy of him being a Hellenistic pagan but what if he was literally any other kind of pagan.

Chiron: you are a demigod. The old gods abandoned by modern people are real.

Pagan Percy: old? Abandoned?

————————–—–—————————————–—

Chiron: and now we sacrifice some of our food to the gods

Celtic pagan Percy: oh! alight! I sacrifice this to Danu!

Chiron: not like that!

Danu the mother of the Irish gods: something just happened.

————————–—–—————————————–—

Annabeth: we need a god’s blessing to to do this!

Celtic pagan Percy: does it need to be a Greek god?

Annabeth: it was never specified.

Percy: *pulls out a candle and prays to Morrigan*

Morrigan the Celtic goddess of war: *shows up* yeah sure you have my blessing.

Percy: thank you lady Morrigan.

————————–—–—————————————–—

Jason: do you respect any gods?

Celtic pagan Percy: The only one in the Greco-Roman pantheon that I respect is Hestia

Jason: why did you specify Greco-Roman

Percy: I respect the Celtic gods

Jason: the what?!?

Percy: (:

Jason: D:

#percy jackson #and the Quest to get his ass divinely adopted #fuck you Dad #hes gonna get a step dad AND an adopted Dad #or mom #hes not picky #family POG!

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randomwritings29 · 2 years ago

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Dark City

It was a moonless night. Wisps of smoke and grey painted the darker than black sky. A short blinding light occasionally blinked across the sky as some daring, curious flight attempted to catch a glimpse of the mayhem blanketing the entire area, in every street, home, car. Sitting on the solid, ghoul-grey edge, as he blew out smoke from his cigarette, he looked out at the city. His city. The city they called the home of destruction, chaos, and anarchy.

Why stay here? Why remain in this disaster of a town? What could possibly compel you to live here? How about moving to someplace safe? All questions he had heard before. And he had only one response to every single one.

‘This is my home.’

His friends, family, even acquaintances were always baffled by this response. Yet it was the only one that made sense to him. This city had given him a home, a place of safety to rest. It had not once abandoned him, so why would he try to do so to it?

He blew out a plume of smoke.

Police sirens rushed to fill the silence as another crime took place on the street in front of him. A robbery it seemed like, from the broken glass and empty shelfs. He doubted that was the last of the crimes that would take place that night.

Enveloping the night air, screams rang out as a mother begged some common piece scoundrel to spare her children and kill her instead in the alley right below him. The father, like a coward, was hiding behind her. The children, like helpless toys, were crying. The man, like a cold stone, ignored their desperate cries.

He tilted his head, watching the scene play out in front of him. It seemed like the man would win and escape with his prize, but he knew that a mother’s love was never to be underestimated.

She steeped in front of her two children, pushing them to the back, and faced the gun pointed at her head without an ounce of fear. The father did nothing. The children were crying, begging the man to spare their mother.

He scoffed. Love like this still existed in the city after all, a relentless, unconditional love that would never be washed away by all the hate that filled every street, alley way, building in the city. It had preserved and remained despite all the attempts of the inhabitants to squash it.

A spark from his cigarette fell down the side of the grey – stoned building.

The sound of two quick gunshots hung in the air. One in the head for the foolish man who would attack innocent civilians who represented the good the city may still host. The other in the heart of the coward of a boy who had dared to call himself a father when he had done nothing to protect his family when they were in danger.

The mother rushed to her children, not a second after the shot, hugging them, consoling them. She tilted her head up, looking straight at him, as though she could see him, and he could have sworn a wave of a mixture of relief and gratitude filled her eyes. And then, in a blink of an eye, she was grabbing her children’s hands and running far, far away. She had not once looked at the dead corpse of the man that had once been her husband.

Another spark got carried away by the wind to the ground.

Interrupting his 'city watching', vibrations shook his pocket. Answering the phone, he heard ‘The shop’s dead empty boss. Nothing left to see there. The cops are swarming around so we all scattered but I can have the gang assembled and ready at the warehouse. What do you want us to do next, boss?’

‘What’s going on with Anderson’s team? And Jess’s? They haven’t checked in yet.’

‘I think they both are still on their jobs, boss. I haven’t heard in sirens in the West or East ends yet.’

He sighed.

‘So, what’s our next job boss? Don't tell me this is it? We’ve only hit 5 shops tonight.’

‘Get some large bags, scaling equipment and new guns from old Rockey. You're pairing up with Sarah's team. And then, you lot are going to steal every single cash note made today from the money house. And don’t even think of forgetting even one.’

‘Yes, Sir. We won’t disappoint. I’ll call you once we’re done and have Naomi keeping you updated on our progress.’

‘Oh, and Scully?’

‘Yes, boss?’

‘Make it quick. I have another job for you after this.’

‘No prob, Boss.’

Just as he closed that call, another pocket started vibrating.

‘Yes Janice?’

‘I just wanted to remind you that you have your dinner with the mayor in one hour and the charity gala after that. Your suit is ready for you at your mansion on fourth street and the limousine will be waiting for you at your doorstep.’

‘Alright. Thanks for the reminder.’

‘No problem, Sir’

Hanging up the call, he stood up on edge and tilted his head backwards. And laughed.

Why stay in this city?

Why leave this city? Would a lion ever leave his pride? Would an emperor ever leave his empire?

He controlled everything in this city. A single person could not take a breath without him knowing. Why would he ever leave all this power and control?

He smirked. The dark city was his to rule over. No one could say otherwise.

Squashing his cigarette like a bug, he disappeared into the night as flames covered the west end and screams drowned out the east.

The dark city was going to become a hell lot darker under his reign.

#writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writings #stories #tumblr stories #dark city #chaos #idk what else to add lol

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theshelbyclan · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the chaos, little one

Summary: Giving birth is never easy, especially when it’s a Shelby x Solomons baby…

A/N I’m so slow with requests but a while back the lovely @fandom-puffrequested: Omg sorry to be a pain but I’m a sucker for Shelby chaos 😭😭😭 can I request something linked to A Very Shelby Christmas where the labour of baby Solomons is just as chaotic? But it could also be sweet like the bros finally accepting Alfie bc they all care about YN so much and can’t stand to hear her in pain, all while YN is screaming that she’ll cut off more of Alfie’s dick than his rabbi would even dare to if he ever tried to bed her again 😭😭😭 omg the chaos 👉👈 ily 💓💓 Here we go! This is part 2 to the story A Very Shelby Christmas

Words: 1638

***

“Not now, Y/N,” Arthur groaned. Ada rolled her eyes, remembering keenly when her brother had spoken those iconic words before. “It’s not like I can help it, Arthur,” you spit.

Polly grabbed you by your arm as you doubled over again, “Alright, sweetheart, it’s time. Come with me…” “Not yet, Aunt Pol,” you panted, “It’s too early.” “The baby doesn’t have it’s own pocket watch yet,” Ada commented matter-of-factly, as she took your other arm. “Fuck!” you called out again as another contraction set in, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck!” “Nice.” “Oh, piss off John, you want to try this?” “Not really…” “Tommy!” you turned to the one family member who hadn’t said a word yet, “Get him.” “And who would that be, eh?” he replied in a low voice. “Thomas…” Aunt Polly warned softly. He raised his eyebrows, “Finn? You want Finn at the birth?” “WHY WOULD I WANT MY FUCKING BABY BROTHER HERE?!” Tommy waved a vague hand, “General comfort?” Now Aunt Polly’s eyes flashed with anger, “Thomas! Go get her husband, right now!” Tommy sighed deeply, still trying to ignore the fact that his little sister was now Mrs. Solomons, and said, “Come on boys, let’s get them all together and wet this baby’s head! Leave the women to it.” And you groaned, “Thank you…” Once Alfie would be here, everything would be easier.

*** “Solomons!” “No need to shout, mate, I’m right here, ain’t I?”

Slowly Tommy lit a cigarette and started smoking it, “It concerns my sister.” “You mean the glorious creature that made me the luckiest man on earth by marrying me? My wife? Mrs. Alfie Solomons?” A small twinkle appeared in Alfie’s eyes as he saw Tommy’s jaw tense up just a little at his words. “Yes.” “How is the old lady doing?” Alfie asked conversationally. “In pain,” Tommy replied, “She’s in labour, more to the point.” “You fucking what?” “She’s with her aunt Alfie, she’ll be fine.” Alfie blinked a few times, “Tommy I swear to God if you’re playing some fucking game with me I will shoot you between the eyes right here and now. You’re telling me my wife is in labour and you’re standing there casually smoking a cigarette, waiting for some fucking woman to tell you it’s done?” “Yes,” he nodded, “Well, I was about to go the Garrison. Thought we might bury the hatchet and you could join us.” “Have you lost your fucking mind…” Alfie said slowly, while rubbing his chin. Tommy cleared is throat and with a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice said, “It’s tradition.” “Well, if you’ll pardon my French, fuck your fucking heathen traditions, I’m going to my fucking wife and you are fucking coming with me. And bring your fucking family while you’re at it!”

*** “Why are we here?” John leaned in to Arthur slightly while asking the question in a hushed voice. “Alfie insisted.” “Why?” Arthur raised his voice, “Ask Tommy, alright? I don’t bloody know! I’m guessing it’s another Jewish thing…” On the other side of the door, you were most definitely in labour now. The pain was worse than anything you’d experienced before and you were seriously questioning your sanity at this point. “Aunt Pol?” Ada asked carefully after about an hour. Polly moved over from your side down to your legs and said, “What is it?” “Something’s wrong.” “THOMAS!” Polly bellowed as soon as she had taken a look, “Get me some more towels.”

“What’s happening?” A panicked Alfie asked from the hallway. But Polly pushed him aside and started ordering Finn to boil more water. “Woman!” he demanded, “You fucking tell me.” “She’s bleeding,” she answered quickly, “and I can’t see why.” “What can we do, Pol,” Arthur asked, wild-eyed. “Get a doctor. One we can trust.” Arthur dragged John with him, even before Polly had finished her sentence. “What about Sabini’s men?” John asked, “We were supposed to deal with them tonight. What if they come here?” “Shoot them,” Tommy said simply, as he lit another cigarette in a nervous manner. Inside the room, you were now screaming your head off. Of course you had realised giving birth would be painful, but not like this. The sight of Ada going slightly pale didn’t help either and panic had started mixing in with the general anxiety of the process, so your screams got louder and louder. “Pol…” Ada called out again, “What do I do?” In that moment, Alfie pushed passed her and fell down by your side, “I’m here,” he said softly. “I can see that,” you panted between shouts, “but why? You’re not supposed to be here.” “Out,” Aunt Polly said strictly, “This is no place for men.” And then Tommy walked in as well, averting his eyes and grabbing your hand at the same time. “What?” he said when Polly send him a death-glare, “If Alfie gets to stay, so can I!” “Fucking children…” “Alright, sweetheart,” Polly focused on you again, “This baby needs to come now.” Your eyes grew wide, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” Alfie replied for her, “You’ll be fine. You’re doing brilliant, babes.” “How the fuck would you know!” you shouted out. He shrugged, “Educated guess?” “Had a lot of experience with this, eh?” Tommy grumbled sarcastically. “This,” Ada pointed at the both of them, “This is why men shouldn’t be in here.” “I’m not fucking going anywhere, especially if my wife is in danger.” Tommy just shook his head in reply. “Danger?” you asked suddenly, “What does he mean in danger?” “No danger, love,” Ada soothed you, “if you just push.” And so you pushed, with every bit of strength you had in you. But then a gunshot sounded outside, followed rapidly by another two. Everyone looked up. “John,” Tommy clarified with a single word. “You’re being awfully cavalier about baby brother John getting shot there, Tommy…” Alfie commented. Tommy looked at Alfie with a frown that spoke volumes, “John just shot Sabini’s men. I told him to.” “Oh, good. Saves me the bloody trip.” “I can see some hair!” Ada called out suddenly. “What colour?” Alfie replied at once. And John stuck his head around the corner of the door, “Took care of them.” “We heard,” Aunt Polly grumbled. He hopped from one foot onto the other uncertainly, “Anything else I can do?” “Yeah, you can fuck off mate!” “Alright, I’ll stay, since you asked so nicely.” “John, just get the fuck out!” your sister shouted. The birth was chaos enough as it was and now all these boys were only adding to it instead of helping. And on top of it all, Finn stumbled in practically falling over his own feet with a bucket of water, splashing Aunt Polly in the process. This was more like a madhouse than a family occasion. But John pointed at Alfie indignantly, “He gets to stay!” “Push, Y/N,” Polly urged again, and so you did. “Nice one,” John laughed at Finn, “you literally had one job, mate.” “Mrs. Gray?” Alfie asked carefully, “Sorry to interrupt you there, alright, but I just wanted to quickly check, because you mentioned the hair, yeah? What colour? Because I’m sure I’ll love my son all the same if he’s blond, but I might just need to mentally prepare myself…” And then you finally burst out in anger, “Can you all just shut the fuck up for a second! I’m actually trying to have a fucking baby here!!” “Right, sorry about that love,” Alfie moved closer to you and grabbed your hand again, “Please continue. You’re doing brilliantly, even if he is blond…” Tommy chuckled lightly in the background, which made you even more angry somehow, “Alfie, I swear to God or Adonai or whatever you want to call him, do nottouch me again because remember how you said you couldn’t remember your circumcision?”

“Yes,” Alfie mumbled in mortal fear.

“You will remember when I do it. Remember how you told me of your rabbi doing it when boys are eight days old, because then it heals faster?”

“Yes...” he gulped.

“I’ll make it slow sweetheart. Really fucking slow.”

“Right,” he said with big eyes, “What exactly would you have me do then except for just standing here like some great big bloody useless piece of shit?”

“Shut up!”

“Noted.” *** You weren’t sure what had happened exactly in that last hour. Apparently you’d lost a lot of blood and things had gotten hazy very quickly. Ada and Aunt Polly had stopped talking altogether and they had managed to save you, despite the bickering men in the background. You did remember that Alfie and Arthur had gotten into a fight at one point, but apparently they managed to resolve it quickly when the doctor arrived and they took turns in beating him up because he was no longer needed. Anger really does bring people together.

Of course, none of that really mattered now, because you were now holding a perfect baby right there, in your arms. Finn just stared at the baby, completely in awe. “Not blond…” John sounded a little disappointed. Arthur grinned, “But bloody perfect.” “Gorgeous, just like the mother,” Polly hugged you carefully. “Shelby good looks.” Tommy nodded slowly, with a sense of pride in his voice. “Any names yet?” Ada asked, “I bet you’ve picked them out ages ago, haven’t you?” “I have,” you smiled, “but couldn’t say them out loud yet, so we didn’t really discuss it. It’s bad luck.”

Uncharacteristically, Alfie hadn’t said a word yet.

“Mr. Solomons?” you said, gazing up from your one love to the other, “I believe you have a daughter.” And finally he smiled, deeply and incredibly in love as he held her tight with both hands. And in the most tender way possible he looked at you, grinned and said, “Fucking hell!”

***

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viastro · 4 years ago

Text

catch me | lee jihoon

ミ★ synopsis: jihoon didn’t want any weaknesses, he couldn’t afford to have any. that’s why he ended your guys friendship. he couldn’t risk your life because of how dangerous his lifestyle is, but everything seems to crumble the moment he saves you for the first time.

ミ★ genre: best friends to strangers to lovers!au (kinda?), spiderman!woozi, action, angst, some suspense, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: since this is a superhero au, there will be violence in this oneshot as well as the mentions of some weapons (knives and guns). some suggestive jokes, minor character death

ミ★ word count: 13,787

ミ★ pairings: woozi x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! sorry this is so late, but here’s my 2,000 follower celebratory oneshot <33 i remembered how much you guys liked my spiderman!joshua oneshot, so i decided to write another one. i’d like to thank @thepixelelf for giving me the idea to make spiderman!woozi <33 i’m not very good at writing fighting scenes ?? and i feel like more could’ve been done, but this is the best i can do with my busy schedule ! sorry if it’s not up to par </333 this shit is long as fuck though holy shit why do i write so much helPBJEKSBRGKD anyways, make sure to give woozi lots of love ! thank you for 2,000 followers again, i’m so grateful to you all.

“You’ll never catch me!” You squeal, running around the playset as fast as your small legs will allow it. The similar sound of other children laughing and screaming from joy just by being at the playground ring in your ears. You turn back to see if your best friend is close behind you, only to let out a scream when you see him close enough to tag you.

“Uji! Go away!” You say with a laugh as you run under the slide, moving to sprint up the stairs. You’re only stopped once you feel Jihoon’s small hand grab onto your wrist, and you let out a whine. Turning your head, you see Jihoon standing behind you with a toothless smile.

“I caught you, yn! I’ll always catch you, remember? You have to tag me now, we only have time for one more game because it looks like our moms are tired.” You pout at him, and he giggles, reaching out and patting down the flyaways of your hair.

“But I hate being the tagger.” You whine, looking down at the ground to try and appeal to your best friend. Jihoon only smiles, shaking his head at you as he releases your hand from his grasp. He motions for you to cover your eyes, and you let out a sigh, before nodding your head.

“Count to ten. Okay, yn?” Jihoon asks you, and you find your lips morphing into a smile, nodding your head. You raise your hands up to your eyes, and Jihoon immediately begins to find a hiding spot. He turns his head to glance back at you as he runs, smiling when he hears you call out:

“One!”

You gasp awake, staring up at your dark ceiling. Your bedroom is silent, except for the quiet sound of your humidifier, a stark difference to that of the squeals from the playground. You roll over with a groan, reaching out and checking the time on your phone, just to let out a tired sigh.

“Six in the morning? I don’t need to be awake until nine.” You whine, raising your hands up to cover your face. The remaining bittersweet feeling from the dream slowly drifts away as you feel your fatigue begin to take over.

Before you drift off completely, you find yourself hoping that you’ll fall into the same dream again. For it’s the only place where you can speak to your ex-best friend, Lee Jihoon.

