#its my second last week before college starts!! so im having some chill time this week

[thelittlebeekeeper]

oof I'm so excited for next week!! it's gonna be a real good one

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

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

pairing: lee jeno x reader

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

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

main masterlist // story masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

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

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

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

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

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

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

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

y/n: also ur literally never late 

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

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

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

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

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

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

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

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

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

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

[7:57 AM] 

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

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

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

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

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

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

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

“The Bachelor?”

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

“Ah. I see.”

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

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

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

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

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

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

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

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

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

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

"San Choi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming!” San yelled back.

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

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

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

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

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

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

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

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

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

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

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

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

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

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

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

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

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

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

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

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

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you left your keys."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

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

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

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

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

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

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

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

“Hand it over, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:36 PM]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, what happened?”

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

[mcwritingblog]

Immortal: Chapter 1

A Girl and Her Cat

Pairing: Javier Pena x reader

Summary: A small town barista meets a handsome Javi.

Rating: G

Author’s note: Hey guys I'm sorry this doesn't have a lot of Javier in it, its really a big set up chapter for the story.

Word count: 2k

1975, a random fall Tuesday 

I don't know how it even happened, or how I met him. At the time I was living in a small town in Columbia run by Americans, keeping to myself, not drawing any attention to myself. He walked into my cafe and got a small black coffee. He stayed a while, reading his small novel.  

“Hi there, stranger, I got your coffee”, you said as you set down his drink. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am. Thank you”

“No problem”, you went to turn away but you had to know, “Um, hey?”

“Yes?”

“You've come in before.  What's your name?”

“Javier”

“Javier. I'm y/n. Let me know if you need anything. Maybe next time you could try a latte”, he lets out a snort. You go back to cleaning. It was extremely slow today so you got the go-ahead from your boss to close up early. 

“Miss?”

You turned around and saw Javier leaning up against his truck with a smile. 

You grasp your chest. “You scared me. I didn't notice you there.”

“Were you about to walk home?”

“Yes”

“Would you mind a ride?”

“My apartment isn't that far from here, but thank you I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

And like that, you were walking home, enjoying the weather. It was chilly and the leaves were falling beside you everywhere. You didn't mind the ten-minute walk to your apartment. You don't even get in the door before your cat starts meowing at you. 

“Avery, give me one moment. I'll feed you I promise.”. You love the hell out of the black cat but the girl is so needy.

You flick off your shoes by the front door, bending down to pet Avery. You walked past her to shake some food into her bowl. With how she rushes to it, you'd think she never got fed. Silly girl. You walk over to the couch and lay out, grabbing the blanket to get comfortable, a few moments pass and your cat hops up to snuggle up to you. You flip on your tv to find something to have in the background and settle on Hawaii Five O. There's something about cops that attracts you so much. You find yourself falling asleep, Avery radiating heat on your stomach. 

---

You were woken up the next morning by your alarm clock; another day, another dollar. You were on second shift today so you didn't have to be in until 11. You got up and made yourself toast and eggs, making sure fatso had her food too. 

“Pretty girl”, you say scratching her chin and heading towards the door, adding an “I’ll be back later. Byeee”

The walk to the shop today was extra nice. You can smell the aroma of a pumpkin pie as you pass the houses in your neighborhood and hear the sounds of children playing outside. The giggles brought life to the quiet afternoon. As you come closer to the city, the more you hear the sounds of cars passing and smells of bread being baked at the bakery down the street. The bakers wave at you as you pass the front window. You hold up two fingers, gesturing back. Two shops down is Mrs. Rivera trying to hang up plants, struggling to steady herself, AND the hanging ivy pot.

“Here let me help you.”, you say as you come behind her and catch the pot, succeeding in hanging it up on her awning.

“Thank you, sweetheart!”, she says as she wipes her hands on her apron.

“No problem. I have to get going but come by for a latte?”, you ask.

“Yeah. I’ll see you” 

And with that, you were back to it. Half a block down and you come to the shop's front door. It dings as you enter.

“You're late”, your boss, Maria, gets on to you.

“Mrs. Rivera needed help again.”

“Uh-huh. Get your butt back there”, she snorts. She's not mad. Thank god.

“Been busy today?”You ask about taking off your backpack and hanging it up. The shop was basically vacant. The only customer you could see was a college kid studying in the corner. You walk around to pick up mugs and empty plates from various tables.

“Not really. The usuals mostly… Oh! A guy was asking about you! He asked if I knew if you got home safe?”, she asked, confused.

“Ah yes, Javier. He offered to take me home last night.”, you say while walking the dirty dishes to the back.

“He’s cute. You should get in there, girl”, she yells to you. “In there?”, you come around the corner and scoff, “I'm not that interested in dating right now.”

“You should. You can't just spend all your free time with your cat and nonexistent characters in your books.”

“Can.” You point out “And will” 

“You're only 24, do you really wanna throw away that opportunity?”

You could only muster up an eye roll.

----

The rest of the shift went off without a problem. Maria went home shortly after her talk with you. The next few hours included a couple of customers but mostly some cleaning. Mrs. Rivera actually came to see you, even getting a hot chocolate for her grandson when she got her latte. You hold a conversation with her for a while, talking about her daughter’s new job at the school. Maria said something about that a couple of weeks ago. The rest of the regulars got their usual drinks, only sticking around long enough for their drinks. The clock soon hits 7 pm.

“Another tea?”, you ask the college student in the corner. He’s been here for your whole shift and has gotten two hot green teas with sugar.

“No ma’am. I'm about to leave but I appreciate it.”

‘Alright. Don't be a stranger”, you say, taking his cup and saucer to the back to clean it off. You place it in the strainer to left it air dry. As you are in the back, the customer packed up and left, leaving the shop empty.

You walk past every table, wiping it down and stacking chairs on top, then grabbing the broom. You quite enjoy the quiet chill night, humming a simple tune. The night offers an array of noises through the open door: Grasshoppers chirping and the soft whistle of the breeze. You finish sweeping and put up the broom. “The tips were pretty good today”, you think, pushing the money into your pocket, removing your apron, locking up, and heading home.

----

You had Thursday off and planned to spend it accordingly. You slept until you couldn't anymore, got up, and fed Avery, offering extra pets to the needy cat. She snuggles up to you on the couch, laying in the space in front of your stomach. Your newest interest? Murder mysteries. So you are relaxing on the couch reading Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile. 

You get pretty far into the book before hearing a knock at your door. Weird. Then walk to unlatch the door, swinging it open.

“Uh... hello?”, you questioned the man in front of you. He’s standing there with his hand to the back of his neck, looking nervous

“Hi. Umm, I'm new to building. I live across the hall. I’m Anthony”, he reaches his hand out. You take his hand and shake it.

“Y/N”, you respond, smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

“Would you like to come in for some coffee? I just put on a fresh pot”, you invite.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”, his face sparks up in happiness. He takes your invitation and walks into your apartment, you close the door behind him.

‘Wow. Nice apartment. How long have you been living here?”

“Eh, a while”. Boy, you have NO idea.

He sits down at your dinner table and you bring over two coffee mugs.

“Cream? Sugar?”, you ask.

“Yes. Both please”, he responds and you hand him the containers of cream and sugar.

“Just moved here?”

“Yeah. From Arizona. The owner told me that you're one of the only Americans renting here. Thought I might come by and say hello.”

“Arizona, huh?”

“Yeah. I used to live in Georgia when I was a young girl but I’ve been around the world a lot. Been a while since I’ve been in the United States”, you drift off for a second but reel it in. “ Where in Arizona are you from?”

“Tucson. Wasn’t a bad place to live but I went to college for a major in the Spanish language. I wanted to visit places where I could hear the different dialects and see the different cultures. Thus, I am in Columbia.”

“Ah, you see I just wanted to see the world. I’ve been almost everywhere”

‘What was your favorite place to visit?”, he asks, fully focused on the conversation and not realizing Avery’s furry body rubbing against his shins. She meows. “Oh, well, hello there pretty girl. What’s your name?”. He reaches down to pet her back.

“That’s Avery. But back to your question, I was living in Greece for a while and I just adored the blue waters and sandy beaches.”

