#i KNOW that he just hates car centric cities and knows a lot about city planning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quokkacore · 4 years ago

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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

#kwritersworldnet #nct angst #nct x reader #jeno x reader #jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct au #jeno au #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop imagines #nct dream x reader #lee jeno x reader #my writing

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

Text

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers!

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes.

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful.

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box.

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze.

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes.

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying.

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh.

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from.

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material.

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl.

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh.

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?”

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him.

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity.

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do.

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week.

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together.

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess.

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore.

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to.

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again.

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time.

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men.

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek.

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?”

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has.

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny.

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets.

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team.

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill.

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man.

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink.

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with.

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!”

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved.

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is.

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly.

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck.

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands.

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.”

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly.

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

♕ ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s.

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.” Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can.

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out.

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right.

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up.

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes.

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do.

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak.

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched.

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly.

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well.

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about.

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt.

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them.

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride.

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted.

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again.

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.”

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same.

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone.

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in.

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now.

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so.

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark.

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh.

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?”

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it.

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true.

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against.

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day.

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.”

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind.

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now.

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be.

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason.

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ”

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess.

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it.

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again.

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it.

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss.

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness.

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately.

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture.

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view.

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his.

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him.

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth.

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck.

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go.

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking.

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain.

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained.

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

#first #five #tags #don't #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader

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phantaloon-books · 3 years ago

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All We Are is Bullets

AFTG songfic, Andreil centric, Andrew POV, inspired by Demolition Lovers by My Chemical Romance

Trigger warnings: violence, graphic descriptions of violence, death, major character death, gunshots, guns, gunshot wounds, injury, angst, hurt no comfort, sad ending, blood, car crash, life on the run. This one’s on the heavy side sorry.

Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard

I would drive on to the end with you, a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full

It had been over 7 months since they last had an encounter with anyone from the Moriyamas or the remaining of the Butcher’s people.

They had grown too comfortable, too soft. Andrew wasn’t even sure how that happened, considering both his and Neil’s upbringing, but it happened anyway. They were reckless and careless, jumping from town to town along the United States, jump starting cars and making gas station stops and robbing liquor stores, and they’d grown to feel safe.

What a ridiculous thing it is, safety. Neither Andrew nor Neil should be able to afford to feel safe.

But they did.

And these are the consequences.

Andrew shakes his head, pressing harder on the gas, willing the stolen sports car to just go faster. One hand on the wheel, the other hand hovering over Neil’s pressed against the bleeding wound on his stomach.

Neil’s breaths are getting rougher, and Andrew tightens his hand on the wheel. Of course Neil notices, and icy blue eyes look up towards haunted hazel.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t worry, I’ve dealt with worse, it’s gonna be fine,” Neil’s words are supposed to be soothing, but his voice is too hoarse for them to work. Andrew snarls.

“Shut the fuck up, Josten, just stay awake, I’ll get us out of here, and we’ll stop soon to patch you up.”

“They’re gonna be on our tails soon, Drew, I don’t-”

He breaks off in a coughing fit, his lungs rattle, and when he pulls his hand away from his mouth, Andrew sees the red that paints his hand. Andrew swears his soul leaves his body.

“I’ll pull over on the next stop-”

“Andrew, we don’t have time to stop right now, you know we don’t, it’s fine, I’ll be fine, if we stop we’re dead.”

Andrew knows that’s true, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it. Instead he holds on to Neil’s hand tighter, and Neil’s expression softens.

“Until the end, forever, remember?”

I will drive until the end with you. I mean this forever.

This isn’t supposed to be their lives. They were supposed to be done after the shitshow that was Neil’s freshman year. The Moriyamas were supposed to leave Neil alone. The FBI was supposed to deal with what was left of the Wesninski circle. They never should have trusted the feds to do their fucking job. Instead what was left of the Wesninski claimed war on the Moriyamas and Hatfords. Ichirou was beyond furious, with both Wesninskis and Hatfords out for blood and revenge. And he blamed it all on Neil.

Andrew would never understand the Moriyama lord’s logic. To blame a mob war on a 19 year old kid, whose only crime was being born to two mob families, one of which was tied to the yakuza.

But they were out for Neil’s blood then. Had nearly killed him outside the Court the first time, he would have been shot in the head if it wasn’t for his incredibly quick instincts. The shot hit his shoulder instead. They didn’t wait for a second time, Andrew just shoved their stuff in a bag, took Neil’s remaining money and together they ran. He only left a letter for Aaron, and he didn’t regret leaving their family behind.

Neil had been upset with Andrew at first.

“You have no idea what you just did, Andrew! You have no idea what it’s like to run for your life every single day, not knowing if you’re gonna live long enough to see the next, you have no idea what you just did!”

“I don’t care about that, Neil.”

“You should! This isn’t a little adventure, this isn’t a road trip, this is fighting to stay alive, and bullets and knives and hiding and lying forever!” his voice broke, and dropped to a whisper, “I never wanted to put you through this.”

“You’re not understanding me here, I’m trying to show you but you don’t understand. You mean too much to me to care about all the things you’re saying, I’d end my days in a hail of bullets to keep you safe, I would drive on to the end with you, I’ll keep running with you to prove to you how much you mean to me.”

Leaving bought them 4 more years.

Until today.

Until the end of everything.

The sun is going down on the highway as Andrew floors it, going too high above the speed limit running from Neil’s demons. But he’d signed up for this, as Neil had so kindly put it. Neil’s hand trembles, growing cold. His blood is slowly pooling on the car seat below him. He fights to hide his grimace, but his face is pulled tightly in pain anyway.

“I’m going to fucking stop, Neil.”

“Goddammit, Andrew! No, we can’t afford to stop, right now!”

I’m trying to let you know how much you mean.

“Andrew, we’re not stopping, I can hang on however long we need to get somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is safe, Neil, we’ll never stop,” Andrew can’t help the snarl, anger is curling inside his chest and it’s too much, “You’re bleeding out, don’t you understand? We need to stop now.”

“I know this is frustrating for you, Drew, I get it, but we have to wait until we reach somewhere safer-”

“Goddammit, Neil-”

The car is thrown forward at once, and Andrew has to take both of his hands to the wheel to stop the car from veering sideways and crashing. With a curse, he takes a look through the rearview mirror, and he curses once more.

Fuck.

They’d been too busy arguing to notice the black SUVs and trucks on their tails. There’s a lot of them, nondescript, but obviously Moriyama. Andrew’s heart starts to race, as he wills the car to go faster, beyond its own limits. But there’s too many of them. There’s no way they’ll make it out this time.

He glances at Neil, blank mask long forgotten, worry and dread and terror seeping out of him like it never has before. Because Neil is crying softly, despite the serenity of his entire posture. Tears are streaming down his face, eyes closed but body and face relaxed.

The car is nearing 200 mph when Neil opens his eyes, tears flowing freely. The black SUVs are getting impossibly closer, caging them on the sides.

“I’m so sorry, Drew,” Neil’s voice is a shattered whisper, and it breaks Andrew’s already shattering heart, “I never wanted to get you involved in all of this, I never wanted this life for you, I’m so so sorry, I ruined your life.”

“Shut the fuck up, Neil, I chose this, I chose to run with you, I wanted-” the words are stuck in his throat and he can’t get them out. I wanted to spend however much time was left with you. That’s how much you mean to me. That’s how much this means to me. “I meant it then, and I mean it now, Neil Josten, until the end.”

Neil’s eyes are pained, something like grief and sorrow shining through the icy blue. But he still forces himself to smile, as if he can read what Andrew thought, and Andrew knows full well he does.

“We’ll show them all how much we mean.”

The first shot comes from Andrew’s side and he barely manages to dodge the bullet that cuts through the glass like it’s nothing, shattering the window at once. Neil crouches with a cry, and Andrew shoots a glance his way as much as he can as he attempts to keep the car under control. Neil’s right shoulder is bleeding, the window on his side just as shattered as his own. Andrew didn’t even notice the car getting close enough to Neil’s side, or the shot aimed his way. Neil feels his stare, the overwhelming alarm and horror that drowns Andrew from the inside, and turns pained yet calm eyes his way.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

Understanding.

Neil knows he’s not going to make it, they are not going to make it. This is going to be their last run. With a deep breath, Andrew buries all the fear and worry deep down, and stares at Neil with nothing but determination.

“I’m about to get us killed, but when it stops, we run in the other direction and into the city, we hide as best as we can.” The or die trying goes unsaid, but Andrew knows Neil understands, he always does.

“I love you, until the end of everything.”

Andrew stares at Neil, and he wants to say I love you too, you mean everything to me, but instead what comes out is “Hang on, tight,” and he hits the brakes at once.

Despite Andrew’s eidetic memory should make sure that he remembers what happens next, but it’s all a blur, and when he can get to consciousness and focus his eyes, it’s to Neil half carrying him as he limps his way down the highway, looking frantically behind him. A quick glance behind them and Andrew sees the wreck he left behind; cars pile one on top of the other, some are on fire, including the one they were driving, and they set each other aflame, like pouring fuel on scarecrows. Moriyama men are dragging themselves out of the cars, and trying to find a way out of the wreck. Andrew can’t help the smile. He didn’t think they’d make it after braking a car going 200 mph, but he somehow manages to make his legs listen to him, as his ears echo.

Neil notices when he feels Andrew take back some of his own weight, turns a bloodied and dirty face at him, and smiles back brightly. Neither of them have much hope of making it to the other side of the road and finding a place to hide, but in that one second, they begin to run hand in hand, and things are okay, despite Neil’s bleeding wounds, and Andrew’s aching head.

They both know it won’t last long, so Andrew pulls Neil for a kiss, as long as he dares to, it’s merely a brush of their lips, but it’s everything that matters.

They’re about to reach the other lane when the first shot rings through the air, but Neil’s always bright instincts pull them both out of the way. They would be helpful if there were two or three men, but Andrew risks a glance back. There are dozens of men regaining their composure, readying their weapons, and before he knows what’s happening, both Neil and him are hitting the ground hard.

Neil just pushed him.

And then the bullets come, lead rain passing through phantoms.

He’s too disoriented at first, but then burning pain lights his body, like nothing he has ever felt before. He gasps, but he pushes through the pain, and forces himself to look around. He doesn’t have to look far, he finds what he needs next to him.

“Neil! Neil!” His voice seems far, far away, but Neil is looking up at the blue, blue sky, breath coming in insignificant little huffs, more like sighs than breaths. Blood is pooling underneath them. “Neil, look at me, stay with me.”

Moving hurts, burns, but he makes himself push through it harder, until he’s somehow leaning on his side, with a clear view of Neil. Neil who’s bleeding too much. Neil who has too many bullet holes on his body. Neil who just pushed him to the side to protect him. Neil who is bleeding out. Neil who despite everything turns his head so he’s facing Andrew, even if his eyes are still looking up.

Andrew’s own eyes are blurring with unshed tears, and he blindly reaches forward to grab Neil’s hand lying limply by his side.

He feels like he’s falling.

Neil’s lips are turning red, and he’s coughing, choking, trying to force out words that can’t come out. He gasps and moans in agony, and Andrew’s own chest hurts, not just from the bullets he couldn’t escape. This is it, a pool of blood, falling and touching hands.

“Neil, look at me, look at me, it’s gonna be alright, we’re gonna be alright.”

Andrew’s own voice is cracking. He doesn’t understand how Neil remains awake, but his stubborn idiot rabbit is still breathing. With another strained whine and a choked sob, their eyes meet at last. Icy blue and deep hazel, one last time.

And Andrew is falling, falling, falling.

He squeezes Neil’s hand as tightly as he can, and chokes out a whisper despite the metallic taste flooding his mouth, “It’s okay, we’ll be okay, just let go, it’s okay.”

He feels the thuds of footsteps approaching, but black is already creeping at the edges of his vision, his eyelids are growing heavy, and Neil’s own breaths are coming slower.

Neil closes his eyes, and Andrew closes his as Neil’s shredded chest stops moving.

I’ll meet your eyes, I mean this, forever.

lol sorry

read on ao3

#all for the game #aftg fanfic #aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #tfc fanfic #tfc #tkm #trk #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #this was dark lmao #ngl i made myself cry for a bit there #demolition lovers

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soysaucevictim · 3 years ago

Text

“aching, shaking, breaking (like humans do)”

Summary: Remus thinks Hypnos has abandoned him for good (metaphorically speaking), Patton is there to help. (Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic

Characters: Patton and Remus centric. Logan, Virgil, and Roman mentioned.

Relationships: Intruality (platonic), Logicality (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Dukexiety (romantic/QPP), Background Moxiety (paternal/platonic)

Warnings: Remus angst, extreme insomnia, (unintentional) self-injury, medications, mental health issues, grim imagery, Remus Has Intrusive Thoughts, Remus Is A Mess, Patton Is A Good Friend, Interfaith Friendships, Implied (Extended) Family Problems

Patton was pedaling on one of the exercise bikes, which was one of his favorite activities to do at the gym. Relatively low impact and he usually took a “something is better than nothing” approach to his routines nowadays. Just appreciating the people watching and socializing with his workout famILY.

That was odd.

Remus hadn’t been to the gym for the whole week. Even when the kiddo overdid it – usually he’s not out of commission this long for it. Unless-

Something hit him in the gut when he realized that. He stopped on his bike and immediately buzzed his number.

Ring.

Nothing.

He could shoot him a text, but it was just not settling right with him. Logan had been doing one of his HIIT circuits on the bike next to him. He took a deep breath, gently tapping Logan’s shoulder. Despite Logan’s concentration, he desisted immediately, turning off his music to respond, “What is it?”

“Have you seen a certain Pottymouth at your work recently?”

Logan paused, with a look of concerned realization, “Come to think of it, no. No, I haven’t. Well, he was getting particularly erratic and called in sick… 3 days ago.”

“I think I should go check in on him. My Other Son’s been swamped with work lately, sooo…”

If Logan was perfectly honest, it was often confusing when Patton referred to half their crew as his son, “Other son? Did you mean Virgil?”

Patton nodded.

“Probably prudent. Unfortunately, no one can stand in for me at the firm tonight. And. You’re better at the… emotions stuff.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence! Hopefully I’m just worried for nothing.”