“Woozi, we have a quiz today! I can’t keep saving your ass from the professor.” Seungcheol says in exasperation as he attempts to keep up with his friend, internally wondering why no matter how hard he tries to match Jihoon’s pace, he’s unable to.

“Well you have to if you still want my mom’s kimchi! Please, I’ll make it up to you. Something came-”

“Something came up, I know, I know. Just text me when you get back to your apartment, okay? I’ll give you my notes later.” Jihoon quickly turns back to glance at his friend, letting out a grateful smile and nodding his head.

“Of course! I’ll see you later, Cheol.” Jihoon calls out in response, hurrying towards the exit of the university. Seungcheol just watches until that black head of hair disappears, before sighing and walking in the direction of their building.

“Gonna make him buy me bbq this time, I swear to God.”

You tiredly enter the bank, needing to deposit cash from your recent tutoring job. Holding back a yawn, you walk over to the shortest line and step behind the last person. You pull out your phone and scroll through Twitter, beginning to question why you haven’t asked the parents if they could just pay you through Venmo.

“Open the vault if you don’t want a bullet in your head!” Your eyes widen when you hear the loud voice boom in front of you. Glancing around, your heart falls into your stomach when you see a few of the other people who you presumed were also waiting to be helped by an employee, are now holding guns up towards innocent people.

Your thumb moves on its own across your phone screen to call the police, but the cold sound of a click next to your ear makes you freeze. You don’t dare to move, staying frozen as you watch the other gunmen shove the innocent employees of the bank towards the corner.

“I suggest you give me your phone and go join them if you don’t want your head blown to bits.” The man behind the gun says to you. Biting the inside of your cheek, you slowly move your phone in his direction, and he snatches it out of your hand. He nudges you with the butt of the gun, and you quickly make your way to the other people, sitting down beside one elderly man on the floor.

“We’ll need to take all of your phones. For our safety, of course. I suppose for yours too, considering that if you call the cops then we’d have to kill you.” The man who pressed the gun against your head says with a smile, and you watch as everyone slowly reaches into their pockets or purses and holds it out. You presume he’s the leader when the other people in the group take the electronic devices and throw them into a box they stole.

You look down at your trembling hands, intertwining your fingers together in an attempt to stop them from shaking, but to no avail. You sit in silence as you listen to the robbers discuss when their ride will get here, wondering how cold hearted they must be to not even care.

“Someone. Please help us.” You quietly plead, feeling the elderly man begin to shake beside you as he holds back his own tears.

“I don’t think that money belongs to you.” Your ears perk up at the sudden voice, looking up when you hear the sound of the front doors close. Your eyes widen when you see the familiar dark red and blue suited figure, the one you’ve seen on the news.

“Spiderman.” You mutter, watching as the gunmen all turn towards him, guns aimed at the superhero’s head. The presumed leader of the group tilts his head with a laugh, still holding the backpack full of money in his hand.

“And who are you to decide that?” The man asks, lazily switching off the safety of his gun as he holds it in Spiderman’s direction. You watch as the superhero shrugs his shoulders, looking like the definition of ease as he leans against the wall.

“I pay my taxes.” Spiderman responds, and you bite back a laugh when you notice the twitch to the leader’s eye. The amusement almost immediately turns into fear when you watch the leader’s finger press on the trigger, and you unconsciously reach out towards the superhero.

Everything moves faster than you can imagine.

Within seconds Spiderman has the leader’s hand trapped onto the wall with the spiderweb, and knocked the guns out of half of the robbers hands. You watch as he fights with a few of the other guys, and you hold back a scream when you hear the sound of a gun go off. Your eyes widen when you see one of the men fall to the ground, blood pooling around him. Your gaze trails over towards the leader, seeing him staring at the body with an indecipherable look on his face.

“We have to go while they’re distracted, come on.” You turn your head away from the sight and look up at the elderly man, watching as he holds his hand out towards you. You look around and see the other hostages speeding towards the exit, knowing that the superhero gave them the signal to run.

You nod your head, reaching out and grabbing the elderly man’s hand. The two of you quickly walk towards the doors, the sound of grunts and fighting being heard from behind you. You’re about to reach the exit when you’re yanked backwards by the collar of your shirt, choking you in the process as an arm wraps around your neck.

You almost let out a scream until you feel the familiar feeling of cool metal being placed on your temple, and your body immediately turns rigid in the hold of your captor. You flinch when you hear him whistle beside you, gaining the attention of the superhero.

“Spiderboy! I suggest you don’t make any move to come closer unless you want a bullet in their head.” The familiar voice of the leader rings in your ear, and you clench your fist at your side. You take notice of the fact that Spiderman freezes the moment he looks in your direction, and you blink back tears when the head of the gun is pressed harder against your temple.

“So you do listen to commands when someone’s life is at stake, good to know.” The man says, and Spiderman just stands there, staring at the two of you as the rest of the robbers lay on the floor. Either knocked out or held in place by the strong web that was shot at them.

“Let them go.” Spiderman seethes, and your captor simply laughs, causing you to flinch. He tightens the grip he has around your neck, and you let out a squeak, causing the superhero to take a step forward.

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t want to lose an innocent life today, don’t we?” Spiderman halts his movements when the man turns off the safety of the gun. The tears slip past your eyes from the sound, and you look at the superhero, silently begging him for help.

Spiderman tightens his fist at his side from the sight of your tears, before tearing his gaze away from you and looking at your captor. “What do you want?”

“Let my men and I-”

“Me and a few of my men.” The captor pauses, tilting his head at the superhero, wondering if Spiderman really just corrected him on his grammar in this situation. You even have to hold back a snort, which is an odd thing to do considering that you’re on the verge of losing your life if you make one wrong move.

“Let me and a few of my men take a few bags of money and go. I’ll let this,” Noticing the red and blue flashing lights coming through the windows, the man wiggles his arm around your neck a bit, constricting your airway as you let out a gasp for air. “This civilian, go.”

The two stare each other down for a bit, before Spiderman loosens his fist, nodding his head. Your eyes widen at the superhero willing to protect your life by letting the money be stolen. Your captor lets out a chuckle, before releasing his hold on your neck. You immediately fall to your knees, gasping for air as the tears fall from your eyes onto the tiled floor.

“No funny business, Spidey.” The leader says, grabbing two backpacks full of money and nudging a few of the guys until they wake up. Spiderman doesn’t respond, instead rushing over to you and grasping your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you badly?” The superhero asks in concern as he checks over your features, but you don’t respond. Instead you stare at him in silence, suddenly wondering why his voice sounds so familiar, and why he’s holding your face so tenderly.

“Who are yo-”

“Oh! Spiderboy.” The two of you glance over towards the leader and a few of his men, now holding quite a few bags full of stolen money. Your eyes widen when he raises the gun in your direction, and Spiderman sharply inhales when he realizes what’s about to happen.

“Never trust a conman.” The leader states, before pulling the trigger.

The loud echo of the gunshot rings around the room, along with the sound of the doors opening and closing as the robbers try to escape. Your eyes slowly open when you don’t feel any pain, and you realize that you’re being held in the arms of Spiderman, hanging high from the ceiling.

He slowly lowers you both back to the floor, and he lets you go as soon as your feet touch the tile. You slide down onto your knees, feeling dazed as to what just occurred.

“Don’t get yourself into trouble again.” Spiderman says in a soft tone, and you slowly look up at him. The two of you stare at each other in silence, and you wonder if he’s always this worried about other people he saves.

You open your mouth to respond, only for the doors to slam open. You freeze, fear crawling up your throat at the thought that it may be the robbers, only to relax when you see the police and FBI enter, already beginning to make arrests.

“Are you okay? Someone get this person a blanket!” An FBI agent orders once they walk up to you. They help you up off the floor, and you turn your head to look for the red and blue suited superhero, only to see that he’s disappeared without a trace.

“Thank you, Spiderman.” You mumble, before getting escorted out of the bank.

“Fuck.” Jihoon cries as he limps towards Seungcheol’s apartment, hand clutching onto his thigh in an attempt to stop the bleeding. As soon as he left the bank, he realized he didn’t leave unscathed as he flew through the city. He changed once he got to the alley where he put his stuff, and made his way to Seungcheol’s.

Once Jihoon reaches the door, he immediately slams his fist onto it, desperately needing his friend to help him. “Woozi, I already told you how my neighbors feel about you banging on my front door.” Seungcheol says with a grin as he opens the door, having not looked up at his friend yet. It’s only when Jihoon practically crumbles onto the door frame that Seungcheol realizes the state he’s in, and he immediately pulls him inside.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Seungcheol asks as he practically carries Jihoon into the bathroom, placing him onto the toilet. The blonde scrambles through his drawers, searching for the first aid kit. While Jihoon just grimaces in pain, rolling up his pants with a shaky leg to reveal the gunshot wound on his thigh. Seungcheol’s eyes widen, the first aid kit falling from his hands at the sight.

“You got shot?!” Seungcheol hisses, and Jihoon just lets out a tired laugh, beginning to feel a bit faint.

“I’ll explain later, but I can’t go to the hospital. I know you’re only an intern right now, but you’re the only one I trust. Please.” Jihoon pleads, and Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek harshly, before nodding his head.

“I swear to God if you’re a drug dealer Jihoon-”

“I’m not a drug dealer, you fucking buffoon.”

“Oh my God.” Jihoon quietly eats the instant rice, letting Seungcheol go through the five stages of shock. He glances over at the blonde, finding him still staring down at the table with wide eyes.

“My best friend is Spiderman.” Seungcheol mutters, his hands going up and gripping his own hair as his eyes widen even more. Jihoon nods his head, reaching over and taking some kimchi, placing it into his mouth.

“That’s why he always left class at the most random times.” Seungcheol whispers, hands trailing down to cup his cheeks as all the pieces begin to come together. Jihoon continues to eat in silence as he lets his friend go through an existential crisis. He glances down at the stitches on his thigh, before looking back up at Seungcheol from across the table.

“Thank you for stitching me up. The hospital would’ve asked a lot of questions and I couldn’t afford that.” Jihoon says, placing the empty bowl of rice on the table. Seungcheol finally looks up at his friend, and he runs a hand through his hair.

“Is that why you suddenly got really strong in high school?” Seungcheol asks, completely missing the fact that Jihoon just thanked him. The black haired beauty nods his head in response, taking a sip of water.

“Got bit by a weird spider on that field trip in junior year, and suddenly my hands were sticky and I could break sinks easily. It was a strange moment in my life.” Jihoon answers, and Seungcheol runs his hand through his hair again. Jihoon rolls his eyes, reaching out and slapping the blonde’s hand, making Seungcheol yelp.

“You’re gonna go bald if you keep pulling your hair like that.” Seungcheol frowns, before leaning back in his seat and letting out a sigh. He glances over at Jihoon and raises an eyebrow when he finds him with a furrow to his brow.

“Now you’re the one who looks like you’re going through an existential crisis. What’s on your mind?” Jihoon looks up from the table to find Seungcheol staring at him in concern, and he lets out a breath. Jihoon takes another sip of his water, before pursing his lips.

“Yn was one of the hostages at the bank robbery today.” Seungcheol’s eyes widen at the mention of your name, having not heard Jihoon utter it since your guys’ falling out in high school. “I don’t know why the fuck the guy chose them to get to me, but he did.”

“Is yn okay?” Seungcheol asks, and Jihoon nods his head. He looks off to the side, remembering the frantic look in your eyes as tears trailed down your cheeks. Biting his bottom lip, he stands up from the table and limps over to the couch.

“Woozi.”

“Yn’s fine, Cheol. I made sure of it. The stupid guys all got caught by the police and FBI outside anyways, I saw the blue and red lights. It’s the only reason I let them go. They can’t get to yn either, they don’t know shit about us.” Jihoon says with a sense of finality, laying down onto the couch and closing his eyes. Seungcheol nods his head, knowing better than to push his friend for more answers.

“Spiderman doesn’t have any weaknesses that the public knows of. Yn’s safe.” Jihoon adds, soon falling asleep while clutching the throw pillow on his side. Seungcheol looks down at the table, wondering if Jihoon is saying that with confidence,

Or in an attempt to convince himself.

You walk to your next class on campus, feeling self conscious from everyone’s stares as you do so. Reaching into your pocket, you turn up the volume on your earbuds, trying to block out everyone’s whispers.

Everyone on campus knows of what occurred at the bank, and you’ve become a hot topic since you were saved by your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. The thought of his voice still lingers in your head, and the feeling of his hands cupping your face remains even if it’s been a week since the incident.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look down at the ground as you walk, attempting to pick up the pace so that you can get a seat in the back row of the auditorium. You’ve always been clumsy though, as you soon find yourself accidentally slamming into the shoulder of someone walking past you, making the person drop their books behind you.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, quickly pulling out your earbuds and bending down to pick up all the textbooks that fell onto the ground. Once you’ve grabbed all the books, you glance up, only to freeze when you look into those familiar brown eyes. Slowly you stand up from the ground, books in your arms as you and Jihoon stare at each other in silence, unsaid words being exchanged through your gazes.

“Jihoo-” The black haired beauty takes the books out of your grasp, and simply nods his head at you.

“Thanks.” He mutters, before continuing on with his day, not another word or glance back at you as he does so. Your eyes trail after him for a moment, before you purse your lips, nodding your head at the sad reality that is,

You and Jihoon aren’t best friends anymore.

You walk towards your apartment with the bag of takeout in your hand, feeling tired from the eventful day you had at university. Letting out a breath, you glance up at the sky for a moment as you walk, staring up at the cloudy skies.

“When will the sun come back?” You mutter, wondering if a smidge of sunshine will be able to lift your spirits. Looking back down at the pavement, you freeze when you feel something sharp be pressed into the side of your stomach.

“Give me all your money.” Tiredly, you turn your head, seeing a man with a black ski mask over his face as he stares at you. Glancing downwards, you find that he’s pressing a dull knife into your side, before boredly letting your eyes trail back up towards his face.

“Are you kidding me? Another robbery?” The robber tilts his head in confusion as to why you’re not afraid, watching as you look up towards the sky and send a middle finger towards the clouds.

“God. You know that I’m a poor fucking college student, yet you continue to put me in these money stealing situations not once, but twice in the span a week?!” You shout, and the robber flinches slightly at the anger in your tone. Letting out a sigh, you turn back towards the masked man, staring at him for a moment.

“I hope you can still have children after this, but then again, you shouldn’t be robbing people. Especially broke college students, have you even looked at my backpack? So you know what? Fuck you actually.”

“What?”

Without another word, you rest both hands on the robber’s shoulders, and with as much force as you can, knee him right in the crotch. The man lets out a shriek, falling to his knees, knife hitting the sidewalk as they clutch their poor genitals.

“I fucking hate it here. My backpack literally has holes in it and I have a bag of takeout from the cheapest restaurant in town. Are you dumb? Why would you try to rob me?” You rant to yourself as you take the knife and chuck it down the alleyway. The man calls out to you, and you shoot him a glare, before turning around and walking away.

“Sick and tired of this bullshit.” You grumble, about to turn the corner when you hear footsteps coming from behind you. Your eyes widen, fear taking over as you impulsively start to walk faster, wondering if the man already healed from the fact that you destroyed his chances of having children.

You’re about to break into a full on sprint when you hear two bodies collide behind you, followed by a grunt of pain. Slowly you turn your head, just to find the robber hanging upside down in a web from the top of the streetlight, and your eyes slowly trail down to see the red and blue suited figure staring at you.

“Spiderman?”

“I thought I told you not to get into any trouble again.” The superhero states, walking towards you after making sure that the robber is unconscious. You raise an eyebrow, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “You think I’m trying to get robbed and murdered?”

Spiderman shrugs his shoulders, now standing directly in front of you. “Considering that this is the second time I’ve come to save you in a span of a week-”

“Are you complaining about your job to me right now, Spiderman?” You ask with a grin, and the superhero pauses, before letting out a sigh. You chuckle, tilting your head at the red and blue suited figure standing before you.

“Just. Be safe, please.” He says in a softer tone, and you feel warmth flood your face slightly. You stare at him for a moment, wondering why he seems so familiar, and why he cares so much for you.

Jihoon searches your eyes through the mask, somehow feeling both heartbroken and happy. Heartbroken because him being in the suit is the only reason he can speak to you right now. Happy because he’s able to see you, even if it’s only for a brief moment.

He nods his head before you can ask any questions, preparing to shoot a web to swing away, but you reach out and grasp his wrist. Jihoon sucks in a breath, turning back to glance at you, “Yes?”

“If I happen to be in a situation like this again-”

“Which you won’t.” Spiderman states, and you nod your head, but give him a small smile.

“Will you come save me?” You ask, and the red and blue suited figure stares at you in silence for a second, before nodding his head.

“Of course.” Spiderman mutters, and you bite the inside of your cheek, letting go of his arm so that he can swing away. You raise your hand up and wave at him with a smile on your face,

“Bye, Spiderman.”

Jihoon’s heart warms at the sight of your smile, sending you a wave as he shoots a web towards the top of the building.

“Bye, yn.” You watch as Spiderman swings away from you, staring until he’s out of sight. Reaching into your pocket, you call the cops to make sure that the robber gets arrested, before walking in the direction of your apartment.

It’s when you’re about to enter the building that you pause, turning back to glance behind you when you realize.

“How does Spiderman know my name?”

“You said their NAME?!” Seungcheol yells from across the table, and Jihoon flinches back from the volume. He lets out a frustrated sigh, slapping his own face for his stupidity in the moment.

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know why I said their name! It just slipped out when they waved at me with a smile on their face!” Jihoon responds, looking out the window as he recalls the warm look on your face as you stared at him. His expression morphs into a scowl, wondering why he let himself do that.

“As long as yn doesn’t get into trouble again, it should be fine. I won’t have to run into them anymore.” Jihoon mumbles, letting out a sigh as he rests his forehead down onto the table. Seungcheol watches as his friend’s shoulders slump forward in exhaustion, and he takes a sip of water.

