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aetheternity · 3 years ago

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Being a big brother when you've never been a big brother (800 follower special)

Synopsis: In which Levi's been dating you for a year and a half and gets the news that Kuchel is pregnant.

Introduction: In this Kuchel is 43. She had Levi as a teenager (17). Female reader and Levi haven't talked a lot about having babies yet. You two live together but haven't discussed it fully but you have told Levi you'd be open to the idea of having children while he was slightly on the fence.

• To say Levi is shocked is a monumentous understatement.

• When he gets the news that his mother was pregnant with his step father's baby he gets quiet.

• Doesn't say much.

• Well what would he say honestly?

• You on the other hand are spewing out baby names and bouncing in your seat while asking his mother about her plans for colors in the nursery.

• It's not surprising that he's distant. He's 26 and he just found out he's gonna be a big brother. He knows next to nothing about children as it is.

• Though eventually he warms to the idea and by warms I mean he becomes as helpful as possible in aiding his pregnant mother around. Buys her anything she wants/needs and goes on all the trips to buy clothes, toys etc for the baby's arrival.

• Even though he's still pretty quiet on his feelings about the whole situation.

"Babe?" You call to him one night as you're both getting ready for bed. He turns his head slightly to look at you. "Are you ok? I know this might take a lot more getting used to."

He sighs placing his tie on the dresser. "How would you feel?"

It's not said maliciously just curiously. Grey eyes fully scoping the lines of your face. "How would I-" You start and then stop, eyebrows raised and cheeks puffed. "Well.. I know you probably don't need to hear awkward."

He blinks turning his attention back to the mirror. "No! I'm sorry, Levi!" You gestured out to him with both hands and he sighs, walking over to you with light thumps on the carpet.

You laid back in bed and he slowly pulled himself over you. His hands on either sides of your shoulders, legs spread on either side of yours and head resting delicately on your chest. "It's gonna be ok. Look the first year of that kid's life is just them needing love and a bottle to suckle. Worry about the first year once they're born and everything else will fall perfectly into place."

Levi snorted against your skin, fingers lightly stroking the arms of your tee shirt. "Perfectly.."

"You know what I mean." You reply, pressing the smallest kiss against the top of his head. "I'll be by your side the entire time."

The only reply you get is a soft exhale. Levi's heart beat softly evens out and with your fingers curling through his gorgeous black hair he slowly falls asleep.

Finding out the baby's gender:

• When Levi finds out he's having a little brother he feels.. pretty much the same though apart of him is kinda sighing in relief at knowing he won't have to protect a little girl from nasty boys.

• You on the other hand are beaming, "Levi, you're gonna have a little brother! Isn't that great. Kuchel were you hoping for another little boy?"

• Kuchel smiles, "I wasn't too concerned with the gender just as long as they were healthy." She admitted "But I wouldn't have minded a girl, just to see what parenting the opposite gender would be like."

• Somehow the conversation of Levi's future baby brother turned into a conversation about you and Levi's possible future child and what you'd want your first kid to be.

• Levi didn't stay long when that started, promptly excusing himself and you found out almost three hours later that he'd taken a walk and ended up at home.

"Levi?" When you walked into your shared house he was laying on the couch with an arm over his face.

He slowly laid his arm out flat next to his body and you walked over to him cupping the hand closest to you.

"I was going to come back but.."

"You didn't?" You gave him a small smile running a finger over his cheek. He went quiet, eyes falling shut.

"Don't.." He sighs, eyebrows twitching on his forehead. "Don't start that thing you do.. you know when you worry about people.."

You scoff, "Well I am worried about you, I've never seen you look like this before."

His eyelids flutter open slightly, grey eyes flashing over to you through the slits. "You've thought about our future kid a lot?"

You blink, mouth hanging open, "I- well I.. wasn't ok I was it was just for Kuchel." You tried to laugh.

Levi's eyebrow raised, "No, you didn't tell me how much you really thought about it beyond our past conversations. You've thought about it more than you admitted so you might as well stop pretending."

He sits up on the couch, hands dangling between his spread legs. "Ok fine you win." You admit with a huff. "But with Kuchel and the baby and the baby shower and all it definitely wasn't the right time to revisit this conversation. I just couldn't help it."

His fingers come up to rest in your hair carding away any loose strands where they are on your face. "Looks like we have to discuss it again." He says

A couple weeks after the baby's actual birth:

• You and Levi had come over only a couple days after the birth of the youngest Ackerman.

• "I named him Chance." Kuchel had remarked, her eyes filled with light as she held one of the smallest things Levi had ever laid eyes on.

• "Chance?" You replied, slowly transferring the baby from her arms to yours.

• "Because he was a Chance baby. It was honestly a little worrisome having him since I'm getting up there you know. More of a risk." She laughed it off.

• You looked to her with a small smile. "He's gorgeous." Your smile only getting brighter as you held the small person in your arms. Watching as he softly sucked his pacifier.

• "Just like his big brother." You added, smirking in Levi's direction.

• "Tch." Was the only thing he could muster as he stared in any direction other than the one where his girlfriend was now holding his newborn brother.

• "Levi, don't you wanna hold him?" Kuchel asked her smile never fading.

• Now he felt himself look up. He looked first at Chance and then to you holding him so tight.

• "Come here." You whispered and like a startled deer Levi slowly surveyed the situation a little more before he was coming closer.

• He inched his way down right in front of you and Kuchel, plopping down on the coffee table. Eyes locked on Chance's currently closed eyelids.

• "Not yet right?" You said to him

• He looked up at you then back to baby Chance.

• "Yeah.. not yet." You confirmed

☆☆☆☆

• You'd been right about one thing all Chance needed was love and a bottle to suckle..

• It just for whatever reason wasn't allowed to come from Levi.

• He'd hold Chance, he'd cry.

• Kuchel would hand him his sleeping brother while she got his dinner ready. He'd wake up and scream bloody murder.

• And at this point Chance had successfully: Peed on, spit on and thrown up on Levi.

• And all with the same blissfully smug expression.

"Don't get discouraged, Levi." Kuchel said soothingly "He's just not comfortable with you yet." She explained as she rocked Chance in her arms.

"You did talk to him the least while Kuchel was pregnant. Maybe it has something to do with that?" You tried with a shrug.

"All I know is I'm sick of being covered in his different bodily fluids." Levi huffed

"Awwww. Barely a year old and the brothers are fighting already." You giggled, Kuchel quickly joining in on your laughter.

Levi just rolled his eyes. He felt a little pang in his chest as he looked at his sleeping brother. No one else got nearly as much shit from this kid as he did. But it couldn't possibly be a personal attack the kid was less than one year old what could he possibly know about fights with his brother?

You and Levi take one year old Chance to the park:

• It was comfort weather.

• The perfect kind of weather to take Chance to the park on a crisp Saturday when you both were off from work.

• And a part of Levi was sort of glad for this opportunity.

• Kuchel and his step dad had gone out for pizza and here he was with you and his brother.

• It was surprising to Levi how lively Chance was: trying to push the hood of his stroller up and messing with the buckle strapping him in.

• Felt like just yesterday he couldn't hold his own head up.

• "Alright Chance. Come here." You giggled, gently pulling him out of the stroller with Levi's help.

• You guys had a little set up going in the shade under a tree. Blanket, Chance's toys and his sippy cup all sprawled over the space.

• You handed Levi a red donut shaped toy and told him, "Hold it out for Chance, he loves this game."

• "Chance look." You said as Levi held the toy up to a distracted Chance.

• Unsurprisingly the first thing he did was cry.

• "Here let me try." You offered, pulling the toy from Levi's grasp.

• The second you took the toy and held it in front of Chance his smile practically touched his ears and he leaned forward trying to grab it with his hands and then his mouth.

"You're doing great." You praised, pulling Chance onto his legs.

Levi just sighed, "Anything else?"

You pointed to the ball with one finger, still bouncing Chance. "He loves that squeaky thing."

Levi looked in the direction of the small toy, yanking it up off the blanket. He held it up giving it a little squeeze in front of Chance. It drew his attention surprisingly fast and he watched Levi's hand as he squeezed it again.

He was so weirdly enamored by such a normal item it was honestly really cute. A warmth spread through Levi's chest as you smiled at him in his peripherals.

"You want this?" Levi asked, holding it out for Chance.

Your smile stretched over your face as Chance reached for it. Little legs working to get him closer to the ball in Levi's grasp.

"That's it." You cheered softly. "Good job."

It wasn't clear who the compliment was directed towards but Levi was too distracted by Chance's little hands trying desperately to pull the object from his grasp. You still had your hands around Chance to support him as he finally grabbed the ball at a weird angle. The object immediately meeting his mouth.

"Yay, you got it." You said, bouncing Chance lightly. "See now you guys are-"

Chance turned in your grasp, the ball plopping onto the grass with an almost inaudible thud. Unfortunately Levi didn't account for Chance to bend over at the same time as him trying to pick up the ball and his nail came down on Chance's forehead. Not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough for Chance to scream at the top of his lungs as if he'd been stabbed instead.

"Wait no!" You gasped, picking up the ball.

"Shit." Levi sucked his teeth.

"Levi!"

Luckily Chance probably didn't hear either of that thanks to his loud screaming. You tried to give him back the ball only to have it smacked from your grasp. The tiny object tumbling down the hill as you tried and failed to coax Chance down.

Thankfully Levi reacted fast grabbing it before it could roll too far away.

"Is he alright?" Levi tried as you rocked him back and forth.

You giggled, "Yeah, he's a drama queen you know that." It didn't seem to really help though. Levi's features scrunched and his shoulders unnaturally hunched. "Let's take him for a little walk, maybe then he'll calm down."

☆☆☆☆

It took around thirty minutes of walking and rolling Chance's stroller through the once quiet park for him to finally tucker himself out.

Levi huffed as you and him plopped down on the nearest park bench. You rifled through the bag pushing the hood of Chance's stroller up before placing his blue bucket hat on his head. Which perfectly matched his blue overalls and blue socks.

"Sorry." You finally heard him mutter as you pushed pretty brown locks out of Chance's eyes.

"It's not your fault." You replied "I promise Chance is just being himself he probably would've cried that hard if I or anyone else had scratched him too."

Levi said nothing. Just watched as you pushed the brim of the hat up. With a little click you fastened it to the front of his hat. Chance's soft features in full view. The little froggy on his green shirt moving with every breath he took. But Levi could only watch.

"Hey, look here." Your cheeks were puffed out as you yanked Levi's face toward yours. "He's gonna warm to you." You said with softened features. "You're doing such a good job." You praise.

The edges of Levi's eyebrows slowly relax and he lets his chest flow with air like he hadn't done since he made Chance scream earlier. The corners of his lips lift a little and he sits back as you push the stroller back and forth with one arm.

Before he can even think about it he spills the awe flowing in his eyes, "You'd make a great mom."

When you smile at him it makes his heart sink. You slowly turn your attention back to a sleeping Chance and he moves in a little closer.

"If there's.. some future where I actually have a child. I want you to carry my babies."

Your eyes are blown a bit, mouth agape as you look back at him. "Levi.." You start but are immediately cut off by a soft aww from two passing women.

"He's adorable." One says, staring into the open stroller.

"You guys are the cutest parents." Says the other.

"O-oh.. I.. we're actually just babysitting him." You struggle

"Still he's cute." Says women number two bending down to have the same view as her friend.

"Thank you." You practically choke. Eventually they leave and you run a shaky hand through your surprisingly sweaty hair.

"Levi." You start before he can get the chance. "I want you to be sure. Ok, I mean we went from Chance being a drama queen to you saying you want me to have your kids?"

"I didn't mean to say it here." Levi admitted "I did mean it though. You weren't the only one thinking while Kuchel was pregnant."

You give him a little kiss on the nose, brushing your finger over the tip of his ear. "It would be a huge step. We're not even married."

Levi nods, "Someday.."

"Someday."

Family beach day? Family beach day:

• Mikasa had come cause this was her first time getting to meet Chance.

• There were lots of firsts actually. It was also Chance's first time on the beach.

• Chance instantly loved Mikasa the second she held him.

• Soft laughter and a bright smile flooding his face.

• Kuchel and Levi both spent as much time as possible under the beach umbrella.

• You spread sunscreen on Chance's body while Mikasa distracted him by showing him how to make a sandcastle.

• Cue you also trying to get some pictures for Kuchel to hang on the family wall she had back home only for Chance to turn away every time.

• Which he genuinely thought was the most hilarious thing ever.

• And in all the time you'd known Mikasa you'd never seen her smile so much.

• "Is it.. possible it's Chance?" You asked while Chance threw any and all the sand that could fit in his tiny fists.

• She just playfully rolled her eyes, handing Chance the shovel. Which he didn't know what to do with so he just resorted to shaking it around till it flew from his grasp.

• "That's such an Ackerman response." You chirped reaching for the discarded shovel.

• You were more than a little surprised when Levi's uncle Kenny showed up. Slamming the door of his kidnapper van closed.

• "Woah Kenny came?" You asked Levi as you sat on the edge of his beach chair.

• You, Mikasa and Chance had all decided to take a break from shell collecting to come up and eat lunch.

• Kuchel laughed at your surprise. "He hasn't met Chance yet." She explained

• "Ahh." You replied

• Chance seemed.. confused by Kenny.

• His only response to Kenny holding him being a blank stare.

• Kenny didn't seem to notice though as he yapped on about the time he accidentally put Levi in the washing machine.

• "You what?" Kuchel gasped

• "It wasn't on!" Kenny explained

• "If me and Levi aren't free to babysit please try Mikasa." You whispered to her.

• Chance spent most of his time after that resting in Mikasa's lap while she rubbed his back and hair.

• Cue Kuchel trying to get Levi to help her put a fussy Chance down for a small nap a couple hours later.

• Which unsurprisingly made Chance more fussy.

• Though the second Levi left, Chance drifted off on the towel in their tent.

• Mikasa made Chance a seashell crown 🥺

• It was a little big so it slipped off his head when he turned a certain way but he laughed whenever she'd place it back on his head.

• Mikasa had been a little on the fence about it but you had basically insisted on getting Levi to take Chance to the water.

• Unsurprisingly Mikasa wasn't the only one on the fence.

"He's having fun with you and Mikasa so you should be the ones that take him down there." Levi argued

"Oh come on Levi! It'll be fun."

Mikasa bounced a calm Chance in her arms as he played with the seashell crown she'd made for him. "He hasn't been with his big brother all day because you've been sitting here reading a book." Mikasa tried but it was only successful in getting Levi to suck his teeth.

"You know I don't wanna go anywhere near the water Y/N." He replied

Finally you got bored and peeled the book from Levi's grasp a cold stare greeting you when he looked up. "You can just go into the water for five minutes with Chance, please! Just so I can take a few pictures and he can get a feel of the water and then you can give him back to me and Mikasa and return to your book."

You could see the gears working in Levi's head as he looked over at a happy looking Chance. His red striped shirt covered in sand which Mikasa was happily dusting off. You already knew exactly what he was thinking but you didn't actually have to say anything because he was slowly rising from his chair:

"Mikasa give Chance to Levi." You said, holding your camera out as Levi reached for a distracted Chance.

Mikasa's arm came up to Chance's back, "Shouldn't I carry him to the water?" She tried

You tilted your head, "Mikasa.."

She finally relinquished Chance, handing him over as if she were fearful Levi would drop him. Levi looked down at the small boy in his arms mildly comforted in the fact that he didn't immediately cry, scream or pee on him.

"Come on guys let's get to the water." You called beckoning to them.

"I'm fine to carry him, I've done it before." Levi assured her as Chance looked behind him towards where they were headed.

"I'm not really worried about you." Mikasa replied, looking down at Chance who was now kicking his legs against Levi's sides.

When you'd all arrived near the water Chance was in awe. His bright grey eyes practically blown and his mouth hung open. He nearly dropped the seashell crown in his arms. Luckily Mikasa scooped it up before it fell.

"Look at this Chance." You cooed gesturing to the water. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Chance responded with glee reaching his arms out toward the huge body of water. He bounced up and down, hands out as he grasped onto nothing.

"He loves it!" You chuckled, carding your fingers through his gorgeous brown hair.

"Armin's gonna love him." Mikasa said, rubbing Chance's belly.

"Ok, quick get him over here while the water is calm." You gestured to the flowing sea and Levi placed him down, holding his waist awkwardly.

You lowered the camera in your grasp, "Come on big brother sit with him, make it look like you're really having fun at the beach with him." You gestured and Levi begrudgingly sat.

He looked back over to you and you gestured again to the water coaxing Levi into splashing water on Chance who was currently staring out over the huge body of water in delight.

Unlike Chance who was actually wearing water shorts Levi was not. He'd come to the beach in cargo shorts because he hadn't planned on sitting on anything but a beach chair or a towel. So now that he was wading uncomfortably in barely ankle deep water his shorts probably looked like he'd pissed or shit himself.

Though he still followed your advice, flicking a tiny bit of water in Chance's direction. It worked surprisingly well because Chance's attention immediately caught on to Levi sitting in front of him.

"Good job baby." You cooed as you snapped picture after picture. Meanwhile Mikasa crossed her arms as if she were waiting for Levi to mess up so she could jump in.

Chance's lips curved up slow and before Levi or anyone could react he lifted his legs slamming them down hard. Water flying all over Levi in the process. It made Chance guffaw and he did it again this time with his hands forcing Levi to shield his eyes from the assault.

"Chance stop it that's not nice." You called but Chance continued smacking and splashing every bit of sea water that flowed between his legs onto Levi.

And for someone who'd never played with water he was way too good at understanding how to get the most water with each scoop. Drenching Levi until Mikasa stepped in to stop it.

"Chance, that's not funny." She said, her features cold. "If you can't play nice in the water, you can't play in the water.

That seemed to strike a cord in him. His breath hitching as tears flowed down his little cheeks. He clung to Mikasa and sobbed until she reached up to rub his back.

"Are you ok?" You asked Levi as he spit ocean water. His hair clinging to his face.

"I just wanna take a shower." He admitted, though his jaw was locked as he spoke.

His hoodie was drenched and his shorts had turned dark brown all over. He walked a little bit faster than you and Mikasa as you both made it back to Kuchel and Kenny.

"Oh God what happened?" Kuchel asked immediately grabbing a towel while Kenny laughed.

"Chance happened." You answered for Levi as he dried his head first stripping his wet hoodie off to reveal his bare chest.

Kuchel looked to Chance who was now innocently sucking his thumb, his head laid on Mikasa's chest.

"I guess his first time in the water was interesting." She sighed

"I got some good pictures before things hit the fan. I'll send them to you." You said, showing her the first couple pictures you had pulled up of Levi and Chance sitting in the ocean together.

"Thank you so much Y/N."

Chance's first words:

• Chance had said his first words when he was 6 almost 7 months old.

• And barely anything else since.

• He really was an Ackerman.

• Every now and then he'd say little things: Ball, Mashed Potatoes (cause they're his favorite food) And TV.

• And of course names which he was pretty good at.

• But the only name he refused to say was Levi.

"Alright Chance you remember your big brother's name right?" Kuchel asked, Chance looked up from his block fort. Kuchel pointed to Levi who was calmly drinking tea and surveying the scene. "Levi." She said

Chance blinked then went back to his block fort. "He has to say it eventually right?" You asked Kuchel as you handed Chance another block.

"He's being stubborn and yes he has to." She replied squeezing Chance's waist.

Chance's eyes rolled to the sky as he placed the block you'd given him next to the tower of blocks that he'd already built.

"When did he learn that?" You huffed in surprise.

"Same time he learned the s-word probably." Kuchel sighed when you gasped she laughed a little. "Stupid." She explained still laughing.

"Oh! Oh."

The two of you continued to laugh as Chance rearranged the tower he'd built knocking it over in the process.

"Chance I believe a smart two year old like you can say a name like Levi I mean you got Mikasa down." You say

"He calls her Mika actually." Kuchel replied

You hum and Chance puffs, "Don't wanna."

He finally gets the block tower to look at least slightly how he wanted it seemingly. He slowly leans back like he's trying to get a better view.

"That's amazing Chance." Kuchel applauds with a soft gasp.

"Good job sweetie." You chime in

"It's not bad." Levi says to which Chance is rolling his eyes again.

"What are you gonna call it?" You ask hoping it'll cut the tension you can feel growing.

Chance peers at it then opens his mouth but before he can say anything he looks at Levi who's staring back. And slowly but surely that slow moving grin works its way onto his features.

"Stupid Levi!" He exclaims with a laugh before taking a block and smashing the whole thing in.

"Chance!" Kuchel huffs

"That's one stubborn kid.." You say with a sigh as Kuchel takes Chance to the punishment chair.

Emergency in babysitting (in which Levi gets high but Kuchel needs to drop off Chance because she has an emergency to take care of.):

{This is based off some headcanons I read for Levi when he's high. If I ever manage to find the post again I'll link it here.}

• You'd forgotten how clingy Levi got when he was high.

• He hummed into the fat of your waist as you sat still trying to watch TV on low volume.

• His leg shaking a little every couple minutes.

• Your fingers slowly carding through his head as his eyes stayed shut tight.

• At some point the doorbell rang and you tried to pull yourself out of Levi's grasp thinking he was sleeping.

• "Where are you going?" He almost whined, pulling himself up on his knees and crawling to you.

• "The doorbell baby. I promise I'm coming back." You said giving him a small kiss on the cheek.

• "W- OK.. I'll wait here." He sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his legs a little.

• You can't help how hard you smile, "I'll be back, I promise."

• The second you open the door you're bombarded with words and Levi's step-dad holding his nose.

• "Oh God what happened?" You asked

• "I need someone to watch Chance for a couple hours while we go to the hospital. He fell on one of Chance's toys while he was carrying some boxes and.." She gestured absently, handing Chance over

• "Sure, no problem." You replied "Hope you feel better." You said to Levi's step-dad.

• Kuchel quickly handed you a bag of Chance's stuff before hurrying off with Levi's step-dad.

• You shut the door with a sigh just as Levi came down the stairs, "You said you'd be back." He huffed

• "I'm sorry, listen your step-dad is going to the hospital so we have Chance for the night." You explained

• You honestly couldn't tell what Levi or Chance's faces meant but both boys seemed to be in silent agreement.

• "Are you hungry Chance?" You asked as he sucked his thumb laying his head on your chest.

• "Mashed Potatoes." He nodded

• "Yeah? OK let me get you some."

Levi followed you into the kitchen and watched you as you placed Chance in the high chair you guys had for when he visited.

"I know, you want to sleep off your high baby just give me a few minutes to get Chance fed and asleep." You offered

Levi nodded but he stayed by your side as you grabbed the box with mashed potato mix in it and got to work putting it in a pot with some water and butter.

"You don't want anything else babes? Just mashed potatoes?" You called to the small boy kicking his legs behind you.

He nodded, "mashed potatoes." He repeated with a kick of his legs.

You managed somehow to get the food cooking while Levi clung to you like a puppy. His gaze soft whenever you met his eyes. His hands in your shorts pockets and arms coming up to meet your waist.

"You know Chance, mashed potatoes are more of a side." You explained

Chance shook his head, he glanced over at Levi who was still holding onto you like he was worried you'd fly away or something. Which immediately sparked tears, he shoved at the tray in front of him screaming your name and reaching out for you.

"Ok, ok please don't cry Chance!" You shouted over his crying when you picked him up, he instantly stopped, yanking you closer to press a kiss to the side of your face before snuggling into your shoulder.

"Aww Chance." You patted his back giving him a kiss back on his forehead.

"I want kisses, please." Levi said bouncing on his tippy toes.

You quickly gave him a forehead kiss as well and he calmed down enough to rock against you, "I hope you're still this cute when you're holding my children." He sighs.

(Ok so I reached the post number limit. Might make a P2 of this let's see how this one does first.)

#aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #aot imagines #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman fluff #snk levi #aot headcanons #aot au #kuchel ackerman #kenny ackerman #cal writes

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dreamhot · 3 years ago

Text

okay so let's think about series that involve a (temporary) incarceration of the big bad before the story is over. obviously movies involve this situation now and then, but i'm more focused on long-form media that's drawn out over time, since that's more akin to what we've got in the dsmp than what we would see in a movie

one big thing came to mind immediately: the magnus archives

!! caveat - this isn't intended as a critique of the ccs or their choices, nor am i claiming that the following situations i am going to describe are completely alike. these are purely my personal observations when it comes to how villains are handled in longer series !!

[SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU CARE]

tma, if you're unfamiliar, is a serial horror podcast that lasted for five seasons. at the end of the third season, the primary antagonist (elias) is arrested for murder and locked up. he remains in prison for the full fourth season, only to escape in time for the finale. we learn that, owing to his supernatural influence, his incarceration was largely voluntary while he continued to keep tabs on events elsewhere, and his 'escape' is more like checking out of a hotel stay. he remains in a position of power by proxy for a greater enemy in the final season. at that point, he's more of a figurehead than the actual problem, but he's still the catalyst for everything that's gone wrong and is targeted by the protagonists accordingly

so what does this have to do with the dsmp?

well, there's been a lot of criticism regarding the stagnancy of the plot as the months stretch on. obviously comparing a fully scripted and produced podcast to an improve roleplay server is like holding apples to the same standards as oranges, but it's still worth considering how nerfing the antagonist impacts the story. in tma, elias is out of commission (so to speak) for approximately 1/5 of the run time. in the dsmp, c!dream has been in pandora's vault for over half of the duration story thus far. and that's a huge chunk of time

additionally, elias was never truly removed from the events of the narrative - we would hear from him periodically, and he was still very much keeping an eye on the machinations he had set in place before being arrested. he was never without agency, even when he didn't have as much freedom. c!dream, on the other hand, has no such power on his side. he has the revive book, yes, but that doesn't give him any insight into what's happening beyond the walls of the prison. he doesn't have the supernatural ability to watch or control what others are doing (as nothing has been confirmed with the enderwalk, we're not gonna take this as evidence of him influencing anything)

in other words, whereas elias was imprisoned but still involved, c!dream is outside of the scope of being able to affect the narrative in any meaningful way. only when the other characters interact with him do we have any sort of insight into what he's up to, but until (and if) something shakes out with the c!techno development ... we won't really know if c!dream is up to anything at all. and how could he be? he's stuck in an impenetrable box with no exposure to the outside world, so unless he set some wheels in motion before the disc finale, he's just aimlessly rotting away in prison. and as of right now, though some speculate that he may have planned to wind up there, there is no canonical confirmation that he has any control over his current situation

the reason i'm making this comparison is because, narratively speaking, locking up the main antagonist before the series finale can still serve the story well if the antagonist still has a hand in the plot. i.e., it's not necessarily the wrong choice to put the big bad on lockdown for a while if said big bad is still on the periphery, serving some sort of narrative purpose. however, completely removing the antagonist from the events of the story often removes the driving conflict, meaning the plot may stagnate. of course this isn't to say that there's nothing going on in the dsmp without c!dream's involvement, but you can't deny that he was a pivotal force in many characters' arcs. c!dream being continuously locked up not only hinders the progression of those arcs (particularly the ones that were tied to him in the first place), but it affects the overall narrative as well. forward momentum in a story like the dsmp is powered by conflict, and without c!dream being able to affect the story, we're at a bit of a standstill

i know there are viewers who consider the incarceration justice for c!dream's actions, but i'm not even talking about what he 'deserves' right now - i'm talking about what would serve the story better. usually the primary antagonist isn't fridged so early on in the narrative because it tends to lower the overall stakes. again, of course there are other conflicts on the server right now ... but a lot of it still ties back to c!dream (whether we're talking about the people who want something from him, the people hurt by him, the people who need closure, etc etc). and i think many plotlines and arcs would benefit if there was more freedom - or at the very least, more agency - for his character

all this to say that i hope he escapes soon, whatever that means for the plot. i'm not even calling for any specific outcome; it would just be more compelling story-wise if the main antagonist was actually permitted to be an antagonist

#smile.txt #smp crit #long post #<- under the cut #this is all not super serious btw it's just my personal opinion on what makes a villain's role compelling #anyway one person asked me to post this and it was enough

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 5 years ago

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Or maybe something about picking out a dog with calum. You've been wanting to get a dog and you finally can. You know how soft Cal is for all dogs

Hope you enjoy!