Patton rose up from his bike and was about to leave with his things. Logan smiled faintly, “Hey, if you would, could you tell me how he’s doing when you find out?”

Patton smiled back, a little forced if he was honest, “I’ll make sure to have him tell you that himself!”

It wasn’t a very far trip across the city to get to Remus’s apartment complex from the gym.

Once Patton parked his car and took another deep breath, he stepped out toward it.

After getting buzzed in and jogging up a couple flights of stairs, thanking his stars for basic training, he was at the door in a jiffy.

Patton wasn’t in the business, but he was reminded of the time Remus was raising heck to get Unit 404 from this building. He remembered seeing Logan trying desperately not to laugh when he heard about it.

He knew to knock to the phrase “Shave and a Haircut”, to alert Remus. He drummed out a few calls, waiting for Remus to make a sound on the other side, hoping he would.

It was a thing in their group, ever since they all watched “Roger Rabbit” together for a movie night, years ago.

Once. Twice. Thrice…

Patton heard the sound of chaotic crashing noises and an off-script, but still in the right cadence, “Fuck OFF!”

“Remus!? Kiddo, it’s me. I wanted to check on you!”

He heard some stumbling noises and a hoarse, “P-padre?”

“Can I come in?”

There was a dramatically loud sigh before the door was unlatched, unlocked, and open.

“Thanks- oh.”

Patton wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but Remus looked even more harried than he usually was. The darkness around his eyes even more pronounced, his face was so drained. His makeup smudged, tear-streaked, and hanging on for dear life. His gaze wild and jumpy. Remus didn’t do much more than stand in the living room, staring at Patton once he entered.

Patton saw that Remus had knocked over one of his glass cabinets. He noticed Remus looked pretty scratched up and was bleeding in places, mostly his hands and knuckles.

Patton furrowed his brow, asking mostly to avoid presumptions, “How are you feeling?”

Remus sounded breathless too, “What does it fucking… look like!?”

Patton paused and looked around some more, there was a lot of trash strewn about the floor. Granted there usually was, Remus would just call it “organized chaos”. But Patton did note that there was an alarming number of energy drink cans piled around a hopelessly full trash bin. Monsters, NOS, Red Bulls, 5 Hours, yerba mate, the works.

Patton slumped a little bit in worry, “Not exactly peachy keen, I take it?”

Patton had a hunch that Remus was screaming not that long ago, based on just how raw his voice sounded, “No SHIT!”

“Um, would you like to sit down for a bit? It might help to talk it out.”

“Can’t.”

“Too restless, huh?”

“Yeah.”

At that point Remus was mindlessly digging his fingernails into his arm. Patton winced a little and decided to ask, “Can I take care of those injuries, at least? I just want to make sure they don’t get-”

Remus glanced at but barely registered the wounds, “Infected?”

“Yeah.”

“F-first aid kit’s in the bathroom. Not like it matters. It would be just my luck to have a brown recluse bite or resistant staph or necrotizing fasciitis. You know where shit rots and liquefies and you get all septic?! Imagine the SMELL.”

Patton slowly worked his way to the bathroom to get the kit, not taking his eyes away from Remus, “Well, if it looks like it’ll be that way, I WILL be taking your butt to the ER.”

Remus didn’t seem to register that, droning on, “Oh. What if I lose a finger? Or several! Or my entire hands! Everybody says I might die of a heart attack before I hit 30? My ticker feels like it’s going to EXPLODE, Teddy Roosevelt. Imagine a live grenade strapped to it – BOOM. Sounds like fun.”

Patton flinched, thinking that was to get a rise out of him, “Kiddo, I think that’s the opposite of fun.”

Remus weakly laughed, pointing at his chest thoughtlessly, “Better than worrying about cancer or some shit!”

Eventually Patton had to break line of sight to grab the kit, but he kept talking, “When… when did you last get some sleep?”

There was a pause that made Patton’s own heart ache a little bit. Remus muttered after some hemming and hawing, “Uh… 3? 4? 4 days ago? I think. I don’t even fucking know.”

Patton took a moment to look over the medicine cabinet while he was there. Just to see if Remus had anything that could help him get much needed snooze time. There was a bottle of trazodone, mostly full, Benedryl, also mostly full… no suspiciously empty bottles of anything around. So that was a hopeful sign.

“Would you mind if I asked you to take something to help you sleep? After I patch you up?”

“You remember that story where a whole batch of Tylenol was tampered with and killed like seven whole people?”

“… I’ll ask again a little later, then.”

Patton returned to the living room, kit in hand, both relieved and disconcerted about Remus just standing in the same spot he was in. His hands were clenching and unclenching, like he was fighting to stay awake even longer. “Okay, it would be easier on both of us if you sat down while I dress those wounds.”

Remus didn’t move, so Patton tried to gently nudge this poor kid toward the sofa anyways. Thankfully, he didn’t resist at all. Patton noticed just how wobbly a gait he had in that short distance. Once seated, Patton also saw that both his knees were scuffed. Patton winced, imagining that he took at least a few falls very recently.

Without prompting, Remus whined, “Everything hurts, Padre.”

“Well, going without sleep as long as you have can give you a bad case of the body aches. Seen some of my old combat buddies deal with that on our worst deployments…”

Patton started to wipe down Remus’s knuckles first with some cotton balls and alcohol. He just wanted to get a better sense of how deep these cuts were. He was relieved that they were surprisingly shallow, “I think these will only need some simple bandages and antibiotic cream… but I’m definitely going to check on you later, to see how your hands are doing.”

Remus nodded, and started to blather a bit again, “I feel like Hypnos himself has forsaken me. A curse! A bane! Pat? Is his brother going to come for me? Am I going to ride down Styx and meet the big H himself?”

“… you’re not going to die, if I can help it. I swear to God Himself.”

“Gross.”

Patton sometimes forgot that their positions of faith were so far removed. But that didn’t dissuade him from caring a lot. He hated seeing his friend suffering so much. He took another breath, and addressed the gouges and cuts in Remus’s arms. They were rough, probably unintentionally from his own hands. He approached those similarly. “You feeling any sleepier, yet?”

“Mmm… no.”

Remus looked like he was about to pass out, Patton was reasonably sure just the fact he was seated and getting some TLC helped push him closer to shutting his eyes. “Well. I’m going to hang around for a few, just to make sure you’re alright, okay? Mind if I turn on the TV?”

Remus started to slur his speech considerably, “Knock yourself out, Holy Ghost.”

Patton thinly smiled about the blasphemous sentiment, but he shook that off, it didn’t matter really. He was just glad to see Remus doze off like he desperately needed it.

Patton decided to tune into Nickelodeon and watch some cartoon reruns, eventually hearing some loud snoring coming from Remus. Patton sighed and smiled at the sight.

“Oh GEEZ, Patton. Were you – were you here all night?”

Patton blinked awake from the shouting and looked outside to see it was bright out, “I-I guess I was?”

Virgil was there to see his boyfriend sleeping like the dead and Patton next to him.

“Logan told me to check on Remus and I just got back here. And-”

“Remus is going to be okay, I think. Do you have any idea what may’ve started this episode?”

Virgil sat down on the recliner nearby and looked tired but contemplative.

“His “family” tried contacting him. All I know was it devolving into a messy fight and it rattled him. He… stubbornly didn’t want to talk about it.”

Patton understood what he meant at this point.

The only blood relative Remus had anything nice to say about was Roman. Someone who should probably know what happened, if he wasn’t already aware.

All to address later, once Remus recovered a little more.

Patton ran his fingers through Remus’s greasy hair. Not the most pleasant, but he hoped it helped to soothe him as he continued to slumber.

Virgil smiled at both of them, his own concern never quite gone, “Thanks for this, Pop Star.”

#spilled musing #sanders sides #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #(yes - give both the twins a drabble in crisis)#(patton's here mincing his oaths whilst remus is swearing like a sailor... pffft )#(patton used to be a combat medic in this AU - so like. he's seen some shit but is still v caring)#gymrat au

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firelxdykatara · 4 years ago

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hello!! i just wanted to ask- i wanna do an ouat rewatch bc CAPTAIN SWANN but its pretty long and i honestly dont care for the other characters/how badly the overall writing was handled.. which are your favourite captain swan eps? anything them centered and i think ill just skip around to rewatch their romance as they did invent romance 😭😭 ty in advance <3

they absolutely did invent romance, you are right about that and i love them so much

UHMMMM as far as my favorite CS eps, here’s a roadmap of what I personally consider key eps in their journey (some of this is from memory but I haven’t done a full rewatch in a while so i’m going through the episode list as a refresher)

2x06: Tallahassee--this is a must-watch ep for any CS fan, and I really think this is the episode that sparked the fire that CS would become as a fandom. It has everything--flirtatious banter, all kinds of tension, deliberate parallels drawn between Emma and Killian’s pasts, as well as their first meeting being intercut with her relationship with Neal (which serves, especially in hindsight, to highlight just how sketchy that relationship was, and why she couldn’t bring herself to trust Killian--because the last time she felt this way about anyone, it ended horribly)

2x08 and 2x09: Into the Deep and Queen of Hearts--these episodes cover the race to the portal between Emma&co and Hook/Cora and while they don’t do a ton for CS as a relationship since they’re still enemies at this point, it lays great foundation for their future relationship development. Plus, sexy swordfight, Hook going out of his way to save Aurora’s heart--he may be a pirate, but he has standards ok--and Emma realizing Cora can’t remove her heart without her permission? Poetic Cinema

2x11: The Outsider--more of a Killian-centric episode, it shows a lot of Killian at his worst but it’s necessary for his overall character arc and I genuinely love looking back and seeing just how far he managed to come, to the point of eventually even letting go of his (very understandable) grudge against Rumplestiltskin.

2x12: In the Name of the Brother--am I including this purely for Emma&Hook banter in the hospital, and Killian saying ‘hey beautiful’ when he’s lying on the road because he just got hit by a fucking car? You bet I am. Also, go to youtube and look up ‘ouat season two deleted scene jello’, because it’s beautiful and there was a tremendous outcry in the fandom when we realized it had been cut from the episode lmao (It’s also the episode that made me start shipping Frankenwolf, which I’m still sad never went anywhere, but they had a lot of potential and great chemistry.)

2x22: And Straight On Till Morning--A few of the episodes in between have some fun minor interactions and flashbacks (and I always approve of episodes where Killian gets one up on Rumple, so 2x15 is fun for me if i ignore all the Neal bits) but the finale is where we finally get a glimpse of who Killian could be beyond his need for revenge. He didn’t have to come back, he didn’t have to bring back the bean and help the town--but he did.

Season 3a: there’s a lot of really good stuff here for Hook and Emma that is interwoven between the A plots of other episodes. I think, as far as half-season arcs go, it’s one of the best (and everything after 4a bombed hard, but I digress) But there are a few episodes that stand out if you don’t want to watch the whole season. (I recommend starting with the premier though, it was a really solid season starter overall.)

3x05: Good Form--this is the culmination of David’s poisoned-by-dreamshade arc, and is also Peak Captain Charming Bromance. Hook not only keeping David’s secret, but doing everything he can to help save him??? Poetic cinema. It also provides some crucial Killian backstory, showing how he lost his brother to the very same dreamshade. Plus, the character development--Pan offers Killian a chance to escape the island with Emma if he kills David, and instead, he saves him, refusing the deal and damn the consequences. Also also? The first CS kiss which drove the fandom WILD.

3X06: Ariel--not only to I love OUaT’s take on Ariel, but this episode has the infamous Echo Cave scene, which involves a lot of feelsy confessions and Killian being the one to tell everyone that Neal is alive and helping Emma save him despite his own growing feelings for her.....IT’S JUST A LOT AND I LOVE IT.

3x07: Dark Hallow--oh man, I’d forgotten about this episode, but it has Killian and Neal fighting over Emma, which may sound eye-roll worthy, but Emma is allowed to tear them a new one about it and it’s one of the few times she’s allowed to actually???? put her own feelings first so I have to include it here on spec

3x11 and 3x12: Going Home and New York City Serenade--these mark the end of 3a and start of 3b respectively, and it has some amazing shit like Killian vowing never to forget Emma and Emma smiling as she replies, “Good.” And then she and Henry are in New York with their memories completely altered, but Killian shows up because Storybrooke is back and in jeopardy, and he helps Emma get back to her family and her home and, much later, Emma finds out he sold the Jolly Roger to be able to do it and it’s just. It’s beautiful ok.

3x17: The Jolly Roger--there’s honestly not a whole lot in the back half of season 3 (until the CS movie) but of course anything named for Hook is a must-watch, and this is where we get the iconic line I swear on Emma Swan--which is Killian saying he’s in love with her before he even realizes it. We also find out just what he did to Ariel, and his attempts to make amends are what lead to Zelena being able to curse him, so it’s great from a character perspective as well.

The next four episodes round out the end of the season, and there’s a lot of great stuff in them--Hook refusing to get Emma to kiss him, but Emma feeling like she can’t trust him because he didn’t tell her about the curse to begin with, and then kissing him anyway to save his life regardless of the consequences.... but the only ones that are absolutely necessary are the final two episodes.

They are colloquially termed ‘The Captain Swan Movie’ for a reason, after all.

Killian and Emma essentially have an entire Time Travel adventure all to themselves, where they accidentally ruin her parents first meeting and have to fix it so that she’ll even be born, Emma finally getting into the storybook, the pair of them dancing at a ball, Killian rushing to save Emma only for her to get out of the cell herself, because “The only one who saves me is me.” Killian saying “I would go to the ends of the world for her... or time.” Finally fixing the timeline and making it back to Storybrooke and Killian feeling like he doesn’t deserve a place at the table so he doesn’t go inside, but Emma comes out to him anyway and finds out he gave up the Jolly Roger for her, the true start to their relationship...... IM CRYING JUST THINKING ABOUT IT I’M SORRY.

I personally really enjoyed 4a, the Frozen arc was one of the last good half-season arcs of the show, but a lot of people disliked it so it’s really up to interpretation. I don’t have as many Intense Opinions on this season (except hating almost everything about 4b and the queens of darkness arc), but I will say the episodes with good Killian/CS moments are 4x02 (Emma nearly freezes to death, Killian is desperate to save her, Captain Charming teamwork, my heart hurts), 4x04 (Emma asks Killian out on a real date, he tries to get his real hand back from Gold, things go massively awry and he winds up back under Gold’s thumb), 4x08 (Killian tries to save Emma from Gold’s plans), 4x11 (the 4a finale is just great in general), and then..... it cannot be overstated how much I hate season 4b, but 4x15 is the Killian-centric ep where his past with Ursula is revealed and he makes amends to her in order to get her to leave the QoD alliance and it’s great character stuff for him, and then there’s the season 4 finale.

