#im also in my late twenties down and dont bounce the way i used to | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

quokkacore · 4 years ago

Text

with great power I [lee jeno]

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

pairing: lee jeno x reader

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

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

main masterlist // story masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM]

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

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

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

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

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

[7:52 AM]

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear

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

y/n: also ur literally never late

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

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

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

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

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

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

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

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

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

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

[7:57 AM]

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

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

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

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

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

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

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

“The Bachelor?”

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

“Ah. I see.”

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uh… ran a little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you.

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

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

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like her, Yeeun.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

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

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

“Fuck you, Huang.”

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

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

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

"San Choi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming!” San yelled back.

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

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

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

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

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

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

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

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

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

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

When you talk right to me

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving

You running back to me

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

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

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

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

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

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

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

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

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

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you left your keys."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed.

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

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

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped.

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

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

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

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

“Hand it over, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:36 PM]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs @crescentjen

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

206 notes · View notes

lostonehero · 4 years ago

Text

Maxie did not enjoy dwelling on his past, no not the recent past with Gyrdon and team magma, more of his childhood. Archie kept inviting him over for family events and it kept reminding him of his own family in Sinnoh. Nobody really asked they all assumed Maxie was from Honen even if he dressed weird, but that wasn't true. He never did want to go home too many bad memories.

Maxie thought back to his parents they were scientist, he had older siblings but he was never allowd to meet them, you see he was a accident he wasn't suppose to be born. His parent decided that it was great to have an extra child, Maxie didn't even get out of the womb before experimentation started. He shudders at the thoughts of the years of needles his body changing. Then he ran away at 16, he was a angry teen. Years of experiments and abuse woukd do that to him, camomile his soon to be camerupt was another pokemon he managed to escape with. He tried the gym challenge but it didn't truly appeal to him.

That's when he started to figure himself out, he liked men and that wasn't allowd so he started a protest which lead to creating a band. That was the best until the raid, he lost his arm that day and a few inches due to his spine being shattered. He lost his voice and had to wear glasses after pepper spray directly in his eyes and mouth.

He was arrested after a year of physical therapy he only arrived in Honen when he turned 23 after two years in prison. He was still angry so he started to research, maybe that is why he started team magma. He doesn't regret meeting his team and his admins they were like another family to him like his band once was.

Granted that is all over and he now sits next to Archie's father and mother they keep nudging him to ask Archie out. Maxie always refused, but he did have feelings for Archie but he was also 30 years his senior, and he didn't want Archie to bury him. He knows the only reason he survived that raid is what his parents done, and he also knows that his body is in terrible shape so he wouldn't want to put Archie in that position. Granted Archie loved his metal arm.

......

Maxie was zoning out as the conversation turned to background noise until Archie's father gave a slap to his back bringing him back to reality. "Uh yes?"

He snickers. "Archie tells me you're volunteering to help out research for us old me."

Maxie sighs "yeah it will help with my community service, I'm not expecting much its just me heading into a tube while machines buzz." He shrugs. "They didn't really explain things to me, but I don't mind because no needles."

"I see well if it works my son is still pining for you."

Maxie's face goes slightly red "its not that type of device."

Archie's father burst into laughter "ah you are easy to trase no wonder why my boy loves you."

Maxie sighs still conflicted with his feelings for Archie, that man knows barely anything about him and he is so young he doesn't deserve someone on there way out like Maxie. He frowns getting up. "Thank you for tonight but I fear I have an early morning tell everyone I left I dont want them blowing up my phone in worry for me."

He sighs and nods "Maxie im serious just give it a chance."

Maxie says nothing as he leaves

.......

Maxie enters the human sized test tube is what he is calling this. He just sighed Steven was watching excited to see the outcome. He didn't really want to think about this he wasn't really listening when they were explaining what was going to happen. Archie was also watching Maxie of course was red face since he is just in boxers.

Archie gave him a wink as the machine whirled to life. Maxie shivered feeling movement under his skin he always wanted to blame this on what happened during the raid, but he knew it was from his parents. He always hid or took care of whatever mutations he had. Call it self harm but after the raid it stopped probably due to the stress on his body. A pink and gray smoke vapor surrounds Maxie as he looses himself in his own thoughts. Until a burning hot pain enters in his lungs and he starts to cough, his vision blurs and he passes out.

.....

"...just look at him Shelly...... is this how he looked when he was younger...... I can see his muscles...... no I am not drooling."

That was Archie's voice, Maxie focused on that he remembered being in the tube then pain and then nothing. He took a deep breath and gives a heavy sigh no pain with that. Wait no pain? Maxie shot up sitting up straight. "What happened? " he studies his body something clicking in his head. "Why... no what uh where are my clothes."

"Maxie you're awake." Archie was like bouncing off the wall like an excited poochenya puppy. "So the experiment went sideways but you're ok and like 30 years younger."

Maxie was stunned he didn't know what else to say. He still had his metal arm, and he felt fine without pain, but he shivered feeling things move under his skin. "I- I uh I." His mind short circuits trying to process this.

Archie frowns. "Are you ok hot head?"

Maxie sighs smiling at that nickname. "Just let me get used to this."

.....

Its been a few weeks, and Archie cannot handle how good twenty something year old Maxie looks. He loved the older man before and now he can't stop drooling over how good he looks. Granted that hasn't stopped his concerned seeing weird things under Maxie's skin and he swore he felt horns when he messed up his hair the other day. It wasn't as if they were hurting Maxie it just looked uncomfortable.

Archie realized he knew very little about Maxie and how he grew up. He knew Maxie was from sinnoh and he used to dabble in music but thats about it. He sighs to himself he wanted to know more about his hot headed rival turned companion, but he didn't know how to start.

Maybe thats how he ended up bringing a drunk Maxie back to his place to stop him from traveling drunk this late. "Max you really need to limit yourself."

"Pshh Archie I can handle my liquor just fine." He says before puking in the bushes. "Mmh I still have no tolerance." He giggles to himself.

"Maxie I told you to limit yourself." Archie sighs this isn't the first time he has taken home a drunk Maxie. He just noticed Maxie drink more when family was brought up. He just asked if he had any siblings.

"Never met my siblings." Maxie mutters catching Archie off guard. "I was a mistake, I was never suppose to happen." He says cheerfully as of he was sharing good news. "So so so uh...." he giggles "I forgot what I was talking about."

Archie had a sinking feeling in his chest like he wasn't suppose to hear this. "Ok Max thats enough drinking for now." He knew drunk Maxie could not lie, and he also knew drunk Maxie loved to talk.

"But Archie I love you" Maxie giggles clinging onto Archie practically hanging on.

"Maxie when you're sober."

"But Archie."

"No "

Maxie pouts which looks pretty cute to Archie.

.......

Maxie woke up with a pounding headache in a familiar guest room and groans. He really needed to quit drinking. He sighs getting up heading to the bathroom and groans. Two yellow horns poked through his red hair like warning lights. He groans again holding his head knowing what this is. "Only took less then a week of being young again for the mutations to rear there ugly head." He hated what his parents made him. The only good part is that he can talk and understand his pokemon.

Archie was knocking on his door probably with clean clothes.

Maxie internally curses and grabs a towel to wrap around his head and rushes to answer the door. "Hey Archie thanks " he grabs the clothes and slams the door in Archie's face.

"Maxie why do you have horns?"

Maxie looks up and realizes in his rush the towel fell off and he sighs opening the door and pulling Archie inside forgetting how strong he is.

Archie gives a oof as he falls to the floor as the door closes.

"You can't tell anyone Archie, you just can't I haven't had time to file these down. Its only been a week in a younger body and woopdedoo my mutations are back again." He was pacing trying to calm himself.

"Maxie?"

"Im nothing but a freak thanks to them and I can't even do anything about it at least with my broken body older form my body was under so much stress no mutations had a chance to actually occur because they were so focused on keeping me alive."

"Maxie"

"And now you know and I can't just take it back. I wanted to tell you so badly because I loved you but now this and I can't stop it. I always had time to cut them off or saw off the extra stuff sure it was bloody but it worked."

"MAXIE"

Maxie stops and nearly stumbled onto himself "yes?"

"Are you ok?"

"I mean I'm not in pain if thats what you're asking."

"Maxie.... what uh er pokemon are thoes horns from? I don't recognize it?"

This question stopped Maxie he never really thought about that before. What pokemon was the mutations based on more then one? He didn't know. "I don't know?"

"Oh ok do they hurt?"

"No its like uh hair but thicker."

"Why yellow and not red to match your hair hot head?" He smirks

Maxie scowls trying to hide a smile. "I don't know Archie why do you ask stupid questions you water logged baffoon"

Archie stiffled a laugh knowing he succeeded in calming down Maxie. "Come on I'll make you breakfast, you're probably hungover."

Maxie sighs knowing he is right

#hardenshipping #magma boss maxie #magma leader maxie #pokemon maxie #pokemon archie #aqua leader archie #team magma #team aqua

11 notes · View notes

arthurflecksgirl · 4 years ago

Note

Hi sweety!🥰 could you please develope a prompt where x reader goes to Arthur's apartment for a coffee (they're only friends maybe?) and then she forgot her sweater (🥺) by him. so the next day he goes to her apartment to bring the sweater back to her. And idk if you want to add some cuddles or a cold weather and a warm tea🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much

Oh sweetheart, your request warmed my heart and it was so much fun to write it. You know I have a weakness for sweater stories when it comes to our sweet Artie.Thank you so much. I really really hope you like it.

Pressing that elevator button felt different, knowing that you wouldnt go into your own apartment but ringing the bell on Arthur`s door. You knew each other since you moved into this building a few months ago but it took you weeks to finally make the first move and talk to him.

Arthur was a very shy man with intense eyes and a beautiful smile, which was hiding so much pain. You could tell from the way he was making jokes that he was sad. He was the kind of person who wanted to make others happy because he couldnt find happiness himself. Observing his loneliness made you sad. It hurt you to see that a wonderful man like him was all alone. Every since his mother was commited to Arkham state hospital he lived a lonely life in his dark apartment. Sometimes you could hear him laugh through the walls. It was a different kind of laughter, almost like he was in pain. One day he started laughing out of the blue and he handed this card to you, which said something about a condition. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he was too shy to interact with people. You have never seen him with someone else. Being his only friend felt special. Thats what you were. Friends. At least you thought so. Arthur never showed any kind of interest in being more than that. He was always very friendly, awkwardly shy and incredibly sad. Even when he was funny. Especially ehen he was funny.

You walked down the halls with a racing heart. You fell hard for this beautiful, sad soul. Just the thought of meeting up with him for a coffee made your knees weak. If only he knew if you were in love with him. But how could you vere tell him without risking his freindship? Maybe he prefered to be alone. Arthur always seemed like he could be scared away easily and you didnt wanted to. Just sitting beside him on his couch, feeling his presence was a gift. You could never risk to lose that.

Meeting up for a coffee after work was something you used to do pretty often now. Sometimes he would take you to the donut shop, even though he never ate one, but this time he invited you to come over to his place. Which felt so much more intimate.

You took a deep breath as you rang the doorbell.

"Coming" Arturs soft voice sounded like he was already smiling.

He opened the door. His brown curls matched his worn out chestnut sweater. A cigarette was tugged between his thin lips. He looked tired but his natural beauty was almost hurtful.

"Hi Y/N." his smile exposed his crooked tooth, which reminded you of how many nights you yearned for him to kiss you.

"Hey Arthur. I`m sorry I´m a bit late. I had to work longer today. "

"Its fine. I mean...I won`t go anywhere. I`m....here..." for a brief moment there was an awkward silence between the two of you. Then he turned around "Sit down...I mean....." he ran his fingers through his hair, appearently nervous ".....make yourself at home. I`ll make some coffee."

He headed into the kitchen while you sat down on the couch and took off your sweater.It was cold outside.Gotham city wasnt very pleasent during wintertime. The cold easily managed to get to your bones.

It was the 3rd time you every sat here. The fabric was old and faded, yellow and blue pillows decorated the corners. Along with flowery and green sheets. Everything smelled like him. The scent of passion and romance. You always imagined Arthur to be a very romantic lover. The thought of that made you blush while he came back from the kitchen to hand you a hot cup of coffee.

"I`m sorry I only have these self made Murray Franklin show cups to offer you. Kinda embarassing." He took a sip of his own cup which looked exactly like yours , except for the handwritten letters looking a bit more shaky.

You turned the cup in yor hands "I think thats pretty sweet actually. Making your own cups of your fave tv show".

Arthurs eyes pierced you while he took another sip. The color of his eyes was everything.

"Yeah?"

"Sure!"

"You`re the only one who thinks so" he lit himself another cig and took a deep drag. His eyelids fluttered for a second. Details. details everywhere. Arthur was like a museum of details.

"My mother thought it was stupid. She said it reminds her of the fact that we dont even have enough money to buy the real cup."

You gave him a serious look "No, I really think its a creative thing to do. You are a creative guy."

His face lighted up "You think i´m crative? "

"Sure. You do write your own jokes, right?"

"Mhhh hmmmm, yeah"

"See? Very creative."

"Maybe I am" Arthurs left leg started bouncing and you caught yourself thinking how nice it would be to place your hand on his knee and make it stop by calming him down. You imagined how the fabric of his blue pants would feel under your fingertips. Or his naked skin...

Arthur sat close beside you, yet not close enough for his knee or arm to touch yours. You thought about how you could possibly touch him by accident. Feeling the fabcric of his clothes or his bare skin stroking yours was all you could think about.

He put the cup back on the table and looked at you in a way he never did before. His eyes focused you without blinking. Like the shyness within him was gone for a brief moment. You tried to mirror his stare, but it was impossible to look into his eyes without fighting the urge to grab his face and kiss him. So you focused on the curl that was dancing in his neck instead. Not a good idea as well. Looking at this vulnerable part of his body only made you yearn for more.

You caught yourself looking away, which made you hate yourself. How could you possibly turn your head away when he was finally looking at you like that?

"You`re a party clown right?"

Arthur finally blinked "Yeah."

"I`d love to see some of your acts some day"

"I also do stand up comedy. Maybe you`ll come to Pogos when I perform next week?"

"Ohh Arthur, I would love that" and all of te sudden your hand was resting on his thigh. Arthurs muscles twitched under your soft touch. Like he wasnt used to being touched at all.

His smile said more than a thousand words "Wow, thats great news. I would love to see you in the audience. I will try to give my best performance for you. You know what Y/N? I´m gonna write a joke especially for you. Would you like that?"

Your hand was still on his leg. Touching him was magical. Like your hand was always supposed to be there. You nodded. Unable to say a word.

He looked at the back of yor hand like he couldnt belive that someone was actually resting his hand on him. You could tell from his eyes how touch starved he was.

All of the sudden Arthur got up. Your hand falling off his leg felt wrong.

"So I think I better work on that jokes now." he mumbled while he headed to his desk.

Right now? You felt the disappointment rising in your heart. He wanted you to leave?

"They better be good if you`re gonna be a part of the audience!" he added.

"Okay Arthur. It was nice to have a coffee with you. Im sure your new jokes will turn out incredibly funny.""

He smiled his sweetest smile while he grabbed the pen, looking like he was already about to concentrate.

