#i never got really far in my previous reading but now that im able to take my time with it and with sen

[chongoblog]

Reading Steel Ball Run with the bf and yeah it really is peak, huh?

Stan Pocoloco

[cheriecoke]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BY ANY OTHER NAME — dazai osamu

summary . . . dazai comes home after a week away, and you stay up late to surprise him with a gift.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader, pm boss dazai, dazai's pov, fluff, pet names, husband dazai <3, my unofficial valentine’s fic — 2.3k

notes . . . IM BACK !!!! he can stop whining about being neglected now (i missed him)

Dazai rubs his eyes as he walks in through the front doors of the Port Mafia headquarters, two of his men trailing behind him. The lights have been dimmed in the lobby, just bright enough to read through a sheet of paper without squinting. There are very few people loitering in the building, but that isn’t unusual for three o’clock in the morning. 

The sight of the lobby, as abysmal and dreary as it is, soothes the ache that’s been lingering in Dazai’s chest. It’s been a while since he’s been home; the past week was dedicated to doing business outside of the city. But it feels like it’s been even longer than that since he’s gotten to kiss you.

Dazai had called you every day when he was away — of course he did. His every thought revolves around you. It’s just that a few phone calls are nothing compared to being close enough to touch you.

“All set then, boss?” Chuuya asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looks every bit as tired as Dazai feels. None of them had gotten much sleep on the mission away, and the weariness is finally settling down on them.

Dazai nods and waves his hands, dismissing Chuuya. “Get some rest. But don’t think that you can miss out on the meeting tomorrow just because we got back late,” he hums, and though Chuuya’s face twists up in annoyance, a fraction of a grin lingers on Dazai’s own. “I expect you there bright and early.” 

“Asshole,” Chuuya mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. And, in all honesty, Dazai is too tired to even quip back. 

He watches as Chuuya and the rest of his team disperse. Some of them head to the elevator, choosing to remain under the safety of the Mafia’s ownership. Some leave the building, heading to their private homes, outside of the city.

Dazai doesn’t really care where they choose to reside, as long as they remain loyalty to him and the Mafia. So far, he hasn’t had any issues.

With a quick scan around the room, he notices that there are still eyes on him. Dazai refrains from yawning, even as the sleepy feeling creeps up on him, an almost uncontrollable strain of the muscles. It’s a simple bodily reaction, but it feels too much like an emotion, a weakness that he could reveal. How tiring it is, to be the boss, with every eye scutinizing him, searching for a mistake. 

He’s a lot more relaxed around the members he’d been a child with; they disliked the previous bosses more than they dislike him, but some still miss when Mori was alive. Some, he worries, know they’ll never be able to land a finger on Dazai — you are the much easier target. 

It’s a fear that has never left him alone, not since the day he fell in love with you. 

When his eyes slide to the corner of the room, he notices that Higuchi and Gin are still downstairs, conversing in whispers in front of a corner table. 

His eyebrows wrinkle together. They’re supposed to be with you, still watching out in case anyone decides to make a move before you’re back in his arms. 

Dazai heads toward them, straightening his lips into a scowl. He knows that neither of them particularly like him; their feelings are nothing short of neutral. But they are fiercely loyal to you.

As much as he’d like to snap at someone in his weathered state, he knows neither of them would ever do anything to put you in danger. He also knows that if you’d begged them to be left alone, they would’ve complied. 

“Higuchi,” Dazai says, his voice flattened, serious, as he tries to hide both his exhaustion and his confusion. “Is something wrong?”

The blonde straightens, her expression changing quickly from an easy smile to something anxiously stoic. Her eyes shift from him to Gin, and though she always puts on a very brave face, Dazai knows how much he intimidates her — just as Mori did before him. 

“Sorry, sir,” Higuchi says, and she steps to the side, a space between her and the other woman revealing you asleep on the table. “We thought you’d be back earlier. She wanted to stay down here and surprise you, but it got late, and…” Higuchi trails off, noticing that Dazai is already distracted, his expression softening. 

It is, perhaps, the reason that so many in the Port Mafia choose to win you over. There is very little that Dazai forgives, very little that he lets slide. You, though, have a heart that is much softer, a gentleness that he has never once in his life possessed. The bleeding organ caged within his chest is made of blooming flowers when it comes to you, ones with petals he’d let you pluck off without a single protest. 

“Oh,” Dazai says, the syllable nothing more than a puff of air, parting his cold lips. His eyes soften, body relaxing, every ounce of tension draining from his shoulders. He feels lighter, those sickening thoughts of blood and misery evaporating from his mind like a cartoonish puff of smoke. “I see.”

One of your arms is stretched out across the table, the other tucked under your head, creating a right angle from your wrist to your elbow. There is a dark shade of lipstick on your mouth, that has now smeared to your cheeks. Only one of your eyes is visible, the other pressed into your bicep. 

You’re a mess, but you’re so human; angelically beautiful, but not without the faults of a mortal. He loves you so dearly that his chest squeezes, and though Gin and Higuchi are watching, he knows—and they know—that he’s never been good at hiding his feelings for you. 

“Thank you,” Dazai says, tapping Higuchi on the shoulder. She seems to flinch at the sudden contact, but relaxes, and nods. “For staying with her.”

Higuchi is surprised by the acknowledgement, but she just bows her head, laughs, almost awkwardly, and backs away from him. “I consider her a friend. I don’t need to be thanked.”

“It’s polite to thank people for the work they’ve done for you,” Dazai says, and though he’s, perhaps, being uncharacteristically nice, you’ve softened him like butter, making him sickeningly saccharine. “Is it not?”

Higuchi opens her mouth, then draws her eyebrows together before shutting it. Better to let it go than question Dazai’s newfound benevolence — something he will spare only so often.

But she surprises Dazai with a small grin, her bangs falling into her eyes as she tilts her head just to the side. “Your darling wife has trained you well,” Higuchi says, much braver than she’d been months ago, braver still, than she’d been under Mori’s regime. 

Dazai thinks he’s grown too soft in his years with you. Though, one scan of your darling, sleeping figure erases any regret he could ever feel. 

He’s surprised by Higuchi’s reaction, but he doesn’t let it show, a smile sliding smoothly on his face before a sharp laugh escapes from him. “I’ve just grown to trust you more, Higuchi. I know that you would never betray her.” 

Higuchi smiles; there’s a fresh understanding between them that wasn’t there before. 

Dazai loves you, he loves you dearly, but he is lucky that so many others do too. How many people has he won over in the Mafia, just by being associated with you? How many have sworn their loyalty to him, only because they’re forever loyal to you? 

He supposes it doesn’t matter. You’ve got a pretty ring on your finger to prove that you’re as much his as you are the Port Mafia’s, and he doesn’t intend on ever letting you go.

Gin and Higuchi bid him a good night, and his exhaustion finally starts to overcome him, the stickiness in the back of his throat giving way to pain, his eyelids thin and scratchy. 

Dazai runs his hands over your head softly, stirring you back awake. It must be painful, the position you’re in, and he can only imagine how stiff you are. When he touches your cheek, you make a soft little sound under your breath; Dazai nearly melts.

“Sweetheart,” he hums, dragging his fingertips across your arms. “Let’s go.” 

It takes a few seconds longer before you jolt a bit, eyes fluttering open softly. You’d been in a surprisingly deep sleep, despite the lights on in the room, the rustling sound that follows the people walking around.

“Osamu?” 

Dazai hums an affirmation, and then he kisses you, just the corner of your mouth, the only part of it that he can reach. “You fell asleep,” he says, just above a whisper, kneeling slightly as you make your way to a seated position. “Time to go upstairs.”  

But you’re still half-asleep, and you fall forward, into his arms, throwing them around his neck. You smell something of fresh soap and roses, overwhelmingly sweet. Dazai almost can’t believe he’d been able to leave you for so long.  

“You’re back!” you mutter, and though it’s full of excitement, its also said through a yawn.

Dazai smiles, and breathes you in. “I am.”

“I missed you,” you kiss his shoulder, the juncture between it and his neck. “Sorry I wasn’t awake when you got here.” 

He runs his fingers up your spine and laughs, shaking his head. “It’s the middle of the night, my love. I would’ve preferred you were asleep, anyway.” A pout forms against his neck; he quickly remedies his words, and kisses the top of your head. “But I’m happy to see you. I was certainly surprised.” 

You laugh, breathless. “Not much of a surprise with me passed out on the table.” 

Dazai starts to pull away, but notices the bouquet of bright red roses on the table. It’s large — dozens and dozens of flowers stuck into the paper. They’re your favorites, ones that he always gets you, the stamp on the packaging from the same florist he shops from. His eyebrows wrinkle together. 

“Who are the flowers from?” he says, and though he tries to keep his tone unassuming, he knows how it sounds… Irritated, and perhaps a little too much like a man willing to skin anyone alive. 

You pull your head away from his shoulder and glance behind you, to the bouquet that is laid carefully against the table. “Oh,” you say, your eyes darting back down to your hands, in a way that is almost bashful. “They’re from me, actually. For you.” 

Carefully, you pick them up and hand them to him, smiling sideways and awkwardly.  

Dazai’s eyes widen. He glances at the flowers being presented to him, stares at the golden and diamond ring upon your finger, the vulnerability in your irises as you reach out the bouquet. His doubt is only obvious for a second, but it is enough to have you questioning your surprise. 

You frown, withdraw, and begin to set the bouquet down. “Do you not like them? I know they’re more of something I would like, but I just thought… Well, I love when you buy me flowers, Osamu. And you just have so many things, I thought this would be more—”

Dazai smiles. He is sick with affection, devastatingly in love with you and everything that you have to offer. You could have given him nothing, and he still would have stared at you with stars in his eyes, because you are the universe that he revolves around. You could’ve given him the world, and it wouldn’t have mattered, because he wants you and you alone, and no gift can compare to the way that you love him. 

He kisses you, catches you in the middle of a sentence, steals the air right from your lungs. The taste of you is even sweeter after so much time apart, and he curls his fingers into your scalp, traces your cheeks with his thumb. “I love you,” he says against your mouth, whispers the words, even though everyone around them sees his feelings on a flickering sign about his head. “You’re so sweet to me, even though I probably don’t deserve it.” 

You’re taken aback, and then you shake your head, rolling your eyes. You must get tired of how often he says it, how often he questions why you love a man like him. But it’s true. You are everything that’s right with the world, and Dazai is the opposite. Fate must’ve been on his side to match him with a soulmate that is everything he truly needs. 

“You spoil me too much,” you say in return, yawning again in the middle of the sentence, your hand covering your mouth daintily. “I never get the chance to do the same.” 

Dazai thinks your love spoils him enough, but he won’t bother you with anymore of those thoughts. Your eyes are drooping closed once more, and if he doesn’t get you upstairs soon, you might just sleep on the table for the rest of the morning. 

He takes the bouquet in one hand, and drags you to your feet with the other. You sway a bit, then nestle into his side, curling your arms around his waist tightly. “I’m sleepy, Osamu.” 

“Me too, sweetheart.” The two of you walk to the elevator in silence, and he realizes that he never properly expressed his gratitude. “Thank you for the flowers, angel.” 

You don’t respond, but squeeze him a little tighter. He smiles, and the elevator chimes. 

⤷ thank you sm for reading! reblogs appreciated!

[devondespresso]

Background details about Tommy and Carol from Season 1, and how they are with conflict

&lt;very much not an all exhaustive list, i just saw this gif with something interesting and pulled up the whole show to look into it>

Now the one i saw was slightly longer, showing carol and tommy's continued reactions, so ofc we had to learn how tf to make gifs so i can show you guys what im talking about (this ones at .75 speed)

Specifically, to include not just their initial reactions, but also the next thoughts.

Lets start with Nicole, the redhead on the far right, who obviously isn't nearly as close to the trio as they are to each other (she's basically only around at school and this scene and doesn't stick around after they run from the cops). She's our control (if this were an experiment), the normal reaction. She's surprised in the entertained way. Steve's girlfriend slapped him, things are getting interesting.

Then Carol, who's probably got my favorite reaction. A similar surprise and "Oh" as Nicole, but her eyebrows don't stay up if they even jump at all. Then she looks at Nancy and she's mad, clearly on Steve's behalf. Steve's girlfriend slapped him, how dare she.

