#and said it's the nicest birthday she's had in ten years

[cultivating-wildflowers]

who hurt my coworkers that they think birthdays suck and are the worst thing ever?

[ceesimz]

Wallflower

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení

The main story can be found here, this is just a small one shot I had the idea for :)

Birthdays. What a massive inconvenience.

Actually, scratch that. You enjoyed other people's birthdays, just not your own. In fact, it was your worst nightmare. One of the most dreaded days of the year.

Having all of the attention on you? Having gifts and envelopes and surprises forced your way? People singing to you? God, it made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it.

Not to sound ungrateful, of course. The idea that people liked you enough to make a fuss of you did spark something in your heart, but it was too much. In the nicest way possible, it was utterly overwhelming, and often at some point during the day, there would be tears. Possibly a shutdown too, or  even a meltdown of some kind. 

All in all, it was a terrifying experience no matter how you spent it.

Now double that, triple it again, multiply it by ten, and that's how it felt waking up on your first birthday at Barcelona. 

For the whole month so far, you had near enough begged Ingrid to make sure the team doesn't do anything excessive. You needed the day to be as normal as possible, just so you could get through it. And to be fair to her, with a sad smile, she had promised that your wishes would be met. 

So waking up alone to an empty flat on the dreaded day was both calming and uncomfortable. You'd asked for it, obviously, so had to get over it. You showered, got dressed into your training gear, and sat down on the sofa whilst waiting for Ingrid to arrive. Again, it was just like any other day. If you ignored the way your phone vibrated every few minutes, that is. And the stomach-churning anxiety that only increased as time went on.

There was a knock on the door and, expecting it to be Ingrid, you shouted for her to come in. Except, it wasn't her. Though you couldn't really be too disgruntled by the surprise guest.

“Good morning, cariño. Can I come in?” Alexia peered around the door cautiously, smiling hopefully over at you. 

With a solemn nod, she quickly stepped in and closed the door behind her. In her arms was a bouquet containing some of the flowers you had gawked at way back when on your first date with her. That was a few weeks ago now, and being in the early stages of a relationship did have its difficulties, but only due to the adjustment of it. Everything else was, well, perfect. Alexia was perfect. 

But having her, your girlfriend, show up unannounced on your birthday wasn't the worst thing in the world, you supposed.

“Is it okay that I'm here?” She asked nervously, pausing a few feet away from you.

“It is.” You smiled shyly up at her, standing so you could greet her properly. 

In an instant, there was a cheesy grin on her face, and she placed the flowers down gently on your coffee table before lifting you off the ground into a tight hug.

“Happy birthday, mi amor.” She whispered before scattering light kisses from your neck, up to your cheek, down along your jaw, and reaching her final destination, sealing her greeting with a soft kiss to your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Stressed. Anxious.” You laughed nervously, leaning into her hand when she puts you down and cups your cheek.

“That’s okay. I… I haven’t made you feel worse by showing up, right? I can go if you would prefer.” With a silent shake of your head, you wrapped your arms back around her and buried your face in her shoulder. She smiled and happily complied, keeping you close to her. “Then I will stay.”

“I’m really glad you came.” You stated, slightly muffled by the material of her jumper. “Thank you.”

“No, no need to thank me. It is my girlfriend's birthday, and I will always show up for her if she lets me.” 

She voiced her determination to love you, even though those three words hadn't been said aloud by either of you yet. You were sure of it; the warmth you got in your chest was the first time an all-consuming feeling didn't feel quite so terrifying. It was at first, the initial realisation was something that kept you up at night for a few days, until one morning it clicked and all that was left was serenity and security in your feelings. Telling her such was an entirely different challenge.

After her latest admission, it took everything in you to keep those words inside rather than spilling straight out.

“Will you drive me to training?” You asked, seemingly out of nowhere. But, with so much running through your mind, so much weighing on you today, it was easier to stick to the simpler things rather than focus on all the stuff that’s overwhelming in that moment. The day still felt like a mountainous obstacle to get over, hence your need for simplicity and slight dissociative nature. 

“Of course. Have Mapi and Ingrid been yet?” Alexia said, watching as you pulled away and slumped down onto the sofa again, your legs pressed up against your chest and your arms folding around them. You shook your head no, to which she nodded and collected the flowers again to put them in a vase.

“Thank you for the flowers, Ale.” You mumbled, resting your chin on your knee whilst watching her and fidgeting with the TV remote. She smiled over at you from the kitchen before turning back to the bouquet, spreading some of the flowers out a little and leaving them on the kitchen counter. 

Another thing about your birthday, though it had only developed once you got into your teenage years, was that receiving gifts from people caused a lot of anxiety. When the dust settled, the sentiment behind each gift one was something you treasured. But getting them and opening them was an event you worried about much more than the average person- was your reaction what they wanted? Did you thank them enough? Did you come across as rude and ungrateful? There was just too much to think about.

With Alexia, you didn’t have to stress about any of those things. She was great at reading you by now, she knew what version she would get and when. And yet, her adoration still never faltered. You had come to know her just as well as she knew you, so you were sure she had gotten you other presents than just a bouquet of flowers (though they were more than enough for you) and that she was just waiting for the right time to give you her proper gifts. That, you were grateful for. 

“De nada, amor.” Alexia murmured as she sat down beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Instantly, you curled into her side, smiling when her lips pressed against your temple in a soft kiss. “Training will be okay, you know. I understand it is the unknown that makes you anxious, but once you have a ball at your feet, it will all calm down. Try to remind yourself that, okay?”

“I just hate the anticipation, the waiting. Want to get it over and done with.” You sighed, relishing in the comfort Alexia provides just by being beside you.

“I know. Time isn’t kind.” Alexia whispered, taking one of your hands with her free one and squeezing it. “You wanna skip breakfast at training?”

You raised your head quickly at her question, not even knowing that idea was a possibility.

“People won’t be mad if I do? That I won’t be there?” You checked, because if you could get away with doing such a thing, it’d get rid of a mighty chunk of your worries.

Being seated in the canteen with everyone at Barcelona on the one day dedicated to you was terrifying really. There would be expectations, possible celebrations, and the eyes of everyone would surely be on you. They meant well, you knew that of course, but that unfortunately didn’t make it any less frightening. Breakfast was a social event, for some hell-sent reason, whereas training was a professional setting, it was work. Avoiding it altogether would be a dream, except you know the mass disappointment it’d cause. And everybody knows how that ends.

“No one would be mad, cariño. They would understand.” Alexia physically felt the tension leave you under her hands at that, your body deflating as you let out a breath of relief. You moved to wrap your arms around Alexia’s torso then, and leaned up to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Ale. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You said, punctuated with yet more kisses.

All those weeks ago, Alexia had been right. Having someone by your side did make a lot of things so much easier. It was like night and day. You recognised the difference in yourself since you had met her, and you never knew it was possible for you to grow like this. With the move from Germany to Spain, you were well aware that there would be some changes for you, but the unknown came into play again. Would those changes be progression or regression? Evidently, and to your relief, it was progression. Your dream of thriving here was fast on its way to becoming true.

“Feliz cumpleaños, preciosa!” A certain Spaniard bellowed the second she opened your door, giving you and Alexia slight heart attacks.

“Mapi, dios mío! Why!?” Alexia groaned, you giggling beside her as you could hear her heart racing at the jumpscare so kindly given by the shorter woman.

“I warned her, she did not listen.” Ingrid sighed with feigned annoyance, but the second she looked over at you, there was a beaming smile on her face. “Come here, søster!”

Sheepishly, you unwound yourself from Alexia’s hold and walked over to Ingrid, laughing when she squished your cheeks together and kissed your forehead before embracing you tightly.

“Happy birthday!” Ingrid squealed, grunting when her girlfriend’s gangly arms flung around you both. Mapi squeezed you both together before looking over at Alexia who was watching the interaction fondly, still seated on the sofa.

“Ale, come join.” Mapi demanded, only for her to shake her head and wave the defender off. Mapi wasn’t having it though. She left the hug for a moment and grabbed her friend by the wrist to drag her over, before manually moving Alexia’s arms to wrap around the three of you. “Stop being a party pooper, Alexia. Get that grumpy look off your face, we know you are enjoying this.”

“Yeah, Ale.” You looked to your side at her with a teasing smile, the love radiating off of the both of you when your eyes met. Ingrid could feel it, Mapi could feel it. You were possibly the only two in the world opting out of acknowledging it.

After the impromptu group hug, Ingrid went over to the bag she had brought and unpacked a load of your favourite pastries. You knew she was making them for you, but in your anxious daze of the morning so far you’d entirely forgotten about them. The way your face lit up at the sight was enough for Ingrid’s day to be made and for Alexia’s heart to run wild in her chest. All four of you sat down at the dining table to share them since Ingrid had made enough for everybody, and like always you mostly stayed quiet and let the other three carry the conversation. You’d drop in every now and then, but most of the time you just liked to listen. They all knew that by now and were more than happy to keep the chat flowing, until it was time to leave for training.

Having Alexia drive you there had its advantages and disadvantages, and you were well versed with them by now. Being a passenger meant you were free to get caught up in your thoughts, which could either go really well or really bad. Meanwhile, being the driver meant you had to focus on the road, forcing the doubts to be silent. Yet, sometimes not having the chance to mentally work through what was stressing you out only made the situation worse.

In this instance, you had no time for overthinking when Alexia was emphatically singing along to any song that played on the radio, keeping you entertained and distracted for pretty much the whole journey.

It was a completely different story once you arrived though.

Alexia near enough had to lead you through the building and into the locker room, her hand on your back as a comforting reminder. Thankfully you managed to get there without bumping into anyone since the pair of you were some of the first to arrive. The only teammates you had seen so far were Ona, Aitana, and Jana, but they hadn’t seen you. Alexia had laughed when you ducked behind her dramatically, using her as a cover to stay hidden as they walked ahead of you both. They took a left turn to go to the canteen, whilst you headed in the other direction. 

You sat down at your cubby and slumped back against the wall, body sagging with relief. Alexia smiled softly and took her seat a few down the line, and the pair of you both booted up in comfortable silence. 

Being captain of the team, the midfielder obviously had the authority to get her team to listen to her. Without making much of a deal out of it, herself and Ingrid had discreetly gone around the team to ensure there were no surprises or big occasions prepared without your knowledge. Instead, they were taking a much more low-key approach that they hoped would convey just how overjoyed they were to have you on their team.

She sat not too far from you with the knowledge of what the surprise was, and she was probably the most excited out of the lot for you to receive it. It was nothing big, in fact most of the team worried it was too little, but having known you for so long Ingrid had reassured them there wasn’t really anything you would appreciate more than the gesture they had in mind. Some of the members you were slightly closer with had decided on small gifts of their own they would give to you in their own time, but for today, they would stick with their collective plan and hope for the best. 

“You ready for me to beat you at free-kicks?” Alexia grinned once she was ready, standing as she tied her hair back into her usual updo.

“I’ve beat you the last two times we’ve done this, I wouldn’t get too cocky.” You smirked, squirming when she squeezed your sides as you walked past her. “Plus, it’s my birthday.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that card. I’m definitely going to win now.”

For just over half an hour, you got invested in a free-kick contest with none other than La Reina herself. It had become somewhat of a tradition now, to the point where you had even made a points system for it. The further out you went, or the harder the angle, the more points you scored. A few months back, after Alexia had caught you once again avoiding breakfast, she had suggested the pair of you practise free-kicks after she had missed one in the game before that day. It quickly became a thing for you both, getting so competitive with each other and scoring goal after goal in the secluded morning sessions together, that a points system just had to be introduced after two draws in a row. Neither of you had looked back since. Those moments together, with a ball at your feet and the quiet company of the other, had become something you both looked forward to. 

Unfortunately, Alexia beat you this time, by just one point. One. And she was gloating like she’d gotten another Ballon d’Or.

“I told you, cariño. Just because it is your day doesn’t mean I will go easy on you.” She shrugged arrogantly, wandering back over to where you stood with your arms crossed petulantly over your chest. She grinned at the unimpressed look on your face, raising a hand to poke at the corner of your mouth. “Smile, amor!”

With a scoff, you swatted her hand away and turned to walk over to where your drink lay on the sidelines. Not a second later, you heard her jogging after you before two arms wound around your waist and a chin rested on your shoulder.

“You know I should have won that. You put me off.” You grumbled, referring to the moment she had crept up behind you and made a weird noise right by your ear just as you stepped off to take the kick.

“No no no, there was just a bug on your shoulder. I had to protect my girlfriend.” She said, grunting when you lightly jabbed your elbow back into her stomach.

“Protect me from what? A tiny fly? You are the only irritating little bug I need saving from.” You argued. As you picked up your own bottle, you got Alexia’s too, only you dropped it purposely when she went to take it from you. “What comes around, goes around, Alexia.”

Alexia wasn’t quick enough to come up with her own payback before the rest of the team started filing out for the actual training session. First came Esmee on her own, who, at the sight of you, immediately lit up and came over. Quietly, without making too much of a fuss, she wished you a happy birthday before hugging you. She was just as shy as you sometimes, so she left it at that. Ultimately though, being on a team of people that mostly came from affectionate countries, they all couldn’t resist. Funnily enough, you didn’t hate it. The hugs, the well wishes, the toothy grins sent your way, the cheek kisses and pats on the back were welcomed. It wasn’t overbearing, or too much, it made you feel… loved. And appreciated.

For the first time in your career, it didn't feel entirely fake either. Not that your other teams didn’t shower you in their gratitude, but it always felt like there was a barrier between you and them. Like you weren’t fully with them. You knew exactly why it felt like that, but not an ounce of you was prepared to solve it. This time around, that blockade wasn’t there. They knew you, not a facade, and still they willingly conveyed their feelings towards you. Quickly you were learning that this was the right way to live. Not like you had in the past, where you weren’t even half of your true self.

Living unapologetically as yourself was freeing. You couldn’t go back if you tried.

As always, you loved training. It was equal parts light-hearted and competitive, the perfect combination. Everybody was playing well, feeling well, and it was evident on everyone’s face. Not a moment passed without everybody smiling or laughing. Even during the gruelling seven-a-side game at the end. During a brief reprieve from the tight match where you were stood on the sidelines, watching on, it gave a moment of clarity. You did belong here. 

“Has Ale given you your presents yet?” Aitana joined you with a smile on her face, but you looked down at her in confusion. “Ah, I see. She hasn’t. Well, take it from me, they are really cool. You will love them.”

“What are they?” You tried to get it out of her, but obviously she wasn’t letting up that easily.

“You will see! I am not spoiling it.” She laughed. “Tell me when she has, I have to talk about them with you.”

“How do you know what they are?” You wondered, only for her to shrug slyly.

“You just have to find out. Go on! You’re being called back in.” She shooed you away, smiling again when you shake your head at her antics.

The game didn’t go on for much longer before the end of training was called. On the way in, you were watching Pina and Vicky spray each other with the remainders of their drinks, laughing when one of them accidentally sprayed Marta. Before you knew it, all of the ‘class clowns’ were chasing the team around with the ice cold liquids, and you found yourself at the centre of it. Apparently, turning 27 meant getting doused in sports drinks, because by the time you were back in the locker room, your shirt was mostly damp.

Alexia had stuck to the back of the group with Patri who had unusually opted out of joining in, though it wasn’t something you picked up on. The two were talking calmly as if there wasn’t a full blown water fight ahead of them, but Alexia knew Patri was itching to join in. What caused her to stay out of it though was very important to her. 

“Hey.” She came over to you in the locker room with a spare towel for you to somewhat dry yourself off with, another item hidden behind her back. “I have something else for you.”

You could tell everybody in the room was fighting to keep their eyes averted, but their curiosity got the better of them. After all, it was a small token of appreciation from everybody.

“Oh, okay. Sure, what is it?” You forced a smile, but below the surface, Ingrid and Alexia could tell there were alarm bells going off in your mind.

“Well it is your birthday, and though you said you don’t want to make a big deal of it, we couldn’t let it go under the radar. This is just something small from all of us.” Patri revealed an envelope in her hand and held it out for you. Your name was written on the front, as well as a huge smiley face.

“You don’t have to open it now, in front of everyone, don’t worry. Look at it in your own time, that’s more than okay.” The midfielder smiled her bright smile at you, squeezing your shoulder before heading back to her cubby. 

It was then that Alexia came over, standing beside you when you turned back to your space.

“Was that alright?” Alexia murmured quietly. Everybody else was back to doing their own thing now, giving you two the privacy you probably needed.

“Yes, just unexpected.” You said, eyes still staring at the yellow envelope.

“I know. Like Patri said, you don’t have to open it now. You can look at it whenever, it’s fine. Okay?” She checked, smiling in relief when you looked up at her and nodded.

“Did you do this?” You wondered. Instantly, there was a redness to her cheeks that couldn’t be blamed on the weather or the training session beforehand.

“I may have played a part in it. But it was the other guys’ idea. I just approved it.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “You showering?”

“Yep. When I get out, I’ll look at it.”