Both parts are worth watching, if only because Deckhand Coward Hook still being a braver, more heroic man than ‘Hero Rumplestiltskin’ warms the very cockles of my heart, and of course the second part of the finale has him helping Henry to save Emma and it’s beautiful and also Emma watches him die for her and it is angsty as FUCK but gods I love it. Here’s where it gets tricky, though--my recommendation is, turn the episode off right after Emma finds Killian back in the present day of Storybrooke and they reunite.

Just turn off the episode there and skip right ahead to the s6 musical episode (Emma and Killian’s wedding ep) and pretend they got married and none of seasons 5 or 6 ever happened. >.> (Although I will say certain parts of the Underworld arc were incredibly feelsy despite how much I overall hated the season: 5x11 (the 5a finale, Killian as the dark one STILL being a better man than rumple, we love to see it), 5x15 (I am not immune to Brothers Jones feelings ok), 5x20 (emma literally takes a True Love Test trying to find a way to save killian, you don’t get more romantic than that--also Killian telling Emma to promise she won’t put her armor back up just because she lost him again??? my HEART), 5x21 (Hook does what he can from the Underworld anyway and zeus sends him back to Emma, they really just said ‘today I will invent romance’ and then Did That)

And then, yeah, just skip to the wedding. It’s beautiful, I enjoyed the music, personally, though I know musical episodes are hit or miss with most people. And if you turn it off when the last musical number starts (after the wedding ceremony, I believe) you can pretend it was the end of the show! =DDD

.....Oh my god I just rambled for years. I HOPE YOU FIND THIS USEFUL, ANON. I 100% support a CS-centered rewatch, their episodes were consistently some of the best across the entire series, and they are truly one of my favorite romances of all time.

#ouat #captain swan #captain swan episode rec #asked #long post #Anonymous

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bruciewayne · 5 years ago

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stars hide your fires

stevetony, steve-centric, light angst, mostly fluff, 2k

Steve’s ten, and he’s known Bucky for a week.

They’re on his balcony at night, his first sleepover.

“The stars mean you can make a wish,” Bucky says, pointing up.

“What do you wish for?”

Bucky grins. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

It sounds logical to Steve, so he looks up and wishes that he and Bucky are friends forever, he wishes that all the things wring with him go away so he can play with the rest of the kids at recess and for the first time in his life, he really appreciates the stars. He makes his wishes and tells Bucky that the stars are pretty, and he, in turn, tells him about all the constellations he read about in his Pa’s book.

They carry on talking until they fall asleep, leaning on each other, warm in the summer eve.

Steve’s sixteen, halfway to handing Charon his silver coin, and staring out the window next to his bed. He hates the hospital with a passion, he’s spent far too much of his life stuck in here while his mother works just to keep him alive, and, not for the first time, he considers just giving up entirely, what’s the point, afterall, in a guy who has to fight all his life just to stay alive. According to the doctors, he’ll probably be dead by 25 anyway, 30, if he’s lucky, and he doesn’t want the next decade of his, and his Ma’s life to be spent just barely living.

He wishes to the stars dotted across the clear, dark skies that he has a quick and painless death, and for it to come fast, he wishes for his Ma and Bucky’s happiness - Lord knows he can’t give it himself.

He wishes and wishes and wishes and when he wakes up he knows for certain that God doesn’t exist. If He did, would He make Steve suffer so? Would He make his Ma suffer because of him? If he asked his Ma, she would tell him the story of Job once more, and tell him to have faith, and that’s how he knows that his Ma is so, so much better than him - she doesn’t give up, even when he’s been on his death bed so many times Hell is probably sick of it too (there’s no denying, no matter what Ma and Bucky say, he caused the people he loved to suffer, he’s going to Hell.).

He wakes up to the sun in his face and his Ma smiling down at him, relieved.

He’s eighteen and drunk, lying on top of his apartment building. He wants to see the stars, but the skies are cloudy, he wants to drink more, but the bottle’s empty and Bucky refuses to get more (it’s not like the stores are going to be open this late anyway).

He wants his Ma back.

The God he was taught about wouldn’t let a person like Sarah Rogers predecease someone like him, if He really existed, and everything still went the way it did, Steve thinks he would deck him again and again until all his bones were broken, and God would probably just laugh.

He imagines it, staring blankly up at starless, cloud-covered skies, speaking aloud, wishing for things that won’t come true.

He does the same the next day, and the next, until the week blurs together into one hazy mess of drinking and grey skies and tears

It’s a week after and he’s on the roof again, halfway through the bottle, when the sky starts crying with him. It’s devastating, loud, crashing against Steve and the cars below and the metal of the hang-overs of the stores, and Steve knows that he should go inside, lest he catches his death, but he can’t bring himself to, and just stays there, for hours probably, until the storm clears, and he’s probably sick, but finally, finally, he can see the stars, bright and glittering against the midnight blue sky.

He doesn’t wish for the impossible again.

I wish Ma rests well, God, if that’s the only thing you’ll ever do for me, let her rest well, please.

He’s twenty-one and they’ve declared war, and Steve can’t do anything about it, because he’s too damn weak, useless to even fight for his country. Those nights he wishes to the stars that he could do something, anything.

He’s twenty-five when a wish finally comes true, in the worst way possible.

They tell him that he’s doing something for his country, but he’s not. They’re using him as a performer, not a soldier.

He spends the nights wishing he could do more, be more, be enough.

And it’s not wishing that gets him away from it, it’s him actually doing something, it’s him who changes it, says ‘fuck you’ to General Phillips in the nicest way possible that doesn’t get him a dishonourable discharge.

He creates a team, a group. He gets to be so much more than he ever wished for.

They sit together in the firelight, making lewd images out of the stars, laughing and joking despite the horrors of the day, telling stories. They sleep next to the dying embers, under the stars, and for the first time, Steve Rogers isn’t unbearably lonely, nor is he a detriment to his peers, for the first time he thanks the stars (he’s given up on God entirely., but the stars are a nice replacement.)

He’s twenty-seven when he wishes again.

He’s in a blown-apart pub in Europe, wishing he could get drunk, wishing he was better, faster, smarter. Wishing and wishing and wishing until he’s so damn angry and sad he may as well be drunk.

He’s twenty-seven when he crashes the Valkyrie and dies, in the Arctic’s ‘summer’, when it’s months and months until the pole will see the stars.

He’s still twenty-seven, but it’s seventy years later, and aliens fall from the sky.

He’s twenty-seven (and also ninety-seven) when he thinks he sees his first falling star. Not a star, really, but a man in a metal suit. As he falls, he wishes that he lives.

It’s the first wish of this century that comes true.

Once again, he’s incredibly lonely. The team he’s been told to lead are fine, they’re ok, good people, strong people, but they’re not friends, Steve isn’t one of them, the way he was with the Howlies, Steve’s their CO, and they’re not in the trenches anymore, so there’s no real reason to make friends.

He spends a lot of time training, and at SHIELD, probably not enough sleeping, but he can’t-- he can’t wake up again and lose what little he has all over again. So he spends his nights stargazing.

The stars don’t change even though he can’t see many of them, the constellations he learned about so long ago, are still in the same place, though the man in the metal suit, Tony Stark, son of Howard, only in genes, really, and not much in anything else, tells him that they’re in a slightly different place, because of something called ‘red-shift’, but not enough to make it really significant.

“Unless you’re an astrophysicist,” Tony finishes, with a swig of his scotch, leaning over the railing parallel to Steve.

He’d pretty much ambushed Steve, he’d been on the roof, smoking, stargazing, when Tony had come up. He doesn’t hate it.

“Just a soldier,” Steve replies, smiling slightly, and Tony finishes the glass and goes back in after patting Steve on the shoulder, and Steve smokes two more cigarettes before he too tries to sleep.

The next morning, Steve finds a book on constellations, their origins and meanings, on his nightstand.

He’s twenty-eight, but sometimes he’ll joke about being ninety-eight.

Somehow, one of his favourite pastimes becomes stargazing with Tony. They’re equals now, not just him and Tony, but him and all the Avengers, and the new century isn’t as lonely as he once thought.

“Don’t you ever get bored?” Tony asks one night, looking up from his tablet.

“Of the stars?”

“They never change.”

Steve runs that over in his mind. He doesn’t go on the roof every day (turns out, sleeping is far more enjoyable when ice doesn’t flood one’s bones), and not for that long, but whenever he does, there’s half a chance that Tony might join him too, five minutes later with paperwork and two steaming mugs of coffee. A couple months ago, Tony put an actual table up here, and some chairs, he’d claimed that it was for himself, because his bones no longer enjoyed standing around in the cold, but Natasha had made a whip noise when Tony had mentioned it.

“They never change,” he parrots, as his answer. Tony harrumphs and glares at his tablet and Steve laughs, then laughs harder when Tony looks up to glare at him.

“What?” Steve says, still laughing, “You get tired of wishing?”

“You’re a five-year-old, Rogers,” Tony grumbles.

“Better than being fifty-five,” Steve quips, raising his eyebrows at Tony pointedly.

“Ohhhh FUCK you, Rogers, I’m younger than you!”

“You’re fifteen years older than me!”

Tony’s quiet for a second, processing that for the first time.

Finally, he says, “Nah.”

Steve looks at him in disbelief, “Nah?”

“Nah.”

Looking up at the sky, Steve wishes aloud, “I wish Tony believed he’s middle-aged.”

Tony grins at him, brighter than all the stars in the sky put together, “Won’t come true,” he says gleefully, “y’said it out loud.”

Steve, unable to think of anything better, grumbles back, “I’ll say you out loud,” which doesn’t have its intended effect at all.

“Oh yeah? You’ll be screaming my name huh?” Tony says, in that tone that makes Steve think, maybe he’s not just joking.

“You’d want that, wouldn’t you?” Steve says, matching his tone, teasing with an undercurrent of... something.

Tony just mutters something under his breath, which sounds suspiciously like “What am I gonna do with you, Rogers,” but Steve pretends that he has normal hearing and carries on with his drawing. The quiet isn’t lonely this time.

He’s thirty. Or a hundred.

He’s lucky.

He’s out of the city far enough that pollution doesn’t matter and he can see all the stars, properly and clearly and he makes a wish - something rare for him these days - and does something foolish.

And his best friend kisses him back.

Steve Rogers is thirty-one and, once again, halfway to handing Charon his silver coin, and there’s many things Tony’s willing to do for Steve, give him as many things as he wants, but this isn’t something he wants to fund, not if he can help it.

The doctors told him that he’s probably going to wake up, but not for at least a day, and he just has to go outside, the sight of Steve connected to so many tubes and machines, barely able to breathe on his own is too much for him. He stumbles out of the medbay to the elevator that’ll take him up to the roof.

He’s not a religious man, Howard had believed in science and science only, and his mom had told him that she’s been raised Catholic, and sometimes, in times of trouble, she’ll pray. He remembers seeing her clutching a cross pendant sometimes.

So he wishes on the stars instead, like Steve, regardless of how illogical wishing and praying are, fundamentally, but Steve had taught him that it meant hope, and by God, Tony could use all the hope and faith he could get.

He doesn’t dare say his wishes aloud, lest they become untrue, but stares, unblinkingly, at the night sky until his eyes are burning and he’s run out of promises and wishes he can make

They’re on the roof again, under the stars, again, and Steve makes another wish. He doubts it’s his last one, but it’s the only one he knows with a minimum of a hundred percent certainty is entirely futile, because he knows the outcome, because he knows what will happen, he knows that he doesn’t need to ask the ineffable forces above for help, but he wants to, just in case.

Tony says yes before he even gets down on one knee.

They don’t get married under the stars, because that’s utterly absurd, and Tony refuses to be mugged on his wedding day, but they do dance, long after everyone’s left, in the starlight. The sky is clear and beautiful, but neither groom looks up, nor cares, nor dares to look away from his husband, they have all they could ever wish for, after all.

happy steve bingo masterpost

#steve rogers x tony stark #stevetony #stony #stony fic #stevetony fic #steve rogers #tony stark #my fic #my writing #happy steve bingo #happystevebingo #happystevebingo2019 #maybe the title is a macbeth reference.#maybe its maybelline

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 4 years ago

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HypMic 7 - 9 | Maou-jou 5 - 6 | Akudama Drive 6 - 8 | I7 s2 6 - 9 | Taiso Samurai 5 - 6

HypMic 7

I will never not laugh at the content advisory, haha.

I like Kazuha already. Too bad he’s probably evil…

Oh, is it the day of the DRB in the series already…? Or maybe, because it’s the qualifiers, BB and MTC’s match is on a different day to FP and MTR’s.

Oh? Does Tom know Jakurai well enough to call him “Jakurai-sensei”? (<- middle ground between “Jinguji-sensei/Sensei” and “Jakurai��) Also, Tom uses “ore”.

Ooh, Iris is a motorbike rider, eh? Interesting. I thought they (<- not sure if Iris is a “she” or “he” with a really weird name) were more of a Saburo-type and didn’t bother with things like that, based on their appearance. Update: Someone on Yahoo Answers said based on Iris’s watashi, she is a woman.

Typo fixed! Good job, anime staff! Update: I’m referring to “…darkest hour is just before the down” (sic).

…bukkorosu = “f***in’ slaughter ‘em”. It’s not wrong…it’s just the subbers really like to abuse the F word for MTC. But you knew that already if you got this far…right?

LOL, Ramuda wants to “scratch [Rex’s] back” (figuratively) to…get SNS views? Hahaha.

This Studio Alita is probably a reference to Shinjuku Alta.

Yotsutsuji!!! That was the one big spoiler I got before watching the episode today and I’m so happy I got to see him animated!

(One of) Irihatoma and Degarashi refer to Jakurai as “Jakurai-sensei” as well. Hmm, I never noticed. Update: That’s Degarashi, because Irihatoma speaks to Jakurai alone later this ep.