Take a gander at my masterlist!

___________________________

The Dog Days

“That’s it. I’m either stealing Duke, adopting a dog myself, or stealing Duke and adopting another dog as well.”

Calum squawks, jaw falling open and he shuffles into the living room from the kitchen. This cup of tea is momentarily forgotten. “No!” he half yells, scoping Duke up from your arms. Though, to be fair, Calum knows that Duke’s not a people person and seeing Duke actively choose to settle onto your chest lets him know that if anything were to happen, and with the tour constantly pulling him away, that Duke is in good hands left with you.

However, that doesn’t mean he’d give up his old man without a fight. He kisses at the top of Duke’s head, noting that it’s definitely time for a bath. “You can’t steal him from me. I’m his pops.”

You haven’t moved from your stretched out position on the couch. Only raising your arms back for the dog again. “I love him. But I would never actually do that to you. You’d be crushed.”

Calum raises one eyebrow, studying over your face to see how serious you are. “We can visit some shelters together, if you’re sure you want to adopt a dog.”

“I might’ve dropped by one shelter already just to get information.”

“Next Thursday good for you?” Calum returns Duke to you. You nod, arms winding around Duke’s fluffy coat and small body. Calum slowly heads back to the kitchen, throwing glances over his shoulders every couple of steps. You sit up, Duke secure in your arms. “Oi! Don’t,” he warns, stretching out the last couple of feet to capture the pink mug from the counter.

You wait for him to almost be fully erect before bolting into the music room. Duke is still in your arms. “I told you not too!” Calum bellows, setting the mug down onto the kitchen table and running after you.

Your laughter trails behind you. You glance back just for a second to see Calum slipping just a tad as he rounds the corner for the hallway. Duke barks a little in your ear. Mostly confused but tittering on the edge of excitement in his tone. Once in the music room, still huffing your laughter, you gently lower Duke to the couch.

When Calum enters the room, he spies his old man safe and sound. His chest is puffing beneath the tank. “You’re gonna give him a heartache,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist.

He hoists and up you go, laughing as you lightly struggle in his strong hold. “Duke or you? Because I think it’s you.”

“You’re such a smartass,” he laughs, letting you slip back down to the ground. “Next Thursday right?”

“Next Thursday.”

Inside the front lobby of the shelter, you can faintly hear the small yips from the other side. Calum left Duke at home making it just the two of you as you follow the worker behind the gate door and into the kennel area. Dogs are standing at attention, poking their noses through the gates, the nails of their paws clinking at the tap at the metal cages.

“They’re all so cute, Cal. How am I supposed to choose?”

He takes in the lower lip that’s rolled out and your eyes that are starting to mist. You’ve mentioned for a while that your new place is just too empty without your childhood pet sauntering about. Calum wouldn’t miss this moment for the world, knowing the idea of adopting your own dog has been toying heavily in your mind. His arm comes up around your shoulder. “They are. But you’ll know which one is the one for you.”

Calum points out a small pup, very energetic as they jump up on the fencing of the kennel. They’re cute for sure with the spots littering their body but the energy level proves more than you might be able to handle. “Oh, c’mon, you know you’re always ready to bounce off the walls,” he teases.

You watch him, just for a quick moment as he turns his attention back to the small pup, giggling as the dog attempts to paw at his finger. His smile is bright. More so than you’ve seen in the last few days. “Think you’ll ever adopt another dog?” you ask.

“Maybe. Not right now though.” He readjust the hat on his head before turning back to face you. “I don’t know why you looking at me. I’m not an animal up for adoption.”

“You ought to be though,” you tease and he fakes offense, jaw dropping and a hand covering his chest. There are only giggles as you head deeper into the maze of the shelter.

After seeing about four puppies, you decide to give it a rest for the day. There was a cute corgi mix. You teased Calum that he only gravitated towards the small dog because of his resemblance to Duke. Calum vehemently denied the claim but the smile on his face and the light he radiated in the photo you took says otherwise. You were almost suckered into a mutt in the back. A puppy and a little yappy but it just wasn’t there. The other two puppies came from the same litter and though they approached you, they seem more interested in the bright laces of your shoes.

“I’m never going to find a dog,” you huff, eyes racking over the kennels. It breaks your heart. They’re all good animals. There’s no debating that, but you were relying on that gut feeling, that spark that Calum talked about when he ran across Duke.

“You can always come back another time,” he states, sliding up next to you. He had become preoccupied by a german shepherd, about two if he had to guess. They approached the front of the gate and if Calum hadn’t walked away, he would’ve been walking out of the shelter with another dog in toy.

One of the workers comes by, a smaller dog at their side. They’re coat is shaggy, but full brown, and they have floppy ears. As they settle back into their kennel, they glance up. You can tell by the slightly gray around their snout they’re a little older. They take a small step forward and the worker laughs, nudging them back in. “Who’s this little fella?” you ask, intrigued by their big eyes. They look a little sad, but it looks like it’s mostly come with age.

“Tucker. Been around the block for a little bit.”

As you approach, you spy the way their tail starts to wag. “Hey, Tucker,” you coo, reaching out with your hand, palm up for them to sniff. You’re used to the cold snout when it touches. You laugh, reaching up to pet the top of their head. They seem calm about it all, but definitely excited about your presence.

“I’m shocked. Tucker’s a little finicky with people,” the worker laughs. “Care to hang out with him?”

“Please,” Calum returns, watching you completely taken by the dog.

With the dog tucked into your arms, you settle outside for a bit. You find his favorite toy is a blue rubber ball with a squeaker in the middle of it. So as he clamps down on it, it wheezes. His ears flop behind him as he runs and you know that you have to take the dog home. You absolutely have too. There would be no right way for this turn out if you left the man behind.

As you fill out the appropriate forms, you keep one hand a steady scratch over Tucker’s head. His body is pressed into your thighs, like he can’t get close enough. Calum laughs, attempting to seduce the dog away with his toy but failing. “He’s obsessed with you already.”

Tucker’s about 4. Has been in the shelter on and off, bouncing between homes. They note that he’s not great with kids but you know for the stretch of time in front of you kids aren’t a huge issue of yours. Besides the bad history with neglect, the dog still seems to be good with people. The workers note that Tucker’s always been okay with strangers, but to give him some time before introducing him to friends and family.

As you look down to the dog, now resting on their back tummy in full display, you can only grin. “This does not mean that I won’t threaten to steal Duke.”

“Leave my old man out of this.” Calum’s turned his head back towards the gate, where just beyond he knows the younger dog is still situated. You can see the slight sadness turning down his eyes.

“Still thinking about them?”

“Yeah. She hadn’t grown into her ears just yet. She even approached me.” He looks back at you, his lip now the one rolled out. Duke’s still not great around other dogs and bringing home another dog isn’t ideal right now.

“Oh my god, let me sign this before you walk out of here with another dog.”

He can only laugh, the sadness dissipating with ease over his face. He settles for giving Tucker a tummy scratch. “It’s okay. I can come over to your place and threaten to steal your dog now. Isn’t that right, Tucker?” he coos, voice softening just a tad as he watches the dog turn over and curl up on your arm.

-H

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starswornoaths · 4 years ago

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Prompt 7: Nonagenarian

Oh hey, another one that got away from me. 5.0-5.3 spoilers, especially toward the end when perspectives change.

The Crystal Exarch did not have a nameday. And for little Lyna, that just would not do.

Word count: 2,222

The Crystal Exarch had long since lost track of when his nameday was, to say nothing of how many of them that had passed him by. Even long before the Crystarium rose around his tower, he had given up keeping track of his exact age. The community that turned to him for guidance didn’t ask, likely out of respect for what they recognized was a painful past of a kind man who tried to forget it all, even as he clung to all the good he had known and fought to save.

Little Lyna, however, the inquisitive little girl with bright, keen eyes and a need for familiarity with the man she viewed as a grandfather, had no hesitation in asking, even if she had already asked at least a dozen other times over the years, and had yet to receive a satisfactory answer.

“Exarch, when is your nameday?” She asked one year, as he had mentioned wanting to plan for her nameday coming up.

Her words were wrapped around a lisp, her teeth not quite grown in— soft, barely there if one wasn’t paying attention, but the Exarch always did. He always had time to listen to his granddaughter, even if he didn’t always have it in him to be honest with her. Or anyone, really.

“I don’t have one!” He replied, as he always did.

And as always, that didn’t satisfy her.

When she puffed her cheeks out in annoyance at him, he paused in pursuing their pantry shelves for cake ingredients to ruffle the hair between her ears. Batting his hand away and giving a whine in the back of her throat as she tried to fix her mussed up bangs, she scowled up at him.

“You have to have one! Everyone does!” Lyna insisted.

“I’m not everyone, and I am quite certain I do not have a nameday, little one.”

“That’s not true!” She raised her voice, startling him. “Why can’t you just tell me!”

She growled in frustration and stamped her foot, and at first he had been prepared to calm another fit, as children are wont to have, but then when he turned to face her at a soft sniffle, he realized she was legitimately upset— and worse, that he had upset her.

“Lyna—”

He knelt down to her level, hand reaching out toward her again. Not teasing this time, but comforting, a hand on her shoulder as she ducked her head. He heart squeezed— she only ever hid her face from him so when she was trying not to cry.

When she shoved his hand away with both of hers with a hiccup and scrubbed at her own eyes, he couldn’t find it in him to blame her.

“Lyna, tell me how I’ve upset you.” He requested, deliberately keeping his voice soft.

He already knew why she was upset, but it was important that she learn the words to express her upset, and that she should be able to give voice to them when she was hurt, even by family. Especially by family.

“You always lie to me.” The little Viis girl sobbed, knuckles still rubbing at her eyes. “You’re my grandpa and I don’t know anything about you!”

The Exarch paused again, hand hovering in the space between them before resting his forearm on his knee as he watched her weep, his heart twisting at the sight. Deep down, in that part of him that remembered he had once had a name and had wanted to be someone to someone stirred at being loved in such a simple, familial way. Demanded that he comply with his granddaughter’s one wish: to give him a nameday and not argue with her on the point.

He had already failed in distancing himself so she wouldn’t mourn him when he died, reasoned the part of him that remembered he had once been G’raha Tia. Would it be so awful to give her something happy to cling to? Something she could say she did?

Hadn’t that been what he had wanted more than anything as a little boy, clinging to his books of history and fairy tales alike, because they accepted him for who he was more than his tribe had?

“I’m sorry, little one.” The Exarch murmured, voice only just louder than her sniffles and hiccups. “I try to protect you from everything, but in so doing, I fear I’m only hurting you.”

When she peered up at him with wide, glassy eyes through the fringe of her bangs, he offered her a remorseful but pleading smile.

“In truth, I forgot when my nameday was.” He said, technically in truth for how he had lost track of the Eorzean calendar, and how it could translate to Norvrandt’s. “So I simply don’t have one.”

“Then I’ll give you one!” She pointed at him with another stamp of her foot. “Everyone deserves a nameday!”

A simplistic, if genuine argument. It wasn’t a matter of not deserving one, but not wanting to keep one, not wanting to know. Bad enough that he was distantly aware that he was a nonagenarian at that point, bad enough that he had to live with the guilt he had. No, having an actual nameday would be a line to cross, every year, that would remind him of how long he had lived like this, how long he had to wait to right a wrong he hadn’t even been around to try and prevent. Having such a marker would make it worse.

“Tell you what, Lyna.” The Exarch smiled, and held out the hand not yet claimed by the tower. “You can pick a day— any day of the year, any one that you like— and you can celebrate it for me.”

“...Promise?” Lyna asked, not yet accepting his handshake and giving him a suspicious side eye.

“I promise.” He swore with a firm nod.

After another moment of her examining his offered hand, a smile slowly bloomed on her face as she accepted his handshake. They shook on it, hands bobbing in one single shake. And after a moment, the Exarch offered his arms stretched wide for a hug. With a giddy laugh, Lyna leapt into them and let her grandfather scoop her up in a hug.

It was maybe a week later, maybe a mite longer, that he found a lumpy, misshapen little cake on his desk. The frosting ran off the side, more watery icing sugar than true frosting, and the cake was half burned with lumps of unmixed flour dotting the inside. Beside the child’s baking attempt, there sat a little crayon drawing of what appeared to be a very red man with triangles on his head holding hands with a little grey, stretched out stuck bunny beside him. Above the little sketch of him and Lyna, the words, “HAPPEE NAMDAY GRAMPA” were written, the letters alternating in color between what crayons she had at her disposal.

The was the best nameday cake he had ever had.

As the years wore on, and Lyna outgrew him almost one and a half times over as she matured into the strong, powerful, dignified Captain that he had always thought she could be, she never forgot. It was almost their little secret.

It was never the same day of the year�� that never really mattered anyroad— but one day, each day of the year, Lyna would leave a little cake and a note for him, wishing him a happy nameday. The innocent and unskilled drawings of a youthful child gave way over the years to respectful but muted letters of well wishes and expressions of gratitude, wrapped in hopes that he had a pleasant day. Despite the ever increasin professionalism with which she carried herself, Lyna had never once lost a bit of that warmth that made people follow her into the jaws of death itself.

Then one year, decades after they had established that the Exarch got to have a nameday, that Lyna chose to deliver his cake in person.

The cake itself was her best yet. Vanilla buttercream frosting made fresh that morning piped in a perfect little mound atop a little spice cake that perfectly fit in the palm of her hand. A perfect, singular serving. She had packed a little satchel with a thick blanket, a thermos of tea to compliment the cake, (a nice black tea, strong enough to balance out the sweetness of the cake,) and set out early that morning.

She had the day off, and had found herself wanting for the Exarch’s counsel. The people had begun to turn to her more and more in recent times, and though she offered them a sturdy pillar to lean on, she wondered if this was beyond her scope as Captain of the guard. If anyone would know how best to proceed, it would be him. That, and she hadn’t gotten around to celebrating his nameday this year. She would be remiss to let it pass by— she never had before, and was not going to stop now.

The stairs were numerous, and the path not quite familiar enough that she didn’t have to take heed of where she was going, but Lyna made it to him just as she had hoped she would. The dawn was just breaking beyond the horizon, and there was a light, sweet breeze drifting between the broad crystal pillars that held up the ceiling to this platform, at the very top of the Crystal Tower. The hallway between here and where her grandfather was resting was as a yawning expanse before her, giving the already ostentacious room an even more grandiose air.

All her life, Lyna had felt small compared to the might of the Crystal Exarch. This room felt the most like him, in that regard.

“Good morning.” Lyna said quietly when at last she stopped before her grandfather. “You did not assume me neglectful of your nameday, I hope?”

She averted her eyes as she removed her satchel and rolled the blanket out beside him. It was thick enough to be comfortable when she situated herself on it, sitting with her knees crossed. She set the cake down in the space between them, on a little kerchief, and took a few moments to pour herself a cup of tea in the calm quiet of the room.

Then, she began to speak. She told him of all that was happening in the Crystarium, all that the people had come to ask of her in his absence. There were children born in recent days that had asked after the Exarch’s name to give to them. Lyna instead offered them a name from any one of the tales that her grandfather had told her growing up, names of heroes that had stood up to do the right thing, whether that had been to proffer a blade to an enemy or give comfort to a friend. Between each tale, every bit of information she had to catch him up on, she would take a bite of the cake. Resources were not so plentiful that she would waste it in offering— and if the Exarch were here, that would be the last thing he would want from her.

The sun rose higher in the sky, catching the crystal of her grandfather’s torso. She brushed the crumbs away from her blanket and stood.

“I hope my report was sufficient.” Lyna murmured, rolling the blanket back up and sticking it back in her satchel. Her thermos, emptied of tea, soon followed. “...You could do with some plants here to keep you company. I cannot always be here.” After a moment, she said, almost to herself, “Perhaps we might start a garden here. Your garden.”

She looked back at her grandfather. Enshrined forever in crystal, eyes forever facing forward, the outlines of his face gleamed in the rising sun. His expression was that same, steadfast calm she had always known him to possess. Of all the things that were a mystery of him, she never once wondered if he had the courage to face his destiny. She had learned to tackle it head on from the best, after all.

“My duties will keep me away most of the time.” She told him, and in a strange way, she made this the goodbye she didn’t get to have. Or the closest thing she could make to it, anyroad. “But I will come back— as long as I live, you have a nameday, after all, remember?”

Her eyes stung. Her satchel felt heavy, slung over her shoulder— or perhaps that was because her heart felt lighter now. She had a rather long walk down to think on it. Through the blur of her tears and the warm, bright glow of the morning light, for a moment, she saw him— not the crystal, but the man that had taught her how to bake a cake, how to wield a weapon, how to be the woman she had become, smiling at her.

When she blinked her tears away, he was gone. But then, he had never been there at all— and that was okay. He was happy, on that far flung somewhere he used to tell her stories about. Just as he had always wanted.

“Happy nameday, grandfather.” Lyna said to him, and left.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv #5.0 spoilers #5.3 spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #Crystal Exarch #ffxiv Lyna #idk how this one ran away from me the way that it did but it Did and I'm okay with this

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sadviper · 4 years ago

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2020 Creator Wrap: Favorite Works

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Succumbing to peer pressure, haha, thank you @rain-hat, @smylealong, @ibelongtomousse, @macgyver-sheriff, @avauntus for tagging me~

It seems the common refrain is that this was the year everyone exploded into massive creative productivity after years of nothing, which is the exact same story for myself. I had read all the strategies of course: write 5 min a day, 1 sketch a day, don’t think about quality, do *something* just to keep the spark alive, etc etc, but it just got worse and worse. Honestly, I had been feeling so dire about it that I had made up my mind to stop trying anymore, because it was so depressing to try and fail so many times that it was much better to not hope at all.

Buuuuut.....then quarantine and telework happened, and woooah, guess what, all I needed was LOTS of time and space to myself where I’m not wasting it in an office checking emails and doing random training to fill all the downtime!!!

Much thanks to the serendipity that had me stumbling into @rain-hat , reading her early JY/KSR fics, and her encouraging me to go ahead and write that office yearly budget oneshot for TKEM (who writes BUDGET fics?? Who reads them???? lol). That’s not in my list here because it was very new and awkward, it was definitely the ball that got everything rolling.

Cut for super long-winded rambling:

1) Before There Was Zero (TKEM)

This was my first big fanfic in my life, and my most popular, and it absolutely gushed out of me in this massive torrent of *I MUST WRITE* where I would walk around at lunchtime giggling to myself, and type on my phone as I went, or wake up at 1am to scrawl something in a notebook in the dark because I couldn’t stop the words from coming. (How I miss that feeling now! ;__;) Actually, it also is the 2nd fully complete long-form story I had ever completed as well, so...lots of milestones here.

Looking back, it clearly was the product of my years of bottled up silence, where I stewed and dragged myself to the office every day wondering if I was going to calcify in a bureaucracy for the rest of my life (yes). But even as an office drone, I learned a lot of valuable lessons in how to manage, what leadership actually is at the worker bee level, the types of games white-collar workers play, and how to be a decent co-worker (and by extension, a decent human being--I don’t believe it’s possible to separate work life and private life. All your personas are you). It wasn’t all a waste after all!

Somehow I connected my day-to-day to the faceless, long-suffering Royal guardsmen in TKEM, headed by the utterly gorgeous, devastating, thoroughly underutilized, comedic prop military action star Jo Yeong, and thought--yeah! :D

2) Nil Desperandum (TKEM)

My biggest fic by far, full novel length at this point, massive in scope, I don’t even know how I came up with it based on the 10 collective seconds of screen time that Jeong Tae-ra and tyrant Jin got as a joke, but I was clearly still on that dam-gushing-pent-up-creative-high because this idea was fighting me when I was in the middle of writing “Before There Was Zero”.

I actually figured out the title while watching “Call the Midwives” where one of the peppy, indefatigable British nurses said to never despair, and I thought, yes, that’s it. All the horrible things I put my tyrantverse characters through, it was only so that when I save them at the end, it will be completely worth it. It’s a bit more violent (nothing beyond My Country levels tho) and quite emotionally dark, but I also tried to inject a lot of friendship, humor, and love into it as well, because there must always be hope.

For My Country fandom friends who didn’t realize, the tyrant!Yeong in this fic is essentially modernAU!Seon-ho, and I lifted Sung-rok entirely from My Country to be tyrant!Yeong’s second-in-command and loyal-superstar-extraordinaire. Writing them in this modern AU, and seeing the positive reception to Sung-rok’s grouchy, dogged devotion was the start of my love spiral for Sung-rok. <3 <3

3) The Veritable Records of King Taejo (My Country)

Going to cheat and lump 3 fics (soon to be 4) into one link. I rested a little bit after “Nil Desperandum” because I had completely emptied myself out at that point, just a husk of an author shell. Then I started poking out oneshots! Each one got progressively harder to write, lol, the creative gas tank was running out of juice, so I had to really start figuring out new strategies as a writer to keep going. One magic tool was coercing recruiting @rain-hat to beta for me, and WOW, THE BEST???? Who would’ve thought it’d be FUN to be edited!!! <3 Due to her efforts, I could avoid the “no beta we die like Liaodong” tag, hahaha.

I grew up watching cop shows, lawyer shows, monster-of-the-day shows, endless procedurals-- so I was super miffed that the drama would imply that Seon-ho spent YEARS just single-mindedly chasing private armies??! No! I want more family and friends development for this sad, dramatic whump child! I want him to be smarter than the show, inherently brilliant despite the stupid he descends into, and be recognized as such by the people who do recognize his value! And I want them all to be happy with no pointless death!

Also, the 4th WIP is now a Sung-rok lovefest written as an ode to his awesomeness, has stretched to 47K+ words, and is being an absolute royal pain to finish. ;__; All the ease and creative fervor from earlier? GONE. I’m a lone salmon flopping upstream on a ladder. I might get eaten before I finish laying my eggs. Any one have tips to get over this?

4) First Translation of Woo Do Hwan Japanese Interviews

More firsts! So much thanks to @ibelongtomousse to inspiring and encouraging me to do some real translating after talking to her about her sublime TKEM fics and translations thereof, and @staidwaters from emerging from the Internet depths to boost/correct my neophyte efforts! I’m now chomping at the bit to do more, even though I may ultimately discover that these interviews have absolutely nothing interesting to say, lol. But my first priority is simply to get better at the language, and 2nd priority is to soak in the words (and photos) of Woo Do Hwan, hahahah. Also, as far as I can tell, no one is filling this niche, so I guess I’ll keep going??

5) Fanart!

I started drawing again! As a procrastination tactic from writing oneshots, but it still was really nice to see that I hadn’t lost the touch entirely. I feel like I’ve mentioned this here and there, but writing wasn’t my first interest--drawing was. Animals first, then people once I discovered anime/manga. I went all into drawing comics, only to face the hard reality that I didn’t know how to tell a story end-to-end. Hence how I started trying to write. Along the way, things happened--I got RSI and had to stop drawing/writing for awhile. I discovered that pictures are NOT worth a thousand words, esp when it comes to long-form comics; my preferred tools of trade (dip pens) ended up exacerbating my RSI problems; then once I got a handle on my RSI, I found I could type faster than I can ever draw, and so here I am. I saw what @convenientalias was doing with their My Country werewolf fic though, so I am excited to try that for my Sung-rok WIP? :D

I think I’m the last hold out among artist/writer friends in answering this wrap-up, hope you enjoyed reading!

#meme #fic meta #2020 accomplishments

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years ago

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Deleted Scene; Off-Chance Meeting

What if Jimin met....Jimin?

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural

word count: 4.2k

Related works: See masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin

A/n: So this was like....a half developed scene that I was going to put in for Interlude: Second Best buuuuut I didn’t want to make the chapter too long because the main focus was guardian demon!Jimin’s POV from the events in the previous chapter. However! It’s been mentioned as a ‘what-if’ so I completed it as a fun deleted scene. Hope you like it and hope yall are doing okay! take care, be safe and I’ll hopefully see you soon again for another update, this time with story progression LOL

BTW! Thanks for the 1,026 follows!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖💖💖

Tag List: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct

Jimin’s game plan to blend in is quite simple because it really only consists of one step; grab a staff member so that he can duplicate the lanyard ID they have. Even though he promised to not use his powers to you for the most part, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t found ways to work around it. He easily locks onto a target — a male staff exiting the artist room to step out into the hallway Jimin’s in, presumably on a short break as he strides down to stop by a vending machine. The male staff has his head down, eyes glued to his phone for a while until finally, he takes a quick glance up to view the selection of snacks before ducking his head again, clearly in no rush at all.

Jimin’s lips quirk and he makes quick work at slipping closer, steps light and so undetectable that he may as well be a ghost rather than a demon. At the last minute, Jimin cloaks himself, sneaking up on the unsuspecting male just as he reaches into his back pocket to grab some change. The demon’s touch feels nothing more than a draft, fingers barely caressing the back of the colourful lanyard hanging around his neck but it’s all he needs. The male staff carries on, punching in the numbers and watches as the bag of chips falls into the slot below. Taking it, he walks away, none the wiser.

Jimin pays no mind to him anymore, focused on slipping the thin silver chain necklace out from under his shirt and with a soft blow of his breath, the silver chain morphs into the lanyard, a perfect copy. Normally, he would do without a need for something tangible to cast the illusion but this way, he wouldn’t have to use too much magic to keep it up — a weight to the illusion is more believable than simply thin air.

Satisfied, he lets the cloaking spell disperse, rolling his neck a little at the relief that he can finally walk around more freely without the worry of hiding or arousing suspicions.

“Now… where to go?” He mumbles quietly to himself, eyes darting before deciding that he should scope out the way to the area under the stage. Just as he rounds the corner though—

“Woah!”

Jimin’s fast reflexes has him jerking back in time before he collides into the other body. With a step back, his eyes immediately catch sight of the sparkly jacket and they widen almost simultaneously in realization.

Face to face with him was none other than his own mirror, Park Jimin of BTS, only he has honey blond hair and a glowing complexion.

“Ah, I’m really sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” His eyes are a little wide, stormy grey contacts shining as he apologizes.

For a moment, he’s frozen, stuck rigid in place with shock and split second panic before realizing that he has the safety of his mouth mask and drawn up hood to protect his identity of being the idol’s face stealer. Also the fact that the idol has yet to pass out from shock at seeing his own clone or give any sort of huge reaction was a good indicator.

“A-Ah….” The demon’s voice catches in his throat, and he awkwardly coughs, embarrassed as he ducks his head and mutters gruffly in Korean, “No, it’s my mistake.”

The singer smiles amicably, teeth showing and gaze so warm and so friendly that the demon almost has trouble meeting it.

“Hey now, don’t worry! It’s nothing serious.” There’s a pause, a slight tilt of his honey blond head before those artificial stormy grey irises blink, brows furrowing. The demon starts to actually sweat, eyes refusing to meet as he unconsciously begins to lean back to put space in between. But there’s no escaping the curious gaze of the twenty-four year old singer. “Ah, I— I don’t mean to sound rude or offensive but…. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before?”

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit…

He swears his plan would’ve been completely foolproof if he hadn’t ran into the very person he’s going around parading as. The chances of the demon running into said idol was 1 in 200 and yet it’s as if fate had cursed him with the unwanted luck a fan could only dream of having. But there’s no time to curse heaven and fuck all because his mind begins to race with possibilities of escaping this situation. Maybe he could get away with enthralling the idol for a quick second, trick him into thinking this is all some sort of hallucination from being overworked and then when he’s all good and spaced out, the demon can make his escape. His fingers just about twitches when the singer’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, face alight with an epiphany.

“Are you perhaps new?”

….What?

A beat unknowingly passes between them, with the demon blinking owlishly at the young man, completely gripped in disbelief and the singer staring back expectantly.

 “Am I mistaken…?”

The hesitancy creeping into that question snaps the demon from his stupor and he finally blurts out, “No, I’m new.”

Relief washes over the idol’s handsome face (he’s never gonna get over how fucking trippy this is to watch), shoulders visibly losing some tension and the singer even places a hand over his chest.