“If you ran into yn again as Spiderman, it’d be sus too. Enemies might look at them as your weakness if it happens too frequently, so hopefully yn getting into trouble was only a two time thing.” Seungcheol adds, and Jihoon glances down at his hands, remembering the harsh reality he has to live as a superhero.

“I hope so, or else the pain of ending our friendship would’ve been for nothing.”

“Cheol, do you know where Uji is? I’ve been trying to reach him for the last week but he hasn’t replied to my text or calls. I even went to his house multiple times but he won’t answer, and when I’d walk up to him during class he’d mutter an excuse and leave.” You explain, fumbling with your hands as you wonder why your best friend hasn’t contacted you. Seungcheol stares at you with a sad look to his eye, before pointing with his chin in the direction of the parking lot.

“Jihoon just left to go to his car, he should probably still be there.” You nod your head, giving Seungcheol a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Cheollie. I’ll text you later!” You call out as you run to the parking lot, and the black haired beauty simply watches until you turn the corner, now out of sight. He lets out a small breath, pursing his lips as he tilts his head to the side. Closing his locker, he looks back up in the direction you left in.

“Woozi, why are you hurting yn like this?”

You push open the front doors, and let out a hopeful smile when you see Jihoon’s car still in its parking space. You run towards the vehicle, tapping on the glass of the driver’s seat window when you make it. Your best friend turns his head to look at you, and you frown when you see a tired sigh leave his lips. Jihoon rolls down the window, looking up at you from his seat.

“What?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? You’ve been missing out on our weekend movie nights and my mom’s been asking for you-”

“Yn, we’re about to be seniors and you’re this dependent on me? You expect me to free up my schedule all the time for you?” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at Jihoon, curious as to why he’s being so cold. The black haired beauty sighs again, turning on the engine to his car.

“I think it’s best for us to not be friends anymore. We’ll probably go to different universities anyways.” Jihoon states, taking one last glance at you before backing out of his parking spot. You clench your fists at your sides, heartbroken and angry at the complete bullshit you just heard.

“Just like that? Ten years of friendship gone just like that?!” You yell out, and Jihoon glances at you. You suck in a breath at the iciness to his gaze, never having had that look directed towards you before.

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t care anymore either.”Jihoon simply rolls up his window and drives out of the parking lot after his harsh words, leaving you standing there alone. Harshly biting the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from falling, you walk back towards the school, not sparing the vehicle another glance.

You lean back into your seat at the memory, wondering why your ex-best friend has been on your mind for the last couple weeks. Letting out a quiet sigh, you stare down at your notes for statistics, suddenly feeling a weight of exhaustion lay itself on your shoulders.

“I’ll take a small walk then.” You mumble, standing up from the table you’ve been occupying. Stretching your arms above your head, you begin to take a walk around the university library. Unconsciously, you head towards the manga section, wondering if you could possibly rent a sailor moon manga.

You walk into an aisle and look around the assortment of manhwas you can choose from, and a bright smile forms on your face when you find the next volume of the sailor moon manga you wanted. You take a step forward and grasp it, only to freeze when you look up and lock eyes with those familiar brown eyes in the aisle in front of you.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, before you look away first, grabbing the manga and walking out of the aisle. Clenching your fist at your side, you head back towards your table, now feeling more angry than exhausted.

Jihoon lets out a breath as he watches you sit down at your table, opening up the manhwa and beginning to read. He walks over to a table by the window, sitting down into the comfy seat and opening up his laptop. His eyes slowly trail up towards you again, and he curses to himself, looking down at his assignment.

“Why’d I even come to the library to study when I have my own apartment?” Jihoon asks himself quietly, but he already knows the answer. He glances up in your direction again, finding you still reading the manga as your foot taps the carpeted floor beneath you. He lets out a soft smile when he catches you giggling quietly, his heart warm just from seeing you.

Jihoon just wants to protect you.

You stir slightly, your vision blurry as you blink your eyes, trying to remember where you are. You gaze around the room, before sucking in a breath when you realize that you’re at the library. The manga you were reading lays open in front of you, and you cringe at the small drool mark left on the table.

Frowning as you inconspicuously wipe away your drool with a tissue, you recall the feeling of being poked. You glance up from the table, just to squint when you see a familiar figure walking towards the exit of the library. Your eyes widen when you realize who it is, and you quickly shove your stuff into your bag, rushing towards the exit to catch up to him.

Jihoon steps out of the library, walking down the steps. He let you sleep for around half an hour until he received a text from Seungcheol letting him know of what seems to be a dangerous drug deal occurring near his apartment complex.

On his way out, Jihoon carefully poked your shoulder until you began to stir, before exiting the library. He only stayed at the library for so long to keep an eye on you, as you have been a magnet for trouble recently.

“Jihoon!” The black haired beauty’s eyes widen at the call of his name, refusing to turn around and instead continues to walk towards the crime scene he needs to go to. “Lee Jihoon!” He picks up the pace when he hears your footsteps draw nearer, only to stop when your hand grasps his shoulder.

“I know you heard me.” You breathe out, and he slowly turns to look at you, trying to appear as uninterested as possible as he does so. Jihoon sighs, “Do you need something, yn? I’m busy right now.”

“Why did you stay at the library while I slept? Did you wake me up?” You ask, and your ex-best friend chuckles, shrugging your hand off his shoulder. Your arm awkwardly falls back to your side, and you clench your fist.

“It’s embarrassing to drool on the library table.” Jihoon answers, and you scoff, turning away from him to look up at the sky. The black haired beauty raises an eyebrow at your reaction, “What’s got you so annoyed?”

“Why would you care about whether or not I was embarrassing myself?” Jihoon stares at you, unable to answer your question. Looking up at the cloudy sky, you let out a bitter laugh, before looking back down towards him.

“You said you didn’t care about our friendship three years ago. You said you didn’t care about me, but your actions right now are fucking confusing me!” You shout in frustration, raising your hands up to your head as you stare at Jihoon. Tears fill your eyes the longer you look at him, and you bite your bottom lip when one escapes your left eye. Jihoon’s gaze follows the single tear, watching as it trails down your cheek.

“You ended our friendship without any remorse, acting as if ten years never mattered. You left me, Uji. You left me! You can’t just suddenly come back into my life and act like you care when you fucking left.” You hiss, stepping forward and poking his chest with each enunciation. Jihoon just stays quiet, feeling nothing but remorse as he watches the tears fall past your eyes. The pain is obvious in your gaze and your words, but he can’t tell you the truth.

He can’t risk your life.

“Fucking pick one. You either care about me or you don’t. If you choose the latter? Then fucking leave me alone, please. The pain is still too much to bear.” You state, before wiping away the tears from your face and turning around and walking away. Jihoon’s eyes follow after you, and he clenches his fist at his side once you turn the corner, now out of sight.

Letting out a breath, the black haired beauty shakes his head as if it’ll clear his thoughts. He turns back in the direction of the drug deal going on and continues on his way, knowing damn well he’s already far too late.

He somehow can’t bring himself to care right now, though.

Jihoon swings from building to building, heart still heavy from the conversation the two of you had a few days prior.

Is it bad for a superhero to despise being one?

Jihoon never asked to be bitten by a radioactive spider and become your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to lose you, one of the people he cares about most in this god forsaken world.

Jihoon never asked for this.

“Ah, but my morals won’t let me just not use this power for good.” Jihoon mutters to himself as he swings onto the top of an apartment complex, staring down at the streets as the stars shine brightly above him and the car lights shine from below.

Removing the mask from his head, he pats down his hair, just looking out for any trouble going on from below him as he does so. He lets out a sigh, letting his legs dangle off the ledge as he stares out across the city, somehow feeling lonely.

The sound of your voice from afar rings in his ear, and he looks down to find you waving off a guy. Reaching over and putting on his mask, he squints his eyes when the guy tries to grab your shoulder.

“You’re really attractive, can you just give me your number?” You hold back from rolling your eyes, instead just shaking your head and giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m not interested.”

“You don’t have to be a bitch. Just give me your fucking number-” You’re about to yell back when a flash of red and blue lands right in front of you, blocking you from the stranger’s advances. The guy’s eyes grow rather large, and you hold back a smirk of amusement as he takes a step back.

“They said they’re not interested. Did your parents teach you nothing about consent?” Spiderman asks coldly, and your eyebrows furrow.

The man takes another step back, having suddenly lost all of his confidence as he shakes his head. The superhero gestures with his chin, waving the guy off.

“Leave while I’m asking nicely.” Spiderman states in an icy tone. The creepy man doesn’t need to be told twice, as he practically sprints away, not sparing another glance back as he does so. The red and blue suited figure turns back towards you, tilting his head at the sight of your frown.

“Are you just a magnet for trouble or something? Why do you always-”

“Jihoon?”

The two of you stare at each other in silence, you with wide eyes, and Jihoon with his mouth dropped open behind the mask. Your eyes trail over his physique, the pieces suddenly coming together as you realize Spiderman and Jihoon have the exact same body type.

Why Spiderman was so stunned to see you at the bank, why his voice was so familiar, why he was so adamant on you being safe, why he’s always there when you’re in a bad situation.

It’s all because it’s Jihoon.

Your ex-best friend is Spiderman.

“Who?” Jihoon asks, trying to play off that he wasn’t shocked at all by the fact that you just uncovered his identity. You continue to stare at him in shock, and you raise a hand to your mouth that you didn’t make the connection sooner.

“You’re fucking Spiderman?!” You whisper-shout, and the superhero runs his hand over the top of his mask. After a moment, Jihoon extends his hand towards you, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else, yn.” Spiderman, no, Jihoon says. You stare at his hand for a second, before your eyes trail up towards his mask. Letting out a breath, you reach out and grasp his hand, and he pulls you closer so that your arms have to wrap around his waist.

“You trust me?” Jihoon asks as he shoots a web towards the top of the building.

“No, not since you left.” You answer, and your ex-best friend lets out a breath. He turns to glance at you, and you look back at him, aware of the close proximity between you two.

“Hold on tight, yn. I won’t let you fall.” Jihoon tells you, and you slowly tighten your grip around his waist. His hold on you is strong as well, and before you know it, the two of you are flying up into the air, swinging around.

“Oh my God!” You shout, holding Jihoon’s body even tighter as you close your eyes to the sight below you. Before you know it, the black haired beauty has landed the two of you on top of a building, but you keep your eyes shut.

“Yn, you can let go now.” You hear him say, but you refuse to let go, still holding his waist as you keep your face in the crook of his neck. Jihoon’s aware of how fast his heart is beating from the fact that you’re basically hugging him right now, but all he can hope is that you don’t feel it.

“Yn-”

“Just. A few more seconds, please.” You plead, voice shaking slightly from the overwhelming emotions you feel as you hug your ex-best friend. Jihoon bites his bottom lip, nodding his head as he keeps one arm wrapped around you.

After a moment, you pull away and stare at the masked figure. He lets out a breath, knowing how dangerous this is, but he was already caught red handed by you. Slowly, he reaches his hand up and takes his mask off, revealing that familiar face you’ve always known, just with his black hair sitting messily atop his head.

“We need to talk, Jihoon.” You state, and he nods his head, turning to look out towards the city.

“Let’s talk then.”

“So you ended our friendship to protect me, not because you suddenly decided to be an ass?” Jihoon purses his lips at the term, knowing that he did act like a bitch. Nodding his head, you turn back to look out towards the city, letting out a sigh.

It’s been almost an hour since you realized that Jihoon is Spiderman, and the two of you are currently sitting on the ledge of the building. He just told you everything that you didn’t know, and it gave you all the answers to the questions you’ve been asking yourself for the last three years.

That doesn’t mean you’re not pissed off though.

“You could’ve just told me the truth.” You mutter, and the black haired beauty beside you immediately shakes his head, no. “No one knew I was Spiderman until the day I saved you the first time. I had to tell Cheol the truth because he was convinced I was a drug dealer when I collapsed into his apartment with a bullet hole in my thigh-”

“You got shot?!”

“So he was the first person to ever find out the truth after three years of me keeping my identity a secret. You were able to figure it out though.” Jihoon finishes, ignoring the fact that you’re staring at him with a shocked expression on your face, very concerned at the fact that he got shot. The superhero is fine though, it healed nicely.

“You really hurt me, ya know.” You state, turning to glance at Jihoon. He looks away from you, feeling ashamed for what he felt that he had to do. He nods his head, staring out at the lights in the city, watching them shine brightly.

Jihoon thinks that they could never shine as bright as you, though.

“I know that my apology probably means nothing in comparison to what I destroyed and how much I hurt you, but I’m so fucking sorry, yn.” Jihoon says, the regret very clear in his tone. He doesn’t turn back towards you, but you understand. He’s never been good at being open about his feelings, let alone apologizing.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You mutter, turning away to look out at the city alongside him. The two of you stare at the lights from the cars and buildings, seeing how alive Seoul is at night.

“I missed you.” Jihoon whispers after a moment of the two of you just sitting in silence, and you hold back a smile from breaking out onto your features as you glance down at the busy street below the two of you. Nodding your head, you let out a sigh, looking up at the stars as your vision soon turns blurry.

“I missed you too, Uji.”

Seungcheol practically drags himself to his apartment door after the insistent knocking continues even though he originally ignored it. The blonde wipes his eyes as he opens the door in an attempt to wake himself up more, only for his mouth to drop open.

“Yn and Woozi?!” Seungcheol gapes, and you give him a smile, raising your arm up and waving at your old friend. “Hi Cheollie!”

Seungcheol nods his head at you, mouth still dropped open as his gaze falls to Jihoon, who is just giving him a sheepish smile. The blonde steps to the side, allowing you and Jihoon to enter his apartment as he closes the front door.

“Would you like any food, yn?” Seungcheol asks as he slowly walks over to the kitchen, and you nod your head as you look around your surroundings. “That would be great, thanks.”

Seungcheol grins, before grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and yanking him into the kitchen without another word. You bite back a laugh, choosing to walk over towards Seungcheol’s couch and sitting down, allowing the two to catch up on what just transpired.

“Yn KNOWS?!” You glance over towards the kitchen when you hear Seungcheol’s voice ring out. Finally letting out a giggle when you hear him shout in indignation from what you presume was Jihoon’s slap.

After a few more minutes pass, the two finally exit the kitchen with a fresh pot of ramen, which Seungcheol places on top of a potholder onto the coffee table. Jihoon hands you a bowl and chopsticks, to which you gratefully accept and begin to eat.

“So. You know.” Seungcheol begins, and you nod your head as you slurp up more noodles. The blonde nods his head back at you, looking away and eating some ramen himself. “Good for you, good for you.”

The sounds of the three of you slurping up noodles fills the strange silence that has settled itself over Seungcheol’s apartment. You share a glance with Jihoon, who just looks both amused and annoyed, before sneaking a peek at Seungcheol, who still appears to be in a state of shock.

The latter turns to look at you again, “You and Jihoon are friends again?”

As you chew the noodles, you take a look at the black haired beauty, only to end up catching his gaze. You tilt your head at him, wondering the same thing, and he just gives you a close-lipped smile. Taking a sip of the soup, he gestures towards you with his hand.

“I don’t think I have the right to decide that after what I did, not to make that sound like I don’t want us to be friends again. I missed you a lot, but it’s your decision on whether or not you want to be friends.” Jihoon explains, and Seungcheol nods his head in agreement. You poke your tongue into the inside of your cheek, having appreciated Jihoon’s response.

Leaning onto the back of the couch, you reach your hand up and rub the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. The two look at you expectantly, waiting for your answer as you take a sip of water.

Giving them both a small smile you say, “Yeah. Jihoon and I are friends.”

Jihoon smiles softly at your answer as he stares down at his ramen while Seungcheol lets out a cheer, beginning to happily catch up with you on everything the two of you haven’t been able to discuss. His eyes trail over to you, seeing the bright smile on your face as you converse with the blonde. While Jihoon is happy that you’re in his life again, deep down, he’s worried for your safety.

For good reason.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, on the other side of the city, people are talking.

“I think Spidey knew who they were, that’s why he let us go that day.” The man reports, sliding over the photo of you and Spiderman standing before each other from a few hours prior. The leader clicks his tongue as he easily recognizes you, surprised that you’re still alive even after he shot his gun in your direction.

“So the superhero does have a weakness.” The leader says, amusement written across his features as he stares at the photo of you and Spiderman for a second longer. Placing the picture down onto the table, he looks up towards his underling, giving him a smile.

“Do more research on that person and get back to me when you find out where they frequent.” He orders, softly stroking the photo as he tilts his head. Letting out a chuckle, he leans back into his seat, eyes trailing over towards the window, seeing the lit up Lotte World Tower shining back at him.

“Can’t let Spidey’s weakness just slip out of our fingers, can we?”

Sitting on a blanket laid over the grass at the university forum, you type out your lab report on your laptop with the soft ost instrumental playing through your earbuds. As you do your assignment, you fail to realize that the sun that was shining on you has been blocked for a few minutes now. It’s only when you look away from your laptop to grab a grape to snack on that you notice the pair of sneakers standing right in front of your blanket.

Your eyes trail up the body until you lock eyes with Jihoon, and you let out a bright smile at the sight of him. Raising your hand up slightly, you wave at the pretty man.

“How long have you been standing there? Come sit with me.” You say, scooting over on the blanket and grabbing the bag of grapes. Patting the space beside you, you look up at Jihoon expectantly, who grins softly down at you. He places his bag down and slips off his shoes before sitting down next to you on the blanket, taking a glance at your laptop screen.

“Studying?” You shrug your shoulders at the question, typing out the last sentence of your lab report. Shutting your laptop, you turn and send a wink towards the black haired beauty. “Not anymore, I just finished. Now I don’t have any bio homework for the rest of the day.”

Jihoon turns away when you wink at him, feeling warmth flood his face at how cute you looked. Confusion and discomfort settles over him after a second, wondering why he felt so flustered when you winked at him. It’s nothing new, you always used to wink and act cute whenever you were excited or wanted something from him.

So why is Jihoon’s heart racing right now? Why has it been racing every time he’s seen you recently?

Oh my God, am I having a stroke?