He takes a sip of his coffee and asks, “So what brought you here?”

“Need a change of scene. I had a friend who lived here but she passed away a couple of years ago”, you reply back nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh, im so sorry to hear that. Not too pry but we’re you close?”

“Yeah, We knew each other for a while.”

“How’d she die?”, he asks further

“Old age”, you let slip.

“Old age? he responds surprised.

“Uh... yeah. A family friend.”, you try to make up a better story to keep suspicion off of you.

That conversation kind of ended before it started, instead opting for a conversation about Anthony’s studies in places like Cuba and Spain. The talk circled around to different places you’ve visited, Rome being a topic that seemed to trail on and on. The sun outside seems to start to set.

“I’ve got to get going but it was nice to meet you, Y’N”

“You too, Anthony. Let me know if you need a cup of sugar or anything”, you say following him towards your door. He steps through and across the hallway to his front door. When he shuts his door, you follow suit. You turn around and you can feel Avery’s judging eyes on you.

“I know, I almost blew my cover”, you tell your feline friend. She meows.

-----

You weren't wrong when you told Anthony you’ve been living in Columbia for a while. The problem is his definition and your definition of “a while” were completely different. The truth is you lived in Columbia for 40 years and in this town for about 20. You didn’t age. The only person who could possibly know is Mrs. Rivera but she is very good at minding her own business. You were one of the only ones who came to her husband’s funeral a year ago. You’re practically family. The town’s oldest residents have passed and the owners of the apartments change every couple of years. The rent is paid in cash and the tenets come and go. Every couple of decades you move to another small town in another country. 

You lived a normal life but you didn’t know your parents. You lived in the orphanage until you were 18. It was then you took up a job, reading in your spare time, and traveling when you could. You didn’t even realize your immortality until you were 40 looking 20. And then 50 looking 20. You did try to date but soon came to realize that you’d outlive them, leaving a trail of broken hearts. You were pretty sure you were incapable of love. 80 years old and not prepared for what happened next.

Javier Pena was about to change your life.

[samingtonwilson]

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket” 

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese. 

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched. 

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy. 

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow. 

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this. 

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese. 

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make. 

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space. 

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket. 

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you. 

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”  

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey. 

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp. 

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet. 

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him. 

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile. 

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s. 

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure. 

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese. 

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.���

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones. 

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it. 

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.” 

“Who says I haven’t already?” 

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you. 

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.” 

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.” 

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer. 

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

[20rubixcubes]

enhypen as baristas

maknae line x gn!reader (comedy, fluff, mild angst)

~1.2k words ea (headcanons)

warnings: cursing

a/n: i just wrote this for funsies, please be mindful that there is heavy swearing in these headcanons (particularly in ni-ki’s part), so if that isn’t your taste, perhaps skip this one! other than that, the rest of this is pretty chill, so i hope you enjoy my shitposting. oh, and lmk if you like this enough to want part two with the hyung line 👀 just maybe i’ll do it

sunoo

was only recently employed as an afternoon shift employee and was both shocked and distressed after discovering the cafe didnt have an instagram

“what do you MEAN you dont have instagram??? how do we post selfies???” “sunoo we sell coffee” “NO ONE WANTS COFFEE JUNGWON THEY WANT CUTE BARISTAS”

starts an instagram for the cafe and takes aesthetic pictures of his latte art

his selfies get way more likes though

speaking of his latte art, he masters the skill like a week in and everyone else is incredibly jealous

their jealousy wears off when jungwon tells him that he has to start training the new apprentices

pretends he forgot how to do it for like a week but it hurts his pride so he begrudgingly agrees to train the apprentices instead

in his free time he can be found snapping pictures around the shop, eventually expanding to taking pictures of the others too

“sunghoon stop moving you look cute and i need to take a photo” “sunoo im holding hot milk” “does it look like i care beauty is pain sweetie”

other than that, he sometimes sits in the booths to snack on muffins and do his homework since he only comes in to the shop for about an hour during his school lunch break and on the weekends

you meet sunoo after applying for an apprenticeship, wanting to get a job before you finish high school and start college

seen as though jungwon looks like the boss, you approach him, nervous for your first shift

“i’m here for the apprenticeship program?” “oh yeah! one second!”

he trots off to the back room, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the cafe

“SUNOO GET OFF JAY YOU HAVE AN APPRENTICE TO TRAIN” “*gasp* YOU MADE ME SMUDGE HIS LIPSTICK I'M QUITTING” “NO YOURE NOT GET OUT THERE RIGHT NOW”

the yelling pauses before who you presume is sunoo stomps through the back room door, a scowl on his face

he spots you, groaning loudly “are you the apprentice?”

“yes” you say meekly, guilty for seeming to ruin his shift

he gestures you to follow him behind the counter, pulling an apron out from under the sink and shoving it to your chest

its clear that hes pissed, yanking his tools out from the cupboards as you tie your apron behind your back quietly

“have you made coffee before?” “only instant coffee” “oh fantastic”

he seems to be getting more irritated by the minute before he takes a deep breath and starts directing you around the machines

“to do the art, you angle the mug like this and draw with the milk, but it wont show until it reaches the top so dont go crazy”

as if its nothing, he demonstrates by drawing a perfect swan in the milk, setting the latte down and dusting his hands off

“wow… thats amazing” “i know right? no one here appreciates me enough” “they should! this is the best i’ve ever seen”

he grins at your compliment, nodding with satisfaction and sending a wave of relief over you as you notice he looks less angry with you now

“um… im sorry if i interrupted whatever you were doing before” “oh, that? i was just doing jay’s makeup” “you like makeup? me too! i’ve never seen a boy interested in it though, thats really cool” you smile genuinely at him as he blinks in surprise

“really? you think its cool?” “definitely!”

you watch the gears turn in his head before he smiles widely, seeming to have come to some kind of revelation as he nods

“i like you.”

your cheeks heat up immediately, but before you can say anything in return, he starts calling out for jungwon, leaning over the counter

“JUNGWOOON, CAN WE HAVE THIS ONE?”

“well thats up to them” he looks up from the table hes wiping down, adjusting his apron as he walks over to the counter

“so youre all finished with the course? i hope sunoo wasnt too much for you”

“i wasnt! anyways, youre employed, okay?” “sunoo stop theyre just an apprentice”

he groans loudly, irritated once more as he whips his head to you

“you have to work here, ok? i said so, so come back and apply or i’ll be mad!”

you laugh at his antics and smile “i’ll see what i can do”

after jungwon pries sunoo off of your arm, you return your apron and leave the shop with a wave

“YOU BETTER COME BACK!” is the last thing you hear as you step out onto the street, the bell ringing to signal your exit

a week later, you return to the shop, slightly anxious that your new friend(?) might have forgotten about you

but this is quickly washed away when you hear a high pitched squeal from the counter

“JUNGWON! HURRY THE FUCK UP AND GET THE FORMS THEYRE HERE”

you laugh as you approach the counter, a teasing tone on your voice

“are you supposed to be talking to your boss like that?” “whats he gonna do? fire me? im the only one who can make coffee in this place” “true”

soon enough, jungwon comes out of his hiding place, his hands clasped together

“im really sorry to ask this but please, you have to work here, sunoo hasnt shut up about you all week and i dont know if i can stand him anymore, i’ll even pay you extra please dear god”

you give sunoo a look, only receiving an innocent smile and puppy eyes back

“sure, i’ll take the job!”

jungwon sighs in relief as sunoo begins jumping up and down, yelling something about having his own little baby to take care around the shop as you groan, covering your blushing face

once you have your hours established (sunoo made you take the same as all of his, but you did the nights instead of the afternoons on the weekends, to his displeasure), you get straight to working

… well, sort of

it was hard to get work done with sunoo pestering you around the clock

“you think im cute right?” “yes sunoo” “even though i have bags under my eyes? “yes sunoo” “you promise?” “yes sunoo” “good”

admittedly he is slightly of help when it comes to the more fiddly parts of making coffee, but every other second of the day he seems to be flirting nonstop

“can i kiss you?” “no” “why not” “sunoo we’ve been over this” “BEING AT WORK ISNT A VALID EXCUSE”

worn down after his incessant yelling all day, you find yourself snapping faster than usual

“we’re not even dating, sunoo! why would i kiss you!? just stop playing with my feelings already!”

for the first time since you’ve known him, sunoo goes quiet

“why not?”