"You know, I wrote this joke last night but I havent figured out the punchline yet. Punshlines are important. And facial expessions. I feel like I always get them wrong. And I have to look into peoples eyes more often."

"Sounds like a great plan, Arthur. "

"Thank you Y/N. I`m trying. I really do."

"I know"

"I want my stand ups to be good enough for the big clubs." he pressed his journal to his chest.

"I`m sure some day you will be well known. Everyone will know the name Arthur Fleck and think of a grea comedian".

You noticed his eyes watering as he walked you to the door "Even kids?"

"Sure?"

"That would be sweet"

You wrapped his arms around him as you said our goodbyes "So, I`ll see you next week at Pogos?" he asked.

"Definitely!"

Your hug felt a little too tight for being just friends and you hoped he didnt noticed.

It felt a little too long too, but you couldnt help but trying to get a nose full of the smell of his soft curls.

Arthur looked after you before he closed the door behind him.

You walked down the hallway to get to your own apartment and immediately missed him.

Twenty minutes later you found yourself lying on your bed, realizing that you forgot your sweater on his couch. Should you gt over and get it? You decited not to. He porobably was working on his jokes right now and you didnt wanted to bother him. So instead of visiting him one more time you just disappeared under the blanket and dreamed of him for the rest of the night.

The next day felt like a fever dream. Fantasizing about Arthurs lips and hands for the whole night left you with a strange feeling in your chest. Was it wrong to think of him that way? You thought about your sweater and how it was lying in Arthurs apartment for the whole night. You wondered if he left it lying on the couch and if he was still sleeping on the couch now that Penny was at the hospital? You couldnt concentrate while working at all. Your beautiful neighbor filled your mind with so many questions and daydreams. Daydreaming about him became something that helped you to get through the day. Just thinking of him chuckeling made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like nothing could harm you anymore.

This man was magic.

And you wanted him so bad.

Somehow the day passed by like every day does and you found yourself alone in the bathroom, looking at the mirror, wondering if you were even his type of girl. You had no idea in what kinda girls he was into.

And just as you started wondering someone knocked at your door. Was it possible...?

You nervously hurried up to open it.

It was him.

Arthur was standing in front of you, holding your sweater in his hands.

"Hi Y/N. I dont know if you noticed but... you forgot your sweater yesterday and I didnt wanted to bother you and...."

"Ohhh Arthur. Thats so sweet of you. Yeah I noticed. Thank you."

You could swear that he was about to blush.

"You wanna come in?"

Arthur nodded while he stumbled through your door.

"Make yourself comfy, I am right back" you smiled as he sat down in the living room.

You disappeared in the bathroom, pressing your face into your sweater to see if it smelled differently. It did. There was a hint of Arthurs cologne on it. His flowery shampoo and the smell of smoke. Your sweater smelled like him.

You buried your face deeper into the fabric and breathed in.

It was your piece of clothing but it felt like it was his. Breathing in the scent that was so him was the most intimate moment of your entire life. Was that what it feels like to fall asleep in his arms? To cuddle with him on the couch while watching his fave comedy shows on the screen? Was that what he smelled like under his clothes? His bare skin? Was that the scent that would surrowd you while making love to him?

Your thoughts went all over the place while you rubbed the fabric against your blushing cheeks.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

Arthurs voice woke you from your daydreams "Oh, yeah sure. Just got to use the bathroom. I´ll be right back"

"Okay! "

A minute later you sat beside him on the couch, the sweater still in your hands.

Arthur stared at it. His hands lay on his lap while he played with his own fingers.

"I have to admit something" he said "It`s so embarrassing. I dont even know how to tell you...."

"You can tell me anything, Arthur"

"There is a stain on your sweater now. It was me. I`m so sorry. I ruined it. Its face paint. I still got it on my fingers after I cleaned my brushes. " he showed you the spots where he stained it.

Traces of him.

This somehow made you very emotional.

Its was his sweater now.

Through and through.

"Thats okay, Arthur. Dont worry. I dont mind."

"Really?" he seemed surprised.

"I dont mind at all !"

He shrug "Well there is another thing.... after I noticed you forgot your sweater on my couch... there was a reason I didnt came over to hand it to you last night. Its so embarrassing, oh my god..."

You giggled "Okay? Why didnt you?"

"I....put it on" Arthur buried his face in his hands "Sorry, dont hate me. Please. I put your sweater on and I slept in it." His legs started to bounce.

You coudlnt belive what you just heard. That was the cutest thing you could have imagined.

"Arthur,really? You slept in my sweater?"

He exposed his face.

"I know...I know....its...I`m sorry. Now you must think I`m a total freak or a stalker or something." He looked down on the floor, way too shy to look you in the eyes while he started to bite his nails.

"Actually I think thats pretty cute." you chuckled. The blood was rushing to your face. This man really got under your skin.

"What? Are...are you serious? You´re not mad at me? You dont think i´m a freak?"

"I could never think you`re a freak. I´m glad you told me. Now I`m going to tell you something much more embarrassing, okay? So you see that you are not the only one."

Arthur gave you an insecure look "Okay?"

"When I was at the bathroom before, I sniffed my sweater because I hoped it would smell like your apartment."

"I`m sorry if it smells like smoke now."

"Noooo not because of that! I wanted it to smell like... you!"

Arthurs eyes filled with love "You mean...."

You nodded as your eyes watered "I`m in love with you ever since I saw you for the first time. I just didnt knew how to tell you."

Arthur fell into your arms "Me too Y/N. Oh god.....me,too."

You pulled him closer. You never noticed how tiney he was in your arms. How fragile.

"Why havent you told me?" you asked him, while his face was buried in your neck.

"I didnt wanted to boter you. People often feel bothered by me. They think I`m weird. I was glad you even talked to me. Those short coffee breaks meant the world to me."

"Artie, this is just....I`m speechless."

He chuckled, now facing you "You just called me Artie".

"I know. Thats what I called you in my head all the time".

"I could get used to that" he smirked, which made his lip scar show even more intense.

"I cold call you Artie all night if you want to stay. " you whispered into his ear.

"I would love to. I mean its cold outside and some cuddles and warm tea would be nice..."

"Or some kisses" you added.

"Or some kisses....." Arthur turned his face to the left and put your face between his gentle hands.

His lips on yours felt even better than in your fantasy.

His taste filling your mouth was all you ever wanted.

And as you both fell into the pillows you buried your face into his curls and took a deep breath of Arthur Fleck.

@impulsiveclown @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle @duhliriouss @sadjesterautumn @therealjokerking10 @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie @jokerflecker @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend @nicoleverse @mdme-rosary @arthurhappyclown @neon-umbrella-for-stella @cherrymoon75 @call-me-harley-quinn @arthurjokersgirl

50 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswritex · 4 years ago

Text

Call Me Fighter

A/N: Good news everyone! I remember where I got these pictures! /benhardyig on instagram posted these a few days ago and I got the inspo for this! Also the song I used for the title is one of my husbands favorites so you should give it a listen! Side note, Im not really sure how Im feeling about most of this so hang in there and let me know how it was!

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Platonic Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4900

Warnings: Fighting (fairly detailed? Im not sure?), swearing, lying, i dont know what else?

Song: Call me fighter by Matt Beilis

She wasn't sure if he knew that she knew, but she did. Y/n was always smarter than he gave her credit for. Did he really think that she would believe him?

“Went ass over tit on my bike last week”

“Dropped my damn phone on my face”

“Bar fight, truly heroic”

The excuses he was giving her were getting more and more ridiculous, she wished that he would tell her already so she could stop hiding the fact that she knew. Ben and Y/n had been friends for years, and she knew him better than he knew himself. Y/n could remember back in grade school when Ben would get into fights, countless fights for no reason, so when he started sporting a new bruise every week, she had a feeling about what was happening.

Y/n wasn't proud of how she found out, but he had given her no choice, the more and more he lied to her, the more she had to find out the truth. It was just a few weeks ago that Y/n could hear shouting coming from next door, where Ben lived, and she listened closely but could only hear his voice. Years prior, the two of them had both been house hunting, Y/n found a duplex for sale and she knew instantly it was going to be perfect, so together, they bought it and each took a side.

“I'll be there, I SAID I'LL FUCKIN’ BE THERE!” Y/n heard his voice booming through the walls, followed by the sound of Ben stomping around his house before his front door slammed closed. Ben hardly ever even raised his voice to her, so hearing his shout like that had caused her to worry immediately. She grabbed her jacket and poked her head out the door, seeing Ben’s retreating form headed down the street. Y/n pulled her hood over her mess of hair and walked slowly, following him carefully.

Following Ben felt like a betrayal to their friendship, but she had seen how he came home last week, she needed to know what was happening to him. When Y/n saw him walk into an alley in the warehouse district, saying she was confused would have been an understatement, but she followed nonetheless.

Y/n was not at all prepared to see a line of people standing at a metal door, but watch Ben walk right past them and go into a second door. The line was moving quickly so she just stood in the back of the line until she made her way to a man with arms bigger than her head. “Twenty buck admission, sweetheart.” The large man’s voice boomed, and she frantically patted her pockets, grinning widely as she found a twenty in her jeans pocket, handing it to the man and being ushered inside.

The lights in the large warehouse were sparse and dim, casting shadows on the walls. Y/n stepped carefully over the trash littered floor, careful to avoid the men standing around in small groups and talking in hushed voices with their eyes darting around nervously. She kept her hood pulled over her head as she quickly scanned the room, unable to see Ben at all. I watched him walk in here, I know he is here somewhere, she thought to herself. As she got closer to the center of the large room, she saw a rather large cage with only one door and a mat inside. Y/n couldn't help the nauseous feeling in her stomach as she looked around the inside of the cage, seeing what had to be blood, splattered everywhere.

Y/n’s attention was pulled from the scene by a man’s voice over a speaker, “Make your final bets, ladies and gents, our fighters are almost ready.” Heart pounding at the words, Y/n looked around frantically, hoping to catch Ben’s face in the crowd, the nausea getting worse as her thoughts raced. Letting herself get moved back, away from the cage, she nervously chewed at her thumbnail, something she hadn't done in years. Her heart stopped and her jaw hung open wide when she saw Ben walking from the crowd, shirtless but with taped up hands, and stepping into the cage. Her hands flew to cover her mouth quickly and though she was sure she made a noise, it was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.

His face looked hard and tough from here, but Y/n knew Ben better than anyone else, she could see the worry and the sadness behind his eyes. She had spent most of her time there in tears, her heart breaking more and more with every hit that landed on Ben. She wasn’t even able to stay for the whole fight, running out of the building and not stopping until she was on her shared porch. That night when she heard Ben get home and tap on the shared wall, like they had done since they moved in, she ignored it. She couldn’t face him, knowing he would just feed her another excuse.

Y/n had followed Ben three more nights, out of morbid curiosity she guessed, and had left before the fight was over every time. Everytime she would wait for the tap on the wall when he got home and would stay silent. Y/n realized what the taps meant now, I'm home and safe. Ben may not have told her what he was doing, but at least with the taps, she knew when he was home. Weeks went by with Ben leaving the house at odd hours and coming back late, tapping the wall and then they would meet in the morning for coffee like always with some kind of fabricated story. She hadn't gone to another fight in weeks.

Today, though, Y/n paced around her living room for hours. Ben had left hours ago and he still wasn't home, which made her stomach turn. She waited only another ten minutes and then she was grabbing her jacket from the hook and slamming the door behind her as she ran quickly to the warehouse. Once she was inside, she saw a bigger crowd than she had ever seen before and her anxiety spiked. This was something different. When the announcer spoke over the loudspeaker, she watched as Ben walked into the cage, but this time he was already bloody and cut up, he had already fought tonight and he was fighting again? Y/n watched the way Ben leaned heavily on the side of the cage, arm clutched to his side and chest heaving harshly.

Not only was the guy who entered moments later at least twice the size of Ben, but he was also wider and the look on his face was not at all friendly. She could see Ben’s hesitation as he looked at the ref and the man shrugged his shoulders. Y/n knew that this wasn't a normal fight, and she knew nothing about fighting. The few times she had gone, she tried to stay hidden in the back where he wouldn't spot her, but the longer this fight went on, the closer and closer she crept to the cage. Watching Ben move really was incredible in a normal situation, but watching him bounce easily from foot to foot and easily dodge his opponents fists was something else. Unfortunately, Ben was not so bouncy this time.

Y/n flinched audibly when one of the big guys fists collided with Ben’s cheek, making him stumble back, another fist following seconds later and Y/n had gotten close enough to see his eyes crossing from the hit. His jaw went slack just in time for one last hit and his eyes rolled back and he dropped to the mat.

“BEN!”

That was a hell of a hit, Ben thought to himself as he fell heavily to the mat of the cage. He could have sworn that he heard Y/n’s voice, but of course it wasn't really her, she had no idea what Ben was doing right now, a fact that he took solace in as he let his eyes fall closed and the darkness swallowed him whole.

Ben didn't know how long he was out for, but his ears woke up before his eyes and he could hear the sounds of people cheering distantly, but closer than that he heard someone softly crying and the sound of ripping paper. Even behind closed eyes, the light overhead was excruciating, and kept his eyes closed tightly. He could feel the pressure of someone wiping at the cuts on his face. Ben listened to the sniffles of his faceless caregiver, he could hear the soft choked sobs falling from their mouth.

“Oh Ben,” Ben heard his makeshift nurse, who was certainly female, coo sadly.

He let the words spin in his head, the voice repeating over and over. Oh Ben was right. Ben knew he had gotten in over his head when his opponent entered the cage, noticing quickly that it was not the guy who he was supposed to fight. He had gotten greedy, he knew he did. Ben had taken to betting on himself through a regular attendee of the fights, and management had caught wind and needed to put a stop to it.

“Gods, you're such an idiot.” His nurse spoke again and Ben’s heart dropped, he knew that voice.

“Y/n?” Ben opened his eyes quickly and regretted it immediately, throwing his head off the side of the bench he was laying on and emptying his stomach. Y/n squeaked and jumped backwards out of the splash zone, though her face lit up brightly.

“Ben!” She rushed to the other side of the bench, leaning down and carefully rubbing a hand over his sweaty back as he groaned loudly. “Jesus, Ben, I thought I had lost you.” Y/n smiled, though when Ben rolled back onto his back, he could see the tears still streaming down her face.

“What are you doing here?” He tried to use his arm to push himself off the bench but the pain in his shoulder stopped him with a hiss, Y/n putting a gentle hand on his chest to keep him still.

“Don't move, your shoulder is fucked up and I think you broke a few ribs.” Y/n explained with a sniffle, keeping her hand on his chest, and she felt him relax under her touch.

“Y/n.” Ben experimentally raised his other arm and when no pain blossomed, he laid his hand on top of hers. “What are you doing here? Did they call you?” He questioned again, squeezing her hand, causing her to look at his eyes.

His face was still bloody, left eye swelling up with a nasty cut below it. His right side was no better, a bruise was forming on his jaw and his nose was still slowly bleeding from a small cut there too. Y/n’s heart broke looking at him, she wasn't able to stop the sob that ripped from her throat. “You didn't tap.”