There’s 50% chance I’m getting this wrong, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say Kazuha is voiced by a veteran VA…one I already know about.

Doppo calls Kazuha by his first name…That upgrade means their relationship escalated quickly (or this is a quirk of HypMic in general, since I noticed most characters are on first name basis with each other). Also, it’s cute Doppo finally has someone in his corner. No other part of the franchise has one, to my memory. Update: It might actually be “Kazuha-kun”…but I’m still surprised though. Update 2: It’s both, actually.

I’ve listened to the phrase “some random guy” several times from Hifumi’s mouth and all I can figure out is the “yatsu” at the end. (Doesn’t help my ears blocked themselves up again, although it’s less than it used to be.)

Harumi Wharf.

R? On a helicopter landing pad?

…uh oh. I was right when I thought Kazuha was going to be evil. Also, Doppler shift/effect. Update: “Doppler” is clearly a pun on “Doppo”.

Hmm? “Hey, Doppo” from “yaa”…it doesn’t have a name referred in there. It’s a small but odd thing to do. (I remember a professional translator was complaining that people with intermediate Japanese were giving them flak for translating things “wrong”, but what I do here is analysis for my future and edificiation. I’m not here to knock down pro translators’ doors and demand a refund, because I’m trying to go pro to atone for my sins as a scanlator.)

The soundtrack’s slightly sinister tone, plus the fact I figured the culprit well before Doppo did, makes me slightly scared…for MTR.

I realised they skimped on the budget…this “hot off the car chase” line seems more like an MTC line, doesn’t it…?...Yeah, it’s almost word for word for MTC in DRB+. Maybe the subbers rushed and used this translation (this link I put here) rather than their actual lyrics…? I will have to get to the bottom of this. Update: Turns out the translation is slightly different, but…yes, there is reference to a car chase in the start of Shinjuku Style. (Sorry, I don’t know every lyrics of every song off the top of my head.)

…wow, this got really Doppo-centric. I’ve never seen the leader relinquish their position when it comes to “leading into battle” before. It just goes to show the staff really do pay attention to how popular Doppo is.

Note “Doppo” means “walk alone”, roughly speaking, hence the “solitary” line.

This song is very, very faithful to its original lyrics, because I was trying to look at Hifumi’s “mixing paint” line and it pretty much matches.

Hifumi’s “my men”, LOL.

Kazuha = “one leaf”, hence the “leaves” in one of Jakurai’s lines.

I cringe every time I hear screaming coming from this episode, y’know…?

…oh dear. MTC’s plot actually bled into MTR’s.

I already knew from browsing Twitter earlier today that Kizuna was going to become FP’s today, but hearing it is another matter entirely.

Kosuke Miyoshi is Kazuha. Apparently, this guy also voiced Mashirao Ojiro (the tail guy) from BnHA, but that’s his only major role…so I was right in that I knew him, but wrong in that he was, again, a relative rookie in comparison to most.

Apparently FP’s sign is a peace sign sideways to represent an F, but…it’s just a sideways peace sign to me…

…how is Dice’s bead ornament attached to him? Is it on his hair, on his ear, on the skin behind his ear…? I was trying to replicate his outfit and got stuck on how to represent it, so I ended up opting for trying (and failing) to do a small braid on the right side.

IWGP shows up this season…it’s the song with the “hoo!” noise BB perform in this episode.

LOL, “Dead men tell no tales” is a perfect saying for MTC.

Akudama 6

Is there a movie called “Brother”…? There’s apparently one that’s the plural of that, but not that itself.

If HypMic likes the F bomb, then Akudama like the S word.

I-Is it just me or is the choreography sped up at some points in this episode…? It’s a bit disorienting to come back to.

I thought the kid was a robot…but close enough.

Oh no! Why does the teacher always have to die for the student to become stronger???

Kairaku/shugi -> pleasure/doctrine (if I didn’t somehow misunderstand the shark’s kanji combo),

The part after the ED looks a little too long…keep watching.

The Japanese says “Lost Children”, but the English says “The City of Lost Children”, probably referring to this French sci-fi film.

I7 s2 6

I like how Gaku is taking special offence to Yamato’s comments about him being a playboy.

Re:vale-san. I never noticed until now.

“I’m already looking forward to it.” That’s how I would translate Tsumugi’s “I’m already excited”.

“…who could possibly complain?” – I think Mitsuki might.

The pun in the MEZZO show is that tai (group/squad) sounds the same as tai (want to ~). Rabbinsta is obviously Instagram + Rabbit (Chat?).

Oh my gosh! It’s the Yotsuba sister!

Mitsuki’s shopping trip OST is nice, man. This piano.

This episode has a really great sense of danger and foreboding for the future.

I7 s2 7

Perfection Gimmick. Never heard it in the anime before.

Even the ramen house’s name is a play on “Idolish7”.

LOL, Yamato sure turned that comment around.

The sign talking about beer says something about coupons below it. (It went by too fast and my CR app’s kinda fiddly, so I can’t really go back…)

Kimi to Ai na Night (pun on Idolish7, aka “AiNana”, again).

Mitsuki, no one hates you! You’re just imagining it all!

I7 s2 8

Momo hugely resembles Sasara, right down to the highlights on the hair…

“…you’re so handsome…” – I’m dying on the inside here, people! *laps up the BL pandering with a derpy smile on my face*

Banri and Tsumugi haven’t been focussed on lately…they’re clearly doing something regarding Banri’s ties with Re:vale, but I can’t quite figure out what that “something” is.

Why is there a basketball and a football in the back of the Takanashi office…?

Please don’t run in heels, Tsumugi…

“I love Idolish7!” - Ah, despite my quibbles, Tsumugi is good after all.

“making one’s best exertions” – Why do those words on the cup worry me a bit…?

Isn’t “I’m watching you” a creepy statement…?

Apparently Tamaki’s symbol is mp (mezzo pianissimo), hence Sougo’s words.

…my gosh! Aya’s foster father is Kujou?!

I7 s2 9

If I heard it right, Tenn’s line was “I can be your idol”, not “your prince”.

“Older Izumi” - …ah, poor Mitsuki.

“Damn you, sexy beast…” – LOL!

…aw, I think this is the first time my heart has been lightened by Tsunashi’s laugh. He’s a good boy.

The chibis…I’m still trying to get used to them…

As a song once said, “You can’t please everyone so you just gotta please yourself.” (Blah blah blah, something about garden parties…)

Takao what now???...okay, Takao Dayuu.

…You’re lucky that wasn’t Tenn doing Takao Dayuu. It would’ve been very “Gentaro does his courtesan voice” if it was.

Nagi doesn’t overpronounce things as much in this season. It’s…pleasant, actually. Give me more of that.

Nagi’s “Oh my god!” was hilarious.

Taiso 5

Ra (ら) and ro (ろ) look kinda similar in hiragana.

Even without the audio, I can guess the words were “yarubeki koto” (things you should do) -> shachihoko.

The texts are written in gyaru-moji. Gyaru-moji is basically indecipherable to anyone who doesn’t know how it works – kind of like the common teen vernacular, to be honest (LOL…?) – and so the subs actually kind of ruin the confusingness of it all, but they did slightly better when they went “UR”.

Movie shiritori! But…has it really been half a year since Leo started? I feel slightly robbed about that plotline with the Men in Black right now…(then again, HypMic is just as bad about important plotlines, if not worse, so…I’m going to be patient and not complain.)

July 5th…Rei is a Cancer…?

They’re…finally moving on this Men in Black plotline! I only complained two points ago! Thank you, staff, for listening to my complaints (…?).

Moon Land finished recently, so I wonder if I’ll lose interest in this anime from here on out…? There was a Pommel Horse Prince in that.

Moon Land taught me that gymnastics has a lot of skills named after their creators, much like the Aragaki previously. The score is out of 10 for both D (difficulty) and E (execution), meaning a 20 is the best you can do, but the judges can get really picky...

The word for “vault” literally means “leaping/jumping horse”…makes sense.

Some of these names are names I’m familiar with from Moon Land already…but I never remember what the skills look like.

…welp, Leo just proved he really is a ninja after all.

Dr Stone’s s2 had its ED announced to be “Koe?” by Hatena and “Yume?” here really makes a theme…does Hatena give all their song titles question marks on the end?

Taiso 6

Colour gangs? Like in IWGP?

It’s nice to see they’re (Jotaro and Rei) communicating properly for the first time in possibly this entire anime.

On the wall, that thing is an evacuation map…of some sort.

…I’ve always wondered: if a bird eats chicken, does that count as cannibalism?

This is like thw Makkachin incident all over again (in YoI).

“…there’s no reason for you to grin and bear it.”

…Leo and Jotaro, both are so dense! Boys *shakes head*.

BB? More like ET (LOL)!

Maou-jou 5

…I didn’t even notice the cast was all dudes bar the princess at this point.

Tatakau Onnatachi. It could mean “fighting women” or “female warriors”.

I’m still vaguely pissed that Kirito is here under my nose…darn Demon King!!!

One of the harpy’s recent worries was that she wanted to become friends with the princess…That’s kinda cute…

Didn’t Syalis already get the coffin that one time? Or did it get confiscated?

*eyes sparkle* Cloud…I’d like to sleep on a cloud…*dreamy look on face* Cloud.

This is basically Princess, ‘Tis Time for Torture in reverse.

Is it “make do” or “make due”…?

I don’t think I need to explain the joke where the harpy is happy.

Gendo pose!

I wonder if the bed or the sheets will talk to her (Syalis) someday?

Maou-jou 6

The New Gearbolt’s quote is “guruguru dokkan”, which is just a bunch of sound effects. It would translate to something like “whir-whir-thud”.

Underwear episodes are some of the worst episodes ever…they’re so juvenile…I dropped at least one series based on the underwear episode alone.

Ah! The seal on the ice monster’s shoulder! Too cute!

How can a mechanical princess mecha (…thing?) have worries?

LOL, never underestimate the hilarity of the teddy demons ganging up on the Demon King.

I like how the Japanese pointed out the demons only moved the princess.

HypMic 8

I thought the robberies were Kazuha’s doing…? Or is this a separate case?

Samatoki answering his phone with his feet up…LOL, there’s just something funny about it. It shows he’s just so badass, he can get away with it.

Riou’s hacking (?) skills come to the fore again. (Or is that listening to enemy intel?)

Ooh, Iris is sassy. I love her already.

…er, Samatoki? Blowing cigarette smoke into Jyuto’s face is just rude…

“…don’t hang up your gloves.” – Considering Jyuto has his red gloves…LOL.

What the heck is that backing track when the 2nd car moved out? That’s a cool track.

Ah! Iris is a Saburo-type…LOL, Saburo’s fake identity.

“a cop who’s in with the yakuza” - Wow, way to diss your own teammate, Samatoki.

For a guy who was only just in the water, Riou doesn’t even look wet.

“2 DIE 4” – Hmm? So did the anime staff know what Riou’s 2nd round song title was at the time…? Update: Judging by the name “Requiem” dropped in the next episode, I would say yes.

“…f*** the police…” - Wow, way to diss your own teammate, Samatoki. X2

Hmm? In Riou’s rap bit near the end, he goes “mad warrior” and that rhymes (in a very loose way of speaking) with “Mad Trigger”. The English didn’t keep that.

I remember seeing a spoiler which said that line (the one about slaves)…but seriously, Jyuto is such a “sexy revenge cop” (as someone once said – I think it might be Slug, or an anon to Slug) that literally nothing else seems to matter about him.

Why do they subtitle the laughing??? I still have no idea.

“Sgt. Iruma”? The guy just says “Iruma-san”. Is he a sergant or some other rank? Update: Yes. (As in, he is a sergant.)

I’ve never actually seen Ramuda sleep in a bed before, come to think of it. Does he not have a bed?

I would assume Gentaro is going…but he said he won’t be going, then negated that and then negated it again. Unless the 2nd time was him admitting it was a lie the first time…is he going or not???

“shinsetsu no human” – (Spoilers for later on/manga)…Yes, that’s actually what Ramuda says. It’s as if Ramuda subtly admits, right there, he isn’t human.

Nodo = throat…If this were translated more literally, it would sound pretty clunky.

“…rappa no inochi…paa!” – Yep, the subbers got the gist of the joke there.

Dice is basically a worm at this point…He’s squirming like one, anyway.

That “number of pips facing up” thing has got to be foreshadowing for something, y’know? Nothing in a story ever goes to waste. Also, it’s likely the dice are weighted or something…

…yep, there you go.

That voice Gentaro used for “I despise lies” was amusing…because it’s so different to his normal voice, and because Gentaro is a serial liar.

The 2nd song…which I already know is called “JACKPOT” from browsing Twitter earlier today…was a bunch of fun.

Udagawacho.

Hmm…emphasis on the candy. I wonder what that means? (<- already knows, I just want to keep it a secret from you, dear reader, if you don’t know it too)

ANIME SHOP is so clearly a pun on Animate, including the colours, that I can’t even…LOL.

FP’s Kizuna sounds distinctly different to the others…probably because of Ramuda. It’s mostly Ramuda carrying the tune there.

“Life is what you make it.” – Hmm, an interesting quote for sure.

HypMic 9

…welp, they don’t call it Fling Posse for nothin’.

I didn’t believe my ears, so I went and listened to it again. Sure enough, Ichiro calls Jakurai -san, not -sensei.

Ramuda’s normal voice! Things are getting serious~!

“Hifuming”? Is that a deliberate choice on the translators’ part? Or is it a mishearing?

…I’m laughing at how Samatoki called Ichiro a “hypocritical piece of s***”. I know the “s***” part is correct at minimum from the audio.

I believe Samatoki said -san, not -sama when he asked for an honorific. Hmm, interesting.

I knew this would get animated, but…I still can’t believe I’m watching it! Amazing…absolutely amazing.

If you’re wondering…yes, that long thing is her entire title and name. It’s said the name “Kadenokouji” is the longest Japanese surname in existence.

I remember reading a tweet earlier today that said somebody wanted “Altercation! Altercation! Altercation!” as a song title…and now I LOL, because the subbers made Gentaro say the exact same word.

Hmm…I only just noticed BB are the only ones with bags. They probably came last, but who took the others’ bags into Chuoku…? Update: Some of the others did have bags, I just never spotted them. For instance, Riou is carrying a large black rectangular bag, but Samatoki and Jyuto don’t have any. Jakurai has the bag from his TDD days.