“You’re having a stroke?!” You ask, sitting up onto your knees to check over Jihoon’s face. The latter’s mouth drops open slightly, having not realized he said that out loud. He immediately raises his hands up and shakes his head at you, “No! I’m fine, yn. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breath of relief, plopping back down beside him. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, just appreciating each other’s presence while the sun basks the both of you in warmth.

It’s been a couple weeks since you realized that Jihoon was Spiderman, and the reason why he ended your guys’ friendship so abruptly. At first, he was too afraid to approach you, as he wasn’t sure what the protocol was now that you guys were friends again. However, the two of you quickly become comfortable, falling into a dynamic similar to what you once had three years ago.

A similar dynamic, as the two of you have realized one thing incredibly different.

You unconsciously turn your head to take a peek at Jihoon, just to lock gazes with the pretty man. You’re about to look away, only to stop when you see the hint of a smile forming on his face. You tilt your head at him, wondering what he’s thinking as he lets out a breath, turning away from you.

“Wanna go do something since you don’t have any more homework to do?” Jihoon suggests as he looks around the square, noticing all the couples that surround the two of you. Glancing down at your shut laptop, you nod your head, finding the idea of spending the day with Jihoon to be rather lovely.

“What would we do though?” You ask as the two of you stand up from the blanket, packing all your things to bring back to your apartment. Jihoon places your laptop into your bag, before zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own backpack. He gives you a grin, “I have an idea in mind.”

Pursing your lips as the two of you begin to walk off the grass and onto the cobblestone pathway, you find yourself wondering what his plan is.

“Sounds suspicious. I’m in.”

“I’m concerned at what your thought process was to come to that conclusion, yn.”

“Don’t worry about it, Spidey.”

The sweet flavor of the ice cream hits your tongue, making you let out a happy sigh as you look up at the night sky. Jihoon turns to glance at you, grinning at how content you look while holding your ice cream cone.

“Now that idea wasn’t bad, now was it?” You smile at the sentence, nodding your head as you remember the events of the day.

Jihoon took you both to the movies, where you both thoroughly enjoyed the new Disney movie as you shared a bucket of popcorn. There were a few cliche moments where you would both reach for the popcorn and grab each other's hand, only to jerk away and just not attempt to get a handful of popcorn for a few minutes.

After the movie ended, you went to go and get dinner where you both just joked around like old times. An argument ensued where the two of you fought over who’s paying the bill, only for Jihoon to sneak the waitress his card while you weren’t looking. This resulted in you almost going back to the waitress to request a refund so that you could pay for the meal (which isn’t how it works at all), only for the two of you to come to a compromise.

Now here you both are at 11 pm, walking along the street towards your apartment complex as you each eat ice cream that you paid for.

“It was rather fun. It reminded me of our old movie nights.” You respond with a grin, turning to glance at Jihoon. He chuckles at the old memories of the two of you meeting at each other’s houses on Friday evenings to watch movies, and he nods his head in agreement.

Jihoon opens his mouth to make a joke, only to pause when he realizes you’re no longer beside him. Turning around, he sees you standing a few feet behind him, a look of awe on your face as you look up at the sky, ice cream in your hand long forgotten. His eyes look over in the direction you’re staring in, and he lets out a soft smile when he sees the full moon surrounded by billions of stars.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as your eyes sparkle happily upon the sight of it.

Jihoon feels his breath get taken away when his gaze trails over to you, the light from the moon shining onto you, giving off an ethereal glow. His heart pounds against his chest, and he feels warmth flood his face when a smile forms on your face. Slowly, he looks back over towards the moon, swallowing the lump in his throat as he answers softly,

“The moon was always beautiful.”

“Jihoon! Stop banging on my door, I’m coming! Jesus Christ-” Seungcheol calls out as he walks over towards his door. The blonde is seriously contemplating just giving his friend a key to his place due to how often he comes over nowadays.

Seungcheol swings the door open, just to find his superhero best friend looking incredibly dazed and confused. He raises an eyebrow when Jihoon just walks inside the apartment without being let in, and he sighs.

“Can I come in, Cheol? Yeah, of course I’ll let you in Woozi! Thanks for asking so nicely. Of course, you’re my best friend, Cheol! Oh really? You’re my best friend too, Woozi.” Seungcheol bitterly roleplays as he watches the black haired beauty walk over towards his fridge and grabs a can of cola. He tilts his head to the side, wondering what has his friend so distraught as Jihoon mindlessly drinks the battery acid in a can, before crushing it in his hand once he’s finished.

The two stand in silence for a moment. With Seungcheol staying a few feet away for his own safety as he’s never seen Jihoon act like this, and Jihoon just staring absentmindedly down at the floor with wide eyes.

“You good, Woozi?” Seungcheol asks after a second, and his friend finally looks up at him, making the blonde squint at the state Jihoon’s in. “Woozi-”

“I like yn.”

The two stand across each other in another beat of silence. With Seungcheol gauging the incredibly out of the ordinary information that was just bestowed upon him, and Jihoon staring at him with wide eyes.

Seungcheol gasps, raising his hands to his mouth after the confession suddenly hits him. He raises his hand up and points at Jihoon, and the latter winces slightly at what he knows is about to happen.

“YOU LIKE YN?!”

“Stop squealing! You’re hurting my ears.” Jihoon grumbles, but the upwards tilt of the corner of his lips shows that he’s anything but angry at his friend. Seungcheol just lets out another squeal in response, and the black haired beauty sighs as he leans back while taking a sip of water.

Jihoon finally admitted the truth that he had been avoiding since the moment the two of you shared underneath the full moon.

He likes you.

Lee Jihoon likes you.

This could either be a very good thing or an incredibly terrible thing depending on what he decides to do.

“You should confess!” Seungcheol exclaims, causing Jihoon to look at him with a look that says, are you crazy?! without actually saying it. The blonde runs a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to go on but Jihoon simply shakes his head again.

“No.”

“Hear me out, Woozi-”

“Absolutely not. I just got yn back in my life and you want me to quite possibly ruin our relationship a second time? I don’t even have the right to have feelings after what I did to them.” Jihoon snaps, gulping down more water to try and soothe his anger.

“But yn likes you back!”

All the water is now on the table as Jihoon coughs rather violently from the news Seungcheol just delivered, while the blonde just sighs and walks over to the kitchen to grab paper towels. Jihoon punches his chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm down.

“Yn what?” Jihoon asks once Seungcheol enters the living room again, wiping the water that the superhero coughed all over the table. He watches as his friend scratches the top of his head, giving him a smile.

“Okay, so yn may not have actually admitted that-” Jihoon stands up from the table and walks over to the front door to leave, only to halt when he hears Seungcheol shout out towards him.

“But I can see it from the way they look at you!” His hand rests on the doorknob, waiting for Seungcheol to continue so that he can decide whether or not to leave the apartment and pretend this whole interaction never occurred. The blonde quickly throws away the used up paper towels and steps closer towards Jihoon, knowing that he only has a few seconds to explain what he meant.

“What you did to yn was awful, they know that, you know that, we all know that.” Seungcheol begins, and Jihoon purses his lips. “But you apologized and told yn the truth, and you know what? They forgave you. The two of you have been hanging out almost every time you’re not out there saving the city. I wish you could only see that the way you look at them, is also the same way they look at you when you’re not looking.”

Jihoon stands by the door in silence for a moment, gauging the information that Seungcheol just dropped on him. He looks down at his socks, trying to remember the times he caught you staring at him when he wasn’t looking. Tilting his head, he begins to wonder if the sparkle he saw in your eye is only there when you look at him.

Jihoon lifts his head up towards the ceiling and lets out a sigh. Seungcheol waits in anticipation, finally grinning in excitement when Jihoon turns to look at him with a furrow to his brows.

“If you’re wrong, I’m going to stick you to the ceiling.”

“I know.”

“Okay, good. Now help me figure out how to confess to yn in a cute way.”

You walk through campus, a smile on your face as you look up at the bright blue sky, feeling happy with the weather. You’ve always enjoyed the sunshine, it always automatically uplifts your mood.

Glancing over to the side, you see a familiar blonde head of hair walking while looking down at his phone, making you raise an eyebrow in amusement. Quietly, you sneak over to where he is and rest your hands on his shoulders as a means to make him look up at you.

“Who the fuck-”

“Seungcheol!” You greet cheerfully when his eyes lock with yours, and you watch as his look of confusion melts into one of joy when he recognizes you.

“Yn! Were you heading this way?” You shake your head, no, at his question. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you, and you just grin. “I just wanted to say hi before I head over to my next class. Have you seen Jihoon today?”

Seungcheol bites his tongue to prevent himself from spoiling the whole surprise, and instead gives you a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. He looks off to the side, just to see the man in question heading over in your guys’ direction.

“No not yet, why?” Seungcheol asks, and you purse your lips, wondering why you asked that question as well. When you open your mouth to respond, you jump up slightly when a hand softly rests on your shoulder, making you turn to see Jihoon smiling at you.

“Uji! I was just asking about you.”

“Mmm, talking shit?”

“Of course.” You respond cheekily, making the black haired beauty roll his eyes as you let out a laugh. Seungcheol and Jihoon share a glance, to which the blonde shoots him a quick nod of his head. Seungcheol raises his arms above his head, and you look over to see him giving you a regretful smile.

“While I would love to stay and hangout with you guys, I gotta go do my internship. See you two later!” You grin and wave at your friend, to which he waves back. Seungcheol pats Jihoon on the shoulder as he passes by him, and soon the two of you are left alone.

“Are you busy later?” Jihoon asks you suddenly, and your eyes widen slightly. After a moment of thinking of any possible homework, you shake your head in response. “I haven’t been assigned any homework that’s due anytime soon, so I’ll be free. Why?”

You squint when you notice the pink tinge on Jihoon’s cheeks, watching as he runs a hand through his black hair. While avoiding your inquisitive gaze, the superhero mutters something that you’re unable to decipher.

“Heh?” Jihoon almost lets out a sigh, feeling too shy to ask a second time, let alone a bit louder. He finally looks back into your eyes, and you feel your heart stutter within your chest at the warmth to his gaze.

“Meet me at the ice cream shop we went to a couple weeks ago at around six. I have something to tell you.” Jihoon says, and you tilt your head to the side with a teasing smile on your face. You watch as he scowls at your expression, making you let out a giggle.

“What?”

“Why are you edging me?” Jihoon chokes on his saliva from your out of pocket question, causing you to laugh loudly and reassure him that you’re just joking when he doubles over. The black haired beauty looks back at you with a look of disbelief once he’s calmed down, but you smile when you see that all the traces of nervousness have disappeared from his face.

“I forgot how out of pocket your lingo is, Jesus Christ.” Jihoon mutters, and you shrug your shoulders with a chuckle. Glancing down at your phone, you notice that it’s almost time for your lecture, and you let out a breath.

“I have to go to class, but I’ll definitely meet you at six tonight!” You reassure, and Jihoon nods his head. Beaming, you walk past him to head to your class, his eyes following after you. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you stop a few feet away, watching as you turn around to face him again.

The sun shines down on you, casting a pretty glow on your skin as you smile at him from afar. Your eyes sparkle prettily at him as you raise your hand up and wave at him, causing warmth to flood Jihoon’s face as he reaches up and waves back at you shyly.

“See you at six, Uji!” You call out with a wave, before turning back around and heading to your class. Jihoon sighs, feeling his heartbeat go back to normal once you’re out of sight. Running a hand through his hair, he goes back on his way towards his apartment, a soft smile forcing itself out onto his face at the thought of you.

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you walk towards the ice cream shop with a content smile on your face. The night air is warm this evening, adding onto the remains of your happy mood from earlier in the day.

Tilting your head, you wonder what Jihoon has to tell you that he had to wait until the evening. You pause your movements, suddenly realizing how stupid you are.

“Yn, he’s literally a superhero. He’s Spiderman! He has other priorities, that’s why he had to wait. Don’t be dumb.” You remind yourself, shaking your head as you continue on your way towards the ice cream shop again. Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you pull it out, seeing that Jihoon’s texted you.

uji: i’m here

want me to order your ice cream ?

You smile down at the message, seeing that he’s a few minutes early. Glancing up, you notice that you’re about a block away from the shop and nod your head. “Might as well order for me already.”

you: awe are you paying for me? <333

uji: sigh

i suppose....

you: AWE<3333

uji: are you almost here? i don’t wanna order your ic if you’re still far

you: i’m about a block away !

btw what did you wanna talk to me about?

uji: you’ll find out when you get here stinky

see you soon

you: booooo okay

see you soon <333

Grinning down at your phone, you place it back into your pocket. You look up to start walking faster towards the ice cream shop in order not to keep Jihoon waiting, only for everything to turn black.

Panicking, you reach up to try and remove the bag that’s over your face, only to let out a garbled scream when an arm gets wrapped around your neck. You’re pulled backwards, and you claw at the arm that’s wrapped around you, about to scream more when you hear the sound of a van door open behind you.

“Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. I’d stay silent if you want to live.” Your blood runs cold at the familiar voice near your ear, making you halt your movements. You’re thrown into the van, and the bag gets yanked off your head once the door closes.

You’re about to break through the window of the van when the familiar sound of a click resonates next to your ear, and you know that you’re fucked. Slowly, you glance over to your side, just to lock eyes with the leader of the failed bank heist. He lets out an amused smile, nudging your head with the gun.

“So I see that you know Spiderman?”

Jihoon panics as he walks around the block, raising his phone to his ear as he calls you for the upteenth time.

You were only a block away. You told him that you were only a block away.

An hour has passed and you’re nowhere to be found.

“Yn, please. Please pickup the phone.” Jihoon begs as he crosses the street, trying to give himself excuses of what could’ve possibly made you late. He curses to himself when the call goes straight to voicemail, and he lowers the phone so that he can call you again.

He’s about to press on the call button when his phone rings, and he lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he sees that it’s you calling him. Immediately, he presses the phone to his ear.

“Yn! Where are yo-”

“Spidey! You’ve been calling yn’s phone so much I almost wanted to break it.” Jihoon’s blood runs cold at the voice, any sense of relief he felt now down the drain as he stares at the sidewalk with wide eyes.

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done to yn?” Jihoon asks icily, looking around for any suspicious vehicles. The man on the other end lets out a shocked laugh, and the superhero squints his eyes.

“Now, now, Spiderboy. I’m a bit offended that you’ve forgotten me so quickly.” Jihoon’s mouth drops open when he hears the incorrect name, only having heard it from one person so far. He bites his lip harshly, anger running through his veins.

“You’re the guy from the bank. The conman.” Jihoon mutters, looking up and beginning to head towards his apartment so that he can change into his suit. “Ah, so you do remember.”

“Yeah, thought you were in fucking jail. Guess the police couldn’t do their goddamn job right again.” The black haired beauty says angrily, already blaming himself for having left you alone.

“True. You know, the police really aren’t all that great at catching us bad-”

“Cut to the chase. Tell me where you’re holding yn and I’ll go there.” Jihoon cuts off, and the man on the other end lets out an amused chuckle. Tilting his head, the conman turns to glance back at you, smiling when he sees that you’re still passed out.

“We’re at the top of the Lotte World Tower. Be here by 8:00 or else.” The man says with a smirk, and Jihoon clenches his fist at his side as he begins to sprint. “Got it.”

“See you soon, Spiderboy.”

Jihoon climbs to the top of Lotte World Tower, the only thing on his mind being that he has to get you out of here. He knows that the police and FBI are on their way, having called them while he was swinging over. Looking down at the busy street below him, Jihoon sees the flashing red and blue lights a few blocks over, and he purses his lips.

Jihoon’s about to pull himself onto the rooftop, only to pause when he overhears a conversation, staying where he is.

“Boss, don’t you remember how fast he was able to unarm us? There was double the number of our team at that bank heist than there is here. He’ll be able to-”

“Shut up, Doyoon. Remember your place.”

Jihoon lets out a breath, before pulling himself onto the top of the building. He locks eyes with the leader of the group, who only smiles cheekily when he lays eyes on the superhero. The conman glances down at his watch, seeing that it’s 7:58 pm.

“You made it with two minutes to spare. Good job, Spidey.” He announces, voice laced with sarcasm. His four men all turn with their guns pointed towards Jihoon, and the superhero lets out a scoff.

“I let you guys go with your money and yet you’re calling me back here? Do you have a fucking deathwish?” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth, and he has half the mind to hold back his chuckle when he notices the worried glance two of the guys share.

“Ah, ah, ah! Remember Spiderboy, I can push yn off this building at any given moment.” Jihoon’s gaze trails over to find you tied up in a chair close to the edge opposite of him, tears filling your eyes as you stare at him.

“Yn.” Jihoon breathes out, about to take a step forward, and you shake your head at him. You bite your bottom lip, looking down at your lap to try and hold back your sobs. Jihoon clenches his fist at his side, before turning to look back at the leader.

“What do you want, whatever your fucking name is?” Jihoon asks, and the conman laughs loudly. He paces back and forth in his spot, grinning at the superhero.

“My name is Kangdae.” He answers, and Jihoon sucks in a deep breath, beginning to run out of patience.

“Well, that’s one question answered and that was the most useless one of the two. Now tell me what you want from me, I’m impatient.” Jihoon practically commands, eyes flitting over towards you after every beat. The conman, now Kangdae, simply lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he looks up at the night sky.

“I had everything planned for the day of the robbery. My men and I planned it for months, it was fool proof.” Kangdae begins, and Jihoon almost lets out a scoff, but holds himself back as he simply just calculates how to snatch all four guns at the same time. The conman chuckles darkly, “We never expected the supposed superhero of the city to appear, and I never expected for him to kill my brother either.”

Jihoon’s head snaps towards Kangdae, and the leader of the group smirks to himself. He looks down from the sky, locking eyes with the superhero behind his mask, silence passing between them.

Jihoon remembers someone getting shot that day, but he was never the one behind the trigger.

“I didn’t kill your brot-”

“Bullshit!” Kangdae’s voice booms, staring at Jihoon like a rabid animal. He chuckles darkly, raising up his hand to scratch his head. “You were fighting him when it happened. There’s no other way my brother would’ve died except by your hands.”