You liked taking your time in the shower post-workout, whether that be training or a game or even just a 5k jog. By the time you got out, most of the team had left. It was just Alexia sat there on her own, scrolling through her phone whilst she waited for you. One of her legs was bouncing up and down, and you weren’t sure if that was a sign of anything or not.

“Ale?” You got her attention as you dropped your towel and training kit down into your locker, now dressed in comfy sweats and a t-shirt.

“Mhm?”

“I’m going to open the envelope now.” You stated shyly. She tried to disguise the excitement on her face, but she didn’t do a great job. It didn’t really help your nerves, but there were worse audiences to do it in front of.

“Absolutely, go for it.”

Shaking hands tore open the paper, revealing a birthday card. What was in it, though, made it much more than just a card.

On both pages inside were personal messages from every member of the team. From Cata, to Irene, to Salma, and even Alexia. From the first one you read, there were tears in your eyes. Alexia could read you well, but she wasn’t perfect yet.

“Amor? Are you not happy?” She asked nervously, coming over to you. You shook your head, only worrying her further, before burying your face in her chest. “I’m so sorry you don’t like it. I’m so so sorry. I-”

“No, I love it. I really, really love it.” 

Every message was personal, not just a generic one. Whether it contained an inside joke or a compliment, you couldn’t have imagined they thought these things about you. They weren’t saying things for the sake of a congratulatory message, or just to come across as kind, they were deeply meaningful and thought-out. From Mapi’s teasing message that was filled with love, to Frido’s reminder of the car park fiasco and how she signed it as ‘cupid’, to Aitana’s that relayed the memory of your first goal, signifying it wasn’t just a special moment for you but for her too. 

You were left speechless. All you could do was read it again and again and again, something you know you’d be doing for the rest of your life. You’d get it framed if it was socially acceptable. 

The idea, no, the fact that these people, Ballon d’Or winners, World Cup winners, Euros winners, the people you held at such a high regard like this. It was almost unimaginable, if it wasn’t written right in front of your eyes. If the months beforehand hadn’t shown you how important it was to be vulnerable and open and honest, this gesture sealed that decision and was all the proof you needed that everything that had led you to this moment, the good and the awful, was undoubtedly worth it. 

You were part of a record breaking team, sure, but it was the people in it that made your personal dreams come true.

“I wrote my message last so that nobody saw me being soft.” Alexia admitted, making you giggle as you read hers. “So you are okay with it?”

“Okay with it? Alexia, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” You said, placing the card down and embracing her tightly. “Thank you. I need to thank everyone, but thank you.” 

“I’m glad.” She whispered. “There was one issue on my behalf though.” 

“What?” You wondered, leaning back and looking up at her with a frown.

“I was too scared to write how I truly felt.” Well fuck, if that didn’t make your heart drop and your stomach churn.

“Ale, what do you mean?” You said quietly, taking a step back from her. She chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

“I… wanted to write that I love you in it, but I didn’t want to ruin the card.” 

It took a few moments for your mind to settle at that proclamation, but eventually it did. It left Alexia stood there, looking terrified though.

Your first thought, once the commotion had settled in your mind, was that you were utterly in love with her too. You kind of thought you’d known that the day she took care of you when you collapsed in training. Your second thought was, why would that ruin the card?

“Ale, you’re such a dork.” You laughed. Okay, maybe not the best reaction. “You must know that I love you too, right?”

“You do?” Alexia asked in a childlike wonder, as if all her wildest dreams were coming true. “You sure?”

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that.” You said. Any further doubts that began to creep in were immediately cut off when she cradled your face and kissed you. Just like you did to her during your first kiss.

“I love you, cariño, and I will not have you worrying otherwise. I really love you.” Alexia breathed out, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

“I really love you, too.” You stated shyly, gazing up into the eyes you'd come to love, only to see sincerity and mirth swirling in the hazel of her orbs. She wasn't kidding, this wasn't some evil birthday prank, she actually was in love with you.

It certainly wasn't a gift you were expecting, but it topped them all indefinitely. Frankly, it was hard to process. Hard to comprehend. How someone of her stature could love a person like you. But, seemingly so, it would have to be something you came to terms with. Because she was stood before you, professing exactly how she felt, and when she gave such a brave show like that, it'd be cruel to reject her.

Except, there was one question you had.

“Was that the gift that Aitana mentioned?” 

“What? No!” Alexia tutted, rolling her eyes affectionately as you grinned. “Your actual gifts are in the boot of my car, in the cardboard box I told you was full of old Barça kits.”

That wasn't a total lie. In the aforementioned box, there were old kits in there, but they weren't all Barça ones. They were real, match-worn shirts from not only Alexia's collection she'd made over the years, but from Aitana's, and Mapi’s, and a few of Alexia's ex-teammates turned good friends. They ranged from international jerseys, like the USWNT jersey with Christen Press' name and number, as well as one of Christine Sinclair's Canada shirts. Not to mention the array of club kits. There were loads of them, god knows how valuable they all were, but you adored every single one. Your personal favourite was Alexia's old Barça shirt from her first season in 2012, one of your favourite designs from Barcelona as a whole.

The fact that Alexia had listened to your stories of when you were younger where you were crazy for any kind of memorabilia, even going as far as asking her friends for their shirts, was a notion you couldn't begin to understand. To be loved is to be heard, and Alexia had taken that phrase and ran with it. You gazed at each shirt, having laid them out across your bed to send a video to Ingrid (and Aitana, of course), but for a while you just stared at them. 

Alexia stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, a proud smile on her face. She knew she had done a good job, but seeing you geek out like you were over them was so endearing, she couldn't help but fall further in love. It was her mission to show you a life of joy and compassion, and in her professional opinion, she'd made a damn good start.

Her love for you was woven through the fabric of the jerseys she had gifted. Your approval of that fact was shown in the way you barely let her out of your hold for the rest of the evening, even as you slept that night. 

The be all and end all of everything was written into the bonds formed with people in the world, and yours with Alexia was enough reason to wake up everyday with a smile on your face and contentment in your heart. The essence of your existence was not limited to the three words of your medical diagnosis, but rather the three words that were whispered in your ear the moment you opened your eyes in the morning and the moment you closed them at night.

Maybe birthdays didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[manygeese]

Part two folks! author’s note at the end ❤️

Edit: chapter three is out

Chapter Two

The night of Prince Leo’s tenth birthday was an important one indeed. Not only was a ball to be held, but the neighboring kingdom’s royal family was to be in attendance. Leo’s mother and father seemed particularly excited about that part.

Leo himself was eager to meet the other nation’s prince. If he was lucky, he could convince the boy to dance with him. Though, that was if his parents let him leave their sides. They were oddly protective of him on his birthday.

He was awakened from his thoughts by a hand on his cheek. When he looked up from the floor, he met his mother’s eyes. “Are you ready, mi cariño?”

“Yes, Mama,” Leo grinned.

His mother smiled sadly. “You’re growing up so fast.”

“Mama, I’m ten. I’m not that old.”

She sighed. “I know.” She nodded. “I know.”

They heard the herald trumpeting, signaling that it was time to enter the ballroom. He felt his father’s hand, calloused from his time in the forge, rest on his shoulder.

He smiled winningly as they walked through the door, waiting for the herald to announce him and his parents before attempting to disappear into the crowd. His plan was foiled, however, by his father’s grip on his shoulder. He tried not to look disappointed.

His father gave Leo a questioning look, wondering why he had tried to leave. Met only with a shrug and an unenthusiastic grin, the king rolled his eyes and let the queen do the talking.

“Leo, we have someone we want you to meet. You can leave after you’ve greeted them,” she assured, although she hoped that he wouldn’t want to leave.

The young prince relented, following his parents’ slow lead.

His parents stopped in front of a tall, radiant woman and a powerful looking man. A boy was close to the lady’s side, not quite clinging to her, though Leo could tell he wanted to.

“Queen Hera, King Zeus,” his mother greeted, more of a talker than his father was. “We’re delighted you and your son could make it tonight.”

Leo should have expected this. After all, who else could his parents have wanted him to meet? He had known just about everybody else in this room since birth. Still, he had to fight to keep the pleasant surprise off of his face.

King Zeus just grunted and took a swig of his drink. Queen Hera smiled graciously. “Is this Leo?” She asked politely, looking down at him. “Happy birthday, dear boy,” she said before she got an answer.

“Thank you, your majesty,” he responded, bowing his head.

“And this is Jason?” His mother motioned to the boy at Queen Hera’s side. The other queen nodded, pushing him forward.

Leo smiled and waved, trying to relieve some of the tension. The other boy, Jason, returned it nervously.

“You boys go have fun,” Queen Hera said, though it was more of a command than a suggestion. At Jason’s clear apprehension, she added, “We’ll be around if you need us.”

Before Jason could protest, Leo took the other prince’s hand and lead him away from where their parents were talking. He swore he could hear a slight chuckle from his father, but he decided to ignore it, instead escaping into the crowd.

“Where are we going?” Jason asked timidly.

Leo looked over his shoulder, stopping for a moment. “Somewhere quiet. I figured you would want some peace.”

Jason looked surprised, like the idea that somebody might think of his comfort had never occurred to him before. “That sounds nice,” he replied, smiling softly.

Leo snorted and went on walking, though he had slowed down to an amble. He thought that might be more Jason’s speed. “Yeah, well you’re talking to the boy who knows the most about this castle besides the original architect. I know the nicest places in all of the kingdom.”

“Who’s the original architect?”

“My dad, actually,” Leo continued. “This wing of the castle burnt down two years ago and he rebuilt it, made some renovations in older places here and there. I wanna be like him when I grow up- building stuff, making things, all that.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about the fire.”

“It’s alright, it was evacuated before anybody could get hurt. Besides, it looks so much prettier now.”

Jason hummed in acknowledgment, letting the conversation lull. The silence wasn’t as awkward as it was before.

Leo lead Jason up a flight of spiral stairs, which opened onto the floor above the outside of the ballroom. It was almost silent, the only sound being the slight clamor from the party. Leo went a bit to the right and stopped at a royal portrait of his parents. He crouched next to the picture frame, searching for something. Near the bottom corner, he pried a part of the moulding up, which caused the painting to turn slowly, revealing a dark passage.

When Leo saw the surprised look on Jason’s face, he smirked. “I told you I knew everything about this castle,” he snickered. “Did you doubt me?”

“I don’t anymore,” Jason said, leaning into the tunnel and investigating. The placement of the painting was too high up for either boy to step over it from the ground, so Leo dragged an ottoman over to the wall. He clambered on top of it and disappeared over the side with a muffled thud.

Leo saw Jason peek over the frame, a concerned look on his face. “You alright?” The other prince questioned.

“I’m okay. I put a couple blankets down here after my first tumble,” he explained. He stumbled to his feet, fluffing the pillows while he was at it, then gesturing downwards. “What are you waiting for? Absolutely zero potential concussions down here,” he joked.

Jason breathed out a laugh. “Incoming,” he warned as he dropped, landing on his feet.

Leo huffed. “Showoff,”

“Am not! I didn’t want to hit myself on anything. It’s called ‘a sense of self preservation’. Ever heard of it?”

“I’ve gotten this far without it,”

“You’re ten. Not exactly an achievement,”

Leo barked out a laugh. “Come on, Mr. Self Preservation, we’re not done yet. Do me a favor and close the portrait behind you.”

Jason stood on his toes to grab the edge of the painting and pull it back to its original position. Leo waved him deeper into the passage.

The corridor was short, ending with a heavy wooden door. Leo turned his back to the door, putting all his weight on it to try and push it open. It fell open, and Leo went with it, letting out an oof. Jason chuckled.

“Falling twice in two minutes,” Jason observed, offering a hand to the fallen boy. “Are you going for the record?”

Leo scoffed, taking it. “I could do much better than ‘twice in two minutes’. You underestimate me.”

The door opened into a small nook, surrounded by artfully placed vines. There were fireflies flitting around in the evening breeze, crickets chirping, and the sun was setting in the courtyard. If they leaned over the railing, the two boys could see into the ballroom beneath them.

Leo sat down, Jason following suit. “Have you ever shown this place to anybody before?” Jason said after a companionable silence.

“No. I mean, my dad knows about it, but he’s never followed me in,” Leo admitted.

“I wish I had a place like this back at my castle.”

“Like, a private one? This isn’t really private. The forge would be private right now- my parents close it on my birthday- but any guest at the ball could look up right now and see us here.”

“But only we know how to get up here. They can’t reach us. It’s our secret.” He wore a smile so fond it was almost goofy.

Leo hummed thoughtfully, letting it be quiet for a minute or two.

“That party’s for me and I’m not even there,” Leo said with a laugh in his voice, pointing to the ballroom, scooting close to the edge and dangling his legs off of it.

“Do you want to go back?” Jason asked, making to stand up.

“No.” Leo’s response was immediate and more than a little desperate. “I like it here. With you. I do wish I could dance, though,” he said wistfully, hearing the music drifting out from the celebration.

“We can still dance.”

Leo looked to Jason hopefully. “I didn’t think you would want to.”

“When I got here, I didn’t- I usually feel so self conscious when I do it at my family’s celebrations- but you might just be the exception.” Jason still had on that silly grin as he offered Leo his hand once again. Leo took it.

The other prince pulled Leo up into a standing position, holding their joined hands in between them. Jason placed his other hand on Leo’s back. Leo put his free hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“One, two three, one, two three, one, two three,” Jason muttered under his breath as they performed the steps. Leo wondered why he found it so charming.

“How long are you and your family going to be here?” Leo whispered.

“Not long after the party ends. Till the morning, if we’re lucky.”

“That’s a shame,” Leo sighed, although he was a little giddy about he and Jason already being a we. “Next time I can show you around the kingdom with my friends.”

“Your parents let you go out? Unsupervised?”

“Not unsupervised. My guard, Beckendorf, comes with us, but he’s like a brother to me. I don’t think of him as supervision. It’s like he’s tagging along. Do your parents not let you go out?”

“Not really,” Jason confessed, “but that sounds nice. I’d like to do that with you,” he paused. “Maybe, if you ever come to my kingdom, I can return the favor.”

“I’d like that too.”

~*~

Later that night, after the ball had ended, two pairs of monarchs were searching for their sons.

Jason’s older sister, Thalia, who really hadn’t wanted to come, had spotted the two boys on an alcove outside the ballroom. She chuckled to herself as she watched her mother fret, deciding it was too funny to tell her.

King Hephaestus finally spotted the out-of-place ottoman, connecting the dots. He absentmindedly opened the secret passageway with the lever on the frame, stepping over the wall and into the corridor. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he opened the door at the end of the hall.

There were the two princes, asleep on each other’s shoulders with hands laced together, snoring softly. The king sighed, relieved and amused, as he went to tell the others of his discovery.

~*~

Author’s Note

This is where the plot veers off from the original Disney movie (technically it started in the second section of the first chapter but shhhh 🤫). I decided to change it a little because it’s so WEIRD to just take a whole ass child for 16 years and expect the parents to be a-okay with it? Also I love Esperanza and wanted to write her more :) once again thank you to @scentednightdonut for being my editor!

Edit: forgot to tag the people from my first ever post so here they are (again let me know if you don’t want to be tagged)

@queenjunothegreat

@acetheta

What’s Next: Leo at his vacation home ✨

[foxes-that-run]

DId Stevie Nicks know both T & H back in 2012-2014 while they were dating? I could only see some info about first metting H in 2015.

He met Mick Fleetwood at the One Direction show at the Rose Bowl on 14 September 2014 when Mick brought his teenage daughters. The band fanboy'ed and Harry and Mick became friends, Mick said they were pen pals with Harry writing from all over tour. The Harry is Mick's son he never had idea started as about Mick. Harry was at a Fleetwood Mac concert 30 November 2014 so if Harry and Stevie hadn't met they probably did then. The cake being when they met become legend much later.

The carrot cake at a Fleetwood Mac concert was 27 May 2015, Gemma posted her with Stevie backstage to Instagram, US weekly reported about the cake at the time. Harry told Rolling Stone “Piped her name onto it. She loved it. Glad she liked carrot cake.” There are no cake photos. In 2017 Stevie said, note it doesn't say they met, though Gemma implied she met Stevie then:

‘When we did the last Fleetwood Mac show, on my birthday,’ Nicks recalls, referring to the band’s gig at London’s O2 in May 2015, ‘it was the nicest birthday I’d had in ten years. Harry Styles brought back a cake. Mick [Fleetwood] has kind of adopted him. There are just women in Mick’s family and Harry is that tall, lanky musical son he always wanted, so they keep in touch.’

And then Lindsey Buckingham came to a One Direction Show 16 July 2015, Niall posted to Instagram and you can see Harry facing away between them.

And it's later but here is Harry in 2018 with the rest of Fleetwood Mac including Christine

Taylor met Stevie in 2010 at the Grammy's and Taylor started wearing the moon necklace then and then again in 2015 - on the last time she was seen with Harry.

[kjmsupremacist]

something sweet, a peach tree (mark/jaehyun)

Mark begins the summer after his junior year with an unpaid internship and no other plans. But when he agrees to go pick his baby niece up from her music lessons, her teacher, Jeong Jaehyun, catches his eye. Too bad he’s off limits, and not just because Mark’s niece is involved. Jaehyun is 41 to Mark’s 20.