Ben’s eyes widened and taking a ragged breath, which broke her heart more, he squeezed her hand once more. “You knew?” His voice was barely above a whisper and had Y/n not been sitting so close to him, she may not have heard it. Y/n nodded her head softly, biting her lip as tears tumbled down her face. “How?”

Y/n choked out a laugh despite the sadness she felt, “Did you really think you were giving me good excuses?” She shook her head softly before standing and taking the bowl of water she had brought over, now red, and dumped it out. Y/n shook her head again before putting the bow down a little harder than she should have, the startling sound making Ben jump and hiss at the pain. “How could you keep something like this from me?” She spoke forcefully but didn't make eye contact. Ben laid his head back down onto the bench and sighed.

“I didn't want you to know, Y/n.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wincing from the pain. “I didn't want you to worry.”

Y/n scoffed and crossed her arms, “OH of course, because this is so much better.” Pushing herself off the counter, she strode towards him quickly. “Do you not understand how lucky you were that I knew where you sneak off to?” Her voice raised and Ben squeezed his eyes closed tighter. “Ben you could have died! Do you not realize that? Did you know what they do to fighters who get knocked out like that?” She questioned, grabbing his face light enough to not hurt but enough to make him open his eyes. “They drug you out of the cage and pulled you back here by your fucking arms Ben. They tossed you into this room and closed the door behind them.” Y/n swiped her hand over her eyes quickly, angry at the tears that came.

Ben looked into the eyes of his best friend, hating that he had caused her pain. Hating that he had lied to her for months and here she was, taking care of him like she always did. She had every right to be upset with him, because he knew that he didn't have a good enough excuse for his choices. “I can't give you a good reason, Y/n.” He stared into her eyes, lifting his good hand to her face and wiped away a tear as it ran over her cheek. When he looked at his hand against her face, he could finally see some of the damage done tonight.

Ben stared at his swollen and cut knuckles, carefully wiped clean of blood thanks to her. Clenching his fist a few times, the cuts split open again and small streaks of blood sliding down the back of his hand. “Stop that.” Y/n spoke softly, grabbing his hand and the wet cloth, wiping away the blood once more. Ben watched her silently, allowing her to move his arm anyway she needed.

“I'm sorry I lied.”

“Me too.”

They both stayed silent as Y/n walked around the room, gathering hers and Ben’s things while Ben just tried to sit up on the bench. Once Y/n had Ben’s backpack over her shoulder, she walked over to him and offered him a hand, which he took gratefully. Anchoring herself with her legs, she let Ben pull himself up before wrapping an arm over her shoulder. Usually Ben would make a joke about how much shorter she was than him, but this time he stayed silent, using all of his energy to not scream out in pain. Y/n watched his jaw clench tight as he tried to take a step forward, nearly pulling her to the ground with him.

“Walking home isn't an option, Ben.” She sighed, her voice cracking slightly. “You're going to have to wait here while I go and get the car.” Ben, who didn't trust himself not to cry out, kept his mouth closed and nodded carefully. Y/n tried to ease Ben back to the bench as carefully as possible, but Ben’s knee buckled and they both went down hard. She yelped loudly and Ben felt the laughter bubble up in his throat and before he could stop it, it spilled out. “Are you laughing at me right now?” Y/n chuckled, letting herself relax onto the floor, arm still wrapped around Ben. Ben just laughed louder and nodded his head, making Y/n giggle back and soon the two best friends were both clutching their stomachs in hysterics.

Y/n, breathless from laughter, glanced towards Ben and her laughter turned to choked sobs. Ben was quick to shush her, pulling her close to him and she laid gently on his chest. Wincing through the pain, he raised his hand to her hair and stroked it softly. “Let’s go home, Y/n.” Ben pressed his lips to her forehead and she sniffled and nodded, pulling herself into a sitting position. Standing and offering Ben both of her hands, she carefully got him back onto the bench and sighed heavily.

“I'll be right back, don't move.” She pointed at him seriously, but Ben could see the forced smile on her face and his heart hurt for her. He nodded and faked his own smile, shooting her a thumbs up and laying his head back against the wall behind him. Y/n waved once more before she closed the door behind her and Ben was alone.

He hated that she had to see him like this, he had thought he was covering his tracks well enough, though Y/n had always been smarter than him. He thanked whatever god was listening at that moment, that she wasn't here anymore. He knew what it meant to be caught betting on yourself. That was something that Y/n never needed to see. Ben pulled himself up carefully, holding his arm close to his side, hissing at the sudden all over pain. Slowly he made his way across the room, but was stopped short when the door opened with a loud bang as it clattered against the wall. The fight manager and his two overly large goons pushed their ways through the door, staring Ben down like he was their prey.

“Mike.” Ben nodded his head shortly, waving weakly at the muscle. “To what do I owe this pleasure.” His sarcasm was not well met, as goon number one cracked his knuckles menacingly and goon number two swung his fist into Ben’s jaw harshly. Black dots filled Ben’s vision, but he grabbed a hold of the counter to stay standing.

“Don't be cute, Ben.” Mike replied coolly, stepping between the goons and standing right in front of him. “Is your girlfriend gone? I'm sure this isn't the kind of fight she wants to see.” The short, fat man chuckled, he turned and took a few steps to the side and when Ben’s gaze followed, his jaw was met once more with a goon's fist. Ben swore loudly, gritting his teeth and trying to will himself to stay standing. Spitting on the floor beside him, Ben glanced at the ground's fresh red spatters. “You cheated me Ben. I don't like cheaters.”

Anticipating another hit, Ben dodged the next hit which only seemed to spur the goons on. Goon Number One locked his arms behind his back, pulling a string of curses from Ben, as Goon Number Two hit him in the ribs. Ben's head was swimming and he wasn't sure how much more his body could take. Two didn't stop at just one hit, not even two, but after three sharp jabs to his ribs, Goon Number One finally let his arms go and Ben fell to the floor in a heap. He tried to push himself off the ground but one of the men kicked him hard in the chest and he fell back down.

“You’re burnt, Ben.” Mike clicked his tongue and motioned for the goons to take him outside. Struggling and failing, Ben was hoisted into the air by the two men, Mike stopping them and grabbing a fist full of Ben’s hair and bringing his face close to Ben’s ear, “You're done.” He whispered menacingly. “Make sure to leave him out front where the girl can find him.” Mike snapped his fingers and then Ben was dragged out into the dark parking lot.

Leave him where the girl can find him, the words swam in Ben’s foggy head. Y/n was going to find him like this, and the thought alone was enough to force a sob from his throat. The goons pulled Ben’s limp body until they were under the large flood light on the building and threw him to the ground, Ben wasn't quick enough with his hands and his face was scrapped along the pavement and he held back a cry. The men both stalked towards him but he tried to crawl away, both men stepping towards him easily. “I hope she isn't squeamish.” Goon Number One growled with a sick smile on his face, pulling his fist into the air and slamming it into Ben’s face and knocking his head into the ground. Goon Number Two kicked at him again and again.

Ben’s vision was blurring. It hurt to breathe. He was sure he would die. Ben couldn't help the sobs and tears that spilled out of him as he saw headlights turning into the parking lot. His shouts sounded like static in his own ears and he could no longer make out the sounds of the goons above him. He could feel his eyes closing as he suddenly heard Y/n’s voice, clear as day, shouting his name.

Y/n had run back to her house as quickly as she could and when she stumbled into the front door, she finally slowed down, stepping inside and leaning on the closed door behind her. She walked through the house and turned on a few lights, and readied the tea kettle for their return. Sighing loudly, she grabbed her keys and jogged back outside and climbed into her car. The trip back was less than ten minutes long and when she pulled into the warehouse parking lot, she was shocked that it had emptied out so quickly. Figuring she would make it easier on Ben if she parked as close to the door as she could, she turned towards the entrance and that's when she saw it.

Directly under the flood lights bright circle, Y/n was able to make out two giant men and a smaller figure on the ground. Ben! Slamming her hand on the horn, she pushed her foot to the floor, needing to get to Ben right now. She watched the men kicking him, ruthlessly, and she covered her mouth with one hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. When she finally reached them, she slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt in front of them, one of them making eye contact with her as she screamed for them to stop. Keeping her gaze, the man threw a hand out at the second man and they both stopped kicking. Y/n shrieked loudly when the second man looked at her and spit at Ben, she ran forward and dropped to the ground beside her beaten best friend.

“Ben! Ben, please!” The tears poured down her face like a waterfall and her voice cracked as she begged him to wake up. “Please open your eyes, Ben, please!” Y/n scrambled around for her phone as she quickly dialed 911. Sitting herself above Ben’s head, she pulled him carefully into her lap, sobbing loudly as she touched his red stained face. Twenty minutes, Y/n thought sadly, twenty minutes she had been gone and now she may have been too late. She rocked back and forth hysterically with Ben’s head in her lap, her long fingers running through his blood-matted hair, and soon she could hear the approaching sirens. “I'm so sorry Ben, I should have never left you here. I'm so, so sorry Ben.” She cried so loudly, her throat was raw by the time the paramedics were pulling Ben’s motionless form from her grasp and ushered her into the back while she held onto his hand the whole way to the hospital.

It was two days later, when Ben finally opened his eyes and the very first thing he saw made him smile despite his surroundings. Y/n was curled into a ball, asleep in a small recliner in the corner of the room. Ben didn't dare look at any of the damage, instead choosing to lay quietly and watch Y/n sleep peacefully. He was able to smile for half a second before the pain shot through his cheek and he hissed loudly, which woke Y/n up.

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes as she launched herself out of the chair, crossing the room in seconds and having to stop herself from literally throwing herself onto Ben. Y/n gently put both hands to his face and just gave him a watery smile. “I'm so glad you're alright, Ben.” She cooed, leaning in and carefully placed a kiss to his forehead. “You are so fucking lucky that you're alright, because I want to murder you!” The smile stayed on her face but her eyes got serious.

Ben opened his mouth to speak but found his throat raw. Y/n was quick to bring a straw to his lips and he swallowed down the water gratefully. He cleared his throat when he was done and he looked at her. “I'm so sorry Y/n.” His bottom lip quivered and his eyes were locked on hers. When he tried to lift his arm to her face, he found resistance with a bright red cast from his palm to elbow. She watched his face crumble when he saw the cast, as it prompted him to search his other limbs.

Ben had ‘gotten lucky’ or so the doctors told Y/n the day before when they had given her the rundown of his injuries. “Broken arm, three broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, four broken knuckles and a pretty serious concussion.” Y/n sighed, brushing Ben’s blond curls off of his forehead. “Jesus Ben you've been asleep since they brought you in, it's been two days.” She didn't make eye contact with him, instead looking at his hair running through her fingers and she didn't even try to stop the tears from falling heavily onto his chest.

Ben stared at her face, heart aching when she wouldn't even look at him. He used his cast-free arm to reach up and touch her face lightly. “Thank you for being there that night, Y/n.” His voice wavered just enough to betray his stoic face, when her eyes flickered to his he could see all the pain and sleeplessness she had experienced the last two days. “I'm so sorry that this is how you found out, I'm sorry for lying to you.” He spoke softly, letting a tear get halfway down his face before swiping it away quickly. “I would have died if you hadn’t come back for me.”

“I'll always come back for you, Ben.” Y/n smiled at him, running her finger down his nose carefully, bringing a real smile to his face. “You're my best friend, and I love you.” She rolled her eyes playfully at him.

“I know, and you're my best friend.” Ben moved his hand from her face and grabbed her hand, “No more secrets.” he nodded his head seriously and she mirrored him.

“And you’ll try and explain to me why you thought this was ever a good idea?” She questioned hopefully, and though Ben sighed heavily, he nodded his head. “Pinky promise?” She held out her pinky finger to him and Ben chuckled and wrapped his pinky around hers.

“Pinky promise.”

Two after Ben woke up, the doctor was clearing him to leave. Y/n was getting the basic pain medicine talk, since she was to be Ben’s caregiver. Ben watched her listening intently to the directions that his doctor was reciting, showing her the bottle of pills and a packet on how to shower with a cast. She nodded her head and occasionally spoke up with a question, flashing Ben a smile when she caught him staring. Ben grinned back at her and the doctor smiled at the two of them. “Well, Mr. Jones, I would like to hope that this experience has made you think twice about your hobbies.” The doctor gave him a pointed look and he held up his one good hand in defense.

“No more fighting, I promise.” He stated and the doctor gave him a thumbs up.

“As for you, Miss Taylor, Benjamin here is lucky to have you in his life. You make a very cute couple.” The older man smiled and nudged Y/n and when she made eye contact with Ben, they both started laughing hysterically.

“He wishes,” She scoffed and Ben looked at her offended, “He’s been my best friend so long, he is practically my brother.” She gave the boy a fond smile and he returned it happily.

“Completely platonic soulmates, doc.” Ben smiled at the man and pushed himself to his feet. “Now, not that I don't think you're a great guy, but I would like to get out of here and never see you again.” Ben chuckled and the doctor laughed deeply.

“That is the right attitude!” The man clapped his hands together, “You are good to go, and I hope I never have the fortune of seeing you again.” He shook Ben’s hand first and then reached for Y/n’s, “You as well, Miss Taylor.”

“You got it, doc.” She shook the man's hand and grabbed the bag of Ben’s belongings and waited for him to follow her and when he looked at her with question in his eyes she rolled her eyes at him. “If you think i'm ever leaving you alone to fetch the car again, you're out of your mind. Come on, your legs ain’t broken.” Ben laughed loudly and nodded his head before walking over and throwing his good arm around her shoulders carefully. “Let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home.” He agreed with a smile on his face.

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy au #fighter!ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #call me fighter #my writing

58 notes · View notes

melancholicillusions · 4 years ago

Text

How you two meet.

Tuesday, January 13 2018

"We are expecting a rather violent snow storm this evening. Its suspected to last a good three days. Infact its suppose to drop below freezing tonight and its expected to stay that way leading into tomorrow morning..." The women on the small television exclaimed.

"Ugh.. Of all days She could have made me work..." Y/n sighed, looking out the window which reflected no other color but white.

"Well what can you do about it?" You coworker Dokyeom chuckled, mixing the batter.

Rolling your eyes you walked over to the oven placing the empty pan inside and pulling out the cooked bach, setting it on the table turning off the oven.

"Well I could go home b-"

"Then go home, ill cover for you."

You smiled. "..but! You didn't let me finish. I was going to say.. I need this job."

Cocking his brows he reminded you, "y/n you dads a billionaire, you said it yourself he's given you more than enough to buy a nice car, house, and then just sit on your ass all day, for the rest of your life."

"Yes but he's also only a billionaire because of his father and his fathers, father. Should i go on?"

Dokyeom quickly declined your offer waving you off with his towel. "Blah blah blah."

"Haha very funny. Hey can you go tell them they need to leave? Its a minute till closing time."

"What?! Why can't you do it?" Dokyeom complained.

"Because, one I have to stay late anyways remember? Im on clean up duty. Also I dont like kicking people out.. Besides, I think they're homeless.." You trailed off.

Dokyeom sighed. "Fine. But you owe me.."

"대박! 감사해요." (Awesome! Thank you.)

"I see you've been practicing." He commented.

You smiled.