“Ah, that would’ve been really bad — I usually am able to recognize everyone on the team.” His eyes creases again from the smile forming on his face. “Why haven’t we met yet, um….?”

“Ju—“ The demon stumbles on his words, thinking at the last second that your impromptu Korean name you had given him when he met Jaehee sounded too similar to the idol’s so his mind jumps to the next one he remembers off the top of his head. “— yeon….Kang Juyeon. This is my first day.”

Jimin the idol makes a noise of understanding, presumably taking his sloppy introduction as nerves in good strides. He inclines his head graciously in an almost small bow that catches the demon off-guard. “It’s nice to officially meet you Juyeon-ssi. I look forward to working with you.”

He bows robotically in return.

“Are you on break right now?” The young singer asks innocently.

“…Yes…” The answer comes out unsure, like he’s testing the waters and seeing where this could possibly lead — hopefully with the idol leaving him be and carrying on back to the artist room, surely much too busy to entertain a seemingly nervous new recruit. To his surprise though, the demon is proven wrong.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I must be taking up your time. Have you gotten anything to drink or eat yet?”

“Well, no but—“

The idol’s mouth gapes open almost immediately, “Would you like to head over to the catering room now? We can grab something.”

The demon is baffled, to say the least; so taken aback by Jimin’s friendly disposition to someone who he only just met that even though he really shouldn’t be overstaying his welcome like this, a part of him would actually feel guilty for turning down the offer. He’s so glad he’s wearing a mask right now because then the idol wouldn’t have to see the borderline crazed smile slowly stretching over the demon’s lips, the disbelief too strong.

But looking at the original owner of the face he wore, seeing it completely reflect a drastically different personality than his own invokes something in him; a morbid curiosity taking hold and stoking the fire to a long buried question —

Who is Park Jimin?

Beyond the worldwide renown Korean idol and a pretty face with killer vocals and dancing, the demon knows very little about who this person is, this person whom you adore so much. What is it that drew you to him specifically amongst the other members. He highly doubts its looks alone (you’re definitely not the shallow type), or maybe even the amount of talent because from what he gathered, all the members were pretty much on par with each other in all departments.

So what made Jimin special?

He really shouldn’t follow this rabbit down the hole, but he’s a demon by nature and impulsivity is practically his middle name. Without another second thought, he agrees with a nod of his head, “Okay.”

Curiosity really should be a sin.

He gets a blinding smile in response, eyes disappearing and pearly teeth on display (he spies the slight crooked front tooth that somehow only seems to add to the singer’s charm rather than a flaw). They walk off towards the room that acts as a communal dining area for the staff and artists themselves, the large selection of hot foods lined up like a buffet self-serve while there are tables available for anyone who wants to sit down for their meal. There’s only a few staff members gathered there, each preoccupied with their phones or simply grabbing a quick bite to eat before rushing back to where they’re needed.

The singer walks in and of the few people that are hanging around, he inclines his head in greeting to them. The demon has no choice but to follow in order to not draw suspicions (even though he gets a few raised eyebrows from wearing a full hood and mask but is ultimately brushed off).

“There’s a lot of choices here so please help yourself. Don’t be shy.” Jimin gestures, grabbing a plate and going for one of the rolls of kimbap. Though the demon has no intention of eating anything — for obvious reasons, he still makes the effort to thoughtlessly pick out random food items to place on his plate for the sake of keeping up the facade. He gets as far as two scoops of sweet and sour pork before the young idol turns to him and his eyes dart to his modest portion.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“Uh…Yes?”

That immediately draws out a noise of disapproval, handsome face pinching along to match the tone. “Ah, Juyeon-ssi; you need to eat to keep up your strength. You can’t hold back on something as important as that.” Before any words of protest can be formed, a kimbap roll is placed on the empty space of the demon’s plate.

And then another.

And then a spring roll.

And then a hefty scoop of black bean noodles and some rice.

It goes on until his plate is adequately full, the idol satisfied as they migrate over to an empty table. The demon takes a seat and he feels his lips quirk as he observes the fact that Jimin’s own plate only consisted of two kimbap rolls and a few pieces of fruit he’s currently nibbling on. The stark contrast and adamancy is already so telling of his character, sans personal dietary considerations.

“Has the job been hard so far?” The singer asks casually.

“Not particularly….”

“Ah, that’s good to hear. Have people been nice to you?”

“Uh…Yeah, I guess.”

He gets a nod of approval, and the demon vaguely likens the feeling of a mother asking their child if their first day of school went well (or if he’s being generous, an older brother). It’s strange experiencing something so familial yet coming from the idol, it all seems so natural as if they’ve known each other for years and not just in the span of less than an hour.

It’s quite the culture shock — something he admittedly doesn’t have a good grasp on and it’s that curiosity to know that has him daringly (or perhaps, no doubt to his colleagues, foolishly) diving deeper. The wooden chopsticks in his hand push around the food on his plate meaninglessly, a gesture meant to disguise the hidden agenda he has; dissecting the idol and seeing what makes him tick.

His lips instinctively quirk under his mask but he makes sure that it doesn’t translate in his gaze as his eyes focus on the idol.

“I’m sure your job is much more tiring.” He says, taking on a tentative tone, implicating for an open ended discussion.

The singer takes a pause, eyes wandering in thought before he sucks in a breath after some serious considerations, “I don’t really think my job is any harder than some of the other staff here…” He stops, as if collecting his thoughts again and then continues, “I think it’s thanks to everyone’s efforts that the members and I are able to do these show successfully and safely. If I were to really break things down…. I really only do a small part.”

“But there’s no point to a show if there’s no performers.”

There’s a hum in reply to his statement but after the idol swallows the strawberry he’s popped into his mouth, he says, “I can see how you would say that, but I think more importantly, there’s no point to a show without the fans.”

The demon doesn’t miss the gentle affection that slips through — that quiet, soft whisper that carries the words near the end, giving way to something much deeper. It’s something he’s seen before, reflected in himself, and it’s whenever his thoughts wander to you.

Fondness.

His chest gives a twinge at the memory, jaw clenching a little as if to physically repress the feelings that begin to stir.

“You don’t even know the fans….” It comes out more as a low murmur to himself, but the contempt underlying his tone seeps through all the same. It’s just…. How could the idol possibly share the same sentiment he has with you, someone who he’s actually spent time with and come to know all the little quirks to — what makes you happy, sad, laugh, the way you laugh, the little noises you make when you eat something you love, see you at your highest and lowest points, with a group of people (not even a single person) who he’s had less than ten seconds worth of interactions?

It’s far too superficial, too scripted and said too many times with no real meaning. He wants to scoff at how impractical it is.

“Maybe so, but it goes beyond that.” The familiar sound of the idol’s lilt halts the demon’s thoughts quite suddenly, still in that soft spoken way but there’s something else with it. A sureness — steady and unwavering, and just the barest hints of….passive-aggressiveness?

That gets a quirk in the eyebrow; so this kitten does have claws after all.

“There are times where I wonder why there are so many people who like us and support us the way they do.” The singer continues seriously, already getting lost in deep thought. “Probably because we work hard, but who doesn’t work hard? Others make good music and do their best too so why us? We try our best to communicate to our fans but everyone does too…..These sorts of things are something I often think about.”

A pause, as if to find the right words, “But whenever I read the fan’s letters or things they post on SNS to us, saying how much we’ve helped them with our songs when they’re going through a hard time, it makes me realize that we’re not so different. We all have flaws and maybe it’s because we’re not perfect that they like us. Starting off with nothing and then little by little, seeing more people coming to support us…. They’re the ones who put us on the stage, so I— We cherish them a lot. They give us energy and comfort us, and we do the same back, like a deep connection, an understanding.”

The young singer stops in pushing around the remaining strawberry on his plate, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips, like he’s recalling a particularly pleasant memory. “So we want to give back by making good music and showing them our best. Ah, reminds of something really cool Namjoon-hyung said.” He takes the time to tilt his head, “He said how even if it’s just one person he could help, he’ll continue to keep trying. That really touched me, so even if we might not know them personally, they’re the ones who motivate us and makes all of this worth it.”

Once he finishes, the demon is left a little more than bewildered, overwhelmed in fact that all he could do was blink. Granted, it was a lot to take in, never having expected such an arduous confession but what’s even more baffling to him is the conviction the singer had saying all of it, so earnest in his words. Now, he’s no lie detector per se, but as a demon, he does have a more innate ability to pick up on cues and inflections that would give a person away, revealing their true nature. He’s used to it after all.

And then along comes Park Jimin.

This twenty-four some odd year old idol, thrusted into the cut-throat world that is the entertainment industry, young and bright-eyed, armed with nothing but potential, a good work ethic and a dream, yet comes out on the other side, a little bruised and scathed but otherwise, un-jaded; that young and bright-eyed innocence not diminished, instead it matured into something more resilient.

He can probably count on his finger how many people he can actually say that about. Hell, the only closest people that would qualify would be saints, and even that is debatable.

It’s....irritating because he’s faced with the fact that as much as he had wanted to dislike this person, he’s proven that he can’t.

A rush of air leaves his nose and he has to contain a rueful smile. “You’re a very admirable person Park Jimin-ssi. Not that many people keep to their beliefs so strongly like that.”

He gets a bashful giggle in return, light and melodic.

“Aish, what are you saying? I’m not all that impressive….I think I still have a lot to learn.” The singer almost whines from behind the back of his hand covering the open mouth smile he has. Once he calms, it softens. “All I really want is for the fans to remember BTS for our sincerity. I just hope that I’ve been able to help convey that so far.”

The demon lets out a breathy chuckle, finally getting up from his seat. He gazes down at this young man who’s face reflects his own yet wears it in such an entirely different way — glowing with a passion and radiance that is warm, sincere, kind, compassionate and loving.

Perhaps the way it’s meant to be worn.

And it’s with a bittersweet reluctance that the demon places a hand on the singer’s shoulder, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “Keep doing what you’re doing and never lose sight of yourself. As long as you remember what you’re doing this for, the sincerity of your members and you will be conveyed.”

Stormy grey eyes widen a fraction, a little confused as they blink up at him, clearly not expecting such encouragements (honestly, he didn’t expect this either yet here he is).

“Wh— Um, I—…” The idol reaches a hand up to comb through his meticulously styled hair, tousling a few loose strands as slowly, the apples of his cheeks begin to dust in a pink hue and dark eyes can’t help but watch on in amusement. As if sensing the focus shifting to his quickly reddening face however, the young man lets out a sputter and lightly smacks the demon’s forearm, refusing to meet his gaze. “Ahh Juyeon-ssi! What’s with you saying that all of a sudden to me? You sound as if you’re way older than me when we’re probably friends in age!”

Friends…

“What makes you think that?”

“W-Well… I don’t know how to explain it but…. I feel a sense of familiarity with you when we met. Like, a vibe….” The sentence pewters out into a shy mumble, the tips of his ears matching his cheeks now before comically, grey orbs whip up, suddenly concerned. “Unless you’re not….?”

The snort that leaves the demon’s mouth is quickly covered by clearing his throat but he’s sure the restrained mirth still reaches his eyes as he assures, “No, we’re friends.”

He’s met with a brilliant grin, full of teeth and a twinkle in his gaze. “Oh thank goodness. I would’ve died on the spot out of embarrassment.”

He refrains from rolling his eyes if only to dismiss the overly-dramatic relief that overcame the poor young man. But regardless, it’s his cue to go — he's starting to feel a little too perturbed being near someone so good-natured. With a final pat to his shoulder, the demon begins to depart.

“It was nice talking to you Park Jimin-ssi but you’ll have to excuse me, I have to get going now.”

“O-Oh? Is it really that time? If that’s the case— Ya! Kang Juyeon-ssi! Did you even touch your food? You—!”

“Jimin-hyung!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s attention whips to the new voice that called him from the still full plate of food left on the table. His eyes immediately meet doe-eyed ones, usually dark as coal but are currently a more lighter coffee colour, bringing out more of the brown that’s hidden in its depths thanks to the contacts. The youngest member approaches him with long strides, the sequins on his own stage outfit glitter with each step.

“This is where you were? Should’ve told me you were hungry, we could’ve gone to snack together.”

“Ah, no I was just talking with Juyeon-ssi.”

“Juyeon? Who’s that?”

“Kang Juyeon; that person who was just leaving, you must’ve seen him on your way in.”

But that only gets a head tilt from Jungkook, who swivels his head back towards the entrance, “He doesn’t sound familiar and I didn’t see anyone leaving.”

“….Huh?” Equally confused, Jimin swerves around the tall form of Jungkook to get a look however, to his surprise, he doesn’t see anyone. Glancing around lets him know that at most, there was only three other people in the room, excluding him and Jungkook but they were all immersed on the couch in the far corner, away from the entryway. Does Juyeon walk that fast? “Aye, quit messing with me. He had on a face mask, around my height? With his hoodie pulled up; probably the only one here who does too.”

Jungkook shakes his head, genuinely clueless on who Jimin could possibly be referring to. “No, I swear I haven’t seen anyone around like that.”

The furrow in Jimin’s brows deepen, mouth falling open in disbelief. The scrunched up, troubled expression the older member makes was too good to pass up on teasing so Jungkook can’t help but to lean close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What? Were you speaking to a ghost this entire time hyung?”

“Aish! Don’t say that! That actually gave me chills!” Jimin scowls, smacking the youngest repeatedly on the arm and causing Jungkook to cackle and skip away from the assault.

“Anyways, Namjoon-hyung wants to go over the script again so I went to go find you.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then.”

Brushing down his jacket, Jimin gets up, taking both plates with him, discarding his own empty one while Jungkook gleefully takes the one Juyeon hadn’t touched. The two head out and begin to make their way back to the artist dressing room, with Jungkook talking around mouthfuls of food about what Jimin had apparently missed while he was away but all Jimin could think about was his meeting with Juyeon.

There’s no way he could’ve imagined it all in his head — he’s too young to be going senile. Plus, it felt too real for it to be some overworked hallucination (besides, he doesn’t feel that jet lagged). So there’s a perfectly, logical explanation for it. Yeah, he just…walks really fast.

“Jimin-hyung is here!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the members. He gets a myriad of boisterous responses and greetings. The sound makes him inadvertently grin.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming. I didn’t think you would miss me that badly; I was gone for ten minutes.”

Thoughts of his mysterious friend are pushed away for some other time but the wise words he’s been given remain at the forefront of Jimin’s mind. Perhaps the next time he runs into Juyeon, he’ll treat him to a drink or two during the celebratory dinners — get to know him better.

He’s not sure what it is about Juyeon that makes him want to befriend him so intently, like there’s something about him….

Something that’s a little melancholy….and maybe, he dare say, a little lonely.

But to the singer’s dismay, he never really did see him again.

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ephemeral-writings · 5 years ago

Text

Everything I Need // 04

oh sehun x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

Everything I Need // oh sehun teaches you a thing or two about life. but falling for the boy who lived across from you was not what you had anticipated.

A/N-- Please leave me your thoughts!!! Enjoy reading!

Part 01 / Part 02 / Part 03 / Part 04 / Part 05

//////

The day your mother passed, it had rained. It was a spring shower that woke you up that morning, accompanied by the sound of water dripping from the roof leak into a rusty pail. You sat in bed, seconds after, your phone rang. Nothing had felt right that morning, not the rain, not the call from your mother’s hospital. But the absence of your father’s cigarette and constant grumbling yanked you back to reality. Your mother was dead before you had a proper goodbye.

As you looked around the memorial service, you had one thought in mind and one only: you were truly alone now. No amount of fake crying from your relatives could convince you to believe that they cared an ounce about you. And you couldn’t blame them. They didn’t know you and you didn’t know them. Why should your locked up father and dead mother have to force them to take you under their wing?

After the service, without much thought, you packed a bag and left your childhood home behind in the dust of a moving bus. You said a silent prayer that your father won’t find you in the next chapter of your life. You prayed and cried, for the first time since the news of her death, that your mother would watch over you from above.

You landed in Seoul, the main city just shy on the outskirts of the town you grew up in. You’d always dreamt about going to Seoul, but had never visited. You’ve heard of the high rise buildings that stretched to the sky. Turned out they weren’t that high, just taller than the ones from your town. It was definitely busier; the streets were always littered with people, cars lined bumper to bumper, in essence it was like a city that never stept.

You were accepted into a university in Seoul. Your plan had been to work while studying, and with the money you’d make, send half the amount in every check to your parents. Your already precarious future depleted the minute your life took a turn for the worst. One second a single lit candle was guiding you, and the next it was blown out, and you were left standing in the dark. But you’d eventually find your way around. Be it may lead to a cliff, you couldn’t stay in one place forever.

The first place you found was Jubilant. A help wanted sign was the beacon of light in beginning your new life, and more than anything, you needed money. The university had offered you enough aid to carry the weight of your tuition, and with scholarships, you had almost no trouble continuing your education. First year went by, slightly uneventful as you were only trying to adjust to the new-- well, everything. Your roommate situation was a mess overall. Second year was even more mundane as you were starting to get used to your everyday life of nothing but routine. Your second year was when you got comfortable enough to go out a little more, outside your school and work life. After a year of living with three other girls who were more or less strangers to you, you finally decided to move out on your own. You spent weeks searching for a place, and finally found the place you were residing at now. You arrived at your appointment early morning to sign and secured the vacant unit, and moved in a day after.

“Hey, Y/N.” Chanyeol called for your attention. It was downtime at the restaurant, and you were listlessly restocking on wrapped to-go utensils. Chanyeol was tinkering with his phone that was also dj-ing the restaurant’s soundtrack. There’s no one except a young couple who looked just about finishing up and your boss nowhere to be found, he put on what you liked to call lobby music. Chanyeol had a knack for jazz and blues, though he looked more like a rock and rap sort of guy. You made a small sound to let him know that you were listening. “You’re a girl, right?”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Last I checked, yes, Chanyeol, I am. What’s up?”

He grinned at your sarcasm. It wasn’t often when you’d let your, as Chanyeol liked to call it, fuck-off vibe, so he noted that you were in a good mood.

“What does a guy need to do to win over your heart?”

“My heart isn’t up for offers, Yeol. Don’t try for a second time.” You smirked.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “There wasn’t even a first time, Y/N. We talked about this, c’mon.” He groaned, leaning his right hip on the counter you were working on, arms crossed as he scrutinized you. Chanyeol was not a shy one. His gaze, at first, alarmed you. Having those set of wide eyes and a tenacious gaze made you uneasy, it was as if he could see right through you. After working with him for so long, you’ve learned that those clear eyes held more curiosity than harm. Although, curiosity could lead to harmful circumstances.

“Who’s the girl?”

You beated him to the punch. It was obvious that he needed advice on whoever it was that held his interest, you just weren’t sure you’d be much of help to him. In your relatively short life, you’ve never had someone pursue you romantically. It was unheard of, you being associated with a male, nevermind it being romantic or not. It wasn’t something you pondered a lot about, at least, not until last weekend due to a certain male who lived in your building.

“She’s in my music theory class. Senior, so you probably don’t know her.” A senior like himself, and also a music major, you deduce. “We got paired up to do a project together, but she’s…” Chanyeol trails off as he noticed the couple waving us down for their bill.

Chanyeol settled their check and bussed the table, and returned to your side all in less than five minutes. “So, I think she hates me. Actually, scratch that. I know she hates me, and I don’t understand why. I can’t read the girl, and it’s killing me.”

“Are you interested in her? Or just confused why a girl would reject you, the great Park Chanyeol?”

“Watch the tone, missy. I’m still older than you.”

“Well?” You pointed a brow at him.

Chanyeol thought for a while before deciding, “Well, she’s pretty. And smart. And she’s so talented-- that’s why I was so excited to work with her on the project! But then she got all frosty on me when I tried talking to her, and I’m confused.”

He truly looked perplexed by the girl in question behavior.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” you shrugged, honest and regretful. Chanyeol, though a huge dork once you got to know him, was very handsome. If this girl didn’t like Chanyeol, for whatever reason unbeknownst to you, you couldn’t help.

Chanyeol was a music major and joined you at Jubilant a year after you started working there. He was a quick learner and even quicker at becoming one of the best servers. He held an affable vibe to him that was contagious, to the point that you found yourself tossing remarks back and forth until you established the relationship that you had now.

“I’ll figure it out, some way or another,” he waved the matter aside. “So, what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re chirpy, Y/N.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I said hi to you earlier and you replied.”

“Okay, I always say hi to you,” you retorted, hands on your hips in defense.

“No, you just wave at me like a fly’s in your face or just grunt. You’re chirpy,” he emphasized the last word obnoxiously.

“Shut up, Yeol.”

“What, so you got nothing for me? Not even after the juicy stuff I spilled for you?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“Uh, rude.” He deadpanned.

You laughed. Chanyeol could be sassy when he wanted to, and he mostly was when he’s with you. You guessed you both brought out something within each other that you’ve never known existed.

You tried not to let your mind wander during the rest of your shift, in case Chanyeol grew more suspicious and interrogated you again.

Though you didn’t like the job, it forced you to speak, something you had troubles doing, to talk to people who were strangers and co-workers who were your friends. It was just unclear, to you at least, whether that friendship extended beyond the scope of the restaurant. You hated that empty feeling in your chest whenever you parted ways with Chanyeol, him going back to his endeavors of becoming a music producer and you...well, you didn’t know exactly what you were doing or where you were going. You majored in psychology, but only because it had seemed like it was interesting. Three years in and you were beginning to think that it wasn’t. But it’s too late to turn back, so you would have to learn to settle.

Fortunately(unfortunately), you don’t see Sehun for almost a whole week. It’s weird that before that night, you wouldn’t notice how often you wouldn’t crash into him in the hall or the mailroom. He was Sehun, your neighbor who has lived less than ten feet away from you for months, yet you don’t know a thing about him. Sehun, the man who was so disarmingly handsome that you now found yourself peeking corners to see if you had missed him by just a second, or making trips to the mailroom even though you had already collected them after school just to catch a glimpse of him. He became a phantom that was impossible to find.

Of course you knew where to find him, but it wasn’t like you had a purpose to seek him out or knock on his door. Plus, it wasn’t like one conversation with him as your bartender constituted him as a friend. You convinced yourself that it was best to just leave it at that.

The following Monday, you came back from school to a surprise. You hated surprises for reasons, but seeing Sehun standing in front of your door as you watched from behind, a tinge of eagerness sparked on your skin.

“Hi.”

Sehun, being so wrapped up in conjuring up the nerve to knock on your door, is startled shitless when he turns around to meet your questioning gaze.

“Did you need something, Sehun?” You asked.

Sehun shook his head, his eyes being hidden slightly from his falling bangs. He looked younger, less brooding, and you noticed that he was freshly showered and his fluffy locks proved your speculation. There’s a waft of aftershave as well, and a scent of freshness that you picked up. You were still debating whether you liked the smell of seaside breeze with earthy wood when Sehun responded with, “Have you eaten yet?”

You willed your hopes to simmer down, to not jump to a favorable conclusion. He’s not inviting you to eat with him, is he? Though a part of you, the part that finds Sehun’s attractiveness insatiable, hopes with every fiber of your being to be allowed the time to bask in his beauty, another part of you dreads having to expose just how utterly banal your person actually was.

“I have, actually,” you lied easily.

Sehun, you realize, was actually easier to read than you think. Since his countenance didn’t range very far from each one, it was easy to see the slightest change and the small flash of disappointment in his eyes made you regret your words, but you weren’t about to go back on your words now.

“How about later, then?” He asked.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on, maybe next time.” Your heart thundered uncomfortably in your chest as you rejected him again. You felt your resolve fading the longer he stood there, contemplating whether he should say more. It wasn’t like this when you talked to him last week, but then again, you also had a bit to drink.

Alas, Sehun agreed, quietly retreating back to his unit with a lighter chest. It was four pm, the perfect time to squeeze in a nap but as you stripped down and crawled into bed, you found it impossible to shut down. Thoughts of why Sehun had approached you and why he was so adamant on having a meal with you prevented any sleep to come to you.

Finally at quarter past six, you decided fuck it. Sehun opened the door, not surprised to see you-- he probably looked through the peephole, something you could never do because you could barely reach it.

“Still want to grab dinner?” You blurted.

Sehun quirked a semi-smile, and nodded. He stepped back into his apartment, to grab a jacket he tells you, and you got a glimpse of his living space. You couldn’t see much, not from the entrance, but what you could see was a charcoal grey L-shaped sofa, a very sizable television mounted on the wall. The other side was the kitchen, similar to your own unit except reversed in layout.

Sehun emerged from his room wearing a black hoodie with the word Russel across the chest and a circle of stars on one of the sleeves. “Let’s go.”

While Sehun seemed as cool as a cucumber, not minding the small fact that you randomly going out for dinner together wasn’t something random. He even whistled to an unknown tune, as if the crisp air was singing him a song and he was responding with one of his own. The keys in his pocket even played to the rhythm of his steps.

The best thing about living in the city was that almost everything was accessible on foot, especially places to eat. Even as the sun was setting and people should’ve been home, having dinner, there was a considerable amount of people on the streets, running errands or doing like you and Sehun and looking for a place to eat out.

“Where are we going?” You asked. It had barely occurred to you that there was no prior agreement on what to eat, let alone knowledge on what your preferences were.

“I was thinking soup, with noodles.” That sounded pleasant with the weather so you quickly agreed. “I know just the place then.”

You and Sehun walked by your usual diner, passed by a Japanese restaurant, a ramen place which you thought was the destination, but he continued on until you arrived at a specialized knife cut noodle soup restaurant.

A cozy, traditional style restaurant was not something you had imagined Sehun having in mind. It was the perfect ambiance to the blue hue that was morphing into black by the second just outside; a juxtaposition to the warmth that the earthy tones of the restaurant provided.

A nice middle-aged lady greeted you from where she stood across the room, serving a table of older men. Sehun held up two fingers to indicate a party of two, and she gestured to an empty table by the window.

It was silent as you perused the menu. It was a small selection but straight-to-the-point with all the flavors being relatively traditional. While you decide on what to get, Sehun seemed to have already known what to get from the minute he walked in so he began to set the table, placing a napkin from the dispenser and a pair of silver metal chopsticks and spoon on top. Much to your astonishment, he does the same for you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, not forgetting your manners. He hummed in response.

“Have you decided?” He asked. You were debating between the chicken and the kimchi noodle soup.

“Hm...yeah, I’m ready.”

The same lady came by and jotted down your orders: Sehun ordered the perilla seed noodle soup while you chose the chicken. You both thanked her when she brought over two cups of water before slipping into silence. You busied yourself by finding interest in the streets. It was finally dark now, with the sun gone, the sky was painted in indigo. Unfortunately, the stars are barely visible under the city lights. In your old town, you would’ve been able to see all the stars, could’ve drawn out constellations if you set your mind to it.

“So,” Sehun started. It was so quiet that the sound of his voice caused you to jolt. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized. “I think they put this in the wrong box.”

At this, Sehun presented an envelope you recognize all too well. The seal of NCF rested on the left corner, followed by your name and address. Your stomach gripped, the pain eliciting all the nerves in your body upfront with hairs standing stiff and tall. This was the reason he wanted to have dinner?

You tried to mask your surprise. “Maybe it’s another Y/N at the apartment,” you excused. Your voice was steady, leveled, more than you could say for your body which was quivering from inside out. You played it off as if you were shivering from the sudden gust of wind when a guest walked in.

Sehun shook his head. “I checked with Mr. Kim,” your kind albeit nosy landlord. “He insisted on passing it onto you, but I told him that I would be seeing you tonight.”

How does one learn the art of teleportation because at that moment, you wanted to disappear into thin air. You weren’t ready to face this.

“Hey, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. I’m not asking any questions.” Sehun reassured you. If he noticed the sudden paleness in your face or breaths you were stifling, he didn’t comment on them.

Your food arrived, and you both ate in silence. The food, although smelled delightful, tasted bland on your tongue that was as heavy as lead. Not a soul in this city knew of your past, of your family background whatsoever. There was never any need for anyone to know that your mother died of cancer or that your father was doing time.

“How do you know Liah?”