To sate his curiosity about older men, Mark decides to look into becoming a sugar baby. He could use the money, after all. And he seems to find a willing patron right away. But for the first time in Mark’s like, he finds he might be in over his head.

Chapter 6   |  prev   next   mlist

Characters: Mark, Jaehyun, other members of nct throughout

Genre: romance, angst, smut, age gap, sugar daddy!au

Pairing: Mark/Jaehyun

Warnings: AGE GAP (older jaehyun, younger mark), alcohol and vomit mentions

Rating: Explicit/Mature we're toeing the line here

Length: 6.4k

July passes quickly and without consequence. Mark’s life is pretty much the same—weekdays spent in the office, weekends with Jaehyun. His birthday falls on a Friday, so he’s going to James and Annie’s for dinner, and then out for drinks with Johnny and Yuta and Ten. Jaehyun was the first out of everybody he knows to wish him a happy birthday, the text coming in right at midnight. Mark is trying not to think about it, because it’s making him kind of giddy, and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself.

James picks him up from work, AC blasting in his Prius. “Mom made me promise we’d call,” he warns as he pulls out into traffic. “So I’m gonna get us together for that as soon as we get home, before Lucy gets too tired.”

“Sounds good,” Mark says, amused. 

“Speaking of Lucy,” James continues, “I was hoping to take Annie on a little vacation next weekend. Just one night, we’d leave Saturday morning and be back Sunday afternoon. Think you could watch her for us?”

“If you pay for our food,” Mark agrees. “And pick me up and drop me off.”

“Fair enough,” James says, shaking his head. “You’re hired.”

Mark laments the lost time with Jaehyun in his head, but he can’t really put his heart in it. It’ll be fun to hang out with Lucy, and she goes to bed early so he can stay up playing video games or something. Besides, Mark likes Annie, so he has to help his brother do something nice for her. 

Deals struck, they spend the rest of the car ride chatting about Mark’s birthday plans. Johnny said he had an itinerary for them but wouldn’t tell Mark what it was, and Yuta and Ten both seemed pretty excited, so Mark’s a little nervous.

“I’m kind of scared they’re taking me to some crazy strip club or something,” Mark says. 

“If they are, don’t call me to come pick you up because I’m just gonna laugh my ass off,” James says, grinning, as he pulls into his driveway.

Lucy is at the door with her mother, telling Mark happy birthday as soon as she lays eyes on him. “Eomma said you’re—twenty-one,” she says. “You’re way bigger than me.”

“I think that’s the nicest way to be called old,” James says with a laugh. “Believe it or not, Luce, you’re gonna be twenty-one someday, too!”

Mark takes her hand. “I’d rather be three than twenty-one,” he says. “Three’s a good age.”

“Three’s the best age,” Lucy agrees firmly. “‘Til I’m four, and then four’s the best, and then five…” 

Annie brings dinner to the table while James tries to figure out where he wants to put his iPad for the call. Finally, he settles on leaning it up against the napkin holder on the far side of the table and calls their parents.

“Happy birthday!” his parents burst out in unison as soon as the FaceTime connects. 

“Thank you,” Mark says with a grin.

They chatter about his life, how work’s going, if he’s ready for school in the fall. His dad tells him they’ve sent him a little care package that should arrive in a couple days.

“What are your plans for tonight, Mark?” his mother asks. “Oh, do you have someone special to take you on a date?”

“No, I’m just going out with some friends,” Mark says over Lucy’s giggling. 

“Aw, that’s good, but I hope you can find someone soon!” his mom presses. “James and Annie were already together at your age. Our Mark is so smart and handsome, I’m sure plenty of boys are interested!”

“Ugh, Eomma, I’m busy with school, I’m not like James. He had himself figured out.” Mark makes a face at James across the table, trying to ignore the strange stinging in his chest. “I can barely manage myself, how am I supposed to manage somebody else?”

“But you’re all alone,” his mother protests. “We worry about you!”

Mark knows she means well, and normally this kind of questioning honestly wouldn’t bother him. He’s fine not having a partner. Except… he thinks of Jaehyun. It’s not exactly true now, that he’s alone. And Jaehyun is going to be the reason he’ll remain publicly single for the foreseeable future, at least. But he’s not the same as a real boyfriend. He never will be. Because even if Mark and Jaehyun could work something out, how on earth would he tell his parents? They’d never accept it. Would they? “I have my friends,” Mark says instead, but it sounds a little flat to his own ears. “I’m fine, really.”

“Mark’s independent,” his father chimes in, saving him. “He’ll settle down when he’s ready.”

They exchange a few more pleasantries, the parents asking after Lucy. Mark lets her steal the spotlight, mind darkening with thoughts of the future and not quite able to focus on the bright conversation at hand. He does tune back in to finally say goodbye with a promise to call soon, and they’re left to dig into their cooling dinner.

Once they eat, Mark helps James clear the table while Annie runs to “get a surprise” from upstairs. James pulls Mark’s cake out of the fridge, along with numbered candles, a two and a one. The cake is a red velvet from Mark’s favorite bakery with pale blue frosting—James said he realized only after it was going to look like the American flag, but that he was more focused on getting a flavor Mark liked and his favorite color.

“It’s fine, man,” Mark says, grinning. “Thank you anyway.”

“Here, open this first,” Annie says. “Your friends will be here any minute, and I think they’ll want to participate in singing Happy Birthday.”

“This” turns out to be a very pretty hardcover anthology of Edgar Allen Poe’s poetry and short stories. Mark flips through it, genuinely touched. “Thank you,” he says, looking up at them. “This is going in a place of honor on my bookshelf. Can I leave it here tonight?”

“Of course,” Annie says, laughing, accepting it back. 

“We were originally looking at some nice first-edition books,” James says. “You know, like those rare ones. But they require special care and storage, which I don’t think you have access to quite yet.”

“Yeah, I appreciate the thought but I’m glad you didn’t,” Mark says fervently. “I think the responsibility would’ve given me a heart attack.”

Just then the doorbell rings, and when Mark answers it, Johnny, Yuta, and Ten are waiting. “Just in time for cake,” he says with a grin, leading them inside.

The candles are still lying haphazardly on the table next to the cake. “You’re turning twelve?” Johnny asks sarcastically.

 “Dude,” Mark says, rolling his eyes over Yuta’s shoulder as he’s squeezed into a hug.

James puts the candles on the cake (in the correct order) and then lights them while Annie flicks off the lights. They all sing Happy Birthday, with Ten egging Lucy into doing some silly additions at the end, and then Mark blows out the candles and the lights come back on so they can slice out the cake.

“So where are you guys off to tonight?” Annie asks.

“Top secret,” Johnny replies. “But we promise we’ll get him home safe.”

Mark kinda feels like a little kid all of a sudden. He forgets sometimes that Johnny and Yuta and Ten are all around James’ and Annie’s age despite the fact that they’re Mark’s friends. He takes a bite of cake. He thinks maybe he’s always going to be in a hurry to grow up.

The cake is eaten, and Lucy’s getting tired, and the bus is coming soon anyway, so they head out without too much more fanfare. The sun is working on setting, so the air is cooling but still hot. Yuta slings an arm over Mark’s shoulders as they make their way down the sidewalk. “Ready for your big night?”

“I’m getting more and more terrified by the minute,” Mark replies, which makes the other three laugh. 

“We’re just taking you out to our favorite bars,” Johnny reassures him, though his grin still seems a little too wild. “We’ve just never really seen you out and about! It’s different from those little college parties we go to.”

“I’ve been out drinking before,” Mark grumbles, but he knows going to the bar for a drink with James on his nineteenth birthday in Vancouver is not the same as going out clubbing here, now.

“You have your passport, right?” Ten asks.

“Yep,” Mark says, patting his pocket. “Which I’m sure isn’t going to score me any points.”

“Maybe it’ll make you look exotic,” Johnny says.

“Or just like a fuckin’ loser,” Mark grumbles. “You all have your licenses.”

“Well, you can fix that anytime, honey,” Ten points out, and Mark just gives a groan of defeat.

They pile onto the bus, collapsing into the four-across sideways seats that are elevated over the center of the first section, Mark on one end with Johnny next to him. While those two chat, Johnny ducks his head and asks, real quiet, “How are things with the DILF?”

Mark jabs him with his elbow; Johnny doesn’t react. “They’re fine,” he hisses. “He hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “You seeing him this weekend?”

“I told him maybe tomorrow, if I don’t feel like shit,” Mark replies. “So don’t try to get me wasted. Now shut up, if those two find out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Johnny actually listens to him for once, and the rest of the bus ride is peaceful. Ten pulls the stop wire, and they get off on a busy street. Mark doesn’t see their destination at first, but finally zones in on an unassuming bar down the street.

Yuta notices the look on his face. “We’re starting you off easy,” he explains. “Can’t expect you not to bolt if we just threw you right into one of those gay clubs where everyone is naked.”

“We’re going to a gay club where everyone is naked?” Mark asks, looking down at his shorts and t-shirt combo.

“They have a coat check,” Ten says cheerfully. “And I brought something for you.” He points at the fanny pack that Johnny has clipped across his chest.

Mark doesn’t know if he likes the sound of that, especially not if it can fit in there, but he has to admit a small part of him is excited, too. Maybe with a few drinks running through his system, the excitement will win out. 

This bar, though, is busy but not crowded, well-lit enough that Mark can see where he’s going, and casual. They order a round—beer for Johnny, mixed drinks for the rest—and sip on them. Mark looks around the bar, seeing couples, groups of friends, the occasional loner. He wonders if Jaehyun has been to this bar. It’s a little under his general lifestyle now, but when he first came to Seattle, he was poor, and could’ve easily ended up here. The bar definitely looks old enough, far more than that. He’s not sure those sprinklers are up to code.

Mark gives himself a shake. However ominous his friends’ plans seem, he’s here to have fun with them. He can’t do that if he’s letting the ghost of Jaehyun’s younger self haunt him up and down the streets. He takes a long pull of his drink, earning himself a cheer from Ten. 

The next bar they go to is a little more upbeat, but there’s not a dance floor, so Mark guesses their plan is to get him pretty drunk before entering an actual club. That’s fine. He slams back another mixed drink and finishes Johnny’s beer when he decides he doesn’t like that one and goes to get another. By the time they leave their third bar, Mark’s definitely solidly buzzed, whatever padding he had from dinner gone. 

Good timing, too—the next place is a club, and they get carded at the door, pay a cover fee, and get their hands stamped before being allowed in. Ten drags him to the bar, where he is apparently recognized. Over the pounding music, he points at Mark and shouts something about it being his twenty-first birthday. 

In an instant, tequila shots are poured for all of them and a lime wedge is shoved into one of Mark’s hands while a small pile of salt is collecting on the back of his other one. Mark screws his eyes shut, licks up the salt, and takes the shot, chasing it quickly with the lime so he can convince his taste buds that everything is fine. 

“An extra one for the birthday boy,” the bartender says with an easy smile, passing Mark something else, which he balks at.

“Don’t be a baby, it’s a green tea shot, it’s yummy,” Ten goads, and, fuck, Mark’s being offered free drinks, and he’s always been a sucker for peer pressure, so he throws that one back, too. As soon as the glass is back on the counter, Ten is chirping a thank-you to the bartender, saying something about getting Mark laid tonight, and dragging him out to the dance floor.

“Ten, I’m not going home with anybody. Or bringing anybody home,” he shouts as they push through the crowd. 

“Oh-kay,” Ten singsongs, turning when he finds an open spot at pulling Mark close to dance. Johnny and Yuta appear on either side, so Mark is trapped. “But you can at least have a little fun. Dance with someone. Kiss someone! It’s your birthday!”

The only person Mark really wants to be kissing is Jaehyun. Jaehyun. It’s not like they’re exclusive. They’ve never even tried to discuss what they are. Jaehyun’s never made any indication that he’d mind, but… as far as Mark knows, he’s the only person in Jaehyun’s life right now. So it feels a little unfair.

He extricates himself from Ten’s hands. “Promise I’m not running away,” he says when he gets some concerned looks. “I just have to piss.”

He weaves his way out of the crowd and finds the bathroom. It’s dinky and gross, but whatever. He locks himself in a stall in case one of his friends follows him in, and then opens his text thread with Jaehyun.

hey, this is bad timing but I’m out with my friends like I said and I guess I never thought to ask if you’re cool with me like dancing with other guys and stuff? <;<<

I know it’s not like we’re actually dating or whatever but I thought I should ask <;<<

Jaehyun’s response comes pretty quick.

>>> Don’t worry about me baby

>>> It’s your birthday. Have some fun!

Mark chews his lip, looking over the message. Somehow, it’s not what he wanted to hear. He wanted… he wanted Jaehyun to say no. He wanted Jaehyun to say he was his, and no one else’s. But, he reminds himself with a pang in his chest, they don’t belong to each other. 

okay, if you say so! <;<<

I’m not sleeping with anybody else though. Promise. <;<<

He can practically hear Jaehyun’s soft laughter in the next reply.

>>> You don’t have to promise that

>>> But okay :) have a good night and stay safe! call me if you need anything

Thanks <;<<

It makes Mark feel worse, honestly. He pockets his phone and goes to wash his hand so he doesn’t look like a weirdo, and then heads back out to the dance floor to find his friends. What did you expect, dumbass? he berates himself as he excuse me, sorrys his way through the crowd. Of course he doesn’t mind. You’re just fucking. There’s no reason for him to be possessive or emotional about it. So neither should you.

By the time he spots Johnny’s head over the sea of people, he’s resolved to forget all about Jaehyun tonight. Fine, if Jaehyun doesn’t care who he kisses or who he fucks, then Mark won’t turn anyone down tonight. He’ll prove to Jaehyun (and himself) that there are other people out there for him, and that he’s just feeling a little attached because Jaehyun’s the only person he’s fucked in the last year or so. Not because it’s real. 

“Thought you really had run out on us,” Yuta shouts with a grin when Mark joins them. 

“Nah, I just couldn’t figure out the drawstring on these!” Mark shouts back. “My fingers don’t work when I’m drunk!”

Not too long after, some pretty boy comes up and asks Mark to dance with him. Mark accepts, peeling away from his group a little so they can have some privacy. Mark doesn’t catch his name but pretends he hears him after he repeats himself for the second time.

“I saw you guys chatting with the bartender!” The guy shouts. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“No, it’s my friend that knows him,” Mark replies. “I haven’t been before.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“It’s my twenty-first birthday,” Mark explains.

“Oh,” the guy says with a smile. He leans in closer. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Mark says, leaning in, too, and kisses him. 

And it’s fine. Good, even. But he’s still thinking of Jaehyun when they pull away, and with that comes a sort of sobering disappointment. Mark tries to brush it aside. One kiss isn’t going to fix you, he thinks. You have to keep going.

“What?” The guy looks a little confused, and Mark realizes he’s kind of just been looking at him.

“Nothing,” Mark says. “D’you wanna go get another drink?”

The night kind of blurs from there. Mark doesn’t black out, per se, but he definitely loses track of time and becomes quite malleable. He lets his friends whisk him on to the next club, and the next, dancing with strangers and making out with a fair number, too. It gets a little better, but nothing sparks in his stomach the way he’s kind of hoping it does.

They reach the club Ten was talking about. He strips to booty shorts and a fucking hot pink bikini top, because of course he does, and shoves a black crop top and matching shorts into Mark’s hands. It’s not atrocious, so Mark changes, since he doesn’t fit in here in his own clothes. Yuta’s literally wearing a jockstrap and a tiny leather vest, which Mark is honestly kind of impressed by. Johnny, on the other hand, simply takes off his shirt to reveal a harness across his chest and back.

“What the fuck?” Mark asks, and Johnny just grins and saunters off to coat check.

The lighting is dark blue-purple and sexy, and everyone is just as naked as Mark and his friends, so he quickly loses his self-consciousness. Besides, Mark knows he’s hot, and this is confirmed by the number of people that put their hands on him in the span of the next half an hour or so, offering to buy him more drinks. He lets himself get lost in it, giving out kisses freely, even guiding the hands lower when he likes the person they’re attached to.

But even through the weird lust-haze and alcohol, Mark still feels kind of empty. Not in a bad, hollow way, necessarily, just a little lonely. This is fun, and these guys are hot. But they’re not Jaehyun. 

Finally, when Mark nearly trips over himself on the way to the bathroom, Johnny calls it a night. He retrieves their clothes and they gather in the bathroom to get changed before figuring out how they’re getting home. 

Mark is a short bus ride away, so Johnny offers to come with him to make sure he makes it home while Ten and Yuta try to figure out Ubers. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” Ten asks, slurring a little. “You had fun?”

Mark can honestly say that he did, despite his inner turmoil, so he nods. “Yeah, Tennie,” he says, trying and failing to get Ten’s face to focus. “I had fun.”

Ten gives him a happy kiss on the forehead before they head outside. Yuta takes Mark by the elbow so he doesn’t trip on the stairs, and then they’re out in the cool night air. Johnny and Mark wave goodbye to the other two and hurry down to the nearest bus stop.