Jihoon just stands there, not knowing what to say as he knows it would arise a reaction from Kangdae either way. The man laughs as he stares at the superhero, before he hears a quiet cry from beside him. Jihoon’s eyes widen when he realizes that Kangdae has remembered that you’re sitting in the chair close to the edge.

“I tried looking for any type of weakness from you, but there was nothing and no one I could find. Until my men discovered how often you saved yn, that I finally found your weakness.” Kangdae states, slowly looking up at Spiderman with bloodshot eyes. Jihoon glances over at you, seeing your eyes widen when the conman turns to look at you.

“This will serve as a reminder to never have a weakness in this field.” Kangdae practically mutters, and Jihoon snaps his head to look at the man. The leader turns and grins at Spiderman, before motioning towards his men. “Kill him.”

Kangdae turns back to face you and grabs your chair, tuning out the sounds of your screams and cries for help as he drags you closer to the ledge. You sob loudly, trying to stop the man from getting any closer as you try to plant your heels into the ground.

Jihoon’s already moving, having unarmed the four men right away. His heart pounds loudly against his ears as he hears the sound of your screams, fighting the men with his instincts doing everything for him as he just blindly punches and kicks.

“P-Please. Please don’t do this.” You beg, hiccuping as you let out another scream when you realize that you’re able to look down over the tower. After a moment of just listening to your hiccups, Kangdae tightens his grip on the back of your chair, before bending down and cutting the ties around your wrists and legs. You’re about to ask what he’s doing, feeling a sliver of hope rise in your throat. He grabs your arm tightly and pulls you up so that you’re standing.

All hope goes down the drain when he looks at you with sad eyes, “It’s what I have to do.” The conman mutters. Your eyes widen when he pushes you, and suddenly you’re falling.

“YN!” Jihoon yells when he sees you fall off the edge, finally knocking the last guy unconscious before sprinting over and shooting a web down to your body. You reach out towards it, feeling the web hit your stomach so that you’re no longer falling. Panicking, you look down, seeing how high up you are from the ground, and you hold on tightly to the web.

“Oh God. Oh my fucking God. I’m gonna hurl.” You whisper to yourself, looking up at Jihoon to give him a thumbs up that you’re okay.

Jihoon lets out a breath of relief, quickly tying his end of the web to the ledge. Right as he finishes, he’s shoved onto his side. His eyes widen when a sharp blade comes straight down towards his face, and he dodges it, immediately standing up to fight Kangdae properly.

“You’re ruining my plan.”

“I didn’t kill your brother.” Jihoon mutters, eyes flickering over to the web to make sure that you’re still okay. Kangdae notices this, and he lets out a grin. “Yeah, and I didn’t kill yn.”

Within a second, Jihoon is fighting for the knife from Kangdae. Knowing that if he doesn’t get the weapon away from him, then he won’t be able to protect you. Jihoon lets out a hiss of pain when he doesn’t dodge fast enough, the blade slicing a bit of his arm.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Jihoon mutters as he continues to dodge all of his stab attempts. Kangdae chuckles darkly, staring at the superhero with hatred in his gaze. “You didn’t show my brother that mercy.”

The two begin to fight again, with Jihoon simply dodging the knife as swiftly as he can with his wounded arm. He kicks Kangdae’s legs out from under him, making the man fall hard onto his back, letting out a wheeze.

“Stop this, Kangdae.” Jihoon orders, staring down at the man below him. The conman simply chuckles, slowly standing back up as his eyes trail over to the web that’s tied to the edge of the rooftop. Kangdae looks back up towards the superhero, and lets out a smile.

“You’ll never catch yn.”

Kangdae quickly steps over and slices the web, only for his mouth to drop open in horror when he loses his balance and begins to fall over the ledge himself. The superhero quickly shoots a web towards Kangdae’s foot, keeping him from falling to his death as Jihoon sprints and leaps off the building to catch you.

“YN!”

“JIHOON!” You sob, reaching out towards him with your hand.

Jihoon positions himself to fall faster, panicking when he sees how he won’t make it to you in time. In a last ditch attempt, he shoots a web towards you, almost letting out a cry of relief when he sees you catch it. Jihoon pulls you up with the slim string, watching as you outstretch your arms towards him once he’s close enough.

Jihoon wraps his arms tightly around your body once you’re within grasp, before turning and reaching out his hand, shooting a web towards the top of the Lotte World Tower. Your bodies jerk when the string attaches itself to the ledge, and he swings the both of you towards the building beside it, the wind blowing against you as Jihoon safely lands the two of you onto the rooftop.

Once your feet touch the ground, you cling to Jihoon’s body tightly, sobs wracking your body as you refuse to let go, even though you know you’re safe and sound. The superhero holds you just as tight, tears falling from his eyes at how close he was to losing you.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Jihoon mutters, his own body trembling as he reaches his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you continue to cry. You shake your head into the crook of his neck as a way to tell him it’s not his fault, unable to find any words at the moment as you just want to hold him.

“I caught you.” Jihoon breathes out after a moment, tightening his hold around your waist as you sob loudly into his neck. You nod your head, letting out a wet laugh, hands still shaking as you hug Jihoon tightly.

“You’ll always catch me, Uji.” You mumble. He closes his eyes, the feeling of relief flooding the both of you as you hold each other underneath the night sky.

“I caught you, yn.”

414 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Conferences (Maxwell Lord/Lorenzano x f!teacher!Reader)

Summary: Alistair Lorenzano is a third grader in your class, whom you absolutely adore. Upon meeting his father, Maxwell, you suddenly have much more interest in the Lorenzano family. Set after WW84.

W/C: 2.9k

Warnings: language, flirting, talk of divorce and trauma, lots of talk of children and such, especially Alistair. brief nondescript mentions of Maxwell’s shitty childhood. uh. Spoilers for The Great Gatsby lmao

A/N: well! I haven’t written for max in a long time but the ship request (which are CLOSED) i received here really made me inspired! hope u guys like it :)

Alistair Lorenzano was a joy to have in class. You mean it too, not like when you don’t have a comment for a child’s report card and you just stick that phrase on the bottom. No, Alistair is a genuinely good kid.

The little dark haired boy walked in proudly on the first day, even as none of the other children came over to say hello or pal around with him. He seemed lonely, but he marched up to your desk and placed a beautiful apple on the desk, giving you a gap-toothed grin and introducing himself with a handshake. Alistair didn’t talk to his other classmates much that day, or any other day really. He was usually preoccupied with a book of some sort.

He sits alone at lunch and recess, usually burying his nose in a book as the other children play. He’s progressed quite quickly, reading big wordy books the other fourth graders surely couldn’t handle. When a child has no one to play with, Alistair will sit with them and talk. He’ll always help a struggling classmate with their long division or come up with a good synonym for them. He rarely raises his hand, but he’s almost always correct.

He’ll come in early most mornings. He doesn’t talk much about his family, but he says his dad works early in the morning and that he has to drop him off earlier. That’s fine with you; the kid is a good conversationalist and will read quietly while you arrange lesson plans or grade spelling tests.

You wonder what his family is like. All you know about his father is that he works early in the morning. His mother has dropped him off late several times, but that always led to more early mornings; presumably his father’s doing.

As a teacher, you tend to shy away from family-based assignments. You’re fully aware that some of your students won’t want to share what their parents do for a living, or talk about them at all. That’s why you don’t know much about the Lorenzano family- you don’t ask and Alistair doesn’t share.

Conferences are approaching soon as you approach the midpoint of the first semester. Most parents don’t come if their children are doing well; typically, only the parents of struggling children make appearances. That’s why you’re surprised to read the note Alistair hands you when he walks in, thirty minutes before class begins, as always.

You frown reading the little note of paper, pushing your glasses up your nose. “You’re sure that your father needs a conference?” You ask the little boy. He looks confused. “I’d love to meet him,” you say hurriedly, sipping your morning coffee. “It’s just that… you’re a very smart kid, Alistair. Usually it’s the parents of kids who don’t do so well that sign up for conferences.”

Alistair shrugs, taking off his puffy fall jacket and hanging it on his hook near your desk. “I don’t know. Dad just said he wanted that time,” he says, pointing at your paper.

Dramatically uncapping a colored flare pen, you make a show out of writing down the name for your 7:30 time slot: Mr Lorenzano. “Well, I will see your dad then,” you tell the kid with a smile. He seems pleased that you’re excited. “What’s his name?”

“Maxwell,” Alistair informs you, sitting at his desk and cracking open his book.

You repeat the name, writing it down in the purple pen you chose. “Your family has very elegant names,” you tease Alistair.

Alistair shrugs. “Dad likes to sound fancy.”

Maxwell has never met you, but he feels that he knows you like an old friend. Alistair absolutely adores you, tells his father about you at any chance he gets.

You sound wonderful. He supposes that Alistair would adore any female figure in his life right now. Vanessa, the former Mrs. Lord, has all but rejected her son. When Alistair would spend time at her place, she’d practically ignore her own kid, prioritizing whatever she wanted to do. Several days, Alistair was late to or completely missed school thanks to Vanessa’s ignorance.

That’s why Maxwell has taken nearly full custody now. Vanessa didn’t argue it. She was glad to have Alistair out of her hair. Besides, she resented Maxwell for endless reasons, usually unfounded. She wanted to see him struggle.

But Maxwell thrived. Alistair and his father are as close as can be. Maxwell now works a menial job, after the whole Dreamstone fiasco, but he’s managing to make ends meet. When they have enough money left over, he’ll take Alistair to the movies or buy him a new lego kit.

Maxwell hasn’t found love since Vanessa, but he thinks you might be the one for him. One could call him a hopeless romantic; his heart builds and breaks as easily as a wave on the shore. You sound so nurturing and lovely, so wonderful to the one Maxwell loves most. That’s partially why he scheduled the conference with you.

The other part was that Alistair is a budding genius in Maxwell’s eyes. He flies through thick books day in and day out, and Max wants to accommodate the skills in his son. He constantly tells him how proud of him he is, but he wants to make sure he can keep helping him learn.

On the day of the conference, Maxwell is nervous. Why is he nervous? He combs his closet several times to find one of the nice suits from his glory days, but decides it to be ridiculous. He’s not sure how much Alistair tells you about his family, but he’s sure you know he is no longer the television personality Max Lord. Instead, he settles for a dress shirt and pants, tossing on a light jacket over it. The fall air is turning crisp, especially in the evenings.

Doña Gloria from next door knocks on the door at promptly 7:00, and Alistair pops up to answer it. He loves the old woman, and wraps her in a big hug. Gloria walks inside the apartment, grinning at the sight of Maxwell’s outfit. “Ah, making a good impression on the boy’s teacher,” she nods in approval.

“Hoping to,” he nods and adjusts the suede jacket over his lapels, fidgeting with the zipper. “Alistair, why don’t you go find that game you wanted to play with Doña Gloria?”

The child runs off obediently and the woman straightens his collar for him. “Little Maxie has a crush,” she sings.

“Gloria,” he frowns as he messes with the cuffs. “I’ve never even met the woman.”

She gives a knowing smile. “But you know her. You know her through Alistair, all his stories. I’m sure she will love you, mijo.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he sighs and pats his pockets, checking for his wallet. “She’s Alistair’s teacher. I can’t just-“

“You can do whatever the hell you want, Mr. Lorenzano,” the woman chuckles and reassures him. “Go get her.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a conference, not a date,” he says as he walks towards the door.

“It can be both!” Is the last thing he hears before he shuts the door, making him laugh.

Conferences, as always, are a pain in the ass. You sit and make small talk with parents, discussing their child’s skills with their times table versus their writing proficiency, their standardized test scores and how they stack up.

As the night passes, you grow more frazzled. Your hair, neatly tucked back, falls out in strands, and your glasses seem to slide down your nose more and more often. Some parents verbally abuse you for their children’s poor scores on their science test. Others try to get to know you a little too personally. All part of a day’s work.

A hopeful smile dares to peek out as you read your schedule and arrange your sampling of Alistair’s works. You’re eager to meet his father, to meet the man Alistair so rarely talks about but clearly adores.

There’s a knock on your classroom door at 7:30 on the dot. Shoving your glasses up your nose one time, you hurry to the door and allow the man in. “Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Lorenzano,” you tell him and shake his hand, leading him to your desk.

Something about him seems familiar. He’s very attractive, that’s something. He doesn’t have his son’s dark, nearly black hair, but rather a light brown with bits of blonde interjected throughout. He has his son’s deep brown eyes, and his very presence makes you smile. He looks put together, dressed similarly to other fathers you’ve seen tonight.

You tuck your skirt under you as you sit in your chair. The man’s voice is smooth and beautiful as he speaks. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Alistair talks endlessly about you at home.”

Smiling, you shuffle some of his papers. The man is distractingly handsome, you find as you scramble to grab Alistair’s math test. “Well, he’s a very special kid. I adore having him in my class, truly. Your son is going places, Mr. Lorenzano.”

“Please, Max,” he shakes his head, producing something from a pocket. “Oh, and… for you.”

The sight makes you nearly laugh, but instead you break into a grin. The man’s large hand holds a shiny red apple, perfectly shaped. “Thank you,” you laugh and set it on your desk. “You know, I have no idea where that silly custom comes from.”

“I should ask Alistair,” Maxwell chuckles, his face heating as he takes in the beauty of your smile. “He knows so much. It wouldn’t be a stretch for him to know that.”

Nodding, you hand over an assortment of Alistair’s schoolwork and artwork. “He really does. I appreciate having a fellow avid reader in my class. He’s so bright, it’s… wild, really. Do you or… Mrs. Lorenzano,” you say, treading lightly, “do anything supplementary that advances his learning?”

Max looks down at the papers. “Well, she isn’t Mrs. Lor- Lorenzano anymore,” he shakes his head, his eyes not meeting yours for a moment. He stumbles, nearly using his former business name of Lord. “But no. I have nearly full custody of Alistair, and he flies through books. It’s absurd,” the man laughs, his pride in his eyes as he looks at you. “I mean, neither of us were ever as smart as this. I don’t know where he got it from.”

You frown at that. “You seem very smart, Max. May I ask what you do for a living?”

His brow furrows. “Alistair hasn’t told you?”

You shake your head, adjusting your glasses. God, Maxwell wants to do that for you, push them up your nose or better yet, take them off and kiss you deeply. “I don’t push kids to talk about their home lives. Some don’t want to share,” you shrug.

“I wish I would’ve had a teacher like you in my day,” he chuckles sadly. “I... well, I work currently for a corporate office in Arlington. It’s nothing very exciting, or anything that requires skill.”

You shrug, smiling a little. “It must be an important job or they wouldn’t pay you to do it.”

His chuckle is a little more upbeat. “I suppose. I just… my family was very poor when I was a child. I don’t want Alistair to feel ashamed that I don’t make as much money as his other classmates. Tell me, he doesn’t seem very social. Is he…?”

You want to phrase it properly, so you stutter for a moment. “Well, to put it plainly, no. Alistair does not talk much with his classmates. He’s a very quiet boy, as I’m sure you know. It’s not that they ostracize him, but rather that he chooses to be alone. He’s always reading rather than playing soccer or whatever,” you shrug. “It’s most certainly not exclusion on the basis of… having less money.”

Maxwell’s shoulders relax a little. “Well, I’m glad. Honestly, I don’t mind that he’s quiet. I’m glad he’s learning.”

“I’d usually disagree, but I have to say the same,” you chuckle. “He’s a really good kid, Max. You should be proud to have him as a son. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s my favorite student.”

He’s absolutely beaming with pride. “That’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”

“Of course! How could I not love that kid?” you chuckle as you admire a drawing Alistair made of a scene from his favorite book. “Was that all you wanted to talk about?” You ask, unsure if he had more concerns.

Maxwell’s almost startled by the question. “Oh! Yes, I got sidetracked,” he chuckles, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He’s painfully beautiful, and his laugh makes you laugh in return. It’s safe to say you really like the Lorenzano family. “He just goes through book after book, it’s endless. Do you have any recommendations for continued reading? I want him to keep going like this, truly.”

Tapping a pen against your gradebook, you think on it for a moment. “I guess the best way would be positive reinforcement, but not reward. If you, say, incentivized it, he might see it as a chore to earn the money or toy or whatever.”

Maxwell nods as he listens, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice and intellect. Yes, his theory earlier was correct. He does have a crush on you. “Naturally.”

“So, my recommended course of action would really just be praise and support. Tell him you’re proud of him. Offer to take him to the library to pick out some more. Those little things mean more to a kid than we can know.”

Max does know, actually. He knows because he was deprived of them as a child, because he tries to use them as often as he can so Alistair never feels the way he felt. “I can most definitely do that.”

“Great,” you nod, fidgeting with the stem of the apple in front of you. “If he ever wants to do more math or puzzles or such, the library has lots of great resources for that as well. I also have lots of worksheets I could send home with him.”

“If I can tear him away from that book,” Maxwell chuckles. “Do you have any favorites? You mentioned you read a lot.”

“Oh, god,” you laugh, and Maxwell is enchanted by the sound. “There are too many options! My favorite book of all time would probably have to be the Great Gatsby. I love the classics.”

Maxwell’s smile turns bittersweet. Jay Gatsby’s life reminds him far too much of his own for comfort now. Before, he’d call himself a Gatsby in reference to lavish parties and living large. Now, he feels like Gatsby dead in the water. “Wonderful book,” he nods. “F. Scott Fitzgerald is a literary mastermind.”

“Do you read too?” You ask, intrigued. His personality shows more and more and you’re desperate for even more of it.

He shakes his head. “Not as much as Alistair, I’m afraid, but when I have the time.”

You grin. “My plans for tonight are to go home and read with some takeout. No one to disturb me or anything. I’m very much a homebody, so it’s usually just me and my gradebook and my houseplants. Takeout is the most excitement I get. I’m looking forward to working through this book though; I’m currently reading Wilde.”

“Ah, what book?”