You glanced up from the ground where your eyes had been fixed. Sehun and you had left the restaurant after the quiet meal, and were ambling back to the apartment. You were stunned, not because of the way her name fell off his lips so naturally, you reasoned, but because he’s decidedly inquiring about your relationship with Liah. You gave Sehun the cliff notes version of your story, sparing him the unnecessary drama that had ensued. It was all ancient history since Liah was no longer in your life.

Sehun listened as you recounted living at school with Liah, after which you considered asking him the same question back but couldn’t form the words. While you debated, Sehun does the unexpected and revealed, “Whatever you think you saw at the club last week, Liah and I aren’t a thing.”

There was a park along the way, but cutting through it made the trek longer. Despite that, Sehun gestured with a nod towards the pathway lighted by warm street lights that did almost nothing to illuminate the cracked pavement.

“We met that same night.”

Without him telling you that, you figured that Liah would be bold enough to make a move on Sehun on their first meeting. Liah was known to be your building’s playgirl, if you will. Word spread around that she had slept with just about every guy in the dorms; you wouldn’t put it past her that she has done it in your shared room but you can’t say for sure since she’s never done it while you were in.

Suddenly, there was a small pit of anger bubbling in you, the source of it being the memories of Liah tormenting you, but what fueled it, you don’t know. You felt your walls close in, and soon you were just plain annoyed.

You shrugged your shoulders while hugging the package to your chest like some anchor, letting it fall heavily under your neck. “It’s honestly none of my business, even if you were. A thing.” You didn’t really mean to sound so cold, detached, but you couldn’t help the ice from freezing through your words, rendering even yourself speechless at how foreign you sounded.

Sehun stayed quiet at that, shoving his hands further in his pockets.

“Listen,” you stopped in your tracks, making him stop as well before he turned to face you. “I’d appreciate it if you could just forget about this,” you held up the crumpled mail, “and maybe not associate me with Liah anymore. You probably have your reasons, and so do I, to ask you for this favor. It’ll be the one and only that I ask, so, please.”

Sehun didn’t answer for a while. His face was lax, void of any emotion, as he looked at your face. Thanking the poor lighting, you doubt he could see how red you were turning. Your heart raced faster with every beat until you were sure it would burst. Then, his face crumbled into a look of confusion and desperation. “I can’t figure you out, Y/N.”

It came out quicker than both of you would’ve expected when you shot back, “Then don’t.”

Sehun shifted his weight to the opposite leg, showing for a split second that your sharp words affected him. He struggled to say something back, and when he didn’t for a minute, you turned and continued walking back to the apartment.

The sigh Sehun released sounded of defeat laced with frustration before there was the sound of shoes scuffling as he jogged beside you.

“Bongsan Hospital,” Sehun started, “About four years ago, that’s where we first met, sort of.”

Bongsan Hospital was where your mother stayed during her chemotherapy. She was in and out of several facilities, getting treatment here and there, until finally in your second year of high school, she was admitted into Bongsan.You remember too many nights of sleeping on those god awful chairs they had. In the winters you’d bring a thick blanket for your mother and a small one for yourself. In the summer, you’d sit in the garden as you waited hours and hours for your mother to receive treatment.

“What? How? I thought you were from the city this whole time,” you hesitated, stopping again in your tracks.

“I am,” he answered vaguely, prompting you to raise a brow, asking for elaboration. “What? I grew up in the city.”

“Sehun, the hospital,” you deadpanned.

“My mother’s doctor referred her to Bongsan, said the air was better for the condition of her lungs,” he explained.

“Sehun, you are about the vaguest man on Earth.” You said impatiently. You hadn’t pegged Sehun to be a man of such tact, beating around the bush like a young boy hinting his mother for a new toy would do.

Sehun fought a smile from spreading across his face. “Do you remember a conversation that you had with a woman in the garden? She was painting when her palette was blown over by the wind?”

The wheels in your head turned and turned until you recalled the memory. You remember helping a woman who frequently painted in the hospital’s garden when her paint palette had blown away, which she graciously thanked you for doing. She complimented your floral dress which you had only worn because your mother said that she missed the times when you were younger and she’d dressed you up. “Like the princess you are,” she had said.

The next thing you remember was the woman asking if she could paint you, sitting on the verdant patch of land. What you don’t remember was a certain male being there.

“What about the woman? Was she your mother?” Sehun nodded, making a show of acknowledging your keen memory. “But why don’t I remember you?”

“Well, you ran away afterwards. I was only approaching when I heard my mom asking you to model for her,” he revealed, a fond smile gracing his lips. “You ran off so fast, you really don’t remember running into me?”

You did, after the fact of him mentioning it. However, you don’t recall ever speaking to the woman-- Sehun’s mom-- again after the incident, and you haven’t been back to Bongsan since your mom’s passing.

Which reminded you to ask Sehun, “How is she doing? Your mom.”

“Good, I think. I visit when I have time, but she doesn’t want me to see her ‘not in her best form’. Her words, not mine.” He said, grinning when he finally sees something other than a frown that you’ve been wearing since dinner.

It took a while but you both eventually made it back home. Sehun was fairly quiet the rest of the way home, and likewise you didn’t know what to say. It would be misleading to say that he was a gentleman and walked you to your door since he lived right across from you, but your heart stuttered at the fleeting idea nevertheless.

“I think I owe you an apology,” you said. “For walking off and for speaking so harshly.”

The smile Sehun gave you was affable, and dare you say adorable. “I think I can take whatever you throw my way, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but think that his words were meant for more meaning than one.

“Go on in,” he jerked his chin towards your apartment and you do so after offering him a closed lipped smile. “I’ll see you around,” he offered, leaving you the slightest chance to say otherwise.

That night, you dreamt of your mother, but unlike the many times she’s appeared in your dreams, this one didn’t leave you waking in cold sweat and screaming for her.

#exo scenarios #oh sehun #exo sehun #exo series #sehun fanfic #sehun scenarios #sehun fluff #sehun angst #angst #fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #exo angst #exo fanfic #sehun

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luvknow · 5 years ago

Text

entangled | kim seungmin

genre: spider-man!seungmin x radio dj!reader feat. 3racha & kim woojin | spider-man au ; radio dj au ; college au ; friends-to-lovers summary: you hate spiders and you hate man and the gods above blessed you with spider-man. wc: 17.3k

It was 10:00 pm on a Wednesday - just after your weekly broadcast of the college town’s beloved radio show, Moonlight Radio. You’re backed up in the corner farthest from the door and it seems there’s no way for you to escape your current situation. With your hands shaking, goosebumps crawling over every inch of your skin, and having absolutely no weapon to save yourself, you thought about how your plants were going to die now that you were one hundred percent certain that you, too, were going to perish.

“Hey, ready to go -?” Seungmin entered the studio, raising a curious brow at your jittery form on the opposite side of the room. As his co-host and close friend, of course he knows you quite well and he knew you were a bit, um, unique but this was beyond his scope of knowledge filed under your name in his mental filing cabinet.

“What the heck are you doing?” he asked.

“S-Spider,” you stuttered, shakily pointing in a direction that lead him to nowhere.

“Another one? That’s like the fifth one this week. Where?”

“N-Near this mic stand.”

“Really? They keep getting closer to you... Maybe they like you ~”

Your glossy eyes glared at the playful brunette. “I hope it bites you when you kill it.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill it, so either way you lose.”

“You’re such a spider sympathizer.”

“Hey, spiders play a vital role in our ecosystem! They’re excellent at regulating insect populations. Would you rather have an overpopulation of mosquitoes and other bugs that can fly and easily jump on your face?”

“No…”

“Ok then, let me do my good deed for the day and set this little guy free.”

Seungmin took one of your script papers that sat next to the eight-legged demon and scooped it up without a problem. It was moments like these when you thought he was the bravest boy you’ve ever met and you hated how often those moments came because one day, without thinking, you’d slip up and say it out loud. He cracked one of the windows open and gently shook the spider free from the paper.

“Can spiders survive a ten-story drop like that?” you asked once the waves of relief calmed your body, mind, and soul.

“I’ve seen a few that have,” he answered simply. “Now are you ready to go? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, let me get my stuff. Where are we going?”

“Where do you think?”

“Five-star restaurant where the bathrooms have those people that hand you a towel after washing your hands and you should tip them out of courtesy.”

“How about a five-piece fried chicken meal with a grumpy Woojin who demands a 25 percent tip?”

“Not quite as luxurious, but seeing Woojin makes up for that. Lead the way, my trusty steed!”

“I should be the knight riding the steed after saving you from spiders all the time, not the steed itself!”

“Same difference.”

Wednesdays followed a very strict schedule: your morning routine, classes until late afternoon, studying and a snack, meet up with Seungmin to go over the script and listen to what music he and the boys picked out, run through the show, and finally end the night with a super late dinner at the chicken place Woojin worked at. Sometimes you and Seungmin would spice it up and eat somewhere with vegetables, but that was only when consecutive Wednesdays at Woojin’s Work made you both feel gross. Even though you were in the last stretch of college and your courses were piling on the difficulty and workload, the weeks were bearable when it was spent in the studio with Seungmin and the town listening in for a couple of hours.

The idea of co-hosting a radio show together sounded ridiculous when him, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung first proposed it to you. The show was already super successful without you, so what was the point? What would three up-and-coming producers and Seungmin with his superstar personality want with someone like you? You had no idea how to work a Launchpad or whatever applications they used to make music. Hyunjin was already in charge of the social media aspect and Jeongin took care of the website and design stuff. Their team was pretty much complete and ready to go on-air - really, you’d just be taking up space.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Seungmin reassured that night. “You’d be like a co-host!”

“Wouldn’t you three be the co-hosts?” you asked the oh-so internet famous 3RACHA.

“I’d love to, but I already have a ton on my plate,” Chan sighed. “It’d be too much for me to handle.”

“I don’t like doing that corny radio talk,” Changbin wrinkled his nose.

“I just didn’t wanna do it,” Jisung admitted shamelessly.

“Ah, so I’m your last resort?” you teased.

“Yes, but you’re our first last resort ~”

“Well, when you say it that way… What exactly does being a co-host entail?”

Seungmin pulled up the radio show’s website on his laptop that had an unthinkable number in bright red located near the envelope icon. “All the questions in the inbox on our website are overflowing and it’s getting harder for me to answer all of it. It’s hard for me to answer them when we’re on-air, too. And these three aren’t exactly the best when it comes to the more relationship-centric asks… You were the only one I could think of that I could trust handling and answering these properly.”

“Wow, really?”

“Of course! I’d come to you for advice all the time in high school, remember?”

Yes, you remembered Seungmin would come to you now and again ask for advice on college, or dating, or even what he should have for dinner, but you never thought much of it until now. To have him ask you to handle such a heavy role on a radio show all because he treasured those late-night phone calls with you made your heart do that weird fluttery thing you didn’t dare try to decipher.

Curse Seungmin and his weird poetic way with words… Who allowed him to read fiction after high school?

“Is that the reason why you asked me?” Clearly, your cheeks were blushing only because the sun was shining brightly on the Quad and not because you were flattered he asked you first.

“I truly can’t think of another person who would be more capable of this job than you,” he told you sincerely.

“So will you join our shit show?” Changbin begged with his big, puppy eyes. Now how could you refuse after that?

“Fine, but the second I get hate mail, I’m tapping out.”

“Deal. We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Surprisingly, it didn’t happen, at least not in the past six months since you’ve joined the show. The audience welcomed you with open arms the second they heard you answer their questions with such honesty and care. There were some questions that you’d struggle with, like very boy-specific questions that only a dude could answer, so Seungmin took care of those. But together, you and Seungmin were an unstoppable duo with great chemistry and everyone could hear it in the way you’d giggle at his lame jokes or the way he’d ‘wow ~’ at one of your more profound answers.

The only questions you both struggled answering were ones that delved into either of your love lives. You both would get tripped up just a little bit when asked if either of you were seeing someone or were interested in someone, but the questions that had you both stuttering like the air was below freezing to the point that no coherent sentences were being formed?

“Are you two dating?”

“Have you two ever thought about it before?”

“You guys fit the friends-to-lovers trope so perfectly!”

“N-No, that’s not how it is at all…!” you argued to the callers after the millionth time. No matter how many times you’d get asked this, you don’t think you’ll ever overcome the embarrassment. “We’re just really good friends!”

“I don’t know, _____, maybe we should face the inevitable,” a flirty Seungmin winked.

“Seungmin!” you hissed while a giggling 3RACHA fell out of their chairs. Well, he clearly got over the embarrassment...

Almost every show, the chatroom and inbox had sprinkles of comments about how cute you two would be if you ever got together. Because you see those same sentences nearly every single time you opened up the inbox, the thought of it was hard to ignore and push to the back of your mind.

What would it be like if you two actually dated?

“Yo, _____ ~” Seungmin sang across from you at the table.

“Huh?”

“Spider got ya that spooked?”

“Nah, I’m ok now. Thanks to my hero.”

“That’s right, I am your hero,” he boasted proudly. “But really, is there something on your mind? You seem a bit spacey-er than usual.”

“It’s nothing bad. I was just reminiscing about my up-and-coming on the show for some reason.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’ve improved a lot since then.”

“You think so? I feel like I haven’t done much… Like I haven’t made an impact yet.”

“You’re crazy! The show wouldn’t be where it is now without you. You know, Minho did the math for fun last week -”

“Ha!”

“... and calculated how much more often people are sending stuff in since the day you joined, and he said it’s increased by like 100 percent since then!”

“That’s just double, isn’t it…?”

“Yeah, but a bigger number sounds better, so that’s what we tell the department heads when they ask. So don’t think you haven’t left an impact on this show - it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Really, when was he so poetic!? It was a dangerous trait. “Thanks, Seungmin. I wouldn’t be as confident if you weren’t my co-host.”

“I’m sure you would have done just fine if it were Changbin or anyone else.”

“Maybe so, but it wouldn’t be as fun or memorable.”

“Stop being so soft and order your chicken.” He was terrible at faking being grumpy because his cheeky smile shined brightly anyways.

“Hey, moochers,” a tired Woojin greeted before falling in the seat next to Seungmin. “The usual?”

“You know it.”

“Ok, let me just sit here for a couple minutes.”

“Go do your job!”

“Hey, while you guys get to sit on nice comfy chairs in the studio for a couple of hours, I have to stand for six while waiting on people!’

“It’s not even that busy today!” Seungmin was right - you two and another couple were the only ones in the restaurant at the moment.

“It was busy earlier, ok.”

“Earlier today around 5:00 pm, during the city’s busiest hours, Spider-Man has yet again saved a citizen from tragedy -”

“Ugh,” you shuddered in disgust at the sight of the famous vigilante popping up on the screen.

Seungmin tried not to look too offended. He’s known your incessant fear of spiders for how long now? And he’s been Spider-Man for what, a hot minute? And he had no idea you felt this strongly about him? He’s not that surprised, but at the same time he is because it’s not like Spider-Man was a real spider… His suit didn’t even really resemble one! Maybe it was the big, buggy eyes that haunted you. He’d have to consult with Woojin about that later.

“You don’t like Spider-Man…?” he dared to ask.

“Not really. He has spider in his name, for Christ’s sake. Doesn’t he know how common arachnophobia is? How is he supposed to save the town when a hefty chunk of citizens are probably scared of him!?”

“But he doesn’t even look like a spider?”

“He doesn’t need to when he has a huge black one on his chest.”

He’ll consult Woojin about that, too. “So if you were in danger - like, backed up against an alley with a gun pointed at your head, or something - and Spider-Man swooped down, scooped you up, and jumped far away from the gunman using his web, you’d be more scared of Spider-Man than the bad guy?”

“Of course! I hate heights, too, remember? A man dressed like a spider capturing me in their arms and swinging from skyscraper-to-skyscraper is literally my biggest fear.”

If that was really how you felt about Spider-Man, then Seungmin prayed you would stay out of trouble. He couldn’t even imagine how loud you’d scream if he ever saved you from a situation you got yourself stuck in, not to mention how hard it would be to not tease you about it face-to-face. But knowing you and knowing his terrible luck, one of these days he was going to have to save you from God-knows-what. The only possible situation he could think of was you getting stuck high up on the fire escape, or something stupid like that.

Up on the television, the city’s hero was recorded swinging down using his web thingies like some man spider hybrid pendulum kicking one of the several armed robbers right in the chin. With the second robber, he used his weird webby thing again, but this time used one hand to aim it at his gun and yanked it away from him while using the other hand to trap him between the webs and concrete floor. The other robbers tried to run away, but not before Man-Spider-Dude flung himself forward like some alternate universe Tarzan and used his webbing to cuff their limbs together.

“See, that was kind of cool, wasn’t it?” Seungmin asked, hoping the reporters recorded him cool enough for you to change your mind.

“Eh. Kind of showy, if you ask me.”

Just as you said that, you had to suffer through witnessing Spider-Man finger-gun at the phone camera and salute the citizens of the town before swinging deep into the concrete jungle once more. Was that necessary? Sheesh, what a dramatic exit.

Your co-host watched you roll your eyes at his showboating and turn your attention back on the totally normal boys. Beside him, a snickering Woojin teasingly nudged him with his elbow. He wasn’t that cringey, was he!?

“Well, he saved some innocent people and a lot of money, at least,” Seungmin frowned, so desperately trying to redeem himself.

“That’s really the only upside to superhero-wannabe vigilantes. Otherwise, they’re totally cocky. They’re like a bunch of frat bros.”

Woojin audibly laughed at that one and that’s when Seungmin knew there was no hope in trying to persuade you… But Kims never backed down! That’s what made him and Woojin so unstoppable!

So it couldn’t hurt to try anyways, right?

On a warm and early Sunday evening, when the night was still young, the sun fell between golden hour and dusk. This was when walking home was a pain in the ass because the rays would hit building windows at all the right angles and attempt to burn your retinas. Even so, you couldn’t be mad in the least, because the paper bag filled with crispy french fries cradled in your arms was going to be inhaled in just a couple of blocks once you reached home.

It was beautiful nights like tonight where you felt a little lonely. Yes, living and being alone was calming after a stressful week at school and your social meter was at an all time low, but sometimes you just wanted to share a night in with someone special. You first tried to hang out with Seungmin to avoid the pressure of actually finding a significant other, but when he told you that his internship scheduled him at ungodly hours, including Sundays, you now had to find someone to take his place if you ever wanted to.

Kim Seungmin… your co-host, confidant, and the only boy you wanted to spend your Sundays with. What did that say about you? Were you desperate? Missing him? A typical friends-to-lovers trope, as your audience had put it? You’d worry about that later.

The sun wasn’t so blinding anymore when a shadowed figure blocked the light. Before you could make sense of who or what the figure was, you were promptly knocked down by said thing onto the very hard, very cold sidewalk.

Ginormous, white bug eyes with no pupils stared deep into your frightened soul. Spider-Man, dressed in all his spandex glory, scuffed up and a little disheveled, hovered over your heavily breathing form. From behind the mask, Seungmin froze when he realized that yes, this was definitely you he had knocked down and he couldn’t tell if you were terrified, surprised, furious, or all of the above. He felt so bad that he almost gave you a heart attack, but he had to admit you looked kind of cute looking at him with your big, curious eyes like you wanted to swat him off of you with an over-sized fly swatter. He had to hold back wanting to brush your hair that stuck to your face.

What a coincidence for him to have run into you, huh? It must have been fate, or just really bad karma on your end.

“Hi,” Spider-Man greeted you casually, his face hovering very close to your own. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“N-N-No…!”

“Good. Hurting citizens is kind of against my mission.”

“He went this way!” you both heard off in the distance.

Spider-Man groaned loudly before hopping off of you and extending a hand to help you up. Before you could verbally reject, your body was already moving before you knew it and you took his hand graciously.

He leaned in closely and you hoped his spidey sense couldn’t detect the goosebumps erupting all over your skin.

“If those journalists ask, you didn’t see me,” You could only nod silently. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

In a blink of an eye, the town’s hero shot his web to some random building and flew away, but not before giving you a little salute. The last two minutes didn’t seem real - had you really just met Spider-Man? Well, more like did Spider-Man really just knock you flat on your ass? You were standing in your spot not moving a single muscle as the entire block took pictures and videos of your wide-eyed face staring blankly at where the hero you feared most once stood. A swarm of journalists turned the corner and following the audience’s attention, going straight to you.

“Did Spider-Man fly through here?” one of them asked frantically.

Mindlessly, without blinking, you pointed in the opposite direction he flew to and that’s when you watched the parasitic flock search for the town’s hero.

From up above on a rooftop of a corporate building not too far away, Seungmin watched you keep your word about not revealing his location like he asked, despite your fear of both spiders and man. Did he scare you even more? Or maybe you were just being nice. Either way, something about you protecting his location was kind of adorable… like you might kind of like his other self now.

Oh, but that wasn’t the case at all.

“My french fries!” you cried out to the Gods above.

Every single french fry you were dying to devour from the paper bag scattered in an artistic gradient behind your shadow, with fat pigeons picking at what once was yours. Seungmin sighed tiredly, watching you sadly walk away from the kit of pigeons. His wishful thinking barely lasted a second and now not only did he owe you ‘one’ of something, he now owes you a bag of french fries, too. Maybe if he got the extra large size, you’d hate him a little less.

Your fear of Spider-Man because he had ‘spider’ in his name and a silhouette embroidered on his suit? Nonexistent. Hatred for Spider-Man because he was clumsy, insensitive, and most definitely A Man? Absolutely.

‘I owe you one,’ was what he told you last, and you’d make sure that he’d owe you one big time.

You spent the entire walk home trying to process if what just happened actually happened. Let’s rewind and review: you were studying at the library until you got too tired and too hungry to care anymore; got the freshest, crispiest bag of french fries you could find; happily made your way home; got the shit knocked out of you by Spider-Man; and now you were walking home french fry-less. It sounds like a poorly-written fan fiction, but yup, that’s truly what happened and there was no denying it

The night was no longer young or beautiful now that you didn’t have a bag full of golden, crispy deliciousness. It was miserable.

Seungmin, while still in his suit and hiding in a random alley from the journalists, felt his phone buzz that was tucked away inside of the suit. After taking it out, he was too afraid to answer once he saw your photo glow up the screen. The picture was from your eighteenth birthday, your last birthday before you both entered college. Seungmin booked a reservation at this fancy restaurant that you two would promise one day, when you both had money, that you’d dine there like it was no one’s business. Little did you know, he planned a small get together with a handful of friends and ate like kings! When it was time for dessert, Seungmin brought out your favorite cake, sang happy birthday with everyone, then smudged a whole bunch of the cream frosting onto your cheeks and nose. Normally, you’d be mad, but how could you when he planned all of this?

With the dark surroundings and the only thing lighting up your face was the candles, he captured the perfect moment of you laughing and tasting the cake.

After taking off his mask, Seungmin answered awkwardly. “Hello?”

“Guess what the fuck just happened to me!?”

“You saw a spider?”

“Worse! I saw that no good Spider-Man!”

Seungmin could only pout at your response. “Why do you sound so bitter?”

“That asshat swung down like a vulture and landed on top of me!”

“Sounds like a dream come true, if you ask me.”

“No, because that clumsy, pompous vigilante made me drop all of my french fries from my favorite place!”

Although you were complaining to Spider-Man about Spider-Man, said Spider-Man always thought your whining was adorable. “The place next to the bakery?”

“The very same! Ugh, I just wanted to call you to complain.”

“Seems like that’s all I’m good for these days.”

“Hey, that’s not the only reason I call you.”

“Besides discussing the show, for what other reasons do you call me?”

“I…” In retrospect, maybe he had a point - when was the last time you asked your dearest friend how he was doing? “Seungmin, my favorite friend, how have you been lately?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sorry. I promise to call and not complain to you more often.”

“Thank you. And to answer your question. I’ve been ok.”

“Just ok? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Did he want to talk about how Spider-Man, the show, school, and how his lack of love-life was consuming his entire life to his closest friend? Not really. “Maybe another time. Are you free to hang out, though? I could use some company.”

“For you, of course. At what time?”

“Hm…” Seungmin took a quick second to listen to his surroundings. It seemed that the reporters and passers-by stopped looking for him by now, so maybe he was in the clear. “I can be at your place in half an hour?”

“Sounds good, I’ll be waiting. Can we get food? I’m hungry ~”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you soon.”

After hanging up, Seungmin dared to put his mask back on and swing as fast as he could all the way back to his apartment. It was unavoidable that a couple citizens were able to sneak in a few pictures as he was swinging, but as long as they didn’t see him land on his apartment complex rooftop and run inside, he was in the clear. After changing, there was one stop he had to make before heading over.

You waited patiently for your boredom-saving, famished-fulfilling hero to arrive at your doorstep. It’s true that neither of you had the time to hang out outside of planning the show. Other than that, there was not enough time in the day throughout the school week to see each other. With your classes piling up and his internship, neither of you could match up your schedules or make enough time to grab some dinner. At least tonight would make up for lost time.

You happily greeted a sneaky Seungmin when you heard him knocking. He was holding something behind his back and had his creepy, mischievous smile on his lips.

“What are you hiding…?” you hesitated.

Without a word, he pulled out an extra big paper bag full of french fries from your favorite restaurant - the very same french fries Spider-Man had knocked out of your hands. Only this time, there were more and it came with a handsome boy on the side.

Seungmin adored the way your eyes lit up at his little gift.

“You didn’t!” you gasped, clutching your heart to your chest.

“Do you love me or do you love me?”

“I love you ~!” you sang, welcoming your beloved guest into your humble abode. “Ah, what did I do to deserve you, Kim Seungmin?”

You didn’t do anything. You already had him wrapped around your finger the moment you two met.

Another Wednesday had arrived and that meant another show was to air. Tonight, the moon was so full that even at the darkest hour, the town was still brightly lit. It was the perfect night for Moonlight Radio.

“And we’re back!” you cheered happily into the microphone. “For those of you just joining in, you are listening to Moonlight Radio with me, _____, my partner in crime Seungmin, and our city’s version of Migos, Djs 3RACHA ~!”

“Our city’s version of Migos…?” Seungmin asked, quirking a brow.

“Yeah, you know… The American rappers?”

“I know who they are, but what makes them like the Migos in any way?”

“There’s three of them and they rap, what else is there to compare?”

“Multi-platinum album sales.”

“They’ll get there someday.”

“At least someone believes in us,” Jisung pouted.

“Speaking of beliefs, you guys wouldn’t believe who _____ ran into last Sunday.”

You squint your eyes at your smirking co-host. “The listeners don’t need to know.”

“Of course they do! Who doesn’t want to brag about meeting Spider-Man?”

“I didn’t even meet him, he body-slammed into me!”

“Ah, you’re just being dramatic. What do you guys think?” But in his mind, Seungmin knew you were totally not being dramatic. Was your body still a little sore from that night, too?

The phone lines were lighting up at the mention of the oh-so famous and widely-beloved superhero. Now you had to spend the remaining half of the show talking about how you met the hybrid of your two worst fears.

“Caller on line nine, you are on-air,” Seungmin answered.

“Holy shit, did you really meet Spider-Man?”

You sighed heavily into your mic. “If that’s what you call meeting someone these days, then I guess I met Spider-Man.”

“Whoa, that’s so dope! What’s he like?”

“He’s… charming… I’ll give him that.”

Seungmin’s ears perked up, his ego already escalating into the clouds before he could stop it. You, the first person he’s ever met to admit that they don’t like his alter-ego aloud, thought he was charming? You should have said so earlier!

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess. He was like, ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ and I was like, ‘No?’ and he was all like, ‘Good, ‘cuz hurting citizens isn’t in my agenda’ or something corny like that. I guess it comes with the whole superhero package.”

Hey, that was not corny… “He sounds like a pretty cool guy.”

“Yeah, until he made me catapult my french fries behind me.”

“Is that literally the only reason why you don’t like him?”

“No, it’s mainly because I hate spiders. But also yes, because he said he owes me one for chasing away those pesky journalists that were hunting him down. Spider-Man, if you’re out there listening, this is my reminder to you that I’ll be waiting on my ‘one’ that you owe.”