He made his way to the simi-empty dinning room where a young man and a child sat. The man had a smile on his face as he listened to the small child, who from what I could understand was telling him about her day at daycare. I couldn't help but feel guilty. Trying not to think about it, I began throwing out old samples and displays that once sat in the display case, though I over heard Dk politely tell them they had to leave.

"Excuse me, sir.." He started.

Trying my best to make it seem like I wasn't there I slouched down behind the case. Listening to the small conversation between the two men, peaking around the corner. The male looked up at Dk, worry on his face as he pulled the small girl closer. she looked to be around three while the male looked to be in his late twenties. He had short brown hair and what looked to be a faint beard growing. He was wearing an old torn-up off white sweater, ripped black jeans, and a gray scarf. The girl on the other hand had oily black hair that was pulled into a ponytail. She was wearing a hoodie that was three sizes too large for her, an ankle length navy blue skirt, and a red bennie.

"...I'm sorry to say that's its closing time and you'll have to leave." Dk finished.

"Ah, I'm sorry. We hadn't realized what time it was. haha!" The man said. Standing up to pick up the small child only to sit her down and begun putting her winter attire on.

"Okay. Stay safe." Dk smiled and started walking back to the kitchen putting the freshly made batter into the fridge for early shift staff tomorrow and begun washing the dishes.

"Daddy, are we gonna sleep under the bridge again?"

My breath hitched, and i slowly stood up looking at the child who was now putting on gloves while he wrapped the scarf around her neck. As she looked up to him warmly.

"N-no sweetheart we'll find somewhere."

Once his stuff was on he picked her up and made their way out into the harsh weather with one last glance into the kitchen, making eye contact with me for the first time.

_________________________

"Welp that concludes our shift.. I owe you one Dk. Again."

Dokyeom chuckled putting his coat on. "You sure do. Now if you'll excuse me I have a wife and daughter that are waiting for me. The wife especially." He winked.

"Gross, really Dokyeom? Really."

He smiled before clocking out, telling you to drive safe and walking out the door. I followed his steps only there was no one to tell drive safe and I had the extra step that included locking the doors.

"Shit, it really is cold out here... Doesn't help that my car is halfway down the fuckn' street." I muttered to myself.

Sitting in my car I couldn't help but think back to the man and his child. What she said to him specifically.

'Daddy, are we gonna sleep under the bridge again?'

Resting my head on the steering wheel I sighed. "Why didn't i say anything..."

Once I was done pondering and beating myself up about the past I started on my way home. Though the road I usually take was blocked off so I had to take the Sketchy way, through the alley and under the bridge. When it was in sight I calmed my nerves with some low-fi music my friend Yoongi produced. As I was driving through I saw someone- no someones. A familiar red bennie was huddled into something. I couldn't help but pull up next to them, driving slowly. Rolling my window down only to be greeted by snow and cold air assaulting my face.

"Excuse me. Do you need somewhere to stay?" I had to yell just to be heard over the yelps and roars of the winter air.

Man stopped and so did I, the little girls grip remained tight on her fathers arm.

"Uh. No, thank you we'll be fine.." He responded looking down.

"Daddy I'm cold.." She said and as a response he begun taking off his coat only to wrap it around her small frame, because she had one of his arms he could only use one to keep himself warm.

"Come on, its suppose to drop below freezing tonight, and if she's gonna have your coat.. You'll freeze... You'll both freeze."

He sniffled before telling her to get in the car.

"Come one Haru, get in the car... Hurry sweetie."

You smiled unlocking the doors, he sat in the back with her.

"You can get in the front."

"No, its fine." He quickly responded.

_________________________

"Here, I'll go make you two some hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate! Yay!" The child now known as Haru yelled in excitement.

"Here let me help you princess.." He said taking her shoes and wet clothes off.

When you came back you set the three cups on the table and warmed up some left over egg soup.

"Do you have some dry clothes? Haru's are wet.." He said sounding timid and a bit hesitant.

"Uh ya.. Um, can you keep an eye on the food? You know to make sure it doesn't boil over."

"Sure.. Come here haru, and stop bouncing around on her furniture." He said sternly.

You chuckled walking to your room looking through your night gowns looking for one that was, shall we say appropriate for someone of her age.

"Finally..." You sighed.

'to the moon and back.' It read.

You started looking through the stuff your late husband left behind, and came up with a shirt that said 'proud husband of a kick ass military wife!' And some sweats. Quickly folding them you made you way into the kitchen where Haru and her father waited.

"Oh you could have made yourselves a bowl.."

"Oh, sorry we didn't want to touch anything..."

Making your way to the cabinet s to get them a bowl. "No no its fine im sure you two are starving anyways.. Here are the clothes. I found some for you to..."

He smiled slightly, "I'm Jeonghan by the way.."

"Im y/n. So that's your daughter?" You smiled as he picked Haru up and begun to dress her.

"Y-yes, her mother died at birth and things went down hill from there.."

"Oh, I'm so sorry.."

Jeonghan looked at you "I saw a picture of a man.. Assuming by the shirt you cave me your married?"

You cleared your throat. "Um no he died 2 years ago.."

He stared at you before apologising profusely.

"Heh.. No its fine, I guess I'm over it anyway.. I didn't stop and cry when going through his stuff.." You chuckled.

"No one ever truly gets over the loss of a loved one..."

He looks at you. You shake your head. "That makes two of us.."

#seventeen #seventeen kpop #s.coups #lee jihoon #vernon #jeonghan #seungkwan #svt hoshi #the8 #svt dino #wonwoo #svt joshua #svt jun #mingyu #svt dk #svt imagines #svt scenarios

12 notes · View notes

scaredandbored · 4 years ago

Text

.ok i caved and wrote spones. academy au spones. with a really, horribly out of character spock. was this purely self-indulgent? yes. i’m not even 100% sure what im doing with this story, only that its spones, they share a dorm, and its going to be a gross, borderline self-insert fic lmaoooo. playing fast and loose with the academy’s curriculum because i’m a lazy piece of shit who won’t research the actual structure. also, idk if it even counts as slash, because it contains what i consider flirting, which is ACTUALLY just bickering and academic/scientific discussion combined with gentle physical contact. let me have this.

additional note : i snuck in some pining at the end! so it’s definitely romantic! ha! (it’s not worth it dont bother)

additional additional note : i fucked up a perfectly good spones fic by trying to add jim but it turned into McSpirk

Collectors poke and scalpels ring

(title from billy corgan’s poem “a wax seal”)

warnings : don’t read this spock is so badly written in it.

blatant abuse of the comma, oxford and otherwise

someone gets burnt but it’s not severe and it’s off of tea

cursing. a lot of it.

words : c.6’000 (i’ll count properly tomorrow, it’s hard to get a word count on mobile)

If Leonard was being completely honest with himself (which he tried to be, dammit), his studying had stopped being productive at some stage between midnight and one a.m, but he’d be damned if he was going to grant his smug-enough-already roommate an “I told you so” by going to bed. Not that Spock would use such colloquial, illogical language. Resisting the urge to groan, Leonard let his head fall to his desk, confident the pile of pages he had accumulated while studying for his assessment in Standard Procedures in Classifying Non-Humanoid Life-Forms would muffle the thud enough to prevent upsetting his roommate’s meditation in the bedroom next to his. Walls were thin at the academy, that was the whole reason he’d had to turn down Jim when he’d requested Leonard to bunk with him for their second year in the academy. Bones loved the kid, he really did, but if he wasn’t blasting his frankly awful study music through the whole night, he had someone over from wherever he’d been that evening, and Bones had come to learn (quickly, and unwillingly), that Jim was loud in bed.

Making the decision to go make a coffee (not with one of those godawful replicators, but with some decent coffee beans that his younger sister had brought as a present on his birthday, for which he’d had to actually purchase a grinder and coffee press for afterwards, but it was the thought that counts), Bones couldn’t help but miss the all-nighters he and Jim used to pull together in their previous year at the academy, using each other to keep awake and motivated. The kid’s taste in classical music left much to be desired, but he didn’t seem to mind Bones’s preferences, so they’d throw on the med student’s study playlist on Jim’s maybe-technically-banned-but-no-one-is-going-to-snitch-on-us-because-we-all-have-one-Bones-relax speaker and bounce flash cards off of each other, explaining things to one another, and sharing notes. Jim had always been very much an aural-oral learner, unable to retain information unless he had explained it to someone, or had it explained to him, and while Bones definitely did not mind helping his friend out, he’d always been a more individual learner, preferring to take his notes and summarise them, re-writing the most important points until he had them ingrained in his subconscious. Which was all well and good, except it was a pain in the ass of a technique that only became more frustrating when it was employed in a long night of cramming.

Quietly, Bones took his mug as well as the rest of the required paraphernalia from the almost-bare shelf in the equally almost-bare cupboard he and Spock had voted to dedicate to Bones’s “illogical need to entertain guests with a strange variety of baked goods paired with one of two hot beverages” and Spock’s “ostentatious pots and probably poisonous concoctions”, all while chiding himself for reminiscing about study sessions. Of all the stupid shit he could reminisce about at the ripe age of twenty-two, study sessions with a friend he could easily invite over to join him was probably the one of the most stupid. Bones was forced to pause and evaluate his situation as he realised that all his quiet tip-toeing about in an effort to leave Spock’s meditation undisturbed was probably null and fucking void, seeing as he had to manually grind the coffee beans, which would indubitably create enough noise to irritate those over-sensitive ears. Not that the vulcan could feel irritation. Fucking asshole.

Rolling his eyes at his own cankerous mood, he began to prepare his coffee, keeping half an ear on the sudden rustling noises from Spock’s bedroom as the disturbed vulcan did god-knows-what before coming out to lecture Leonard. Or to glare at him. Or condescend him. Maybe criticise him on how late he’d left it to study for this godforsaken exam. Or maybe Leonard was projecting onto his poor roommate, who he’d only known for the better half of a month. (During which, the cranky bastard side of his brain argued, said roommate had made his distaste for human culture and illogic clear, his particular dislike (it was dislike, regardless of whatever “vulcans don’t feel” bullshit he was trying to pull) of Leonard thinly veiled, and his disinclination to speak to Leonard in general blatantly obvious.) Most likely Spock would simply head into their shared living area to procure a cup of his noxious evening teas before returning to his meditation, not stooping so low as to acknowledge the source of the disruption to his nightly routine. Leonard’s mission to caffeinate himself was not under threat. It took more energy than Leonard would ever admit to quell the disappointment that bubbled up at the thought of Spock just ignoring him.

It was stupid-o-clock in the morning, of course the vulcan wasn’t going to engage in a full-blown academic conversation with him, what was he thinking? Bones haphazardly plopped the filter over his mug just as the kettle came to a boil, doggedly ignoring the squeak of Spock’s door and the sound of his bare feet against their tile floor.

“It is not recommended for humans to ingest beverages of such a high caffeine content at this hour.” Spock’s voice breaking the eerie silence of the late hour was enough to make Leonard’s usually still hands jerk, splashing his knuckles with the hot water. He managed to suppress a hiss of pain, determined not to let the vulcan see any weakness.

“It’s not generally recommended amongst humans to get your medical degree at Starfleet Academy, yet here I am, Spock.” Griped Bones, turning to face Spock with his mug in hand, the eye contact he made intended as a challenge. Try and stop me, Pointy.

Spock raised an eyebrow, which alerted Leonard to the vulcan’s significantly slower than normal movements. The damn vulcan was sleepy, he realised. In an infuriatingly adorable way, Spock blinked slowly twice before responding, a significant delay in his usual response times to Leonard’s taunts. “On the contrary, an education in Starfleet Academy is highly coveted amongst humans; its expansive curriculum makes its graduates highly sought after in careers outside of the academy. I see no logic in your statement.”

Bones rolled his eyes, knocking back half his coffee in a matter of seconds, and burning his tongue in the process. “I don’t see the logic in continuing to hold conversations with an individual you find so distastefully illogical, Mr.Spock.” He passed the strange traditional vulcan teapot out to his roommate along with the decidedly terran-style mug Spock seemed to prefer using.

Spock offered three more of his slow, dazed blinks before responding with a tilt of his head that was slightly more pronounced than the one he tended to make during the day. “Distasteful? I do not believe I have ever said as much, McCoy.”

Bones gave a single, barking laugh, shaking his head as he began to move back towards his bedroom. “Careful, Mr.Spock. Keep up the flattery and you might say something you regret.”

“You are studying?” Spock called after him, just as Leonard was closing his door.

Leonard watched Spock as he shuffled around their kitchen, preparing his tea, his normally purposefully brisk steps reduced to a half-asleep stumble. His roommate gave no indication of having spoken to him. “In my usual, time-consuming way. Yes I am, Mr.Spock.”

Spock did not face him, but the delay in his response was still significant, for the vulcan, “You study using this highly inefficient method only when learning independently, correct?”

“What is it you’re getting at? There’s only so many hours in a night, and some of us have work to do.” Growled Leonard, his prolonged view of the back of Spock’s house robes frustrating him. Their arguments were much less entertaining and all the more aggravating when he couldn’t look Spock in the eye. Spock attempted to answer while turning to face Leonard in his sleepy daze, forgetting that he was halfway through pouring the boiling water over the strainer, effectively dousing his front in the scalding liquid. There was a brief pause where Spock blinked down at the front of his robes, while Bones processed what had just happened before jerking into action. “Get that glorified dressing gown off of yourself, Spock!” He whisper-shouted, determined not to wake the entire residential block. Spock just blinked at himself, then at Leonard.

“It is burning.” He deadpanned, prompting Bones to roll his eyes and cross the room in a few quick strides.

“It’s boiling water, Spock, of course it’s burning.” He hissed tapping the lapels of the robes. “You need to get out of this so we can get you under some running, room temperature water, try and stop any blistering.” Spock finally seemed to register what was going on and began to unwrap the ties of the robes, turning away from Leonard as he did so. Leonard noticed his roommate look uneasy at the prospect of being shirtless around him, and decided to leave him to it. “I’ll go run the shower, you dry yourself off a bit and run any part of your arm that got caught in the stream under the tap. I’ll call you when the shower’s the right temperature, ok?”. Leonard waited for Spock’s nod before bolting off to their shared bathroom to start working.

So much for his productive night studying. It was starting to look like he’d be playing nurse for Spock until the on-campus medbay opened at five am. He was just beginning to realise exactly how fucked he was for the exam the following day when the door to their bathroom creaked open slowly. “Nearly there, Spock. I don’t recommend using any of your pungent herbal shit, we don’t want anything getting into any burst blisters or anything.”

“Your alarm is unwarranted, Leonard. There is no lasting damage done to my person.”

“Congratulations on your medical degree, Spock, didn’t realised you’d discovered a fast track. Y’could’ve told me.” Leonard drawled, not taking his eyes off of the shower, his wrist under the stream of water to monitor the temperature.

“You know I have done no such thing.” Spock huffed, his less alert state loosening his restraint enough to allow for such blatant emotionalism.

“Sarcasm, Spock. Somethin’ you’re gonna have to get used to if you plan on launching into the void canned in with a bunch of humans once we graduate.” Leonard was angling for a mild version of their normally acerbic exchanges, but Spock didn’t seem willing to take the bait.

“If you insist I must bathe in tepid water, I will comply, but I trust you understand the state of my health is my concern alone, and you have no power to forbid me from assisting you with your studies.”