“Picture of Dorian Gray,” you smile and look down at your tote bag with the book tucked into the side. “If I have any brainpower left. Most of these conferences are energy-suckers.”

“How many do you have left?” He asks, curious.

“You’re the last of the night, actually,” you chuckle and cross your arms on the desk, looking over at him and silently hoping he reads your interest.

“The night you have planned sounds lovely, I must say,” Maxwell chuckles. “I do love takeout, but I know of a wonderful place near here. I… we could go get dinner, if you’d like.”

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose to push your glasses back up. “That sounds wonderful, Max. It’s nice to converse with someone who isn’t 9 years old for a while. And someone so interesting,” you openly flirt now that you can tell he’s picking up on your messages.

“Me? Hardly,” he shakes his head and laughs. “I’m sure you have much more fascinating stories than me.”

“I am a third grade teacher, Max,” you laugh. “If you want stories that involve boogers, the ever-present cooties, and long division, I’m your gal, but it hardly extends past that.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out. Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it,” you grin. “Does that mean wine?”

“Always,” Maxwell says in a mockingly offended voice, as if you’d even dare to ask such a thing, with a look of disgust.

“Thank fucking god,” you laugh before clapping a hand over your mouth. “Oh shit. Oh-“ you wince as you try to cover your curse with another curse. “Sorry. When school hours are out, I can’t hold back any longer.”

“No need to,” he assures you. “A woman like you could do whatever she wants and I’d be happy to just be in her presence.”

“Mr. Lorenzano,” you tease. “This is a parent-teacher conference!”

“Then let’s head to dinner and continue this in a nonprofessional capacity, shall we?” He asks, standing and pushing back his rolling chair.

“That sounds great,” you smile. Alistair’s father sure is something. Yes, you certainly like the Lorenzano family.

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harrysgloves · 4 years ago

Text

Three’s Company (part 2)

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

>>>PART ONE<<<

Story Summary: You deal with your breakup.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Language // Angst // Pretty sure I made the reader an alcoholic // oh and you know smut!! YEAH bet you didn’t think you were getting makeup sex but oh you are. (threesome so proceed with caution, thanks)

Authors Note: I got carried away... but don’t we all when it comes to them? Anyways, feedback is always wanted and deeply loved. Hope you you guys like it!! xx

>>>

"Is this color too moody?" You asked your neighbors cat that was lounging in your living room.

The midnight black ball of fur lazily blinked open his eyes long enough to croak out a "meow" before going back to sleep. Your head nodded in agreement as your 5th beer bottle of the day pressed against your lips.

"No, you're right. It's allowed to be moody." You agreed with the very large, very old, cat who always wandered over to your apartment. His owner, Ms. Thompson, gladly let you babysit him for a few days after she came to your door to find him the first night. Your blood shot, tear filled eyes when you answered the door, fully gave away the fact you'd been crying for the last few hours.

A bowl of Tupperware with hot chicken noodle soup laid on your doorstep the next morning along with the first gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

It had been four days since your break up with Harry and Florence. Four days of sleepless nights, alcohol filled days, and meaningless activities to keep your mind off how you were feeling.

Four vases of flowers that you couldn't bring yourself to throw away sat on your cluttered counter. The delicate petals were starting to turn brown around the edges from your lack of care. The notes on each one seemed to glare at you everytime you walked to your fridge to grab another drink.

Each one a variation of, "I'm so sorry. -H"

"When we broke up it was for totally different reasons. I wanted to raise the kids Jewish; you wanted to sleep with men." Debra Messings' voice and the horrible laugh track of 'Will and Grace' filled your lonely apartment. Your comfort show played on repeat. The same jokes, the same voices, the same fucking void in your heart.

It'd be four days and you felt like you were a second away from losing mind.

And sure, maybe, you could have called them. You could have said you overreacted and that you messed up so badly. Instant regret hit you as soon as you had walked out his door.

You'd get over it, get over them but it didn't seem to be as easy as you originally thought.

Everything reminded you of them.

"Love this one." Harry said the last time he'd spend the night with you. Your favorite record played softly in the background when he placed the needle down on it.

"Oh, this is one of my favorite episodes!" Flor cheered as she ran out of your kitchen to the living room at the sound of a 'Friends' episode starting.

"Got yeh this when I was out today." Harry handed you a dumb pen holder. A small Julius Caesar that had pens jetting out of his back.

"Take this before you freeze." Florence mumbled as she moved your blanket slightly off Harry and towards you while you all cuddled in your bed.

Everything that reminded you of them had been boxed off, separated, put away somewhere else until you could look at it again. You were left in an almost barren house that no longer felt like a home, with a cat, that wasn't even yours, sleeping on your coffee table that was littered with empty beer bottles. All while you drunkenly painted your walls at 2 in the afternoon.

How did shit get this bad?

The sound of a knock at your door called you out of your mind. An instant sinking feeling started in your chest as you walked across the floor. The wave of alcohol that ran through your system calmed some of the nerves but not all of them.

They wouldn't show up here, right?

You could feel the sweat starting on your hand as it rested on the doorknob. Another knock came from the other side of the door made you jump in your skin.

"You haven't answered your phone in four days! Open up!" One of your brothers yelled from the hallway as his fist pounded on your door. You rolled your eyes as you stood there debating if you could avoid him. Your plan to stay as quiet as possible quickly went to shit.

"Y/N, do not make me call dad." Your other brother, the one who's slightly fucking scary, voice boomed through your door like it wasn't even there.

You threw your door open to the absolute shit show that was your family. All four dumbass brothers stood outside of your apartment door. All four let out a simultaneous sigh of relief before walking into your very messy apartment.

"Jesus." Jason, the youngest, breathed out when the smell of alcohol hit him right in the face. His nose scrunched as his worried eyes flashed over the room.

"Did you drink an entire liquor store?" Tommy, the one you were closest to, asked as he scanned the damage done to your living room and what the hell you'd been doing to your liver the last four days.

"Shut up." You mumbled as you sat down on the floor, the couch was deemed unusable by you until further notice. Way, way, too many memories on that dumb thing.

Raphael's lips pursed as he studied the new living room color. He didn't even bother to hide the fact he was judging your meltdown as he turned to you.

You two were the closest in age. You were only 6 months older, and were both adopted at the same time. It definitely didn't make getting along as children necessarily easy. The both of you butted heads so much the other 3 acted more like referees than siblings. Which is why the room seemed to shift dramatically as he turned to you.

"So, you stonewall your way out of a relationship and then ignore everyone who checks on you?"

"Here we fucking go." Jack, the middle child and probably the most sensible brother groaned as he sat down cross-legged on the floor. His head rested in his hand as he stroked Marshmallow's black fur.

"Hey! We said we weren't going to bring you if you started a fight." Tommy snapped right before Jason interrupted.

"He has a point, Tomás."

"Like you haven't had your heartbroken."

"She's the one in the wrong!"

"No she isn't!"

"You can't defend her forever. She has to own up to her shit."

You groaned, your head laid back as you listened to them argue about you, right in front of you.

There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to deal with this.

"Get out." You said as you stood from your place on the floor, all eyes darted to you as you demanded for your own space.

"Wait, what?" Tommy asked as the rest of them looked at you like you had magically grown three heads.

"I said, get out. I'm not listening to this. You guys want to fight, go to dad's." You opened your front door, held it wide open for all of them to filter out. Each one gave a sad or sympathetic smile as they left.

"Y/N, I think you should really give them anoth-" Jack tried to reason with you before you shut the front door, hard. The slam echoed through your now quiet apartment as you stood there yet again, alone.

>>>

Your hooded eyes stared at the same spot on your ceiling. Your back rested on the cold hardwood floor of your wrecked living room. Your head swam with a fuzziness that only happens when you spend too many days on a bender.

You were fucked and your heart, your soul, hurt in a way you didn't think was possible.

You could feel the prick of tears starting again in your eyes as your mind ran over everything. The good times, the bad, the moment you wished you could take back.

Why did you leave that damn house? You could have at least let him explain.

You sighed as you sat up. The uncomfortable feeling of the room spinning only got worse as you shifted forward to grab the drink you'd poured earlier. The glass pressed against your dried out lips as the same laugh reel ran in the background.

Was this your life now? You wondered as you sat on that cold floor of your apartment. You used to be okay with nights like these. You used to be fine being alone.

Now, the silence felt like a stab to the gut.

Your phone that laid on the table vibrated non-stop. The worried texts of people who loved you flooded your phone, you were worried about you too but you couldn't admit it.

Why did this hurt so bad?

Was it because you'd never experienced a loss like this before?

Or was it because deep down, shut away in the corner of your mind you dared to never go to, you knew exactly how you felt about them? And it scared the shit out of you.

You gulped down the rest of your drink. Not wanting to begin the vicious cycle of why you were so quick to give up on them. Why you were so determined to leave before any explanation could be given.

Fucking hell, you needed therapy.

Your shaky legs walked over to the TV, turning off the reruns. Your glass placed on the edge of your coffee table as you made your way to your bathroom. A hot shower would always fix everything.

The stream of warm water pounded against your back as you sat in your bathtub. Your mind fluttered around the idea of taking a job that required you to permanently leave the country for a while. Maybe you could fall in love with a nice coast side in Italy or a small Cafe in France.

You didn't notice the sound of your front door opening or the footsteps in your apartment. Your eyes were already so heavy. The steam of the shower only made the low lullaby of sleeper louder in your mind.

Sleep and everything will be better.

>>>

You woke up the next morning in your bed. The bright sun burned your eyes as you blinked away the foggy feeling of sleep that still lingered around you. Your brain felt like a pile of mush as you reached for the bottle of water you kept on your side table.

How did you even get to bed?

The last few days had blurred together into a muddy picture. Everything jumbled together; drinks, painting, TV, organizing your kitchen, looking at apartments in foreign countries online.

"Morning!" Your brother chirped happily as he walked into your room.

You could have literally jumped out of your skin. You screamed, loudly, almost falling out of the bed.

"What the fuck!"

"I came back last night and you were asleep in the shower!" He said like you were the dumb one. "A thank you would be nice."

"Why are you in my apartment?" You asked, but only received the blankest of stares back. You knew why he was here. "I don't want to hear it."

"Too bad. Obviously, you need to hear it 'cause your apartment smells like a bar and you haven't talked to anyone in almost a week." He shrugged as he sat on the edge of your bed. The black ball of fur you'd eventually have to give back to your neighbor wasn't far behind him. Small black paws circled around you before he found a place to sleep comfortably.

"This sucks." You mumbled after a bit of silence. You could tell Jack didn't want to push you. Usually, this was a thing Tommy would handle but for some reason, the tribe had sacrificed Jack to be the emotional voice of reason this time.

"You know," he said as his hand ran through Marshmallow's fur. His teeth bit the inside of his lip as he debated what to say for a second before continuing. "you could just admit you were in the wrong and go apologize. I mean, you clearly fucking regret it."

"I don't." You answered so quickly even Marshmallow didn't believe you. His green eyes stared in lazy disbelief. "I mean I do but… I don't know, Jack. It's weird 'cause I'm so sad but… what if this never gets better? What if it's always like this? Like, we're always struggling to be a normal couple?"

"You're not a normal couple so why would you try to act like one?"

Your eyes shot to his at the words that poured out of his mouth so carefully. You'd never thought of it that way before. Your brows furrowed as you stared back at the bed.

Was there a chance for you to make this work with them?

"Look, Y/N, relationships are fucking hard no matter what but you can't just… walk out on people before they get a chance to hurt you."

"I didn't."

"You did. It's kind of your thing, you know?" He smiled softly to you. Not condescending or in a know it all way, in the way only a sibling could without getting smacked. "Not that it doesn't make sense but if they made you happy, maybe you should try to hear their side of it."

"When did you become the smart brother?" You teased with that wide smile across your face.

"Right after I came out of the closet."

"Shut up." You said through a laugh. The first one you'd had in days. That weight that laid on your chest seemed to have lifted a small amount.

Maybe, just maybe, you could talk this through with them.

>>>

You stood on the same doorstep you angrily stormed across not even a week ago. The pink door that you used to love, suddenly felt like a door to the electric chair.

Maybe you couldn't do this.

You sighed, your eyes darting back to the old Camero you loved just a little too much. Arms crossed over your chest to keep you warm as you stood in your place. You knew you couldn't go back to your apartment this quickly without getting asked questions.

Raphael, Jack, Tomás, and Jason were all waiting for your post-breakup meltdown if this didn't go well. Each one said they'd stay with you on rotation shifts until you felt better if you needed it.

Which was sweet, but you kind of wanted to rot in silence and alcohol if this went as badly as you thought it was going to.

Your tongue grew thick as your stomach churned. Your eyes closed as you sighed heavily, your ass plopped down on his front steps, head rested in your hands.

You didn't know where to even start when it came to talking to them. Your feelings were hurt but you shouldn't have walked out without giving them a chance to explain. You didn't want to feel like the odd man out but didn't want to broadcast your relationship.

The whole thing was messy and complicated. You wished so hard that it'd be easy. That talking about what you felt would be easy.

But you knew it wasn't, it never was, at least not for you. You shoved all your emotions down and kept chugging along your whole life. You pretended everything was fine, even when it wasn't. Which was exactly what ended you up here in the first place.

If you would have told them sooner they would have ended the PR shit.

"Hi." The thick accent from behind you startled your thoughts for a second but you didn't turn around. Your fingers messed with the edge of the rip in your jeans as your eyes focused on the crack in his sidewalk.

"Hi." You said quietly after what felt like a full minute of silence. You heard him let out a small sigh, his feet shuffled forward until he sat down quietly beside you.

You tried to not look at him, knowing if you did you'd burst out into tears. So you stayed focused on the ground, the dead leaves that floated along the road, the grass that was getting crunchy from the cold weather.

"Y/N, 'M-" he started but you waved your hand to get him to stop. Your head rested against his shoulder that tensed up from your touch.

You didn't want to talk for a second, just a second. You breathed in the familiar smell of him, the cologne he always wore was faint on his skin. The sleep shirt he wore was your favorite, you realized. The blue sweatshirt always made his eyes look so beautiful.

"I missed you." You said into his shoulder. Your lips brushed against the soft fabric as you spoke.

"'M missed yeh too." His voice cracked as he rested his cheek against the top of your head. His fingers laced through yours as you moved closer into the warmth of him. "Flor's inside if y'wanna talk."

You sighed, you knew you needed to talk, knew you had to talk about it. You just didn't want to. The feel of him being close to you again, the intoxicating smell of him near.

Your head lifted from his sweatshirt, only to see how rough he'd been doing himself the last few days. His bloodshot green eyes had large bags under them. His scruff on his face, messy brown curls. He'd done just as bad as you.

You only caught sight of his lips for a second before saying fuck it. Talking could happen later, you'd missed him so much.

Your lips pressed against his with a force that knocked him backwards for a second but you didn't care. No, this was the most "at home" you'd felt in days.

He felt like home.

His lips molded to yours so perfectly, once he got a hold of himself. His hand slipped to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him.

Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest as your lips parted, welcoming him back.

He pulled you up with him. His hands around your waist, lips still connected with yours as he walked the pair of you inside.

You wished you could slow down the moment. The way he was holding you tightly to him, like he never wanted to let you go again. The fleeting feelings ran through your mind but they all ended the same way.

You fucking loved him, so much.

All your energy was going into not crying from your surge of emotions. The rush of adrenaline was intoxicating, your shaky hands danced in the messy tangle of his unkempt brown curls as you tried to hold onto that shred of sanity you had left.

"I missed you." You breathed out when you came up for air. His forehead pressed against yours, his body crowded yours to the wall. "God, I fucking missed you."

He chuckled, a slight smile on his now swollen lips but you couldn't help it. It was the only thing your brain could come up with besides how sorry you were for not giving him a chance to explain.

"Miss me any?" Her voice made you look around Harry. Her arms crossed over her chest but that hint of a smile smoothed across her lips as she leaned on the doorway that led to the entry.

"Wanna see how much I missed you both?"

>>>

Maybe this wasn't necessarily the healthiest way to deal with your problems as a couple. But at this moment you could have cared less what a therapist would say about your tendency to avoid things that were important.

You laid on your back, your legs wide open, toes digging into the mattress as Florence's tongue pressed a wide thick lick through your folds. Circling around your bundle of nerves before slipping into you.

You would have moaned out loud, if it wasn't for the dick rammed down your throat. Your head laid off the side of the bed, your vision upside down as Harry's pulsating member slid down your open and waiting mouth. His hand around your neck, squeezing himself.

"Missed fuckin' yeh throat, pup." He groaned out as his hips snapped against your spit soaked face. He backed out long enough for you to catch your breath before shoving his way back in. Your abused throat would hate you for this in the morning but right now you didn't care.

"Feel good, baby?" Flor asked as her finger curved inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that always made your eyes roll back. She didn't have to ask if it felt good, she knew it did, she just wanted the bragging rights of who gave you the better orgasm of the night.

Harry's member pulled out of your throat. You tried your best to catch your breath as he crouched down to your level. His hands doing the best they could to wipe away all the saliva that ran down your cheeks. Playful green eyes met yours.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" He asked even though he really didn't need to. The sound of your moans alone was enough to tell you were close.

"Mhm." Was all you managed to get out, your hands threaded through Florence hair as her mouth joined her fingers. Your eyes closed as you got closer to your high, your skin raised in goosebumps as she did that fucking flicking, swirl, of her tongue that always did you in.

"Good, 'm gonna make you cum harder than that." Harry's words faded in your mind as that crashing sensation washed you away.

Florence scoffed as her head lifted from between your legs. The back of her hand wiped your juices away as she rolled her eyes at Harry.

"Good fucking luck trying to top that one."

"Guys," you groaned, your hand over your eyes. "Supposed to be makeup sex, not a competition."

"Can be both." Harry mumbled under his breath, quietly, but you still caught it. Your eyes glared at him as you turned around on the bed.

"Shut up." You mumbled as you reached forward, your hands around his neck as you brought him up to your level. Your mouth enveloped his quickly to stop the argument.