Oh, great. Seungmin thought that if there was anyone he wouldn’t have to see again as Spider-Man, he thought it’d be you, but now you were actually waiting for him to find you! And for what, because he ‘owed’ you something? Although those journalists were annoying and he was very thankful you got them off his back... But what exactly were you expecting from him? What were you thinking he owed you?

Seeing you for a second time posed some high risks. You’re not dumb, and Seungmin knows that. If he were to slip up and give away his identity in some form just once during his interactions with you, you’d figure him out in an instant! But this was kind of exciting, wasn’t it? You not knowing it’s him behind the red suit, scaring you a little, pretending he doesn’t know who you are - it was kind of like a game to him. So fine, he’ll give you whatever you want the next time he meets you to satiate his excitement that isn’t fighting crime, but after that, he’ll stay as far away from you as possible.

“No matter where I go, spiders somehow always find me.”

“Isn’t it scary to be around something you fear all the time?”

“It’s absolutely terrifying. I guess it’s time I face my fears of spiders, man, and Spider-Man superheroes alike.”

“You’re so brave. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Hey, I hear that sarcasm,” you scolded at your chuckling partner. “But I hope this encourages you all to do the same one day. Go skydiving, ask out that cute person in your class, try something different from the menu! Whatever your fears may be, Moonlight Radio will always be here to support you. And with that, we bid you goodnight.”

“Stay safe out there, everyone! This is Moonlight Radio, signing off.”

When the glowing red light shut off, both you and Seungmin sighed in relief. This concluded the most stressful point of your week and you could relax a little until next time. Per usual, you and Seungmin were supposed to eat with Woojin at his chicken restaurant, but you noticed how he was packing up his stuff in urgency.

“What are you in a rush for?”

Shit. How was Seungmin supposed to tell you that he had a sixth spidey sense and sensed someone nearby was in big trouble and he had to change into his spandex right away? “Uh, I forgot I have an assignment due at midnight.”

“Aw, so no chicken tonight?”

“I’ll make it up to you next time, I promise.”

Your favorite boy ruffled your hair into a clumpy mess in front of your face. If he were to see the tiny pout on your lips, then there was a chance he’d give up being Spider-Man tonight just to be with you and what kind of hero would he be if he did that? Not a very good one.

He’ll see you later, anyways.

Before you could object, he was already out the door.

“Hi hello, we would like some chicken, too,” a whiny Changbin noted.

At least you’d have some company tonight. Hanging out with Seungmin versus hanging out with 3RACHA had two totally different vibes. One was chill, relaxing, and comforting while the other was loud, exciting, but oh-so tiring. So much so that you had to tap out early, luckily right before the news came on with yet again another segment on Spider-Man.

On the walk home, you wondered what kind of hours he worked. Was he fighting crime right now, at the peak of darkness? He couldn’t have been a nine-to-five kind of man because crime didn’t have an hourly paycheck. Maybe he strictly worked the night shift and slept in the daytime? That couldn’t have been very fun though, everyone needs a little sun to feel some sort of joy, even if he was a nasty, buggy, creepy little crawler -

“Hey.”

“Ah!!”

From the street lamp above, the bug of the hour dropped just inches from your face, hanging upside down on a thin string of web from his wrists. He was so close and came down so fast that you screamed and fell backwards. Was this it? Was this how you were going to die? From a heart attack and choking on air?

Seungmin mentally slapped himself for not knowing you’d react that way. Idiot-min, of course they would! They practically cry at the sight of a real spider! Now he probably owed you 'two' of whatever you were going to ask...

After getting down from the streetlight, he rushed over to help you up. “Are you all right?”

This time, you swatted his hand away and got up on your own, just as you wished you’d done to the damn arachnid the first time. It took a couple more moments to catch your breath and ease your heart rate, like you just finished running a marathon. If you didn’t hate Spider-Man before, Seungmin’s sure as hell you do now.

“I think I just had a mini heart-attack.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“Aren’t you supposed to help citizens, not crash into them or fall from the clouds and be all up in their faces!?”

The masked man scratched his head sheepishly. “There’s a bit of a gray area between ‘help’ and ‘harm’.”

“Yeah, clearly!” Now that you’ve come to your senses, it just occurred to you that Spider-Man recognized you from the first time. Why else would he pop up on you specifically just to say ‘hey’? “Wait, do you remember me?”

Time to turn up that charm _____ talked about so much, Spider-min! “It’s hard to forget the people I crash into.”

“It must not happen often then.”

“I promise you, it doesn’t. Otherwise the town would be wiped out… Literally.”

“Wow, lucky me, huh?”

"Of course. And it’s not everyday I get to crash into someone so cute."

"Oh, don't you try and flatter me!"

It was rare for Seungmin to see you so bothered just by one person. Normally, you'd let it go and move on, but with Spider-Man, it seemed like all current and future interactions would be a lot of bickering and furrowed brows. If you were anyone else, he'd be a little hurt that someone could hate him so much, but you weren't just anyone else. You were you, and even with your annoyed expression, your blushing cheeks gave you away. You didn’t hate him.

Oh yeah, this was going to be a lot of fun for Seungmin.

"I'm not trying to flatter you, but it seems to be working regardless," he teased.

"Why are you stalking me?"

"Whoa, what do you mean!? I'm simply taking a break from saving a citizen in trouble! You and I just happened to cross paths once more, like it was fate. Didn't you want to see me again, anyways?"

"Who said that?"

"Well to paraphrase the famous _____ on Moonlight Radio, you're waiting for me to 'owe you one', isn't that right?"

You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smirking. Regardless, you were quite starstruck - when you said that he owed you one, you didn’t think he’d actually hear you! But it was kind of cool that someone so famous listened in, even if it was him of all people. “You heard that…?”

“Of course I did. It’s my favorite radio show. I also heard you think I’m charming.”

Spidey-Boy took a step forward, but you didn’t dare take one step back. You weren’t about to let some spandex-clad dude intimidate you with his flirtatious wording, even if you were totally embarrassed and wished you could go back in time and stop yourself from saying that. Really, it was so cute the way you tried to stand up to Seungmin, but again, the pink gracing your cheeks put your effort into your unwavering persona to waste. You couldn’t make eye contact with his huge, buggy eye mask, so you focused on the creepy crawly spider right on his chest that kept on growing the closer he came to you.

Then it stopped. Now you’re no longer looking at his chest, but looking at those things he called eyes. They were reflective and you could see clearly how terrified you actually looked.

He leaned in.

"Is that true, _____?" he asked. "Do you think I'm charming?"

"I-I think you're terrifying."

"But also charming, right?"

"If I say yes, will you step back?"

"Oh, sorry." Awkwardly and boyishly, the hero cleared his throat and took a step back. From a safe distance, he wasn't so bad - it's when he's ten centimeters away from your face that scared you.

"You… have a way with words."

A cute laugh came from Spidey. "That's one way to put it."

There's a short silence in between. He knew you wanted to say something by the way you were awkwardly avoiding looking at him. Seungmin would patiently wait for you, but Spider-Man…

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing, I was just wondering… Is Moonlight Radio really your favorite show?" you asked shyly.

"Of course. I wouldn't lie about something like that."

There was a little twinkle in your eyes like they held all the stars and your expression finally softened. Seungmin watched you struggle hiding your sweet smile while you stared at your shoes.

With the help of his masked identity, Seungmin could finally say the things he always wished he told you in the moment, from infinite moments before.

"You have a pretty smile."

"Huh?" Did you hear that right? Did the city's superhero call your smile pretty?

"I said…" Spidey-boy took a step closer, but kept his distance. "You have a pretty smile."

"Do you say that to all the people you crash into while running away from paparazzi?"

"No. Just the cute ones."

“Oh, my God, you are so corny! ‘Just the cute ones’, how many is that exactly? A dozen? Several dozen?”

“You know, most people would say thank you after I call them cute.”

“Well, I’m not falling for it! I’m not like most people!”

The boy chuckled again, and it sounded so sweet. “You most definitely are not.”

If this… this boy thought he could just flirt his way into your heart and forget nearly breaking your ribs, he was dead wrong! How dare he be so friendly and casual with you! It’s not like you were friends! What was his deal!?

You straightened your back and smoothed out the wrinkles in your shirt. “If that’s all, I’ll be on my way now.”

“Already? What about the ‘one’ I owe you?”

“Forget I ever said that. You’re off the hook.”

“No, that’s not right. I feel bad.” He wasn’t about to let you go that easily.

“I don’t even know what you’d owe me.”

“How about you think about it until we meet again?”

“Again? When would I even see you?”

The boy in red and blue shrugged. “By circumstance? Or perhaps you’ll get into some trouble? You seem like the type to pick fights.”

“Even if I was in trouble, who says I’d call you?”

“You wouldn’t have to. I’d come flying to your side the second I sensed something was wrong.”

You didn’t understand what that meant, but you really didn’t want to open a can of worms past midnight. “How chivalrous.”

“Thanks. So I’ll get to see you again?” he asked. Seungmin hoped he didn’t sound too desperate. He was just a simple boy who wouldn’t allow his best friend to hate his alter ego they knew nothing about, that’s all.

“If the opportunity arises ~” you sighed casually, walking past the stunned hero.

This was a side of you that Seungmin didn’t know how to handle. Never have you been so standoffish and awkward, but weirdly confident around him before. You were always your cutesy, dorky, loving self. Even when you weren’t talking to him directly, you were just as yourself around other people, even to strangers. But to Spider-Man? He didn’t know this side of you - the one that looked at him like you couldn’t tolerate breathing the same air as him. It was like he was meeting you for the very first time.

You may not like Spider-Man now, but the way you smiled for that split second and the way you entertained his stupid words with your witty responses, somewhere deep inside your cold heart, there had to be a chance that you’d come to like him. Maybe then he’ll reveal himself to you, but for now, he had to figure out how to stop his heart from beating so fast as he watched you walk away. Only you could affect him like that.

He’ll get you to like him, whether you like it or not.

It took you three days to crack and spend Saturday night researching who the fuck Spider-Man was. Thursday was spent being pouty and bitter about the night before. (“What’s up with you?” Seungmin asked. “Nothing, I just hate everyone.” “Sounds about right...”) Friday was spent playing as your own devil’s advocate trying to justify why he was the way he was. (“I guess he wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t mean to me, or anything. And he did want to pay me back for the french fries…”) And Saturday morning and afternoon was spent resisting the urge to care enough that you’d really spend a night on a weekend looking him up while texting Seungmin the entire time.

He loved every second of it.

you [6:05 pm]: did you know his suit doesn’t have any pockets? what genius designed that!?

seungminion [6:08 pm]: maybe they just forgot?

you [6:09 pm]: rookie mistake.

you [7:56 pm]: god, i really don’t like the blue and red...

seungminion [7:59 pm]: have you just been judging his uniform for the past 2 hours?

you [8:04 pm]: yeah? can’t be a great hero if he doesn’t look cool or have pockets.

seungminion [8:06 pm]: red and blue is cool!

you [8:07 pm]: if you’re 5.

you [9:42 pm]: ohhhh he visits children at the hospital! that’s actually super sweet.

seungminion [9:47 pm]: see, he’s a good guy.

you [9:54 pm]: i didn’t say he wasn’t, i just didn’t like him.

seungminion [9:55 pm]: “didn’t” like him? do you like him now?

you [9:57 pm]: i didn’t say that.

seungminion [10:01 pm]: just admit it, _____! life will be less stressful if you admit your faults.

you [10:04 pm]: i’ll never admit my faults because i’m always right.

seungminion [10:10 pm]: you’re so difficult… just open the door.

you [10:11 pm]: huh? are you here?

Seungmin couldn’t hold back his smile when he read your message. Something about you taking the time to look up what Spider-Man was all about made him miss you. It didn’t help that this gig felt like a full time job on top of everything else, taking time away to spend with you.

Things were different now that high school was over - no longer did either of you have free time after school to hang out in his car listening to music he picked out for you, or to eat at your heart’s content at whatever fast food place was open past midnight. Nights like those only come once in a blue moon nowadays. One of his biggest fears is that one day, you two would grow apart so gradually that the show would stop, spending time with you would stop, and your friendship would stop, and he wasn’t going to let that happen just because he was Spider-Man.

Seungmin was tired. Because he stayed up late on weekdays to save the city from chaos, his only time to catch up on sleep was sleeping in on the weekends and even afterwards, he felt like he could barely keep his eyes open. But when you opened the door with that adoring smile on your face, he thinks staying up for a few more hours to be with you would be worth it.

Seungmin looked tired. His hair was messy, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his shirt was missing a button. He looked like an absolute hot mess, but his warm smile said otherwise. For him to make the surprise trip over here in this state made your heart hurt.

“Are you ok?” you asked, deeply concerned.

“Yeah, I just had a rough morning… Rough week… Month…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe another time.”

“Oh, ok.” That was the second time he rejected talking about how he was feeling. You knew he wasn’t one to open up and show his vulnerability, but this couldn’t have been healthy. You would argue if you could, but his tired eyes told you he wasn’t in the mood.

You widened the door gap to let in the tired puppy and he went straight for the couch. There was a little space between his feet and the opposite arm rest and you took your spot there. Soon after though, the sleepy puppy named Seungmin took one of your couch pillows and set them on your lap for him to lay his head on.

Whoa, this was new.

“Wh-What are you…?”

“Can I just rest my eyes for a few minutes?” he mumbled.

“Of course.”

With that, and your hand gently running through his messy hair, Seungmin fell into a deep sleep within seconds. You learned that night that Seungmin snored softly, like an unworried child tucked under his blanket. This boy was such a hard worker and always put everyone before himself that it was no wonder he gets burned out so easily, but this was the first time you’ve ever seen it to this extent. Normally, he’d yawn here and there and flake on hanging out once in a while, but never had he come to your home unannounced just so he could fall asleep on your lap.

Why he found solace in a place like your couch and your lap, you had no idea, but it was nice. It felt so right, but at the same time it didn’t, but neither of you were going to question it after tonight. You would let it take its course and move on with your lives like it didn’t happen because that’s what friends do in situations like this, right?

You’d let your racing heart calm down and erase it from your memory in the morning.

Seungmin woke up with the sun and his head still on your lap. Oh no, had he fallen asleep through the whole night!? Looking up, he saw how awkwardly your neck craned just so you could sleep semi-comfortably in your position. You stayed with him the entire night. You could have woken him up for a few seconds, got off the couch, and sleep soundly in your own bed, but no, you decided to stay here with him instead.

If he could spend the entire day napping with you, he would, but not today. Today he had to get fitted into his new Spidey suit that Woojin designed.

After getting up and carefully laying you on your couch, he did the unthinkable and kissed your forehead. He’s not sure why he did that… Actually, he didn’t even realize he did that until a few seconds after. Maybe it was how cute you looked that prompted him to do so. Maybe it was a thank you for putting up with him all these years. Regardless, it felt good but it made his heart flutter, causing him to smile like an idiot. He probably shouldn’t have done that and he hoped you didn’t feel it, but it felt so right. He left your apartment with his face buried in his hands trying to stop his face heating up and massaging his cheeks because he kept on smiling too hard.

When the front door closed, you rubbed the spot on your forehead and screamed into your pillow.

You haven’t seen Seungmin in a couple of weeks. You avoided seeing him, you called in sick and skipped the show, hell you even tried going to your hometown for the weekend all because you’re sure that you were going to make a fool out of yourself the second you saw him. This was so stupid - one boy laid his head on your lap, stayed the night, then kissed your forehead and suddenly you didn't know how to act!

The only communication you two had was over text. No phone calls or facetime, hell, not even Snapchat. Just short texts of you saying you were sick, stressed, and needed your space. This wasn't so unusual, as Seungmin experienced this side of you a lot throughout college, but this happening after that night was too coincidental. Did he do something wrong? Did you know he kissed you? Fuck, he knew he shouldn't have fallen asleep!

It’s a Saturday night once more and you’ve yet again bailed on him for not feeling well. Of course at this point, he knew you were avoiding him, but were you avoiding him because he overstepped his boundaries and you were fading him out, or because you were just being your awkward self and weren’t sure how to handle this weird limbo in your relationship? He really really hoped for the latter.

Since Seungmin wasn’t going to see you tonight, Woojin had put him on duty to test out the finished version of his new all-black suit - with pockets! The spider on his chest was still just as big, but he hoped that it blended in with the black enough that you wouldn’t be so spooked when you see it, whenever that would be.

On a Saturday night, you’re stuck on the balcony of your apartment flipping through old photos of you and Seungmin. From high school to just a couple of weeks ago, you lazily flipped through the memories like you were playing with a rolodex. You’re not sure how you got here, all by your lonesome - maybe it was because his stupidly cute smile that stuck in your head even while avoiding him, or because your forehead still tingled from his lips, or because even after all your ghosting he still put in the effort to want to see you that made you miss him and go through your mobile rolodex of pictures. Seeing him in person was way too risky, so you’ll stick to this for now.

Was this it? Was this the end of the dynamic duo, live on Moonlight Radio? The two doofuses who got a little too turnt at Prom together? The two idiots who couldn’t form coherent thoughts around each other?

“_____?”

“Ah!!”

The night was dead silent until a black upside down figure called your name and popped up from behind the branches of a nearby tree. By some weird instinct, your startled self dropped your phone in case you had to defend yourself from the over-sized arachnid, all the way from your fifth floor balcony. You were thankful to Spidey-Boy for once in your life, who had caught your phone using his web thingies just before it hit the floor and shattered to pieces.

Seungmin got a hold of your phone and noticed all the pictures of him cluttering in an album dubbed ‘Seungminion’. There were pics of him with his braces, him smiling, him eating, sleeping, crying - you name it, you had it, and he remembered every moment of every picture.

What were you doing just now? Were you thinking about him? His blush couldn’t be seen through his mask, could it?

“Can I get my phone back, please?”

Your balcony railing didn’t look like it could hold a fat squirrel, but somehow a superhero was able to balance on it, squatting like a mischievous cat. Seungmin ignored your tired plea and teasingly shook the phone in front of your pouty face.

“Who’s this ~?” he asked in a sing-songy voice.

“No one, now give it back.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Even in the dark, your blush burned brightly. “No!”

“You have a lo~ot of pictures together ~”

“It’s…” you sighed, feeling your heart sink little by little. “It’s not like that.”

And his felt like it was sinking, too. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It’s funny. You would ask Seungmin that all the time and wished he’d answer you, but now that the tables have turned, you realized why he wouldn’t - you didn’t want to burden anyone with your worries.

“Maybe next time.”

“Why not now? I’m not busy, or anything. Besides, it can’t be healthy holding in whatever you’re feeling.” Seungmin was the epitome of a walking contradiction.

“I’m ok, I promise.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“How would you know? We’ve met only once before. One and a half, if you count the first time, and both were very short encounters. I don’t think you’d know how I’m feeling based on that and how my face looks.”

“Then let me get to know you.”

“H-Huh?”

“I know you don’t know me very well, and it might be weird talking to me, but I don’t like you like this.”

“Like how…?”

“When you’re not smiling.” Of course, your body failed you and you smiled softly at his corny-ass words. Fine, you’ll give him that one… “There’s that pretty smile.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious by the way - do you want to talk about it? I’m not busy for a while.”

Were you really about to tell a stranger in black spandex that you were crushing hard on your friend? What has this world come to!? But you had nothing better to do and neither did he, so why not entertain the town’s hero for a little bit?

“Have you ever liked someone before?”

“Sure,” he shrugged casually. “I like you.”

Your eye roll could not have been more dramatic. He must do this with all of his damsels he saved, right? Clearly, he's had practice trying to woo others before.

Seungmin’s favorite color was the color of your cheeks.

“No, idiot! I mean like… you know… like-like.”

“I didn’t know our beloved radio host was in middle school.”

“Ok, I knew this was a bad idea -” you said, turning to the sliding door.

“Wait, I’m kidding!” Before you could head inside, Spider-Man grabbed your hand. “I was just trying to get you to smile again. Don’t go.”

When you squeezed his hand so he wouldn’t let go, Seungmin’s confidence and ego launched into space. You definitely were starting to like Spider-Man, whether it was school-girl crush type of like-like or you just tolerated him a little more. Seungmin was living the best of both worlds with you, but by the way you were avoiding the real him because of that night and the way you blushed at every word that came out of his masked mouth, was it possible you were starting to like his other self more?

He’ll find out right now.

“So what is this about like-liking someone?” he asked, tugging your forward a bit.

You're much closer to him than you have ever been before. Not considering the first time you met, of course. You've only met less than a handful of times, but somehow the distance in between wasn't so weird.

Seungmin felt your fingers run over the webbing design on his hands. “I’m… confused?” you questioned. That’s one way to put it.

“About?”

“It’s just… I don’t know, it’s weird because I’ve known him for a long time.”

You and Seungmin have known each other for a long time: check.

“Shouldn’t that make it easier on the both of you?”

“No, that makes it harder! With any hot guy on the street, I could go up to him, confess my undying attraction to him, and if he rejects me, then fine, I’ll just never see him again. But with a friend, I gotta consider all possible outcomes if I ever had to confess to him.”

“What’s there to consider?”

“Outcome number one: he could return my feelings, we kiss, and live happily ever after.”

“Sounds promising.”

“Outcome number two: he admits to not returning my feelings, says he would like to stay friends, but it’s too awkward now and we both drift apart until we no longer can stand in the same room together.”

“Now you’re just listing the extremes.”

“That’s not extreme, outcome number three is extreme: he doesn’t return my feelings, says he would like to stay friends but only said that to be nice and he turns up at the next hangout with his new boo thang.”

“Oh, come on, you really think he would do that!?” he whined, completely insulted you’d ever think so.

“It’s a possibility! And I’m not ready to take that risk yet.”

“So you’re stuck in some limbo now, is that it?”

“Yeah… we haven’t really talked since…”

You were this close to talking about the night Seungmin blurred the black and white between friends and more than that with an eagerly-awaiting Spider-Boy, who had moved from squatting like a cat on your porch to standing like a human for once. This was the first time you've seen him posed like a human and for once, goosebumps weren't crawling on your skin at the sight of the spider on his chest.

Seungmin awaited patiently for you to continue on, but you seemed more preoccupied with his chest than your story.

"I just realized your uniform's different," you noted, taking a step back to appreciate the new color.

"Ya like? Black's pretty sexy, huh?"

"Yeah, it's much better than the red and blue."

"And look! Pockets!!"

Spider-Man shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets and you thought to yourself that your FBI agent listening in on your devices must work for Spider-Man, considering he altered his uniform per your suggestions.

You tried to play it off like you weren't creeped out. "What the heck do you need pockets for? Your Spidey-Cell?"

"Ha-ha, there's no such thing as a Spidey-Cell. It's to hold my snacks. But it can hold your phone, if you'd like?"

"Why would I want you to hold my phone…?"

"When I take you on a tour through the city tonight."

You took a big step back and wiggled your finger at the mischievous hero. "You're crazy if you think I'm consenting to that."

"What, jumping around buildings and having citizens take videos of you during the busiest night of the week doesn't sound appealing to you?"

"Not at all!"

"C'mon, you look like you need some excitement and cheering up right now! What else do you have going on tonight?"

"I… have laundry to do…!"

"Just throw it in and come with me! It won't take that long."

"I also have homework."

"That's what Sundays are for."

"I also have to answer some questions listeners sent this week, and make dinner, and oh my God, my blinds are so dusty, and -"

"_____."

Spider-Man took a step forward and held his hand out. The night was alive, and you both could hear it coming deep within the city, where close friends and couples in love enjoyed each other's company. It's been lonely the last couple of weeks and you'll admit seeing Spider-Man tonight was the most exciting thing that's happened for a while, but…

Somehow, this felt like you were cheating on Seungmin.

"Give me thirty minutes," Spidey pleaded. "That's all."

You held his hand once more. There's something about the mystery man behind the suit that painstakingly attracted you to him. It was like fate had plans in stored just meant for the two of you.

"I'm scared of heights," you admitted shyly.

"I'll hold you tight."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'd never let anything happen to you." And he meant it.

"Ok. Thirty minutes."

Seungmin pulled you in close to his chest and instructed you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. This was the closest he's gotten to a hug for a couple of weeks and he missed it, but he'll deal with your mess of a friendship later. What mattered most right now was how cutely and innocently you looked up at him while clinging on to your dear life like he was already swinging through the concrete jungle.

"Are you ready?" he asked, taking hold of your waist.

"Nope!"

"On the count of three, we'll go, ok?" You nodded nervously. "Ready? One… I lied!"

On the second count, Spider-Man stuck his webbing from the tree he was on and swung from branch-to-branch like some modern day Tarzan. Your shrill screams were the soundtrack to his flight and his boyish laughs mixed in between.

"You're such an asshole!!" you cried out, burying your face into his shoulder.

"I know and I'm sorry, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up! But you'll take it back if you open your eyes."

“No way!”

“C’mon, don’t be such a baby!”

“I will cry.”

“No, you won’t. Now please, open your eyes!”

So you did, and your world in the arms of Spider-Man was filled with nothing but color. In a city you often saw as black and white, tonight was like seeing color for the very first time in shades you haven’t even heard of. Every color of light - from the tri-color street lights to the infinite shades of neon - all bounced off of every skyscraper the city held, reflecting off of every square of glass. The lights made your eyes twinkle like there were billions of rainbow stars stuck inside.

Seungmin was so glad to have you here with him.

The people below, as cliche as it sounds, looked like tiny little ants with cell phones recording every swing, every scream, and every smile. The idea of this going worldwide was absolutely terrifying, maybe even more-so than this, but it was so worth it. Never had anyone convince you to do something this crazy before. It seems like you’re sharing a lot of weird firsts with Spidey-Boy.

Seungmin took you to an empty rooftop that was thankfully not too high up, but high enough so that neither of you could be seen. As soon as your feet touched the concrete, your body turned to jello and fell to the floor.

“Oh, hey-!” Seungmin began, worried that you passed out.

But instead, you were in a fit of giggles, clutching your sides and covering your face from embarrassment.

You’re so, so cute, but so… so weird…

“Uh… are you ok?” he asked, hovering over your still-giggling form.

“No! I feel like I died, went to the seventh layer of hell, and got resurrected twenty times!”

“Then why do you look so happy?”

“I don’t know!” A long, content sigh left your lips before you grinned at your reflection through spidery lenses. “I am happy.”

Seungmin already knew he loved you. But now, he was in trouble - he was in too deep, and there was no way out.

He was crazily, unapologetically, immensely in love with you.

After you collected yourself from the floor, you joined a patient and careful Spider-Man at the edge of the roof. The fearless boy swung his legs freely overboard, and though you weren’t at that level yet, you were brave enough to straddle the parapet.

“Wow, I’m kind of proud of you,” Spidey snickered.

“Sh-Shut up.”

“Don’t fall ~”

“No promises, so you better catch me ~”

“Of course I will.”

For a moment, the two of you enjoyed each other’s company in silence, watching over the city folk who were either trying to get home after a long day, leaving home for a night out, or simply spending it with someone else. The perspective made you feel small - like your situation with Seungmin, the radio show, all the stress of school meant nothing because this, right in front of you, was the bigger picture. It didn’t make sense though, how none of your personal problems mean nothing in this moment.

Maybe Spider-Man had powers other than shooting webs.

“Hungry?” he asked, distracting you from your thoughts.

“Kind of. Are you?”

“Starving.”

“I’d ask if you want to get something to eat, but I don’t know how that would work.”

“We can still get something to eat. See that skewer stand over there?”

Spandex-Man pointed to a busy stand full of chicken, beef, pork, fried tofu, veggie, you-name-it skewer stand. You could smell the delicious spices all the way from the roof. “Mhm.”

“Watch this.”

In the blink of an eye, the webs from his wrist grab onto several sticks and he yanked them back, handing you several scrumptious, juicy skewers faster than you could blink. Then, he took out cash from his wallet (which he kept in his new fancy pockets) and shot back enough bills to cover the tip jar.

“Wow, I bet that’s handy at home when you’re couch potato-ing.”

“You have no idea - I barely get up on my days off.”

The skewers taste better with a side of company. “By the way, you never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Have you ever like-liked someone?”

“Ah, that one,” he sighed, unbothered. “Of course I have.”

“Oh? What were they like?”