“what are you talking about now sunoo?” “why arent we dating”

now its your turn to go quiet

“do you not like me?” “what? no, sunoo-” before you can reason with him, you watch him quickly rush away from you around the counter, slamming the break room door behind him with tears in his eyes

cursing to yourself, you ensure there are no customers to serve before quickly darting after him

after looking around a bit, you hear sniffling from the supply closet and knock on the door quietly

“sunoo?” “leave me alone!”

you sigh, taking a step back and turning on your heel to face the opposite direction, running a hand through your hair as you think

you spot a dog bed at your feet, suddenly remembering that jake usually keeps his dog supplies covered in dog hair in the closet

“sunoo arent you allergic to dogs?”

“... *sniffle* y-yeah”

after you persuade him to come out by mentioning that his face is going to get all puffy, he steps out, eyes glued to the floor as he looks away from you in shame

placing a hand on his shoulder, you speak to him softly

“sunoo, look at me”

he does, hesitantly, his eyes red and watery and, as you said, puffy and inflamed

despite this, you smile

“i do like you back”

his eyes start watering again, your heart skipping a beat in fear that you had said something wrong

“e-even if my face is all puffy and gross?” his voice wobbles, the tears filling his eyes giving him a sense of vulnerability as you sigh

“yes, even if your face is all puffy and gross”

he smiles at that, shutting his eyes cutely as you press a kiss to his cheek

“and theres your kiss”

he whines “i was supposed to do that!”

“you can do it after we finish work, okay?” “WORK STILL ISNT A VALID EXCUSE…. but maybe today just because i need to ice my face” “yeah you really should, can you even see?” “no not at all” “great”

jungwon

the previous manager left suddenly and jungwon was given a semi-forced promotion as he was the only employee with at least half of a brain cell

poor boy is stressed 24/7

doesnt get paid enough for this

“hey jungwon we ran out out of coffee bea-” “I ORDERED NEW ONES FOUR HOURS AGO NOW SHUT UP IM TRYING TO MAKE SURE THE BOSS DOESNT FIND JAKE’S DOG SHELTER IN THE SUPPLY CLOSET”

goes through hell every day just to make sure the others dont burn the cafe down

is supposed to be on the morning shift but he stays until the afternoon

in his rare moments of downtime, he likes to go around and water the hanging plants around the shop

is that one vine where the mom listens to nicki minaj for the first time and screams “no” over and over whenever ni-ki gets control of the cafe music

“RIKI NISHIMURA WHAT IS THAT ON THE SPEAKERS” “ITS OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR ARIANA GRANDE” “TURN IT OFF THIS IS NOT PG13” “SHUT THE FUCK UP GRANDPA”

is only 16 but acts like a 32-year-old father going through a midlife crisis

lifts boxes of supplies all day yet his joints are famously brittle

“hey jungwon did you hear glass shattering too?” “sorry jay that was my back” “you need to invest in physical therapy” “maybe if i wasnt paying for property damage every other week 😊”

you meet jungwon when you drop into the cafe for a croissant and a coffee before your class starts

usually you come at night maybe an hour before closing so you had never seen him before, but here you were watching this cute but clearly stressed boy scramble around the shop carrying boxes of supplies to the back

trying not to be creepy, you sigh, turning back to your phone after watching him for a solid five minutes straight

as you do, you hear a crash coming from what you assume is the supply closet followed by a disgruntled groan

pausing, looking around at the other customers typing away at their laptops and waiting for another staff member to go check on the boy, you stand up as you discern that he must be the only one working and hesitantly go to see if he’s okay

“hello? are you okay?” you peer through the door, your eyes widening at the sight of him rubbing his head with a wince on his features, supplies strewn around him at his feet and a box knocked over beside him

“ah… um, yes, i’m okay, sorry if i disturbed you with that noise…” he smiles bashfully, pulling himself back onto his feet

“do you need help with all of that stuff?”

he opens his mouth to protest, not wanting to have to ask for help from a customer, but after seeing the amount of crap off of the shelves, he realises that there is no way in hell he’s going to be able to clean all of it up alone before his shift ends

“um… is that okay?” his cheeks flush with embarrassment as you smile

“sure!”

over the next couple of hours you two establish a little system of bagging the spilt supplies and passes them to eachother to put in boxes, chatting never ceasing as you discover that you actually have a lot of things in common

“since you work here, what’s your favourite kind of coffee?” “i like lattes… i cant stand bitter things” “me too! my friend drinks espressos though” “ditch them”

you also find out that he started being homeschooled after becoming the manager as he doesnt have time to attend normal school

the both of you find yourselves laughing nonstop, having fun in eachother’s company

so much so that you end up late for school

“oh shit! i completely missed my first class”

guilty for making you late, he offers to take you

“i can take you?” “you drive?” “well….. not exactly”

once sunoo and ni-ki arrive to care for the shop, he takes you out to the car park, pulling a spare helmet out of his backpack and securing it on your head before giving your head a pat as he gets onto his scooter

“you look cute” “i look like a bug” “a cute bug”

once you get to school, face red after having to hold onto him the entire time, you hop off and pass him the helmet with a shy smile

“thanks for driving me” you mutter, brushing off imaginary dirt from your shirt as you do your best to avoid eye contact, your face still flushed and heart racing

is it possible to develop a crush on someone this quickly???

jungwon is so cute that he makes it possible, you surmise

“of course” he mirrors your nervous smile, a blush finding its way to his own cheeks

as you bow and spin on your heel to start walking inside, he stops you

“wait!”

“what is it?” you turn to him, your heart still thundering against your ribcage at the fond expression he has plastered on his features

“actually… can i pick you up? after school?”

when you pause, your face growing hotter and hotter, he begins to sputter

“i-i’m really sorry, its fine if not! that was way too forward, i just really like you and- oh god that was even more forward- um-” “okay” “yeah i’m sorry that was a stupid questio- wait, what?”

before he can say anything else, your smile widens

“i’ll see you later, okay? don’t be late!” you wave, skipping into the building with a fluffy feeling in your chest

with an awkward wave, jungwon watches you leave, his mouth wide open in shock before a grin replaces his expression

getting back into his seat, the lovestruck smile never leaving his face as he drives off, he begins to count down the minutes until he gets to see you again

ni-ki

works the afternoon shift

technically an apprentice but he gets paid and has been there forever so basically an employee at this point

or he would be if he ever actually made coffee

he sits with the work phone all morning and chooses the music

perpetually dancing to 7 rings by ariana grande (look up his cover. youre welcome in advance)

jungwon and jay scream at him to at least do the mopping to which he complies, but not without performing a whole ass concert with it

once they saw him twirl and dip the mop

eventually they just told him to go back to curating the music because he was scaring customers away and they were losing business

he was horrible at cleaning anyway

“hey jungwon i think i got window cleaner in your plant” “im firing you” “i dont even go here” “STOP QUOTING MEAN GIRLS AND FIX THE DAMAGE YOUVE CAUSED”

you meet ni-ki while youre drinking your coffee at a booth and he plays your favourite obscure indie song so you have to compliment his taste and get to talking

he plays your favourite songs whenever youre in the shop and audibly hisses at anyone who tries to change it

makes choreography to said songs at home and tries to impress you by casually belting it out by your booth

when you compliment his dancing and ask how long hes been practicing that choreography hes all like “oh hahaha it was just casual freestyle super easy peasy”

(hes been practicing for two weeks)

thought he was being super obvious by doing these things but apparently nOT because you have not caught the hint at all and hes getting impatient

asks for advice from the others begrudgingly

“give them flowers” “jay thats so boring” “do you want to use one of my dogs? everyone loves dogs” “wtf jake since when have you had more than one dog” “make them latte art with a heart on it” “sunoo ive literally never made a coffee in my life” “why dont you just ask them out like a normal perso-” “shut the fuck up grandpa thats so weird no one does that”

eventually he settles on sunoo’s idea of making you latte art and he embarks on his journey to make his first coffee

rather than focusing on the actual taste, sunoo tells him to just do whatever so that he can show him how to do the art