“You weren’t lying to Ten?” Johnny asks. “You really had fun?”

“Yeah,” Mark says earnestly, or at least as earnestly he can when he’s not really sure what his own voice sounds like. “I think ‘m the right amount of drunk. Wouldn’t do it every weekend, but I get the appeal.”

Johnny grins, ushering him onto the bus and into a seat. “Think your DILF will mind?”

This sobers Mark somewhat. “I know he doesn’t,” he says.

Johnny blinks, surprised. “You okay?”

“I texted him to ask,” Mark explains. “If he would mind. And he just… told me to have fun.”

“That’s good, right?” Johnny asks, now thoroughly perplexed.

“I guess,” Mark mumbles. “I just—I dunno. Thought maybe he would care more.”

“Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings,” Johnny says.

“No,” Mark refutes quickly, then shakes his head. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“It’s not gonna end well, man.” Johnny’s voice has gentled, and Mark thinks that might break him. “Hey. Look at me.” Mark peeks up miserably. “You, Mark Lee, are young and hot and cool, and you can do way better than some random middle-aged guy. No matter how good of a fuck he is. Or how much money he has. Okay?”

Mark sighs and nods. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Johnny reaches up for the stop wire. “Want me to stay the night? Keep an eye on you?”

Mark shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m not that drunk. Mostly just tired. I don’t think I’m even gonna puke.”

“Good.” Johnny leads him outside and walks him down the street to his building, all the way up to the front door. “Then have a good night.” He opens his arms for a hug and Mark accepts. “And happy birthday, man.”

“Not my birthday anymore, it’s like three a.m.,” Mark argues into Johnny’s chest. Johnny laughs.

When Mark gets up to his room, he immediately just strips and heads into the shower to get the layer of everyone else’s sweat off his skin. As the water’s heating, he unlocks his phone and finds it still open to his texts with Jaehyun.

I miss you <;<<

wish it was you tonight instead <;<<

He’ll probably regret it in the morning, but right now he’s too drunk and tired to care. He sets his phone on the counter and steps into the steaming shower. 

When he gets out, a single text is waiting for him.

>>> Go to bed, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow

Mark leaves his phone there, the text unanswered, flicks off the lights, and collapses naked into bed. Despite the spins that threaten to overtake him, he’s asleep within minutes.

///

Mark wakes with a dry mouth, a pounding headache, and the dull but insistent push of nausea in the back of his throat. He rolls out of bed with a groan and shuffled into the bathroom to gag into his toilet. Most of what comes up is burning liquid, and once he’s done, he does feel better, though the headache persists. 

He lets himself rest on the floor by the toilet for a few minutes before getting up to swish with mouthwash, since brushing his teeth is going to require hand-eye coordination that he currently does not possess. He checks his phone, which is cheerily displaying the ungodly time of 7:13 a.m., and doesn’t see any new texts.

Mouth sufficiently washed, Mark slaps around the medicine cabinet for some Advil and takes two of those with a handful of water right out of the tap, then drags himself back to bed. He crawls under the covers and knocks right back out. 

The next time he wakes up, it’s to a significantly weaker headache, no nausea, and full body aches. He lies there, weighing the merits of just dying right here and decomposing, but ultimately decides against it because Chenle’s parents don’t deserve to clean up that kind of mess. He scoots out of bed, uses the bathroom, and checks his phone while he actually brushes his teeth. 

He reads over his texts with Jaehyun last night and groans. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks, rinsing out his mouth and cleaning his toothbrush. He takes a couple more Advil and then decides he should probably get some food in his stomach while he considers what to say. 

sorry about that ^ haha 😅 <;<<

about all of it really <;<<

It takes Jaehyun the time it takes for Mark’s bread to toast to reply. 

>>> All good! How’s the hangover?

>>> Think you could meet me for brunch?

Mark munches on his plain toast, contemplating. 

hangover was worse this morning, I’m better now <;<<

but yeah give me like an hour or two <;<<

>>> Okay, see you at noon!

Mark gets himself a glass of water and then flops down on his couch, taking sips of the water and small, tentative bites of his bread. It settles his stomach even more. Maybe he’ll actually get to enjoy brunch.

After letting his body adjust to being awake for a bit, he finally gets up and gets himself ready. Takes a quick shower to get the vomit-sweat off. Brushes his teeth again. Tries to style his hair. Gets dressed in something he hopes is brunch appropriate. By the time Jaehyun texts to say he’s outside, Mark almost feels like a person again.

“Hey, baby,” Jaehyun says with a sympathetic grin. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a semi and also poisoned,” Mark replies, dropping into the passenger seat. “Mostly fine, though.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Good twenty-first?”

“Could say that,” Mark replies, thinking of all the boys he kissed. He wants to tell Jaehyun about it. He wants to say I met so many people last night and they were all great but they weren’t you. He wants to say why didn’t you care who I was kissing? Why don’t I matter to you? He wants to say is it allowed that I let you matter to me? “Where are we going?” he asks instead. 

“One of my favorite brunch spots,” Jaehyun says. “I made a reservation last week, figured it might be around this time. It’s casual but popular.”

Maybe Jaehyun cares more than Mark gives him credit for. He made a reservation last week. Clearly, he’s been thinking about it. “Sounds good,” he says genuinely. 

The restaurant is, in fact, crowded, with a long line of people waiting to put their names down. They’re taken to a small table near the back and left alone. Mark’s not sure he should go for anything partially cooked, or anything overly sweet, so he settles on a small plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with potatoes, and stresses to their server that the eggs be well-cooked. Jaehyun laughs at him over the rim of his water glass.

“I remember my twenty-first birthday,” Jaehyun says, grinning. “I was in much worse shape than you the next day, so good job.”

“What did you do?” Mark asks, intrigued.

“Well, like you, I was from a place where I could legally drink earlier, so it wasn’t my first time having unrestricted access to alcohol,” Jaehyun says. “But unlike you, I suffered delusions of grandeur and thought I could take on that stupid twenty-one bar challenge.”

“Like, go to twenty-one bars and have a drink at each?” Mark asks, wrinkling his nose when Jaehyun nods sheepishly. “I had maybe like seven or eight drinks last night, and I think that was one or two too many. So did you make it to twenty-one?”

“God, no,” Jaehyun says. “I blacked out at like maybe twelve, and my boyfriend at the time later told me I had a few more after that before promptly vomiting them back up onto the sidewalk. At least we were outside.” 

Mark is struck with the sudden and sharp reminder that Jaehyun has lived a whole life before him. He had boyfriends when he was younger, boyfriends he loved. He’s probably had his heart broken more than once. There’s a clawing hunger in Mark’s chest to know more, to know it all, to peel back all of Jaehyun’s layers until he’s seen every last one, to lave over his most secret parts with his own tongue—and there’s fear, too; fear that he might not like what he finds, and worse, fear that he will like it, fear of his own hunger and what it might mean.

“What were you like?” he asks quietly. “When you were my age? Did you go out with your friends like that often?”

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “No, I was always sort of shy and soft-spoken. I liked going out, but only if people I knew were there and only if I could get home quickly.”

Mark can imagine it. Jaehyun’s face, bright and fresh with youth, skin smooth and free of smile lines. The flush of his cheeks. The same silly laugh. He imagines him in the corner of some bar, arms crossed over his chest with a beer in one hand, tucked against his bicep. Watching his friends quietly. He imagines a red-faced and drunk Jaehyun knocking back shots amid cheering. Stumbling out onto the street and vomiting unceremoniously at his own feet. The pinch of his eyebrows. The sweat on his hairline. Mark’s heart feels like it’s been beat flat with a meat tenderizer. He gives Jaehyun an unsteady smile. “I can’t imagine you any other way,” he says.

“So, anyway, obviously the next morning I was in the worst pain I’d ever been in in my life. I spent well into the afternoon alternating between sipping a little water and going to throw it back up again,” Jaehyun continues as their food arrives. “Thank you. At one point, my friends were considering just taking me to the hospital because I was so dehydrated. I told them to wait until the evening, and I’d go if I wasn’t better by then, because I was so embarrassed and I didn’t want my parents to find out I’d been so stupid.” Jaehyun shakes his head ruefully. “Lucky for me, by around three or four, I was able to keep a cup of water down. I swore up and down I’d never drink again, but… you know how that goes.”

Mark nods, popping a potato in his mouth and making a noise of appreciation. As usual, Jaehyun’s found a great spot. “That’s kind of hilarious,” he says. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun giggles. “I am proud to say that’s the last time I’ve blacked out from drinking, and one of the last times I ever threw up from drinking, so at least I learned my lesson kind of.”

“That is impressive,” Mark says. “I know logically my limit is about six drinks, but somewhere around drink five I get convinced I can do like five more, and it all just goes downhill from there.”

“Did you blackout last night?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“I don’t think so,” Mark says, and then remembers his texts to him and cringes. “I am sorry about those texts from like three a.m. I literally remember thinking, like, I’ll probably hate myself in the morning, and then sending them anyway. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, laughing. “No, I was up late doing some work,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. They definitely could’ve been worse. All you said was that you missed me, which is fair. I’m pretty great.”

Mark groans. “Still, it was kind of pathetic of me,” he mumbles, stabbing at the last of his potatoes.

“Well,” Jaehyun says, chasing a blueberry around his plate with his fork. “You’re young. You’re allowed to be a little stupid. It’s okay, really. I think I’m flattered that I’m the one you’re drunk-texting.”

“Who else would it be?” Mark asks without thinking. 

Jaehyun blinks at him. “I don’t know,” he says evenly. “I don’t know what you do when you’re not with me.”

And you don’t care, Mark thinks bitterly, and then mentally smacks himself for being childish. “Please, I don’t have time for anybody else,” he says, keeping his tone light. “My god, I almost forgot. Me and James called our parents last night so they could wish me a happy birthday, and my mom started interrogating me about who I was dating since James and Annie were, like, already engaged at my age. Most unserious conversation I’ve had in a while.”

Jaehyun gives him a weary smile. “I hope I’m not keeping you from people your age,” he says.

Mark waves him off. “I’m telling you what I told my mom. I can barely deal with my own shit. Dealing with someone else is off the table.” Jaehyun gives him a weird look. “You don’t count, I don’t have to deal with you. You take care of me.”

Jaehyun’s expression morphs back into a smile, this one markedly less weary. “I certainly try,” he says. He nods at Mark’s nearly empty plate. “Ready to head out?” 

Mark nods. Jaehyun pays, and they gather their things and pick their way through the maze of tables towards the door. Mark slips into the passenger seat and Jaehyun starts the car. There’s a natural ease to it that, even though Mark’s weird tumultuous feelings, he finds comforting. 

“I think we would’ve gotten along,” Mark says. “If we were the same age and met in college.”

Jaehyun turns to smile at him, like really smile, dimples popping handsomely. “I think so, too,” he agrees. 

When they get home, shoes kicked off at the entrance and dogs tended to, Jaehyun turns to Mark. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “Wanna nap?”

Mark gives him a look. “If you’re asking if I’m feeling well enough to fuck you, I think you know the answer.”

Jaehyun laughs and kisses him. Mark melts under his touch. It feels perfect. Everything feels so perfect. He doesn’t know exactly what it is except that it’s Jaehyun. He wraps his arms around Jaehyun’s waist and kisses him, their teeth knocking in his eagerness. 

“You okay?” Jaehyun whispers when they separate.

“Just,” Mark says, but doesn’t know how to continue. How’s he supposed to explain without revealing himself? When it’s clear Jaehyun doesn’t, and won’t, feel the same way? “I know those texts last night were, like, cringey and dumb, but I really did miss you.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Jaehyun says. “C’mon.”

They head up to Jaehyun’s room, where the early afternoon sun is lighting up the space. His sheets are white today, and practically blinding. Jaehyun shuts the door behind them and heads over to the window to lower the blinds a little so they don’t get sun directly in their eyes. Mark watches him, that same terrible tenderness still holding onto his heart. All he can do is keep imagining Jaehyun younger, next to a faceless boyfriend, someone who had Jaehyun, really had him, and lost him anyway. There’s some bitter jealousy there, but also a strange kinship. Mark will join the ranks of Jaehyun’s unknowable past lovers, the way Jaehyun will join Mark’s. One day he’ll be a memory, a ghost that Mark’s future partner might never even find out about. He thinks again of a life he’ll have in that future, one that might look something like this. Lazy Saturday afternoon sex, post-brunch, in a sun-warmed bed.

Except this time in his vision, Mark’s potential future partner has a face. It doesn’t happen on purpose. He doesn’t mean to imagine it this way. But in his head, it’s the younger version of Jaehyun, smiling at him with those dimpled cheeks from across the mattress. His is the body waking up beside Mark’s, working beside him, building a life, slow but sure. One pancake at a time. 

Tears sting behind Mark’s eyes before he realizes what’s happening. Because that can never come true. As much as Mark might want it, Jaehyun’s not going to be able to wait around for him to grow up and finally be ready to settle down. By then, Jaehyun might already be well on his way to his fifties. And that’s if Jaehyun even wants him in the first place, which he doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun’s suddenly in front of him, tilting Mark’s face up and searching his eyes.

“Nothing,” Mark manages, blinking rapidly and willing the tears away. “It’s just super bright in here. Hurts my eyes.”

“I can put the blind down all the way,” Jaehyun says, accepting this easily.

Mark shakes his head, leaning into Jaehyun, hooking his chin over Jaehyun’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his middle. “No, this is perfect,” he says. 

“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees.

They pull each other’s clothes off slow and gentle, pausing to kiss over the freshly exposed skin before continuing. Jaehyun guides them to his bed, and they settle atop the soft duvet. Mark preps him blindly, not wanting to pull away from his mouth. When he finally fucks him, it’s quiet, sweet, sensual. None of their usual roughness and quick, panting breaths. There’s something different underneath, too. Mark’s put it to the test, and he’s still choosing Jaehyun. And Jaehyun, despite all the warning signs, seems to be letting him. Something blooms in Mark’s chest, but something withers, too. He pets Jaehyun’s baby-soft hair and kisses him and tries not to imagine what his life would be if this was every day. 

But even though he knows it’s impossible, some small part of him insists. Why not Jaehyun? If things were different, couldn’t it be him?

But they’re not different, he reminds himself firmly, swallowing one of Jaehyun’s soft moans when he rolls his hips up just right. This is what you have. This is it. It will have to be enough.

“Where’d you go, baby?” Jaehyun whispers. “You seem far away.”

Mark shakes his head, both to refute Jaehyun’s statement and to clear his mind. “I’m right here,” he insists. And he forces it to be true. He focuses on the feeling of Jaehyun’s skin on his, the unsteady pattern of Jaehyun’s breath, the tightening of Jaehyun around him. The sun on his back, warm and comforting.

He comes first, but he can hardly feel it. 

[urdamage]

eilonwy hands noah an envelope ; the birthday card inside of it is thick , a sign of its good quality . she’s chosen it specifically from cupid’s , having stood at the birthday card section for more than ten minutes in order to choose the nicest one that resembles her friend as best as a card can . the card is a soft yellow , and the front is covered in playful illustrations of flowers , all with friendly faces smiling upwards to the ‘ happy birthday ’ written in bubble writing . inside of it , she’s written her birthday message in soft , beautiful , legible cursive handwriting . the message reads ;

“ dear noah, 

every single day i am reminded of how blessed i am to have you in my life.  i could never have asked for a better friend, a better brother.  i hope your twenty-sixth year is filled with love and joy and all of the beautiful things you deserve to have in life.  here’s to the rest of our lives spent together as the best of friends. i love you!

love always, lonnie. ” 

the card jupiter hands noah isn’t a traditional birthday card , but instead , one single piece of unfolded card containing an illustration on the front and a plain white back . instead of writing on the back of the card , jupiter has written his birthday message to noah on a piece of lined paper , which is neatly taped to the back . upon further inspection , and upon flipping the page over , the fact that both sides of the page have been covered in writing can be found . the message is written in handwriting that is scribbly and small , yet legible at the same time . the message reads ;

“ my dearest noah, 

i wholeheartedly believe that the universe had a plan when it brought us together. i could write pages and pages on how i believe you deserve better than all of the cards that the universe has dealt you, but i could write even more about how i believe that the universe has given me more than i deserve by leading me to you. i won’t.  when i turned twenty-six, i was just beginning to feel like i belonged here in shrike. angel had just started to let me perform to the sparse mid-day crowd, i found comfort in no longer running and chasing whatever mystery tickled my interest that month, and i started to feel at home in my apartment - broken lift and all. the view of the night sky from the balcony truly is amazing, almost as beautiful as the one that you helped me create in the safety of my room. i know that we don’t live in the same old shrike anymore. regardless. all i can do is hope that in your twenty-sixth year, you feel the same kind of belonging and the same kind of comfort that i found here.  after all that you’ve done for me, both before and after everything that we’ve been through, all i can ask for is that the stars guide you in the right direction so that you can find peace and love and happiness and fulfilment and everything else you could ever want.  and because i know some people don’t believe in that kind of stuff, in the universe having any sort of power over any of us (mum and dad always said i was silly for believing) i’ll also be by your side helping that become a reality in whatever way that i can.  you shine brighter than my favourite star.  happy birthday - suppose i should have written that sooner.

yours, jupiter. ”

✧ eilonwy finch moodboard 06/?? ✧ jupiter bernstein moodboard 08/?? ✧ featuring noah cohen ( @noahcohen​ ).