The 2nd DRB brackets got announced today. BB vs DH, MTR vs BAT, FP vs MTC, rolling out across Japan (and Japan only due to COVID) in 2021.

“What happened between you and him?” - I was going “who?” in Cantonese (as I sometimes do), but turns out they’re just referring to Samatoki.

This is exactly as it played out in the drama tracks and manga…exactly what I was waiting for all this time! So good, dangit!

LOL, in the future, we will have camera drones working our concerts like they do in the DRBs…I think (?)

I wonder what Dice is thinking right now, seeing Otome on the screen…hmm…

…gah! Airhorn! Airhorn to the ears! *tilts to side due to sound*

I still kind of remember Slug’s take on the final battle…”The popo? More like the poopoo!” (or something like that). *sniggers*

The little barking bit after Jiro’s verse was…kinda cute, actually.

…ow, these are some burn-ass words. See? This is the power of the DRB!

…eh? Riou’s mic has his MC name on it. Don’t think I’ve seen that in any other part of the series.

Hoh, Riou even made references to Saburo’s character songs.

You can see “Hc” on Samatoki’s mic too…probably another case of his MC name, but partially obscured by his hand.

Aw, “Samatoki no sabaku toki” is a good lyric. Why couldn’t you try to keep that, instead of translating it literally to “judgement day for Samatoki”?

You can hear a thumping beat in the background when Samatoki prepares himself. That seems to be a similar way to how ARB treats this stuff.

“I’m THE Samatoki” – “Samatoki-sama da”.

I think it was really cool to show Samatoki handing the song over to Riou, but it also indicates there’s a disjunct in the lyrics that would cause such a thing. From this, maybe Riou is MTC’s weak link…?

Skeletons with katanas! Is that not cool?!?

…hey, that joined words thing Ichiro does…I would assume that’s what Rhyme Strike looks like in the HypMic universe?

Notice Samatoki took the word “signal” from Ichiro’s part and put it into his own one.

“Today is a good day to die.” – *eyes bulge* Oh…gosh. What a quote. Update: Someone theorised Ichijiku wrote these titles (the last 2), but someone else – like me – theorised this quote was what FP and M fans thought for this battle.

Akudama 7

…that’s one twisted kid.

Never threaten to kill a kid who can regenerate far better than you, Hoodlum.

Brawler is still in the OP…it’s kind of saddening to see him now.

I noticed a certain character appears on the Executioners’ hands if you pause at the right moment in the OP. It’s the first character in shori (management).

Bunny: set meal/Shark: roasted meat (yakiniku)

…This sounds a heck of a lot like the genbaku dome (Hiroshima Peace Park).

Bunny and Shark’s shirts together: Idiot -> Shark: Bone

Actually, this also reminds me of the Osaka Expo held in 1970. I loved writing about that event – it was just so fun to write about.

This anime is like Appare-Ranman’s sequel, except without the racing and crazy racial stereotypes (although there are still crazy stereotypes).

…whoa! This scene is going on the end of year list for sure. Just…have to remember this scene, where all the children disappeared, exists.

…”The City of Lost Children” is an apt title for this episode.

(HypMic spoilers!) I wonder if they’ll reveal that Ramuda is a clone in what’s left of the HypMic anime?

…oof, Doctor’s a filthy traitor!

Rule number 1 of fighting: never yell out “Smokescreen!” when the smokescreen is meant to cover you.

…LOL, dark censorship bar. Please wait for the Blu-Rays to see this scene uncensored.

What the heck?! The countdown went from 7 to 0 so fast!

Akudama 8

Black Rain, huh? *checks* It’s a movie about a pair of New York policemen who have to save a Japanese gangster from his death.

…don’t jinx it, Swindler!

Your brother isn’t on the moon, Sister. It’s just your dreams on there.

Notice “Neo Lake Biwa” actually has “Reiku” in its name, as opposed to, say, “mizuumi” or “ike” (the Japanese equivalent).

You can still see where Doctor stitched herself up.

What did Doctor “hold on to”?

Way to monologue through the whole morality thing… (<- not as satisfied as they would like from this scene)

I wonder if the seal is electronically tracked…

Tsubo = pot, vase…*thinks about drugs* (Not that pot.)

“…I’ll make you into a real man.” – More like a eunuch, LOL. (partially sarcastic)

I recall from Sarazanmai that “pair look” is the term for “twinsies” in Japanese.

Oh! Swindler kind of looks like the Executioner Boss now.

…I find it ironic that Swindler had long hair up until not too long ago.

Can to the eye! Ouch! That’s gotta be worse than a lightsaber…er, jitte to the eye!

This makes me wonder…was Courier a rich kid once…?

#simulcast commentary #hypnosis mic #HypMic #hypnosis mic -division rap battle- rhyme anima #Akudama Drive #taiso samurai #Maou-jou de Oyasumi #sleepy princess in the demon castle #idolish7 second beat #Chesarka watches HypMic #Chesarka watches Akudama Drive #Chesarka watches Taiso Samurai #Chesarka watches Maou-jou #Chesarka watches I7

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desudesuanimu · 6 years ago

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bisexual Joey

Ok, I can’t deny that this is totally random and I’m working with some 3am thoughts here but I have to put it out there.

Please, note that this isn’t anti Joey and Mai as a couple (Polarshipping?) so please no hate tagging.

While I do not like Joey and Mai as a couple I don’t exactly hate it either and it’s most likely to be canon / become canon? And I love Mai as a character! This isn’t about this ship but I wanted to start with this because I absolutely hate fights over couples and fictional characters in general.

Anyway, I rewatched all Yu-Gi-Oh DM episodes (English dub because I don’t understand much Japanese) and I noticed a few things.

I only rewatched the show because I recently started watching Vrains and felt nostalgic, so I didn’t exactly do research. Also, I’m not an expert on bisexuality but that’s not the point either.

When I was watching the Joey centric episodes or scenes I noticed that while there are a lot of subtle (or less subtle) hints that Joey and Mai have at least some kind of romantic/ flirtatious feelings for each other but there’s also always a scene involving Seto fucking Kaiba!

And I know that this could be a coincidence and I may be crazy but it happened all the time, except for like a few scenes that focus solely on Joey and Mai.

Best example is the prominent dream or hallucination in Joey’s duel against Odion when he’s in a class room and all of his friends are there to help him get up but Kaiba is there too and whilst he insults Joey as usual it just confused me why he would be there in the first place?

Either he’s so heavy on Joey’s mind (as a rival or potential friend) or this is just because they actually went to the same class for some time.

But then again when Joey battles Kaiba in the Battle City arc he compares Kaiba’s aloof attitude with how he used to be and literally says:” inside I’ve felt alone.” and “Trust me, you need friends.” and I thought this was very interesting because if he doesn’t care at all why bother?

But not only does he challenge an obviously frustrated Kaiba who is moping because he just lost to Yugi (again) but he also tries to get trough to him several times. For example when he says that the duel is fun and Kaiba should relax and enjoy it.

Again, this is just my interpretation but it really seemed like Joey wanted to distract Kaiba. He tried to actually make him realize his faults because maybe, just maybe he wants him to be a part of their ‘gang’. He did invite Kaiba to play duel monsters with them in the first episode but is then insulted by Kaiba and gets super upset about it. I get that this was a dick move and Joey has a short temper but if a person would be this rude to me I’d just ignore them. Especially, if I didn’t even know them before! So, why does he want to prove himself to Kaiba?

Joey also knew that Kaiba was more likely to win despite him improving because he even admits that he may not win their next duel but that he’ll get there some day. Was this duel Joey’s way of trying to cheer up Kaiba? Who knows? I mean, he could’ve just left or rub in Yugi’s victory but he didn’t.

Another scene was the illusion in Noah’s virtual world when Mai asks Joey to ‘settle down’ and ‘stop dueling’ and Joey refusing because one he realizes that this couldn’t be the real Mai since she’s still in a coma and two because he really loves duel monsters. But this is before the battle with Kaiba and I think that beating Kaiba is a big goal for Joey. Wether it is romantic, stubbornness or just determination but Joey does focus on Kaiba heavily. I just remembered that Joey dreams about Mai a second time (or maybe that was before the virtual world?) and in the scene before that he talks in his sleeps and says something like: “Who are you calling a monkey boy, Kaiba?”

WHY DOES HE ALWAYS HAVE DREAMS STARRING KAIBA?????

It’s not just Joey either! Kaiba accepts Joey’s first challenge in Battle City rather quickly but then leaves for the Egyptian god card and when he’s challenged again he refuses at first but in the end does agree to duel Joey. He says that it’s such a waste of his time but agrees to do it anyway? Maybe it’s just his ego but you get the point.

When Mokuba and Seto buy that fancy sports car (one of my favorite scenes btw) Kaiba thinks that he senses that ‘Wheeler is in trouble again’ but then says that he has no time to help him. Why think about helping him in the first place if he’s so worthless?

Last but not least it is kinda symbolic that both Kaiba and Joey favor their Dragons which means they at least share that much. I know that there are a lot of dragons in YuGiOh but the two clearly represent two of the most popular ones.

People often complain about a potential relationship between Joey and Kaiba being too unhealthy or unrealistic and while I agree that they would never be an overly romantic, sappy couple because let’s face it: Kaiba is too messed up to actually deal with any kind of feelings, I don’t think that they would make a bad match.

Mai seems to be more aware of her feelings towards Joey and she is more grown up than some of the characters but she also did a few things that really messed Joey up and she felt bad about it but then realizes that these were so bad that she can’t face him any time soon. I have to add that I didn’t like the whole arc all that much because I think Mai’s character was poorly portrayed.

In a weird way Kaiba and Mai have a lot of things in common and maybe the creators decided not to make Mai and Joey canon because they play with the thought of Joey being bisexual. It would totally suit his personality and the way he acts towards the other characters in the show. Originally, the manga was a lot darker and dealt with psychological issues such as Joey’s father gambling and Joey trying to pay the depts. So, exploring sexualities and complex relationships don’t seem that far off.

I’m aware that this isn’t proven and maybe it really is just the bad writing of the show because I think that most of us can agree that the Yu-Gi-Oh series generally doesn’t handle romance very well but I do think that there could be more behind these ideas if one thinks about it.

I apologize for this very long and probably very unnecessary post but it felt good to write down these crazy conspiracies.

Finally, I can say that no matter what we ship in the Yu-Gi-Oh-verse is completely up to us and we could find hints for almost every ship and that’s good. I love thinking about (possibly) gay characters, so that’s what my brain focuses on without me being able to control it.

Have a great day and never forget that...

YOU STILL TAKE DAMAGE!

#ygo #ygo dm #kaiba x joey #seto kaiba x jounouchi katsuya #joey wheeler #seto kaiba #yu gi oh #yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #thougths #conspiracy theory #its 3am #ishouldsleep #butimthinkingaboutgayboys #seto x joey #kaijou #therearetoomanyshipnames

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leoames · 5 years ago

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luke hemmings. male. he/him. ／ leo ames just pulled up blasting ain’t no feeling by elley duhe. — that song is so them! you know, for a twenty-two year old songwriter / producer, i’ve heard they're really -distant, but that they make up for it by being so +witty. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say dried flowers, smoke filled rooms, and green velvet. here's to hoping they don't cause too much trouble! ( mads, 26, cst, she/her ) like this or message me if any of the plots sound good / you want to chat / you want to plot something else out! i’m super stoked to be here.

hey fam! i haven’t rp’d on tumblr in ages, so bear with this old lady as she gets back into the swing of things :p i’ve been playing leo for a few years though... so get ready~

BIO POINTS (cw - death, drugs)

- leo is the son of a management king - william ames, II and deborah ames. his mother was the brightest light and the kindest woman you’d have ever met. his father has always been incredibly wealthy ( thanks - william ames, I! ) and incredibly angry. - he has an older sister, emerson, who is 23 and an influencer. he doesn’t know what that even means. - when leo was young, he was always musically inclined - his mother and sister, too. they were just a very music centric family. - he learned to play the following instruments at the following ages: piano (8), guitar (10), and drums (16). his mother also made him take dance and voice lessons. - at age 14, leo’s sister had a piano recital. on their way to the recital, he and his mother were in a car accident. the accident resulted in the death of deborah ames and the heartbreak of the rest of the family. - soon after their beloved mother’s death, the family moved to new york city - william receiving a new job that only further increased the ames’s wealth. it was within six months that daddy warbucks remarried. and another six before he was divorced from leo’s first step mom. - while in high school, leo got into a lot of trouble with drugs, with school, and with girls. he was the epitome of a player and was easily able to woo girls into his bedroom with the help of music. he is still very blase about drugs and alcohol, acting like he’s just fine when... maybe ( read: definitely ) they’re a crutch. - leo decided to pursue songwriting around age nineteen, much to his father’s dismay. he’s been extremely successful at it, thanks to some great networking - though, his first big job was given to him because of his father, he doesn’t know that. everything since then has been all him. - when leo finally moved out on his own, his father remarried once more to a woman a year younger that leo himself. needless to say, this didn’t help leo’s heart heal in any way. - leo works with some big names in music to help write and produce their songs and is getting increasingly popular in the industry.

PERSONALITY / AESTHETIC POINTS

- leo is the definition of a dirtbag. he treats women like they’re toys and often keeps to himself about the reasons why. in fact, he doesn’t really open up at all. to anyone. - though his innate nature is cold, he’s exceptionally witty and easy going - when he talks. - leo is quiet, often brooding in the corner of the room with a pencil tucked behind his ear and humming a song he’s working on. he’s often in skinny jeans and a leather jacket, no matter the temperature. - he’s easy to work with, creative as hell, and enjoys nothing more than the look on someone’s face when they love his ideas. - getting him to smile is difficult, so if you can... you know you’re in.