Next we have Tommy, the only person in this scene to noticeably flinch, bringing an arm up in front of him and playing it off with the cigarette to his mouth and marveling at the event. To me, it reads as a kind of empathy: if he were in Steve place in that moment, he'd block/shield himself and he has the reflexes to do it even when he's standing several feet away. I could be reading into it, but i still think its interesting he make more movement than the two people closer to them, and even the guy getting slapped (who doesn't even turn away, the momentum of the hit changes his angle slightly).

Then another (im sorry its pretty hard to follow, again, just learned how to make half decent gifs) showing interesting stuff from the fight i never noticed until looking for it. Most notably, extra lines/ad-lib from Tommy and Carol I've subtitled, like Tommy telling Carol to leave (the implication that she didn't want to as Nicole grabbed her, combined with her line worrying about him), Tommy hauling Steve up and Steve stumbling like we see in season 2 after his concussion (not definitive proof he has a concussion or something close to it since hes able to run and talk fine after, but its interesting)

Then we get the conflict afterwards, showing up differently for Carol and Tommy.

With Carol, its arguing. It's jabs at Nancy and it jabs at Tommy and Carol. What i think is really interesting is that the shit Steve says genuinely surprises her. Before she's goofing off with Tommy, the both of them trying to lighten the mood and Steve snaps. And her response isn't "calm down" or "what's gotten into you" (that's more in Tommy's lines), shes genuinely taken aback.

And then at the end, Steve raises his voice (not loud enough for a yell, but combined with the motion it feels like one) and Carol visibly backs up, out of frame entirely for a second. (followed by Tommy blowing up at Steve for yelling at her, and the following lines expressing again how its out of character for him)

That, combined with her reaction to Steve yelling from a previous scene (where he's going to check on Nancy and they tease him for caring) (also at .75 speed)

She's definitely got something going on with yelling specifically, especially since Tommy doesn't even look upset after, an expression similar to Nicole's "shit got interesting" expression from earlier.

Then there's Tommy's conflict, which is probably most memorable because its physical aggression (and very... tense.)

(yes i cut out over half of that moment the file size was massive im sorry)

We see from the Carol gif before and in this one that he gets aggressive. One shove when Steve yells at Carol, then the second Steve pushes back he escalates and even after Steve stops responding we get Tommy slamming the car door and hitting the outside even as Steve is driving out.

Its much harder to tell with him what the deal is, especially since he doesn't get the same vulnerable looks as Carol does. I think you could headcanon him having a similar thing as Carol, or as just macho-jock bullshit he learned to stay on top, or even it all leading back to having a crush on Steve.

This also doesn't really prove or disprove Tommy's actual ability to fight (i remember seeing people talk about it but I can't remember specifics) since he could either be a solid fighter who knows how to hit and protect from a hit, or he's talking out of his ass and sticks to intimidation and blocking when he needs to. Again, up to you (i certainly don't know which I find more interesting yet)

I personally also like to think the three of them were really good friends for a while, at least since middle school (but im also a sap especially for best-friendships) I wish we could've seen more of how Carol was taking the split up in season 2 and maybe something from Tommy other than how he hangs out with Billy now. Maybe Carol and Tommy split after Steve left, maybe it happened when Tommy tried replacing Steve with Billy in their trio, maybe they never split and Carol avoided Steve afterwards.

(tho i am kinda glad the story let them go after 2 seasons, we get a lot more room to play around with what-ifs and read into their scenes)

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Hi! A bit of a weird ask here, hope you don't mind. (I swear it's not meant in bad faith)

So, I'm new to the fandom. I'd wanted to watch the show for a while and I finally found time. I did like it, and all the characters, esp Hen and Buck.

Even previous to watching it, I had seen many posts about Buddie. I didn't think much of it until I watched the show. And now I can say... I don't see it. Like, from Buck's side? Sure. But from Eddie's? Not so much.

They both clearly act like Christopher's co-parents a lot, and that's where I'm like "oh, maybe there IS something". But outside of that, I actually see their interactions as mostly platonic. And when I see people talk about it, I see mostly about how Eddie completely trusts Buck with his son (which I agree with and makes a good point), but not much else.

So, what am I missing? Sometimes some characters are harder for me to "read", so I know there could be stuff that I'm missing. What interactions do you see from them that are so clearly romantic (at least more so than they are platonic)? In which ways do you see Eddie showing feelings for Buck?

Sorry about such a long ask. This might be more of a rant (oops). I just really want to understand, bc everyone's so sure... and I'm not. (Also, thanks for reading if you got this far)

So i’m obviously not going to tell you thst your interpretation is wrong- art is subjective and your interpretation of things is completely valid.

that being said, to me i see myself in eddie in a lot of ways:

- only son in the family, so i had unrealistic expectations fixed on me about what my life as a “man” should look like (im not a man, im nonbinary but i was still amab so to my parents i’ve always been a ‘man’)

- raised in a very religious household where there were certain expectations on who i would one day marry and have a family with (because not getting married at all and never having kids was out of the question)

- i was repressed for years emotionally (and sexually) due to pressure from my parents/church and thought there was something “wrong” with me for the feelings i felt

- i often revert to anger as my default defense mechanism because i have repressed my emotions for so long (which is something i am working through in therapy)

so seeing those things i relate to reflected in eddie, it is easy for me to pick up on subtext (whether intentional or not) when it comes to his sexuality/feelings for Buck.

you mentioned eddie trusting buck with christopher— to me this is one of the clearest examples of eddie’s true feelings for buck because he completely trusts the most precious thing in his life with Buck, but he has never even come close to that same kind of trust with any of his romantic partners… even shannon he was apprehensive about letting her back into chris’s life. this means he trusts buck on a level he has never trusted anyone else before— and not to get into psychology, but often when people are repressed emotionally, they find ways to feed those feelings without overtly feeding them if that makes sense. so eddie giving chris (who is practically his whole heart) to buck is essentially eddie offering up his heart on a platter.

so that gets that one out of the way.

as for other examples… i am going to state again that eddie is more repressed than buck and doesn’t show emotion as easily as buck does so Buck’s attraction/feelings are going to be more clear-cut and obvious.

but i am constantly seeing examples of eddie’s feelings for buck interwoven subtly through things:

- crying over buck after the lightning strike when we had only ever seen him cry twice before

- the hurt in his face when buck said natalia was the only person who “saw” him

- the way that he gets overly jealous and acts petty around buck’s romantic partners (the most egregious being Taylor, but we have seen it happen in his other relationships as well)

- the fact that he has never been able to fully allow himself to have feelings for the women he’s dated

- he is looking for a mother figure (second parental unit for chris) but has already effectively filled that role with buck

- he is constantly looking at buck like he hung the stars and the sun and the moon

- he has only started going off the deep end of this fixation with shannon after buck came out to him, and he is onyl actively remembering their relationship as what he wished it had been rather than what it was— something i used to do back when i was still in denial about my sexuality was imagining this dream life where i was happily married to a woman because that is what i was supposed to want, not because it’s what i actually wanted

- eddie is the only one who has shown he understands buck’s recklessness is less him being reckless/thinking he’s unbreakable, but that it’s actually buck seeing himself as invaluable enough that getting hurt wouldn’t affect anyone around him

- one of my favorite scenes is post lightning-strike when eddie climbed the ladder and instead of trying to lower buck to the ground immediately, he initially tries to pull buck closer to him while screaming for him

the list could go on and on and if anyone else wants to leave their observations on eddie’s feelings for buck in the replies by all means please do! but these are just a few ways in which i have personally seen eddie’s devotion to buck portrayed in a light that is much deeper than a platonic level.

i hope this made sense and offers a new perspective for you, and i’m glad that even though you haven’t seen enough evidence in your own interpretation, your first instinct isn’t to jump down people’s throats to tell them they are wrong, but instead reaching out and asking for other opinions to better contextualize why us buddie shippers are so invested in these two!

(and never apologize for a long ask to me… if there’s one thing about me i love to yap lmao)

i hope you have a lovely day, anon!! 💕💕

[studaxy]

studyblr intro (fr I promise-)

hihi, I'm axy!

this is the third iteration of my introduction to the studyblr community because life got in the way twice before (I went to a different country for two months and saw so many cats it was crazy) and completely stopped posting both times lol

but now everything has settled into a routine (so far. not to jinx it or anything-) and I'm ready to return :D

I am officially a university student! no one is more surprised than me, trust me, but I'm here, a fledgling compsci engineer, and I'm very happy about it!

I'm in my first semester, and honestly thriving despite having studied mostly biology in previous years. never could've guess that coding and math could be so fulfilling

that's mostly the gist of it! here's more information!

about me:

he/they

south asian (indian)

pisces

pretty sure I have executive dysfunction and autism 👍

will offer up my soul for a Monster energy drink

really like the color yellow and pink, I think they're neat :]

interests, hobbies and everything in between:

i fucking love physics (and swearing im sorry in advance-)

drawing (amateur but I'm trying to learn via youtube)

reading (mostly fanfiction, I'm in so many fandoms its awesome, but open to every genre)

writing (again, fanfiction, huge procrastinator, unhealthy obsession with metaphors)

music (unapologetic swiftie, but I do listen to tons of other - mostly mainstream - artists)

why did I make this blog?

for motivation! I have a severe lack of it and am scrounging up multiple, different sources of it!

to keep track of things! I'm very scatterbrained, and despite having like two different facilities to remember stuff!

my best friend @somniphobicfox is a force of nature who also has a studyblog (@a-fox-studies) and I can't and won't say no to her

things to expect:

updates on my progress with studying and random rants about the subject matter

my subjects include: math, physics, C programming, electronics, cybersecurity, english, a native language, design thinking (?? idk man) and HTML

pictures of my study space and the music I'm listening to.

the colors pink and yellow, because I'm kinda adopting the 'lack of aesthetic as an aesthetic' avenue with this - I'm really hopeless there - so you'll see a lot of posts with no structure at all or sometimes with too much structure

the lack of consistency is also an aesthetic - I blame the autism for both of these things

finally the weird punctuation pattern is intentional and I'm sorry if it bothers you

studyblrs that inspire me:

(still) pretty new here, so I only know a few, @a-fox-studies @notetaeker @problematicprocrastinator @ckmstudies @rambles-in-stem @thestudywithmeblog @studydiariesofaru @math-markers

Thank you for reading, and I hope my posts are consistent and able to inspire!! I'm sure I'll have a lovely time in this cozy community :)

(if you're confused that some of the reblogs talk about NEET its because this is a repurposed intro! for context, I started this blog when I was studying for a medical entrance exam, and when that didn't work out I'm now doing uh, engineering! classic desi pipeline honestly-) (I'm claiming the tag #axythings for my posts and my main blog is @tazlory [there might be nsfw beware] where I'm chaotic and wild)

[a-pop-of-korean]

hello i have a question about learning korean ^^

i started ( self ) studying it about two years ago but discontinued due to college and all, but now i want to pick it up again and i don't know where to start from? i know how to read and write, but i have issues reading in one go— basically i lack fluency in reading and i often stutter. is there any way to improve?

secondly, i do know some basic stuff however my vocabulary isn't vast enough. besides, i would like to understand the sentence structure, or how they write phrases and sentences since it's very different from english. i've referred to so many sites but there's always a question— do i work on vocabulary first or sentence / phrasing structure first? or do i study both of them along side?

this sounds like such a mess and it is because i'm so lost ┬┬﹏┬┬ my main goal is to understand korean shows without subtitles and i do pick up a few words and phrases here and there but there's a lot still left to learn and idk where to start from. moreover, i've noticed that the textbook korean and the one that's spoken in everyday life is way different ( this applies to almost all the languages tbh ) and i'm having a bit of a trouble trying to figure out how a native would say it?

or example, do this thing where i come up with a sentence and try to translate it just to check what it would be in korean and check in the translator to see if i'm right, and most of the time im not. whether it's about the formalities or the conjugations. basically a whole lot of issues so please if u can help ＞︿＜

Hello! If your goal is to be able to understand Korean content without subtitles, then I think self-studying grammar and vocabulary is a good idea. I know you said you already have some knowledge of Korean, so I would refer to my masterlist and start from wherever you feel appropriate. I also recommend diversifying your study material and looking at other resources on Tumblr, YouTube, and on the Internet elsewhere. There's a lot out there!