You pulled him onto the bed with you two. His knees hitting the edge before climbing up the rest of the way as your tongue took control of this kiss. It didn't happen often but when it did you ran with the opportunity. His mouth following your lead until you pulled away slightly, your teeth catching his bottom lip softly causing him to moan.

"Fuck," he cursed as you pulled away that sweet smile on your face like you didn't know that he loved that.

Florence came behind the pair of you, her lips pressed against your shoulder, up your neck, small love bites left here and there before she took the chance to kiss you when Harry pulled away. Her hands pulled on your waist, tugging you down to the bed to lay on your back.

"Ready?" She asked as Harry stroked himself, the nod of your head was all he needed to hoist your legs up. His pulsing tip ran through your folds as you reached for Florence, your arms wrapped around her thighs as you pulled her down on your mouth.

Harry continued to tease your opening. His tip slipping in and out of you easily as your tongue ran rapid through Florence's pussy. Her wetness was almost to the point of dripping down your face. You groaned as you pulled her by her thighs down harder onto you as your tongue circled into her hole. Fuck, you missed her taste.

You heard the sounds of their kissing, her moans, before he finally pushed his way into you. Your walls clinging around him immediately, pulling him closer into you, making him hiss lowly.

"Jesus, she always so fuckin' tight." His hands embedded themselves into your thighs as he held you open for him. His fingers pulled back the lips of your pussy briefly before you felt Florence shift forward, her core off your mouth as her tongue circled your clit.

Your loud, unabashed moans filled the room. Your mind clouded with nothing but desire and lust, barely functioning at all. Thoughts weren't making sense, you were going based on instinct when your fingers slipped into her cunt that was inches in front of your face.

Harry's grunt and groans as he fucked into your tight cave halted for a moment, his erection pulled out of you briefly. The unmistakable sounds of your girlfriend choking on your boyfriends cock filled the room.

You moaned at the sound, your core clenched as your fingers finally twisted into the right angle. Her velvet walls pulled you in as she tried her best to keep breathing around Harry's thick member.

"Fuck, keep doing that." He panted, accent thick, voice deep with pleasure as you hit that spot in her again. A flood of her arousal coated your fingers as she let out another loud moan, her body slacked on top of you as Harry pulled out of her throat.

You weren't prepared for when he thrusted himself back into you. Your moan cracked as you gripped tightly onto Florence's thighs.

"Told yeh I was gonna make you cum harder." He mumbled as Florence let out a laugh. She rolled over to lay beside you, her lips lazily kissing yours the best they could through Harry's rough thrusts into you.

"Make her cum harder than I did and you can cuddle her tonight." Florence smirked, her hands ran over your hair as you pouted.

"Deal."

"Hey! I wanted to cuddle both of you." Your head shot off the bed as you glared at the both of them, who were both very very clearly taking their competition too far.

Leave them alone for four days and you come back to them acting like children.

"Tomorrow night, sweetheart. I got somethin' prove." Harry smiled as he leaned down to you, his lips capturing yours before you could protest, a roll of his hips had you moaning.

Maybe this bet wasn't that bad.

"Yeah, proving I'm better." Florence scoffed again, adding fuel to the fire as her hand leisurely traveled between her legs. A soft moan passed through her lips as Harry basically growled at her through his teeth.

You rolled your eyes at her as she gave you a shrug and a smile. His length pulled out of you again as he lifted you up, switching you over to be on top of him.

He was pushed back into you in less than a second, his hands grasping the round flesh of your ass tightly as he leaned you forward into his chest. His legs pushed himself upwards, hitting your sweet spot every single time.

You were thankful he pulled you into his chest. Your moans rolled easily as his hands dug deeper into your skin, you were teetering on the edge with in minutes. His gruff groans as his sensitive pulsating member pushed into you only added fuel to the fire.

"Come 'ere, baby." He said as he slowed down his punishing pace his hand left your bum, fingers slipped into Florence's mouth for only a few seconds before finding their way back to you.

The pressure from his finger prodding into your back hole had your eyes rolling in the back of your head. The deep, low, sound that resonated in the bottom of your chest had a smug grin on Harry's face.

He knew he'd won.

His finger and along with his cock fucked into you until you could hardly register your own name. You could feel your heart beating in your core, your nipples so sensitive you could barely stand to have them brush against his own chest.

Harry hummed as you seemed to lose yourself in the feeling of your mounting high. Florence's hand between her legs, stroking herself faster as her lips pressed to Harry's.

You felt a pressure in your stomach you'd never felt before, building and building, ready to bust any second. You didn't even have time to warn him when you felt the dam release. Your head floated in the clouds as your juices ran down him, soaking the bed.

"Well, fuck, I've never made her do that." Florence mumbled after Harry's final thrust into you. His gloating laugh filled the room as you laid limp.

"Told yeh so." He cooed as his hand ran down your back in soothing circles. Florence kissed softly on your shoulder, your arm, wherever until your eyes finally focused on her.

"You okay?" She asked as she brushed away the hair that was stuck to your face.

"Mhm, wanna sleep." You whined, your head pressed into Harry's shoulder tightly as you felt him soften inside of you. Your hips shifted to move off him but his hand quickly pressed your ass down again.

"Go to sleep, darlin'." He kissed the top of your head before he nuzzled into your. Florence arm wrapped around the both of you as Harry opened one arm for her to cuddle into his side.

>>>

"Mornin', sweetheart." Harry hummed as he rounded the corner to his kitchen. A quick kiss placed on Florence's lips before he picked up the cup of tea she already had made for him.

"Morning." She mumbled into her cup. Her legs pulled up beside her as she sat on the counter.

"Wot's wrong?" He paused before taking a sip, his eyes studying her as she sighed.

"It's just…" she stared at the coffee pot that hadn't been used in a week. The steaming brown liquid dripped into the vessel below it. She sighed, shaking her head. "I woke up this morning and the first thing I did was make sure she didn't leave again."

Harry's eyes softened, his hand ran through her hair, lips pressed to her forehead. Trying his best to comfort her which is what he tried, and usually failed, at doing all week long.

"We'll talk to her, okay?"

Flor nodded her head, her lips pressed to his one last time as they heard the door to the bedroom creak open. A shirt you'd taken out of Harry's closet hit your knees as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

"Morning." You said as you gave both of them a kiss, your eyes more trained to the pot of delicious coffee than either one of their faces.

"Y/N?" Florence asked as you poured your first cup, the smell wafting into your senses had your knees almost buckling.

"Yeah, baby?" You asked without turning around. The glass pressed to your swollen lips from all of last nights kissing, the warm mug felt like a relief to them.

"Can, uhm," she started, you finally turned around to see her looking uncomfortable. Her tongue wet her lips, eyes glanced to Harry before she continued. "can we talk, you know… about everything now?"

"Right, yeah of course, we should… just-" You could feel the nerves pit in your stomach growing as you nodded towards the table. The three of you sat in your usual chairs, your usual mugs in your hands, but it wasn't an usual morning.

No, now you actually had to talk about what was bothering you.

"Right." Harry said, hoping to get the conversation started with already but the room was dead silent.

"Right." You repeated mostly to fill the awkward silence that was growing thicker in the room by the second. You could feel your ears rushing, the room was so quiet. No TV to drown out the weird atmosphere, no music to cover up the fact you had to talk about what happened.

"So, I guess 'm gonna start." Harry said after he glanced at the both of you two, seeing he was going to have to get the ball rolling on this whole thing.

"Yeh know 'm really, really, sorry 'bout the Gemma stuff. I was gonna tell her the next week after the last interview but she decided to come in early and surprise me." Your lips rolled in your mouth as you listened to him. You knew the whole time you sat in your apartment, drunk, that a version of this was what happened. "And I didn't want yeh to get hurt and 'm so sorry it seemed like I was hiding yeh away from people."

You could feel the start of tears in your eyes. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down from a blubbering meltdown that was about to happen. Which you might have been able to avoid if his hand didn't wrap itself around yours from across the table.

"Just," you sighed, your hand squeezed his as you tried to wipe away the tears that rolled down your cheek. "Just, I should have said it was bothering me before it got to that point and I'm sorry I didn't and I blew up then walked out."

"It's okay." Florence said softly, her other hand laced through your free one. "But… maybe, we should agree to talk about stuff a bit more."

"Yeah, think that would probably be good." Harry agreed as he scooted forward in his chair, his hand wiped away the rest of your tears. "So, yeh gonna stay, right?"

You smiled up to him, your hand laced tighter through Florence's fingers as you nodded your head.

Yeah, you think you'd stay with them.

435 notes · View notes

rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing.

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin. It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #georgie barker #rosie zampano #tma rosie #tim stoker #meet cute #blind date au #this is my love letter to TMA #prompt answer #fanfic prompt

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loudstan · 4 years ago

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Epiphany

A collection of NCT werewolf AU stories.

Doyoung (pt.1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4) (pt.5)

Summary: The wolf population kept decreasing and those who were left had a hard time trying to fit into society. Sure, people didn’t consider them as dangerous as vampires, but wolves could still sense some hostility every time they did as much as go for a walk in a public place. Thanks to wolves’ natural magical abilities, NCT (one of the remaining packs) found a safe place among witches in a town where no one knew their secret, allowing some members to finally get a job, study and interact with others without fear of being rejected.

Life seems to finally be peaceful for them… except that wolves have needs, and one of those needs is finding their mate.

Pairing: Werewolf! Doyoung x Witch! female reader

Warnings: Eventual smut, Doyoung being stubborn.

Doyoung’s schedule is incredibly tight. After he wakes up, he goes for a quick run, takes a shower, helps Taeyong wake up the rest of the pack and proceeds to prepare breakfast along with the oldest members all before seven in the morning. And that is just the beginning; on his way to class he goes over what he studied the night before (until 3 A.M), stops to buy a big cup of coffee and starts his busy day as a student.

He was majoring in Magic Law because, as he said, he was good at arguing and lawyers made good money. Following a strict routine and being as intelligent as he was, it didn’t surprise anyone when one of his professors asked him to be a teaching assistant when he was a sophomore. Now, during his final year, he accepted to continue with this job, since the payment was good enough to help provide for the pack. Truth be told, he always felt like he wasn’t doing enough. His original plan was to start working as soon as he graduated from high school, but Taeyong, leader of the pack, didn’t allow it, as he insisted education was important and he wouldn’t let Doyoung miss out because he wanted to help the pack.

He didn’t like being told what to do, but Doyoung knew better than defying his leader, so he accepted, but focused on being efficient and graduating as soon as possible to, finally, work full time and be one of the pack’s providers like Taeyong, Kun and Taeil.

I need to work harder.

He tried to concentrate on his notes but his vision was blurry. Thinking he was just tired, he drank the rest of his coffee and scanned his notes one more time while entering the classroom where he would be teaching a new group of freshmen. His heart was beating like crazy and his hands were shaking.

What’s wrong with me today?

He couldn’t be falling sick. He had no time for that.

“Are you okay?”

Doyoung looked up and saw a woman standing at the door, looking genuinely worried about him. He saw you.

His heart started beating even faster as the sweet aroma of peach and fresh grass surrounded him. He sighed and his pupils dilated as he stared right into your eyes, his fingers clutching the papers he was holding.

You looked at the young man in front of you. His frame trembling slightly, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and dark circles under a pair of beautiful piercing dark eyes. You felt your face warm up a little when you caught yourself shamelessly checking him out. Calm down Y/N. This is your first day, you can’t be falling for the first guy you see.

“Is this Mr Choi’s class?” you asked and looked around to confirm the classroom was completely empty. You had come extra early in case you got lost.

The man just glared at you, narrowing his eyes, he seemed to hate you already and you guessed you had probably fucked up in only five minutes.

“I apologise if I was impolite,” you said, not wanting to fail the subject because of a terrible first impression even though you weren’t sure what you did wrong. “I am-”

“My mate.” he growled.

“-a freshman law student…?” you finished your sentence with a confused whisper and then there was an awkward silence that you had no idea how to fill.

If you were getting nervous, then Doyoung was freaking out. He didn’t even have time to get enough sleep at night. How was he supposed to make time to have a mate?!

Having a mate also meant his wolf would want to start a family soon. Children were expensive. If he spent money on his own wife and children then he wouldn’t have enough to spend on his brothers. WIFE? Why was he thinking about marriage already?!

Concentrate. I need to concentrate. I’m panicking for no reason.She has no idea who I am and what is happening right now. If I just ignore this feeling it will go away. I can control this.

“Should I leave-?” you asked shyly as you stepped back after what felt like an eternity of silence.

“No,” he hissed and you stopped moving- you didn’t even dare to blink. “This is professor Choi’s class, but I’ll be in charge of today’s lesson.” He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply (which he knew was a big mistake once he took in your fragrance), and exhaled shakily only opening his eyes again when his breathing had calmed down. He looked at his notes again, like Foundations of Magic Constitutional Law was more appealing than burying his face between your legs and finally introduced himself.

“My name is Kim Doyoung, the TA for this class.”

#doyoung #kim doyoung #nct smut #nct imagines #nct doyoung #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #doyoung smut #kpop smut

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lazuli-bloom · 4 years ago

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Roses and Styx

Chapter 1 - An Inconvenient Attachment

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5365

Sure life wasn’t always easy, it had it’s ups and downs, but you were doing alright for yourself. Mostly. However when you find a strange sight while on your lunch break one autumn afternoon, your life gets all the more unusual.

Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

The sun beat down on you, unobstructed by a single cloud in the vibrant blue sky. A pleasant breeze wafted by, chilling the heat of the sun’s kiss. Summer was in its death throes, but stayed determined to linger as long as possible. It gave an odd contrast to the scenery. The blazing warmth of a summer sun illuminating the turning leaves and tombstones on that early October afternoon.

You sat on a stone bench enjoying your lunch in the quiet peace of the graveyard. Most people avoided visits to the cemetery, not wanting to keep the company of the dead. You, however, frequented it. With few visitors and lovely Gothic inspired architecture, the cemetery made a relaxing place for lunch breaks. Plus, it was only a short walk from your job.

While there were benches throughout the graveyard, your favorite spot was one off in the corner and closest to the gate. That day, however, there had been a funeral held in that corner of the cemetery. So as not to impose, you picked a different bench to occupy. You tried to not let your gaze stay fixed on the graveside service, but the task proved to be easier said than done. The funeral repeatedly pulled your attention back to it by partly virtue of being an event you’ve rarely seen.

Many people, dressed in black, all focused on one grave. Most of the figures standing there were adults, but among the crowd were children clinging onto parents. The group was too far to get a proper look at any of the mourners, but there was one that stuck out. A man, slightly broad in build, wore a peculiar striped suit with wide vertical bars in black and white. You noted the clothing choice as strange, but tried not to judge. Perhaps he wasn’t able to get a solid black suit on short notice.

The strange pattern of the suit made it easy to pick him out against the other mourners. He didn’t stay still. He moved around, seeming to want to get other’s attention only to be ignored. The man’s bizarre actions, coupled with the indifference of the crowd, were major reasons you kept glancing back to the funeral.

You shake your head and check your phone, almost two o’clock. Time to head back to work. You grab your trash and get up with a stretch. With one last glance back to the funeral, you find the striped suit man looking back your way. You pay him no mind and check your phone once more before heading to leave.

To wring the most time and relaxation out of your lunch, you amble back to the hardware store. You turn to the next street where brick shops sat side by side. On the corner was a shop with a rounded, sun-faded green awning stretched over most of the front facade. Your eye glanced over the printed “Rose Creek Hardware” in yellow letters for what must have been the millionth time.

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside. To your left an older mustached man stood behind the front counter. He wore a light blue button down under a green apron, both tight around his rounder stomach. He gave you a warm smile that you returned.

“Back from lunch already, Cass?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice out today, I can hardly believe it’s October already.”

“Hopefully, when I get the Halloween decorations up, it’ll give things a more autumn feel.”

“Can’t wait to see it, Mr. Turner! Oh, and is Sam still here? Or have they left already?”

“They’re still around. Sam was helping the new hire.”

You nod and make your way behind the counter to retrieve your apron. After you get the strings tied, you do a sweep of the store. You found Sam in the back corner pulling merchandise forward. They didn’t notice you straight away, so you softened your footsteps for your approach. You stayed at their back until they turned enough one way that you could slip around to their side and not get caught in Sam’s peripheral. Once close enough to the shelving yourself, you slap your hands down on a bare spot- “-Missed a spot!”

Sam seized up, grabbing the shelf for support. “Geez, dude! You trying to kill me?” A wide grin breaks across your face. You chuckle to yourself as Sam regained some composure. They took a breath, shot you a glare, and got back to work.

“Heard you were training the new guy.”

“Yeah, he left already.”

“What’s he like?”

“Eh. Kinda boring? White bread personified, if you ask me. Dude came in with a dress shirt and tie.”

You shrug and start helping pull forward items. While turning products to have labels front-facing you continue on with your conversation. “Sounds like all I’ll have left to talk to will be Mr. Turner.”

There was a pause in that moment, and a sting of sorrow poked at your heart. You do your best to smother the feeling and focus on your work. It’s better to cherish the moment. You force yourself to smile and keep your chat going.

“So, there was a funeral today-”

Sam groaned and rolled their eyes at you. “You went to that creepy graveyard again? How are you not haunted?”

“Hey! I told you, it’s close by and usually quiet. I enjoy taking my lunches there. Anyway, there was a funeral and one guy there was in a weird suit with black and white stripes. Kinda like the Hamburglar.”

“I swear. You’re a magnet for the weirdest shit. It’s all those shitty movies you watch that seep into your head. How the hell do you not get nightmares?”

You stay silent and look over the product in your hand as your mind wandered back to your most recent nightmare. Piercing blue dots masked in shadow, watching every move you made. You shake your head to dismiss the thought.

You huff out a small laugh. “Guess that stuff just doesn’t get to me.”

“Whatever. Just don’t let any of your weirdness rub off on my cat.”

You press your lips into a tight line and tap your finger against the pliers in hand. “You sure there isn’t anywhere else he can go?”