PLOTS / RELATIONSHIPS

- best friend. this is probably someone in the music industry who has known him since he moved to the states. someone who makes him laugh and knows almost everything about him but doesn’t spill it to anyone. - friends. people he parties with, chills with, smokes weed with, etc. these are likely people who don’t judge him for smoking cigarettes, drinking too much, and being an overall asshole of a human. - people he’s written with&for / produced for. [ tahnee, x, x, x ] anyone who has worked with him as a musician and wrote songs with him. - sister. eventually, i’d love for someone to bring in his sister emerson. she’s demure and sweet, won’t touch a piano or anything music related since her mother’s death. leo hates her and blames her for his mother dying. - will they / won’t they? [ camila ] leo and camila have been flirting publicly and even seen together publicly but they refuse to acknowledge it to the media. they might not even know what they are but it’s clear they’re more than friends. - ex [ eloise ] leo is fluid, so he’ll date anyone. i’d love for this to be someone he genuinely thought that he would end up with, but they broke his heart. someone who folded him into himself even more by leaving. - ex. [ alexis ] leo and alexis dated for a while and, unfortunately, during that time, leo cheated on her constantly. he isn’t exactly sorry about it and they’re... not on great terms. - fuck buddies. [ samira, x, x ] he probably has 2-3 of these. i’m fine from anything ranging from the person having a heavy crush on him to really using him just the way he’s using them. - enemies / ex casual sex partners. i mean, he’s kind of a dickhole, so feel free to throw these at me too! people he used to sleep with, maybe went on a few dates with. people who just hate him because he stole their gig maybe?

#excessintro #( oh no this is a lot more than i meant to type! )#( hit me up fam )#about leo

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years ago

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For the prompt post: I wish you would write a fic where... Something more Geoff-centric! I feel like he gets set in the background of so many fics when his FAHC character has the potential to be so interesting. I would love a more shippy fahc fic with him and Gavin, (angst/suspense is always good) but Tbh my little Geoff-loving heart would be content with anything from you. Especially with how much i fucking live for your AO3 stories. I have read them all. Some several times lol.

I adore Geoff and agree with you 1000% friend! (Also, thank you so much!

Geoff hears about these kids, right? Some British bastard with sticky fingers and a clever tongue and his guard dog. This Jersey bastard with a hell of a temper on him and how the hell they even work is a miracle because by all accounts this Jones kid hates the British kid with a passion. Cannot fucking stand him and at first Geoff thinks this Free kid must have something on him, something important because that’s how these things work.

As time goes by he keeps hearing about these kids. The way Free can talk himself out of anything – and has, got pinched by the cops and sweet-talked his way out of that one. Got into trouble with some of the smaller crews – and came out of it with new allies or by the end of things Los Santos would short one miserable little crew.

The more he hears about them, the more he wants them working for him. So he sets up meets with them, gets Lindsay and Trevor on it and Gavin and Michael say no and no and no over and over again.

Geoff thinks it’s them being young and stupid for the longest time until he realizes one day listening to Trevor tell him about something Gavin and Michael did that they’re terrified of being part of a crew.

He knows they came to Los Santos from the east coast so he reaches out to Burnie, asks if he ca find anything out about them. And boy does Burnie deliver, because it turns out that Gavin and Michael used to be a crew, worked for this piece of shit who thought he was meant for greatness.

Ran his crew on fear, and no one knows where he picked Gavin up, but the guy saw what an asset he had in him. Smart and clever and as long as Gavin was useful he got to live. And then came Michael with the same rule – be useful or die – and somehow they became friends.

Besties, even, which worked out for their boss because it meant Gavin had someone watching his back on job who was less likely to kill him themselves.

But then something went wrong, or right, depending on how you look at it because Gavin and Michael wanted out. Wanted to get away from that piece of shit and his crew and everything to do with him, and they were ruthless about it.

Set things up so the piece of shit and his crew were destroyed, ripped apart by greedy rivals while Gavin and Michael got the hell out of the city. Ran until they hit Los Santos and set up shop and Burnie warns him to leave them alone, that the risk isn’t worth it, and Geoff laughs, thinking it’s a joke because the Fake AH Crew can handle a couple of kids – and Burnie just sighs because of course Geoff isn’t going to listen.

Eventually though, Gavin realizes Geoff’s just going to keep coming after them and maybe one day he’ll stop being nice about it, so.

A meeting, where Geoff makes them an offer. Work with the Fakes on a job, get to know them and if they like what they see maybe stick around?

Gavin and Michael agree to that much, make no promises because they’re understandably leery of being trapped again when it cost them so much to get free the last time.

But they end up sticking around after that first job because they like the crew and it’s mutual. Michael and Jeremy get along like a house on fire (sometimes this is literal because there are houses on fire and those two asshole responsible for it).

Gavin seems to be getting along with everyone, and Geoff won’t lie, it’s a little terrifying that he and Ryan are suddenly BFFs, going down to the shooting range to bond over throwing knives (WHY), but it’s obvious they don’t quite trust the crew.

Which.

Geoff has faith they just need to give it time, let Gavin and Michael see for themselves what the Fakes are like and let them decide what they want.

Until then, he figures it won’t hurt to teach Gavin a few things here and there and takes him along for crew business. (Might gain some little bit of Gavin’s trust in the process.)

Let him get a feel for how the Fakes work and how they deal with allies and enemies and all that. (Because Geoff likes Gavin, and he knows right off that Gavin’s top priority is Michael and vice versa, this unlikely friendship that somehow came into being in the worst circumstances.)

They talk, a lot. At first it’s business, how to get what they want in negotiations without giving more than they can afford. They plan jobs, a heist or two and Gavin is brilliant.

Unconventional, sure, but brilliant.

Time goes by and personal details get mixed in with business talk. They spend long hours together with their planning sessions so they order out. Sit around eating take out and mention some small bit of information about themselves, favorite movies. Shows. Video games, and so on.

Sometimes they don’t talk business at all, because Geoff can’t believe Gavin hasn’t seen this movie, and Gavin can’t believe Geoff hasn’t seen that show. It’s been years since either of them played this game, so clearly they have to play it to see if it holds up. (It does, so naturally they end up playing for hours and hours.)

Both of them aware there’s something there, but skittish about putting a name to it, so they just keep muddling along while the others are like really.

Then one day Geoff brings Gavin with him to a meeting with a crew. Long time rivals and an actual threat to the Fakes. So they’re planning on taking things nice and slow and careful – but things go wrong anyway.

Gavin picks up on it first, standing to the right of Geoff’s shoulder in place of Ryan or Jeremy or even Michael

He doesn’t have the intimidation factor the other three do and he’s mostly been ignored during the meeting, which is in his favor something tips him off that something is very wrong.

He’s moving before Geoff realizes what’s going on, and suddenly there’s a knife in some fucker’s throat, gun falling from his hand The goon who makes a gab for Geoff gets a knife in his hand and Geoff’s on his feet with his own gun out and it’s shoots the guy trying to blindside Gavin. Grabs Gavin by the arm and gets them both out of there.

Finds the side door that leads to the alley with baddies chasing them, dodging bullets and their ride screeches in.

Geoff feels a shove and sees Gavin stumble from the corner of his eye, body hitting the car heavily before Geoff twists around and grabs a handful of his shirt and hauls him in. Gavin falls into the car, across Geoff and Geoff’s yelling at Jack to gogogo.

Jack demands to know what went wrong. Geoff’s telling him, and breaks off mid-word when he realizes the hand he’d dropped over Gavin on reflex when they tumbled into the backseat is wet.

Twists around sharply to see his hand covered in blood from a gunshot wound. Gavin gritting his teeth and trying to pull free from Geoff to shoot at the the fuckers following them, hissing sharply because the motion tears at his wound, blood coming faster and Geoff -

“Stay the fuck down, you idiot!” Geoff yells, ripping his jacket off intending to use it to stem the bleeding, what the hell, Gavin.

Gavin jerks, turns to him, gun in hand and Geoff feels a chill go through him because he’s seen this before – not in Gavin, no. With Ryan, with Jeremy, when they’re in a tight spot. When one of them is hut and the odds are against them and it looks like this is where the Fakes end, where Geoff’s empire starts to crumble.

“Gavin - “

Gavin’s face twists, a strained, “Geoff” because this is what he and Michael are for, right? The reason Geoff even wanted them with the crew in the first place.

He says something along those lines, spits it out like it’s the simplest of truths and Geoff reels back in shock, just enough for Gavin to go back to picking off the assholes chasing them. Fend them off for the others to get there to take the last of their pursuers out and Gavin slumps down hand, accepts Geoff’s jacket and presses down to stop the bleeding, something spooked about him.

No.

Not spooked, really, just.

Wary, like he’s not sure what Geoff’s going to do now, and Geoff could cheerfully murder the fuck out of whoever did this to him, to Michael, if they hadn’t beaten him to it because they’re his now. Were from the moment they set foot in the penthouse, since he and the others got to know them.

Geoff wants to talk to him about it, to Michael, because both of them are on edge after this, can’t seem to settle. (Gavin goes quiet and watchful, and Michael is never far from him, falling back into old habits.) Geoff wants to talk to them, but he doesn’t get the chance because he’s working with Lindsay and Trevor to deal with the rival crew who starts going after their people.

Geoff knows Gavin’s recuperating and Michael’s keeping an eye on him and doesn’t know how bad things are at first.

When things finally calm down he goes looking for Gavin when it occurs to they haven’t talked about what happened back at that meeting. Feels guilty about it, but he was focused on keeping them all safe and he remembers that wild-eyed look on Gavin’s face in the car. Thinking he and Michael were just tools to be used.

“Fuck,” Geoff mutters, because he fucked up right there, didn’t he.

Fucked up with Gavin and Michael and he goes looking for Gavin. Remembers Jack mentioning that he’s been down in the shooting range a lot, and he goes there first.

When he gets there he finds Gavin and Ryan throwing knives at paper targets.

There’s a desperation in the way Gavin’s throwing the knives, something Geoff recognizes from the others, himself, after fucking up and vowing to do better next time and it breaks his damn heart because Gavin did everything right back there, and Geoff’s let him down.

Watching them, Geoff’s grateful for his crew because Gavin actually laughs at something Ryan says. Tired little smile on his face that drops away when he notices Geoff.

Something guilty, angry in Geoff at the way Gavin locks everything away. Stands up straighter, like he’s waiting for something from him. (Bad, something bad, and the urge to kill whoever did this to him and Michael is back again.)

Ryan says something to Gavin and then he leaves and Geoff hates the way Gavin’s watching him.

“Shit goes wrong,” Geoff says, hands in pockets, staring down at his the toes of his shoes. “It’s a fact of life No matter how prepared you are, shit always goes wrong in ways you can’t anticipate. The important thing is to be able to adapt, to handle that whatever happens, and you did, Gavvers, holy fuck did you ever.”

Geoff knows if it hadn’t been for Gavin he’s be dead now. Bullet in his head and a rotting, stinking corpse on the floor of that warehouse for the rats and strays to feast on and he’s clearly been around Ryan for too damn long to think that, but.

“It’s not your fuckup, Gavin,” Geoff says, too damn tired, sad, “And if it was, you wouldn’t be punished for it.”

Geoff makes a face when Gavin gives him a look, and okay, alright.

“Fine, you wouldn’t be disproportionately punished for it, all right?”

Because right, okay, he’d made Andy do the bitch work for a month after he messed up, but nothing like what Gavin and Michael seems to be expecting. Nothing mean, meant to hurt them, humiliate them, treat them than less than human.

It eats at him, that these dumb kids don’t get that they’re safe here after all this time. Like he hasn’t done enough to show them that, and it makes him angry - at himself, the bastard who did this to them.

“What we have here is good,” Gavin says, after a long, long moment. Halting and uncertain, accompanied by a ghost of a laugh, disbelieving. “I never thought I’d see Michael this relaxed.”

Geoff looks at him, skeptical because really?”

And Gavin laughs for real this time, hint of a smile curling his lips.

“It’s true, though, you don’t know what he was like before, with our other crew.”

Geoff looks at Gavin, still strung tight with nerves and it hits him suddenly, that Gavin’s done things like this before. Talked about Michael’s safety, happiness, and on and on and never mentioned his own feelings on anything. Always looking out for Michael the way Michael is always looking out for him and never mind anything else.

“And you?”

Gavin stiffens, eyes sliding away from Geoff, fake smile slipping into place.

“Oh, you know me, Geoff, always good, aren’t I?”

Well that’s a goddamned lie if Geoff’s ever heard one.

Geoff stifles a sigh, reaching for one of the throwing knives Gavin and Ryan were tossing around. (Remembers the way Gavin had killed that first guy in the warehouse, and thinks it wouldn’t be a bad skill to learn himself.)

“Yeah,” he says, hefting the knife in his hand, trying to copy Ryan and Gavin’s hold on the thing before he throws it.

Watches it flash through the air before clattering against the target and onto the ground, solid failure on his part. (Nothing new there, really.)

Gavin snorts, just watches as Geoff huffs and tries again with the next knife in line, and biffs that one too. Three more tries until Gavin reaches over to adjust Geoff’s grip, amused grin on his lips, some of the tension running through him gone.

“You’re snapping your wrist when you throw it,” he says, stepping back. “Use the knife’s momentum when you bring your arm forward.”

Geoff gives him a look, not sure if being handy with throwing knives was something Gavin learned how to do before meeting Ryan or after and a little afraid to know the answer.

He follows Gavin’s instructions with the last knife laid out, and while he doesn’t land the throw, there’s definite improvement because the point of the knife bounces against the target instead of the handle.

“Still shit,” Gavin says, and oh, that’s smug amusement, “but definitely better that time.”

Geoff eyes him, and Gavin’s grin only gets bigger.

“Try it again,” Gavin says, puling a knife out of nowhere to hand to him.

Christ, Geoff thinks, as Gavin coaches him on how to throw knives, glad that the idiot looks like he might actually believe it when Geoff says he doesn’t blame him for what happened at the warehouse. What a way to bond with someone.

#greyskyeswhy #geovin #fic i wish you'd write meme #take two #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #this one got away from me a little bit #Replies #prompt fills

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jules85 · 6 years ago

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Arrow Rewatch 2018 3x05: The Secret Origin Of Felicity Smoak

A Felicity centric episode? With flashbacks? Yes!

- love the opening training montage and then the cut to Felicity struggling to do 5 sit ups. Hilarious.

- Ray's now showing up at her apartment unannounced.

- Donna!!!! 'To send a text you actually have to press send on the text.' lol. Felicity looks horrified the whole time.

- Felicity flashbacks. Hi Goth Felicity.

- Thea's moving into the loft and Oliver's not happy that she's using Malcolm's money.

- Then the lights go out. The city's under cyber attack.