As for your second question, I think it makes more sense to study vocab and grammar at the same time. As I've said before in previous asks, I was never that disciplined with my studying, so I can't really give you concrete study techniques. I think I got where I am today by regular exposure (on top of taking Korean courses and studying abroad lol). But if you don't have those opportunities, using whatever resources on the Internet can get you far. As you get comfortable with both grammar and vocab, I recommend exposing yourself to content like webtoons in Korean and K-dramas. These will help you with your reading and listening comprehension. There are plenty of webtoons at varying levels of difficulty, and K-drama actors have clear diction that is easy to understand. Again, I don't exactly have concrete techniques for how to eventually ween yourself off of subtitles/translations (since I myself still use them), but in my experience, exposure alone is enough to at least allow me to read webtoons and watch K-dramas without relying super heavily on the translations. Consuming this content will also teach you how natural Korean is spoken by natives. I hope that makes sense!

If you're concerned about speaking, the best way to get better is to converse with others. You might not know other people who speak Korean, but you can still practice with others for free on Hilokal, where I used to teach live lessons. It's a nice, low-pressure environment that can help you get more comfortable with speaking and learn alongside other people just like you!

Also, I generally don't recommend using translators to help you learn a language, especially if you're an English speaker learning Korean. It's more useful for you to understand the meaning of the Korean itself than it is for you to get the perfect translation. Korean is especially difficult to translate into English (in my opinion), so a translator might not give you a clean, accurate, and natural translation. Unfortunately, I can't think of other ways to fact-check your sentences otherwise lol. But I think that looking at enough sample sentences will help you become better at constructing your own. And something that helped me feel more comfortable writing and speaking when I was abroad is that, even if I make minor mistakes, chances are that other people can still understand me. Maybe keeping that in mind can make the learning process a little less stressful :)

Maybe this advice isn't new for you, but I hope it was still helpful! Thanks for the question and good luck! 화이팅!

[erght]

Hi there, internet. Im alive.

Dont worry cs its my latest scan yet, so theres only a couple bits left.

I know it obviously sounds cringe but i just want to say please take care of yourself, do cherish your life even as bitter as it gets since you will never know when it might end.

I honestly so lost back then and i really dared god to just end myself.

Yet im actually that coward when it came onto my door.

I couldnt bear the pain nor the suffering as if a second lasted forevermore.

I couldnt sleep, i couldnt lay still nor walk cs my legs gave up to even try to stood still, i couldnt control my breath, it didnt even felt like theres an air taking in, i urinate blood shot, the pain rendered me so numb i couldnt even control whats leaking out from it, i couldnt process anything i forced myself to eat, its like whatever im taking in was clogged and never went through no matter how long the time has passed, i even felt more relief throwing it all up along the blood clot that i didnt even know happening inside my stomach. i couldnt feel an inch of what i know was my body except the pain that kept reminding me that im still conscious enough to even think as if god was telling me you get what you asked for so now show me.

I couldnt bear hearing my parents woes screaming at the medics to transplant whatever i need from them when they refused to act without further checkups on my body. I couldnt bear hearing them cry saying why cant it be them instead over and over and over that tore my heart to shreds im so sick of it.

I couldnt bear knowing my parents spent their whole fortune to save a life that i so easily throw away just cause.

Worse that i couldnt end myself anymore knowing everything had done to safe this very life that was mine.

And i dont think its only mine at this point.

I dont know how long of whats left of me; they said even if my body able to stop making more of these, it wont ignore the damage on the tissue that was caused from their previous ones. All i could do was giving it time and ease the work that it might need to heal. Worst case it doesnt recover and led to an organ failure, where i could start the countdown since a transplant would only mean a meager of bought time.

And god doesnt seem finished yet; cs now i got myself indebted to the people that holds me dear, i got myself an actual stable job in a company that took care of me and my future (if i get that far) family akin to what my dad did, i got myself cleared from various things that would have troubled me prior all this, and more as if god is trying to test me still with whatever he wanted from me.

Welp i think i should stop it here cs i kept editing it over and over and i felt like some are better to be kept private, but i just want to share this bit so that maybe others like me who might read this would be more kind to themself and cherish whatever theirs with their own ways.

And maybe the fact that you cant refuse the love others gave you no matter how you refuse it with all your might. You might not love yourself but others do, and they love you more than you do, than you ever will give yourself to. You might not realize that you are loved until you are forced to realize that you are loved by things you refused to acknowledge your whole life in denial to.

So please live; cs maybe there will be a time where its our turn to be there for someone else or someone we love when the time comes, or at least thats what i wanna do if i ever get to be one after experiencing all of this.

Or maybe im just dumb and this is yet another bullshit that only i can relate to.

[lqfiles]

day 2874838 without checking lqfiles page… im losing the will to live…

jokes aside, its kind of sad that i cant send as many messages as i want to :( i’ll try to be more of a consistent anon but school here in Chile is ass, i have a seminar (i think thats how u say it in english) about circular economy and the impact of humans on natural resources and allat + chemistry test + english presentation + spanish essay + biology test this week. now im not even joking when i aay that sometimes i could js sitting in class and suddenly start thinking like hmmm i wonder if lqfiles is still on that break you spoke about, it sounds weird but trust me it isnt my intention 😪

now are u still on that break? i really hope u are and in case u aren’t, u must be doing a great job so far. sending prayers and love, hoping that safety surrounds you and danger refrains from making its way towards you and your loved ones ! <3

i know its disappointing… but i’ve only been able to read two chapters of pay the price 😞😞 IM REALLY SORRY but i still liked those two! sometimes i will read someone texting “istg” and instantly think of score that goal and it immediately makes me open your page and boom you’ve published six more chapters 🤣🤣🙏🏻 not funny, did not laugh, i’m aching to read them but if i open tumblr i will NOT close it and i can’t risk my grades since i really need the NEM rn (notas enseñanza media = high school grades i think) which basically determines whether i will get to the university i want or not based off the grades i’m currently getting 😟

HOWEVER i already had the two weeks filled w exams that i needed for this trimester so i can finally take a break !! i’ll make sure to read ptp and send as many messages as i can ! :D

p.d: whenever i get notis from your page i still get as happy as the first time i got them 🫶🏻🫶🏻 sending lots of love your way

- 🐣 anon, i almost forgot to put it lolz

IM TEARING UP OMG I MISSED SEEING YOU IB MY INBOX 😭😭😭😭 you’re still as cute as ever omg..

please don’t feel bad for not being active !!! i always encourage all of you to put your own personal life and everything else before my blog because i don’t want me or my work to be the thing holding you back from your full focus 😣 it seems like you’re in a stressful position tho :(( please take care and take enough breaks !!!! that sounds like a boring topic tbh lmao but i’m sure you’ll do well in all of those, i’ll be personally cheering you on i swear!! YOU’LL ACE THIS WEEKS TESTS AND THE UPCOMING ONES TOO‼️🔥

i truly don’t find it weird i find it sooo cute honestly like i never imagined ppl would think about me and my blog throughout their day other than when i post but to answer your question, i’m not </3 i did have the day off on monday tho so that was nice because that meant i had 4 days off in total (the weekend + monday and tuesday) so that made me happy :D you’re always so sweet i genuinely hope nothing but good fortune for you too i will personally pray for it :( <3

AGAIN, DONT FEEL BAD LMAOO put your own personal life first because that’s something i would do too, i’m currently not writing much either lol all these are chaps i managed to make in like a few days and had on my drafts lolll. DONT EGEN THINK OF PUTTING THIS FIRST WHEN THESE GRADES MATTER SO MUCH PLS.. i’d feel so guilty if you didn’t pass

THE IMPACT stg had, the way i always think of stg too whenever i type istg 😭😭😭😭 i’m happy you liked the two chaps tho and i hope that you’ll like the rest too when you have time :) i’m serious when i tell you i was literally thinking about you today or yesterday like i was thinking about your previous messages and was like “i hope they’re doing well..” i’m glad to see you again and and to know you still have my notifs on :) take care my love again i hope you sleep peacefully and i hope you eat well and gozar of good health!!!

[valcat--online]

CARPET AIRLINES!!! (https://www.instagram.com/carpet___airlines/)

okay, okay, I loved playing for this party!!!! so I'll have a lot to remember!

some (very long) reflections on some topics:

THE MUSIC / THE SET

-I've been wanting for a long while to get more into gear and now I feel like i'm arriving at that place, or im on the journey towards it. this set was the most out-of-the-box (out of DAW) I've been able to get so far. the only thing that was going through abelton was my vocals and the instrumentals for the few tracks I did only vocals live for. I got an elektron rhythm this winter, and spent a few weeks rabbit-hole deep in spread sheets to organize all my samples and rebuild DAW-based tracks into the rhythm. I learned so soooo much during this time and I must say, one of the reasons im so dedicated to music is how nerdy I get to be with it. ngl I love taking notes, reading manuals, and watching lessons online, etc. Josh Cowgirl (https://www.instagram.com/jcow____/) came round to mine to show me some sneaky tricks with the rhythm and explain how he uses it in his live sets. giiiiant shout out and tysm to him for taking the time to do that!

-regarding actually doing the live set... I had so much more fun with this set/the performance than previous ones because I actually go to play more of the music live, rather than having 30 sec chunks to press play between in a DAW. the elektron rhythm is my new bestie fr! even muting drums in and out, so simple, SO much fun.

-after my set I realized, in a final click kinda way, that there's a weird sense of dysphoria I always get after playing, where I realize that a) everyone on the other side of the decks had a different experience at the set than I did, because they listened while I played, and b) I'll never get to experience a set of mine from that outsiders perspective. which is kinda weird and hard to wrap my head around. when people ask me how my set went, im like idk, ask the people who were there!

-given the last reflection, it's clear that feedback is suuuper important to me to understand how the set went. I love when people tell me about their experiences at my gigs and I live through their stories and use those words to decide how I'll go about the next sets. I guess something about me makes people want to tell me as well. lots of people come to me after my gigs to tell me about the experiences they had whilst listening/dancing. I loooove this, i encourage this! one example that was :) was that after my set this time, lewis (whose mixing down my album w me at the moment) came behind the decks, real coach-like, and gave me a run down of how it went. v sweet. i feel so grateful for him and other music makers in our community for giving me such endless support (https://www.instagram.com/tamtam_pda/).

-soooo some other feedback from others that I'm holding onto :) i got some really nice words from friends and strangers who were at the set. I think the thing that came back most often was that people felt the absolute freedom to listen how they wanted to. some people danced. some people lay down in the back and closed their eyes. mikhela said she had a full flash of yellow while she was getting a (?)cranial massage(?) during "dancing in the breeze." I was told by most of the people I talked to about it that carpet air was the perfect party to experience my music at, because of the sense of coziness and freedom to experience the music, the party, the people, in whatever way you wanted. :D from a personal standpoint, it's my fav gig I've done so far in terms of the vibe. the low lighting, the cozy carpets, the alien-y deco. im so grateful. and now i'm out here, like, begging telepathically (and now digitally, and very publicly lol) for carpet air to plllllls book me again!

THE PARTY / VENUE

-I don't think i can even convey enough how in love with the Carpet Airlines vibe i am. most/all of my previous gigs have been somehow linked to exhibitions. the reason is simple - i organize exhibitions. ive loved playing these gigy but I admit i was super grateful and excited for the opportunity to play at a *partiiii*. Anita and Linda (https://www.instagram.com/goofy_cult/) make suuuch a coool vibe with carpet air. they got to the venue at 6am to start set up. WILD! as a fellow installation artist, I must give mad respect to the effort. a big club and a pill aren't enough for most of the people in my community these days. we don't want to go to parties just to get fucked up. we want to engage with our friends, with the music. we want sensory experience. carpet air had masseuses and board games and couches and a dance floor. there were multiple meals available. nothing was too expensive. putting this party on my #insp list. so grateful to have been involved.

-s/o to the studio d.b team for being so fucking cool. after the party ended, I think we hung around for another 3 hours or so, chillling, playing music, etc. the slow descent back down to reality was much needed for me and I'm glad we got to loiter together and steep in the vibes of the day for a weee bit longer.

-also s/o to the studio d.b speaker system, fr! there was a moment during "bounce in the body" where I could feel that the subs were ON. given that "bounce in the body" is an incredibly dubby bassy track, I was on cloud nine hearing it hit the room. punch to the gut type vibes. bless. bruce mentioned this moment to me as well, and said it was as if it was the first time that whole day that the subs were really subbing. woooooooo!