“Bold of you to assume I want your assistance.” His final attempt to goad Spock fell just as flat as his others, and he gave a defeated sigh. “Please stay in until your skin’s returned to its normal complexion, alright?”

Spock gave a half nod and stood to the side to let Leonard pass out of the bathroom, which he did a mite faster than was strictly necessary. Sighing as Spock closed the door, Leonard began weighing the benefit of trying to study against the fact he was just worried enough to be distracted from anything too difficult. Leonard scoffed. “Who am I kidding, everything in this module is difficult enough to make me want to rip my fucking eyes out.” He continued grumbling incoherently as he made his way back to his room, throwing a dirty look at the mess of teapots, mugs, and cafetieres as he walked past it. Spock would have a hissy fit. Or, the closest thing the teachings of Surak would allow to a hissy fit. “Goddamn, green-blooded, neat-freak.” Leonard groused, frowning at the state of his room.

Leonard often consoled himself for his lack of cleanliness within the confines of his bedroom using the fact he very rarely sullied shared living areas. He liked to think of his room as a sort of nesting area; cluttered, but cosy and homely. Spock thought the state of his room was indicative of his disorganised mind and illogical outlook on life. He looked around his room, trying to decide how to partially tidy it most effectively before Spock got out of the shower.

Ultimately, he decided to leave anything that could be passed off as studying material (including, but not limited to the notes Jim had left behind on Starfleet-approved mixed martial arts) and to gather all clothing into one pile behind the door. He had just finished that and was contemplating moving some of the collection of unwashed, half-empty mugs he’d forgotten about into the sink when someone cleared their throat at the threshold of the door, causing Leonard to jump. “Goddammit, Spock, y’could’ve killed me!” He snapped, subtly kicking the sleeve of one of his hoodies behind the door.

Spock’s eyes followed his foot as he attempted this subterfuge, which lead him directly to the pile of clothes. He raised an eyebrow, looking back at Leonard. “I was unaware the human heart was so poorly designed that even one belonging to a relatively fit for duty, young man was susceptible to cardiac arrest caused by unpredictable scenarios. It leads me to wonder why Starfleet consists mostly of such an inept species.”

The adorable, sleepy Spock had disappeared, leaving the sharper, more alert, more dangerously attractive Spock that Bones was going to have a hard time not coming onto over the next year. “I think I preferred you when y’couldn’t string together a sentence.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he stepped purposefully towards Leonard’s desk. “You are hardly the image of a functioning officer after your rest cycle has been disrupted, McCoy.” He quipped, pouring over the notes Leonard had been working on before the whole tea-spilling fiasco. “You have been repeatedly transcribing the same five notes for upwards of an hour, if you maintained a constant rate of words per minute.”

Leonard shrugged, striding over to his desk to snatch the notes back defensively. “What of it?” He snapped, picking up his pad of paper (not good for the environment, but he’d loaned his PADD that he usually used for revision to Jim a week ago and wasn’t due to get it back until that weekend) and old-fashioned pen that used to belong to his mother.

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard’s odd behaviour, picking up the textbook that had started to slip down the back of the overcrowded desk to leaf through it. “It is a highly inefficient method of study. Particularly given your current time constraints.”

“Spare me the lecture, Spock. It works, and that’s all that matters.” Leonard drawled, having already resumed his scribbling, desperately attempting to commit one of the longer definitions required for the exam to memory.

“That statement has no grounds in fact, nor does your extension based on the untruth follow any semblance of logic.”

Leonard uttered a string of curses in his native tongue, making Spock consider taking Earth English classes on the side, if only to aggravate the med student in his own native tongue. Not that Spock would ever admit to such irrational motivations. “Dammit, Spock,” Leonard’s familiar growls in Standard had less venom than they usually did this early in their verbal sparring, a fact that drew Spock’s concern sharply onto the med student. “,either sit down and help a guy out, or get out and let me be. Ain’t that hard.” Spock eased himself down onto the human’s bed carefully, sitting cross-legged beside him with the textbook balanced carefully on his knee.

“I have heard you listening to music whilst studying on previous occasions. I have noted you do not tend to do so while I am meditating, however, I am doing so now. If it assists you, I would recommend you indulge.” Carefully watching the human for signs of distress while he spoke, Spock decided another snip at him would not hurt him. “Your human focus is dismal enough without depriving it of the stimulus necessary for it to operate at an acceptable level of efficiency.”

Spock watched with mild satisfaction as Leonard threw his archaic study materials down in a small rage, his eyebrows practically dancing as he spluttered furiously for exactly 3.2 seconds before responding coherently. “Why, you listen here, you green-blooded son-of-a-bitch, y’ain’t doin’ much good in this here bedroom, so you’ve got about three seconds ‘fore i throw you out!”

Spock unfurled himself and stood, but he didn’t make a move for the door. Instead, the stoic bastard moved back to Leonard’s desk, sorting papers into piles as he systemically searched the surface for something. Finally, he picked up Leonard’s music device: a miniature PADD his younger sister had constructed for her first set of practical engineering exams, programmed to run audio files only. “A’ight, give it here.” Leonard stretched out his hand, palm up, waiting for Spock to hand it over. Spock took a moment to briefly page through the audio files Leonard had equipped the tiny device with, the corners of his mouth turning down fractionally. “Somethin’ the matter, Spock?”

“I was under the impression that humans preferred to listen to classical music whilst studying?”

“That is classical, Spock.”

“I do not recognise it.”

Spock looked up just in time to watch the furrows between Leonard’s brows deepening. “Well, it’s classical, terran music, not vulcan, so I don’t suspect y’would.”

Without thinking, Spock said, “My mother made sure I was acquainted with many kinds of classical terran music as a child. I expected to recognise at least one of these songs from the information she provided me with.”

“Your mother liked terran music?”

Spock didn’t even pause to consider the trust required for him to offer an insight into his personal history. He just did. “My mother was human. I am only half-vulcan.”

“Might be half-vulcan, but you’re still a whole pain in the ass.” The rapidity of Leonard’s answer set Spock totally at ease, and the vulcan allowed himself to relax slightly in the presence of the human. “Y’still’ve done absolutely fuck all to help me, and I really do need to study. Y’can stay if y’want, but I can’t be shootin’ the breeze with you all night, y’hear?”. Spock’s look of confusion at the idiom was enough to send Leonard back on the defensive, and he was about to launch into a strong verbal eviction from his room when something almost-but-not-quite-clear quickly swept over Spock’s eyeballs. “What in the fucking HELL was that!” He shrieked, immediately grabbing his training tricorder from under his bed and scanning Spock, studies forgotten.

Spock’s alarm was only notable in his shoulders, which tensed as Leonard crowed into his personal space to a degree that would’ve been considered improper on Vulcan. Spock did not make any movement to rectify this situation. “McCoy?”. Leonard was muttering to himself as he scanned Spock for a third time. “Leonard?”

“What was that, Spock?”

“I am unclear on what it is exactly you are referring to.” Spock maintained solid eye contact with the Leonard, concern for the human’s mental well-being bubbling under his cool exterior. Leonard blinked, twice, incredulously, before putting his hand on the junction between Spock’s neck and shoulder, which was covered by his turtleneck. He looked at though he was going to say something before he went extremely pale and spluttered incoherently for a few moments before beginning anew with his tricorder scans. “Leonard?”

“Spock, something’s happening to your eyes.” He growled in response, pressing at the junction where his hand rested. “Turn your head, I want to scan it from another angle. Do you feel dizzy, nauseous, anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing. The level of confusion I am experiencing is within normal parameters for my interactions with you.” Spock felt a wave on content pass over him when McCoy stopped scanning for a second to glare at him, before shaking his head and resuming his activities.

After a few minutes, he withdrew the scanner, dragging a hand down his face. “Spock, I don’t suppose vulcans happen to have a second pair of eyelids, do they?”

“Have your anatomy classes failed to cover that of vulcans?” Spock narrowed his eyes, deflecting from the fact that he didn’t actually know if the second eyelid was still a functioning part of vulcan biology. He’d learnt about it as a vestigial organ, but his hybrid nature had fascinated many scientists back home. One of the reasons he had decided to leave for Starfleet; Spock had hoped to avoid the invasive poking and prodding done in the name of research. That being said, the soft poking sensation of Leonard’s fingers through his shirt was far from uncomfortable, and Spock felt strange when the sensation stopped.

“We do, but the piss-poor files the VSA are willing to relinquish to us mere humans are so fucking full of redaction and contradiction that all we’ve left to work with are a few vague diagrams and thoughouly unhelpful paragraphs on the composition of vulcan blood.” Leonard took a step back from Spock, restoring the traditional respectful distance between them. Much too distant for Spock’s liking. “You’re sure you’re not going to die in the next few hours until we can get you to the sickbay tomorrow?”

“I do not need-”

“Spock, you’ve not only burnt yourself-”

“It is superficial at most, and does not require-”

“-but you’ve just discovered what might maybe be an eyelid but could equally -for all we know- be-”

“-medical attention. Your anxiety is unwarranted and your focus on your studies has waned to what could prove to be a detrimental degree if you do not-”

“-a malignant growth of some sort, you have to go to find out if that thing is hurting you or not at least-”

“-cease your illogical fussing and resume.”

“-and I- Spock are you even listening to me?” Leonard’s gradually increasing volume finally peaked out, and Spock raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “Ah. shit, the neighbours.”

“At this hour, we can hope they are in a deep enough sleep not to have heard-”

“Are you kidding me Spock, I practically screamed-”

“If we continue in this vein, you will lose what little volume control you posses. Please sit down once again and I shall try and gauge how much you have prepared for this test already and we shall start from there.” Spock’s eyebrow lowered itself slowly as he relaxed once more, Leonard sitting down on the bed close to the headboard, making it easy for Spock to sit relatively close to him without making it look like anything but a logical decision for optimum viewing of the human’s notes. Not that it wasn’t motivated by logic. The fact his side was pressed soothingly to Leonard’s was a pleasant bonus. “That eyelid thing is a bit strange, you’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

Spock levelled him with a flat stare. “I shall visit the nurse tomorrow if you cease this discussion.”

Leonard shrugged and dropped his head down and began working on a list of things he felt confident on for the next day in an attempt to hide his smug smile. It didn’t work, but Spock didn’t say anything.

A few hours later, they had taken a break from Spock’s relentless verbal assessments for Leonard to give his brain a chance to process the points they had been drilling and for Spock to asses the data he had collected on Leonard’s rate of retention of information to try and streamline their next bout. Except Leonard’s head had dropped onto Spock’s shoulder, and the heat from where their sides were pressed tightly together was relaxing Spock into a borderline meditative state. It was only when his chest started to vibrate lightly when Spock snapped himself back to reality, confident he had not woken his study mate with his unfortunate vulcan habit. Hubris was not a trait vulcans were capable of possessing, so Spock classed his slide in judgement as a calculation error, not as a result of unfounded pride.

“Were’y’... purrin’, Spock?” The human’s voice was muffled by Spock’s turtleneck, so the flush high on the his cheeks went unnoticed by Leonard.

“It is... an unfortunate, involuntary response of Vulcans.” Was Spock’s clipped answer, suddenly awake and almost frantically pouring over the notes he had made on Leonard’s progress.

“Mmm, sounds like more of y’all’s goddamn cagey nature. Outta be somethin’ your doctor outta know.” Leonard slowly picked himself up off of Spock’s shoulder. Spock felt irrationally irate at the loss of contact, despite the fact their sides remained pressed together. “Ah, shit. How long was I out?”

“Twelve minutes.” Was Spock’s response, glad to have moved on from his embarrassing lapse in control. Leonard’s response wasn’t forthcoming, so Spock chanced a glance at his roommate, only to find his mouth wide open, eyes closed, and seemingly struggling for breath. Spock’s basic first aid training kicked in, fully aware that humans, much like vulcans, required a constant supply of oxygen, and he began to thump at Leonard’s back, the angle much too awkward for him to apply the force necessary to dislodge whatever may have been blocking the med student’s airways. Except, the med student seemed to have cleared his airways on his own. And was using his perfectly clear airways to yell at Spock.

“The hell’re you doin’? Coulda seriously hurt me with that goddamn “superior vulcan strength” you won’t shut up about! Ain’t a fella allowed t’yawn in his own damn bedroom?”

Spock quickly stood up from the bed, and Leonard watched as the relaxed stance the vulcan had had previously completely vanished. “You appeared to be in respiratory distress. The training I have thus far received in first aid on humans required the first thing to do in such a situation would be-“

“Dammit Spock, I’m a med student, I know what t’do when someone can’t fucking breathe! I, oddly enough, was breathing just fine!”

Spock’s chin lifted fractionally, the last of his near-tender demeanour hardening. “Incorrect. Your chest ceased to rise and fall regularly, you had opened your mouth for maximum oxygen intake and yet you did not inhale, and the distress weakened you insofar as you were forced to close your eyes.”

Leonard looked at him, incredulous. “I yawned.”

“I do not understand. Does this correlate with your -“

“I yawned, you thick-skulled-“ Leonard stopped and took a breath, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Don’t worry, s’just an unfortunate, involuntary response of humans.”

Spock recognised he was being quoted, but unlike previous, malicious quotations made by various humans (including this patprticular one), his roommate did not seem to be trying to get a rise out of him, so he decided to retaliate. “That is the nature of most human responses, voluntary or otherwise.”

The outraged eyebrow that was slowly creeping up Leonard’s forehead was completely undermined by the sleepy grin that was taking over his entire face. “I’m not going to get much more study for this assent done, huh?”

“Assessment?”

“Yeah, the thing we’ve been studying for.” Leonard looked confused, but Spock’s head tilt betrayed his own befuddlement.

“You referred to it previously as an exam.” His arms crossed his chest, marring his perfect posture slightly. It looked to Leonard that, despite his confusion, his roommate was more relaxed than he had been.

“Yeah, an exam, an assessment, no difference, is there?”

Spock would later deny the look he gave Leonard was ‘incredulous’, Leonard would exaggerate his expression into one of absolute shock when retelling the tale to Jim the following evening. “There is a considerable difference, Leonard. Considering the brevity of this particular elective, the only grade that might impact your final score will be the final examination. Assessments in such a relatively insignificant elective will not affect your final grade in any serious manner.”

“It’s a matter of pride, Spock.” Leonard smiled, shaking his head. “Gotta keep up appearances.”

Spock glowered down at his roommate, the expression so slight that Leonard didn’t notice it at all. The silence strung out for a moment longer than absolutely necessary before Spock sat down at the foot of Leonard’s bed. “Pride is illogical, McCoy.”

Leonard snorted, shaking his head. “Pride and spite are the only things that keep me going, take ‘em away and I wouldn’t do a thing.”

He watched as Spock’s eyebrow crept upwards, his head tipping lightly towards him. “Your finger brushed my collarbone earlier, when you touched my robes.”