“why is it green ni-ki” “you said to do whatever” “and your first idea was to make poison? idk if this is the best idea if youre trying to ask this person out” “shut up and pass me the milk”

burns his hands on the steaming milk jug at least fifteen times and ends up with so many bandaids on his fingers

despite how stiff the bandages are on his hands, he eventually manages to make a sort-of legible heart

“it looks like africa” “have you ever had steamed milk poured on your eyes sunoo?”

poor ni-ki waits for you all day, his heart leaping every time the bell on the door rings only to roll his eyes when it isnt you

he even stays past his shift so youd better let him take you on a date or hes quitting

when you finally arrive he trips over the bucket at his feet he was using to clean and spills dirty water all over his pants

“omg ni-ki are you okay what happened” *five octaves higher* “NOTHING I'M COMPLETELY FINE WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT”

by the time he’s finished cleaning himself up (and by that i mean fixing his hair in the mirror for twenty minutes) he takes a deep breath and walks over to you, somewhat cold latte in hand

“um,” he clears his throat, his face growing red as he slides the mug towards you “i made this for you”

“aw thanks ni-ki! why is it green” “........its matcha?”

youre slightly suspicious but you look back to the mug and slowly realise that the “drawing” slightly resembles a heart, smiling a little bit to yourself

when you look back to him, youre a little confused as to why hes just standing there

“is something wrong?” you press the mug to your lips, taking a sip

“o-uh uh actually, i wanted to ask if… if you would uh maybe sort of go on a date with me”

you can only smile

“yes, but…”

his heart starts beating faster, watching you anxiously

you stand up, taking the notepad and pen from his apron pocket and scribbling your phone number

“only if you promise to learn how to make actual coffee” you wink, handing him the notepad and sauntering out of the shop

hes stood there dumbstruck, stars in his eyes at the slip of paper in his hand

but then he realises: he has a new mission

rushing to the back room, he slams the door open

“grandpa, i need you to teach me how to make coffee right now” “literally why do i pay you”

with your promise in mind, the others see him work more diligently at the counter than they ever have before

“wow youre actually working today?” “shut up i need to figure out how to do this butterfly before i pry my eyes out with a fork” “haha funny joke ni-” “did i stutter”

at the end of the week, he forces heeseung (the cafe’s best coffee maker) and sunoo (the cafe’s best latte artist) to judge his latte

“this is… surprisingly good” heeseung peers into the mug, smiling at the swan ni-ki created with the latte foam as sunoo grumbles “dont tell me im gonna have to start competing with this kid, it probably tastes gross” “it tastes amazing too” “im quitting”

with his coworkers’ notes in mind, he finally works up the nerve to send you a quick message telling you to come into the shop

when you arrive the next day, ni-ki greets you and immediately gets to work, making sure to stand as close as humanly possible to your booth so he can show off his newly acquired coffee making skills

with you only inches away, he does make a mistake and spill milk on his shirt after looking at you and not his hands for a second too long, but you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt when he sets the mug in front of you

“wow! this heart is perfect!”

you smile, looking up to him “did you seriously learn how to do latte art just so you could take me on a date?” “… y-yeah, and?”

you can only chuckle as you press the mug to your lips, readying yourself to drink liquid dirt…

“this is… really good!” you grin, taking another sip and putting the mug down on its saucer

“i think you’ve definitely earned yourself a date… or two”

at this news, ni-ki’s face lights up, shoving the urge to scream down his throat before nodding stiffly to try and contain his excitement with a strained “cool” escaping his lips

“are you okay ni-ki?” “yes just give me one second”

he quickly scrambles to the break room, a moment of silence wafting through the store before a shrill scream fills the air

eyes wide, you turn to jay, who had been manning the till, after hearing him burst into laughter

“what is he doing?”

“we told him the freezer was sound proof”

[quirklessidiot]

aoba johsai’s sport’s journalist (h/c’s)

just crack+ fluff + platonic-ish relationship (gn!y/n) (w: language!) a/n: this has been bugging me for awhile now since i havent seen headcanons of this yet (if their are do send them on my ask box) and since im on a slump, i decided to write this down. this is completely fun, easy-going, and self-indulgent, really perfect for someone stuck on a slump ksks. idk if i should make some for the other schools but oh welp enjoy! happy 900 btw werkwerk uwu so weird to reach this when im not even very active.

Now let’s be honest here, it’s no surprise that the volleyball team of aoba johsai has their own sports journalist. Like, c’mon, they’re one of the best in the prefecture.

But let’s start with the basics here, shall we? Let’s start with you, how this all goes through, and how you got into this heaping pile of mess.

Yep, you.

There you were in high hopes to get into journalism for college so what better way was it than to apply for the school paper? It would definitely look good and pretty in those college applications *chef’s kiss* you’re a second year btw idk if that matters but yeah..

Much to your surprise no one was applying for the news section which was kind of sad since you wanted a buddy there.

but-but it turns out though everyone was applying for the sports section completely understandable, next to feature, it was the most exciting thing to write because there was going to be a special section and writer for the volleyball team.

You knew that volleyball was kind of a big thing around your school?? you just didn’t expect it to amass like that much people.

The editor in chief is obviously surprised, you were the first person on that day to come in there and actually apply for something else.

and guess where that led you to?

Yep, the sport’s section, specifically the volleyball team’s personal sports journalist. Your brain goes brrt brrt because you were not a sports writer at all and you were, ironically, scared of ball games.

VOLLEYBALL WAS COMPLETELY NEW TERRITORY FOR YOU.

Your editor in chief laughs it off and says, “you’ll do fine… its like news bUT SPORTS! IT’LL DEFINITELY LOOK GOOD IN YOUR APPLICATIONS!”

You’re not sure if you should be terrified or terrified?

It doesn’t help that on the first day when you enter the gym you look terribly constipated and panicking a lot because of all the stray balls being spiked and tossed around.

It also didn’t help that you crash course the terminologies and the member’s name a night before and you were just running on iced coffee that day.

Yeah, way to make a first impression, huh?

When you approach the coach, you’re not exactly sure what to say and you were this close to chickening out until you saw one of the players come up to you and ask if you were alright and if you wanted to talk to oikawa.

you’re loading for a second there.

and the poor guy who asks you if you were alright, starts looking actually worried because you weren’t responding at all.

“OH, oH IS THAT THE CAPTAIN?”

the guy literally looks very confused?? because what kind of rock were you living under that you didn’t know Oikawa???

so you go ahead and introduce yourself and say that your name was Y/N and you were the new sports journalist for the team.

“....soooo you write?”

“...”

at this point on, you’re also confused too

and idk man, first impressions do indeed last because you ended up (unknowingly) sharing the same brain cell with Matsukawa Issei.

you both were just confused there, straight up looking like two kids who got left behind by their mom in the grocery check-out line.

anyways...

He tells you the team’s pretty chill and you should stop looking like they spiked a ball on your puppy or something.

Basically introduces you to the whole team after, 

no questions asked, just go with the flow.

You basically just click and vibe???

Not only because you crash coursed and related to whatever they said, 

you literally all shared the same brain cell together.

Kentaro was another story though, kid basically hated your guts at first, it felt like if you were to say one sentence to him that day, he’d literally spike a ball at your direction.

“we’re basically the same year tho :(” -Y/N

“lmao well do i’ve got news for you, y/n-chan.” - Oikawa and basically everyone on the team.

you gradually start to understand the coolness of the sport since you had to incorporate visiting them once or twice a week during practice.

but suddenly it becomes almost a daily routine after a month because they’re just really friendly people??

like wow, they’re all friendly giants.