FINNALLLY wanna give a big shout out to my colleagues in the cockpit https://www.instagram.com/bru.glu/ https://www.instagram.com/amanitaa__/ https://www.instagram.com/born_slip_e/ https://www.instagram.com/der_opium__queen/ https://www.instagram.com/buteninanna/

fire tunes. thanks a million!

shutting up now <3

[mayssa-m]

BROOOO I MISS THIS SO MUCH theres this one time (that was when i used to have this pair of headphones n only one wroned n wiuld have ro download the music in mp3 on the pc cus it had no wifi on it) i transitioned from those to airpods n listened to ts n you know when you like a song n then all of a sudden it stops but you listen to it n everytime you keep noticing a detail in the song youve never noticed before n that makes you addicted to the song again, well for me one of the addiction waves used to be that part i noticed a lil detail in “im up now my pockets fat lil bro” n til now i love it(havent listened to it in so long)

N Bro i remember when i was slowly getting into that song, first it was tiktok i think n then one day i refused to go to a wedding with my family n stayed home n blasted yeaaa along with this one which blasted made me interested in that song i kept repeating the beat drop part i was so addicted n that’s how it happened n then BRO I JUS REMEMBERED i had no phone no nothing at that time so i wouldnt have any occupations fr so i copied n pasted the lyrics n changed the fonts n printed with the title well written n id have what i remember was red n that one oh n archive too n id jus read them in bed whenever i dont have access to music, last week as the room was getting cleaned up i find a folder where those papers where at n memories flashed in my head reminding me how far ive came in some way, had no headphones, no phone, no laptop n i would learn people’s music, now i got a phone headphones, laptop n know much better how to spend my time, even though i dont regret wasting my time or any of that as that year along with the previous were really chill where everything was moving slowly n i would learn new sht everyday without any pressure or stress so yea im definitely grateful cus those printed lyrics times n constant checking on tiktok for the burner accs n posts was definitely something i know now it was the beginner of the pain i was causing myself, but i miss those times so much even though it was winter 2022, I loved those those times so much but im not finna waste my time whomp whomping about getting back there, im ready to create other memories which i wouldnt be able to compare to those ones i look up to now

AM TOO COOL Y YOU MAD LIL BRO N UP NOW MY POCKETS FATS LUH BRO

[raebayhc]

Girls Night Out

PART TWO!!!

warnings: smut, oral sex (f), fingering, public sex acts, car sex, use of alcohol, manipulation

word count: 2070

summary: you along with your groups of friends decide to have a girls' night for the first time in a while, things get heated and your friends end up taking turns using your body.

series: part 1 (more parts to come)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally making your way through the crowd you make it back to the group of girls who had already begun to drink. Mikasa’s hand finds purchase on your waist as she pulls you closer to hand you a drink “it’s fruity, you’ll like it” Mikasa knew you weren’t a heavy drinker but when you did drink you preferred fruitier things, you giggled at the thought of her ordering something so girly with the sole intent on giving it to you. You happily took the drink from her hand giving her a warm smile, taking a sip she watches your reaction as your face lights up “holy shit mik- this is awesome” she takes a sip of her rich colored drink “let me taste” you obliged as you held your glass up for her, she goes to hand you her drink but you decline “no thanks, that stuff tastes like rat poison.. I’m better off with my drink from paradise” you laugh, she lets out a small chuckle at your cuteness “just try it y/n I promise it’s not that bad”.. “Ughhhhhh fiiiiiine only because it’s you mik” you reply hesitantly. You both lift your drinks to the mouth of the other, not breaking eye contact you take a sip, and as does she, almost as if it was planned yall both swallow squint grunt then let out a small cough a visual representation of how yall felt about each other’s drinks “how do you drink this shit?? Bleh” Mikasa spits out “it’s better than the jet fuel you have in this glass” you shiver out.

The night goes on and all of the ladies are around the bar talking, yall somehow landed on your childhood and how yall used to run around outside all day and play in the woods behind your neighborhood. Mikasa continues to tell the story of how yall have matching scars on the same place at the top of your inner thigh from when yall collided bikes one time as if she needed proof she lifted your skirt to look at the scar, a reminder maybe, “see! Told yall it really happened and I have the same exact one too!” she lets your skirt back down and the girls disperse throughout the building, some dancing, some talking to guys for potential hookups. You and mik still at the bar talking. She cuts your sentence short “wait actually let me see your scar again I think it shrunk” without getting confirmation from you she lifts your skirt and underestimating the length it would take for her to reach the scar she overshot and instead of rubbing the scar she rubs the thigh right against one of your folds, a small whimper falls out of your throat, you didn’t mean to let it out it just kind of happened. Your stomach drops, her eyes dart up to your face, a deep blush forming that you can’t control. She cocks an eyebrow at you and slowly begins to move her hand up closer and closer to your sex, your grip on the bar counter becoming tighter “mik what the fuck are you doing” you spit out through gritted teeth. “I haven’t stopped thinking about earlier… yah know when we basically kissed in the theatre, I haven’t gotten you out of my mind since.” her words lit a flame in you, not only because of how seductive they were but because you were definitely attracted to her, you always have been but you would never dare to speak on it.

“I’ve kept this to myself for far too long don’t you think?” she asks, not able to push out any words fearing you would instead release a moan you nod, your eyebrows scrunched on your forehead, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, eyes glossy, nipples erect and visible through your thin shirt….. She couldn’t help herself. Slipping a finger into your underwear she groans at how wet you already are “all this… for me baby?” she purrs into your ear. “Mik…. we’re at a bar, there are people everywhere… please..” you whine out, she replies with a simple “trust me”, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to face her she grabs her drink opens your mouth and pours it in “spit it out or swallow it and you’ll regret it” you wince and nod your head obediently “good girl” she purrs.

Now basically crumbling under her touch your thighs are shaky, breathing erratic as you can only breath through your nose due to the rich liquid sheltered in your mouth. She positions her fingers to shape a gun, she then points her ‘hand gun’ at you and ‘pulls the trigger’ taking that same position she pushes into you, knowing you would react to this she lets out a loud cough to cover your moan, thank goodness she did. You’re vocal she likes that. Now pushing in and out of you she takes her left hand and grabs your neck then pulls you to kiss, her tongue prodding at your lips signaling you to open for her, the deep liquid flows into her mouth dripping down your chins, she swallows the liquid but remains in contact with your face against her occasionally biting or sucking on your lip. You knew there were definitely going to be marks later but you didn’t care, this was pure bliss and just the thought of Mikasa getting aroused by this was enough to send you over the edge, your vision gone blurry, your body shaking, reaching your climax. You droop your head down breathing heavy, worried she had crossed a line Mikasa lifted your head only to see a blissful fucked out expression, eyes hazy, drool falling down your chin, your mouth in a slight smirk, tears threatening to fall. “Oh, shit” she mumbles now fully aware of the effect you have on her.

Removing her fingers from under your skirt she dips her fingers in your drinks and encourages you to take them in your mouth which you do without a fight, a low groan escapes your lips as you taste the sweet and salty mixture of your juices, her sweat, and your ‘drink from paradise’ on her digits. Pulling her fingers out with a loud ‘pop’ she pulls a napkin from under her drink and wipes them off. Still recovering from the previous climax you sit there catching your breath, Mikasa’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, she leans into your neck giving you small pecks then comes up to your ear and nibbles on it a bit “.... y’know… there’s so much more I want to do to you.. Bee.” your skin shivers at the name she had given you when yall were in the sixth grade after you got chased by a bee into a creek, you hadn’t heard it in years… she really was something.

You only had one drink so you were nowhere near tipsy, sober as can be….. Unfortunately that cant be said for some of the other ladies. Ymir, Sasha, and Hitch were all out of it fortunately enough you, mikasa, and historia were all sober so yall could drive, you decide to take responsibility for hitch and drive her to the barn. You put her arm around your shoulder “shit. Why the fuck are you so heavy hitch, youre tiny” you spit out struggling to support her weight on you as you walk her to the car “h- hey-*hiccup* hey. Im not heavy I just had done a cartwheel sometimes earlier when she asked me to”. Yup. she’s out of if you think, you’re on the road and on the way to Sasha’s family barn when hitch yells at you to pull into an empty parking lot so she can get air a possibly throw up. Y’know the basic drunk shenanigans. You pull over to what seems to be a deserted parking lot with a raccoon and some dead bushes “okay hitch hurry up” “yeah yeah I’m going I’m going” she seems to have sobered up a bit.. *click* the passenger door opens and the car lights come on “hurry up they’re wai-” you’re cut off by the image in front of you. Wearing nothing but her underwear hitch had removed all of her clothing including her bra revealing her numerous piercings including a belly button and nipple piercings, not only that but she had one hand down her panties moving around doing what you assume is masturbating and her other hand squeezing her nipple “mmph please..please.. Help me will you pretty girl?” butterflies filled your stomach “what’re you-”

Hitch climbs halfway in with her hand on the middle console and one of her knees on the passenger seat, grabbing the collar of your shirt she pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, your grip on the wheel loosens as you lose yourself in the kiss, not only that but you notice she doesn’t taste of alcohol, not even the slightest bit. In fact, you remember about a month ago when she said she was gonna stop drinking and when yall were in the club you only saw her with cans of soda when you did happen to catch a peek of her.. Was she- “faking?” your thoughts cut off by her sudden comment “you know you’re really easy to read y/n, I can tell what’s going on in that pretty little brain of yours honey.” “so were you? Faking I mean.” you say in a confused tone as if you were trying to piece it all together yourself “yeahhhhh sorry but I had to get you alone somehow, don’t think I didn’t notice how Mikasa and historia were all over you tonight, it wasn’t rocket science to figure out they probably fucked you..and to be honest I’ve thought about us together. So please… have me?” she takes your hand and shoves it down her panties, black and lacey, you retract your hand and look at her without saying anything. Worried she might have done something wrong she begins “oh my god I got the wrong idea y/n I’m so so sor-” “get in the back” you cut her off.

Climbing in the back she waits on instructions from you, you join her in the back. You position yourself on top of her laying her head on the back door, you scan over her helpless body so small and fragile under your touch, starting by kissing her breasts leaving marks on the sides of them you move down to her torso. Giving sweet and soft kisses occasionally leaving a hickey or two, you make it down to her covered pussy, kissing above the lacey garment you tease her. “Please y/n please please please I can’t” she begs “I got it I got it” you pull her underwear to the side she releases a sigh of relief not long after followed a scream of pleasure as you plunge your face into her sex, lapping up whatever juices are flowing and gently sucking on the bundle of nerves at the top. “N-not so.. fast y/n... I won’t… I won’t last!!” she manages out through broken whimpers and cries, which only encourages you to break her even more, make her cry out an orgasm, make her the best little pet you could ask for. You stick a ring and middle finger inside of her while your mouth focuses on her clit, not that pushes her over the edge. Her mind blanks and all she can see is white, you speed up to enhance her orgasm, you’re then met with the strong bursts of fluid that fall from her. “She’s a squirter huh” you think to yourself hungrily lapping up as many juices as possible, “mmhmm y/n y/n y/n ahh please you’re so-” her body twitches “you’re so amazing mmm”. You remove your fingers and place her panties back where they belong, sitting up adoring her aroused figure you spit out “you think you’d top me huh?” followed by a cheeky grin and a condescending giggle.

The car lights up and a ring echoes “Ymir” flashes on the dashboard “incoming call”...

THE EEENNNDDD pt.2

AHHHHHH IM SO OVERWHELMED BY THE POSITIVITY AND LOVELY FEEDBACK I LOVE YALL AWHHHH!!! I will continue to write and upload for this series!! Thank you for the patience *muah*

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

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

pairing: lee jeno x reader

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

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

main masterlist // story masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

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

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

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

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

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

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

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

y/n: also ur literally never late 

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

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

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

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

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

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

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

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

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

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

[7:57 AM] 

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

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

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

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

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

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

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

“The Bachelor?”

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

“Ah. I see.”

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

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

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

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

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

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

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

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

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

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

"San Choi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 

 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 

 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?” 

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal." 

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 4/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: no Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary:  after enjoying a walk through the gardens with nikolai, you watch as he gets shot right in front of you Warnings: mentions of blood, bullet wounds, language, angst Word count: 2.2K A/N: after the cliffhanger in the last part here’s what happens next ;) also how long do people have to recover after a Grisha has healed them? I don’t have a single clue. enjoy reading! PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting@im-constantly-fangirling @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 (if your name is in bold it means I couldn't tag you) add yourself to my tag lists here  

It’s like everything happens in slow motion. The way Nikolai falls to the floor. The way the white fabric of his shirt slowly turns to red. And then your senses kick in, and you rush to his side.