Leonard went a bright red, and his respiratory distress seemed genuine this time. He leapt off of the bed, putting the distance of the width of the room between them. “Fucking shit, Spock? Why didn’t y’tell me! Fucking touch-telepathy, that was probably stupidly invasive, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit! I’m sorry. I’m fucking dense, I thought- I don’t know what I was doing, shouldn’t’ve gone near you-”

“Calm yourself Leonard-”

“And now you’re too polite to call me out on it, goddammit, we had lectures on proper conduct with vulcans, fuck-”

“Leonard.” Spock had stood and walked over to the human. Leonard was shocked when Spock put his hand on his shoulder. “There is no offence taken, do you understand?”. Leonard seemed to have lost his voice, but nodded. “I only brought up the incident because I sensed only concern and concentration from you through the contact. There was no bitterness, no concern for your pride or reputation. You saw your patient and thought of nothing but how best to administer effective and efficient treatment.”

Leonard had not made any indication of wanting to brush off his hand, so Spock decided to return to the personal space he had occupied while Leonard had been scanning him earlier. Leonard blinked several times, eyes crossing slightly to stare at the tip of Spock’s nose, only an inch, maybe less, from his own. His mouth suddenly went dry, and he swallowed hard, once. Spock’s nose had never looked so kissable. He shook his head- not an appropriate thought to be having while Spock was, wait, what was Spock saying? Leonard could hear him speaking, but his brain wasn’t processing the words correctly. Or at all. He thought maybe he was complimenting him, or maybe trying to get Leonard to explain his dry, almost self-critical comment. Hell, Spock could be reciting Shakespeare for all Leonard knew. Or cared. The vulcan’s voice was deeper than it was normally, more like it was when he had been sleepily pouring his tea earlier, less like it had been for their shared life up until today. The vibration of this deeper voice reminded him of the purring, the utter relaxation and warmth that had accompanied those vibrations, and... and Spock was still talking and Leonard still had no idea what he was saying because his mouth was moving very nicely, had his mouth always moved that nicely?

“BONES!” That voice would pull Leonard out of any dazed stupor he could possibly fall into. That voice, with that tone always meant one of two things. Jim needed his help, or Jim had done something he needed to confess to that would probably piss Leonard off. “BONES? YOU HOME?”

Spock had somehow managed to perch himself on the edge of Leonard’s desk, textbook and notes in hand, pointedly not looking at Bones. Rolling his eyes, Leonard walked out into the living area. “What the fuck have you done, Jim?”

“Bones!” Jim practically bounced over to the med student, which meant he’d absolutely fucked something up that was going to piss him off. Clapping his shoulder playfully, Jim used the momentum of his bounce to swing himself around Bones, heading for his room. “You’re not going to believe what a weird mix-up there’s been, man! So, look, I-why, hello, Mr.Spock!” Jim glanced over his shoulder with an “i-cannot-believe-you-got-the-hot-guy-we’ve-both-been-crushing-on-into-your-room’ look on his face, his mouth slightly open and his eyes comically large in mock disbelief. “What’s a hot guy like you doing in a dingy place like this?” He had turned his impish gaze back on Spock, gesturing vaguely around Leonard’s room as he mentioned the ‘dingy place’.

Spock’s face remained impassive, not betraying the flash of amusement he always felt when the younger human flirted blatantly with him. “Vulcans’ core temperatures are, on average, actually lower than that of humans.”

Where Leonard would’ve snapped back a witty counter attack in order to incite a fascinating debate, Jim simply leaned right into the lewd implications only he could draw from such a droll, basic fact. “Are you saying that you think Bones and I are hot, Mr.Spock?”. The man had far more confidence in his charismatic abilities than any other human Spock had seen knocking their own glasses off of their face when discussing something passionately with a lecturer.

Spock was about to fire back a response -noting in the back of his mind that of the friendships he had deliberately built with a select few humans in the hopes of appeasing his mother, the ones he had formed with Jim and Leonard, though not particularly strong yet, brought him a feeling of completion- when Leonard came into the room, red-faced and rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Jim, you’ll make him uncomfortable. Vulcans don’t flirt, that’d require expression of emotion.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard, mildly puzzled. Had Leonard not recognised their discussion before Jim had arrived for what it was? Was his respect and admiration of the medical student not clear?

“What is it you’ve done, Jim?” Bones had leaned himself against the door frame, staring fixedly at his ex-roommate, who was glancing between Spock and Bones with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Well, I was going to apologise for a stupid thing I did, but seeing as it wound up with all three of us in a room with a bed, I’d say no apologies needed.” Jim couldn’t keep a straight face delivering that line, his flirtatious demeanour crumbling into pure giddiness. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop. S’just weird seeing the two of you together, it’s like you guys exist separately in my mind, and seeing you getting cosy in Bones’s room is just so wacky-“

“Jim!” Bones’s bark made Jim laugh even harder, and Spock allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch ever so slightly as Jim’s merriment grew and Leonard became more and more flustered. These humans affected Spock more than he’d care to admit, and watching them interact brought a sense of contentedness over him. “It’s fucking crazy o clock in the morning, what in the hell could’y’ve done that y’need to confess so bad?”

“Small scheduling error, Bones, no big deal! In my defence, I didn’t realise how late it is, I was reading this really cool book that Galia’s sister sent her, so far it’s been absolutely gripping, can’t put it down-“

“Jim.”

His blue eyes darted around the room nervously as he giggled anxiously. “You don’t have a test tomorrow, Bones, I do. I fucked up and logged it in the PADD you’d loaned me instead of my own PADD, so I guessed you got a reminder and I know your memory is shit outside of your studies, so I figured you’d be up cramming-“

“Jim-boy, what’d you just say? Because if you said what I think you said, I’m going to-“

“Leonard, I would not recommend engaging in a physical altercation with Jim. He has considerable more experience in such matters.”

Spock felt a shiver down his spine as Leonard’s dangerously icy glare turned on him. “Are you sayin’ y’don’t think I can take ‘im, Spock?”

“That is not what he said Bones! C’mon, how bad was it? You got to bond with your roommate, and now my two best friends are on speaking terms, at least. Sounds like a win-win to me!”

“I’m gonna need the two of y’all to get the fuck outta my room, if I’m going to get any sleep at all before tomorrow.”

Jim’s smirk got even more mischievous, the glint in his eye almost dangerous. “Maybe we’ve planned for you to get no sleep tonight, Bones.”

“I resent your implicating me in your antics, Jim.” Spock was definitely grinning, goddammit! There’s no way a vulcan could manoeuvre their mouths any further into a vague smiling shape.

“You’re not denying it-”

“Both of y’all need to shut up and go to bed, it’s late.” Leonard groused, having had enough of Jim’s playfulness, which was a bit too much for how late it was. Also, the thoughts and feelings he was invoking in Leonard with his meaningless teasing were enough for him to overthink on for the rest of his life. Jim’s pout made Bones fully aware of just how much he wouldn’t mind kissing his best friend, which reminded him of how close he had been to doing just that to his roommate, which reminded him of how it was just his fucking luck to be attracted to the two people he most defiantly shouldn’t be attracted to. The two most unattainable people on campus. He was probably a sadist. Jim sat next to Spock on his bed, and Spock had turned to mutter something in Jim’s ear. On his bed. He was absolutely a sadist.

“That’s a good point, Spock. I think it’ll be difficult to strong-arm him into spending more time with the two of us as well.”

Spock had the good grace to look up at Leonard with what could be interpenetrated as an apologetic expression. “Those were not my... exact words.”

“I’m a med student, not a socialite, dammit!” Jim was sitting very close to Spock, they looked so right together it was sickening, and Spock was clearly mooning over Jim, and Bones... Bones needed to sleep. Now. “I’ll come over to your place tomorrow after I get out of the labs at six, Jim. If Spock comes, he comes. I don’t care.” He did care. A lot.

“Seeing as two of us live in these quarters, it would be more logical for us to reconvene here, would it not?”

“Nah, Jim’s got a better replicator.”

“I’ve also got better taste in holos, so...”

“You absolutely do not-”

“I don’t think watching documentaries counts as a relaxing night in-”

“I shall be there, eighteen-hundred hours.” Spock interrupted, his expression doing nothing to ease the daydreams determinedly banging at Leonard’s subconscious as he looked between the two humans. That odd eyelid-thing slid open and shut twice, which Leonard probably shouldn’t have found cute when he didn’t know whether or not it was hurting Spock. But he did, nonetheless.

Jim clapped Spock’s shoulder, which stopped the eyelid blinking, and resulted in a rather cat-like freezing of his entire frame. “Excellent!” Jim jumped up, bouncing out the bedroom door. “It’s a date, gentlemen!” And he was gone before Leonard’s outraged spluttering could hold him up.

“It’s not a- dammit, we’re not- Spock-”

Spock stopped to place his hand on Leonard’s shoulder, deliberately making eye-contact. “To borrow Jim’s turn of phrase, ‘it’s a date’, Leonard.”

And that rendered Leonard totally speechless, left staring mutely at Spock’s retreating back. What the fuck kind of emotional fuckery had he gotten himself into?

#im feral for spones goddamnit #spones #spock #bones #bones mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #leonard mccoy #academy au #author is lazy so joanna is bones's sister #jim kirk is in here somewhere #jim kirk #basically me projecting onto bones for over 2000 words #this would've been a little bit more legible if i'd focused it on either bones or spock but i DIDNT DO THAT #this is the definition of self-gratuitous #star trek #fic #star trek fic #wait no projecting onto bones for over 4000 words im so sorry #spock doesn't know what a yawn is and thinks leonard is dying #bones doesnt know about the vulcan second eyelid and thinks bones is dying #also purring is in here #becuase i am HERE FOR vulcans=logical cats #bored writes #mckirk #i guess #that wasnt meant to happen but here we are #also mcspirk #mcspirk #hakhalkhsalkha #me projecting onto bones for around 6000 words because i literally dont shut up ever

5 notes · View notes

mars-the-4th-planet · 5 years ago

Text

MisterCrimeBoks8 is gay and does crimes.

It was a quiet, uneventful day at the California State Library. A small out of the way place to look at books and movies, and maybe play Carmen Santiago on the boxy computers. A nice place to be, for sure. Isaac Munger from the Isaac Munger show sat on the couch with his girlfriend Ko from the Ko Sho. She was not wearing a wife leash today, but how much trouble could she get up to sitting on the couch with her Box? Ko was content having Box read BNHA manga today. But on the north facing side there was a large glass door, and through that door prepared to ruin everyones day was... Yes, Mister Crime Boks 8.

MisterCrimeBoks8 was an illegal man, who looked very similar to Isaac Munger. Not that most would know because he was wearing a crime mask and a hoodie. In his hand he carried a 1979 Authentic Knife. Sharp on both sides of the blade and short enough to hide, it was perfect for carrying around in secret.

Instead of opening the door, he dramatically decided to kick it in. But his foot bounced off as the glass was quite thicc. So he picked up a loose bricc and smashed it like an absolute dicc.

With the glass door shattered in pieces he walked in, now having gotten everyones attention. He almost casually strolled up to the woman behind the checkout desk and demanded: "Give me your money!"

The desk lady looked at him confused. "Huh? Sir this is a library."

"Money! NOW!"

The librarian shrugged and handed him a tin can with 1.65$ in late fees. "Here you go I guess?"

"teh fuck is this?"

The desk lady cringed at his use of "teh"

"Dude, why are you trying to rob a library? Ever heard of a bank?" Jukebox asked, while his girlfriend glared as MisterCrimeBoks8.

"I tried the bank first. They shot at me and instead of getting money they just gave me more debt."

"I See."

The desk lady sighed. "You got your money, please leave before you break something else."

MisterCrimeBoks8 pointed his knife at her. "Oh God why does he have a knife?!" Someone shouted from the back.

"Give me the biggest book you have!" He demanded.

"I wish you let me carry my knives around..." mumbled ko sadly. "Maybe I could fight him..."

"No ko," box whispered. "I would not want to risk you getting hurt. I would take the knife and fight him myself anyway. You know the rules, no wife leash in public means no knives in public."

Ko pouted.

The desk lady handed MisterCrimeBoks8 a Bible. "Is this big enough?"

"No! You can get these for free, why would I want that? Get me the biggest VALUBLE book you have!"

The desk lady waved over her assistant librarian, a young woman training to become a desk lady. Sort of like an apprentice. She was not used to robberies because this was her first one, and she shook a little from nerves.

"This bastard wants a valuable book to steal."

The assistant nodded and handed him her diary.

MisterCrimeBoks8 growled like an animal which made everyone cringe and tossed it in the trash. "I said a BIG ONE!"

"D-Do you want a g-guide on how to... Um... Live a life that is more likely to have an autobiography about i-it?" She asked nervously, presenting a large unwieldy book. "It cost us a lot..."

"Hmm... Yes. That sounds valuable." He said, not knowing it was a stupid book that the library considered a waste of shelf space because no one ever wanted to read it. They had not even bought the thing, it had just been dropped off in the book return one day without any library sticker. The only other books that had been dropped off this way were the twenty-five bibles the library was trying to get rid of.

"But I also want money! You! Dumbass!" He marched up to Isaac Munger and brandished his knife. "Give me money!"

Ko jumped into jukebox protectively. "No! Dont rob my boyfriend!"

He pointed the tip of the knife at her. "Move or I will stab."

"Nope. IM A GIRL DOING NOTHING TO YOU SO YOU CANT HURT ME HA!" Ko pointed out and laughed.

"Ah, but you see..." His eye did an anime twinkle. "I am gay, so the 'you cant hurt girls when it is not self defense' rule does not apply to me."

"Dammit! Thats how the law works!" Isaac Munger exclaimed from under Ko.

Ko continued to use her body as a shield regardless. She closed her eyes and winced in anticipation.

"It sure is." Came a voice from over by the smashed door.

MisterCrimeBoks8 backed away from the two, and turned to look. It was Justin Case! And four policemen!

"This library has an automatic emergency alarm door. It was sounded to us as soon as you broke it, idiot American!" Justin Case laughed. He was aiming a four-barrel shotgun at MisterCrimeBoks8 and each police officer was also pointing a pistol at his chest.

"I suggest you lay your knife down and surrender."

"Never!" Justin Case raised his arm with the knife ready to throw it. "I will kill the librarian unless you drop you weapons and leave!"

Ko and Jukebox tackled him from behind and together they were able to wrestle him down. The police came over and took over restraining him and began dragging him away for a good whooping as usual in Californian law, since their policy was to rough up prisoners before taking them to jail so it would look like there was more resistance.

"Yay, we did it!" Ko said cheerfully.

"No, I did it. Good job to me. Another case solved by Justin Case!" Justin Case began puffing on a pipe and began to cough before throwing it away. "Never mind, I look cool enough already that I dont need to destroy my lungs."

"Hey! Did he take this?" One officer said holding up the stolen book.

"Yes but you can keep it." The desk lady smiled.

"Sweet, I always wanted an autobiography." The officer replied.

"Mom- I mean, Miss Klobuchar, did I do good in that robbery?" The assistant librarian asked.

"Yes you did. I will send a letter of recommendation to the higher ups so you may become a full librarian soon!"

The assistant librarian squealed and hugged her boss happily.

"What a good outcome for everyone except MisterCrimeBoks8. Wait... I didnt get anything! And they call this a happy ending..." Jukebox grumbled a bit.

Ko kissed him.

">_<" he could only blush in response.