“Where should I begin? They’re quite spunky. They have that no bullshit attitude that’s very attractive. They’re very smart, too, it’s hard for me to keep up sometimes. Most of all they’re so dorky… Dorky like they get scared over the littlest things like bugs and they get excited about things like free snacks in the library. But they’re also kind. I can’t recall a time when they weren’t thinking about others before themselves. And oh man, they have that little twinkle in their eyes whenever they see me - that’s what I love the most.”

“Did you ever tell them you like them?”

He shook his head lazily. “Nah. I didn’t see a point at the time.”

“You’re crazy! You should have told them!”

“Why, so I could get rejected!?”

“But what if they would have returned your feelings!? You just lost something great!”

“Eh, that was a long time ago so it doesn’t matter anymore,” he lied.

“You’re so lame…”

“Says the one who’s making made-up scenarios in your head to avoid your own jump to the death confession!”

“Hey, those are completely possible!”

“And you call me crazy…”

“Bet you won’t tell the next person that comes along that you like them ~”

“Jokes on you because I already did ~”

“When!?”

“Twenty minutes ago. I said I liked you, remember?”

Soon, blushing cheeks would become permanent on your face. “Shut up.”

A loud crash was heard far in the distance, just north of where you two were. You and the citizens below halted for a couple of seconds, like someone had pressed the pause button on the country. Another loud crash was heard and the rumbling of big, heavy footsteps echoed in the night. It was coming in your direction. Then, all warning sirens within the entire city went off, blinking a bright red.

“Please evacuate immediately,” the intercom said robotically. “Threat level: Demon. Please evacuate immediately. Threat level -”

“Demon?” you muttered to no one in particular. “There hasn’t been a Demon-level threat in over a decade -”

“I’m taking you home.”

“Wait -!”

There was no time to wait. Seungmin had to get you out of here and swing back to the city to find out whatever this thing was that made it so dangerous. Instead of flying through the buildings on the busiest and plugged-up streets, he detoured onto the smaller buildings on the safer routes near the outskirts of town where no one could see you. If that thing caught a glimpse of you, kidnapped you somehow, and made you a pawn in its game just to lure in Seungmin, he would never forgive himself. In fact, meeting you as Spider-Man was a complete mistake in the first place.

You made it back to your balcony in no time. The brave boy held you close by the shoulders and even if you couldn’t see through his reflecting eyes, you knew he was staring into your soul.

“Stay inside, ok? “ Spidey demanded.

“Don’t go. Stay with me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Can’t someone else go instead!?”

The footsteps got louder - closer.

Seungmin took your face in his hands, drawing tiny circles with the pads of his thumbs. When that didn’t help you calm down, you watched him carefully begin to remove his mask. What the hell was he doing!? Was he going to reveal himself NOW, of all times!? But no, your panic subsided when he only revealed just below his nose. Then, as if your life was a fairy tale, your prince pressed a soft, loving kiss to your forehead. Time slowed.

“I’ll come back to check on you.”

“Wait -!”

He had already jumped off your balcony before you could grab him and pull him back in the safety of your home. Whatever the thing was, you had no doubt he could stop it. Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal.

There was a shelter in the basement of your apartment complex whenever supernatural things caused the sirens to go off. You’ve lived through multiple Snake-level threats, Tiger-levels, hell even Dragon-level, but never Demon, the highest-level threat to exist. In the dusty and overcrowded basement, all of the panicked residents crowded over the television that hung on the wall.

Before you joined the crowd, you texted every possible friend to check-in and make sure they were safe. Seungmin was the only one who didn’t respond right away. You tried calling, sending multiple texts, snapchats, but received nothing, and you felt like your heart was collapsing in your chest.

seungminion [10:07 pm]: i’m ok, i promise.

You were about to cry on the spot. Slowly, your whole world would come back together, and everything would be fine.

The news reporters were showing live footage of what was out there, with the recording crew bravely hiding in the bushes and rubble of what was left of some buildings. The camera couldn’t get a full view of the thing because its appendages were too long. It looked like some big mechanical spider with claws on the ends of its legs. Just the sight of it on the screen made your skin crawl… why was this city so obsessed with spiders?

In the corner of the screen, a teeny tiny Spider-Man faced the enemy.

Oh my God, he’s doomed! He’s so tiny compared to that thing! And it has claws that could probably cut through the webbing! Every doubtful thoughts and whispers from your neighbors flooded your brain and you couldn’t stand to watch without peaking through your fingers in front of your face.

Seungmin was face-to-face with some other spider-wannabe being. He had no idea who or what this thing or person was other than it looked like it was crafted in an underground laboratory. With long, heavy, and sturdy appendages, it was hard for him to make out the pilot in the cephalothorax. What seemed to be human really didn’t look human at all - more like a crazy, power-hungry scientist on crack.

“Spider-Man! What a coincidence, I was just on my way to see you ~” the man sang. “I’ve been watching you.”

“That’s not creepy at all…”

“But it’s only because I admire you so much! Look, I even made myself a big spider to impress you!”

So he was just some crazy super fan. Seungmin wondered if his intentions were to hurt any citizens at all, or if the pilot didn’t even think about them as he made his way to show Seungmin his creation.

“Do you like it?” he asked desperately. “It’s an homage of sorts - like a sculpture! It’s art!”

“Um… I don’t fully understand it? It doesn’t look anything like me at all.”

There’s a short, eerie silence that followed. Everyone watching in their shelters embedded into the Earth’s crust held their breath, waiting for how the super fan was going to react. If you could hit Spider-Man across the television screen, you would until he was sent into the next dimension. Spidey, you idiot, entertain him a little, would you!? Are you trying to doom us all!?

“So you hate it…”

“No, that’s not what I.”

“I knew it! I knew you would hate it!”

The mechanical spider threw an obnoxious temper tantrum like an angry child without his nap time, swinging its appendages in every which way, hitting everything in its path like a lethal tornado. Nothing was left but dust and gravel by the time the spider sliced through a building. Seungmin did his best to dodge and avoid getting hit, but it wasn’t easy when there were eight things to dodge all at once. Between jumping from buildings to running on the ground, while trying to transition from one platform to the other, one of the legs hit him and sent him flying through a cement wall.

You could practically hear the whole city gasp in unison, with your soft one mixed in as you hide your face in your hands. Oh my God, he was going to get crushed!

But as if nothing had hit him just moments before, the city’s hero jumped back on his feet and went back to the demon.

First, Seungmin tried to tie up his legs together with his webbing. That didn’t work even though the chemical make-up of the silk was comparable to woven steel. The claws were still able to cut through every strand like it was cutting though tissue paper.

“I spent countless hours…! Endless months...!! Sometimes without food or sleep, and you ended up hating it!! I made this for you!”

Another blow to Spider-Man sent him through several concrete walls this time, crumbling the foundation of the buildings as he passed. At this rate, the entire city would be destroyed in no time.

“Come on, you can do it,” you whispered to no one in particular. You hoped his spidey-sense, or whatever, could hear your thoughts.

The more buildings that were destroyed, the more the enemy moved forward, looking for other things to destroy and toss like they meant nothing. Seungmin did his best to follow and try to lure him in a direction that was mostly rubble, but it was no use. Before he could be stopped, the two of them were already at the city’s main bridge that connected it to the other city. It was clear they didn’t get the evacuation memo quick enough as people parked their cars in the middle of the highway and ran in the opposite direction.

The view of the fight could now be seen thanks to two brave men recording in a helicopter. You saw the thing toss cars behind him, at Spider-Man, into the river, and to panicked citizens. Luckily, Spidey was able to catch the cars with ease and you think to yourself that maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did, even after all that research. Truly, this man was absolutely incredible in action.

“You hate it, everyone else hates it, where is the culture in this town!? The artistic knowledge!? Lack thereof is absolutely mortifying!” Another car tossed into the river. “No city can thrive without appreciation of the arts! I’ll do you all a favor and rebuild this city from the ground up!!”

You assumed that meant he would eliminate everyone in the city and start with nothing. That was comforting…

A car filled with a small family and a baby were lifted overhead. “I’ll start with them!”

He tossed the car over the bridge like they were just one of many to end up with an unfortunate fate in his metal claws. Spider-Man paid no mind to the cackling man in the body of a mechanic spider and used both of his web shooters to aim at the falling car. They hadn’t fallen too far off the bridge, but if Spidey couldn’t hold on to them, then the drop would be horrendous.

Maybe if the car wasn’t a huge suburban mom-van, this would be a piece of cake to pull up, but it was and no amount of leg days at the gym could have prepared Seungmin for this gnarly dead lift. Since all of his attention was on the van below, Seungmin had a hard time multi-focusing on the demon threat that was aiming a car at him.

“You’re next ~!”

Then there’s a beam of… light? Fire, perhaps? That blinded the television screen. A flying, red and gold-colored armored man swooped in and saved Spider-Man’s and the family’s ass.

“You ok?” he asked, flipping open his helmet to get a good look at him. “No, the suit! I was so sure the material would hold this time!”

Wait a minute… “Is that Woojin!?” you screeched on your end. “What the fuck -!!”

“Eh?” Seungmin looked down at his suit. Only parts of it were torn up and scathed, but otherwise he thought it was holding together rather nicely. “I mean,I think it’s still ok.”

“We’ll discuss that later. Do you need some help with this guy?”

“That would be nice, yes.”

“Bet I can beat him before you pull up the car.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

Once Seungmin got into competitive mode, there was no going back, and Woojin knew that. There was no way he’d beat this super fan, but he needed Seungmin’s help fast because this heavy iron suit could only dodge for so long.

You’re on your tippy toes as you watched Woojin tease and fight the demon-threat. There was no way that was really him... But when you saw his fluffy brown curls and his mischievous smirk before he closed his helmet, you were positive that was the one and only sexy fried chicken master himself. It was just so hard to believe because you’ve never seen him move so much before. You were so used to him slouched over in your booth every Wednesday night.

The car was brought up with some struggling, but nonetheless, the family was safe. Seungmin would feel this in his legs and biceps tomorrow morning, but that was for him to dwell on tomorrow. While Woojin kept distracting the enemy, Seungmin jumped in to help.

“If you can pin him down, I’ll incinerate the appendages.”

“I can’t, I already tried that.”

“What? He can still cut through them? Dammit!” Woojin sighed loudly. “Make sure I modify that along with the fabric.”

“Duly noted. I could try tying the legs together?”

“Let’s try it.”

It was a cat and mouse chase, where Spidey-Boy played the sneaky mouse Jerry and the spider droid was Tom the cat. You watched the clever man weave in and out and in between all the legs, with an appendage following closely behind. With a quickness, he shot his webs towards the limb and pulled close. With his free hand, he took another hold of a limb, and brought it close also. Then the tying ensued, trying to bend and twist the unforgiving metal into what was almost a knot.

“Close enough,” Woojin shrugged. “Step aside.”

You watched a floating Woojin blast a beam of light from the palm of his hand. At the joint where the limb met with the thorax, the mass of energy blew them off one-by-one as Spider-Man did his part. Two legs fell to the floor. Then four, then six, but the seventh and eight limbs were able to fight back. The tips of the claws acted like the tips of knives, piercing and poking everything it came in contact with. Seungmin got hit on his side, the spidey suit ripping along with his skin, and dark, crimson blood flowed freely.

Another eruption of gasps were made in your basement, this time yours being the loudest. You covered your mouth and tried to stop the worrying tears from forming.

“F-Fuck,” he cursed painfully, jumping back to hide behind Woojin.

“I can handle two limbs. Just stay back.”

Seungmin didn’t hear what his boss said. He was too focused on the blood pooling in his hands. It hurt like a bitch, but luckily he wasn’t losing too much of it that he was going to pass out. It was just harder for him to move. In the background, Seungmin could hear the maniacal laughter from the crazy scientist who was having fun playing with his toy. Woojin, on the other hand, wasn’t having any of it today and opted to just incinerate every piece on the spider until there was no more. For a moment, it rained shards of metal, distracting everyone from keeping their eye on the demon-threat. The super fan was able to miraculously escape the explosion, but not before Seungmin tied his defenseless body up like silken chrysalis.

“It’s Spider-Man’s silk…! The intricacy of it! It’s phenomenal, Spider-Man!! Truly, modern art in its final form!!”

“Seungmin, you good?” Woojin asked, bending at his level.

“Yeah… Can you stay with him until the cops come? I need to go somewhere to fix this.”

“Do what you gotta do, but text me once you’re there.”

A drowsy, light-headed Spider-Man nodded before jumping off to God only knows where. There weren’t many places where he could hide from citizens once the word got out it was safe to come back again, so he had to make his way to someone fast, but when the trees looked like clouds and the street lamps blurred to nothing, that might take longer than he expected.

The ‘Threat Level Eliminated’ alarm popped up on everyone’s phones, meaning it was safe to go back to your apartment. Luckily and conveniently, your apartment was one of the few buildings located on the outskirts of the city that was left unscated, so you thankfully still had a home. You’re not sure how you’re going to sleep without knowing if Spidey was ok or not, but you were so tired that your body was sure to forget about it once it hit your mattress.

In the midst of all the chaos, you were so happy that Seungmin was ok. You hoped he was thinking about you, too.

A place for everything and everything in its place - nothing was scathed or shattered or touched, and for that you’re thankful. After a quick scan of your apartment, you headed to bed feeling empty, like you should have someone here to be with and distract you from all the evil in the world.

As if on cue, a knock on your balcony window startled you to death. Outside was a heavy-breathing silhouette of Spider-Man clutching his side from when he was almost cut in half by that thing. You never ran to the window faster.

“Hey,” you whispered worriedly. “What are you doing here...?”

“Please help me...”

Your eyes widened at the size of his wound. It looked much smaller on the television. “You need to go to a hospital!”

“No! No one else can see this.”

“But -!”

“_____, please.”

Reluctantly, you helped the poor boy into your home. He collapsed on one of the chairs in your kitchen while you ran to the bathroom to find anything that would stop the bleeding. Several damp but clean towels and soap were in one hand and a roll of gauze was in another. WebMD said to first apply gentle pressure to stop the bleeding. You were ok with baby wounds and small paper cut drips of blood, but being up close and personal with a gashing, open wound with lots of blood made you lightheaded. Oh my God, why did humans have so much blood!

The next step was to clean the wound, so you used a new towel and some soap to clean around, but not on the open cuts. At this point, Spider-Man’s breathing was slow and steady.

“Hey,” you said, gently patting his masked face. “Stay with me.”

“Hm…?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m pretty sure that rule only goes for head injuries.”

“Just don’t, ok? For me? At least not yet, because I’m scared you won’t wake up again.”

You felt like such a whiny baby for not wanting an injured hero to rest just yet, but Seungmin knew you were just worried. Even in disguise, you were always so thoughtful for him, and it was just one of the many reasons why he loved you.

Spidey-Boy ruffled your hair playfully. “Ok. For you.”

Cleaning the wound took a while (“Ah, that stings!” “Then sit still!” “No!”), but regardless, you think you did a pretty swell job and almost considered a change in your major (NCLEX, anyone?). The difficult part was patching up the wound.

Your cheeks blushed for the millionth time. “Hey, uh…”

“What’s up?”

“Can you, uh… Take your uniform off…?”

Seungmin’s heart jumped. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? How am I going to wrap up your wound?”

“I’ll do it myself. Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure… First door on the left.”

Spidey nodded, taking the roll of gauze in your hands and slowly making his way towards the bathroom with whatever strength he had left in him. After taking off his suit and mask, he used the door as a means of support while he messily wrapped the gauze around his torso. It thankfully stopped the bleeding, but the problem now was how he was going to get home when he could barely walk.

He felt a knock on his back and panicked, pressing up against it more so you couldn’t open it.

“Y-Yeah?” he asked.

“Are you ok in there? Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“I’m fine…!”

You left it at that, going back to your seat in the kitchen as you impatiently waited for his return. You knew the reason he wanted to do it himself was so he could hide his identity, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that he didn’t trust you like that yet. I mean fine, this was only technically your fifth time meeting him, but this situation was different - he needed your help.

After half an hour of wrapping and trying to catch his breath, a fully-costumed Spider-Man came out of the bathroom with the gauze sticking out where the cut used to be. You smiled up at him and Seungmin thought that everything would be all right.

Then he collapsed.

With a loud thug, your hero fell to the floor and didn’t move. You ran to him, fell to your knees, and laid his head on your lap.

“Hey hey!” you cried out, lightly slapping his masked face. “Come on, wake up!”

“Mmff…”

“I’m going to take off your mask, ok?”

“No, don’t…!” He tried to object, but the more he talked, the more he lost his strength.

You didn’t listen because how could you just let him slowly suffocate under his mask!? You didn’t care if he’d be mad at you and you didn’t care if Woojin or whomever the fuck his boss was barged in and blasted some memory-wiping light in your eyes because you cared about Spidey-Boy too much for you to just let him do this on his own.

After removing his mask, you felt the walls of your home begin to crumble.

A sweaty, exhausted Seungmin laid in your lap, barely breathing. Seeing him like this brought back every memory you’ve ever shared with him, from high school until now. You’ve only ever come to know the adorable and sunshiny Seungmin, never the one that’s been saving the city from chaos and destruction. You thought you knew everything about him, but it was clear you really didn’t know him at all, and it broke your heart.

It wasn’t fair. He knew everything about you, from your odd habits, to your favorite everything, and now he knew how you felt about being in love. Granted, you never explicitly told him it was him, but he wasn’t an idiot, he knew it all along. Tonight, you trusted him as Spider-Man with your heartfelt feelings thinking that the real him would never find out until you were ready, but that trust was already broken the moment he flew into you on that fateful Sunday evening.

Your entire friendship was a lie.

Seungmin tried opening his eyes after feeling your tears fall on his cheeks and forehead.

“_____…” he mumbled.

You shook your head, unable to look at him as you quietly sobbed.

“I hate you, Seungmin,” you whispered.

His vision goes black.

When Seungmin passed out, you kneeled there until you could no longer feel the blood flowing below your knees and you sobbed. You were heartbroken, you were furious, you were absolutely terrified, and everything came crashing down like every other building in the center of the city tonight. But at least Seungmin (slash Spider-Man) was here with you, right where you needed him to be, so could you really be mad?

There was no way you were able to carry him to your bed or even the couch, so you did your best to make him comfortable as he laid on the floor. A few pillows and several soft blankets would do the trick. Afterwards, you headed to bed yourself, unable to deal with everything that happened today. Somehow, you’d deal with it in the morning.

But you couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning and flipping through old memories shared with the boy practically dead on your floor outside, sleep would not have you, as if you were cursed until you dealt with your feelings head-on. What the fuck were you supposed to do, though!? He was unconscious, for God’s sake, he wouldn’t even hear anything you’d say! And it would make you seem weak, wouldn’t it? Caving into what your heart wanted and going to him… That would mean you’d forgive pretty much anything Seungmin was at fault for, and that was not going to be the case!

It was four in the morning when you decided that yes, you were a weak, weak person, but only for your best friend.

On your sixteenth birthday, Seungmin gifted you the stars. Literally - there was this lamp thing on Amazon that had a slow-spinning black dome with a bunch of holes in it that mimicked the stars above. When the lights turned off and the glow of the lamp was on, the entire room was filled with constellations and stardust and it was like he gave you the universe and everything that was beneath it. In retrospect, he’d always go above and beyond, not just with gifts, but with anything that involved you just to make you happy.

Maybe it was time for you to do the same. The least you could do was try to understand his side. You wouldn’t even let him explain earlier… You told him you hated him.

So in the midst of heartbreak, you brought the lantern, a pillow, and a blanket and laid beside him until he would wake again. As the stars twinkled and twirled like a mobile above a crib, you watched a sleepy Seungmin beside you breathe softly. You counted every eyelash, every breath per minute, and traced his silhouette.

Even when you should be mad at him, how could you be? The moment he wakes up, you'd forgive and forget about everything - you loved him too much to stay mad for so long.

Before you fell asleep next to him, you made sure to hold his hand so he wouldn't slip away.

Nine in the morning was when Seungmin woke up with enough strength to leave you alone. He awoke beside you, with his hand entwined with yours, and he thought to himself how there was no way he deserved you. You stayed with him the whole night, healing him, making sure he was ok, and even after his identity was revealed - even after you told him you hated him - you stayed by his side on the uncomfortable hardness of the floor.

You hated him. Even with you by his side and your hand in his, he lied to you and kept his identity a secret and you hated him for it.

Seungmin tried to get up, but his side stung too much. Looking at his gash, his blood had soaked through the gauze and he knew he needed Woojin's money to help him with this one.

Your best friend pressed one last kiss to your forehead before leaving.

"I love you," he whispered. Then he hopped out the balcony and journeyed to Woojin.

When you woke up alone and with Seungmin nowhere in sight, you panicked. You called his cell phone, left text messages, called Woojin's cell phone, called all of 3RACHA's cell phones, anyone who you suspected to be a part of this super secret Spider-Man Team of Friendship, but no one would answer or knew where he was.

First he hid a whole alternate persona from you, even after you grew a connection with him, and then he injuries himself and then he falls off the face of the Earth!? How was that fair to you!? After everything you do for him!?

You needed answers. You needed him to be safe, with you, and to answer every question you had. He owed you that much.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, so went live on the radio straight from home.

Seungmin slept on Woojin's couch for hours after he arrived. He was drugged with some weird shit Woojin's brother concocted, patched and stitched up by said brother, and was instructed to stay bed ridden until the drugs took on its full effect. Something was working because his side felt numb and wasn't bleeding out anymore.

As he waited for the medicine to work, he passed the time by reading and listening to all the messages you left him.

you [9:23 am]: hey, are you awake?

you [9:38 am]: please answer me…

"Seungmin? Where are you? Please call me back."

you [10:56 am]: seungmin please

you [11:21 am]: i'm not mad, i promise!! i don't hate you!!

you [12:03 pm]: you're so mean.

you [12:52 pm]: i'm sorry.

He'll never be able to face you again. Not for a very long time.

'Moonlight Radio is now live!' his phone screen read.

Today was Sunday. "What the…?"

Even when the city barely started to recuperate from mass destruction, a good chunk of your regular listeners still tuned in to Moonlight Radio.

"Hey, guys!" you greeted cheerfully. "It's me, _____, going solo at the mic today. How are you all doing this Sunday afternoon? I hope you're all safe and sound, resting from last night's chaos. Team Moonlight is just fine, so no need to worry about us.

"Now I know, it's not 8:00 pm Wednesday, but I have a really good reason for this surprise short broadcast. I… I need your help."

There's a long pause on your end. How were you going to word this?

"So there's this guy, right? There's always a guy, that's how stories like this start. He's a really close friend of mine and I've been battling with some weird feelings for a very long time. You guys know how it goes, right? You think you like them, you're in denial, things get kind of awkward, then you're avoiding each other, and now your friendship is ruined, all because you're avoiding these… these stupid feelings! And you haven't even told him yet!"

Seungmin heard you sniffle through his phone. You were crying. All because of him.

"So I need your guys' help," you cried out. "I hate feeling this way. What should I do…?"

On your laptop, tons of answers flowed in through the group chat and inbox on what you should do. There were only two answers, and one of them was a question.

"You guys are so funny," you said, genuinely happy that your listeners knew you so well. "The only options are variations of 'just tell him!' and 'is this about Seungmin?'"

The tired boy's heart felt like it was aching when you said his name, but why was he so happy?

"You guys are right - I should tell Seungmin I love him. Seungmin…" you paused, choked up on the tears that were ready to fall. This wasn’t going to be easy. "If you're listening, please answer my calls… I-I'm not mad at you! I just can't help but worry about you sometimes. You mean so much to me, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. So please, just let me know you’re out there and safe somewhere. I love you, ok? I love you."

Seungmin cried a little, too. His heart ached, his whole entire body, mind, and soul ached, but he was so, so happy.

"Ok! Enough sad sappy stuff! I'm going to eat tubs of ice cream and maybe cry a little until I hear a response. Stay tuned on Wednesday to find out the results of my undying confession to my co-host. Oh, also! While I have you all listening, could I ask you all for another favor? If you guys see Spider-Man today, could you drop the location in our inbox? I know I know, I used to be disgusted by that vermin, but now I'm kind of a huge fan. Spider-Man, if you're listening… I guess I like you, too. Have a good Sunday, everyone. This is _____ signing off."

Seungmin had to find you. He had to run to you, hold you in his arms, and kiss you until you were out of breath. But when he tried getting up from the bed, he couldn't.

"Hyung!” he called out. “Why can't I move!?"

"The sedative isn't going to wear off for a couple more hours," Woojin explained.

"Hours? No, I need it to wear off now!”

“Sorry dude, I can’t just reverse it like that.”

“Fuck!”

“Can’t you just call _____?”

“No, I have to see her in person. They deserve that much.”

Woojin ruffled his comrade’s bedhead adoringly. “Ah, young love.”

Seungmin was bed-ridden for another six hours until he was fine to move again and leave to do his ‘young love activities’, as Woojin put it. Throughout the entire six hours, he recited and played in his head all possible scripts and scenarios of what it’d be like when he saw you again, asking Woojin for some input on how likely each of them would happen.

“Scenario one is that they return my feelings and hug me ‘til I can’t breathe and maybe we kiss and live happily ever after as Spider-Man and _____.”

“Sounds fake, but ok.”

“... Scenario two is that they’re mad at me for a little while, the show goes on hiatus because it’s a little awkward, but in the end we’re together and live happily ever after as Spider-Man and _____…?

“What is with this happily ever after stuff? Do you really think it’ll be that easy?”

“No, but a man can dream.”

“Instead of dreaming about it and stressing yourself out, just wait until you actually do it. You always overthink things, it’s not good for you, dude.”

“I can’t help it ~!” the injured boy whined. “I’ve never had this problem before!”

“Neither have I, but I’m always right, so you should listen.”

Six and a half hours, a tub of ice cream, and half a box of tissues later, you were still alone in your apartment watching sappy romances to cry your eyes out to. After you ended your pop-up broadcasting, you waited by your phone hoping that the message got to Seungmin. It had to have, because there was always an alert whenever the show went live. Unless he didn’t have his phone, but that was unlikely - didn’t he need it for superhero-y Spidey things? The first hour of waiting was the worst because every time your phone rang with some notification, your heart would jump in your throat and it was hard to breathe, but it wasn’t him, it was always some listener congratulating you on your confession or that they haven’t seen Spider-Man all day. The following hours were just you wallowing in your sadness knowing that Seungmin probably wasn’t going to respond anytime soon.

A knock on your window sent the spoon in your hand flying. You clutched your startled and fragile glass heart when you saw Seungmin standing on your balcony in his torn-up suit without his mask on. Your long-time friend looked so tired - tired of hiding from you, from protecting the city, and from being a normal college kid. Your nurturing instincts silently scolded him and wished he’d just gone home to rest instead, but truthfully, you’d much rather have him here with you.

You ran to your balcony door, opened it, and jumped right into his arms.

Seungmin didn’t say anything about how you were squeezing his stitches or how he wished you weren’t crying because of him. He simply held you in his arms and stroked your hair while you buried your head in his shoulder. Your body shook as you sobbed and it damaged Seungmin’s heart to an extent he couldn’t describe, but he hoped the kisses he planted on the side of your head healed you even just a little.

After an immeasurable amount of time, you broke away, and hit his chest.

“Ow, hey! What was that for!?”

“That was for crashing into me when we first met. If I could hit you for everything that’s happened to us over the past few months, you would need more stitches.”

“... I guess I deserve that…”

“Why are you here? You should be at home resting, not flying around dressed up in this cursed suit. What if another threat pops up!? And why do you have your mask off, what if somebody saw you!? And -!!”

“Shh,” the grinning boy hushed, pulling you back in for another hug. You should be pushing him away and scolding him some more, but your body failed you and you wrapped your arms around him once more. “I am home. You’re my home.”

“Don’t pull that cheesy shit with me, Kim Seungmin, I’m not buying it.”

“I know. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You better be!”

“Do you still hate me?”

“Kind of, you ass.”

“Do you still love me?”

Your cheeks burned. “... You heard me on-air, huh?”

“I love you, too ~” he sang, showering you in little kisses.