‘Are you alright?’ you say as you drop to your knees beside him.

‘I’m perfectly fine.’ he groans, despite his wounds. 

‘Don’t fucking say that. You got shot, you’re not fine.’ you harshly say, hastily moving so you can sit more comfortably beside him. 

Despite his injuries, Nikolai still manages to raise his eyebrows at you. 

‘Sorry.’ you say. ‘I didn't mean to sound harsh. I tend to say the first things that come to mind when someone’s hurt.’

You move to rip off a piece of the hem of your dress. 

‘Already taking the dress off, huh? At least have a dance with me first.’ he says. 

How could he possibly still flirt after being shot twice? You ignore him as you use the piece of your dress to bind his shoulder.

‘This might hurt.’ you murmur as you pull it tightly around his shoulder. You hear Nikolai curse, but don’t respond. Instead, you move to see to his stomach.

‘Where did you learn how to do that?’ he asks.

‘I live in Ketterdam.’ you simply say.

You look at him. Laying on his back, blonde hair a mess and the skin of his face slightly more pale. Yet he still managed to look good. You put the thought out of your head and focus on his wounds again.

‘I’m going to have to put pressure on your stomach, but it’s going to hurt.’ you say.

Nikolai motions to you with his hand. ‘Do whatever you have to do to stop me from bleeding out, sweetheart.’ he says.

You nod and lay your hands on his stomach, pressing down hard. Nikolai groans and his hand instinctively flies to lay on top of yours. 

‘I must say, this is the most interesting first date I’ve ever been on.’ he says.

You briefly look at him before turning your attention back to his stomach. ‘Not a date.’ you say.

‘Really?’ he says. ‘Are you going to tell me you just wandered off to the garden with absolutely no intention of meeting a king?’

‘Sounds about right.’ you say.

‘I find that hard to believe.’ says Nikolai.

‘Don’t get me wrong, but I really meant it when I said I have no intention of marrying you or spending another minute at the palace.’ you say.

‘Such a shame.’ says Nikolai, groaning again when you put more pressure on his stomach. ‘You’re nice company.’

‘You’re only saying that because you lost blood and I’m trying to prevent you from losing any more.’ you say.

You turn to look at Nikolai, who still manages to smile at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of yet another gunshot drowns out his words.

‘Saints.’ you curse, when you feel the bullet hitting you in the arm. Despite getting shot, you don’t remove your hands from Nikolai’s stomach. ‘This trip is getting more and more interesting by the minute, I have to give you that.’ you say. ‘I’m used to being shot at in Ketterdam, but I thought the palace grounds would be different.’

You feel blood slowly leaking down your bare arm, like a warm stream of liquid. 

‘I have to get help, but I can’t leave you.’ you say. ‘Do you have any idea on how to get someone out here without one of us leaving?’

As if they heard you, several people run toward you. You notice all of them wearing kefta’s, except for two of them, who wear olive coloured clothing. Though you don’t recognise their faces, you had heard plenty of stories from Nina about Nikolai’s triumvirate and his personal guards. 

A woman in a red kefta rushes toward you. ‘What happened?’ she says, looking from you to Nikolai.

‘We just got back from a walk in the gardens. He was about to enter the ball room again, when he got shot.’ you explain. 

‘I told you not to leave the ball room.’ she says, glaring at Nikolai.

‘Can you blame me, Genya?’ says Nikolai. ‘There was a particular woman who would refuse to stop dancing, she made it very hard to slip away.’

‘This is what happens when you don’t listen to us.’ groans Genya as she looks at his wounds. ‘Did you bind your own shoulder?’

Nikolai shakes his head. ‘Y/N did.’ 

Genya looks at you, the alarmed look on her face slowly fades and her features soften. ‘Thank you.’ she says. ‘We’ll take it from here. Did you see where the shooter went?’

‘The shots came from there.’ you say, motioning with your head to a line of trees behind you. Immediately, a woman in a blue kefta and the two people in olive clothing head to the spot you pointed to. 

Genya looks to the only Grisha who is still there. ‘David, help me get Nikolai up. We have to get him to a healer.’ she tells him. 

David nods and moves closer. You’re hesitant to remove your hands from his wound. 

‘It’s alright, Y/N.’ says Nikolai when he notices your hesitation. ‘They know what they’re doing, and we have healers standing by.’ 

You nod at him and remove your hands from his stomach. Immediately, more blood starts to leak out of his wound. But David is quick to put his hands on it as Genya helps Nikolai to his feet. 

Just as they start walking, Genya looks over her shoulder at you. She smiles at you. ‘You need to come as well, you got shot too.’ she says.

In all the chaos, you had forgotten you got shot as well. But now that you realise it, it’s like the pain you didn’t feel at first comes flooding back. 

‘Right.’ you say as you follow them, wrapping a hand around your own wound.

You’re grateful to see Genya and David are leading you through halls far away from the ball room. Your hands are covered in blood, as well as one of your arms. And your dress is torn at the bottom, and also stained with blood. The last thing you wanted was for people to see you like that.

You soundlessly follow the three people ahead of you. You don’t even register the riches surrounding you, or wonder about the closed doors you pass. Your arm is painfully throbbing and despite your hand on your arm, you can still feel blood leaking down your arm.

Both you and Nikolai leave a trail of red drops behind as you walk. You’re feeling a bit guilty about it, but then you remember there’s plenty enough Grisha around to make the blood trail disappear in seconds.

Ahead of you, Genya and David lead Nikolai into a room. You follow them and see you’re in a room with several beds. One of them is occupied, but because of the curtains around it, you can’t see who’s in it. 

Genya and David help Nikolai lay down in one of the beds, and a healer rushes to his side. You watch as they put curtains around his bed as well, giving him some privacy. You know you shouldn’t listen to them, but a small part of you can’t help but to feel worried. After all, he got shot right in front of you.

‘Ma’am?’

The sudden voice next to you startles you. You turn to see a healer looking at you.

‘Is it okay if I heal your arm?’ he says.

Once more, you had completely forgotten you got shot as well. You nod and allow him to lead you to one of the beds as well. You sit down and watch as the healer starts to work on your arm. 

You’ve never seen a Grisha healer working up close. You’d seen Nina use her power, but she had explained to you that she was a heartrender, not a healer. You watch in amazement as the flesh on your arm seems to melt back together, not even leaving a small trace. No one would be able to tell you got shot. 

After he’s done, you thank the healer and get up, moving toward the door.

‘Leaving so soon?’ 

You turn around upon hearing the familiar voice. The curtains around his bed had been removed, and Nikolai is already sitting up, looking at you.

‘I’m going back to Ketterdam.’ you say. 

‘Well, then, you’d want to catch the first boat. Maybe avoid your father, I can’t imagine him being happy with your choice. Best to take the fastest horse we have.’ he says.

If Genya and David seemed confused or surprised by his words, they didn’t show it. You’re perplexed, but nod at Nikolai.

‘Thank you for the flower.’ you say. ‘And the walk. It was nice.’

With a last smile, you leave the room. You walk through the halls, trying to find a way out. It seems like whoever had built the palace, had designed it to be a maze. 

You occasionally stop to listen if you can hear the music from the ball room. But the halls are quiet, aside from your footsteps. And the last thing you wanted to do was trace your footsteps back and ask Nikolai for a way out. 

Ahead of you, someone walks around the corner. You recognise the blue kefta. She was with the other Grisha who rushed to Nikolai’s aid outside. You quickly walk up to her.

‘Hi.’ you say. ‘Do you know the way out of here? This place is a maze.’

She looks at your torn and blood stained dress. If she was curious, she hid it very well. You couldn’t read the expression on her face. Just as you think she might not even talk to you, she points to the hallway she just came from.

‘Down that hall, take a left at the end of it and then the second hall on your right.’ she says.

‘Thank you.’ you say, and you walk past her. You feel her eyes burning in your back, but don’t look behind you. 

You follow her instructions, and feel relieved when you see the tall doors and the staircase that leads outside. Just as you start to walk down the stairs, you hear someone shout your name behind you.

‘Saints.’ you mumble to yourself and you briefly close your eyes in frustration. You knew that voice all too well. You turn around to face your father. 

His face is reddened with anger as he looks at you, and he takes a few steps toward you.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he says, his words cutting harshly through the air. He then notices your ruined dress. ‘And what happened to your dress? That was expensive. Why weren’t you at the ball?’

‘I told you I didn’t want to go. Did you really expect me to stay?’ you say. You really didn’t feel like fighting with him right now. Despite not attending the ball, you were tired. You wanted to go home. 

‘This was the chance of a lifetime! Don’t you see how ungrateful you are? Slipping away right before I was going to introduce you to the king? You could have married a king, and that marriage could have made me rich. Now I’m just going to have to marry you off to another merchant.’ he says, his voice growing louder with each sentence. 

You open your mouth to protest, to defend your choices, but stop abruptly when you see someone emerging from the doors behind your father. 

Nikolai had fixed his hair and changed his bloodied shirt for a clean one. If you hadn’t been right there when he got shot, you wouldn’t be able to tell he got hurt at all. He smiles at you before stepping closer to your father, who didn’t realise someone is standing behind him. 

‘I’m afraid you can’t marry her off to a merchant, sir.’ says Nikolai politely. ‘I’ve picked Y/N as my bride.’ 

Your father turns around and the both of you stare at Nikolai with wide eyes. But Nikolai merely smiles at you and offers you his arm. ‘Shall we go inside?’ he says.

You quickly go over your chances in your head. If you would go back to Ketterdam, which you had wanted since you boarded the ship in the harbour, you would probably marry a merchant who would be at least thirty years older. 

If you went with Nikolai, at least you had a chance to think it all over, and make your own decision. And your father wouldn’t be able to control your life, no matter how hard he’d try to. 

Nikolai still holds out his arm to you, smiling at you. You look at his hazel eyes and nod slightly. You walk up the steps and lay your hand on his arm. Without even sparing your father a glance, you allow Nikolai to lead you right back into the palace you’d sworn to walk away from.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[asterekmess]

Heyo! So I’ve been in the sterek fandom for quite some time now and I’ve been wondering about how you would describe stiles’ personality?

I’ve never actually sat down and watched a full episode of teen wolf (and honestly I’m not sure if I ever will considering everything I’ve heard about how they treat derek and his history but idk who knows I’m very curious in a lot of the plot lines and character development), and a lot of the stuff I know about the show I’ve scraped from fics, gifs, and meta posts

For me personally, Stiles’ personality and characterization is so fluid and nuanced that sometimes I have trouble pinning him down (tho derek doesn’t have trouble with that *wink wink*) So I would love to hear your thoughts! Sorry for the long ask, this grew legs and an ugly mug shdhdhhdjdcj anyhow have a great day :D

Well, everybody's got different perspectives and opinions on Stiles' personality, honestly. Even when you try to stick to 'canon' things, there's a lot of room for interpretation on the why when he does things, or what it says about him as a person, etc etc etc.

Personally, I see canon Stiles as kind of an asshole. I mean, I love him, and he does some incredible things, and he's clearly got an intense love for those close to him. But I do make him kinder in fics, or I at least make him regret being a dick.

In canon, we're given a Stiles who cracks 'dead baby' jokes (he's talking about human sacrifice, so the conversation was already plenty morbid. This wasn't out of the blue.) Who begs for Scott to let Jackson die (though it's made clear that this wasn't serious, and he later works to save Jackson's hide like ten times over), and who will mercilessly poke and prod at people's insecurities or painful pasts, especially when worked up. Isaac's previous abuse isn't a no-go topic. Derek having 'dated' (read: been assaulted at worst and at best, been lied to) serial killers isn't something he's going to tread lightly around. He doesn't try to soften things to save someone's feelings most of the time.

He's presented as someone who is incredibly impulsive, with his emotions, words, and actions. It's kind of implied this is because of his ADHD, but that doesn't explain how often the impulsively cruel or harsh things he says aren't retracted or apologized for, or just generally regretted. Yes, ADHD people are impulsive, and yes sometimes our mouths get away from us and we can end up saying some Fucked Up shit to people because we literally couldn't control the words coming out. But that doesn't mean we're cruel or evil or mean. We still feel bad for doing those things, and those of us who are decent people, try to fix or repair what we've messed up. I am...not a fan of how often ADHD is used as an excuse to make a character a dickhead because "he has no filter." No filter means we struggle to control our thoughts and what we say, it doesn't make us heartless.