2 notes · View notes

ecotone99 · 6 years ago

Text

[SF]Aberration: Ruue (unedited)

About six years ago he showed up at the university I was attending in the great city of New Orleans. I don't really remember anyone knowing too much about him at first. He was new is all, and kind of just appeared out of no where. I only ever saw him in the courtyard in the middle of the school always doing something random like lazily playing a guitar, or bouncing a hacky sack. The kind of stuff that begged for attention but no one ever actually wanted to pay him any. He always looked like he was ready to give the most perfect answer to any question anyone would ask him. He held himself with confidence. The only thing is that the busy student life never permitted anyone to muster up the courage to talk to him. At first I thought he was attending. After some time passed and he was only ever in the courtyard I came to the conclusion that he was one of those people that lived close by and just hung out around campus because he didn't have any friends or anything better to do. Late one Wednesday night I found myself outside walking back to my dorm after spending too much time at my friends place drinking and playing video games. Our finals were over earlier than most students so we didn't have much to worry about except waking up for class the next morning while everyone else was still stressing over studying for tests. The peculiar part was when I walked across the grassy courtyard I saw him. He was still sitting off in the corner. This time laying on his back staring at the sky with a cigarette in his mouth. In my drunken state I finally decided to ask him his name. Stumbling over myself but not with any less courage I watched him blow smoke out of his mouth without even taking the cigarette out. "Whats your name?" I think I said, probably slurring a little bit. For the first time I saw this guy make actual contact with another human being by acknowledging my prescence. Without moving anything except his neck and eyes he looked at me lazily then continued to look at the sky. There was about a five second pause between my question and him saying, "Im Ruue" I wasn't sure if Ruue wanted anything to do with me and if I werent drunk I probably wouldve then said goobye and went on my way, but instead I just laid next to him. I looked at the sky for a minute or two. You couldnt see any stars. It was just a pale black up there, but Ruue seemed like he could see something so I asked, "What are we looking for Ruue?" Another pause, "Nothin man... I'm just really high..." Ruue knew I was drunk. I wasnt expecting him to say that and honestly I think he said it just to throw me off but after a slight hesitation we both burst out in laughter, laughing at our selves laughing at each other and laughing at the fact that there were no stars in the sky. That night Ruue told me a hard to believe story about how he woke up one day in a dorm room without knowing how he had gotten there or why he was there. He spent a few days in the room before even exiting and discovered the campus. He explained how the courtyard had the most flow of traffic and he waited every day for someone to approach him because obviously there had to be a reason he was here. If anyone was going to find him it would be in this courtyard. I asked him if I was the person he was supposed to be meeting but he didn't know. The only way he could tell is "If time begins moving forward again." I had no clue what he was on about but I felt like there was a meaning behind what he said, he just didnt even know it yet. That night we shared a blunt and went up to my dorm room, a tiny little flat with enough space for a single bed and a person to lay on the floor. I insisted he sleep in the bed after begging him to stay the night, but he wouldnt have it. We stayed up and talked for hours. He told me about the vague memories he had of his home and his roommates. The girl he loved. I told him about cliché college stuff like final exams and girls I'd never get. I wasnt sure about his intentions with me but when we finally began resting our heads I reached my hand up from the floor where I was laying and I gently grabbed his. He didnt recoil. I was happy. The next week consisted of us spending almost all of our time together. Eventually he got bored of the courtyard and joined me for my final couple of classes. That week was surreal. All the otherstudents had left. My friends bid me farewell for the break and went home to their families. Me and Ruue stayed together for the break. The school became an empty shell with us as its playthings. The peculiar night happened next. The one I'll never forget, solely because of the look of pure horror on Ruue's face that's painted in my memory until the day I die. We were still fresh and enjoying each others company. There was so much more I didnt know about him, but we were doing our routine for the past week's nights. We left the cafeteria with fattening snacks and shitty drinks, to sit at what I liked to call our picnic table in the courtyard. If I had known what was going to happen next I wouldnt have made such a connection. I wouldnt have ruined the memory of that school for myself for eternity. I wouldnt have even made eye contact with what seemed like this precious soul. But lo the following took place. A thunderous explosion and great blue light took place behind us in the center of the grassy field. My initial thought was lighting had struck but as my vision came to I saw several people standing in the spot of the explosion. There were about twelve men dressed in all black looking almost like a swat team but there were no letters on any of their uniforms. Directly in the middle of the men stood a woman. I remember her bright purple hair and long white trench coat. The most frightening bit was that all of the people who had miracioulsly appeared before us were each holding a gun. The men each had an assualt rifle and the woman in the middle held a handgun. All of which were pointed immediately in our direction. The entire scene illuminated by the dim hallogenic lights of the courtyard at night. The moment Ruue turned around and witnessed this phenomenon I could hear him say, "Here we go" I looked at him and asked, "What is that? What's going on?" I suddenly became concerned. Ruue then turned to me and said with big eyes, "I'm sorry, but the truth is you're not the reason I was brought here. Please. Please!" he begged me. "Do not cry. I have very much enjoyed our time together." When Ruue said that I became even more concerned and also frightened. I said hastely, "What is going on?" but before he could say another word the woman with purple hair was directly behind him and iterjected. "Ruue. You're not supposed to be here. I know this probably wasnt you're fault but there was a slip up and well, we have to fix it. Ruue then pleaded in a way I hadnt known him. "Please" he said. "I wont change anything. Its going to be alright." More questions flooded my head but no one was even looking at me. The woman grabbed Ruue by his arm very easily I might add. He was lanky. I couldn't imagine much muscle on him but he still struggled fruitlessly. His efforts did nothing as she began dragging him towards the other men. I jumped across the picnic table and screamed, "Hey!" At this time two of the armed men in black came towards me pointing their guns at my face. "This doesnt concern you young man. If I were you I'd get very far away from here quite soon." One of them had said in a strong voice. There wasnt much I could do. I asked what they were doing with Ruue but the other man then screamed for my silence and slammed the butt of his gun into my jaw. I felt several of my teeth fall out as I hit the ground but I kept my consciousness. Blood filled my mouth and ran down my cheek. I made the decision to maybe not say anything else, but Ruue was being held down by four more of the other men as the rest pulled out a large long piece of wood I hadnt noticed earlier. It took about six men to finally impale the piece of wood into the ground how they intended and when they cleared away I felt horror flood my body. It was a cross. The men in black had staked a huge wooden cross into the ground of the courtyard right in front of Ruue. I could here him screaming right about this time. He was scared. The woman stood next to Ruue with her back to me about twenty yards away and her gun pointed at him. She said, "You are sentenced to death by the Galactic Interdimensional Federation." and then backed away. The men in black then hoisted Ruue up above their heads and held him to the cross. His legs kicked as he cried and pleaded, "Please dont do this! Please! I don't want to die!" The men in black said nothing and if I could have seen their faces under the masks they would have been emotionless. One of the men pulled a hammer out of a bucket and at this moment I thought that they had to be kidding. Two men held Ruues right hand to the cross as another hammered a nail through it. Ruue shrieked. I'll never forget that first scream of pain. I tried to stand but they just knocked me back down to the cold grass. TAP! The man swung the hammer again. Screams. TAP! The last swing of the hammer. By this time Ruue was hyperventilating with cheeks glistining under hallogens. The men let go of his right side and let the nail hold it up. Screams. They then began the whole process again with his left hand. Ruue seemed to become numb. He was out of screams and just whimpered as they nailed his other hand down. As they let go of him he kicked one man hard in the face knocking him to the ground. To which resulted in three more men in black holding his feet to the vertical piece of the cross. The man with the hammer then pulled out a thick metal stake. I nearly fainted. They peirced both of Ruues feet to the cross with the stake. Blood. It took several more swings of the hammer than it did when they nailed his hands and strengthier swings at that. Ruue seemed paralyzed. He locked eyes with me as the men finally stood back from him. There was a moment of complete nothingness. Everything just stopped and the only sound was Ruues cries. He said to me, "You are what I was supposed to find here! Time began moving the moment I met you! I'll never forget you! Thank you so much friend!" Two of the men in black promptly tossed a liquid dousing Ruue while the woman in purple hair tossed a lit match at the base of the cross. The courtyard brightened. Ruues screams filled the air. I watched his skin bubble and turn black. His screams became a gurgle and cough until silenced forever. We all sat there for what seemed like an eternity. They all watched his corpse burn out until it was just a skinny black clump. It was dark again. The woman came to me. She said, "Whats your name?" "D-David" I stuttered. "Are you going to kill me now?" "No." she said with peirced lips. "We are here to prevent changes. Not cause them. You will never see this again." Then, they just left. The woman with the purple hair and the men in black armor, they disappeared into a flash of blue light. I was left alone in the dark courtyard with the charred corpse of Ruue, crucified before me...

submitted by /u/barrydalive420 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2JYxcs4

#Blogger #Story

0 notes

themoneybuff-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Is your home a better investment than the stock market?

Shares 169 Ill admit it: There are times that I think everything that needs to be said about personal finance has been said already, that all of the information is out there just waiting for people to find it. The problem is solved. Perhaps this is technically true, but now and then as this morning Im reminded that teaching people about money is a never-ending process. There arent a lot of new topics to write about, thats true (this is something that even famous professional financial journalists grouse about in private), but there are tons of new people to reach, people who have never been exposed to these ideas. And, more importantly, theres a constant stream of new misinformation polluting the pool of smart advice. (Sometimes this misinformation is well-meaning; sometimes its not.) Heres an example. This morning, I read a piece at Slate by Felix Salmon called The Millionaires Mortgage. Salmons argument is simple: Paying off your house is saving for retirement. Now, I dont necessarily disagree with this basic premise. I too believe that money you pay toward your mortgage principle is, in effect, money youve saved, just as if youd put it in the bank or invested in a mutual fund. Many financial advisers say the same thing: Money you put toward debt reduction is the same as money youve invested. (Obviously, theyre not exactly the same but theyre close enough.) So, yes, paying off your home is saving for retirement. Or, more precisely, its building your net worth. But aside from a sound basic premise, the rest of Salmons article boils down to bullshit.

Lying with Statistics Looking past the paying off your house is saving for retirement subtitle on his piece (a subtitle that was likely added by an editor, not by Salmon), we get to his actual thesis: Making mortgage payments can, in theory, be a way to accumulate wealth almost as effectively as contributing to a retirement fund. Im glad Salmon qualified this statement with in theory and almost because this is pure unadulterated bullshit. And its dangerous bullshit. Heres how this logic works: If you buy an urban house today for $315,000 (the average price) and it appreciates at 8 percent a year for the next 15 years, you will be living in a $1 million house by the time you pay off your 15-year mortgage, and you will own it free and clear. Which is to say: Youll be a millionaire. For this to be true, heres what has to happen.: Home prices in your area have to appreciate at an average of eight percent not just this year and next year, but for fifteen years.You have to take out a 15-year mortgage instead of a 30-year mortgage.You need to stay in that house (or continue to own it) for that entire fifteen years.Once youve become a millionaire homeowner, you now have to tap that equity for it to be of use. To do that, you have to sell your home, acquire a reverse mortgage, or otherwise creatively access the value locked in your home. The real problem here, of course, are the assumptions about real estate returns. Salmon spouts huckster-level nonsense: The 8 percent appreciation rate is aggressive, but not entirely unrealistic: Its lower than the 8.3 percent appreciation rate from 2011 through 2017, and also lower than the 9 percent appreciation rate from 1996 to 2007. Thats right. Salmon cites stats from 1996 to 2007, then 2011 to 2017 and completely leaves out 2008 to 2010. WTF? This as if I ran a marathon and told you that I averaged four minutes per milebut I was only counting the miles during which I was running downhill! Or I told you that Get Rich Slowly earned $5000 per monthbut I was only giving you the numbers from April. Or I logged my alcohol consumption for thirty days and told you I averaged three drinks per weekbut left out how much I drank on weekends. This isnt how statistics work! You dont get to cherry pick the data. You cant just say, Homes in some markets appreciated 9% annually from 1996 to 2007, then 8.3% annually from 2011 to 2017. Therefor, your home should increase in value an average of eight percent per year. What about the gap years? What about the period before the (very short) 22 years youre citing? What makes you think that the boom times for housing are going to continue? Long-Term Home Price Appreciation In May, I shared a brief history of U.S. homeownership. To write that article, I spent hours reading research papers and sorting through data. One key piece of that post was the info on U.S. housing prices. Let me share that info again. For 25 years, Yale economics professor Robert Shiller has tracked U.S. home prices. He monitors current prices, yes, but hes also researched historical prices. Hes gathered all of this info into a spreadsheet, which he updates regularly and makes freely available on his website. This graph of Shillers data (through January 2016) shows how housing prices have changed over time:

Shillers index is inflation-adjusted and based on sale prices of existing homes (not new construction). It uses 1890 as an arbitrary benchmark, which is assigned a value of 100. (To me, 110 looks like baseline normal. Maybe 1890 was a down year?) As you can see, home prices bounced around until the mid 1910s, at which point they dropped sharply. This decline was due largely to new mass-production techniques, which lowered the cost of building a home. (For thirty years, you could order your home from Sears!) Prices didnt recover until the conclusion of World War II and the coming of the G.I. Bill. From the 1950s until the mid-1990s, home prices hovered around 110 on the Shiller scale. For the past twenty years, the U.S. housing market has been a wild ride. We experienced an enormous bubble (and its aftermath) during the late 2000s. It looks very much like were at the front end of another bubble today. As of December 2017, home prices were at about 170 on the Shiller scale. (Personally, I believe that once interest rates begin to rise again, home prices will decline.) Heres the reality of residential real estate: Generally speaking, home values increase at roughly the same (or slightly more) than inflation. Ive noted in the past that gold provides a long-term real return of roughly 1%, meaning that it outpaces inflation by 1% over periods measured in decades. For myself, thats the figure I use for home values too. Crunching the Numbers Because Im a dedicated blogger (or dumb), I spent an hour building this chart for you folks. I took the afore-mentioned housing data from Robert Shillers spreadsheet and combined it with the inflation-adjusted closing value of the Dow Jones Industrial Average for each year since 1921. (I got the stock-market data here.) If youd like, you can click the graph to see a larger version.