You’re literally just there to write about them but they’re really patient and kind, they even invite you to practice games so that you could practice out your skills in writing since you mentioned that you’ve never written for sports yet.

they even give you some added key terms that aren’t found in books and online.

you’re def closest to iwaizumi and matsukawa.

iwaizumi because he makes really funny fish jokes about oikawa (yes you arent supposed to be laughing but man theyre funny af, oikawa would usually call you and iwa corny because the jokes aren’t even that funny) and yes its canon that whenever iwaizumi sees an oikawa fish in textbooks, he starts laughing and joking about it.

no explanation needed why you ended up being close to matsukawa.

its obvious after that first meeting ya both would be besties.

same brain cell bros go brrt brrt.

incredibly!! supportive!! I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH

like when you release a new write up about them, Oikawa would usually go, “It’s such an honor to be apart of your first steps, can you sign this?”

dramatic but hella supportive, we stan the gr8 king

“oh, wow, i thought you said you didn’t write before? how come you sound like a professional already?” - Hanamaki 

another dramatic best boi.

akira + kindaichi getting shy because they’ve never experienced this yet. So whenever you try to interview them about stats or something for a special issue, they usually end up a stuttering mess

“w-well, L/N-san...”

kentaro slowly warming up to you but still looks like he wants to spike a volleyball at your face 90% of the time but unlike before you’re used to his whole thing already.

“Move, extra.”

“You were great, by the way. That was a powerful spike!”

you may or may not be included in random ramen nights with the team

yes, oikawa buys you your own bowl of ramen

itadakimasu.

he doesn’t mind tho, he really loves how you write them. 

so its sort of a thank you for giving the team justice when you write about them.

team says you’re technically part of the team so they make you your own jersey. Now when you watch your games people ask if you’re like the manager or smthng.

“ no :’) “

When they lost against shiratorizawa and karasuno, you were bawling too like you were apart of the team.

this pretty much cheered everyone up despite the loss because your crying face was apparently very funny and memable.

oh right, your article was passed on to the town’s newspaper

it was literally like 7 am on a saturday and your notifs went zoop.

they added you to their group chat and spammed you with pictures of the articles that you wrote.

“...wOW I CAN’T BELIEVE IT?? YOU GOT FRONT PAGE FOR SPORTS???” -Oikawa

“we didn’t even win the tournament but we still get a feature?? thats so cool?? holy shit?? CONGRATS KSKSKS” -matsukawa

lmao idk matsukawa looks like a keyboard smasher tbh idk why

pretty much its normal for you to even start hanging out already outside of the court and after practice to get steam buns.

more chaotic mess and clumsy you running around.

your volleyball sports writing experience wouldn’t be complete until someone accidentally spikes a ball at the back of your head amaright?

ironically, it’s yahaba who does that to you. poor smoll bean.

“wow, you’re dumb.” -kentaro says to you

“ :’)” -you.

“y/N-SAN I SWEAR IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.” -yahaba 

overall, you found yourself in a safe haven with the volleyball team and yes, you also cried when the third years graduated. 

the third years have a picture with everyone on the team + you with a very red face from all the crying?? once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a meme.

continued to write for them up until graduation.

and its def obvious you kept in touch with all of them after, duh.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

by your side vinny mauro x reader

+++++++++ Request from @young-hearts-world : "Hii, I was thinking about a little something about reader being an over thinker and maybe quarantine time wasn't the best to help with it and maybe Vinny, being the softy we all know he is, being there for them"

thank you so much for trusting me with your request it means a lot. and thank you @buryallyourbones for suggesting this to me. it was kind of relieving in a way so thank you both. i hope you like it.

Song: crazy by gnarls barkley covered by daniela andrade

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @theoneandonlykymberlee @joeybarber @ryansitkowskiswifey @thisplace-ishaunted +++++++++

i typed relentlessly on my computer trying to get a little ounce of homework done for the night. i had been overthinking again about classes as well as the job i had just lost. not only that but my mind was racing with the relentlessness that would be my bills coming in the mail. it was making everything harder and i wished i could be one of those facebook people that made art for fun or just did stuff cause they had time now. oh how were they not filled with the existential dread of being home for so long? i was practically going mad. i think vinny was even beginning to think id lost it.

i sighed heavily, closing my eyes and dropping my head against the back of the couch. i sat in silence for a second, vin scrolling down his phone next to me with his headphones in. i breathed deeply before looking back down at my computer in my lap. i had about twelve tabs open, each one holding something different. about half of them were utilities i knew would be paid late, the other half being the homework i so desperately needed to finish and turn in. i clicked through each of them before closing them one by one. vinny shifted next to me, drawing my attention. he looked at me like id caught him doing something bad and pulled a earbud out.

"everything okay?"

he asked lightheartedly. i shrugged before slapping my laptop shut and pushing onto the couch between us. he raised a brow.

"would a kiss make it better?"

he asked in a baby voice, leaning over and fake pouting at me. normally i would laugh and play back but i really wasnt in the mood.

"no."

i said nonchalantly and he frowned.

"why not?"

he asked a little hurt, leaning closer.

"just dont, im not in the mood right now."

i said sternly, making him draw his brows together.

"come on babe."

he said, resting his head back on the couch next to mine. i sent him an annoyed look.

"i said no vin."

i looked ahead of us at the blank tv, the black screen staring back at me. i felt the couch shift and when i looked over at him we were nose to nose. i blinked at him slowly. he knew he was getting on my last nerve.

"will you just get out of my face?"

I said angrily at Vinny, standing off the couch quickly, leaving him there by himself. i rolled my eyes at him before stepping over his legs and stomping into the kitchen. i sighed as I leaned into the counter. I looked up and rolled my eyes again as he came in through the doorway after me.

"Whats the deal?"

He asked, brow raised. I rubbed my face with my hands, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"I'm sorry I guess I'm just agitated. We can't leave, we don't know what's going on and my anxiety is through the roof. not to mention without work i have no money for bills and my college professors have ridiculous standards."

I dropped my hand and sent him a sorrowful look.

"I'm just tired. Of all of it."

He held his hand out as he walked to me, taking both my hands in his.

"Look, I know you get in your own head sometimes but maybe this is the best time for us to just chill."

my eyes got wide, clearly he wasnt a mind reader.

"how am i supposed to chill when i have so much to do?!"

he shook his head at me.

"surely you have some free time, maybe weekends? i know your class schedule cant be that busy even with the homework."

i wiggled my hand out of his placed it gently against my face again and just held it there, thinking.

"i dont know, its so hard to focus on anything right now. like i know ill get through this, i always do but its so hard."

he took my hand away from my face and intertwined our fingers.

"just think, you take at least friday night and saturday off and You can finally get to all those other things that youve been meaning to get to. like that painting you started before all this happened. its so pretty, id love to finally see it finished."

he gushed. I looked down and half frowned.

"How can I relax when I know there's all this bullshit going on outside? The thought alone has been making it hard to sleep at night."

He let go of my hands and wrapped his arms loosely around my waist.

"I know baby, I do sleep next to you after all. It makes me feel bad when I fall asleep and you're still awake, staring at the ceiling until all hours of the night."

i looked up at him amused as he cracked a small smile.

"we can get through this together. ill help you keep your schedule, help with your homework if you need, and sit with you while you do things that you love. and if need be i will make dinner every night of the week just so you have an excuse to stop what you are doing and focus on your health for even an hour."

i smiled back at him before leaning in a kissing him softly.

"thank you vin, i dont know what i would do without you."

he side nodded.

"probably freaking out."

we both laughed.

"oh im still doing that, you just make it a little more tame."

i said pushing some of his hair behind his ear.

"sometimes its better to just trust the system."

i nodded.

"i think youre right."

he squeezed me tighter, bringing me in for a hug and swaying back and forth.

"i love you baby."

he said softly into my ear as we danced to a music-less house.

"i love you too vin, and thanks."

[pbandjesse]

I did not sleep well last night and I was worried it would make today bad but honestly I had another really awesome day. I am so sad that tomorrow is the last day Ill be there until the summer. But also like. It feels good to feel so good at work again. 

But like I said. Sleep was bad last night. My back hurt really bad and I tried everything I know. Stretching, laying in the studio, laying on the couch. I just could not feel comfortable and I was super upset. I eventually fell asleep but it was way closer to 2am than I expected. 

So when my alarm went off I was very. Unhappy. But I got up and got dressed and honestly I felt good. Or at least good enough. James was kind enough to put air in the car tires so i wouldnt have to worry about it. And I was able to leave a little later today and still get to work before anyone else. 