[imnotviciousreally]

May I ask what was so bonkers about your first rpf experience? Was it the fandom or the storyline itself?

Oooh boy (mild trigger warning for some discussion of rape)

I feel the need to say that I don’t necessarily think that this experience is indicative of all RPF or the people who write it. This is genuinely just my first real life experience of RPF.

TL;DR a girl I knew in real life wrote a self-insert One Direction fic and wrote one of my real life close friends into said fic in a stalker/rapist storyline.

This whole story begins when I was sixteen years old, and was in art class (for context, I’m twenty seven now, so this is over ten years ago). Now the girl who sat next to me in that class and I were not friends, but we did have some mutual friends, so we talked a little bit in between doing our work, and she was very eager to bring up and discuss this fanfiction that she was in the process of writing.

The fanficiton in question was a self-insert One Direction RPF fic, in which she dates one of the 1D boys (I won’t say which one, other than to say that it wasn’t Zayn, because as I later found out, this girl was low-key very Islamophobic, and did not like Zayn, even making him a lesser antagonist in the fic as the story went on).

This kind of fic is obviously very common, self-insert and self-shipping isn’t that unusual in some fandoms, but one thing that made this situation a little more questionable was the fact that this girl was shipping not only herself with one of the 1D boys, but all of her closest friends as well, and that she was using their full legal names in the story, details about their lives (such as their birthdays, the names of their family members, their pets, the town they lived in, and personal details about real events that had happened in their lives) as well as including real photographs and selfies of them which were embedded into the text, and which she had copied and pasted from their real Facebook pages. Some of her friends were aware of this, but not all of them, and I know for a fact that one of her friends later found out that her real name, town she lived in and photographs of herself had been included in this fanfiction, and specifically asked to be taken out of the fic.

This is where the story gets wild. In addition to having a crush on one of the 1D boys, this girl also had a crush on one of my really good friends. This guy was also in our art class, and he was and is genuinely one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and an extremely talented artist (he actually went on to study art at university). She was pretty open about her crush on him, and asked him out a few times, however this guy already had a girlfriend of two years, and wasn’t interested.

Now, I don’t know what her thinking was here, since she pretty openly talked about this fic to people. But, I guess as revenge, she wrote this guy (my friend) into her fic as well (mercifully no photographs this time, but still including his full name and details of his life), characterising him as her self-inserts obsessive stalker ex-boyfriend. At this point the fic got totally derailed from a story where she dates one of the 1D boys, to a kidnapping story, in which the guy (my friend) kidnaps and keeps the main character locked up in his basement, torturing and raping her for weeks, until the 1D boys are able to rescue her.

Now my friend was at first unaware of the way in which his identity had been used in this self-insert 1D RPF fic, however, like I said, this girl and I weren’t even friends, and she openly spoke to me about this fic and encouraged me to read and leave reviews on it, and I know that she told multiple other people to do the same thing, so the fact that she’d used the names and likeness of all of her friends in the fic, as well as the real name of a guy she had a crush on and wrote him into the fic as an stalker and a rapist quickly became widely known public knowledge. Many of our schoolmates were aware of the situation and thought it was an extremely shitty thing for her to do. It was extremely embarrassing for my friend, who already had social anxiety, and made coming into school even harder for him. It was also extremely embarrassing for all of the friends who had been included in this fic (some without their knowledge) and I know that she lost multiple friends over this incident.

None the less, she continued to write this fic, I think it ended up having around 90 chapters. It’s still online (I’m not going to link it, for what I hope are obvious reasons), the fic took a pretty abrupt turn back into normality after that, where she marries and has kids with the 1D boy, notably featuring Zayn as an antagonist force who is jealous because he’s also in love with the self-insert in a very aggressive way, that relies pretty heavily on negative stereotypes about Muslim men. The identities of at least one of the real life friends she had was permanently removed from the fic, and I think she also went back and took out some of the personal details of the other friends (not their real life selfies or full legal names though).

And that is the bonkers story of my friend RPF experience.

[landosfishbowl]

BUG BITES

I was a child when I fell of my bike – as many children do. You’d think it’d be a funny memory to have, but I’m not as fond of that memory as some may think. That crash killed me. I was only ten years old. I told my mom I’d be back in fifteen minutes, is was “gonna try out my new bike” that I had got for my birthday. It was the nicest bike that I could’ve gotten at that time. It had strong frame, some grippy tires, technically advance shocks, and it was blue! It had all the gimmicks of something could jump across the mountains. I was so excited that I took to the roads without thinking twice. The bike was amazing. I hadn’t been that happy as a kid since I got my first knife from my grandpa. That was a nice day –

I was nine years old, it was a damp summer’s day. I was dropped off at my grandparents house for the day. My mom had jury duty and I wasn’t able to go. I stood on the porch with my grandma as my mom drove away. It was only a few seconds, but I already missed my mom. I think my grandma felt my youthful angst, so she knelt down and said, “Hey Buzz…” Buzz was my nickname from my grandparents who had bees, and a special someone thought they could pet the bees by ‘blending in’ and making a buzz sound – nicknames always come from someplace humiliating. Anyway,

“… how about you go help your grandpa out. He’s cleaning up the garden and could use some help, especially from a big strong boy like you!”

“I am a strong boy!” I said. Now distracted, I ran as fast as I could to my grandpa. I turned the corner of the house, and there was my grandpa by a somewhat messy garden. “Grandpa!” I shouted.

“Buzz, my grandson, how are you?” he said with his slight southern Mexican accent.

I completely ignored his question and when straight to the point: “I’m here to help!”

My grandpa just smiled and understood. “Well, I got a lot of weeds and old plants that need trimming, could you help me with that?”

I nodded yes.

“Perfect! You could start over there by pulling the weeds for me. You’ll need some gloves so you don’t get poked.” grandpa threw me a pair of gloves, then smiled. “Alright, get to work! We got till lunch!”

I laughed – felt important. I ran over to the other side of the garden and got to work. I started pulling some small dandelions, then after some time, onto the bigger ones. I found a huge poky weed, I had my gloves so I knew it would hurt. But right as I was grabbing the big weed, I felt a burning, itching feeling on my arm. Then with a wave of horror, I saw a spider scuddling away from the root of the weed. I began to scream my little lungs out. I ran over to my grandpa and continued to explain to him how I thought I was dying. “I’M GONNA DIE! I WAS BIT BY A SPIDER! MY ARM! I – I’M SCARED!” My grandpa got down to my level and grabbed my arm and took a quick look, looked at me:

“Uh oh… this looks bad.” bad decision, I started screaming so hard it wasn’t even loud. “Hey hey! I’m just kiddin’! Look Buzz…” grandpa pointed at my arm. A couple fire ants were crawling on my arm. “… It wasn’t a spider, only a couple of grumpy ants. You probably didn’t feel them crawling up your arm because of those gloves I bet.” my grandpa was diffidently holding back some well deserved laughs. “You’re going to be just fine.”

My grandma poked her head out from the back porch, “Everything okay?”

“Yup, just some pesky ants. Buzz took it like a champ, he’s a strong boy,” my grandpa said as he patted my head. I guess the wiping of tears told my grandpa that it was time for a distraction. He reached into his back pocket and said, “Hey, Buzz…” I looked up at him, “… I got a surprise for you, put your hand out.” still in shock, but with the taunting of a possible gift, I put my hands out. My grandpa put his folding pocket knife in the palms of my hands. I didn’t know what it was at first, until my grandpa took it, then opened it, “I think you’re old enough for this now. You have to be careful with this, but you’re a big boy, I think you can handle it.” he put the knife back into my hand, and I smiled. I felt just like one of the big boys. “How about you use that to cut down some of those old plants for me? I think that knife will work great in the hands of samurai master.” my grandpa smirked.

Without a moment to think twice, and a sniffle, I cheered up and said, “Okay!” and I imminently went to work. I’m strong, my grandpa said so.

I was pedaling extra fast, just to test all the gears on my new bike. I could feel the chilled wind on my whole body – it felt like I was Lightning McQueen. I was just going around my neighborhood. I past my friend Johnny's house, then I saw the mail-lady, then I pasted my favorite park. The leaves sound like a running river, the car tires on the asphalt roads sound like a warm breeze full, a crow caws. It’s all going too fast. I was hit by a car. Nobody saw it coming. I saw dark before anything I could even feel the pain. Crazy how life can catch up to me when I was at my fastest. I saw my young body lifeless just in front of the car. I was bloody. I honestly don’t feel any way, I was just done, floating away from where I once was. I wont be home tonight, but at least I felt happy. I know I was strong. In someway.

[helloalycia]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐑 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] // 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: when you accidentally catch Lucy Gray upset, learning that her boyfriend has cheated on her, you're left to make sure she's okay, and thus a proper friendship forms.

warning/s: mentions of cheating.

author's note: here’s the first part of three for a lucy gray imagine i wrote, as i watched the new hunger games last week and now im suddenly 14 again lol. Also working on a katniss one bc why not, so yeah, hope someone likes it 😂

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

"You look very pretty, Y/N," my little sister, Y/S/N, said with a smile as I pulled my bag across my shoulders.

I smiled down at her, heart warming at the way she looked up at me. She was only ten years old, but to be someone she looked up to was a responsibility I took seriously, so when she was the one to compliment me rather than the other way around, it was sweet.

"Thanks, Y/S/N," I said, squeezing her shoulder gently. "I appreciate that. You think the guests will like it?"

"They'd be silly not to," she told me with confidence, and it made me chuckle.

I worked as a waitress at the Hob in town, usually being able to wear whatever I wanted and opting for something practical over pretty, but today it had been reserved for the reception of some peacekeeper's wedding. Meaning, I had to be on my best behaviour and wear the nicest thing I owned – a sundress in the back of my closet that I rarely touched.

"Come here," I said to Y/S/N, opening my arms, to which she hugged my waist and I squeezed her tight. "I've gotta go now, but I'll be back by dinner. Let mum and dad know, yeah?"

She nodded and I kissed the top of her head before heading out and walking through town to get to the Hob. It was the middle of summer, so I was already building a sweat by the time I arrived, but thankfully my favourite colleague and bartender, Miles, offered me some iced water when he saw me. The only reason we had ice was because it was a peacekeeper's wedding and they wanted the best for their guests, otherwise it would have been lukewarm as usual.

The reception was yet to start, so I spent the next hour and a half cleaning up the place as Miles got the food and drinks ready. Once all the tables were cleaned and set up, guests began to make their way in, and the act of the day, the Covey, soon arrived and made their way onstage to prepare.

The Covey were the only musical geniuses in the district, the best source of entertainment for those who wanted a party to remember. All six of them were extremely talented musicians, each with their own charm. And when they weren't working at the Hob, performing, they were hired to work birthday parties or weddings, such as today.

As I was with Miles, we were essentially colleagues and it was easy to chat to the joyous bunch of them, especially when we shared a dinner break together briefly between their performances whenever I was on shift. Though, admittedly, I'd harboured a small crush on their lead singer, Lucy Gray Baird, for a while now. It wasn't anything major, but it was there.

It began when I saw them performing once a few years ago, before I'd landed a job here as a waitress and was just visiting for lunch. Back then, it was a mere futile crush on a pretty girl I saw onstage. And then as I got older, now seventeen, and got this job, it didn't go away, and I soon realised I was just one of the many admirers of Lucy Gray, nobody special.

Of course, that didn't mean I wasn't an absolute nervous wreck whenever she paid me any attention or spoke to me. She wasn't intentionally flirty, it was just her personality (and she was also in a relationship with her boyfriend, Billy Taupe Clade), but it left me flustered every time.

It was a crush I knew I'd eventually get over. Some day. At some point. Eventually.

But for now, I was stuck, so I learnt to ignore it whenever I could. Of course, at times it was impossible, such as when they were performing some of their songs at the wedding reception today and I happened to glance their way, meeting her eyes for a split second. She was mid-singing, winking playfully at me before working the crowd as usual, and I knew it was part of the performance, yet I still had to breathe out quickly and remember that I was serving a drink.

The reception was easy to work, arguably easier than a regular night at the Hob because everybody was sober and more collected due to it being a wedding reception and not a night out. I was serving food and drinks, replenishing the buffet, cleaning tables, and it wasn't so bad, plus I was getting paid double just to do it.

Halfway through the event, I was standing at the bar, waiting for Miles to make up a tray of drinks, when I felt someone approach me from the left. I was surprised to see Lucy Gray herself, no doubt taking a breather as her family performed onstage meanwhile.

"Don't you look mighty fine this afternoon," she said with a playful smile, looking me up and down as she leaned atop the bar.

I felt my cheeks growing warm as I offered a small smile. "Thanks, Lucy Gray, so do you."

"Why thank you," she answered, smile permanent on her lips as she continued. "You should wear dresses more often. They suit you, darlin'."

I tried not to laugh. "Thanks, but pants are much easier to work in on a busy night. This is a rarity."

Her eyes glimmered with amusement before she glanced out at the stage and the lively crowd dancing along to the music.

"You guys have been doing great today," I complimented, before getting startled by her intense stare. "You– your voice– your–"

She began to laugh at my awkwardness. "I get it. Thank you, that's very sweet of you to say. The Covey are on their best behaviour today." She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice and adding, "After all, if we do good, we get booked again which means more money."

I nodded in agreement. "Cheers to that."

She smiled widely before leaning back again, and I glanced over at Miles to see he was still finishing up with the tray of drinks.

"So, how's your family doin'?" she asked, leaning her chin in the palm of her hand.

"My family?" I asked, tilting my head.

"You have a sister, right? And parents?"

I was surprised she knew to be honest, considering I'd never spoken about them before in the few conversations we'd shared. We usually just spoke about work on our breaks.

"Oh, yeah," I said with a nod. "They're good. Y/S/N is probably playing with her friends right about now. My mum's sewing, no doubt, and my dad will be in the mines. A typical day in the Y/L/N household."

She cracked a smile, before scrunching up her nose. "Your little sister is adorable. She always has the biggest smile on her face whenever I see her around. Always talkin' to everyone, it's sweet. And Maude Ivory always gets a kick out of playin' with her in the park."

I began to smile at her compliments – it was always lovely hearing great things about Y/S/N. "Yeah, she's always been the happy, outgoing Y/L/N and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Hey, the happy, quiet Y/L/N isn't so bad either," she corrected, nudging me in the arm slightly, and the warmth in my cheeks returned as I avoided her stare.

Laughing quietly, she straightened up. "I should head back to the stage. Just wanted to check if you're gonna have your lunch break with us soon? Out back?"

I nodded, recovering from my flustered state. "Sounds like a plan."

"Great!" she exclaimed with a grin. "See you then, cutie."

I continued working and the Covey performed three more songs before we were all allowed to have a quick lunch break. It was timed perfectly for when the bride, groom and guests would make their speeches and none of us were needed.

It was hard not to drool as I made up a quick plate from the food offered, courtesy of the bride and groom. Grilled deer, creamy mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables and gravy were a luxury, a rarity, and I was adamant on savouring every last bit.

Once I joined the others outside, they were all sat in a circle on some crates they'd pulled out, already digging into their dinners. As they mumbled about how great the food was between bites, Barb Azure, their signature bass player, waved me over where she'd saved me a seat between her and Maude Ivory, the youngest of the bunch.

I dug right in with my fork, savouring the flavours and making the most of a good thing whilst I had it.

"Y'know, I heard one of the bride's cousins sayin' she was interested in hiring us for her wedding next month," Tam Amber, their resident mandolin player, commented with a nod. "This gig seems to be paying for itself already."

"Let's not get our hopes up just yet," Barb Azure warned. "We don't know what'll happen."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll get another gig," I assured her, before glancing out at them all. "They'd be crazy not to see what you guys can do. Plus, I've been throwing in a good word with the guests, so it's kind of like really subtle brainwashing."

This earned a few laughs from them and Barb Azure nudged my side playfully.

"How's your job goin' today anyway, Y/N?" she asked considerately, and they all waited for an answer.

"Not too bad," I said with a shrug. "The folk here are a little easier to serve compared to an average night at the Hob. A little more–”

"Civilised?" offered Clerk Carmine, their fiddle player.

I tried not to laugh as I amended, "I was gonna say sober, but sure." They chuckled as I stabbed a piece of carrot with my fork and continued. "It's different, but a job's a job."

"Amen to that," Lucy Gray agreed, and everyone repeated after her lightheartedly.

"So, what are you all doing after this is over?" I asked, before sipping my water.

"Well, Lucy Gray over here is probably gonna go straight over to her beau," Barb Azure teased with a knowing smirk. "Been talkin' all day about how she misses him."