Let me explain what youre seeing. First, I normalized everything to 1921. That means I set home values in 1921 to 100 and I set the closing Dow Jones Industrial Average to 100. From there, everything moves as normal relative to those values.Second, Im not sure why but Excel stacked the graphs. (Im not spreadsheet savvy enough to fix this.) They should both start at 100 in 1921, but instead the stock market graph starts at 200. This doesnt really make much of a difference to my point, but it bugs me. There are a few places 1932, 1947 where the line for home values should actually overtake the line for the stock market, but you cant tell that with the stacked graph. As the chart shows, the stock market has vastly outperformed the housing market over the long term. Theres no contest. The blue housing portion of my chart is equivalent to the line in Shillers chart (from 1921 on, obviously). Now, having said that, there are some things that I can see in my spreadsheet numbers that dont show up in this graph. Because Felix Salmon at Slate is using a 15-year window for his argument, I calculated 15-year changes for both home prices and stock prices. Ill admit that the results surprised me. Generally speaking, the stock market does provide better returns than homeownership. However, in 30 of the 82 fifteen-year periods since 1921, housing provided better returns. (And in 14 of 67 thirty-year periods, housing was the winner.) I didnt expect that. In each of these cases, housing outperformed stocks after a market crash. During any 15-year period starting in 1926 and ending in 1939 (except 1932), for instance, housing was the better bet. Same with 1958 to 1973. In other words, if you were to buy only when the market is declining, housing is probably the best bet if youre making a lump-sum investment and not contributing right along. Another thing the numbers show is that youre much less likely to suffer long-term declines with housing than with the stock market. Sure, there are occasional periods where home prices will drop over fifteen or thirty years, but generally homes gradually grow in value over time. The bottom line? I think its perfectly fair to call your home an investment, but its more like a store of value than a way to grow your wealth. And its nothing like investing in the U.S. stock market. For more on this subject, see Michael Bluejays excellent articles: Long-term real estate appreciation in the U.S. and Buying a home is an investment. Final Thoughts Honestly, I probably would have ignored Salmons article if it werent for the attacks he makes on saving for retirement. Take a look at this: If youre the kind of person who can max out your 401(k) every year for 30 or 40 years straight disciplined, frugal, and apparently immune to misfortune then, well, congratulations on your great good luck, and I hope youre at least a little bit embarrassed at how much of a tax break youre getting compared to people who need government support much more than you do. Holy cats! Salmon has just equated the discipline and frugality that readers like you exhibit with good luck, and simultaneously argued that you should be embarrassed for preparing for your future. He wants you to feel guilty because youre being proactive to prepare for retirement. Instead of doing that, he wants you to buy into his bullshit millionaires mortgage plan. This crosses the line from marginal advice to outright stupidity. Theres an ongoing discussion in the Early Retirement community about whether or not you should include home equity when calculating how much youve saved for retirement. There are those who argue absolutely not, you should never consider home equity. (A few of these folks dont even include home equity when computing their net worth, but that fundamentally misses the point of what net worth is.) I come down on the other side. I think its fine good, even to include home equity when making retirement calculations. But when you do, you need to be aware that the money you have in your home is only accessible if you sell or use the home as collateral on a loan. Regardless, Ive never heard anyone in the community argue that you ought to use your home as your primary source of retirement saving instead of investing in mutual funds and/or rental rental properties. You know why? Because its a bad idea! Shares 169 https://www.getrichslowly.org/home-investment/

0 notes

samanthasroberts · 7 years ago

Text

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Id call it time traveling. Most of the time I didnt know I was doing it until I was already in too deep. It didnt matter the day of the week or the time, or who I was with. I was just as capable of bending time alone, as I was with a handful of friends.

There was no such thing as one or two or three drinks. Just like a two headed giraffe didnt exist, neither did grabbing a couple of drinks. Its that simple. I really cant explain it any other way. My average was a drink every fifteen minutes. I never thought about that. I didnt brag about it or work towards it or talk about it, my rhythm just happened. The drink was in my hand and I drank it. I didnt think of slowing down or having an empty hand.

Id start somewhere- at an apartment or at dinner or a happy hour or on a date and Id arm myself with whatever I was in the mood for. There were the regular players: Jack Daniels and diet coke, chardonnay, Redbull and vodka, Blue Moon and those few years in my early 20s where I thought the only two drinks on the planet was a Sex On The Beach and Cosmo. Drink menus were for amateurs.

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

For a long time the only shot I tossed back was Patron XO. Lemon drops and Kamikazes were too collegiate for me. I was smart enough to know that I always got sick after Whiskey. That was my kryptonite. It didnt stop me from drinking it again (and again), just in case getting sick was a one time thing. Spoiler alert: it wasnt.

So that was me, always, from the first time I got drunk during a party at 16 years old to my four day New Years Eve bender at age 30. But lets not call it a bender, or else my parents will worry. It was celebrating a new year with friends. It was a vacation and a belated birthday. It was me letting present, in the moment Diana take the wheel for a few days.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

It was all so normal and always OK: competing with friends how many guys we can make out with in one night (one of my favorite games), bouncing around speakeasys in the East Village, sneaking into the high end member only clubs in the Meatpacking District, 4am pancakes at a diner then going home with the cutest guy there, leaving without paying your tab, putting your drinks on a strangers tab, hooking up with your friends crush, sleeping with a guy who has a girlfriend (what, he had an accent, ok?), telling work you have a doctors appointment when you need an extra hour of sleep, telling work youre sick when youre too hungover to get out of bed, napping in the bathroom stall at work when you realize you went to work still drunk.

Theres wasnt a problem with any of this. I could go to six bars in a night and only remember two of them (seetime traveling). Others had different, less poetic names for it- like graying out or even more ominous, going black out. But lets not talk about that. Those words are scary.

It all just made so much sense to me. I had a desperate thirst for life, for new experiences and stories that were only mine and drinking was my very own special key to open that door. I dont remember being trained but I knew this truth: that I needed to drink- to have fun, to meet a guy, to de-stress, to celebrate, after a bad day, after a good day, when its more than 50 degrees out, when its under 15 degrees, because its Monday.

Its dramatic sounding, I know, but when I was drinking, like really in the middle of a good run, I was untouchable. My thoughts evened out and worries were left at the coat check. I was charming and funny. I was weightless and sexy. Nothing could ground me.

I wasnt stupid. I knew what was happening. There wasnt a river in Egypt. The biggest part was the after, when Morning Diana gradually and reluctantly pixelated back into place ready to droop down into the exorcist-like hangover.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

Sometime in my mid-twenties while I was gripping on to my spinning couch, I googled hangover and depression and was so relieved when I read the phrase emotional hangover. I immediately felt better seeing the feeling I felt printed on my screen. It was a relief: I wasnt alone in this feeling and it had a name. Urban Dictionary knows about it so it must be OK. Ill finish my bacon and chocolate milkshake and be just ducky.

The recovery time was always different- sometimes I could slide out of bed and be partially human the next day and other times I needed a day alone to stew in a mental playback of the night before. During those days the biggest challenge was the trek from my bedroom to couch. No matter how I recouped I never thought it was bad. I thought my friends were doing it too.

Country songs and Van Wilder confirmed for me that getting drunk and hangovers were a part of life. I never raised my hand to question it. So, about the men. I bet you thought it was hard to find a man with all this time zig zagging and space jumping but it wasnt. Lets go back ten years again and Ill tell you about all the threesomes I had. It was me, the guy, and alcohol.

It was how I flirted, played, connected, and bonded with men, always. If the boyfriend had a bad day wed start downing drinks in the hopes that hed open up and talk to me. To flirt with the new cute coworker Id suggest we play beer after work. Hed find it charming and cute and wed drunkenly made out in the corner of the bar after swapping 1st pet names and office gossip. I had a fling with a British banker off and on for 3 years and when wed meet late night hed pour us shots of tequila first. It was our thing. Our inside joke with Don Julio.We didnt know each others last names but we shared an appreciation for top shelf tequila at 3am before having sex. Im a romantic, I know.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

During each encounter, each date, I wouldnt feel satisfied until I heard those words. He could shout it or whisper it in my ear, either way I wanted those words. It meant: he liked me, hes having a good time, and he wanted to keep spending time with me. He didnt want the night to end. It meant intimacy, it meant hand holding and flirty eyes and of course, sex.

I could count the number of times I had sober sex on one hand. I didnt enjoy it. To avoid it, Id explain that I simply didnt like morning sex. Most of the time Id be too hungover to move from a fetal position so it wasnt pursued for long on his end anyway. Hooking up drunk was sexy and fun. We could let our inhibitions go and really connect. Fun was had by all. I wasnt worried about any of it.

Theres unfortunately worse parts. Im not going to tell them to you though. Mostly because my mother may read this. But also because I was once told that you dont need to go all the way to the bottom floor in order to get off the elevator. So lets baby step off the lift, shall we?

I was in one of my first sessions with my new therapist when she told me I repeated the word untouchable a lot and made me explain why I thought that was a good word. (See all of the above for my response). Valentines Day was two weeks away and I was mentally preparing to be single again during my least favorite holiday of the year.

I wasnt too worried though because Id participate in my friends annual BOVD- Black Out Valentines Day. The year before included colorful fish bowls and sushi till 2am. Problem solved. I was talking but realizing more and more how much she looked like Lily Tomlin when she put a piece paper down in front of me. It was a wordy contract with bullet points in the middle and a blank line next to my name at the bottom.

I was supposed to go a week without drinking. Thats a lie. I could drink. But only three glasses of beer or wine, two different nights. If I broke the contract I had to give $100 to her. Lily was crazy. How was this legal? I couldnt do this. Fact. I shouldnt have even been there. I wanted to deal with this but apparently not by actually dealing with it. I argued with her and left the session with the unsigned document squished to the bottom of my purse. That night I didnt sleep and express ordered Alan Carrs Easy Way to Control Alcohol. Problem solved. I went out drinking all week. And I drank like no one was watching.

Then I signed the contract. And then when week one ended, I signed the next contract. Was it easy? Fuck no. Did I have to write some checks to my therapist? Yes. Did I cry? Did I rant? Did my hands and mind twitch and turn during dinners with friends as I stared at my 1 drink for the night? Hell to the yes. Most nights all I could think about was my hand stammering under the table and how much I wanted and needed another drink.

I thought of the contract and Lilys annoying face staring down at me. I thought of how I felt when I was hungover. I thought of the fuzzy nights. I thought of the fuzzy years. I cried a lot. I stayed in and watched Netflix even more. I watched Vampire Diaries starting at season 1, many times. In therapy I compared my drunk self to being a vampire with no soul. There are many different points of view on vampire rule and regulations but most of them agree that the creatures of the night have no soul. Stick with me here. In Vampire Diaries the rule of thumb is that vampires can turn this soul switch off and on. When its on they feel everything, when its off they feel nothing and become untouchable. Follow me now? The easy way to live is to keep the switch off. I did that, over and over again. I was tired of it and wanted to be in the world of the living again. I didnt decide this overnight. It took months, a lot more episodes of Vampire Diaries and most of 2015. Something weird happened around the same time I switched to watching new episodes of Arrow that wouldve really pissed off my 23 year old Cosmo drinking self- I stopped enjoying drinking.

By November I was completely sober and joined a boxing ring. I could get up in the morning and exercise. I didnt need to sign a contract anymore. I sober dated. I sober celebrated friends birthdays. I sober had a fun Thursday night. I went to AA meetings sometimes and spent most of the meeting listening and nodding my head. I was funny and smart and friendly during the day and I was funny and smart and friendly at night. I added to my own life and stopped letting drinking take away from it. I started a social group. I started a book club. I started.

Sometime between the last crippling snow storm of last year and planning my 31st birthday, I stopped wanting to go to Edit Undo. I re-entered my own life. I went through those years and theyre a part of me for worse or worser. I went through it before knowing there was another side. I hit my rock bottoms (yes, there was more than one). Im still learning how to talk about it- what I want to say about it and to who. But the further I get from the person I was then, the more I like who Im turning into now. But letting go of her seemed like an impossible ask that the tiny tired voice deep inside me was begging for.

If I stopped drinking Id lose all of me, not just a part. I was terrified as if I was going to lose a limb or my hearing. My life would be filled withwhat? Id have no buoy or security blanket or man behind the curtain. Id be dry, unfilled, just curved edges and rims. The thought paralyzed me.

Now, Im at this other side. Im still learning what this other side is like and who I am in it. But I do know this- Im more now than I was before. Im more me and more strong and more present. I feel more and I listen to me more.

Days are now broken up between feeling this raw, strength of life and connection to people and namastes and really fantastic Im part of the universe and not from vibes to a total, giant uncertainty and instability, and anger and exhaustion. I never knew I could get tired of feelings. Weve moved in together, you see. We wake up together and go to bed together and they insist on forming an invisible fanny pack around my waist during the day. Hello intimacy, party of two. Theyre normally the big spoon. My thoughts continue from one moment to the next and connect without taking breaks. I had years and years of turning myself on and off and more off and now I just want to be on.

I wish I could say that when I wake up sober now, Im not depressed anymore or lonely, my friends became better friends, I became the perfect best friend, sister and daughter, and my love life came together Prince Charming Cinderella style. But becoming more sober didnt mean everything clicked into place, it just means I see the pieces more clearly and I dont hide from the messy parts.

So now whatdo I become resentful and guilty and depressed thinking about the years I spent avoiding intimacy and feelings and honesty and fuck, concrete memories? Do I think those years dont count? Do I blame my bad habits on the constant excess of New York City? Do I blame the alcoholic-like attributes that run in my blood line? Do I blame my friends? Or the work hard play hard Don Draper industry I work in? Do I blame shitty men boys?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Ive had men yell at me, not being able to grasp the idea of my moderated drinking habits, insisting that Im just pretending I dont drink because I wanted them to buy me drinks. I dont get it either. No means no guys. My friendships have changed, my god have my friendships changed. One friend who pre-games with a bottle of wine (a standard respectable approach I once followed), on multiple occasions, dumped her wine into my water when she realized I wasnt drunk like she was. Yeah, I dont spend time with her anymore.

I went sixty days without drinking before I decided to drink again. For me it was like breaking up with a boyfriend and then meeting up again two months later. Never a good idea. Youll never want to be just friends who catch every up every now and then. I drank Vueve Clicquot and it didnt make the night better but it didnt make it worse. I didnt gray out. I didnt break down. That night isnt fuzzy. I could wake up in the morning.

Theres been other times when I drank recently and couldnt move far from the couch. Those times are a quick, slap in the face of what not to do. But old feelings and doubts still come flooding back in. Will I always want another drink? Why cant I just stay sober? Why does everyone make it look so easy? Is my therapist actually Lily Tomlin?

Deep down I know the majority of my problems start and stop with alcohol. Drinking will always be a part of my life whether Im drinking or not. Itd be easier to figure out if I wasnt both the variable and constant in this little conundrum of mine.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

Im not 100% sober and I dont know if I ever will be. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, I could decide to sign up for a sober lifestyle again. But right now, I cant imagine midnight on New Years Eve without a champagne toast. I can do without five toasts but one still feels OK to me. So yeahmy relationship with drinking? We file it under Its complicated.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

0 notes

adambstingus · 7 years ago

Text

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/167431371812

0 notes

allofbeercom · 7 years ago

Text

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/13/getting-sober-redefining-my-longest-relationship/

0 notes

viralhottopics · 8 years ago

Text

Getting Sober: Redefining My Longest Relationship

Never red wine though. It stained my teeth and lips, Id explain when asked, and respond with my quirky I only drink it alone and in the dark answer. Theyd always laugh.

By the time YOLO was on T-shirts I had carpe diem booze down to a science.

When I was in college my hangover cure was strawberries and chocolate milk. After I received my diploma I graduated to well-done bacon, coffee, Mimosas. Water never entered the equation.

My favorite three words when I was with a guy were Want another round?

Yes, to all of the above. I point the finger at all of them and then back at me, and then at them and back at me. Lily says hi.

Today, I stare all the feels in the face, and make sure they know the last sixteen years matter but the last thirteen months matter even more. Im not her anymore, Im a different, more me now.

The good news is, Ive learned how to unwind on a Friday night without the trifecta of a bottle of wine, pizza and Netflix. My secret is just pizza and Netflix.