I had a lovely day. It was cool but much less windy and I was much more comfortable. And it was really a great time. I got all the art supplies together, and put that all in the cabins. The kids got there pretty quick and we went up to the cabin before we headed to do some rope things. I am really lucky because this group is just so chill and kind. They have made this week such a great time and I just feel really lucky. They are just all so nice. 

When we got to the cabin we had a few minutes so we played a name game and they did a good job. They really "buy in" to the who hokey camp thing and it makes things so much nicer and more fun. And when we did the rope element they all worked so well together to encourage eachother. Just such excellent kids. 

We made an obstacle course for their field time. I tidied up the sports shed while the kids got the course ready. I had a lot of fun cleaning that up and when the kids ran their course I timed them and the best time was 38 seconds. It was so fun. 

We did lunch and I have to repack my food because I felt sick eating what I packed. I will go figure that out after I finish this up. When the kids were done with lunch I set up art supplies and they made paper collages. They love the idea of doing community projects together so they made a collage as a group. And the ones who wanted to do something else collected large sticks for our shelter building project tomorrow. Its supposed to rain tomorrow so we wanted to get all the wood on the porch so it wouldnt be wet and we could potentially use it for a camp fire. 

At some point we ended up talking about art school. And they had so many questions and we started talking about what critique does and how you can lead a conversation to get the info that is helpful. And that lead to talking about contemporary art and sculpture and my feels about museums and labels and it was so cute because they were asking great questions and responding so well. I honestly talked at them for almost a half hour. It was ridiculous and now they just want me to tell them "art stories" all the time. 

I also told them that a few years ago at MCAD camp the kids would play a game where they would just ask me to tell them about a topic and I would think of any of the fun facts I have in my mind on any thing they want to know about. So now thats going to be a thing Im sure. So far they have asked about chips and ships. They think it very funny that I have had so many different jobs and done so many different things. It is a very nice ego boost honestly. 

Me and Erin let them play in the gaga ball pit for a while. We just laid in the grass and talked for a while. I ended up explaining the entire bronze casting process to her. We talked about art school and games and just college in general. Shes really cool. Im glad we got paired up this week. She had some fun team building games for them to play, like a human knot and this funny one where they all stand on a tarp and have to figure out how to flip the tarp without stepping off of it. So that was very silly. 

We ended the day with rock climbing. I had them play a quiet game while they waited. And told them stories of my bike crash and working on the boats. I really like this group of kids. They told me today they hope they can be a group this summer and I really hope that can happen for them because they are all so sweet together. Honestly Im being spoiled with them. Excellent children. 

But I was still glad to be done at the end of the day. I got them all to pick up after snack. And then cleaned up before going to the office. 

There was some stress at the end of the day when we realized a visitor had done a hit and run on one of the staff's cars. So that was a whole upsetting thing. I hope it can be worked out. But it was time for me to go home. 

The drive felt long but it wasnt bad. I got home at 530 and was just really happy to be here. 

James was making me pasta because they are great. I was not feeling so great though. My sinuses hurt and my body ached. James held me on the couch for a little while. We had dinner. And I played a few minutes of animal crossing. But I was just tired so Ive been laying in bed since then. I think now I am just going to shower and get in bed. I really really hope I can just sleep tonight. Because tomorrow will be a lot. Because its going to storm. And Im leading the art programs. And like. Its gonna be fine. But also the rain makes me sleepy. So wish me luck. 

Also just as a final note. Today is 10 years since I made this blog. So thats exciting! Im not going to make a big to do about it because the actual day to day posts didnt start until August. So its exciting but mostly just a footnote. 

But now is time for sleep. Goodnight everyone. 

[comicsnas]

showtime

WARNING: eye gore!!, violence Disclaimer: this is..... an au where guy fieri isnt a cool and chill dude that just likes food. i am very sorry for what i do to him in this. i dont mean it and if the cops knock at my door i will blame it on hussie word count: about 3.7k. i am so sorry

context john gets kidnapped by his mom dave doesnt panic

Los Angeles, CA, Wednesday

“No matter what happens, nobody cancels the premiere,” you say. “Okay? No matter what’s in the news. No matter how bad it gets. The movie drops on Thursday, and people are gonna watch it. Got it? This is a scare tactic and we’re not falling for it. Even if the world is ending, we are premiering this movie and going through with the promo. With or without me.”

Catalena, your manager, has been with you for too long to think that you’re joking. She was who flew you in from Houston to LA back when you were twenty, who let you sleep on your couch until you made enough money to get an apartment, who thought that the message you had for the world was one worthy of her help. She knows that all of this is real, and that she can’t stop you.

Her face says, Dave, you’re scaring me. Her mouth says, “You got it. Could you at least tell me… what you think is going to be in the news that would make us not premiere it?”

“Something bad,” you say. “Hopefully, anyway.”

She tilts her head. “Are you faking your death?”

“Lalonde and I are gonna disappear for a sec,” you say. “How people interpret that is gonna be up to them.”

“Not like you to leave things up to chance,” Catalena says. “Some will think it’s elaborate PR.”

“That’s why I’m only telling you. Lalonde and I are gonna frame this to look serious, and no one else is gonna know what’s going on. You keep your cool, but don’t let anyone know that you’re in on it.”

“I mean, I barely am.” She gives you a Look, a capital L Look, then sighs and nods. “Fine. So if I hear about your presumed death tomorrow, I won’t freak out. At what point am I allowed to assume you are actually dead, and freak out a little bit?”

“If you don’t hear from me in a week,” you say, “then Lalonde and I have been killed by Betty Crocker.”

Houston, TX, twelve years ago

You’re blind.

That’s not true. You’re not blind. You don’t think you are going to be blind. There is no way that you’re fully blind, because the assassin only got your right eye, so it doesn’t make sense for you to be blind, but you’re blind.

The pain might originate from your right eye, but it’s engulfing your entire head by now, and there is something sticky in your left eye and you can’t open it anymore and it burns, and you’re going to go blind, and then you’re going to die in a ditch, in a pool of your own blood, and this is it. It’s over. You and your half sister fucked around on the internet a bunch, got really deep into some conspiracy theories, and barely two weeks after you made the discovery that Betty Crocker definitely, undoubtedly, literally is an actual alien, someone was sent to kill you.

They didn’t manage, so far. They got your eye, and they broke your glasses, leaving a cut on your nose, and a bunch of cuts everywhere else, and you think you cracked your head open when you fell. But you cut their knife hand off, good and clean off, watched it fall to the ground right in front of you. By the time it hit the pavement, the assassin had already turned around and ran away, leaving you to crumple and suffer here by yourself.

This is it.

“Strider?” Rose says. Before the blood trickling into your good eye ruined your vision, you managed to dial her number and call her up, and now you’re lying on your side with your phone pressed to your ear, imagining her in her college dorm room in New York. You were going to visit her there, years ago, after you ran away from your parents. It never worked out. Neither of you has the money. You really wish you could have seen her at least once.

“Yeah,” you croak. “You at home?”

“At the dorm, yes. What’s going on?”

“You gotta go. She sent someone after me, she’s gonna come for you too. If she knows that I know, she’ll know that you know.”

One of the most comfortable parts of friendship with Rose, you’ve found, is that she never asks you to clarify what the fuck you’re talking about. Either she just lets you ramble, or she knows exactly what you mean. “Shit,” she hisses, and you can hear rustling on her side of the line, hopefully from her getting ready. She probably has a getaway bag somewhere, you think. You have one, but not on you right now. It’s too late for that.

“They’ve already hit me, so whoever she sent to you can’t be far,” you say. You try to blink your eye open, but then it hurts the other more, and it burns. You can’t even tell where exactly. It just burns. “Hurry up, Lalonde.”

“They’ve hit you?” she echoes, still rustling, breathing into the phone. On the move. Good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say. “Gonna call an ambulance after this. Just get the fuck out and text me later, yeah?”

Rose pauses. You can hear her pause, you can hear everything go very silent for a second. She says, “You called me before you called for help?”

“Yeah,” you say. She told you, once, that there is a quick and easy way out the window of her second-storey dorm room, that lets her balance over to her girlfriend’s room only a few windows ahead. She can’t hide there, it’s too close, but it’s a start. She’ll figure it out, she always will. She was the first person to ever have your back. “Of course I did.”

On a plane, Thursday morning

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asks.