Oliver saving that woman from being hit by the car is pretty badass. He just grabs her and throws himself onto the car.

- Brother Eye

- Oliver meets his future mother in law and looks so happy about it. 'It's great to meet you. Finally.'

- lol Donna wants to buy Felicity a fake ID. Cooper gets arrested.

- Felicity wrote the virus and I love that Oliver calms her down when she's freaking out. He knows exactly what to say. He uses his soft 'Felicity' voice.

- Felicity visiting Cooper in prison just makes me think of Olicity. Are we going to see her visiting Oliver in prison? This poor girl has had a terrible time with relationships. Cooper went to prison and then she thought he killed himself. She thought Oliver was dead. She thought Ray was dead. Billy actually did die. And now Oliver's in prison. Give the girl a break.

- Tell Quentin the truth!!!!!!!!!

- 'Family is precious, and love, in spite of everything, is what makes it precious.' Thea tells this to Oliver. He repeats it later to Felicity.

- 'I am running out of expletives!'

- first time ever that I was kind of mad at Felicity for the way she spoke to her mother. I felt bad for Donna. I have a lot of respect for single, working mothers. I was raised by one. I know Felicity is under a lot of pressure, but she was out of line. Sad for Donna that she doesn't feel she has anything in common with Felicity.

- Oliver encourages Felicity to talk to Donna. He knows her head's not in the game. He's so soft with her. He repeats Thea's line from earlier about family being precious.

- Donna got a free ticket to come to Starling. Felicity senses something fishy right away and then they are kidnapped.

- Cooper's alive.

- Oliver's worried about Felicity. She's not answering her phone. He knows her. He knows she's never far from her phone. Somethings up.

- Felicity out smarting Cooper by using Ray's smart watch to send for help...so proud.

- Donna going all mama bear on Cooper. You tell him!

- Oliver shows up. Don't mess with his girl.

- Felicity pistol whipping Cooper was everything. She saved herself in the end. My girl ain't no damsel. And Oliver knows it.

- Oliver's had some experience with coming back from the dead lol.

'Lovers, it sounds creepy no matter how you say it.' Oliver laughs.

'I want you to know that whatever experiences you had to go through, I'm glad that you did. They shaped the person you are today. And you know how I feel about her.' Awkward.

I both love and hate that line. I love that he probably didn't mean to say it. But that he needs her to know. However, I hate that he does because it's unfair to Felicity. He made the choice to let her go. He can't keep dangling the slim hope of them over her. It's a little mean. She's trying to move on.

- flashback Felicity has a whole new look. I loved how it was sort of setup as a superhero costume reveal. In a way it was. This is Felicity in her hero costume. The blonde hair and glasses are her new disguise. The walls are up.

- Oliver moving in with Thea. Queen siblings reunited. Malcolm does not look happy about it.

- love that Felicity apologised to Donna. 'I have learned that I'm a lot tougher than I thought I was. That, I got from you.' Stop making me cry. Mothers and daughters just get to me. I can relate.

- Roy's having dreams about killing Sara.

Rating: ☆☆☆☆ Felicity centric episodes for the win. More please.

@hope-for-olicity @blondeeoneexox @allimariexf @memcjo

#arrowrewatch2018 #arrow 3x05 #olicity #felicity smoak #oliver queen #ota #arrow meta

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purplesurveys · 6 years ago

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358

In the last year, have you...

Moved: No, I’ve lived in the same house for about a decade. Started a new job: Nope, and I don’t exactly plan to do so until after I graduate. Traveled to another country: Nah, not this year. Traveled to another continent: Most definitely not lmao, if ^ that’s already a no. Eaten sushi: So many times, my dude. Gab and I had sushi for our anniversary.

Been drunk: Yep. As recently as last Saturday. Been high: Never plan to. Been to the dentist: At the start of the year I think. We always get our teeth checked once a year. Bought a new car: Nah, still using my usual one and I never want to trade it for something else, at least while I’m still in college. Had a broken heart: Uh, sure. It sounds cheesy but yeah I’ve felt hurt here and there. Spent over $1,000 in one day: I’ve never even held that much money. Maybe my parents did this, but I haven’t. Kissed a stranger: As a demisexual, the prospect is terrifying. Haven’t done this. Finished a jigsaw puzzle: I don’t think I got to play with puzzles this year. Cooked or baked something from scratch: Yes!!! I’m glad to say I baked something this year! Angela, Hans, Rap, and I spontaneously decided to bake chocolate chip cookies when classes got suspended halfway through the day because of an incoming typhoon. Started a new relationship: No, still in the same relationship as I’ve been in in the last two years. Broken up with someone: Nope. Been broken up with: Nope. Been in the same relationship you were in last year: There we go. Explored a large city: I guess, in the few moments that I had the time. Been to a wedding: No but my mom was invited to a couple this year. I miss going to weddings :( Been to a funeral: Thankfully not. Been to a baby shower: I don’t think so, not this year. Held a baby: Earlier in the year. Angela’s mom (who works as a pediatrician) threw a party and some of her patients and their kids were invited, and one of the kids was a really chubby baby girl that I couldn’t help but hold. Seen a therapist: No, I’ve been putting it off for the longest time. Bought new furniture: My mom’s in charge of that, not me, so no. Made new friends: Sure, you always meet some new people in college. This year it was most notably new recruits in my org, like Tina and Kezhia. Called in sick to work/school: Haven’t we all... Deleted a social media account: I didn’t delete, just deactivate. I’m doing a massive social media detox this Christmas break because everyone’s happy and family-centric posts make me sicker this time of the year. Started a new hobby: Coloring came to me as an impulse hobby last month as Christmas had been approaching, and while I feel sad about flushing so much money in one go over coloring books and supplies, I’m still happy I made an active effort to look out for myself this year. This hobby’s a blassssssst so far. Met a famous person: I don’t think so, if I remember correctly haha. I was like 10 feet away from Paramore but I was too scared to volunteer myself for Misery Business. Went to a concert: I DID!!! I saw Paramore for the second time!!!!!! August 23rd. BEST night of my life, even if I went alone. I don’t know if I ever reported that here but the experience was amaaaaaazing. Best band ever. Traveled via train: The railway system in the Philippines is shit. No way am I voluntarily riding a train. Traveled via airplane: Yes, I went to Bataan over the Holy Week. Been on a road trip: Yes, my dad loves doing road trips so whenever he’s home, we do 1-3 of them. I also did a road trip with just Gab and I when we went to Nasugbu for my birthday. Donated to charity: Not really for charity since they’re sometimes sketchy, but I regularly give money and food to homeless people who knock on my window when I’m stuck in traffic. Been to a country club: Yeah, a few months ago. Went swimming: Many times. The weather this year was not exactly the most convenient, so we went to a LOT of beaches to cool down. Went surfing: Nah, I’m too afraid to try. My sister and parents have had a few lessons but my balance is mostly off haha. Went hiking: NOOOOOOOO UGH I miss hiking! I wish I’d get to do it next year. Had a gym membership: I don’t think I need one, so no I’ve never tried to apply for a membership. Had an argument with a friend: I mean, just with Gabie. I never had an argument with any of my other friends. Had a family reunion: Yeah...dad’s side. It was huge, we rented out a small hotel for it cos literally everyone from my paternal grandmother’s side was there. I was mostly stoked about the food and the couple of dogs that my relatives brought. Went for a walk in a park: This country doesn’t prioritize and maintain their parks, a damn shame. We go for walks at the mall - that’s more of the culture here. Been in the hospital: If I remember correctly, no. Attended a professional sporting event: No. The UAAP (our version of the NCAA) season this year was CRRRRAZY good though, but I never got to get tickets because acads consumed me throughout the semester. Earned a new degree or diploma: I’m in the process of getting one, but no I didn’t earn it this year. Been to a museum: I went back to Pinto this year with Aya, Laurice, Jo, Jum, and Luisa then had a drink atop Antipolo after. Been to an art gallery: Numerous ones with Gab. They pop up every now and then at the mall and we always go through them. Went camping: I was way too busy this year. Went fishing: I don’t like doing that :c Struggled with an eating disorder: No, I’ve never been diagnosed with such a disorder. Been in credit card debt: I don’t even have a credit card. Had new neighbors move in next door: Nope, the houses on either side of ours have long been uninhabited. Gotten drunk at a work party: At an org party, sure. Dyed your hair: Nope. But Gabie did, she had the ends of her hair dyed like a weird blondeish a few months ago. My sister also got brown dye delivered to the house a couple of days ago, so I should be expecting her look to change soon too. Gotten a manicure: Not a big fan of getting my nails painted. Been to a casino: I wouldn’t be allowed to get inside even if I wanted to haha. The one time I smoothly went inside was in 2016 when I was on my cruise trip. The only things I remember is that it the place was filled with flashing lights and everything was super colorful. Voted in an election: No elections happened this year. But we will have our midterm elections in 2019 and I intend to vote then. Shopped at a bookstore: SO MANY TIMESSSSS. Call 2018 the year I got obsessed with school supplies, cos I definitely went overboard with buying pad paper, highlighters, post-its, and, pens. Dined at a fancy restaurant: Many times with Gab. Sat in a sauna: I hate saunas and can’t comprehend how my mom enjoys it so damn much. It’s hot enough in Manila, why salivate at the thought of saunas??? R u ok??? Had a panic attack: Hahaha, I remember so many occasions. Attended a religious service: My family is Catholic, I get dragged to church every week. Been pulled over for speeding: I don’t think speeding is a thing here. People drive like death and I’ve never actually heard of someone getting pulled over for this reason. Stayed awake all night: It happens. Borrowed money from a friend or family member: Gabie lent me a thousand bucks (relax, that’s like $20). I was so short of money last week but I still had a bunch of Santa babies to give gifts to, so I went into a panic until she stepped in and lent me money. Lent money to a friend or family member: I give Gab money sometimes since she commutes from her dorm to my school, but I don’t ask for it back unless I really need the money. Been to an amusement park: LOL pass. I hate amusement parks. Gotten a new pet: No, I still have the same dumb dog. Had strep throat: My throat hurt like a bitch a few months ago. Had food poisoning: I don’t think so. Had the stomach flu: Sure. Binge-watched a show on Netflix: Friends and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Shoveled snow: We don’t get snowwwww. Mowed a lawn: We don’t have a lawn. Bought a new computer: Nope, still have my same trusty laptop. Bought a new phone: My dad got me an iPhone 8 early in the year.

Worked out using a fitness tracker: I don’t work out. Eaten an entire pizza by yourself: Hehe. Felt an earthquake: I don’t think there were any recognizable ones this year. Taken out a loan: I’m a clueless 20 year old and I don’t know what this means, but I’m guessing no. Been prescribed antibiotics: Nope. Sold something on eBay: I don’t use eBay. Painted a room in your house: My control freak of a mom would never let us get away with that.

#survey #surveys

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howlljenkins · 6 years ago

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Where We Go From Here

Nick x June centric multi-chapter fic: June and Nick finally make their escape from Gilead with Hannah in tow but things don’t go quite to plan. In the months that follow June is forced to confront the fact that she is no longer the same person she was pre-Gilead. Rated M.

Chapter 2: Adjustment Period

I am surrounded by white light. I can't feel my body. Do I have a body anymore? Perhaps I am dead. Perhaps this is heaven. A subtle scent tickles my nose. Like lemon disinfectant. Do they use antiseptic in heaven?

My eyes flutter open. I’m in a bed in a hospital room with white walls. Tubes flow in and out of me like tree roots, connected to a machine by my head that beeps softly in time with my heartbeat. A chair is pulled up to the bed and in it--

“Luke.” My throat is raw and his name comes out like a croak.

Read on AO3

His head jerks up. He looks like shit. His glasses are missing and dark shadows float beneath his eyes. For a moment we simply hold each other’s gaze. Then he’s moving, leaning forward, gathering me up in his arms, and we’re both crying. I cling to his shirt, not caring that I’m getting it wet, that my nose is running like freight train, afraid that if I let go he’ll disappear. Finally we break apart. He continues perching on the edge of the bed. Both of us laugh as we wipe away tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Right back ‘atcha. That was some escape.”

I smile and dab my eyes with the back of my hand. “What happened? I mean, I remember most of it, at least until-” I wave my hand toward my torso which, beneath the hospital blanket, is covered in bandages.

“You were shot crossing the border. The bullet lodged between two ribs. Thankfully it missed all of your vital organs but you lost a lot of blood. According to the doctors you’re out of the woods now though. They say you should make a complete recovery.”

I let out a long, shaky breath. “And Hannah?”

His face brightens. “She’s fine. One of the nurses took her down to the cafeteria to get some ice cream. You got her out.” He squeezes my hand. “You did it, June. You’re amazing.”

“I had help,” I say.

“I know. I couldn’t believe it when Nick called me to tell me you’d made it out. I am going to owe that guy for the rest of my life.”

I hesitate. “Nick called you?”

“Yeah. That’s how I found out. At first, I thought it was a joke.” Luke shakes his head as though he’s still having a hard time wrapping his head around things. “Then he put Hannah on the phone.”

“Is he… is he here?”

“Nah, some government people came by and took him.” At the panicked look on my face, Luke adds quickly, “I don’t think he’s in trouble. They said they just needed to ask him some questions. Makes sense. I mean, he must have a ton of valuable intel, working for Waterford that long.”

Someone knocks on the door. “Feeling up for a few more visitors?” Luke asks.

The door creaks open and Moira steps into the room. She’s not alone, either. My breath catches in my throat as my best friend approaches the bed with my daughter perched on her hip. The last time I saw Holly she was eight weeks old. That helpless infant is gone, replaced by a chunky 7 month old with blue eyes and dark, softly curling hair, wearing the slightly cross expression of someone who’s just woken up from a nap.

“I brought someone to see you,” Moira says.

I open my arms and Moira leans down and deposits Holly in my lap. Rocking back and forth, I bury my face in her hair. “Hi, baby,” I murmur. “Hi, sweetheart.” Pulling back, I hold her a bit away from myself. “Let me look at you. God, you’re so big!” I try to take it in all at once. The long lashes. The rolls of fat around her ankles. Whoever dressed her put her in a onesie embroidered with the words I love my mom. I press kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. Clutching her to me, I glance up at Moira through watery eyes. “Thank you.”