So, when I'm writing him, I fix it. Even if he still Does something fucked up, I have him care that he did it. I have him realize what he did or said wasn't okay and respond to that knowledge in some way. Which to some people, means I'm just ignoring what a fucker he is, but imo it feels like a horrible fuckup on the creator's parts, so I'm just correcting the mistake. He's no less Stiles just bc I taught him to say sorry.

Anyway. I'm trying NOT to ramble here.

To answer your question, as best I can; Stiles is sarcastic. Stiles is passionate to a fault. His emotions are BIG, whatever they are. Good, Bad, or even apathy. Whatever feelings he has are just intense. He is very much a no gods, no kings, no masters, kind of man. There isn't really an 'authority' to him, except maybe his dad sometimes. He puts family, and those he considers family, First. But that doesn't mean he isn't selfless. Because he is. Incredibly so. Uncomfortably so.

He walks into gasoline for his friends. He puts himself in the position of losing the only parent he has left, for his classmates. He cares enough about strangers to insist a drunk girl he's spoken to for five minutes max stay hydrated and give her a bottle of water. He literally handed over his mind on a platter to a fox demon for someone he barely fucking knew, to keep her safe.

Loyal. Humorous. A fighter. Family-oriented. Clever. Passionate. Strong, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And a very good liar, in my opinion.

He doesn't lie very well in the show, not to people's faces. He'll stumble around a "I haven't seen him since the last time I saw him" or "are you asking me to tell you what I would have told you if I were going to tell you it?" but at the same time, he can repress and hide away his feelings and his pain in a way not even Derek manages.

He asked Caitlin questions about her girlfriend, and worked to solve the human sacrifices, literal minutes after finding out he'd just lost his oldest friend. He drove Lydia to the warehouse to save Jackson after having the shit beat out of him by a man who'd been learning to cause pain since he was a CHILD. And he never gives away how incredibly broken he is for more than a couple seconds. and it's a little frightening, because he convinces people in this show who are lie detectors that he's okay, when he's a fucking mess. Even Derek shows his pain.

You're right that he's nuanced, and part of that is because when you see him in meta or in fic, what you're seeing is a dozen versions of him sort of compressed into a flat image. Because he changes throughout the show, and while some of his core personality stays the same, a lot of stuff changes. So one fic might harp on his insensitivity, and callousness toward Isaac or how easily he says "just let them die" when talking about Derek or someone else. And then another will dive into how fucking far he's willing to go, travelling all the way to mexico and facing down a hunter clan a dozen times more powerful than the argents with no one but a banshee at his side, just to get Derek back. Or how he saw Malia hurting and sat with her on a couch and held her hand. One is a much earlier version of Stiles, from the start of the show, the other from his midpoint. Near the end, you're able to say that he was so torn about leaving Derek while he was dying, he had to be Begged to go save Scott. That he manipulated an ENTIRE FBI investigation in order to save and protect Derek. (im focusing on derek bc sterek, but also bc his relationship with Derek is the Biggest Arc he has in the show, and the most solid)

You're going to read about different versions of him, and I totally get how that's confusing.

We all sort of bleed ourselves into him and either bring certain canon characteristics to the forefront, or straight up add our own so he's more relatable to us.

So while I can't really help you pin down any specific Stiles, just know that there's not really a 'true' Stiles that anyone can confirm or deny. It's all just perception, so however you see him, go with it. Strengthen it. Explore it. I'm sure you'll find people who see what you do.

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 17

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Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

————

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 17

Edinburgh

June 1746

Edinburgh proved difficult to search. One lone carriage was hardly something of note for residents of Edinburgh, and that besides, Claire was quite certain this was where that particular journey had ended. They had no way of knowing where in the city Jamie and Faith would’ve gone once they’d arrived. So they checked every tavern, inn, and boarding house they could find, hoping they weren’t too late, that Jamie and Faith hadn’t moved on to some other place.

It was once again the horse, of all things, that gave them hope.

They were walking through a bustling market when Fergus stopped so abruptly in front of Claire that she nearly knocked him over. “Fergus, what are you‒”

His gaze was frozen on something ahead. “It’s Donas, Milady.”

“What?”

He didn't wait another second and surged forward into the crowd, leaving Claire and Murtagh to scramble after him. When they caught up to him, they were both brought almost nose-to-nose with a black horse that was unmistakable to them.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire whispered tightly, eyes widening at the sight before her. Donas was tucked back into a stall just off the busy street, but his head swung curiously over the wooden gate.

She glanced about, trying to get her bearings. If Donas was here, then‒

“Get back!”

The three of them startled at the sharp voice, Claire’s hand flying to Fergus’s shoulder as if that could shield him. Off to their right, a man had appeared ‒ a blacksmith by trade if his gritty, grimy appearance was any indication. “Unless ye want tae lose a hand. That beast is the devil’s own.”

Donas reared back suddenly, as if he understood and took offense. Claire was used to the horse’s attitude, but his timing always was something else, she thought. The blacksmith only took this as confirmation of what he’d just said, nodding sharply toward the horse with wide-eyed suspicion.

“See? He kens it.”

“That is not‒” Fergus began. Claire squeezed his shoulder.

“Please, can you tell us where we might find the owner of this horse?”

The blacksmith’s gaze shifted over the three of them, considering. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest and leveled a withering gaze at Claire. “Ye’re lookin’ at ‘im.”

“What?” She balked. Her gaze flew back to Donas, looking him over more discerningly. It had to be him. Then…?

“When did you acquire him?”

“I dinna see why ye need tae know.”

It was clear the man was growing tired of them, but before Claire could respond, Murtagh had fired back a reply. “I dinna see what harm there is in answering the lass.”

The blacksmith hardly concealed his annoyance but threw his hands up in defeat. “If it’ll make ye leave. A man brought him ‘round last week and sold him to me‒”

Claire felt her breath leave her lungs in a rush. A week ago. They’d never been this close before. A light, buoyant feeling filled her.

“‒ under false pretenses, mind. Tha’ horse was docile as a wee lamb when he brought ‘im here. Soon as he’s gone, I was dealing wi’ a demon.”

“Maybe you should‒”

Whatever Fergus was about to say, Claire was certain it wouldn’t have been flattering. And she needed more from this conversation still.

“Last question and then we’re out of your hair.” She felt an odd flutter in her stomach at the thought of what answers they might be able to walk away with. “What can you tell me about the man who sold you the horse?”

  They’d come to stay so long in Edinburgh that Faith’s understanding of “home” was beginning to solidify around the place they’d resided there: Mary’s aunt’s house. And while the streets were still crawling with soldiers, Jamie had gone so long without incident or recognition that the wariness was fading each time he stepped outside.

Mary's aunt had been hospitable in opening her home to Jamie and Faith when they arrived with Mary, though Jamie got the distinct impression that she wasn't exactly thrilled with this arrangement, given that she knew he was a Scot.

Still, it was a safe haven while they waited for sea passage to open up again.

Jamie entered the house, lugging his bundle of purchases, and was almost immediately greeted by Faith's high-pitch squeal from the other room. He paused, wondering if it was a squeal of excitement or some sort of fit.

There was a bustle of movement up ahead from the parlor and then Faith tumbled out into the hallway, tripping on the hem of her dress. It was new to her, an old dress belonging to one of Mary's cousins, and they were adjusting it for Faith.

"Da!"

Happy squeal, then.

He grinned broadly and dropped to one knee as Faith toddled over to him, nearly tripping again as she reached him. "Did ye behave for yer Auntie Mary, then?"

She didn't respond to him, only looped her slight arms around his neck and started to hang from him, giggling all the while.

"Alright then, ye wee fiend," he laughed, scooping her up as he moved to stand.

By now, Mary had appeared at the threshold and greeted him before they all moved into the parlor. Jamie noted that none of the other inhabitants of the house were in the room and breathed a sigh of relief. He was abundantly grateful to be able to keep Faith sheltered here, but he had no great desire for the company of near strangers ‒ especially those who looked down their nose at him.

“I’ve had a letter from my father,” Mary announced.

“Aye?”

“He’s sending my younger brother to escort me back to my father’s estate.”

Jamie nodded at that, though he wasn’t sure how he should feel. “And how did he take yer news?”

“Oh quite well,” Mary said swiftly. “I knew he would. Of course he wishes I wasn’t so recently widowed, since he’ll have to make arrangements for me to be married again. But there’s no shame in being widowed and with child.”

Jamie took a deep breath, ready to dive in on that comment, but thought better of interfering in her family matters and bit his tongue instead.

“Find everything you were looking for?” Mary asked.

“Oh aye.” Jamie pulled out the fresh ginger he’d purchased. There had been a number of items he’d needed to prepare for the upcoming voyage, but none quite so important as the very thing he held up for Mary to see. “For my seasickness,” he explained and then grinned ruefully. “Canna seem to so much as set foot on a ship wi’out getting sick.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s no’ a pretty sight, I’m sure.”

“What will you do with Faith?”

Jamie’s gaze dropped to Faith in his lap and he swallowed roughly. “I dinna have much choice but to pray the ginger tea keeps me standing. I canna afford to get sick.”

Mary fell silent at that, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap.

But he knew even without her saying it that it was a foolish endeavor. He knew how sick he became on sea voyages and without anyone else with them, he ran the risk of becoming too sick to care for his child. But what other choice did he have?

“I could go with you.”

Mary’s words were spoken so softly, he almost didn’t catch them. His head snapped up and he stared at her. “You canna be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious!”

“It’s‒ I mean no offense to ye, Mary. It’s only… well, yer brother is already on his way and‒”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll just leave word here with my aunt telling him where we’ve gone. He can follow after and escort me back, same as he intended before.”

“That hardly seems fair to him. How old is the lad?”

Mary hesitated briefly. “George is fifteen, he’s old enough.”

Jamie swore under his breath. “We dinna even know where we’re headed yet. Could be as far as the colonies. And even if ye did accompany us on the journey and instructed yer wee brother to follow us… by time he arrives, ye willna be fit to make the journey again wi’ the bairn coming. You’ll have to have the baby in another country, alone.”

“I’ll be alone no matter where I am,” Mary pointed out and Jamie immediately regretted his words. “Doesn’t matter if I’m in Italy or France, the colonies or my father’s estate.”

Jamie sighed. “I still dinna like the idea. Ye’re finally safe here and under no obligation to help us further. I’m already indebted to ye for getting us this far. No, I couldna ask that of ye.”

“Good thing you didn’t ask then.” Mary straightened her spine. “And it’s… it’s me who’s indebted to you. If you hadn’t come to Inverness, I’d still be‒”

Jamie raised a hand in silent pleading. After all they’d been through since he’d knocked on her door in Inverness, there simply was no keeping score of how they’d aided one another. And he valued her friendship too highly to think of it as mere transactions.

He sighed loudly, hating the idea but seeing that determined look in Mary’s eye.

“Besides,” Mary added, “I’m not really doing this for you.”

He smiled cheerlessly, once again turning his gaze back to the red-headed toddler in his lap. For Claire, she’d said at the start. And it had never escaped his notice just how much Mary risked to repay Claire’s kindness, her friendship. “Well, I thank ye for it. Truly. Ye’re a good friend, Mary Hawkins.”

The evenings were always bittersweet in Edinburgh. It meant putting Faith to bed, a small routine that they’d carved out no matter where they were, and a time that Jamie always treasured. And it also meant once his child was asleep that there was nothing to preoccupy his mind, to keep his anguished thoughts at bay.

But before then, his complete attention was always on Faith.

“C’mere, lass.”

He scooped her up and headed toward the nursery where Faith slept. He felt her head rest heavy on his shoulder as they went, and her small hand patted his opposite shoulder gently.

He was helping her change into her nightgown when she sneezed. Three times in quick succession.

“Something tickling yer nose, a nighean?” he said lightly, though his hand went to her forehead and tried to gauge her temperature. Felt normal, but there was a small voice in the back of his mind ‒ Claire’s voice ‒ reminding him that unless the fever was very high, it was often hard to discern if someone had a fever by merely feeling for it.

Faith rubbed her nose with the back of her pudgy hand and looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Christ, I hope ye’re not sick.”

He took her wee face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her hairline, then rested his cheek there for a moment. She felt a little warm, but did that mean…?

Faith’s little hands wormed their way between them and pushed his face away. “No’ sick.”

He chuckled and pulled back, startled by her boldness, her certainty. A pint-sized force of nature, even if she was ‒ perhaps ‒ feeling under the weather.