“Ew, stop it!”

“Ha ha, you love your best friend ~”

“Shut up!”

“You love spiders ~”

“No, I don’t!”

“C’mon, kiss me. Kiss your favorite spider.”

“Kim Seungmin, you’re so gross!”

You kissed him anyways. Then, for the entire night, you both sat on your couch and made him apologize for every single thing he’s done to you as Spider-Man, from spilling your french fries (“But I bought you some the same night!” “That was Seungmin, not Spider-Man.”) to flirting with you, and to when he left without waking you up. You forgave every single incident by kissing him and Seungmin tried to think up a hundred little things to apologize for.

“I’m sorry that you fell for me twice,” he teased.

“What kind of apology is that!? And I didn’t fall for you twice!”

“Admit it, you started to really like Spider-Man.”

“No.”

“You’re so cute when you’re in denial.”

“I hate you.”

He held your face in his hands and pulled you in for another soft kiss. “I love you, too.”

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jwilsonmajortwo2021 · 4 years ago

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Poetry/ Script Writing Influences (Beyond Beckett) T.S Eliot - Ash Wednesday, Ezra Pound - And the days are not full enough, Boris Pasternak - Hamlet

I Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign? Because I do not hope to know The infirm glory of the positive hour Because I do not think Because I know I shall not know The one veritable transitory power Because I cannot drink There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again Because I know that time is always time And place is always and only place And what is actual is actual only for one time And only for one place I rejoice that things are as they are and I renounce the blessèd face And renounce the voice Because I cannot hope to turn again Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something Upon which to rejoice And pray to God to have mercy upon us And pray that I may forget These matters that with myself I too much discuss Too much explain Because I do not hope to turn again Let these words answer For what is done, not to be done again May the judgement not be too heavy upon us Because these wings are no longer wings to fly But merely vans to beat the air The air which is now thoroughly small and dry Smaller and dryer than the will Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still. Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death Pray for us now and at the hour of our death. II Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained In the hollow round of my skull. And God said Shall these bones live? shall these Bones live? And that which had been contained In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping: Because of the goodness of this Lady And because of her loveliness, and because She honours the Virgin in meditation, We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd. It is this which recovers My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown. Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness. There is no life in them. As I am forgotten And would be forgotten, so I would forget Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping With the burden of the grasshopper, saying Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose Is now the Garden Where all loves end Terminate torment Of love unsatisfied The greater torment Of love satisfied End of the endless Journey to no end Conclusion of all that Is inconclusible Speech without word and Word of no speech Grace to the Mother For the Garden Where all love ends. Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other, Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand, Forgetting themselves and each other, united In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance. III At the first turning of the second stair I turned and saw below The same shape twisted on the banister Under the vapour in the fetid air Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears The deceitul face of hope and of despair. At the second turning of the second stair I left them twisting, turning below; There were no more faces and the stair was dark, Damp, jaggèd, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond repair, Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark. At the first turning of the third stair Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene The broadbacked figure drest in

blue and green Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute. Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown, Lilac and brown hair; Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair, Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair Climbing the third stair. Lord, I am not worthy Lord, I am not worthy but speak the word only. IV Who walked between the violet and the violet Whe walked between The various ranks of varied green Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour, Talking of trivial things In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour Who moved among the others as they walked, Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour, Sovegna vos Here are the years that walk between, bearing Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing White light folded, sheathing about her, folded. The new years walk, restoring Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem The time. Redeem The unread vision in the higher dream While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse. The silent sister veiled in white and blue Between the yews, behind the garden god, Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down Redeem the time, redeem the dream The token of the word unheard, unspoken Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew And after this our exile V If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent If the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, unheard; Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard, The Word without a word, the Word within The world and for the world; And the light shone in darkness and Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled About the centre of the silent Word. O my people, what have I done unto thee. Where shall the word be found, where will the word Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence Not on the sea or on the islands, not On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land, For those who walk in darkness Both in the day time and in the night time The right time and the right place are not here No place of grace for those who avoid the face No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice Will the veiled sister pray for Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee, Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray For children at the gate Who will not go away and cannot pray: Pray for those who chose and oppose O my people, what have I done unto thee. Will the veiled sister between the slender Yew trees pray for those who offend her And are terrified and cannot surrender And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks In the last desert before the last blue rocks The desert in the garden the garden in the desert Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed. O my people. VI Although I do not hope to turn again Although I do not hope Although I do not hope to turn Wavering between the profit and the loss In this brief transit where the dreams cross The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying (Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things From the wide window towards the granite shore The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying Unbroken wings And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices And the weak spirit quickens to rebel For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell Quickens to recover The cry of quail and the whirling plover And the blind eye creates The empty forms between the ivory gates And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth This is the time of tension between dying and birth The place of solitude where three dreams cross Between blue rocks But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away Let

the other yew be shaken and reply. Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden, Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still Even among these rocks, Our peace in His will And even among these rocks Sister, mother And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea, Suffer me not to be separated And let my cry come unto Thee.

And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass.

The murmur quietens down. I walk out onto the stage.

Leaning against the door-post,

I catch a distant echo

What will happen in my century.

The darkness of the night is trained on me

by a thousand binoculars.

If it be only possible, Abba, Father,

carry this cup past me.

I love your stern master plan

and agree to play this part.

But now another drama is taking place,

and this time let me be discharged.

The order of acts is forethought,

and the end of the way cannot be turned back.

I am alone. Everything drowns in Pharisaism.

Living life is not like crossing a field.

#t.s. eliot #ezra pound #boris pasternak

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autumnsxxangel · 5 years ago

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That meta on Vera that no one asked for

but I can’t stop thinking about. This whole season I have been wondering why Vera came back and now that his character arch is finished, I can finally sit down and really think about his purpose in the show. Essentially, it is to be Elliot’s mirror.

Esmail had shown time and time again that he adheres to the principle of Chekhov’s Gun very strictly. Whether it’s within an episode itself or in the over arching series (i.e. the knife Vera shows at the beginning of 4x07 which Krista uses to kill him in the end, the lolita references which builds to Elliot’s revelation, Darlene killing Susan Jacobs who ended up being vital to the Cyprus hack), any time he puts a ‘loaded gun’ on the table, it goes off.

Now how does this relate to Vera? In hindsight, we should have known he was coming back and how that he would be important. The cast of characters are very trim in Mr. Robot. Everyone serves a purpose. If they’ve been there more than 1 episode, you don’t forget them and you tend to see them again. Characters that are unimportant in this show are one-offs. They serve their purpose and usually end up in jail or dead. They almost never have an residual effect on Elliot. Any character of importance only leaves this show in a body bag. That being said, Vera got a fair amount of screen time in season 1. On top of being a horrible abusive person and a drug dealer, he ends up manipulating Elliot into breaking him out of jail and kills Shayla. Then he fucks off and we were all convinced that we would never see him again. But how wrong we were.

Vera in season 1 was presented as a run-of-the-mill villain. He was very easy to hate and overlook because he looked and acted like a classic drug lord/gangster. In essence, he was a stereotype. But what the stereotype hid was how intelligent he actually was. He manages to manipulate Elliot and get under his skin while in prison and barely knowing anything about Elliot. He has a very high emotional intelligence (which they show in season 4 and I’ll get more into later) and he uses it very successfully on Elliot. However, since it was only the first season and we had no idea the rabbit hole we were going to fall into, we took his character at face value. In reality, that whole arch was just a foreshadowing.

Now to season 4 Vera. We get a lot more facets of Vera this season, way beyond the gangster stereotype. Obviously, he is a horrible person, but we get to see his motivations and his goals. When he first appeared, many of us theorized that he would go up against White Rose at the end as a surprise challenger. However, it makes so much more sense that he only existed in this show for Elliot. I mentioned above about Vera being Elliot’s mirror and he is in two ways. He shows us who Elliot he really is and who he could have been.

Let’s look at the similarities between the two. They are both overlooked and underestimated, one because he’s a stereotype of a gangster and the other because he’s a stereotype of an introvert. However, they both have lofty, almost unattainable goals. Goals that they both managed to attain and still do not give them the satisfaction they desire. Vera managed to take over the DR in a matter of months and Elliot brings the entire economy to its knees. And yet, here they are. Vera wants to own Manhattan and Elliot wants to take down Dark Army. They are both men who are never going to be satisfied and that is, very clearly, going to be the death of them.

Most importantly though, they both suffered sexual abuse as children. Elliot from his father and Vera from his mother’s various ‘friends’. Now, it is well known that abuse tends to go in circles. As a child that grew up in such violence, it is not surprising that Vera grew up to be such a violent man. I am not excusing his behavior because I know people break the cycle all the time, but coupled with his ambitious personality, it is easy to see that he views violence as a tool and fully embraces it. He knows to advance in the world, he cannot be a good man. The abuse is also the reason he has such high emotional intelligence. Studies have shown that childhood abuse is linked to higher empathy. As a child he had to be able to read people as a tool of survival. That is the skill that showed him exactly which of Elliot’s buttons to push to break him.

Now to Vera being a mirror. Vera is essentially what Elliot could have become if he had retained his memories. He had already realized that violence was the only answer before Mr. Robot erased the memories. He attacked his father with a baseball bat and threw himself out the window. If he had not started disassociating, there is a likelihood that he would have gotten more and more violent against his father to defend himself, especially as he grew bigger. And once violence is learned, it is very hard to unlearn, especially when you go from feeling helpless to powerful (i.e the ‘little bitch’ story). It is not a far stretch of the imagination to assume that Elliot could have ended up just like Vera.

How does this relate to showing us who Elliot really is? Because this show is shown through Elliot’s POV, we sympathize with him. We feel pain for him. We forget the reality and the reality is that Elliot is a dick. He’s a horrible person. We see him as a hero, but he is an anti-hero at best and a villain at worst. Vera and Elliot’s lives run parallel with each other. Vera is the reflection of Elliot and knowing how violent Vera is forces us to look at the violence in Elliot’s actions. And Elliot, he is a very violent man. We just don’t see it that way because he isn’t physically violent like Vera is. His violence isn’t tangible. Rather, he is a destructive force to everyone and everything around him.

Take the 5/9 hack. Elliot serenades us, manipulates us with ideas of fighting injustice, taking down the top 1%. He makes us believe that he’s doing a good things. He probably believed he was doing a good thing. The problem is that he doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions. As someone so intelligent, his scope of view is always very narrow and very destructive. We all saw the result of the hack. The rich were still rich and the poor still suffered the most. With his hacking skills, he could have done a number of things to equal the playing field without so much collateral damage. He could have hacked bank accounts and redistributed wealth. He could have erased debt. Instead, he chose the most destructive path possible, destabilized the economy, hurt millions of people, and didn’t offer any solutions to the problem that he created.

Then there’s Olivia and 4x06. 4x06 is important in that we finally got a chance to see Elliot from the outside. We get to see the collateral damage of Elliot’s actions and just how much violence he causes. Olivia called Elliot a monster and she was right. He is one. Elliot’s singular goal is to destroy things and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get to his goal. Does he feel guilty about it afterwards? Yes. But is it enough to stop him from doing it again? No. While Vera is highly empathetic, Elliot lacks empathy. So it begs a philosophical question - Who is more violent? A man who purposely hurts another or a man who causes others to hurt themselves/people.

So in conclusion, Vera was purposely set up to allow Elliot to recover his memories. He already killed some one close to Elliot once. Why wouldn’t he be the one to kill Mr. Robot? Their similar traumas was what allowed Vera to get under Elliot’s skin and to show him the truth. At the same time, he managed to get under our skin and show us the truth about Elliot.

P.S. Kudos to Elliot Villar for his performance. I hope he gets an Emmy nomination for this, at the very least.

#it's one in the morning and im going to end it here #theres probably more i could say but im so tired #mr. robot #mr robot #elliot alderson #fernando vera #elliot villar #im still reeling from 4x07 #and im overthinking everything #it's hard getting everything you're thinking into words

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years ago

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#1yrago Sorting the spin from the facts: how big can the surveilling city that Sidewalk Labs plans for Toronto get?

Cory published a writeup of my research showing Google offshoot Sidewalk Labs’ plan to build a surveilling city in Toronto involves a much, much larger chunk of land than publicly disclosed (in fact about 2,600 acres of prime Toronto waterfront!). It flushed out a response from the high-priced US PR firm Berlin Rosen, apparently acting on behalf of Sidewalk Labs:

Hi there –

I am reaching out about the above mentioned article. The image that accompanies the article is a picture of designated waterfront area with Quayside, specifically, highlighted. Sidewalk Toronto’s MIDP [Master Innovation Development Plan] will address Quayside only, it does not expand across the entire waterfront designated area as the article states.

Can you please correct this within the article?

Thanks so much in advance! Molly

To support her assertion that my findings are incorrect, Berlin Rosen's Molly Henderson sent along a misleading FAQ prepared by Waterfront Toronto to diffuse mounting concerns over the City of Toronto's Master Innovation and Development Plan (MIDP).

To understand how the FAQ obscures the nature of the project, consider this sentence: "The only commitment at this time is to a process to create a plan for Quayside that will meet the objectives set out in the RFP [Request for Proposals]." On a first reading, this seems to imply that private city-within-a-city will be limited to Quayside, the 12-acre site that everyone has been talking about to date.

But then, later, the FAQ leaves wiggle room regarding the true size of the slated area to be "developed": "Any ideas proposed more broadly than Quayside must be in service of achieving the shared goals of the project and be supported by a business case demonstrating the need for scale to achieve the objectives."

Now, if you look at the map on page 42 of the Plan Development Agreement (PDA) struck between Sidewalk Labs and Waterfront Toronto, which is the focus of Cory’s Dec. 17 blog post and my research, you'll see the MIDP site. It’s 2,600 acres, stretching over a huge swath of Toronto and including the iconic Air Canada Centre, Union Station and CN Tower -- and also covering a big chunk of real estate, including the Port Lands, that Canadian taxpayers are shelling out billions to flood-protect, beautify and prepare for development.

The PDA states that [bolding added for emphasis]: "Notwithstanding anything herein to the contrary, Waterfront Toronto will ensure that any BIP [Business Implementation Plan] proposed, recommended and/or submitted by it or on its behalf to the City of Toronto for consideration, for the Quayside Parcel and for any additional parcels included in the MIDP is consistent with, and does not limit, conflict with or constrain, the terms included in the MIDP Scope or this Agreement or reasonably expected to be included in the MIDP and Implementation Agreements or, after approval of the MIDP, will be consistent with the MIDP."

So: the area in play is all 2,600 acres. The PDA allows them to develop anything "consistent with the MIDP." And who gets to decide whether something is "consistent with the MIDP?" The PDA states that only approval of Sidewalk Labs and Waterfront Toronto is required for the MIDP – not Toronto’s city council, nor the Ontario or federal Canadian legislatures.

(Waterfront Toronto has the discretion to go to any or all of the three levels of government for approval of the MIDP. But Waterfront Toronto doesn’t have to.)

The PDA also says “[a]ny proposed options at scale shall be subject to and closely tied to the achievement of the MIDP Targets and supported by robust business planning and financial analysis."

This may sound good but we've been through this before very recently and we know how it turns out. Just two weeks ago the Auditor General of Ontario released her 2018 annual report in which among other things she slammed Waterfront Toronto for its dealings with Sidewalk Labs. She also took the Ontario transit agency Metrolinx to task for letting manifestly faulty business-case analyses be used to support hyper-politicized decision-making.

Now the PDA does also say that government approvals will be needed for implementation of aspects of the MIDP beyond Quayside: “MIDP will be subject to various contingencies, such as the receipt of certain governmental approvals and clearances, approvals of or agreements with landowners or other third-consents." That’s because a lot of the land and buildings in the MIDP area aren’t owned by Waterfront Toronto or the City of Toronto.

But once the MIDP is signed it’s irrevocable and the doors will be open to widespread changes to bylaws, zoning, etc, to let Sidewalk Labs and Waterfront Toronto implement the MIDP.

How do we know how this will roll out? Here’s what Dan Doctoroff, the Chairman and CEO of Sidewalk Labs, said at a University of Toronto conference in May 2018:

“Part of the reason again we need to partner with an entity like Waterfront Toronto is they have spent the last 15 years developing those relationships which we will never develop to the same extent that they could. ... Now obviously we’ve got a provincial election [in Ontario in June 2018] that we ... have no idea what’s going to happen. But the fact is the parliamentary system actually makes it easier compared to our state level and our national government level. I mean could you literally imagine in the U.S. not just in the era of Trump but any time of having represented in one organization three levels of government? It would just never happen in America. The ability to get things done if there’s alignment at the provincial and national governments, at least they believe in what you’re doing, is much greater... And that’s especially important because when you talk about innovation and you talk about literally innovating across building codes and ... zoning regulations and transportation, and all these different elements, we’re gonna need a lot of work with the regulators at the provincial and the national level. ... So on a net basis, I actually think that being here is a big positive."

Doctoroff also said, at a public-private partnership conference in Toronto in November 2017:

“We [Sidewalk Labs] believe the government should do the minimum necessary to make the market function. But sometimes that’s a lot. Or even everything. Canada is fortunate to have leadership with a similar approach to the relationships between the public and private sectors. As Ontario and the city of Toronto. For Sidewalk Labs, this was a big part of what drew us to respond to Waterfront Toronto’s call for an innovation and funding partner."

So all three levels of government in Ontario – and my bet is that tough-talking Ontario Premier Doug Ford is on the same page – are keen to let Doctoroff and his gang at Sidewalk Labs have their way with some of the most valuable real estate in North America.

Want more proof that Berlin Rosen’s spin is part of this high-level, stealthy effort we’ve uncovered to let Big Tech take over Toronto’s priceless waterfront? Documents sent to me and tweeted about yesterday by Bianca Wylie -- which resulted from a Freedom of Information request by consultant Bernard Rudny -- included a February 21, 2017, memo from an official at the Canadian Privy Council Office to Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. The memo says Waterfront Toronto’s intention is that once the agreement to develop Quayside is finalized and construction under way, “planning for the Port Lands scale up [would be] beginning almost immediately."

https://boingboing.net/2018/12/21/2600-acres.html

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cherry3point14 · 6 years ago

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Hey Jealousy

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: I mean idk. Jealousy. Kissing. Bets. Crushing pretty hard. Word Count:4,792 Summary: You’ve had a major crush on dean forever, and for the last couple of months, you’ve been dropping serious hints. Only Dean isn’t picking anything up. When Ketch shows up and shows interest, Dean’s jealousy makes an appearance. A/N: Another prompt by my girl @divadinag. I enjoyed writing Ketch more than I thought I would if I’m honest. He’s a fun asshat. This is kinda trash and I won’t apologize for it because it was fun to write. Although I have to be honest, I need to stop writing these things on the train.

Ao3 if you prefer.

You’re not blind. You’d noticed how goddamn attractive he was the moment you met him. You’d seen how well he filled out, well everything, his t-shirts must’ve been a size too small right? It’s the only explanation for the way his muscles stretch the fabric just so over his thick arms and the planes of his back. It’s probably why he wears those thick flannels over the top, he needs the extra layer. And god those legs. Strong bow legs outlined in denim. His whole body is just, ugh, a tree you wanted to climb. That’s without even beginning to describe his face; perfectly chiseled and home to the most interesting eyes and full lips you’ve ever seen.

He’s fucking handsome. We get it. He doesn’t need to be that head to toe beautiful. It’s borderline obnoxious.

But, sometimes you can’t always act on these things when you want to. You’re in the middle of a hunt when you first see him. A vampire nest outside of Aurora. It’s all pretty textbook. The idiot bloodsucker you’ve been tracking leads you from this dive bar to a closed down warehouse and it being the middle of the night the nearby businesses are empty. You scope the place out, sneak in, and you’ve taken out three of them, still holding a now decapitated head in your hand, when Sam and Dean Winchester bust in like they’re the heroes of this story. Normally you’d be annoyed by another hunter, or two, interrupting you while you’re in the middle of something but there’s still three vampires left so maybe there’s a small flutter of relief at their arrival. Then they’re all dead and the first time you meet Dean, really look at that perfect fucking face of his, is over a pile of dead vampires as you’re burning the evidence together. He’s not any less handsome but you’re not exactly feeling your most alluring. Not covered in blood stains and bumpy skin that’ll be bruised in the morning.

Not making a move that first night had been self-preservation. You'd been trying to save yourself the embarrassment of him turning your messy ass down. Although you convince yourself it’s good manners. You convince yourself it’d be rude to hit on him mid-hunt. It’d be a different story in a bar but you’re on the job, it’s no time to stare at him like a piece of meat.

Anyway, you’d been bleeding. You’d killed four vamps by the end, but one got a taste. The bite mark on your shoulder was deep and bleeding pretty substantially even with the rag you were holding on it. Honestly, you’re lucky the idiot couldn’t get a good shot at your neck or you wouldn’t be standing.

Sam had insisted on patching you up with promises that he stitched like a pro. Dean had promised you breakfast with a wink that made your stomach tighten. That’s all it had been. Medical attention and a suggestive promise of food. That’s how you ended up staying at the bunker for that first night.

Well, really, that’s how you moved in. And moving in is how you became friends with them.

Now you’ve been there a few years. You’ve met their mother, a woman who was famously dead for decades. You’ve seen other realities and archangels and met God. It’s too much to list everything. Their lives are not that of normal hunters and by association, your grip on reality has loosened a bit as well. Even considering that your reality had already included monsters and demons.

It’s just that recently, maybe the last six months or so, there’s something that’s really been grinding your gears. Or should you say, nothing is grinding your gears and therein lies the problem. You haven’t got laid in a while and all because of Dean-freaking-Winchester.

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even on the hunts where you do go off on your own, because sometimes you need a few days, you can’t just pick up some townie at a bar like you used to. They never come close to Dean and invariably seem like a waste of your time. Or like you’re cheating on your crush. There’s your hard place.

The rock is Dean himself. Because only an actual rock could be as obtuse as he is to the signals you are putting out there.

There are all these random moments. The hours, sometimes days, between the hunting crap where you live normal lives. Movie nights where you swan off to your room to slip into something more comfortable first. Something that showed off a little too much leg or was a little too tight around the chest and was, generally speaking, not always that comfortable. Or there were the touches you’d started laying on him. A hand that lingers too long on his arm or fingers that ghost over his when he hands you a coffee.

Between all the physical touches and the stares, the flirting, you’d been about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. The number of times you’d laughed at his lame jokes should have been enough, right? It was finally starting to dawn on you that maybe Dean Winchester did not, like he suggested the first night he met you, want to share post sex breakfast with you. It was very possible he didn’t even want the sex part of that equation.

And then Ketch came to call.

The knock at the bunker door was out of the ordinary sure but nothing you didn’t think one of the boys could handle. You weren’t rushing to answer it yourself anyhow, not when you’ve read the same page of the book in your hands over and over again. Once again caught in your own heard thinking about him rather than whatever you were trying to read about. Maybe one more attempt and you’ll actually absorb the words this time.

When you still have no idea what you're reading after two more tries you finally give up, dog-ear the page and haul your ass off the bed to investigate.

“You think you can show up and we’re just going to let you stay? I don’t want you here while I sleep.” Dean’s voice is loud enough to hear before you step foot into the war room. You can tell he’s not really angry though, there’s a hint of amusement behind the gruffness, the kind of tone he reserves for people he doesn’t completely hate.

“What exactly are you worried about me doing?” The response is smooth, polished and decidedly British.

They both stop bickering when you enter. You should have known that it was Ketch but having only met him on a handful of occasions you hadn’t recognized his particular lilt without seeing his face. Before you get a chance to even say hello he smiles at you, “why Dean thinks anyone would be interested in bothering him when you’re in the room is beyond me. Y/N, always a pleasure.”

It’s not like you’re an Anglophile but yeah, sure, his accent is easy on ear. And when he’s complimenting you it’s all the better. Especially with how bruised your ego is from constantly being shut down by a certain Winchester for months on end. The heat rising up your neck as you step closer to them both, it’s just biological.

“Well, I’m not going to complain if you want to stay a few days.” You casually add to a conversation you weren’t a part of as you take a seat in the middle of the map table. Unconsciously an equal distance from them both.

“‘Course not when he’s nice to you!” There’s no hidden amusement behind his words this time. Dean is suddenly genuinely agitated and you have no idea why.

“Oh, because being nice to me is a crime now?” You shoot a glare at Dean, more annoyed than you should be. He doesn’t know the torture he’s been putting you through, it’s not really his fault that you’re so eager for a compliment.

Ketch watches you both with interest but is not swayed or distracted, “Y/N, as I was telling this ape-”

“See!”

“-before you got here. I’m working on a commission in the area and use of the library would be incredibly helpful. It would only be a few days and since I have previously helped him out of some particularly sticky situations, perhaps he would be so inclined to return the favor.”

You feel yourself involuntarily nodding along with him as he speaks. His lips aren’t as full as Dean’s but it’s still nice to watch his words fall from them. “It’s not like we don’t have the room,” you add helpfully.

Dean, from somewhere behind you and your now focus on Ketch, protests again, “he’s literally a goon for hire, for all we know he’s here to kill us.”

Ketch let's out this condescending chuckle that you can tell riles Dean up without even glancing in his direction, “Dean, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. In any situation Y/N has nothing to worry about, I could never rid the world of something so lovely.”

You hadn’t liked the casual mention of killing Dean. Even as a joke the idea made a dull weight form in your stomach. It’s just, Ketch so easily switches back to complimenting you on the same breath. You don’t mean to smile like a sap at him, it just kind of happens.

“Fine, he wants to stay, he can stay. But when we all wake up dead...” Ketch opens his mouth but Dean doesn’t let him have the pleasure, “shut up.”

Then there’s the stomping of boots in the distance and you and Ketch are alone for the first time in all of your meetings.

“He’s always the charmer, isn’t he?”

“Are you really going to pretend that you didn’t do that on purpose?”

Ketch’s eyes twinkle mischievously which is so unlike any other time you’ve met him that it strikes you as odd how un-Ketch like it seems. He glides into the seat next to you with an unnatural agility and half cocks his head in your direction, “I am absolutely sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, even if I did what harm is there in ruffling his feathers?”

“He did just let agree to let you stay.”

Maybe it’s his stiff upper lip but Ketch delivers everything he says like his life is already scripted so it’s no surprise when he leans in an inch or two and whispers as smooth as silk, “well aren’t I the lucky one?”

You offer to help Ketch with some of his research because you’re a good host. It’s definitely not because he steals the occasional glance. And you’re definitely not intoxicated by the attention like a sixteen-year-old sneaking a wine cooler at prom.

Nothing would ever happen with Ketch. You’ve heard stories about him and bluntly put, he’s simply not the man Dean is. It’s just comforting to feel wanted again. It’s a confidence boost you didn’t know you needed and he’ll be gone in a few days anyway. Why can’t you enjoy being wanted for once?

“Y/N?” Dean clears his throat and you hide the widening of your eyes by staring intently at the page because honestly? You have no idea how long he’s been there watching you with Ketch.

“Yeah, Dean?” You try to stay nonchalant but with him standing there you’ve started doing that can’t read thing again.

“Thinking about going out for burgers, wanna come with?”

That catches your attention enough for you to look up. At first glance, he looks the same as ever and yet he’s different somehow. A suggestion of nerves in his voice and something else you can’t get a read on. That’s not to mention how out of character the question is in the first place. If he’s going out for food he hollers from wherever he is, saves him asking you and Sam separately. And he rarely asks for company, you always figured he liked some time to himself when he went out.

Just as you open your mouth to ask him if he’s ok Ketch speaks up, “hard luck, Y/N already agreed to accompany me to dinner.”

“I did?” you blurt out and catch Ketch wink fast enough that only you see. “Right, right. I did.”

Your compliance with Ketch sets Dean’s jaw for all of a second before he shakes it off and manages a cocky smile, “we’re all going out huh? I had no idea, I’ll go get Sammy. I don’t know about you but I am hungry.”

“At least wear something other than flannel!” Ketch calls out after Dean’s disappearing form.

You wait about a nanosecond before you turn to him, “I said yes to dinner when?”