Maude Ivory began making kissing noises, eliciting laughter from everyone else, and I cracked a small smile at how embarrassed Lucy Gray became. Her cheeks were dusting pink as she avoided looking at anyone.

"Billy Taupe, right?" I asked. "Isn't he supposed to be performing with you today?"

"Yeah, he's not been feeling well these past few days," she explained, a shy smile on her lips as she looked at the ground. "Just wanna make sure he's alright."

I nodded, looking down at my plate. "That's sweet. I'm sure he's looking forward to it."

"Are you with anyone, Y/N?" Maude Ivory asked from beside me, smiling in a way that reminded me of Y/S/N.

"I am not," I answered, before smiling a little. "Just haven't found someone I'm interested in is all."

"And what are you interested in?" Lucy Gray asked, earning my attention.

She was watching me from across the huddle, eyes glowing with intrigue and a curious smile on her lips. To say I was suddenly nervous was an understatement, and I let out an awkward laugh as I looked away from her, unable to think straight all of a sudden.

"I, erm, I don't know," I tried to find words. "Someone who's funny, caring, trustworthy... it sounds obvious, the basics, but you'd be surprised how many people aren't those things."

She chuckled in response. "I get that... well, I hope you find that, darlin'. You've got all the time in the world."

I smiled a little, unsure what else to say, and then Tam Amber started talking about what song they could perform next, and the attention was thankfully no longer on me.

It wasn't long after lunch when the event finally ended and the guests began to file out. After saying my goodbyes to the Covey, who must have been exhausted after all their performances, I was left with Miles to clean up the place before we closed. He was sorting through stock in the back as I was finishing the brushing up out front.

I was lost in thought about nothing in particular when I heard someone's footsteps stomping on the wooden floorboards by the door, and when I looked up, I was surprised to see Lucy Gray had returned. When she spotted me too, she stopped abruptly, startled by my presence. It wasn't until she rushed to wipe her cheeks did I realise she had red, teary eyes and a frown on her lips.

"Oh–," she stopped, before clearing her throat, "you're still here."

Unsure what to think or do, I looked around. "Er, yeah, I'm just finishing up." After a moment, I knew I needed to check in. "Are you– what hap–"

"Sorry," she cut me off, avoiding my gaze. "I just forgot my guitar."

We both looked to the stage, where her guitar was peeking out from between the curtains. I hadn't noticed it before.

Not saying another word, she made a beeline for her instrument, and I hesitated, gripping the brush's handle. She was clearly upset about something, but I didn't know her well enough to ask.

Then, as I saw her grab her guitar and sniffle quietly, I knew I couldn't just leave her to it, not without a guilty conscious anyway.

"Lucy Gray, is everything alright?" I called to her, trying to dial down my concern for her sake.

She sucked up a breath before turning around, forcing a smile on her face. "Yes, 'course it is."

I frowned, putting the brush to the side before approaching the stage. "You're upset, Lucy Gray. Did someone do something?"

She attempted a laugh to ease the tension, but it only came out halfhearted and broken, and then another tear rolled down her cheek and my concern was skyrocketing because I'd never seen her like this before.

"You don't have to tell me," I added, "but you're worrying me. This isn't like you."

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, collecting herself, and I wondered what could have possibly happened in the last half an hour between when she left and now. Why was she so upset when she'd walked out of here grinning?

"Billy Taupe wasn't sick," she suddenly said, and it took me a second to process.

"What?"

Was it something worse? Was he dying? Was he in an accident?

"He was cheatin' on me with Mayfair," she said bitterly.

I furrowed my brows, trying to understand. "The mayor's daughter? What?"

She nodded weakly before moving forward to sit on the edge of the stage, shoulders hunched. I blinked, realisation setting in, and wondered how on earth Billy Taupe could do such a thing.

"I caught them kissin' by the market," she said, and I took a seat beside her hesitantly as she continued. "He saw me, and so did she, and then she was smirkin', that no good, dirty–" She stopped herself, though her jaw was clenched. "He tried to explain, but I didn't wanna hear it." She paused, swallowing hard. "I realised I left my guitar here and came back for it."

I was in disbelief, both from the fact that Billy Taupe lied to his family, but also that he cheated on Lucy Gray in the first place. Did he know how lucky he was to have her?

"I'm so sorry you had to witness that," I said, still baffled. "That he did that. You– you don't deserve that at all, Lucy Gray."

She only sighed deeply in response, leaning on her knees and putting her head in her hands with exhaustion. Instinctively, I began to rub circles on her back, hoping it would provide some comfort.

"I wish I could do something," I said quietly, not wanting to upset her anymore than she already was. "I'm so sorry."

And like a switch had been flicked, she began to straighten up, making me drop my hand, and wiped her tears away shyly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be such a mess," she felt the need to apologise, but I shook my head.

"Don't," I assured her, watching her profile as she avoided my eyes. "Really. You don't need to– I'm sorry. I– I don't know what to do or say, I know it's all still fresh. But I'm here for you."

Taking a risk, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, with the intention of giving her a side hug, but then she pulled me closer, hugging me properly. Knowing she needed it and only wanting to put her at ease, I squeezed her gently, letting her know I was there. It was horrible not being able to do much more.

After a moment, she began to pull back slightly and I did too, searching her expression for a hint to how she was feeling. Her brown, glassy eyes met mine, and for the first time since I'd known her, they were anything but playful and teasing. I was touched she was letting me see this side of her, a side not many were privy too, but I wished it wasn't under these circumstances.

"Thank you for that," she said gratefully.

"No worries," I said, sensing she felt a little better, but not completely. "I meant what I said, about being here for you. And I don't really want to leave you alone like this. Do you want me to walk you back home?"

She smiled guiltily, shaking her head. "I can't ask that of you, Y/N."

"It's okay, I want to," I said, before standing up and straightening my dress. "Just give me two minutes to put the brush away and say bye to Miles."

A little relieved, she nodded, and I did just that. With everything going on with her, it was as if the usual nervous, awkward Y/N that always came out when I was around her had disappeared. Now, I just wanted her to be okay.

After saying my farewell to Miles, I grabbed my bag and returned to the front, surprised to still see Lucy Gray sat waiting for me. I was certain she'd have left, using my two minutes as opportunity.

"You ready?" I asked, before noticing her guitar in hand and offering to take it. "Here, I'll get that for you."

"Oh, no, you don't need to–"

"Hey, I don't mind, really," I assured with a smile before taking the handle of the case from her.

She exhaled softly, a small smile tugging at her lips as she nodded, before we left the Hob.

The sun was setting in the sky as we walked through town and to the woods, past the Seam where she and the rest of the Covey lived. Their home wasn't far from my own place, so I didn't mind the trip. It was quiet between us as we walked, the sound of our feet crunching on the gravel the only thing to be heard.

I was worried about her, but I knew she probably appreciated the quiet, so I didn't speak until she did.

"The others don't know yet," she said, voice cracking, as if feeling the need to explain. "I'm gonna tell them."

"I won't say a word," I promised, glancing over at her.

She was fixated on the ground. "Everybody will find out anyway, but yeah."

"They won't find out from me," I said with a nod, and she glanced at me gratefully before staring ahead.

The remainder of the walk was a peaceful quiet, and then we finally reached her home, a small shack that all six of them lived in together. Though, I did wonder how that would change now that Billy Taupe had basically exiled himself.

It wasn't my concern though, so when we stopped outside her front garden, I gave her back her guitar case.

"Thanks again, Y/N," she said appreciatively.

"I'll be here if you ever wanna talk about it, or anything," I told her gently. "I know we aren't super close, but I'll be here."

She smiled a little, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I appreciate that."

I tried not to stare at her too long, but my gaze lingered a little longer than it should have. I couldn't help it – I'd never seen her like this, and it wasn't fair in the slightest.

"Lucy Gray?" I said before she could leave.

"Yeah?"

I paused, wondering whether it was appropriate to say. "You deserved better than him anyway. He was kind of punching with you."

She let out a small laugh, momentarily free of any hurt he'd caused her, and it made the warmth in my chest blossom intensely. I smiled at her once more before leaving her to it, walking back home with a fuzzy feeling inside of me.

It didn't take long for gossip and rumours to spread around the district about Lucy Gray, Billy Taupe and Mayfair Lipp, at least amongst everyone in our age group anyway. By the end of the week, everybody knew about the cheating and Billy Taupe's new relationship.

It couldn't have been easy for Lucy Gray, and I wasn't sure how she'd been doing as I didn't see her until that following weekend at the Hob, but I'd been thinking of her the whole week. When she rocked up with her family, excluding Billy Taupe who I assumed was no longer part of their group anymore, she looked a little better. I wasn't sure how much of it was a facade though, a front for the audience and the gossips.

I was working that evening, serving as usual, but I'd tune in to some of their songs and noticed a few new ones had made the list, namely about Billy Taupe and what he'd done. At least Lucy Gray had channeled her anger into something productive.

Once again, I was at the bar giving Miles an order when Lucy Gray found me on her quick break.

"Hey," she greeted, earning my attention, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hey," I replied. "You're looking good." And then when I realised how forward I sounded, I tried to backtrack, my nerves returning the longer she watched me with her red-painted lips, upturned into a playful smile. "I mean, happy good. Like emotionally, and not upset, but–"

"I get it," she said, unable to stop her amusement from showing. "And thanks. I'm feeling a little better. Thanks again for bein' there."

Relaxing a little, I nodded, glad to hear it. "Anytime."

She quirked a brow as she asked, "So, what did you think of the new songs?"

I smiled. "They were great, Lucy Gray. Just when I thought you couldn't outdo yourself with your lyrics, you prove me wrong."

At this, her eyes lit up. "Gosh, you mean that?"

"Of course," I said like it was obvious, because it was. "Everyone here does. Sorry, did you not hear the applause?"

She was suppressing her smile, unusually embarassed as she looked the other way for a moment, and I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked. It didn't last long though, as her eyes caught something behind me, causing her smile to fade away.

Confused, I glanced over my shoulder to see what she was looking at, only to spot none other than Billy Taupe and Mayfair herself walking in. They didn't notice at first, but then Mayfair met Lucy Gray's stare and proceeded to roll her eyes before tugging Billy Taupe by the arm.

"Just ignore them," I said to Lucy Gray, eyes softening at the flash of hurt crossing her expression.

She clenched her jaw slightly, looking down. "Easier said than done. He's headin' this way."

I furrowed my brows, turning to see, and he approached us alone, Mayfair somewhere ahead and not looking the slightest bit happy that Billy Taupe was talking to his ex.

Lucy Gray kept her eyes locked on the ground as Billy Taupe cleared his throat, merely glancing at me before nodding to her hopefully.

"Lucy Gray, you're lookin' real stunnin' tonight," he tried his luck.

My gaze flickered to her, curious, but she kept her lips shut, saying nothing.

"Really?" he pressed, growing slightly annoyed. "You're gon' stay quiet?"

She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, as uncomfortable as I'd ever seen her, but Billy Taupe didn't care in the slightest.

"C'mon, you can't ignore me forever," he tried again. "I only wanna explain."

Again, she was quiet, and before he could say another word, I decided to give him a suggestion. I usually wouldn't get involved, but Lucy Gray was not comfortable at all and I wasn't just going to watch as he harassed her.

"Maybe you should give it a break tonight," I said as politely as I could to him. "She's clearly not in the mood."

Aside from the annoyed glance he sent my way, it was as if he hadn't acknowledged me at all, instead resorting to calling her name again.

"Billy Taupe," I tried to get his attention, getting a little annoyed myself now.

"Lucy Gray, c'mon," he was continuing to plead, and she was shrinking back the closer he got, only wishing he'd go away.

He suddenly touched her arm, an attempt to get her to look at him, but she snatched it back just as quick.

"Billy Taupe," I repeated with a firm voice, fixing him with a glare, and when he tried to grab her again, I stepped between them, pushing him back slightly. Just enough to earn his attention, and boy, was he unhappy with that.

"Are you deaf?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He sneered at me. "I ain't never seen you around before."

"So, blind, too," I added, making his fists clench. "I'd drop this unless you want to be escorted out."

He tried not to laugh. "And who'll be doing the escorting?"

I raised an eyebrow, before glancing over at Miles behind the bar, who had witnessed the commotion unfold. One hard stare from him was enough to have Billy Taupe straightening up nervously. Mayfair soon appeared from behind him and tugged him away, but not before glaring at Lucy Gray and I.

A hand rested on my arm and I turned around to see Lucy Gray watching me with a knowing look. "Thanks, but you shouldn't have done that. Mayfair already hates me, there's no point in adding you to her list too."

"It doesn't matter. I can't just let someone be a bully," I told her, before glancing over at the retreating figures of Billy Taupe and Mayfair.

Lucy Gray snickered quietly, making me look back to her. "You're cute," she decided, "but stupid."

I wasn't sure what to think of that, nor how to react, but she continued speaking before I could think about it for much longer.

"I should head back onstage now, but see you on break?"

"Sure," I agreed, and she flashed me a smile before returning to the stage.

I watched her go, knowing I was getting too involved and it was definitely going to be a mistake, but I couldn't help it. Even if it wasn't Lucy Gray, I'd still do what I could, unable to stand aside as someone was being mistreated. It was only right. Though, I suppose, it being Lucy Gray also added to my worry a little more.

"She's right y'know," Miles suddenly said, pulling me from thought. He was sliding over a tray of drinks towards me as he continued, "You shouldn't get in Mayfair's bad books. She's got connections."

I sighed, taking the tray. "I know, I know. I won't now, swear."

He suppressed the urge to laugh. "You're in deep, my dear. It's written all over your face."

I didn't even need to ask what he was talking about, and it made my face heat up with embarrassment. Was it that obvious?

The rest of the evening played out and neither Billy Taupe nor Mayfair paid Lucy Gray or the rest of the Covey any mind, thankfully. I wish I could've said the same for myself. Clearly they weren't very fond of me, and it showed by the glares they'd send my way whenever I happened to be serving food or drinks in their vicinity.

I was delivering another tray of drinks to a table near them when Billy Taupe decided it would be funny to 'accidentally' bump into me, knocking the drinks all over and, subsequently, the glasses to the floor in a shatter that was barely heard above the music and audience.

"My bad," he said between stifled laughter, and Mayfair joined in with the laughing, making me roll my eyes. They weren't worth it.

I bent down to pick up the bigger pieces of glass and put them on the tray, knowing I'd need to brush the rest up as soon as possible before someone hurt themselves.

"Hey, what's going on here?" I heard Miles' voice from behind me, and I looked up to see him kneeling beside me. "You alright Y/N?"

"Just peachy," I replied with a forced smile.

"Here, give me that," he said, already taking the tray from my hands. "You go get cleaned up outside."

"You sure? I don't mind–"

"Just go," he said, giving me a look. "Please."

I sighed, nodding gratefully, before getting up and making my way to the back. Grabbing a rag from behind the bar, I went outside and let my shoulders drop tiredly, appreciating the fresh evening air. As I was dabbing the drinks from my shirt, trying my best to get rid of the dampness if not the stain, I knew it was pointless. I still smelt of booze and was inherently sticky.

Letting out another sigh, I leaned back against the wall and took a moment. Okay, so maybe confronting Billy Taupe and his new hotshot girlfriend wasn't ideal, but I couldn't just stand by and let him harass someone. This was a mild inconvenience at most, though terribly gross.

The door behind the Hob opened and I glanced over, expecting Miles, but straightened up when I realised it was Lucy Gray. I was certain she was performing only a moment ago.

"There you are," she spoke before I could open my mouth, and let the door close behind her as she approached me. Her eyes lowered to my shirt with a frown. "I saw what happened from the stage, but had to finish my song. I'm so sorry, Y/N, I never wanted you to get involved. He can be so petty and–"

"You don't need to apologise for him, for either of them," I said calmly. "They are the way they are. It's just annoying, I suppose."

She exhaled softly, before grabbing the rag from my hand and attempting to finish the job of drying my shirt.

"You need to stay away from them," she spoke in a warning tone, eyes flickering between her job at hand and my face, making me forget how to breathe for a moment. "I appreciate your help, that you care, but it ain't worth it. Mayfair has powerful connections and sway with some nasty people. You don't need to be in her sights, not for anyone. Especially not for me."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, making her smile as she met my eyes.

"You don't need to be sorry, just be cautious," she said, expression softening.

It felt strange, her looking out for me when she was the one who had to see her cheating ex again. I stopped her from cleaning me up, taking the rag from her hand, and she looked at me expectantly.

"How are you?" I asked considerately. "With him here?"

"It's hard," she admitted with a nod, "but I got the Covey by my side. I got you."

I began to smile and confirmed, "Right."

She mirrored my smile, before asking, "Are you okay?"

I glanced down at my maroon-coloured shirt, now stained brown, and scrunched up my face. "Bit damp. Bit sticky. But I'll live."

She chuckled. "I think Tam Amber has a spare shirt. He won't mind."

Relieved, I said, "That would be super helpful actually."

She showed me to the place where the Covey hung out between shows, a large wooden shed, though more of a garage for cars nobody owned anymore, opposite the back door of the Hob. The garage doors were chained shut, but a back door was wedged open with a cinder block, and that's where Lucy Gray led me.