You’re leaned back, staring out the window, listening to the clicking of her knitting needles next to you. The pilot here doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, just that he is flying two rich people and their car to Washington, DC. Your Mustang is in the cargo part of the plane, a vital part of the plan. You’ll torch it later. It was the first car you bought with your own money, after SBaHJ had become big and you had finally paid off your hospital debt.

Rose’s apartment isn’t that old, she got it after Roxy was born and she decided to move to Los Angeles, so you could help each other babysit. Trashing it still felt wrong. A home is a home, but you wanted it to look broken into, to make sure that people put two and two together. This isn’t a Dave Strider marketing scheme, you both got hit. After all the work that you’ve done, at least some of the public should understand what that means.

“Us,” you say.

“That’s very sentimental,” she says. “Are you sure you aren’t mourning your car again?”

“Shut up,” you say, and blindly swat at her, hitting her elbow. She hits you back, hand slapping your shoulder. “It’s a good car.”

Rose hums. When you look at her, she’s already back to knitting. You have no idea what she’s making, but it looks like a onesie for an octopus. “We will be fine,” she says. “We have to.”

You nod, and go back to staring out the window, thinking about what Alma said. “It’s just,” you say quietly. “We gotta start thinking about the endgame, here, don’t we.”

“Start?” Rose echoes. “Dave, we know the endgame to this. We’ve known for a while. The second you landed in the hospital with a cut inside your eyeball, you and I both knew that this would end in death.”

You don’t say anything. She’s right, of course she is. You knew then, and she knew, as soon as you texted her from your hospital bed, and she texted you back from a Greyhound bus. And you tried to forget, you both did, for a very long time. You almost managed, for a whole decade, until last year, someone made you scared and angry enough to ram a sword through his throat. Until Rose came and disassembled the body on your rooftop, and then helped you burn it. Reality has caught up with you, and someone is going to die.

The clicking of her needles has stopped again. You turn your head to look at her, and she’s looking back at you, and her face seems younger than it should be. She is just as scared as you are. Neither of you ever wanted it to go this far. Neither of you wanted to kill.

“I don’t like it either,” Rose says. “But someone is going to wind up dead, and it sure as shit isn’t gonna be us.”

Washington, DC, now

)(IC: u comin or what TG: yeah about that

You’re on the hood of your car. The children -- and Sally, John’s pet hedgehog -- are with the one sitter you still trust. Rose is in position, which means she is at a remote location outside the city holding Guy Fieri hostage. She has sent you a picture of him tied to a chair and gagged, which means that it’s go time.

All according to plan.

TG: how about you come kill me somewhere else instead of home sweet home )(IC: why would i do that TG: dying mans last request? )(IC: stfu lol this is so obviously a trap TG: wow ok so is yours )(IC: fair TG: just thought that you know TG: john means something to both of us and dont try to tell me no because i know he does TG: so like can we maybe duke it out somewhere where i wont accidentally blow him to smithereens TG: innuendo intended )(IC: UG)( )(IC: gross TG: lmao TG: anyway bethany you know me and you know im comin with c4 in my backpack if im comin TG: do you really want that around your son or can you just get off your ass and meet me here so john stays safe )(IC: u reely think ya have a fighting chance to even get that far )(IC: buoy you set one foot in my house and ya get spearfished TG: yeah not really making a great point for me to come there rn TG: just thought maybe youd wanna be with your guy guy )(IC: who TG: you know TG: guy the guy )(IC: tf

You text her the picture that Rose sent, just Guy Fieri looking miserable, no indication of whether or not you or Rose are with him.

)(IC: )(-EY )(IC: motherglubber what do u think yoar doin TG: yoar??? TG: thats literally not a word. wym you oar?? what TG: anyway im gonna dismember this asshole if you dont agree to keep john safe and come here and im gonna start with the frosted tips )(IC: FIN--E )(IC: cant effin wait to be done with you )(IC: ill come krill ya if its so shrimportant just gimme the location TG: ok shrimportant is actually pretty funny TG: [coordinates] TG: see you soon

She drives a fuchsia Jaguar that looks like Xzibit threw up all over it, because of course she does. You watch it leave from your perch on your Mustang, then slide off the hood. shes gone, you text Rose. get ready to bounce

Before you leave, you turn back toward you car, and gently pat the roof. “See you soon,” you repeat, “for one last ride.”

Look, it’s a good car, alright.

Later on in the plan, once you’ve convinced John to come with you, and Rose has joined you in the no doubt brutal course out of the house littered with security guards, the three of you will pack into this car, and you will drive. You will be tailed, you know you will. Rose and you estimate two to three SUVs with more security personnel that will follow you, and sooner or later, you won’t stand a chance against them.

So, you’ll call the cops. You don’t usually do this -- even during all these years, neither you nor Crocker ever called the police on each other, and technically, you still won’t, today. You will just anonymously call authorities, and tell them about a burning car by the side of the road. Then you will hang up, and you and Rose and John will hop out of a moving vehicle as you crash your beloved Mustang and have it go up in flames. Authorities will come and find Dave Strider’s infamous car, and hopefully that’ll get people talking.

Crocker’s guys will hopefully exit their cars and go looking for you, or at least for John. It’s an easy con from there -- while they look, you will steal their SUVs and drive off toward your safehouses. Simple. No sweat.

“This better work,” you mutter to yourself, then leave your car behind and start climbing the fence around Crocker manor.

You’ve been here once before, while she was out and John was showing you around. You weren’t actively trying to case the place back then, just spending time with your boyfriend and checking out where he grew up, but you couldn’t help how curious you were. You still remember the most important spots, and you did your best to paint a proper picture of them to Rose (you drew a map in MS Paint), so now you have a pretty good idea of where you need to go.

The guard posts, of course, are randomized. You’ll have to take these as they come, and you feel prepared enough, with just your sword and a handful of knives. You’re wearing the kevlar you wore to the Oscars. You’re gonna be fine.

It’s a race against time now, knowing that there is no guarantee when Crocker will be catching on and returning to her house, and knowing that you stand no chance actually fighting her face to face. You climbed in toward the side of the house, because it’s the shortest distance between fence and wall. The front and back yards are ridiculously huge and opulent, and while you would have plenty of gaudy statues to hide behind, you’re not looking to make your way through there.

The first guard spots you right as you hop down off the fence, and your knife is in his shoulder before he even finishes drawing his gun on you. He’s also wearing a vest, but those don’t stop blades, and you take offense in knowing that she made them dress up like that. As if either you or Rose were going to show up with guns. She really doesn’t know you at all. You knock out the guard with a hit of the knife grip against his temple. Maybe you can get through this without deaths.

One of them you comfortably take out from behind a useless fountain placed in this part of the garden for some reason, appreciating how quiet and low-key you can be about it so far. The bigger the ruckus, the sooner she’ll return, so having them all go down in silence is your best case scenario.

It’s the third guard that ruins your track record. You’re almost at the house wall, and you know you’re under the right window, which means all you have to do is scale it and climb right into John’s room, but for that to work you need to have a clean path behind you. Which you don’t, you realize the second a bullet hits your back.

Your vest catches it, but the momentum still knocks you down, and you scrape both of your palms open on the weird break between lawn and pavement. You hate this fucking garden. Who lives like this? You’re gasping for breath and trying not to inhale any grass, dealing with the reality that this is the first time someone has shot at you and actually hit you, and the bullet might not have penetrated skin at all, but Jesus Fucking Christ it still feels awful. Like someone kicked you in the spine, only with a bullet instead of a foot.

Onward. You hear footsteps behind you, and now it’s your turn to kick, hitting them in the face with your boot in the same motion that you’re pushing yourself up from the ground. As they curse and stumble, you draw your sword, but they catch their footing quickly, and you know you only have a split second to act. That gun is pointing at you, again, or still, and they’re going for your head this time, and if you don’t fight now, the journey ends for you here. Someone is going to die, and it sure as shit can’t be you. Your arm darts forward.

The sword goes through their vest, their ribs, and their heart -- you wouldn’t call it smoothly, you really wouldn’t. You can feel resistance with every inch, you feel it right up to your shoulder, and you hate it, and it makes you want to throw up, but you can’t, now. You shove them off your blade and watch them crumple to the ground, and turn right back toward the wall. They are not getting up again. That’s on you, and you can deal with that later. You have to get moving.