He sits back in the high leather chair like he’s a Bond villain, the accent doesn’t help the image, “don’t get me wrong while I would have thoroughly enjoyed our tryst, I am strongly inclined to believe that I may not be welcomed back if I dally with something that does not belong to me.”

“You call this welcome?” You motion with a hand in the direction Dean disappeared to.

Why can’t he just spell out what he means without the intrigue? If he had you might have understood what he was trying to imply before Sam appeared, lurching forward as if he had been shoved into the room followed by Dean sporting a too wide smile.

“Where we eating then?”

Dinner is weird. The whole situation reeks of weird. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was a hunt by the knot in your gut, the one that normally forms when something is about to go wrong.

It’s a goddamn Olive Garden for crying out loud but Ketch holds your chair out like it’s five-star fine dining. He’s British so you just write it off but then Dean watches you sit down like he might murder Ketch, or you, or both of you. Ketch orders the most expensive bottle of wine they have and it’s only like a hundred bucks, but still, it’s a sizeable amount more than the beer Dean is sucking down. Normally you’d be nursing a brown bottle too but Ketch insists on wine for the lady. You normally wouldn't give in but he hands you a glass with this reserved elegance and damn if it doesn't make you feel like a lady. Dean orders the same food as you because he says that you always order the best thing on the menu and then Ketch swoops to agree that you have excellent taste.

As the evening wears on you feel more and more like a toy that they both want to play with. Except Dean doesn’t want to play with you right? He’s your friend. He’s made that perfectly clear by the way he’s been ignoring your advances for months. He’s just being protective.

At some point, you look hopefully at Sam who shrugs as if it answers your question. You’re not even sure you know what the question was but you know Sam’s apathy wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Then, once you’ve finished the pie that Dean ordered for your dessert, the check comes. Somewhere in your imagination, there’s the sound of a rattlesnake to signify the coming showdown. They both square their shoulders and for the first time that night they seem to have forgotten that you, or anyone else, exists. It’s just them and their dumb argument about who’s picking up the tab.

You’ve drunk too much wine by this point to care or be impressed by their pissing match.

“Eugh, can we just go home please?” You’re up out of your chair, frustrated and swaying your way to the door with Sam in your wake.

If you had stayed in your seat for even 30 seconds longer you might have seen the way Dean looks at you, or if you’d have turned your head back once you’d have noticed how distracted he is watching you walk away. Ketch has more than enough time to pay and get up out of his seat while he waits for Dean to come back to reality.

“She is something isn’t she?” Ketch is smug and proud even when complimenting someone else.

Dean stands up with the scrape of his chair on the floor, bringing himself to full height against his suited adversary. “When are you leaving again?”

"Oh, not for a few days. Plenty of time to get to know her.”

“Well, well, well boys. Looks like this is my round.”

“I think it’s positively adorable that you don’t feel the need to have anything close to resembling a poker face.” Ketch catches your eye making you pout exaggeratedly from behind your cards.

Sam had been tired, or so he’d said, and he’d gone to bed but you were caught in that sweet spot after drinking where sleep was the last thing on your mind. And since Ketch had been so eager to stay up with you Dean had suggested poker with a fervent shout, like the idea was escaping his body without permission. Which is how you got here. Sitting around a table with both of them opposite you, Dean slightly to your left and Ketch slightly to your right. You’re losing miserably at this point and normally you’d be horrified about that except you're buzzed and don't really care.

At least you’re having a good time. Dean, on the other hand, is not. Every time Ketch opens his mouth you'd swear you can hear him grind his teeth. It gets louder if Ketch is talking to you directly.

“Come on then Rainman, you gonna call?” Dean grumbles.

“Call?” you quip, pressing your cards to your chest to protect your secret. “Are you kidding me? I raise!”

Dean had got his chips out, the nice set you bought him the Christmas before last, and even though your pile is the smallest you wiggle in your chair in excitement with your decision. There’s a big song and dance, waggling eyebrows and a little chuckle as you push the pile to the center, “that’s right, I’m all in!”

“You sure, sweetheart?”

Being on the way to fully drunk it’s even harder to fight the blush when he calls you that. So, you don’t fight. You smile down at your cards and let the pink flush your cheeks. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

You can feel Dean’s eyes on you. There’s no way to explain how you know he’s looking at you other than a tingling under your skin, but you just know. And you’re terrified to bring your gaze up to his because you have no idea what you might find there. It could be the final nail in the coffin, it could be an expression so far removed from lust that it finally ends your crush. God, he could be staring at you like you’re the little sister he never had, who shouldn’t be gambling so frivolously.

Your feelings for Dean are not always easy to deal with but they’re yours and you’re not ready to let them wither and die. You’re not ready to have your heart broken over a drunken game of poker, in front of Ketch of all people. So, you don’t look at him. You chicken out and take this deep, shuddering breath while you continue to study your cards, even though you know them by now.

“Ketch, your turn?”

“So it would seem.” He answers smoothly. Either unphased or unaware of what just happened. He calls, which isn’t all of his chips since you'd been losing. As he pushes his bet into the center of the table he adds an afterthought, “I like a woman who lives dangerously.”

Something snaps in Dean that you’d swear makes an actual sound in the relative quiet of the room. Like the crack of a twig underfoot. Without a beat or taking another look at his cards he growls, “I’m in.”

Ketch seems less and less oblivious to Dean’s anger and more like he’s actively ignoring it. Or he's simply much better at whatever game they’re playing. It’s certainly not about poker. “Care to reveal yourself Y/N?”

You lay down your cards with a sloppy smirk on your face, “four of a kind.” You’re pretty pleased with yourself and turn to Dean playfully, “you’re up cowboy.”

“I can’t beat that,” he drawls, putting his cards on the table face down. There's a grin all for you at beating him but before you can get lost in a wordless moment with him Ketch steals your attention again.

“Looks like I win.” He turns over a goddamn royal flush and you resist making some lame joke about his monarchy. Instead, you crease your forehead at him and throw your hands up in the air.

“Really? This was supposed to be my round.”

“Would you have wanted me to let you win?”

Normally your answer is no but normally you don’t have the better half of two bottles of wine swirling around your stomach, “yes. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Dean snorts and you throw a glare in his direction, “what are you laughing at? You’ve still gotta beat him, you know, for America!”

Ketch sees his opportunity and pounces, “what about for you?”

Even though everything, since he’s got here, has pointed to you being what they’re fighting over it’s still momentarily jarring to hear it out loud. You scoff, “I don’t know what you do in England but here…”

“I’m not suggesting anything more nefarious than a kiss.”

“A kiss?” You parrot back to him and he nods. You can’t look at Dean but suddenly he’s all you can think about. KIssing Dean would either put your crush to bed or push you to obsession. Either way, it’d be something real and tangible. Something yours, if only once.

Dean is noticeably silent as you sit back in your chair and Ketch, thankfully, doesn’t break eye contact with you. He’s daring you. Even sober you’re too competitive to walk away from his challenge.

“Done. Winner gets a kiss.”

Ketch smirks, “we have an accord then.”

Dean wins the next round but Ketch had a substantial haul from your ‘all in’ idiocy so it doesn’t wipe the Englishman out completely. The corner of his mouth does twitch ever so slightly as Ketch’s shoulder slump in defeat though.

You’re sitting opposite them both silent. Refusing to show anything more than a passing interest in the game. The ice that you’re swirling in your drink is far more interesting. At least, that’s what you try to convince yourself.

Ketch wins the next round but the ante hadn’t been as reckless. His victory probably puts them on more or less even footing now, both of them hoarding a fairly equal pile of chips.

That’s when you realize how equally matched they both seem to be. Offering a kiss to the winner hadn’t seemed weird until the third game starts. Fairly instantly this feels like the deciding game and now you’re sitting there as less of an observer and more of a prize. There’s not a crack in their poker faces and though neither of them looks at you it still feels like you're under the spotlight.

Dean downs his glass when he looks at his cards which you initially think is bad but then he bets big so was it a bluff? Ketch leans back confidently but then seems more reluctant to call, that is until the last round when predictably both of their pots, every last chip, ends up in the middle of the table.

“Y/N what’s that phrase I’m looking for?” Dean asks you without actually looking at you, he’s in a battle of eye contact with Ketch.

You’re startled out of your silence, “what?”

“Oh yeah, read ‘em and weep.” He turns to you now, “or in your case pucker up.”

There’s that heat creeping up the back of your neck again and you face is forcefully trying to stop a grin spreading out over it. If you didn't know any better your heart just pumped out of your chest like a cartoon.

“While I appreciate your confidence it would appear that for the second time today it’s your hard luck.” Ketch elegantly spreads his cards over the top of Deans as if he needed an extra illustration that his hand beats Dean’s.

You tear your eyes away from the cards to look at Dean who is mostly frozen in place. Ketch wastes not a second before he’s out of his chair and walking around the table, holding out a hand to you. “If you’d be so inclined I’ll take my winnings and get off to bed.”

A hand slams on the table behind you but Dean holds whatever he might have said inside as you slide your hand in Ketch’s and stand up. It’s just a kiss you think. You’re the one who should feel the most awkward considering your crush. Even so, it’s just a kiss.

Ketch is a man of style so a kiss is not just a kiss.

He pulls you to him with your hand and slides his other to the back of your neck. His hand at your neck, in your hair, is a means to support you while he dips you in his arm and presses his lips to yours. For all the showmanship and flourish he puts into it the kiss is relatively tame. It’s a chaste press of his lips on yours, he doesn’t try for anything more. But it’s a long moment in time and between that and the slight headrush as he pulls you upright again there’s still the ghost of a breathless giggle on your lips when he lets go of you.

“Goodnight Y/N, you’re welcome.” He whispers as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Good game Dean,” he adds in a bright, chipper voice as he leaves for his room.

You had no mind to follow him and ask for an explanation. At that point, you’re still under the impression that he means you’re welcome for the kiss because you still don’t understand what Ketch had meant all those hours ago in the library. You still don't understand what Ketch has been doing all day since he first saw you and Dean together.

“Erm, I’m going to- I think I should get to bed too.” You say looking everywhere but at Dean because if he saw the way you’re biting your lip to hide a smile he might get the wrong idea. You don’t want to sleep with Ketch, it’s just been a while since you were kissed is all.

The problem with your escape plan is Dean himself. You make it all of two steps down the corridor when calloused fingers wrap around your upper arm.

“Dean, what the…?” the surprise in your voice is knocked out of you by a few things happening at once. He boxes you in with your back pressed against the hard wall behind you. One of his hands is pressed against the wall beside your head and the other still on your arm, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. His head is slightly dipped in your direction and it might be the closest you've ever been to him while his focus is all on you. He’s making the absolute choice to invade your personal space.

“You’re not following him are you?”

For the first time, you notice there’s a hint of worry in his face and a knot in his brow. Though you don’t understand it you are quick to expel his fears.

“No! I told you I was going to bed.”

The switch is instant, worry turns into something deeper. His eyes darken in a stark contrast to the usual rich green and his tongue darts out over those fucking full lips. Which makes you stare at his mouth obviously, catching every syllable as he forms it.

“Good, good.”

“Why? You’re not jealous are you?”

“I don’t get jealous sweetheart.” His hand creeps up your body, his fingers nimble and soft over your shoulder and neck before his fingers settle over your cheek. You want to call him out on his complete and utter bullshit but it’s hard when just a simple touch leaves you struggling to breathe.

“So, you’re not about to tell me I’m yours or some macho jealous crap?”

He ducks a little lower, his lips barely brushing your as he answers, “Nah, I’ll show you instead.”

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278

#spn x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural #supernatrual #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #reader insert #i'm sorry this is dumb #this fell out of my butt and I'm sorry

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justheretobreakthings · 6 years ago

Text

Remember Me - Chapter 15

(First Chapter) (Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Word Count: 3,459 (Total Word Count: 60,826) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

It was strange enough for the paladins of Voltron to have found another human this far from home, locked in a Galra prison. But it was stranger still when this human insisted that he knew them, and even that he was the former red paladin of Voltron.

That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? After all, if this Keith was actually a part of the Voltron team, then why does nobody remember him?

Chapter Preview:

“Hang on a sec - ” Keith said, holding up a hand. “What, um - what exactly are you asking me right now?”

“Basically,” Shiro spoke up from the other couch, “We had been thinking that, while you’re here in the castle, it might be good to have you take part in some of Voltron’s activities. Lend a hand in some missions, join the group training, things of that sort. We’ve gotten to see a bit of your fighting and flying in action, so we know you have the capabilities. So, if you’re up for it...”

For a moment Keith seemed frozen in place, gaping at Shiro, and when he answered, his voice was soft and shaky. “You… you want to me to - to be a paladin again?”

“So, question,” Lance said. “Is there a way we can start moving some comfortable furniture in here? Couple sofas, bean bags if you got ‘em? And maybe, like, some speakers or a TV or, you know, something to keep people entertained?”

“This is a medical bay, Lance,” Allura said. “Not a lounge.”

“I know that,” Lance said. He arched his back to stretch out before folding his legs and repositioning himself on the steps he was sitting on. “But, I mean, think about how much time we all spend hanging out in here just waiting for people to finish up cycles in the healing pod or wake up from comas and stuff. Wouldn’t it make sense to be more comfortable while we do it?”

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be, you know,” Pidge grunted from beside him without looking up from the tablet in her arms.

“Coran said Keith’s coming out in fifteen doboshes and then we all have to meet,” Lance said. “That’s twenty minutes, right Hunk?”

“Yep,” Hunk answered.

“So, now, what am I supposed to do in the space of twenty minutes?”

“A man from Bilhai once did a thousand push-ups in twenty minutes,” said Pidge.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

“Fine, then go sing a four-minute song to yourself five times and stop interrupting my work.”

Lance snorted. “Interrupting your work,” he repeated under his breath. He knew full well that Pidge had programmed Snake onto that tablet, and that’s how she had been spending the past half hour while seeming oh-so-focused on the tablet’s screen.

“Well, I am going to go ahead over to the bridge before we debrief,” Allura said. “See if we got any replies. Lance, if you’re feeling restless, why don’t you come along?”

“Eh, beats just sitting around,” Lance said, clambering to his feet and following Allura out of the med bay. “So,” he said when they were in the hallway. “What ‘replies’ are you talking about?”

“I sent missives out to those groups in our coalition who would have resources to assist us in cargo transport,” Allura replied. “I’m hoping to be able to get a couple of convoys assembled to ensure safe delivery of those quintessence samples.”

“Delivery?” Lance asked. “We’re not keeping them?”

“They won’t exactly be doing much good sitting around in the castle. I’m arranging to send one of the containers to the Blade of Marmora. We’ll have them examine it and see if they can find any connection between the quintessence on the ship we raided and on the strain they’ve been pursuing in connection to Lotor. The other will be sent to Olkarion, for Ryner and her scientists to use in their quintessence research. Hopefully they will be able to determine what might be the cause of those energy fluctuations Pidge observed. Any information either of the two are able to give us could help us to determine what sort of work was being done on the quintessence.”

“Oh,” Lance said, wrinkling his brow in thought as they stepped into the bridge. “So, if they find something out about the quintessence, that’ll help us figure out where Keith comes from?”

Allura let out a sigh before approaching her console. “Honestly? I don’t know, and it seems a bit of a stretch that solving one will solve the other. The only thing we know for certain is that Haggar and her druids have been doing something with quintessence, and have done something with, or to, Keith. Whether the two are connected in any way beyond that, or whether we’d even be able to determine the connection if they are, remains in the air, and considering the scope of Haggar’s work, chances are slim that the connection is there. Still,” she added as she pulled her communication log up onto the holoscreen, “It remains the only trail we have. So until or unless it goes cold… we pursue it.”

“Mm,” Lance hummed, folding his arms and watching Allura’s screen. “Mystery-solving isn’t nearly as fun as they make it look on TV.”

Allura gave him a small smile, “Ah, yes, TV. And on an Earth program, how would they go about ‘mystery-solving’, hm?”

“Well, we’d probably get a talking dog to help us out, for one thing.”

“How, precisely, would that help us?”

“I dunno, morale? Any replies come in?”

“Yes,” Allura answered, her hint of a smile dropping to a frown. “One who currently cannot spare the crafts, one rebel group who can provide some, but we’ll definitely need more to keep the convoy reliably safe. And it seems Puania still does not wish to work with the Blade, and won’t make deliveries to Olkarion because it violates their trade agreement with Ceron KA-6 - although I am certain that this delivery would not fall under that agreement’s jurisdiction.”

“Why are we even letting those guys into the coalition?” Lance asked.

“They have voinerth ore.”

“Of course.”

Allura sighed again. “I wish I could simply wormhole the castle and make the deliveries myself, but I’d like this done soon, and since we also are going to be occupied checking the coordinates Pidge was able to download, and such a large number of trips via wormhole in that short of time was what wrecked our generator the last time.”

“Not to mention exhausted the hell out of you,” Lance pointed out.

“Yes, well.” Allura shrugged. “Some fatigue on my part ought not be a deciding factor in how we conduct our movements. By this point I’m accustomed to it. We all are.” She turned away from her console and back to him. “Well, I suppose I’ve nothing else to do here now I’ve seen to our replies. Shall we proceed back to the others for the debriefing?”

“Nothing would bring me greater joy.”

The group gathered in the paladins’ lounge for the debriefing once Keith was out of the cryopod and dressed, once again in a set of Lance’s usual day clothes. Keith had insisted on holding off on the typical post-cryopod shower and meal until after the debriefing - “No sense in keeping all the rest of you waiting,” he had said - so from where he was seated on the couch between Lance and Hunk, Lance could detect the faint formaldehyde-like odor of the cryopod’s juices that he hadn’t had the chance to washed away yet. He tried not to breathe in too deeply through his nose as they debriefed.

Allura gave the rest of the group the same explanation to where she was sending the quintessence as she had to Lance earlier, after a bit of awkward hedging during which she and Shiro tried to thank Keith for retrieving them while simultaneously scolding him for his methods. Keith seemed unfazed, simply keeping his arms crossed and nodding at the appropriate times. Lance did hear him mutter under his breath to himself at one point, something about “the ends justifying the means.”

The debriefing was turned to Pidge next, and she pulled the transportation logs she’d snagged from the ship up onto her tablet, mapping the route the ship had taken. Lance zoned out a little as Allura and Coran started to get into a thorough discussion over which locations the castle should check out itself and which could be delegated to others in the coalition, until Shiro spoke up to ask whether they needed to get this figured out during the debriefing or if they could hold it off for later.

Coran gave them a quick rundown of the damage report from the battle, which fortunately was minimal. Their biggest overhead loss had been the damage to Keith’s cruiser, which, Coran mentioned, would have to undergo repairs soon, as the castle’s vehicle supply was still low and they needed as many in working condition as possible. Beside Lance, Keith curled tighter into himself with a mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already apologized, my boy,” Coran said, flicking his hand as if brushing the apology aside. “It’s nothing that myself and Hunk cannot care of over the next few quintants.”

“I can help fix it, if you want,” Keith said. “I mean, since I, uh, I was the one to break it in the first place. Told you guys before that I’ve worked with vehicles.”

“Much obliged,” Coran said with a nod. “I’m sure you’ll be of great help.”

“Speaking of Keith’s help…” Shiro said, looking over toward Allura.

“Yes, yes, we were going to get to it,” Allura said before rising from her seat and rejoining Coran at the front of the room. Keith sat up straighter, watching her before sending a curious glance to the others, which Lance answered with an uncertain shrug. “One final item on the agenda before we dismiss,” Allura continued, returning Keith’s gaze. “Things have, of course, since your arrival here at the castle, been fairly up in the air in regards to how you spend your time with us during your stay, as well as how you can contribute to Voltron’s cause.”

Keith fidgeted in his seat as Allura went on, “Recently, Shiro and myself reopened the discussion regarding responsibilities we are willing to entrust to you, and although given the unknown variables of your circumstances I hesitate to declare that we are intending to open to you full privileges enjoyed under the title of paladin, we do both agree that until we are able to sort out your dilemma and return you to whence you came or, well, however we may end up ultimately resolving the situation, we could probably do with having your time with us made more productive and cooperative.”

No response from Keith, which Lance didn’t blame him for; he wasn’t even entirely sure that he understood what Allura was saying just now. After a pause, Allura leaned forward and continued. “Now, after your performance today, I feel it necessary to tell you now that this is probationary, and that we expect responsible behavior out of you. We need to be sure that you do not intend to go rogue when providing assistance, and your reliability and cooperation toward the paladins is key to - ”

“Hang on a sec - ” Keith said, holding up a hand. “What, um - what exactly are you asking me right now?”

For a moment Keith seemed frozen in place, gaping at Shiro, and when he answered, his voice was soft and shaky. “You… you want to me to - to be a paladin again?”

Shiro winced at that, and Allura hastened to say, “Well, no, not precisely, as a, ah, a paladin, by definition, is a pilot of one of the Lions of Voltron, and, of course, we’ve five lions, all already with their designated paladins, but, ah, we - we are open to you taking on some of the responsibilities alongside the paladins in battle situations and certain other matters. Perhaps you could consider it a paladin… apprenticeship?”

Keith nodded mutely as Shiro continued, “Now, like Allura said, this is on a trial basis. We can see how you mesh with the group in training, and for now we’re limiting this to select missions only until we know better where your strengths can best be put to use.”

“And of course, this is a privilege,” Allura said. “With conditions. And if we have reason to believe that this is not a position you are suited for or able to handle, it will be revoked.”

“But as long as you don’t abuse it, and as long as you respect orders from myself and Allura in training and in battle, and as long as we agree that you’re a good fit for the team, then there’s no reason why this shouldn’t be a long-lasting - ”

“Yes,” Keith interrupted. “Yes, yes, that’s fine, I - I can do that, I can - I can follow orders, I can be a good teammate, I swear, yes, I - ”

“Now, one more moment, Keith,” Allura said holding up a hand. “The reason we bring this up here and now rather than in private is that it’s important that all of the paladins feel comfortable bringing you into the fold. We need this decision to be unanimous before having you along for training and battles. Shiro and I have already approved the motion, under the conditions we’ve outlined just now, so now…” Her eyes drifted between the remaining three paladins. “Paladins, you are under no obligation either way, but it really must be unanimous if we’re going to go through with this change. Pidge? Aye or nay?”

“Aye,” Pidge answered simply and without hesitation. Lance wondered whether Pidge had been thinking over that hypothetical ‘excitement’ having Keith along on missions would bring, and whether she had determined that it sounded like it’d be worth it. That sounded like the sort of thing Pidge would do.

“Hunk?”

“Aye,” Hunk replied. He nudged Keith with his elbow and shot him a smile. “I mean, come on, by this point you’re practically part of the team already, right? About time we make it official.”

Allura nodded, and all eyes fell on Lance, including Keith’s own intense violet gaze. Something about it set something off somewhere in the back of Lance’s mind, a flicker of… something he didn’t quite recognize, but that was just a little unnerving.

But he shoved the flicker aside, along with any arguments about his recklessness and the fact that they still essentially didn’t have any real goddamn clue who this guy was, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, before clearing his throat and repeating more loudly. “Yeah. Aye.”

Keith sagged in relief, eyes shining, and within a fraction of a second Hunk had pulled him into a suffocating one-armed hug with a shout of, “Welcome to the team, buddy!” as the others watched, smiling.

“... Thank you,” Keith said, a hint of color appearing in his face. “I - I just - thank you.”

“Well, now that’s taken care of,” Allura said. “Keith, I expect you up bright and early for the team’s morning group training tomorrow. For now, you are all dismissed.”

“Come along and fetch me once once you’ve showered and eaten, Keith,” Coran said as the group rose from their seats. “We’ll see about getting you fitted for decent armor.”

Keith nodded to him as he made his way out, looking all the while like he was in a bit of a daze, enough so that he seemed to barely notice the congratulatory pats on the back Hunk and Pidge gave him as they left. Lance hung back, waiting for the others to go before tugging on Coran’s sleeve. “Hey, Coran?” he asked.

“Yes, Number Three?”

“As long as you’re getting armor made for Keith, do you think you can go ahead and make him some of his own clothes too? Nothing against him, just, I kinda get a little sick of sharing my wardrobe with him all the time, you know?”

“Oh, but those are his own clothes!” Coran said.

Lance raised a brow. “What? Did, uh, did you give some of my - ?”

“No, no, I made him some of his own. You two are close to the same size, but not precise matches you see.”

“... Oh.” Come to think of it, Keith’s had been fitting better into his clothes lately, but Lance had chalked that up to him regaining his weight and, well, maybe some sort of little outer space growth to account for the height. He hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought.

“Is that all right?” Coran asked, a thoughtful frown on his face. “You all have told me to simply copy your original ensembles to make new clothes, so I had assumed - ”

“Well, yeah, it’s just, you know, they’re - they’re sort of my clothes. It’s, uh, it’s - it’s weird, seeing someone else with - it’d, uh, it’d be like, if Shiro was suddenly going around wearing identical clothes to yours, you - you see how that would be weird?”

“Ah, of course, of course, I should’ve have considered!” Coran said, looking aghast. “You’re correct, of course, that would be quite upsetting!”

“I mean, you can still use my clothes as, like, a base or something, but - ”

“Yes, say no more, Lance. I’ll get something new whipped up for him postehaste. I must say, my boy, I’m rattled at the fact I hadn’t considered it earlier, simply rattled. Why, if anyone were to know the awkwardness of unintentional fashion matching, it would be I. I don’t know if I ever told you about the day I arrived for a luncheon with a group of delegates from Roglax only to find myself wearing precisely the same cravate as their most temperamental suzerain. Now, it certainly wasn’t the greatest amount of bloodshed I’ve ever witnessed at a Roglaxan luncheon, but it still…”

Lance swallowed back a sigh and resigned himself to a stiff smile and a lot of nodding for the next varga as he settled in for another long session of Coran anecdotes.

Lance’s decision to squeeze some extra time in on the training deck that evening had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Keith would be joining the group training tomorrow. He wasn’t trying to prepare himself in case the two of them sparred again tomorrow, and he was certainly not making sure his shooting eye was honed enough that Keith would have no choice but to admit that, at least in that skill, he was absolutely no match for the paladin.

No, it had nothing to do with any of that. He just had the time to spare and figured he’d make the most of it. So it was on the training deck he found himself that evening, ready in his paladin armor and ready to go.

“Select training level,” the computerized voice of the training deck said.

“Oh, I’m feeling daring tonight,” Lance said as he made his way to the center of the room. “Let’s go with level three tonight. Random module.”

“Level three selected.” A ring of floating training robots ascended from their places in the floor, and Lance grinned. This exercise was one of his favorite, perfect for training his sharpshooter eye.

“Module start in: five ticks.”

“All right, go time,” Lance said, lifting his bayard and willing it to its rifle shape. But the familiar sensation of the bayard transforming didn’t come. Startled, Lance stared down at the bayard, which sat innocently in his hand, still looking distinctly un-rifle-like. “Wha - ”

“Begin.”

“Wait, hang on, I - ” The training bots cut him off by firing toward him, and he hastened to bring his shield up from his gauntlet. “I’ve got technical difficulties, would you - ”

The shield shook under the blasts from the bots, and with a grunt Lance dove out of their way, giving himself a moment while they reoriented themselves to bang his bayard into the heel of his left hand like an old flashlight. “Come on, work, you stupid - ”

To his relief, the bayard finally gave in and expanded into his rifle, and with a grin, Lance jumped back into the fray. The bots were small targets, and moved fast, but Lance made quick work of them, spending the next few doboshes blocking, dodging, and shooting until all the bots were taken down.

He went another two rounds before, panting, he called a pause on the training module to take a water break. When he did, he let his bayard shrink back into its dormant form in his hand. He frowned down at it as he hydrated himself - his bayard had never done that before. It always responded immediately when he called it forward, never delayed.

That flicker again, as if a tiny part of the back of his mind had had a hint of realization and chosen not to let the rest of his brain in on it. Lance didn’t know what to make of it.

So he ignored it, and he set aside his water pouch and brought his bayard back to form, without having to argue with it this time, before returning to the middle the deck with a firm, “Resume training!”

#vldgen #vld fic #vld keith #vld lance #voltron fic #my writing #fic: remember me

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