Moira raises an eyebrow. “Girl, you are lucky your kids are cute cause this one has been waking me up every night for months.”

“You've been taking care of her?”

“Yeah, me and Luke.”

I swallow the thick lump in my throat and nod. “Thank you,” I say again. Because what else is there to say?

“Shut up,” Moira says. “You know you’re family.” She reaches out and tickles Holly below her chubby chin. “So are your babies.” She looks down at me, smiling. “Thanks for not dying on me.”

I smile back at her. “Yeah. You too.”

Eventually my visitors are shooed out by concerned nurses parroting something about too much stimulation. I fall asleep soon after they leave. When I wake up again morning light is falling through the window of my room and Nick has replaced Luke in the chair beside my bed.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” I say.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just peachy,” I say, wincing as I struggle to sit up. “I was worried. Luke said some government people took you away.”

“They just had some questions for me.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s it?”

“I’m going to work for the American Consulate. Tell them everything I know I about how Gilead operates. I don’t know how it’ll help but I have to try.”

“It’ll help. Every bit helps.”

He nods. It’s not lost on me that he won’t look me in the eye.

“Holly was here yesterday,” I blurt. “Luke and Moira are going to bring her back to visit this afternoon. You should stay.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Standing, Nick wanders over to the window. The sunlight gilds his edges, turning him golden. “He’s a good man. Luke.”

I had to know this was coming. That if our escape was successful we would have to deal with the complicated nature of our entanglement eventually. Grabbing love wherever you can find it is good advice when you’re living under a totalitarian regime. It’s not so simple in the real world. I can’t have a lover and a husband. I made a vow to Luke. And more than that, I love him. Still, none of this lessens the pain that I know is coming.

“I think we should take some time. Figure things out.” Nick glances at me over his shoulder. Is he waiting for me to argue? When I don’t I can’t tell if it’s regret or relief I see in his eyes. Whatever happens next I know I will never forget this moment. The soft beeping of my heart monitor. The morning light that fills the room like a cathedral.

I shake my head, then nod. "I think so too."

Nick's Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows. He crosses the room, leans down, and presses his lips to my cheek. I turn my face toward him, drinking in his smell. Cigarettes and pine. My hand rises of its own volition, curling into the collar of his shirt, as if I can hold him there forever. But I can’t and we both know it.

He pulls away. My hand falls.

“Goodbye, June.”

I can’t bring myself to say it back.

Then he’s gone.

I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste the salt on my tongue.

~~~~~~

The day I get out of the hospital I am weighed down by balloons and flowers from the nurses. Luke used my time in the hospital to find a new place for him, Hannah, and I. He drives straight there from the hospital. I watch the world go by from behind the car window. A woman walking her dog. A young couple strolling hand in hand on the sidewalk. A man lugging his groceries up the steps of an apartment building. Mundane acts of everyday life that seem strange, almost unnatural, when viewed through Gilead tinted lenses.

The place Luke found for us is in a small apartment complex on a street lined with tall oak trees. Across the street is a park with a slide and swings, and a few blocks over is the school that Hannah will attend once she’s ready to go back.

Our apartment is on the fourth floor with a nice view of the park. When I walk in, leaning on Luke’s arm for support, I am greeted by a banner strung across the doorway that reads Welcome Home, June! in brightly colored letters.

They say that home is where the heart is but what if you heart is in multiple pieces? What if you’re not sure you even have one any more?

“June?” Luke is holding open the door waiting for me to come inside. “You coming?”

I force myself to smile. “Yeah. I’m coming.”

~~~~~~~

A week after I get out of the hospital Moira takes me shopping. It’s kind of unavoidable as I have no clothes. Scratch that. I have one set of clothes: a sweatshirt and sweatpants combo purchased from the hospital gift shop. I used to love shopping. I was there so often all the clerks at Anthropologie knew me by name. Now the myriad choices overwhelm me.

Staring at rack after rack of items, I find myself longing for my red dress and the simplicity of knowing what I was going to put on when I woke up in the morning. Then I realize what I’m thinking and feel like I’m going to puke. To combat the feeling, I buy far more than I need. I specifically choose things that would get a woman killed in Gilead: low cut tops, tight jeans, above the knee dresses, brightly patterned sweaters. When I get home I try on one of the dresses, a purple wrap dress that highlights the curve of my waist. It looks garish and I can’t take it off fast enough. I select a few pairs of jeans and a couple of plain t-shirts and fold them neatly in a drawer in the bureau. The rest of it I shove into the back of the closet.

If Luke notices the pile of unworn clothes he doesn’t say anything. In fact, we don’t talk much at all. We both try but it’s like we no longer speak the same language. I hate Gilead for doing this to us. I hate myself for letting them.

I rarely leave the house. Random things bring it all back. A slammed car door. A siren. The city bells tolling the hour.

After three months I am beginning to go stir crazy. A kindly old woman lives next door. She adores Holly and has offered several times to watch her if I need to go out. Her family lives far away and I think she’s lonely. Finally I take her up on the offer. After dropping Holly off, I rush back in the apartment and pull a suitable outfit from the pile in my closet. Before I can change my mind I march myself down to the American consulate and ask if they have any use for a very out-of-practice editor. Turns out they’re desperate for extra hands. They put me to work editing stories for Radio Free America. Surprisingly, it helps. I can’t live inside my head when I’m busy. I lose myself in the red marked pages, a dead Martha displaced by an erroneously used semicolon. Eden’s body hanging from the wall nothing more than a dangling participle.

It is not lost to me that Nick and I are now working in the same place, that I could run into him at any moment. I go about my days expecting to see him around every corner, but I never do. It’s for the best, I tell myself. It would only complicate things, make trying to readjust even more difficult.

~~~~~~~~

One day I’m in the small staff kitchen at the Consulate making coffee when I bump into a petite, mousy haired woman with an AIN (American Intelligence Network, essentially the CIA in exile) badge fixed to the front of her blouse.

The question falls from my mouth before I can stop it.

“Nick Blaine?” she says, placing the creamer back in the fridge and turning toward me. “Yeah, I know him. He works in another building off-site.”

All the time I walked around expecting to see him and he was never here. I feel like a fool. “Can you give this to him for me?” I scribble my address on a scrap of paper and hand it to her. “Tell him June needs to talk to him. Will you tell him… Just tell him it’s important.”

The woman looks at me curiously, as though waiting for me to identify myself or at least clarify my relationship with Nick. When it becomes clear that neither thing is going to happen she tucks the paper into her pocket. “Sure thing. I’ll give it to him.”

“Thank you.”

A week passes. I start to think he’s never going to show up. That he’s cut us clean out of his life and that's it. Maybe he’s relieved to be free of me. It’s one thing to tell a woman you love her when a guillotine is hanging over both of your necks. It’s another thing entirely when loving her means navigating a minefield of pre-existing relationships.

The day I’ve made my peace with this (not really, but that’s what I tell myself), the doorbell rings as I’m warming up a bottle for Holly. Hoisting her onto my hip, I pad to the door and pull it open fully expecting to see Doreen Bancroft from down the hall come to return Luke’s KitchenAid.

It’s not Doreen Bancroft.

Several seconds tick by as we stare at each other.

His hair is slightly shorter than the last time I saw him that day in the hospital. Instead of the all-black of a Guardian, he wears jeans, work boots, a white t-shirt, and a navy bomber jacket. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as though he doesn’t know what to do with them. I grateful mine are full of Holly because I wouldn’t either.

“Hi,” he says.

I hike Holly up my hip. “Hi.”

Worry is etched into the lines around his eyes. “Alice told me you were looking for me. She seemed to think there was some kind of emergency. Is everything alright?”

I missed you. I don’t know what I’m doing. What should I be doing?

“She must have misunderstood," I say, surprising myself with the smoothness of my voice. I have to credit Gilead with this: it turned me into an effective liar. "Everything’s fine. I just… thought we should catch up.”

Nick raises his chin thoughtfully. He doesn’t believe me, I can tell, but thankfully he doesn’t press it. “Sure.” His eyes shift to Holly and his mouth curls into a smile. “She’s so big.”

“Tell me about it. Look… do you want to go get coffee or something?”

There’s a small coffee house around the corner. It’s a grey, rainy day so we run. The bell on the door tinkles cheerily as we step into the shop. We find a table in the back and a barista brings us a high chair for Holly then comes back a few minutes later with two large mugs of coffee. I wrap my hands around the mug, the hot ceramic warming my chilled fingers.

We make small talk. The weather. Our jobs. What did I think this would be like? I study his face the way a small child studies the contents of a puddle, prodding it for secrets. He gives away nothing. How is he doing really? Does he have nightmares, wake up panicked thinking he's back in Gilead? Does he regret our relationship? Does he miss me like I miss him?

His hand lies inches from mine on the table. The urge to reach out and take it is overwhelming. I busy my hands adding too much sugar to my coffee then instantly regretting it.

I find myself telling him about the pile of unworn clothes in my closet. About how Luke and I don’t speak about Gilead at all, except in a detached, academic way when the occasional news story pops up on the tv. How not talking about it makes it worse.

Nick listens without interruption. He doesn’t try to soothe me, tell me everything’s alright, that everything I am feeling is a normal response to extreme trauma. I stare down at my now-cold, too-sweet coffee. “Do you think we’ll ever feel normal again?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly.

The fact that he doesn't immediately say 'of course' or 'time heals all wounds' is oddly comforting.

I find myself looking around the shop, scrutinizing the other customers. It’s getting toward lunchtime and the coffee shop is filling up with women carrying yoga gear, men in suits talking on their phones, college kids with earbuds stuffed in their ears. Normal people going about their normal lives. Is that what we look like to them? Father, mother, baby. Just a regular family out for lunch on a rainy Tuesday in autumn.

It stops raining just before we leave the shop and we stop at the park across the street from the apartment so Holly can watch the dogs.

“I think we’re going to get her first word any day now,” I say.

“What do you think it will be?”

Holly shrieks with laughter as she watches a small dog chase a larger one around the monkey bars.

I smile. “Luke and I have a bet: he thinks it will be dog. I think it will be no. He’s says I’m a pessimist.”

"I wouldn't say that. A realist maybe."

We stay until it starts to get dark. Nick walks us back to the apartment, rides the elevator with us up to our floor. I gather my courage as we stop in front of the door. “Maybe we could do this again sometime. For Holly,” I add. I immediately feel guilty. I’m a coward, hiding what I want behind our daughter.

What is it that I want, exactly?

He looks at me for a long while. I wait for him to tell me it’s a bad idea, that we’re playing with fire and someone is going to get burned. Then I realize he doesn’t need to; we’re both thinking it already.

“I’d like that,” he says, and despite the guilt and uncertainty swirling inside of me a swell of hope burgeons in my chest.

“I’ll call you,” I say.

He nods. Then he kisses Holly and turns to go.

It’s dark by the time I let myself into the apartment. Luke is still at work and Hannah is at a sleepover. I worry whenever she’s gone overnight. The first time she went to a sleepover she called me at 9 pm sobbing, begging me to come get her. Since then she’s gone to two more and been fine at each of them. Confronting the thing she’s scared of… she’s a lot braver than I am.

I give Holly dinner, read her a story, and put her to bed. Once she’s asleep I wander around the dark apartment, stopping at each of the framed pictures on the walls. Luke managed to get a few of the three of us in the pre-Gilead years from our old social media accounts. There are a couple of newer ones as well. Hannah and I on the swings in the park. Me holding Holly outside our apartment the day I got out of the hospital. Moira, Luke, and I cooking a meal together. Well, Luke is cooking anyway. Moira and I are drinking, our arms around each other.

Between the two sets of photos, four years are missing. It’s like we all ceased to exist four years ago only to pop back into the world a few months ago, an extra baby in tow. It's a strange feeling, to be able to see in such stark way exactly what has been done to us.

When Luke finally gets back I heat up leftovers for him and sit at the table while he eats. He’s almost finished when I say, “I saw Nick today.”

“Oh yeah?” Luke’s voice is carefully casual. He knows everything. That Holly is his not Waterford’s. Even that Nick and I exchanged I love yous. Despite this, he’s never once said a bad word about Nick. If anything he’s heaped praise on the man. Somehow that makes it worse.

“We went for coffee.”

“What’s he up to now?”

I tell him about Nick’s work. How he hopes he can make some good out of all the shit that’s happened. Luke looks at me a long time, as though waiting for something more. When I don’t add anything he stands and puts his plate in the dishwasher. “Well, I’m gonna go get ready for bed. You coming?”

That’s it? part of me wants to ask. That’s all you have to say? Another part of me is grateful he doesn't say anything more.

“In a minute,” I say.

Later I sit in bed watching Luke sleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest. I remember watching Nick in much the same way. A small furrow often appeared between his brows as he slept, as though he were deep in thought. I used to kiss it.

“What were you dreaming about?” I asked him once as we lay tangled together in apartment over the garage.

The corner of his mouth quirked. “You.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? You looked confused.”

“That’s because you confound me.” He dragged his thumb along the curve of my cheek. “I never know what you’re thinking.”

I remember pulling him on top of me, his hard length pressing against my thigh as I wrapped my hands behind his neck. Wiggling against him, I asked, “Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”

He buried his face in the crook of my neck. I gasped as he pressed inside, my core still wet from our previous night’s lovemaking. Nick groaned.

“Yeah,” I panted. “Yeah, something like that.”

I flipped us so I was straddling him. His hands grip my waist as I sank down, taking him fully into me once more. Our bodies moved as if they were made to fit together. I loved to watch his face as he came.

Luke snorts in his sleep and I snap back to reality. My face burns. How messed up do I have to be to think about fucking another man as I watch my husband sleep? Sliding out of bed, I go to the bathroom and lock the door intending to splash cold water on my face. Instead my fingers slip beneath the waistband of my shorts. I touch myself, thinking of Nick inside of me.

After I come I slump down on the closed toilet seat and drop my head into my hands. I don’t know who I am anymore. Am I Luke’s wife? Nick’s girlfriend? I am Hannah and Holly’s mother. I was a Handmaid. A daughter. A sinner. A friend. A slut. I am a woman. I am broken and bloodied. I am out of Gilead but I am fighting still, only this time my enemy is myself. Somehow that’s almost worse because now there is no one to blame but me.

I flush the toilet and go back to bed.

#tht #nick x june #tht fic #the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #june osborne #*

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