I stood to the side as she went searching for the shirt, my eyes flickering around with intrigue. I'd never actually been inside here, only occasionally heard the Covey tuning their instruments before a set or chatting away after one. It was spacious, enough of their belongings scattered around for them to claim the place, though really nobody owned it.

"And here we are," Lucy Gray said, earning my attention. She was holding out a large dusty brown button-up shirt my way. "Might be a little big, but it'll do the job."

I accepted it gratefully, offering a nod. "Thanks, Lucy Gray."

"You can change in here, nobody comes in," she assured me, before flashing me a smile and leaving.

So, I did just that. After replacing my shirt, I looked in the slightly-cracked standing mirror in the corner and tried to make myself look a little more presentable. The shirt was big, no doubt, so I was forced to tuck it into my trousers, though it was apparent to anyone with eyes that it wasn't mine. I rolled up the sleeves and was grateful for it anyway, no longer feeling as sticky or smelly as I did before.

I was trying to fix my collars, which were crumpling under themselves, as I left the shed, only to find Lucy Gray waiting outside for me.

"You're still here," I said with confusion, pausing.

"Hey, you look great!" she said with a bright smile, approaching me.

"You should be performing–"

She waved her hand dismissively, before helping herself to my collars, already attempting to fix them. "They can survive without me for a set. But you look good. Just gonna fix this up."

"Thanks," I managed to get out, feeling a heat crawl up my neck whenever her fingers brushed my skin. I looked anywhere but at her, hating how close she was stood, and said, "You sure Tam Amber won't mind?"

"I'm sure," she promised, before flattening my shirt and stepping back, tilting her head adorably. "All done. C'mon, we should get back to work."

I nodded, and the two of us returned to the Hob. She gave me a final smile before returning to the stage, and I was about to get back to work when I caught Billy Taupe's obnoxious glare from across the room, his eyes flickering between Lucy Gray and I. Ignoring him, I picked up where I left off and began to take some more orders.

[megamindsupremacy]

Billy Batson fic recs

A birthday is just another day by Wolfsbanesparks

Billy had never been in the habit of celebrating his birthdays. He didn’t need the attention or the unnecessary fuss people made of the occasion. In fact when he bothered to remember the date at all it tended to make him more depressed than anything. Like right now for instance, where he felt more like curling up in a ball and blocking out the rest of the world for a while instead of facing his teammates.

—

No one is going to believe you by Oka_hills1232

Captain Marvel enjoys pulling a very specific prank on unsuspecting members of the Justice League once a year, every year.

Cyborg had known Captain Marvel for a few months, and for the most part, he’d really liked the guy. Up until a few hours ago he’d have said the big red cheese was the nicest, most genuine person you’d ever meet--now though, now he’d come to the inevitable conclusion that Marvel was a conniving, devious little gremlin. A sneaky, underhanded trickster. Truely, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. An evil genius hiding in plain sight.

This revelation was set in motion a few years before Victor had joined the league…

—

A firm place to stand by cdelphiki

Clark hasn't known Billy Batson for long, but he does know that Billy is a ten-year-old homeless child, who somehow has been burdened with the powers of the gods. There are so many things wrong with that, but not much Clark could do about it. Except offer Billy a safe place to live and the guidance of an adult who understands. For some reason, Billy says no thanks. Who knew it would be so difficult to convince a kid to stop living on the streets?

or: the Clark adopts Billy au I've wanted to write for years.

—

Baby blues by wolfbanesparks

Harley had never been to Fawcett City in her life, but she had heard that it was basically as different from Gotham as a city could possibly be. Bright. Cheery. Happy. Friendly. Safe.

It was a place where, with any luck, she could ride out her pregnancy in secret and find a proper home for the kid afterwards.

Meeting the resident superhero and befriending the sweet kid from across the hall just made things more interesting.

—

Waffles and bullshit by luminous_lily12

In the aftermath of an alien invasion, Billy calls bullshit when the Justice League rocks up to a diner for dinner in civies.

Honestly. It's just a dumb decision.

—

The world won’t wait until you’re older by Kathkin

Shazam didn’t understand how taxes worked. He always seemed kind of lost when they talked politics. Wally often had the sense that he was nodding along with things he didn’t really understand. He knew what vaping was. Inexplicably he knew what TikTok was. Weird guy.

The Justice League try to adjust to their newest member. They know he's hiding something from them, but in their line of work everyone has secrets. Shazam's no different. Is he?

Or, the Justice League accidentally inducts a child and then deals with the fall-out.

—

The many ages of captain marvel by roses_bloom_in_greenland

How old is Captain Marvel? That's a good question and one that the whole League has.

Bored to death during an uneventful monitor duty, Hal takes it upon himself to get answers--meaning that he straight up asked Captain Marvel.

What shocks him is not the answer, but the fact that there are multiple.

Meanwhile, Billy Batson is just trying to get enough food to survive the winter--and if he has to fuck with the other Leaguers to do it, he will.

—

5 times the justice league met members of the shazamily (and the one time they realized why they hadn’t been introduced) by amanita_cynth

"It all started for Barry when he was overtaken by something bright purple and cackling."

Exactly what it says on the tin- the Justice League realising that there are more magical superheroes out there through a series of bizarre encounters while Captain Marvel avoids answering their questions.

—

For ever is a long time by NaTeO11

There are many people that are immortal.

Billy and Damian are immortal.

And children.

And Damian got a bit enough of Klarion's meddling between them. Having spent 100 years together, he might as well as make a move since the last living brother still stands.

—

The power of the gods by magical_devil_alex

Everyone knew Captain Marvel had the powers of gods, but never in the Justice League's life did they ever think they would come face to face with them.

Or, 6 times the Justice League realized how damn powerful Captain Marvel is, and the one time they found out Billy Batson was even stronger.

—

Immortality is wasted on the young by moralluambiguous

Billy Batson is ten, and next year he's going to be in the sixth grade; Billy Batson's been 10 for a long time, and he's never going to be in the sixth grade

EDIT: ROUND TWO ADDITIONS

Billy batson and the orphan leaguers Christmas party by wanderbird

All in all, by the time the first snows hit, Billy was about as prepared for winter as he thought he could be. Then Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter invited him to the first party he'd been to in years, overturning all of Billy's holiday plans.

Not that Billy minded. His holidays sucked.

-

Statute of limitations by oka_hills1232

Captain Marvel has been in the game for a decade now. He's very likeable, everyone agrees on this, but that's about the only thing anyone can say about him. For however friendly he seems, he's never really talked about his life outside of the cape. That is, until today. The Justice League has just learned something rather alarming about their enigmatic colleague Captain Marvel. They really need to talk to him about it, the problem is, he's very hard to get ahold of… Billy's just here to enjoy himself and revel in the big reveal, after all, it's not like anyone can stop him now.

-

A reason to fight by magical_devil_alex

Billy Batson's last memories consisted of staring into Superman's eyes as his former mentor burned a hole into his skull. After that, there was nothing but horrible darkness and a voice calling out to him, one that continued to get stronger and stronger. Without any warning, he's reborn, awaking in the Rock of Eternity to find out that he never actually died, and the Regime has fallen.

He should be happy knowing that the Insurgency won, that Superman was getting the justice he deserved… but he couldn't be. Something in Billy Batson died, and even now with the help of Shazam, it was never coming back.

In a world trying to get back onto its feet, how could he be apart of it, especially knowing he was part of the reason it fell in the first place?

AKA, I'm salty that Shazam died in Injustice and this is my way of giving the middle finger.

-

Play pretend by electricdazeworld

Basically stuff happens and Billy gets de-transformed, leading the league to think he got de-aged.

Billy ends up just rolling with this and tries to find a way to not be busted for actually being a kid

-

The heart of eternity by kathkin

"What’d you want, mister?”

“I want your life.” There’s a smooth sound of steel on leather as he draws his sword, and Freddy’s throat goes tight. The metal has a sheen to it, like an oil slick. Looking at it turns his stomach in a way he’s never experienced before – not when he’s powered up. There’s a wrongness about it so intense that it takes him half a second to process what the guy had said.

“What?” he says.

“I come to this realm seeking to face the champion in combat. You will fight me, champion – to the death.”

“Yeah, I’m,” Billy says, “not gonna do that.”

When you're the champion, it feels like nothing can hurt you; it feels like you can fly forever. A visitor from another world. A normal night gone off the rails. An adventure turned into a nightmare.

-

I am not a prince by oka_hilld1232

Teth hasn't claimed to be a good person in a long time, but there are certain lines he's not willing to cross--even on his crusade against the Old Wizard--and now he has discovered his mortal enemies greatest secret. The only question now, is what is he going to do about it? Fawcett City is closing ranks, Khandaq is up in arms, the media are losing their minds, the gods themselves are restless, and Captain Marvel isn't saying anything. The Justice League is growing increasingly concerned by their enigmatic friend Captain Marvel and the apparent custody battle he is now embroiled in with his nemisis. Superman and Batman take it upon themselves to investigate, and help if they can. Superman because he's always had a soft spot for the Champion of Magic, and Batman because there has never been a case involving a kid that he hasn't taken very personally. Billy Batson has been independent for years now, and he's not about to let anyone tell him what to do.

-

(obligatory self rec)

Aging

Billy has had a long, long time to come to terms with the realization that he may be aging up, but he will never age out being a hero. It takes him a few decades to figure himself out, nonetheless.

[o-chinelo-da-luisa]

I posted 29 times in 2021

16 posts created (55%)

13 posts reblogged (45%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.8 posts.

I added 2 tags in 2021

#tumblr birthday - 1 posts

#tumblr milestone - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 16 characters

#tumblr milestone

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

That was the day I discovered my two main fetishes

Well...some of my fetishes came to me even before I know what sex was.

First one, I was in a flower shop which belonged to my mom’s friend. I went there every day after school. She was sweet lady, from another generation, a few years older than my mother, strict on values and perfectly able to enforce discipline if she had to.

She watched me until my mom come to pick me up from work. While she worked on the flowers; I stood there doing my homework and then playing around the store. She let me do anything there, except going into the warehouse where the gardening tools and supplies. Between scissors and chemicals that forbidden place was the perfect storm for a ten year old

But you are guessing right… as the forbidden fruit it’s the most desirable, specially for a kid, I couldn’t keep myself out of there.

When I went inside, between all the junk, came close to my attention a pair of garden sandals, beautiful, blue and full of dirt from working the land.It was summer and was too damn hot inside that storage unit. When I got close, started to smell something cheesy… and got stronger as walked through. I realized that odd scent came from her shoes, and don’t know why, I couldn’t get away and it didn’t bothered me. Actually, I liked… so much that I stuck my nose in there

After a while there, she came looking for me and saw me in the shed. She was so angry, like I never seen her before. She rushed inside, yelling “I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME HERE. IT’S DANGEROUS”, as she ended that sentence, she violently grabs and twists my ear, dropped my shorts and my underwear, picked up the sandal and gave the most vicious beating I ever took.

Even though tears crawled over my eyes, she kept going, smacking me, time after time, with that motherly spelling spanking. Honestly I didn’t hear much of what she was spelling, between the sting in my butt and my screams; I wasn’t very focused on the words. She didn’t stop until my knees failed and made me fell on the floor.

Then she picked me up by me ear; she touched my face with the sole of the sandal and said “If you tell anyone next time will be much worse”. But wasn’t already feeling like telling someone about that. I was embarrassed...ashamed, but, at the same time, I never felt so alive.

I didn’t tell anyone, I went there every day, but I made sure my behavior was spanking deserving, because every reason was a damn good reason to be spanked by her.

22 notes • Posted 2021-02-14 21:11:31 GMT

#4

“No, bit*h boi! I’m gonna let the nice officers from the coast guard watch while i spank your bare bottom... maybe after I finish, they want to come aboard and have their way with you”

23 notes • Posted 2021-03-05 21:54:30 GMT

#3

Clever, yeah. So very clever... If you weren’t driving like an assassin, you’d probably have spotted that piece of junk in the middle of the road and wouldn’t have to replace your flat tire. Now that’s another 30k bill for your ‘toy’. If I listened to myself, I’d reach for my shoe and give you the roadside spanking you so richly deserve for risking our lives! But now we’re late for Mum’s lunch. So you had better be the nicest son in law ever wether you want the backside blistering that awaits you ,the second we’re home, gets even worse.

23 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 13:56:08 GMT

#2

#Summerfeet equals tanned ass 👡

28 notes • Posted 2021-07-01 14:57:25 GMT

#1

Slipper(y) when wet!

80 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 11:30:39 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[shirbertshitposts]

10 Shirbert Moments from Anne of Green Gables series I think about a lot

In honor of Valentines Day I thought I would post a list of some of my favorite Anne and Gilbert moments. It was hard to narrow it to just ten as I have been going through all nine books and trying to queue posts about all their iconic moments through the series; However I decided to pick the ones that I remember even when I haven’t read the books in a while. I didn’t have the heart to rank them properly so they’re just listed in chronological order.

1. His future must be worthy of its goddess

In the twilight Anne sauntered down to the Dryad’s Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusky Haunted Wood. She had a sudden realization that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer. And how manly he looked—the tall, frank-faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders. Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad, even though he didn’t look at all like her ideal man. She and Diana had long ago decided what kind of a man they admired and their tastes seemed exactly similar. He must be very tall and distinguished looking, with melancholy, inscrutable eyes, and a melting, sympathetic voice. There was nothing either melancholy or inscrutable in Gilbert’s physiognomy, but of course that didn’t matter in friendship!

Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked approvingly at Anne. If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. Even in quiet Avonlea there were temptations to be met and faced. White Sands youth were a rather “fast” set, and Gilbert was popular wherever he went. But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne’s friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it. She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever false to them. In Gilbert’s eyes Anne’s greatest charm was the fact that she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the little deceits and rivalries, the palpable bids for favor. Anne held herself apart from all this, not consciously or of design, but simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in its motives and aspirations.

-- Chapter XIX, Anne of Avonlea

2. For the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze

“What are you thinking of, Anne?” asked Gilbert, coming down the walk. He had left his horse and buggy out at the road.

“Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving,” answered Anne dreamily. “Isn’t it beautiful to think how everything has turned out . . . how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne’s uplifted face, “but wouldn’t it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been NO separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?”

For a moment Anne’s heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.

Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness.

Gilbert wisely said nothing more; but in his silence he read the history of the next four years in the light of Anne’s remembered blush. Four years of earnest, happy work . . . and then the guerdon of a useful knowledge gained and a sweet heart won.

-- Chapter XXX, Anne of Avonlea

3. I just want YOU

“I have a dream,” he said slowly. “I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends—and YOU!”

Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.

“I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?”

Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer.

They lingered in the old garden until twilight, sweet as dusk in Eden must have been, crept over it. There was so much to talk over and recall—things said and done and heard and thought and felt and misunderstood.

“I thought you loved Christine Stuart,” Anne told him, as reproachfully as if she had not given him every reason to suppose that she loved Roy Gardner.

Gilbert laughed boyishly.

“Christine was engaged to somebody in her home town. I knew it and she knew I knew it. When her brother graduated he told me his sister was coming to Kingsport the next winter to take music, and asked me if I would look after her a bit, as she knew no one and would be very lonely. So I did. And then I liked Christine for her own sake. She is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known. I knew college gossip credited us with being in love with each other. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered much to me for a time there, after you told me you could never love me, Anne. There was nobody else—there never could be anybody else for me but you. I’ve loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school.”

“I don’t see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool,” said Anne.

“Well, I tried to stop,” said Gilbert frankly, “not because I thought you what you call yourself, but because I felt sure there was no chance for me after Gardner came on the scene. But I couldn’t—and I can’t tell you, either, what it’s meant to me these two years to believe you were going to marry him, and be told every week by some busybody that your engagement was on the point of being announced. I believed it until one blessed day when I was sitting up after the fever. I got a letter from Phil Gordon—Phil Blake, rather—in which she told me there was really nothing between you and Roy, and advised me to ‘try again.’ Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that.”

Anne laughed—then shivered.

“I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert. Oh, I knew—I KNEW then—and I thought it was too late.”

“But it wasn’t, sweetheart. Oh, Anne, this makes up for everything, doesn’t it? Let’s resolve to keep this day sacred to perfect beauty all our lives for the gift it has given us.”

“It’s the birthday of our happiness,” said Anne softly. “I’ve always loved this old garden of Hester Gray’s, and now it will be dearer than ever.”

“But I’ll have to ask you to wait a long time, Anne,” said Gilbert sadly. “It will be three years before I’ll finish my medical course. And even then there will be no diamond sunbursts and marble halls.”

Anne laughed.

“I don’t want sunbursts and marble halls. I just want YOU. You see I’m quite as shameless as Phil about it. Sunbursts and marble halls may be all very well, but there is more ‘scope for imagination’ without them. And as for the waiting, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just be happy, waiting and working for each other—and dreaming. Oh, dreams will be very sweet now.”

Gilbert drew her close to him and kissed her. Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.

-- Chapter XLI, Anne of the Island

4. Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you.

"Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!"

Today has been a day dropped out of June into April. The snow is all gone and the fawn meadows and golden hills just sing of spring. I know I heard Pan piping in the little green hollow in my maple bush and my Storm King was bannered with the airiest of purple hazes. We've had a great deal of rain lately and I've loved sitting in my tower in the still, wet hours of the spring twilights. But tonight is a gusty, hurrying night . . . even the clouds racing over the sky are in a hurry and the moonlight that gushes out between them is in a hurry to flood the world.

"Suppose, Gilbert, we were walking hand in hand down one of the long roads in Avonlea tonight!"

Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you. You don't think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister."

-- Chapter 9, Anne of Windy Poplars

5. Suitable Places

"(Are you sure you kiss me in suitable places, Gilbert? I'm afraid Mrs. Gibson would think the nape of the neck, for instance, most unsuitable.)”

-- Chapter 12, Anne of Windy Poplars

6. He narrowly escaped bursting with pride

"Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife."

It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with the pride of it. The old captain held out a sinewy hand to Anne; they smiled at each other and were friends from that moment. Kindred spirit flashed recognition to kindred spirit.

-- Chapter 6, Anne’s House of Dreams

7. Queen of my heart and life and home

"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like Leslie's?" she asked wistfully.

"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it is for the world," said Gilbert, with one or two convincing accompaniments.

You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair—or hair of any color but"—

"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction.

"Yes, red—to give warmth to that milk-white skin and those shining gray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair wouldn't suit you at all Queen Anne—MY Queen Anne—queen of my heart and life and home."

"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne magnanimously.”

-Chapter 12, Anne’s House of Dreams

8.  Annest of Annes

But the best of all was when Gilbert came to her, as she stood at her window, watching a fog creeping in from the sea, over the moonlit dunes and the harbour, right into the long narrow valley upon which Ingleside looked down and in which nestled the village of Glen St. Mary.

"To come back at the end of a hard day and find you! Are you happy, Annest of Annes?"

"Happy!" Anne bent to sniff a vaseful of apple blossoms Jem had set on her dressing-table. She felt surrounded and encompassed by love. "Gilbert dear, it's been lovely to be Anne of Green Gables again for a week, but it's a hundred times lovelier to come back and be Anne of Ingleside."

-- Chapter 3, Anne of Ingleside

9. I couldn’t live without you

Anne felt like a released bird . . . she was flying again. Gilbert's arms were around her . . . his eyes were looking into hers in the moonlight.

"You do love me, Gilbert? I'm not just a habit with you? You haven't said you loved me for so long."

"My dear, dear love! I didn't think you needed words to know that. I couldn't live without you. Always you give me strength. There's a verse somewhere in the Bible that is meant for you . . . 'She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.'"

Life which had seemed so grey and foolish a few moments before was golden and rose and splendidly rainbowed again. The diamond pendant slipped to the floor, unheeded for the moment. It was beautiful . . . but there were so many things lovelier . . . confidence and peace and delightful work . . . laughter and kindness . . . that old safe feeling of a sure love.

"Oh, if we could keep this moment for ever, Gilbert!"

"We're going to have some moments. It's time we had a second honeymoon. Anne, there's going to be a big medical congress in London next February. We're going to it . . . and after it we'll see a bit of the Old World. There's a holiday coming to us. We'll be nothing but lovers again . . . it will be just like being married over again. You haven't been like yourself for a long time. ("So he had noticed.") You're tired and overworked . . . you need a change. ("You too, dearest. I've been so horribly blind.") I'm not going to have it cast up to me that doctors' wives never get a pill. We'll come back rested and fresh, with our sense of humour completely restored. Well, try your pendant on and let's get to bed. I'm half dead for sleep . . . haven't had a decent night's sleep for weeks, what with twins and worry over Mrs. Garrow."

--Chapter 41, Anne of Ingleside

10. Old love light

DR. BLYTHE:- “The old, old love light that was kindled so many years ago in Avonlea ... and burns yet, Anne ... at least for me.” 

ANNE:- “And for me, too. And will burn forever, Gilbert.” 

-- Page 189, The Blythes Are Quoted

Feel free to respond to this post with any of your favorite shirbert moments that I missed!

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee​ for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday. 

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00. 

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak. 

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY 

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late 

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid. 

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me. 

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range. 

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. 

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly. 

[7:57 AM] 

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took. 

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School. 

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.” 

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation. 

  A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement. 

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.” 

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon. 

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking. 

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored. 

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him. 

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front. 

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since. 

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her. 

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today. 

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark,  Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken. 

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club. 

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you. 

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice. 

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?” 

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 

 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 

 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?” 

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal." 

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

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[1ddotdhq]

Thurs 21 Jan ‘21

Welp. Today was a busy week, huh? 

Let’s start with Zayn’s INZAYNLY AWESOME idea of writing a comic book based on his own album - take THAT reviews that said he had no concept behind it! The first panel of the story is a man in a white car speeding away from a man with purple eyes and white pupils (REALLY creepy btw), and it reads, “A madman has been chasing me for the past hour. When I go faster, he comes closer”. I am intrigued! I hope that this is some sort of enemies to lovers type thing, but knowing these guys, its strictly horror/suspense. This is being presented in video form, so the panels are moving figures and they are scored with songs from the album, which I assume is how the rest of the panels will also be presented. You can watch these two panels with the songs “Calamity” and “Better” over on YouTube for the full effect! Also, Zayn’s last listening party was today and he was the DJ! “DJ Malik”, he said in a sentimental throwback to his boyband days. He and his team had a great time throwing airhorns into the the listening party and then they did a “from Dusk Til Dawn '' encore, which I’m sure means Zayn wants us to be streaming NIL from Dusk Til Dawn! 

To keep the party going, Paul Roberts, TPWK and longtime 1D choreographer, had a chat with the BBC about working with Harry and Phoebe (WB) on the music video. He knew right away, he said, that everyone from 1D could be a great dancer if they really wanted to be, and, ten years later, he finally got the chance to test the theory! Spoiler alert: he was RIGHT! Harry had seen Phoebe in Fleabag on the West End and got on with her from the word go, and so the idea came about. “It was about three weeks before the world started to burn”, he says about the filming of the video,“We didn’t know how lucky we were”. 

Finally, let’s CHAT: it’s stunt timeeeeee!! Today is, of course, Freddie’s birthday, which meant the usual round of pictures stolen from social media from the Tomlinson sisters, silence from Louis, and birthday pics from the Clarks. Including a picture of a sonogram posted by Briana that was taken on August 3rd, 2015 (Louis confirmed the baby on the very next day on GMA). This sonogram is notable BECAUSE - drumroll pleasseeeee - it was taken at a FERTILITY CLINIC which specialized in surrogacy and IVF. So this is a clinic that only treats people who cannot have children naturally. To make matters more interesting, the clinic does not do non-client visits, and they did not do them in 2015. You simply could not go to this clinic if you had an accidental pregnancy because those are not the kinds of clients served by this clinic! I mean, if nothing else, this shows that Briana did not get accidentally pregnant by Louis, if she was pregnant at all. Likely, it was another fucked up photoshop job, where they switched Tammi’s name for hers and just forgot to change the name of the clinic. Sighhh. We knew this, of course, but WOW does this prove it concretely, huh? Anyways, I cannot BELIEVE that they are still fucking up THIS BADLY five years later, but uh. Yeah. Happy Birthday, Freddie, hope you got more than an apple this year! 

But that’s not the ONLY stunt that’s becoming faker and faker: Fauxlivia is proving itself to be nothing but the cash, and the cars, and the glory...and the pretty clothes, apparently! Turns out, Olivia is a brand ambassador for La Ligne in much the same way that H works for Gucci. She’s been featured on their instagram many MANY times, and has, thus far, worn their clothes for no fewer than TWO of the Holivia pap walks. Strangely enough, though, when this whole stunt began to manifest in late October, HARRY began featuring on their Instagram page as well. Totally Organically, of course, considering that they’d never talked about him before! That AND: the pink beanie that H was wearing in their dumb af Parking Lot Pap Walk has ALSO been idenfied to be La Ligne, which I’m sure he Just Decided to begin wearing and it had NOTHING to do with Jeff being Right There and them having promoted Gucci together at Jeff’s wedding. Mhmmmmm they’ve convinced me they’re TOTALLY in love. Celebrities that promo together, stay together, after all! (Oh, is that not the saying?)

Meanwhile, Liam’s Final Act merch has been delayed, and he has asked people to “contact him when they get it” (Harry’s team could NEVER), and JC Stewart called Niall “one of the nicest guys in music”. I’m sure he agrees! And, Niall has his own little discourse today - so much for him not creating any drama, huh? There were some shirtless pics of him posted by an ~source~ where he seems to have been working out (Niall has ABS now??) and is arranging a stack of boxes that read “nude” (just like Niall, huh?). UAs battled it out whether or not these pics should have been posted because he did not know they were being taken and there’s ETHICS involved, but Niall hangs out shirtless so much ANYWAYS that I bet he doesn’t mind.

[natromanxoff]

25 - Just Chatting...

Hello one and all.

It's been a long time since I graced these pages and, believe it or not, nothing much has been happening in my life, apart from the odd soiree or two. Winter has finally left us and spring has sprung, and it's nice to see the sun again. Let's start by wishing my old mate a happy birthday and I hope you all had a little drinkie for him, I know I did. In fact I got legless, he would have been proud of me. Whenever we were in London there was always a party at Fred's on his birthday, be it a handful of friends, or one where he invited half of Britain, but which ever one it was there was always a good time to be had and a lot of chaos. One year he actually took over Pikes Hotel in Ibiza and chartered a private plane to fly his friends in. Roger and myself were already on the island recording some of his solo stuff so we didn't have far to travel to the bash. When I say we were working, it's kind of true as we spent a lot of time on his boat "Ga Ga" whizzing around having lunch and fun. The party was held outside around the swimming pool, now is that an invite for trouble or what? There were hundreds of balloons hanging from every available fixture, and of course there is always an idiot that thinks he's a clown. This particular clown, who will remain nameless, decided it would be funny to light one of the balloons, and needless to say the whole lot went up in flames. Phoebe and Crystal to the rescue. We had to get this "fire" off the wooden rafters before the whole hotel went up in smoke, so we were pulling bits of string while burning rubber was dripping down on us. I was so traumatised by the whole event I had to have another drink ....... a lame excuse I know, but hey, it's my story. Back to the pool. Edwin Shirley, of trucking fame and also an all round good guy after a few too many, decided to have a swim, so he removed his clothing and was flapping around the pool when some daft countess told him to get dressed and behave himself. Wrong move lady. Edwin was not impressed by his telling off and threw her in, and she was even less impressed with that and started ranting and raving, much to the amusement to the rest of the party hounds. She left with her tail between her legs and didn't look at all glamorous in her soaking wet dress, running makeup and failed hairdo. We continued till mid morning and went straight to the airport and caught a flight home. Thanks F for the great parties and good times, you will never be forgotten.

I still get asked a lot if I'm gonna write the "Real" story about Queen. Well the answer is no, and the reason is that the guys gave me a great job and a great life and I have far to much respect for them, their wives/girlfriends, children and families to tell the world what we got up to in private. I feel that is our business and ours alone. Most of us are all in relationships and telling tales could make life awkward for a few people, band and crew alike. I'm sure at some point in time someone from the organisation will write a book, have 5 minutes of fame and make a quick buck, but it sure as hell won't be me, and I'll still be able to sleep at night and when I see the guys I will still be free to say, "Wanna beer MATE."

I've had a few questions asked me that I'm gonna answer quickly.

First off is "Do you have any stories about Freddies cats? (ripping furniture etc.)" Here's a good reply, No. So moving right along, "Of all the famous people you've met, who impressed you the most?" Tricky one this. After years in this "Biz" they all become "Just normal people," and some become good pals, but on one occasion I was in Paul McCartneys studio and I was handed his violin bass and I was sitting there holding it when someone said, "Paul is left handed, hold it like he would." When I turned it around, still taped in the cutout was the Beatles set list from their days in Hamburg, now that impressed me.

Deaky and myself were the only two reggae lovers in the outfit, and Bob Marley turned up to see the show at Madison Square Gardens. Strange choice of show for Bob, but he loved Another one bites the dust, and he happened to be in New York on a stopover on his way to Germany for laser treatment. Show time and our intro tape was playing, and someone told JD that Bob was in the audience, so he cranked his bass up and played "Lively up yourself" over the tape. This was very possibly the last time Marley ever heard this played as he died shortly after. I didn't get to meet him, but I did get to meet Tyrone Downie, Bobs keyboard player in the Wailers, and Tyrone and myself got up to all sorts of mischief that night. RT on the other hand hates reggae music, but I did manage to drag him to the Circus Krone in Munich to see Peter Tosh. I loved it, he hated it. I look at this as payback because years before he insisted that I went to Hammersmith Odeon to see Laurie Anderson, of O Superman fame. This show he loved, but I put it alongside Cher as one of the worst concerts I have ever seen. Needless to say I have also met a couple of stars that I didn't see eye to eye with. Like the American rock star we encountered in a club one night, and he was such a pain I had to take him into the toilets to have a quiet word with him. He finally got the message so I released my hand from around his neck and let him drop back down to the ground. To finish this segment I wanna tell you something that Bev Bevan said. Bev was the drummer with ELO, and them and us were touring the US at the same time, and as it turned out, staying in the same hotel in one city. Roger and myself were leaving the hotel and waiting for the elevator. When the doors opened Bev was in there and him and RT said their hellos. Rog then said, "Bev, this is Crystal, he looks after me." Bev turned to me, shook my hand and said, "Pleased to meet you. If it wasn't for guys like you, guys like us wouldn't be where we are today." He didn't need to say that, and was genuine when he did. I wasn't impressed with meeting him, but he is certainly in my top ten of nicest people I have ever meet.

Over the last few months I've spent a lot of time in the Chatroom, and I highly recommend it to you all as it can be a bit of a laugh. For anyone who has never visited the room please remember a couple of things, if you come in and start swearing you will be kicked out. I know, it happens to me all the time. Also don't come in and start going on about knowing axemen and murderers and other such garbage, cause that also warrants a kicking. Some buffoon from Ireland, who went by the name of "Death" turned up with an attitude and was going on about how f***ing awesome Queen were at Slane Castle. He was not known by anyone in there so I asked him to watch his language. He said he was the Grim Reaper and could do and say what he liked, so I told him otherwise and he was most put out when I kicked him. What a fool. A while ago there was some prat who called himself F***queen, good name eh! Anyway, he/she/it was picking on a lovely young lady called Raisa, and was saying some awful things to her and completely freaked her out, so I went to her defence and FQ turned the attention my way. As far as I'm concerned it's only letters on a screen and it didn't phase me at all, but at least he/she/it gave up on Raisa. In all fairness to FQ, whoever you may be, he/she left a message on the Bulletin Board saying sorry to Raisa and myself and would never do it again. So FQ, from the both of us, thanks for the apology, we accept it. What other weirdos have we had? Well, there was a brightspark who decided it would be funny to use the nickname QueenRshite, another bad move from this person who was honoured with a ban.

While in there I've seen a lot of friendships made, and a couple that have fallen apart. I got a private message one evening from a very drunk girl who, how shall we phrase this, offered me her body and wanted to do all sorts of naughty things to me, I thanked her and declined...must be getting old or something. I have also witnessed relationships being made and, usually there is a lot of humour involved, but needless to say some arguments do occur. I have also seen some of the daftest things said. One guy was so convinced that one of the regulars was either Deaky or she was chatting with him in private that he actually started tracking her every move on the net. He also told me about some highly illegal activities he was up to concerning the band. I wouldn't have thought I was the best person to tell such stuff to, and needless to say I had a go at him. Just to add to his stupidity he's been recently boasting about his affair with an underage girl, and I reckon if he had any more sense he would be half witted. Having mentioned all the twits I'd like to say a quick hello to all the regulars, White Queen and Killer Queen, the lovely girls Blue Rock and Rannnnnnni, SQJan, Mayflower and her boys, Farookh (aka Leroy Brown) MarshMallow, the three Tigers - Babe, Lily and Stripes and the mighty Falc, also to all the rest who I haven't mentioned by name, you know who you are. I'd also like to say hi to Daddy Cool who is the singer in the Dutch cover band Miracle, and Dad, if you never make it as a singer you could make a great career from being a stand up comedian. Finally an extra special hello to the gorgeous MTB, who is about to make an honest man of me ;)

Before I go I'm sure I don't need to remind anyone of a certain date in November that is engraved in all of our minds. And I know that a lot of you will be heading to Garden Lodge to leave flowers. I don't wanna preach and tell you what to do, and I know flowers are a nice gesture, but they do die and the only people to really benefit from this is the florist. This year lets all give a donation, no matter how small, to Aids research, this way the cash will be used to try and stamp out this awful disease. If you really wanna leave flowers, buy a smaller, cheaper bunch and donate the balance of what you would have spent to these charities. It's been said a million times before but it is true, Every penny counts.

As always, Loadsa Love.

Crystal