But God in Heaven! He wished Claire was here for this. For all of it with Faith, but especially this. She would know better than him what to do if Faith got sick.

“Ye ready for bed then?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No’ yet, Da.”

“Not yet?”

Again, she shook her head, this time with a hint of a smile on her face. The more she learned to talk, the better she became at delaying her dreaded bedtime. She burst into a flood of speech ‒ not much of which was intelligible to Jamie, but she had something to say nonetheless ‒ which ended promptly with the word “story.”

“Ah. Ye’ll be wanting yer bedtime story then, is tha’ it?”

A curt nod from Faith.

“Aye, I can oblige ye there, mo chridhe.”

He stood and watched Faith scurry over to the small bed that was all her own. As was their nightly ritual, he situated Faith off to one side and pulled the covers up for her before carefully easing his six-foot-four frame onto the comically small bed, curled onto his side with his feet hanging over the ledge. A gentle breeze could’ve knocked him backwards off of the bed, but this was what he’d done the first night in this strange house when Faith had been too scared to sleep alone. Now, she slept well enough so long as he was there to tuck her in, give her a story. Once she was asleep, he would move her more towards the center of the bed before he left and retired to his own room.

“What story would ye like tonight, a nighean?”

“My mam?”

He exhaled a laugh. They were always about Faith’s mam. Even while he worried that Faith would never truly know Claire, it couldn’t stop him from wanting to talk about her to Faith. To help her understand the magnitude of Claire’s love for her, and that it wasn’t Claire’s fault that she wasn’t here now with Faith.

“Aye, I can tell ye about yer mam,” Jamie agreed softly. He started as he always did ‒ with a memory of Claire, whatever came to him in the moment. And he’d simply talk for as long as Faith needed, weaving one memory into another until he noticed her eyelids getting heavy, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm.

“Ken yer mother was verra canny,” he prefaced his next story, slipping subconsciously into past-tense when he spoke of Claire. “What she didna ken about healing could fit in a shoe. After the Battle of Prestonpans, I was so weary and hurting ‒ got stepped on by a horse that day, ye ken, and och yer mam was furious wi’ me ‒ but I came back into the cottage to watch her, tending to the injured men. She was tireless and so determined…”

When Faith was finally out, he reached over and felt her forehead again, battling a sinking feeling that Faith truly was coming down with an illness. She’d been sniffling and sneezing, but that could be nothing. Or it could be the first sign of something more.

“A Dhia…”

He ached for Claire every minute of the day ‒ needed her like the very breath in his lungs ‒ but he’d never felt so wretchedly helpless without her until this moment. What would he do if Faith became sick?

Panic squeezed his heart in a vice grip. She was all he had now. Faith, still so wee and fragile, was the only thing keeping Jamie from careening off into the dark. And suddenly, he wasn’t even sure he could do this on his own.

He wanted to steal away back to the stones with Faith, to find some way to fix this. She should be with Claire ‒ she should’ve always been with Claire ‒ and it wasn’t right that they had been separated. That Faith couldn’t travel like her mother could.

Since he was a lad, he had a habit of speaking to his departed brother, Willie. Since Willie had been the oldest, he rightly should’ve been laird. So much of Jamie’s life growing up had been the result of Willie’s death. Honors that would normally befall the oldest son passed to Jamie instead, like fostering with his Uncle Dougal or continuing his studies in Paris. This had always been front of mind for Jamie, and when faced with a decision as Laird, he found it only respectful of Willie’s memory to ask his older brother’s thoughts on choices that should’ve been his to make.

Aye, the dead had a way of living with Jamie. He hadn’t only talked to Willie, but to the plovers along the shore, which legend said carried the souls of young mothers lost in childbirth. And he’d done this for years before he lost his da, but never once in the time since Brian Fraser’s death had he spoken to his father.

But suddenly, he found himself longing to pour his heart out to his departed father, in conversations he’d been too hesitant to have with the weight of Jamie’s misplaced guilt over Brian’s death. Suddenly, more than anything, he ached for one last conversation with his da.

“How did ye do it, Athair?” he whispered in the still room the question that had been plaguing him. He was intimately familiar with the pain his father would’ve suffered when his mam died. “How did you keep on living wi’out yer heart?”

The answer was there before him in the sleeping form of Faith. His father had survived for his and Jenny’s sakes, carried them through their grief and gave them hope. And though it felt impossible, though everything within him screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Jamie would do the same for Faith as his father did for him. “I ken now the pain ye were trying to hide, Athair. But ye raised me and Jenny well despite it all. Help me do the same.”

His hand gently brushed over Faith’s wispy curls as he then addressed his sleeping child. “I’ve told ye plenty about yer mam, but nothing of my mam and da. We’ll need tae remedy that. Another time.”

He breathed in deep and then sighed heavily. “My da only ever kent me as a lad. Sometimes I wonder… if he saw me as I am today, would he be proud of me now? Would he approve of who I’ve become? And would I be much different from who I was before... or would he still recognize me as his son?”

His thumb softly stroked at her hair just above her temple before tucking a few wayward locks behind one tiny ear. “But I look at ye, Faith, and… there’s nothing ye could do that would ever change how I love ye. How I’m bursting at the seams with pride o’er ye. And that’s one thing I ken my da would’ve been very proud of,” he shifted slowly and pressed a kiss to Faith’s head before he finally stood, “My bairns.”

  It had been a week since they’d found Donas and they still didn’t have a crumb of information for where Jamie and Faith might be.

“Would it have been better to wait at Lallybroch in case he sent word? Before we went trampling across the country in search of him…” Claire wondered aloud.

“That would have taken months to wait for news to arrive.” Murtagh eyed her protruding belly, just starting to appear noticeable to others under all her layers of clothing. “Ye dinna have that kind of time to wait around.”

Claire sighed. “Aren’t we just waiting here, until we find a trace of him? Doesn’t feel much different.”

Murtagh didn’t reply, just made that Scottish sound low in the throat and eased into a chair.

There was a boyish shout from outside and Claire’s gaze flickered over to the window. Fergus was out in the street with another boy, playing some sort of game. She’d told him to go run some energy off after he’d been driving her up a wall all afternoon within the cramped confines of their rented room. They’d had no lead on Jamie even after finding Donas and that had hit Fergus hard. But even worse had been walking away without the horse that Fergus had loved so dearly ‒ all the time wondering why Jamie had sold him in the first place.

“What if they’re already gone from here? How long do we wait ‒ how long can we wait before the money is gone?”

They’d had no collateral of their own to offer up for the horse and even though they had some money ‒ money that they’d carefully skimped and saved during their journey before arriving in Edinburgh ‒ it wouldn’t last forever.

Murtagh grunted softly again. He’d heard her, he just didn’t have an answer.

Claire had even tried offering her services as a healer here when they first arrived. But Edinburgh was a bustling Lowland city, not a remote Highland village, and where those small populations would flock to Claire, the people of Edinburgh turned their nose up at her ‒ a strange woman they had no cause to trust or even to need in a large city such as this. So even the small hope of word getting out to Jamie of a Sassenach woman healer had quickly been dashed.

Her gaze sought out Fergus again and her heart sank in her chest. She wasn’t sure how much more disappointment they could shoulder before it became all too much. Or how much longer they could search before the only obvious solution was to turn home for Lallybroch.

Her hand fell to her belly. Murtagh was right about that at least. They didn’t have all that much time before there would be a baby to consider as well.

  The ports had reopened in Edinburgh ‒ but not without British control over what came in and out of the harbor. The sale of Donas helped provide enough to book passage on a ship, but they’d had to be careful in arranging it. Jamie had begun to notice the new broadsheets going up around Edinburgh and among them, one for Red Jamie. No doubt as the dust from Culloden began to settle, his disappearance hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

He had followed the captain of a cargo ship recently docked in Edinburgh into a tavern one night. The captain ‒ a Scot through and through ‒ and Jamie swapped tales over drinks well into the night and only once he was sure the good captain had been plied with enough drink to make him amiable did he bring up the request to book passage with him.

“Ye dinna even ken where we’re going,” the captain laughed, his cheeks ruddy from drink.

Jamie laughed too, though he realized he’d made a misstep. That it might sound more suspicious now than if he’d learned of the destination first. Instead he tried to play it off as being cavalier. “Tell ye the truth… it doesna really matter where ye’re going, so long as it’s away from here.”

The captain chuckled and shook his head. They negotiated the price and sealed the deal there at that tavern table. “Write yer names down for me. I’ll have them added to the ship’s manifest. We sail in three days. Dinna be late.”

“And where are we sailing for?” Jamie finally asked.

“Och I thought it didna matter!” The captain roared with laughter again and Jamie reminded himself he couldn’t strike the captain that was giving him a way out of Scotland.

The captain stood to his feet, a bit wobbly at first try. Jamie thought of Mary and how she planned to leave a letter for her brother to be able to follow. How could he follow if he didn’t know where they went?

He opened his mouth to speak, but the captain clapped him hard on the shoulder and said, “Le Havre, man. We’re only going so far as Le Havre.”

In three days’ time, Jamie, Mary, and Faith were at the docks ‒ Jamie with his hair recently dyed black to cover his roots and Faith with her red hair tucked under a bonnet and then the hood of her cape as a precaution.

They would need to be allowed past by the Redcoat checking the ship’s manifest, the only hurdle standing between them and freedom. And having spoken with the captain that night in the tavern, they couldn’t fall back on their old gimmick of Jamie-as-a-mute. But this was a calculated risk he knew he would take, hoping that the time and miles between here and Culloden would be enough to shed any suspicion that he might be Red Jamie.

“Name?”

He met the eye of the Redcoat staring him down. “Alexandre Beauchamp,” he said evenly, letting a little bit of his admittedly imperfect French accent bleed into his thick Highlander dialect in hopes that it would at least confuse him. Off the surprised look from the man, he added with an easy smile, “I get that look a lot. My father was a Frenchman but my mother a Scot. Ye can see for yerself which side I favored in looks.” He could hide the red hair, but the towering height, the build of a man descended from Vikings… that could not be so easily hidden.

“And your companions?”

“My daughter, Faith Beauchamp, and Mary Hawkins.”

The man’s gaze flicked between Jamie and Mary, and though Jamie’s heart felt as though it might beat right out of his chest, this conversation was flowing exactly as he’d anticipated. They were almost through.

“And your relation to Mistress Hawkins?”

“My late wife’s sister. She’s accompanying me to care for my child.” It wasn’t terribly far from the truth ‒ and it was a necessity now to be able to explain why Faith called her Auntie Mary.

“And your reason for journeying to Le Havre?”

“My father’s family is there. My grandfather is in poor health and I must return.”

The Redcoat looked him in the eye again and Jamie knew what question came next. “And are you a Jacobite or have you ever aided the Jacobites in any way, Mr. Beauchamp?”

“No.” He was met with a look of vague suspicion and he mustered every ounce of easy confidence into next words. “I am not nor have I ever been a Jacobite, or a Jacobite sympathizer for that matter. And I never aided their cause in any way. I am loyal to the crown.”

The Redcoat quirked one eyebrow at that and Jamie felt his stomach twisting into knots. “They all say that… now.”

But with a quick jerk of his head, the Redcoat dismissed them. Jamie blinked, stunned for a moment that it had been that easy. Because even without proof… the Redcoats could have treated him any way they wanted. That was their claim as victors. They didn’t need a reason to not let him through and that had been the one variable Jamie couldn’t have planned for ‒ the mercy of a Redcoat.

He shifted Faith to one arm and moved past the man, ushering Mary ahead of him up the gangway to the ship.

“Sir! Wait.”

He froze, hearing the Redcoat’s voice ring out. Mary stopped too and whirled around to look back at him. His hold on Faith tightened and he turned slowly.

The Redcoat stared at him curiously.

Jamie forced a smile. “Have I forgotten something?”

“As a matter of fact…” the man held out his hand. In his palm was Sawny, which Jamie had given to Faith to keep her occupied. She must’ve dropped it.

“Ah. I thank ye, Corporal.” He grabbed Sawny and handed it back to Faith. “I would’ve had a verra unhappy child on my hands had that been left behind.”

He wasted no time waiting for a response and turned with Faith to head back up the gangway where Mary still stood. “Let’s go,” he uttered under his breath when they reached her. The sooner they could be at sea, the safer he would feel.

What he hadn’t expected to feel was the loss.

He held Faith in his arms as he stood by the railing and watched Edinburgh fade farther and farther away. Watched his homeland fade away, knowing they’d likely never return.