“Cassie, I already told you I checked.”

“I’m just worried. I don’t think this is a good idea. My apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

“It’s just for two weeks. I’ll pick him up on the sixteenth. Hell, that’s not even a full two weeks, just thirteen days. You’ll be fine.” Sam finished with their side of the aisle and took a step back. “When do you want me to drop him off?”

You breathe out through your nose and make a noise somewhere between a hum and a groan. “Seven should be alright. Donna’s always heads out to the bars on Saturdays, so it should be clear by then.”

“You need to lighten up and not worry so much. Maybe a cute roommate is exactly what you need.”

You don’t give a reply and go back to work. The two of you split off and start tackling other sections of the store. Time marched on, and all too soon, Sam’s last shift ended. Mr. Turner bid them a farewell with a handshake and handed Sam their last paycheck. You give them a small wave and focus back on your task. You knew full well you were going to see them later that night, so you didn’t see the point of having a drawn out goodbye right then.

Once Sam left, the rest of the day dragged on slower than a sloth on crutches. When there weren’t any customers needing help, you talked with Mr. Turner. It gave you something to do, sure, but time still crawled.

That day was one of the worst kinds you can have in retail. The kind that’s just slow enough you bored out of your mind, and peppered with enough customers that you couldn’t slack off and dick around on the store’s desktop. It’s like they coordinated to space themselves out to be the most annoying.

As grueling as it took to get there, five-thirty eventually rolled around. You and the boss took the last half hour to close the store. Sweep, wipe down the counters, count the till, all that good stuff. You were in the middle of dusting when Mr. Turner handed you an envelope. You thanked him and opened it to count the bills inside. Five whole Benjamins. With another thanks, you move the bills into your wallet and get back to dusting.

Once all finished, you headed out, followed by your boss. He locked the front door and walked with you around the side to the small parking lot. He hopped into his old pickup while you climbed into your little junker. The bucket of rust masquerading as a car was on its way out, but you planned on getting every mile out of it you could. Mr. Turner had driven off by the time you coaxed your car into starting. The car sputtered and hissed, but you got the clunker going.

The drive to your apartment complex was as mundane and silent as ever. Your only option for music was to sing it yourself, since the previous owner had beaten the hell out of the radio. CDs weren’t an option either as the owner before the last had stuffed the disc slot full of cookies. For what reason remained a mystery.

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel as you drove, watching familiar sites go by as you neared your apartment. Nicer well-kept buildings and streets slowly turned to the more rundown variety. The street grew more broken and in increasingly desperate need of repairs as you went.

Building after building, you passed by until finally it was time to turn off. You pull up to your complex’s parking lot, just as run down as the roads leading to it. Two buildings sat facing each other, both in contest for which one can be the most rundown. Your building nudged ahead of its twin with the recent addition of graffiti marring the exterior.

You park in your designated spot, managing to not bump up against the two cars encroaching on your space. You worm your way out without adding anymore dents to the black sedan, and head to the complex’s front door. Standing near the door with a cigarette between clawed yellowed fingers was a scrawny older woman with a perpetual sneer on her wrinkled face. Cold steel eyes narrowed at you as you dared to approach the harpy.

“Hi Donna. How are you?”

“Parker! Where’s the rest of your rent?”

You force a smile to mask the spike of irritation. This harpy is going to be the death of you. You clear your throat to help prevent your ire from bleeding out into your tone.

“Right here, Donna. I get my pay on Saturdays.”

“Not my problem. Rent is due in full on the first. Today is the third.”

“I tried paying you last Saturday, but you-”

“The first, you stupid child. Not Before. Not after.”

“Yes Donna, I know. I’m sorry, I needed to replace a flat tire an-.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just pay the rest of your rent and get out of my sight. You worthless leech, can’t even follow basic instructions.”

You press your lips into a tighter line to keep yourself from screaming at the horrid bat. It was best to bite your tongue and get the interaction over and done with as quick as you could. You pull out your wallet and hand over four bills. It was nice while it lasted.

Donna snatched the money from you and promptly counted it. Once satisfied, she took a long drag off her cigarette. She ordered you to leave while smoke seeped out of her mouth like a dragon.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You hurried off to your apartment, climbing the stairs to the second floor and making a beeline for your door at the end of the hall.

You shut the door, leaning against it and breathed out a deep breath. After calming yourself some, you set your keys on the counter by the door and step further into your little abode.

You make your way back to the small living room and crash on the dingy brown love-seat, tossing your phone onto the stained coffee table. You lean back and stare at the ceiling. A boring white painted over heavy popcorn texture, collecting all kinds of dust. You close your eyes and let your mind wander, wanting to squeeze some relaxation time out of the rest of the day. Too bad your phone rang.

Sam called to tell you they were on their way with the cat. You told them to be careful and not let Donna see them on the off chance that she hadn’t left for the bar yet. Sam, however, brushed aside your concerns and told you not to be so worried. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned at that. Sam wasn’t the one that had to deal with Donna and hopefully never will.

It wasn’t until a long while later that there was a knock at your front door. A quick check through the peephole showed you Sam was on the other side with a backpack and pet carrier. You open the door and hurry them inside. Sam stepped in, stopping in the space between the kitchen and living area, and looked over the place.

“Wow. This place is shitty.”

“Thanks, hadn’t noticed.”

Sam set the carrier down on your couch, and the cat inside growled in a low tone. Sam took off their backpack next and handed that one over to you.

“Here’s all of Rigel’s things; food, bowls, litter box, toys. I’ll be back in town to get the last of my stuff on the sixteenth, and I’ll pay you then.”

“I thought we agreed half now and half when you got back?”

“It’ll be easier to just pay you all at once.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh and let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. It will be nice to get two hundred dollars all at once.”

“See! You fuss over the smallest things.”

You change the topic by offering Sam something to drink but they declined. Sam still needed to pack up a few more boxes before the end of the night. You nod and give a small wave goodbye, only for Sam to pull you into a hug. Your muscles tense up, but you did your best to return Sam’s sudden hug.

There was a unique funk around Sam that made the hug even more challenging to bear. An overly strong lavender tried and failed to cover some mix of sweat and burnt coffee. Sam left shortly after, telling you to just call them should you need anything. You nodded and waved them off.

Once they left, you turn to Rigel stuck in his carrier. His hissing got louder the closer you got to the carrier, and was full on slashing at the front when you reached down to open it.

You recoil and let him be for the moment, choosing to set up his things in the bathroom instead. While your bathroom was on the smaller side, it seemed big enough for one cat to stay in. You pack up all the various toiletries that a bored cat might knock down and set out Rigel’s things. Litter box in the corner across from the shower stall, while his food and water were against the opposite wall between the door and the sink.

With that set up you go get the carrier. You did your best not to jostle it too much, but Rigel wasn’t pleased and let you know. He let out some of the most chilling demonic screeches as he knocked against the fabric carrier, desperate to break loose and slaughter you. You set the carrier down in the closet, closing one of the bi-fold doors so he had a dark corner to hide in. You braced yourself with a few steadying breaths before swiftly unzipping the front. Once open, you pull your hand back and leave the bathroom completely, making sure the door shut behind you.

You did your best to salvage the rest of your night, enjoying your cup of noodles while watching a movie. It was a B-Movie slasher about a supernatural being going on a killing spree in Las Vegas. And this somehow led to the being going to space in the next film. Overall, it was pretty cheesy, but got a few laughs from you.

Soon you had to wrap things up and head to bed. You sneak into the bathroom to swipe your toothbrush and clean them at the kitchen sink that night, and probably for the next two weeks. With a yawn and a stretch you change into sleepwear and crawl into your bed.

Sleep didn’t come to you easily, but it wasn’t a night full of endless tossing and turning, either. The rest you got didn’t feel like enough, as the buzzing of your alarm woke you too early for your liking.

You sat up rubbing your eyes and checked your phone for the time. The small screen on the back of the thin flip phone showed the time was seven o’ two. You heave out a sigh and pull the warm covers off.

While your body went through the motions of your morning routine, your mind wandered back to the images you saw in your dream. An island floated in the middle of a dark ocean with storm clouds rumbling high above. The cold wet sand pricked against your bare feet like needles, yet you kept on walking. You had found yourself on a rickety dock at least fifteen feet above the violent waves below. There was nothing around you, but you knew you weren’t alone. Down below, lurking beneath the water, two hungry orbs of blue glared up at you, waiting. Expecting. When you didn’t move from your perch, the beast thrashed at the pillars of the dock. You lost your footing and tumbled down to the abyss.

You shook your head, forcing your thoughts to jump back to the present. Chills ran down your spine as the nightmare crawled around in the back of your mind, clawing its way forward. You stuffed it as far back as possible and carried on with your morning.

You soon were out the door and on your way to work. You grip the toilet paper wrapped over your forearm, letting the lines of blood soak into it so it can better rest on your arm. Rigel had given you a few nasty scratches when you got him fresh water, the ungrateful bastard. At least there’s a first aid kit at work.

The bell above the door chimed as you looked at the time on your phone. The damn cat almost made you late for work. You make your way to the back room to grab your apron, only to bump into a man turning the corner. It took a second to get your bearings and notice you ran right into Mr. Turner.

“Oh shit. Sorry, sir.”

He laughed and waved you off. “Morning Cass, see you’re in a hurry.”

“Ah- no, well, kinda. I hit every red light getting here and-”

“You’re fine, don’t worry. No need to rush. Just get your apron and I’ll introduce you to the new guy.”

You nod and scurry back to grab the green apron. It hung by itself on the hooks, speckled in paint and smudges. By that point the thing was overdue to get tossed and replaced, but the same thing would end up happening to the next apron.

You throw it on and tie it behind yourself before going out to the sales floor. Mr. Turner stood next to a man younger than himself but older than you. The boss was the first to notice you and gave another wave. “There they are.”

The new guy turned and flashed you a wide smile, showing off straight white teeth in a hollow smile. Tamping down the disquiet, you force yourself to offer a smile in return. The man strode up to you and held out a hand. “Great to meet you, I’m Brandon! Mr. Turner was just telling me how great of a worker you are-” He squinted at your apron before going back to that fake smile- “Art. Interesting name.”

“Thanks,” you said, and hesitated a moment before taking his hand for a brief shake. On contact that strange buzz of discomfort shot from your palm through the rest of your arm. Once your hand was free, you fight the urge to rub off the non-existent traces of him. There wasn’t anything there, nothing real, and you knew that, but more than anything you wanted that feeling gone and the only way for it to leave was to brush it off. Why did people have to insist on handshakes, just needless physical contact with strangers? It’s stupid, and you hated it.

For the first half of your shift the boss had you go over the day-to-day tasks with Brandon. There were few customers in the store that Sunday morning, so you mostly had the guy pull forward merchandise and clean some shelves. Brandon did the tasks, but they all came with questions. Most of the questions were mundane things about the products stocked, store hours, and what times saw the most customers. The problem came when Brandon veered his questions towards you personally.

“So, is Art short for anything?”

“Artemis.”

Your answer was short and pointed. You already didn’t like that he was the type to read name tags over asking for someone’s name.

“Interesting. So you from around here?”

A shiver shot through you, and you’re quick to stop that line of questions. You ignore the question entirely, instead cutting in to tell him to finish front-facing the aisle while you go check on Mr. Turner.

The day dragged on until finally getting to your lunch break. Brandon, thankfully, caught on that you weren’t one to disclose much about yourself to a new face. However, that didn’t make the morning smooth sailing. You grab your lunch and speed off to the cemetery, eager to get a break from Brandon.

Your usual bench was free, and you took your place to enjoy lunch. Munching on your meal, you take in the sights, finding a serenity in the quiet. The sun shined brightly, causing some of the glossier headstones to reflect the rays. You hum to yourself and scan over the graveyard. To your surprise, you spotted someone in the far corner opposite you. Your brows furrowed, perplexed by the other. You watched the figure, curious of what they’re doing.

They wandered from gravestone to gravestone, kicking at the earth with hands stuffed into pockets. The build of the figure suggested a man, and one dressed in monochrome. You squint your eyes at them making sure you weren’t mistaken; but no, that was the same bizarre suit you saw a man wearing the day prior.

You keep your gaze fixed on him, wanting to figure out why he might be here a second day in a row visiting completely different graves. Did the man simply like to visit graveyards and have a limited wardrobe? If so, you didn’t want to comment on the matter out of fear of shattering the glass house.

You ate lunch with glances at the man. You wanted to piece together why he might be there. He wasn’t mourning; he moved from one grave to the next as if searching for something. The man in the weird suit went down one row of graves, heading away from you, only to hit the end and turn back for the next row.

You forced yourself to not look at him for fear of getting caught. But your curiosity burned, and you chanced a look up. He didn’t notice you, too engrossed in whatever he was doing. Embolden by that, you continue to munch away at your food and sneak glances at him. That is, until you swallowed wrong and went into a coughing fit.

You got your breathing under control a minute later and checked to see if he noticed. And oh boy, did he notice. The man was staring straight at you. It was awkward enough to get caught looking, but you noticed the man closing the gap between you two. He was still at the far end with well over two hundred feet between you, but you didn’t want to stick around and have that plummet to single digits.

Nope. You scoop up your belongings and speed-walk straight back to the store. You didn’t even chance a look behind you. Eyes forward and keep moving. You weren’t sure if he was actually still following; you didn’t hear any footsteps behind you. So that seemed like a good sign.

You blew past the door, bell violently chiming, and you made a beeline for the back. Your heart pounded against your ribs, wanting to break free and make a run for it. You take quick breaths, forcing the next to be longer than the last to get yourself to calm down. In the middle of collecting yourself, Mr. Turner walked into the back area with worry knitted on his brow.

“Cass, you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Is there a man in a striped suit in the store?”

He gave you a puzzled look, but left to do a sweep of the store. He came back half a minute later, shaking his head. “No, no one’s in the store dressed like that. What happened?”

“Nothing really. I just saw him in the cemetery and it looked like he was starting to follow me.”

He frowned. “Well, you just come to me if any creep is giving you a hard time. I’ll knock his teeth out for you.”

You manage a smile and nod. You take a few more breaths to calm down before you grab your apron. Things were going to be okay. The guy might not have even seen what store you went into. Heck, that guy probably didn’t even leave the cemetery. And even if he did, Mr. Turner was there to help you out of a tight spot. You smile a little brighter and step out onto the sales floor where you see the stripe suit guy looking at paint chips.

A strangled scream catches in your throat. You step back, dipping back into the employee’s only area of the store before he could see you. What the Hell were you going to do now? You couldn’t hide back there all day.

You push aside the fabric curtain dividing the sales floor from the back, and get a look at the man. With him much closer, you could see his green hair and the distressed look of his suit. He leaned forward, looking over the paint colors. Maybe he didn’t know you were back there. If so, you could wait in the back for a few minutes for him to just leave.

You close the curtain and slip your hands into your apron pockets. Your fingers brush over cool metal, and your thumb flicks up the slider on the side. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly better than nothing. Box cutter in hand, you look back out.

The stranger stayed put in front of the paint colors. You take a shallow breath, prepping yourself to go out. In the middle of psyching yourself up, you see Brandon wander over to the paint section. Hope bubbles up in you. The new guy can take care of him for you.

Brandon scanned over the section. He pushed down some color chips, looked over the desk before looking your way.

“Art! There you are.”

Brandon’s voice bellowed in the small store, not only earning a squeak from you but also causing the stranger to turn and look. You yank the curtain closed, hoping the man in the monochrome stripes didn’t get a good look at you.

Brandon parted the curtain a moment later and looked you over with knit brows and lips in a thin line. “Art, what are you doing back here? I don’t think it looks very professional for an employee to skulk around in the back all day.”

“The guy over at paint followed me from the cemetery.”

Brandon raised a brow at you. “There aren’t any customers in the store, and certainly not in paint, I would have seen them.” He pulled open the curtain with a flourish to reveal the man standing just on the other side. “See, no one’s there.”

Your eyes dart between the idiot holding back the curtain and the green-haired man tilting his head some with a grin plastered on his face. Thought processing came to a crawl as you tried making sense of what you were seeing. Your gaze lands on Brandon in the end.

“You don’t see anyone there?”

He rolled his eyes and looked back out to the sales floor. He then looked back at you with brows knitted further. “No, there’s no one there, Artemis. Perhaps you should stop taking your lunches in the cemetery if they’re just going to put scary thoughts in your head.”

Brandon frowned at you before stepping out onto the sales floor, going right through the man in the striped suit. He stopped to shiver, only to keep walking a second later. Once he left, your wide eyes landed on the man still standing there, still grinning and showing off sharp yellowed teeth.

“Hi there!”

Nope. Nope nope nope. You grab your box cutter and pull it out to point at the guy. And without a word you push aside the curtain more and go around the man. The man whined at your action and followed you.

“Come on babes! Don’t ignore me, I know you can see me!”

You keep walking, heading straight for Mr. Turner. He turns to you at your approach and the small smile fades from his face. “Cass? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The gravelly laugh behind you sent shivers down your spine. You did your best to shake off the feeling and forced a smile.

“I’m not feeling too good. I was hoping I could go home early today.”

His lips sink further into a frown, but he gave you a nod. “It’s fine by me. But what about that man you were talking about that followed you from the cemetery? Are you going to be okay?”

The man behind you continued to laugh. You tighten your hands into fists, the metal of the box cutter pressing hard into the flesh of your hand.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay Mr. Turner. See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, and you handed over your apron while keeping the box cutter in hand. You offer one last quick goodbye and head out the door, the bell only chiming once. You march down the sidewalk and hear the strange man continuing to talk.

“So, babes, where are we heading?”

You pause at your car door. You take a few quick breaths and finally respond to this... person. “I’m going home. I’m obviously not feeling well and seeing things that aren’t there.”

You slip into your car and promptly lock all the doors. You heave a sigh and lean against the steering wheel as your brain sorts through all this nonsense. A groan rumbles in your throat and you lean back in your seat. In your peripheral, the man in the striped suit sat in your passenger seat sporting a sharp grin. Well shit.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing

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