“Christ,” he muttered, blinking fast against the unexpected sting of tears.

Faith stretched her arm out in front of her, towards land, and waved.

“Ye saying goodbye, a leannan?”

“G’bye,” she echoed in a soft, song-like voice.

Ah but he would do it all again in a heartbeat for her, no matter the cost. It was always for her, for her wellbeing and chance at a happy life.

She grinned up at him ‒ not a trace of sickness, though they’d dealt with the sneezing and runny nose for a few days before she was back to her usual self. “Ken you’re mine, a nighean, but ye dinna have to rub my nose in it that yer stomach is as hearty as a sailor’s,” he teased her before moving below deck, where Mary was waiting. His stomach was already rolling and it was only a matter of time…

 July 1746

Claire was writing a letter to Jenny ‒ an update without much news, but she still wanted to keep Jenny apprised ‒ when Murtagh burst into the room, startling her violently.

“Jesus Christ!”

Without giving her much time to recover, he dove breathlessly into the reason for his unsettling arrival.

“I just spoke with a deckhand down at the docks, just come back from Le Havre.” Murtagh’s eyes were aglow and Claire tried to temper the hope buoying in her chest. “He said he remembers someone that looked like Jamie who booked passage on the ship last time they came through here. Said he was sick as a dog the whole trip… and he had a wee lass with him.”

Claire was trembling and her simple question came out in a frantic whisper. “When?”

Murtagh smiled broadly, his chest still heaving as he tried to get the words out without stopping for a breath. “Just last month. They’re in France, a nighean. We found them.”

She hardly recalled how she went from sitting at the desk to being wrapped up in an almost painful hug from Murtagh, shouting with joy to keep herself from bursting into tears.

“What’s going on?”

She pulled away from Murtagh to see Fergus enter the room, concern etched into his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face even as her vision misted over with tears. Not just for her joy of being reunited with Jamie and Faith, but for Fergus’s as well. “Murtagh found them, love. We’re going home!”

When Fergus ran to embrace her, she nearly stumbled backwards from the impact of it. She cupped the back of his head and held him tight, rocking slightly.

“We’re going home.”

“D’ye have everything then, Mary?”

“I believe so.”

Jamie turned to help Mary up into the carriage. Upon arriving in France, they’d gone first to Jamie’s Uncle Alexander at the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, that being the closest and safest place to turn to. Jamie and Faith meant to stay on at the abbey a bit longer, but Mary needed to return to Paris, to her aunt and uncle who would welcome her into their home until her younger brother arrived.

“Wait. No. I did forget something in my room.” Mary turned and stepped down from the carriage. “I’ll be right back,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“It’s alright, lass. We have time.”

“Jamie!”

He turned to find his uncle exiting the abbey, making a path towards him. “Aye?”

“We’re expecting a delivery to the abbey today. Could you help them unload when it arrives?”

“Aye of course.”

It wasn’t long after his uncle had left him that he noticed the wagon jolting down the dirt road towards the abbey.

Nobody saw what spooked the horse pulling the wagon as it neared the carriage.

It happened too fast, the one horse trying to buck itself free of the wagon, and the team of horses hitched to the carriage panicking as a result.

One moment, Jamie was standing beside a carriage and the next, he was flat on his back with a searing pain in his leg and a crushing weight pinning his body down.

And then it all went black.

[2handsslan]

I found myself while loving you

Summary: Draco Malfoy, Slytherin King, one of the meanest boys at Hogwarts finds he might not be who thinks he is after all 

Pairing: Draco X Hufflepuff reader

Word Count: 2153

A/N: Helllooo loves!! So this is my first time EVER writing a fic so please go easy on me. Im so nervous to post this, but I want to start writing and I have to start somewhere! and see if I’m even good at it!! Honestly I don’t know if any of my followers read HP fandom fics but if you do please check this out, tell me what you think! AHHH anyways I hope you like it

Growing up we typically believe our parents can do no wrong. We hold them above everything and everyone. We learn to turn a blind eye to the wrong they sometimes do, even go as far as justifying it. 

This is exactly what Draco did when it came to his father. Mr. Malfoy could do no wrong in the eyes of his little boy, even though all he did was wrong. 

The only thing Draco wanted to do in life was to make his father proud, to be the spitting image of the man. He spoke like him, walked like him, held his head as high as he did. This didn't go unnoticed by his father, but this was not a “proud dad moment” type of situation. Lucious Malfoy took this as an opportunity to shape Draco into everything he wanted him to be, for his own personal gain.  

Draco being in one of the most infamous death eater families meant a dark light was shed on him. Welcoming this with open arms Draco became the meanest student at Hogwarts, from the very moment he stepped onto the train the first day of first year. 

Going into his fifth year, nothing has changed. 

-

Draco sat with his gang of Slytherins in the Great Hall, back pressed to the table, his long legs crossed at the ankles stretched out in front of him, waiting for the newest first years to enter and get sorted into their houses. He threw his head back in laughter at a joke Blaise made. As his head was falling back into place, the smile on his face disappeared and his eyes widening. ‘That couldn't possibly be Y/N Y/L/N… absolutely couldn't be.’ He thought to himself as you walked into the room. You had not looked as you did last year. You had not been ugly by any means, just you, nothing special. You matured quite a lot over the short summer break, turning into a very beautiful young woman. 

And he had definitely noticed. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of you. In his shock, he leaned over and roughly shook Blaise by his shoulder, “Is that Y/N?” 

“What? Merlin it is, she sure did change this summer.” Blaise said adding a whistle. 

You were the true definition of a Hufflepuff, hard-working, patient, loyal, and one of the sweetest girls you would ever meet. Your Y/E/C eyes constantly shine with happiness, sending sweet smiles to everyone who walked by, no matter the scowls or disgusted looks they gave. 

You made your way past the Slytherin table, eyes falling on Draco and sending him a small grin, tucking your hair behind your ear in nervousness. He had never looked at you like that before. Only taking notice of you when he was giving you an odd scowl as you walked past him and his friends in the hallway during previous years with a smile permanently etched on your face. You on the other hand had always taken notice of the Slytherin King. It was quite an odd thing, the sweetest Hufflepuff finding herself swooning over the meanest boy in their year. But you couldn't help it, you were simply intrigued by him. Wondering what made him the way he was. Wondering what had to have happened to make him so cold to others.  And also wondering what kind of things made him smile, and how you wished you could do those things, wished you could make him smile. You sort of felt like a creep, due to the fact that you had never even really spoken to each other outside of being partnered with each other for a Transfiguration project last year. But you couldn't help the butterflies you felt whenever you saw him.

Something inside Draco changed that very moment. For the past two years he had noticed you, not a lot, but just enough to wonder about you from time to time. It was like he was seeing you for the very first time and he needed to know you, to know everything about you. 

Throughout the entire sorting ceremony he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, where he was seated he had a perfect view of your side profile. He took notice in the way your eyelashes curled up, the soft freckles that dusted over our nose and cheeks, the way your head was slightly tilted as you watched the students with interest as they were sorted. 

Simply breathtaking he thought. 

As the first few weeks passed, things did not change. Draco spent every chance he got looking at you, trying to come up with an excuse to speak with you. Once again you had Transfigurations together. “Today you will be working in pairs to vanish a group of mice.” instructed Professor Mcgonnagal, “You may choose who you partner up with, begin.” 

Before he even realized what he was doing Draco had jumped up from his chair and was standing over your desk saying “Would you like to be my partner?” 

He was sure he shared the same shocked expression on your face. Cheeks turning a light pink you agreed. 

Neither of you spoke much during the class, stealing quick glances at one another more than words. After successfully vanishing all of your mice in record time, you turned to him, “Well I can see you have very much improved since last year” a small teasing smirk playing on your lips. 

“I'd like to think so,” he said shyly. This had to have been a mistake you thought, Draco Malfoy shy? Around you? No way, not possible. 

As the thoughts were running through your head you heard him speak again, “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? It's the first trip of the year.” 

It seemed you forgot how to speak, your mouth opened and then closed, your mind suddenly completely blank. 

“Nevermind, that was stupid, why would someone like you want to..” 

“I'd love to go with you” you practically yelled as you realized he was spiraling, probably thinking you would want to do anything but spend time with him. 

And then there it was, the smile that you rarely got to see, and you felt like your heart could burst. The bell rang and he stood up, “I'll meet you in front of the Great Hall after breakfast Saturday then,” he said, a smile still in full view. All you could do was nood, an expression of utter disbelief on your face. 

The rest of the week flew by and next thing you knew you were walking out of the doors of Hogwarts with Draco by your side. The two of you spent the day walking around the shops, and stopping for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. As much as you didn’t want to, you had always thought he had to be just as everyone said he was, mean. But you were completely wrong. As you got to know him more and more during your short time, you had a feeling there was a lot more to the boy. 

-

As the months past your time spent with Draco increased. Meeting in the corridors before and after classes, sneaking you to the Slytherin table during meals, and sneaking you into his dorm for late night cuddles every so often.

This was completely out of character for you by others standards but with him you had never felt more yourself. 

And Draco was feeling the exact same way. Slowly but surely his bad guy persona was fading, and people were starting to take notice. Word was getting around that he was becoming a different person. But he did not care anymore. 

“He has to be faking it, he has always been the nastiest boy to walk these halls.” 

“If his family could see him now they would not even recognize him..”

There was no way for him to not hear these things being said about him as he walked from class to class with you on his arm. And one day it finally hit him. They were right, he was not the same boy he had been the previous years, and he had you to thank for that. He realized now that this was him, this is how he was meant to be. 

He had spent his whole life before this trying to live up to his fathers attitude and beliefs that he had become something he wasn't. But he was done, he was done trying to please him, constantly miserable from never seeming to be able to. He was himself now.

-

Word about the way Draco changed so drastically had finally gotten to his father. And it could not have happened at a worse time. This Hogsmead trip he had asked his mother and father to meet him, wanting to introduce you to them. Surprisingly he was not at all nervous, just excited to finally have you meet his family, thinking they would love you just like everyone else did. 

The two of you sat in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop waiting for them to arrive. The door opened and Draco shot straight up, straightening his shirt and hair as his parents walked in. “Father, Mother, it's good to see you. You both look well.” he said. “As do you,” his father said simply. His mother sent him a small smile, from her position behind her husband. Sitting down Mr. Malfoy wasted no time speaking of the rumors he had been hearing about his son. “It has come to my attention that you have changed Draco, and not in a way I would categorize as acceptable.” “You've lost your mind if you think I am going to let you lose yourself,” he sent you a nasty side eyed look, “because of a silly girl.”

You felt Draco tense beside you and instinctively interlaced your fingers with his to try to calm him down. This did not faze you , you know the reputation his father had and did not fool yourself with the thought of him being overjoyed at his son's new attitude. 

Draco spoke as calmly as he could “The way I have been acting is certainly because of Y/N, in the sense that she has made me realize I do not want to be like my miserable father anymore.” He no longer cared if this was supposed to be a happy meeting, introducing his girl to his parents, no this was it, this was where he was going to break free of the hold his father had on him. This was where he was getting the stain of his family's name off of him. 

This seemed to shake his father to the core, realization hit him that he did not have control over his boy anymore, and he was now his own person. His mothers head was tilted down but Y/N could see the small smile on her face. She knew what Dracocould be, and she was proud he was becoming his own person. 

Without saying another word his father got up and stormed out of the shop, his mother throwing him a proud smile as she ran after his father. 

“Draco I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen,” You said sadly. 

Without saying anything he stood you up and pulled you into a kiss, breaking away to say “Let's get out of here,” with a smile on his face. 

You sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room late that night wrapped up in Draco’s arms. He was still reeling from the day's events, he had never felt more happy with himself. “I can't remember the last time I felt this good...” he spoke so softly you almost didn't hear him. You turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue. “I've spent as long as I can remember tied up in the idea that I needed to be just like my father to make him love me, but I don't want to do that anymore. I want to be who I am with you all the time, with everyone. It's much easier than being miserable all the time.” 

 You took his face in hands, your thumbs stroking his jawline, “I always knew there was more under that hard exterior, I'm happy I was able to help you let it out.” 

He dropped his forehead against yours, breathing deep, his lips landed on yours in the sweetest but most passionate kiss you had shared. It took your breath away and you were slightly panting as you broke apart. 

“The only love I ever wanted was from my father. But now, the only love I want is yours. An… and i love you more than i can tell you.” 

“And I love you just as much.”