Your phone vibrates.

You manage to pull yourself up on a balcony and crouch there, hiding from whatever is going on in the yard now. Other guards must have heard the shot being fired, so you really need to get the fuck out of sight, but this has to do, for now. If Crocker is messaging you, you have to respond, so she doesn’t think you’re in her goddamn garden.

)(IC: yo )(IC: send me proof yoar still with him )(IC: almost there this betta be worth it TG: one sec

As expected. All according to plan, so far. You hope the blood on your sword won’t make the sheath sticky. You’ll have to clean it, later. You don’t want to.

TG: shes asking for proof TG: go ahead. sorry TT: No worries. TT: I know we don’t endorse violence, but honestly, Dawon, after being in a room with him for this long, I am quite happy to do this.

She sends you a picture, and you grimace at your phone. It takes a lot to make you grimace, as a Strider born and raised -- at the same time, you’re not easily shocked or grossed out, but this isn’t great to look at. Fieri’s eye has been pulled from its socket, dangling down his cheek suspended from the nerve, a hole in the eyeball. You hope Crocker won’t be able to tell that this was done with a knitting needle, and forward the photo to her.

TG: hows this )(IC: )(--EY FUCK OFF )(IC: stop i reely like guy 38( TG: yeah well i really like john TG: eye for an eye TG: hurry it up im waiting and theres a second eye to gauge out )(IC: ten minutes )(IC: ur gonna be so sorry buoy

TG: 10 mins TT: On my way.

Okay. Crocker is on her way to a location where there will only be Guy Fieri and a set of elaborate boobytraps which you know won’t kill her, but hopefully slow her down. Rose is on her way here, to help you and John get out of here. That’s plenty of time you still have. Things are going suspiciously well, you think, before you remember the ache in your back and the fact that you killed someone.

You have to get to John.

He’s another two floors up, but you are right in front of a balcony door. For a second, you wonder if you could get into the house from here and do the rest from inside, so you don’t present yourself to the mob of people with guns in the garden. Unfortunately, before you can do that, another person with a gun appears on the other side of that door, mouths an angry what the fuck at you, and draws an assault rifle. Alright, well.

The thing that has mostly kept you from becoming too violent in the past is the fact that you’re fast, and you’re a great climber, so when you hop backward onto the banister of the balcony and pull yourself up to the next one above you, it happens so fast that nobody in the garden reacts. It’s after you’re already crouching behind the balcony, thankfully made of robust concrete, that the shots start hitting it. You do nothing, count the bullets, wait for them to get rid of half of their magazines down there. Then you pull a knife, peek over the balcony, and throw it right into someone’s bicep.

More shots. More ducking and counting. You have two more knives to throw, and you do, rinse and repeat. The people down there are very angry with you now, and very much still able to shoot, but you figure at least their aim will be off, and they’ll be slower. You hope. You haven’t held a gun yourself in fucking forever.

You take a breath, and jump up to grab the balcony you know belongs to John.

As soon as you’re in the open, another bullet hits your back, further toward your side this time, and you almost let go. You let out an undignified noise instead, and hold on harder, focusing all you have into your arms to pull yourself up. Shots are ringing in your ears, and one hits the concrete right next to your head at almost the same time that another one grazes your leg. You hiss in pain, grunt in exertion, pull, pull, and roll yourself onto John’s balcony.

Someone in the garden yells, “Motherfucker!”

You sit, curled up, and pull apart the tear in your pants with your aching fingers to check the wound. It’s not deep, certainly not as bad as the chunk of missing flesh you have in your arm from being shot at last year. It’s fine. You’ll forget about it in a second, when your newest problem will be telling your amnesiac boyfriend that he needs to come with you.

You pull yourself up into a crouch, not more. You don’t want to risk getting shot in the head as you finally face him, so you just do it like this. Hunkered down, disheveled and bloody, you lean forward and knock on John’s window.

[valleyofearthsbeginning]

The Only Home  She Knew: Ch. 1 Almost Mrs. Merlotte

Delia Reynolds has been missing for 10 years.  Now she finds herself coming back home a little different but the only thing that has stayed the same is the town of Bon Temps and her love for Sam Merlotte. Does Sam still love her after all these years? Can he forgive her?

_______________________________________________________________________

It was like nothing had changed, in ten years nothing had changed. Bon Temps was just as bland and dull as it was when she left it.  The wind stirred against the willows, bringing up the smell of rancid swamp water and whatever animal was dying close by. It burned her nostrils given that her sense of smell was in overdrive. She was close to a restaurant of some kind; the odor of meat grilling was at least a mile away.  It was dark, the kind of dark that seemed to never end in the south.

It was the kind of dark that could send chills down your spine, whether you were human or not. The only glimpse of light was the little flickers from the fireflies buzzing around, the aura of the restaurant ahead, and the moon.  She decided to run ahead.

‘ Merlotte’s ’, she read.  Her face lit up brighter than the moon above her. She knew once she opened those doors, she was home.

She stood there amazed at everyone and everything. The people of Bon Temps were laughing and drinking themselves to death, like she never left.  She scanned the room, until she recognized a loud mouth and a head full of bright crimson hair. Arlene. She made eye contact with Arlene and suddenly, the pitcher Arlene was holding crashed down to the floor.

Arlene just stood there, not moving a single muscle, like she was frozen in time. ‘Ho-ly shit’, were the only words that managed to escape her lips. Soon the whole room went silent. Another voice emerged from the back.

‘Arlene, you can’t keep droppin’ the-‘. She took a step back. It was like going back in time, he still looked exactly the same.

His hair was exactly the same, maybe a little longer and definitely a little grayer. Damn, that man knew how to wear a pair of jeans! Everything fit perfectly. She met him in the eyes and instantly she felt drawn to him like she never left. Just like the last ten years never happened. She could see the look of anger, disbelief, and hurt all in one glance. But she always got weak in the knees for Sam Merlotte .

‘Delia?’ He sputtered.  

She found herself gushing with excitement. She walked towards him, arms open. She wrapped around him tight him, breathing in his scent. Even though everything was so strong to her this was so different. It was comfortable. It was home.

‘Sam’, she whispered longingly into his ear.

‘ How did you- where did you-‘ He responded the way she expected him to, the way she expected anyone to respond but the thing was that she knew Sam. She knew what made him happy, what made him tick and she would never forget.

‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ she asked him. He nodded.

Nothing was said as she followed Sam towards his office, they walked in silence. The crowd was still quiet but, she could hear the gossiping whispers. As she passed the kitchen, she saw an uncooked hamburger being slapped on the grill. It only reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in about three weeks; the ringing in her ears began. She was used to not eating for long periods of time. It was how she learned to curb her hunger for human flesh. At first she fed on squirrels and other animals, but they had a gamey taste she really didn’t care for. Once True Blood came along she found the transition a lot easier.  

She entered his office and he closed the door behind him. She started to feel faint, soon enough she was starting to look at the ceiling.. ‘Whoa, hey!’ Sam caught her just in time before she hit the floor. The nosebleeds began. This always happened when she didn’t feed well, not only her but, every vampire got the bleeds. Sam ushered to the chair at his desk and gave her a towel for her nose. ‘Have you eaten? You look-‘

She giggled at him. ‘What? Sick? Pale?’

‘No, you look the same, exactly the same.’ He said as if he just said an ugly secret out loud. She looked at him and sighed.

She realized that she had a lot of explaining to do, not just to Sam but to everyone. She looked at him in the eyes. He was giving her the same look he had ten years ago. Her eyes began to drift to the box of True Blood on the floor. Sam followed her eyes to the box. It took him a minute to figure out why she was looking but it all came together.

‘You’re a-?’ Once again like letting out a dirty little secret. She saw the anger and pain rise in him.  

Sam, I promise I will explain everything to you, I promise. Just let me eat , okay?‘ She gathered enough strength to walk towards him. She kissed him gingerly on his cheek and smelled his scent once more. Sam closed his eyes.

“Who the hell does she think is, she comes here after ten years and I’m supposed to wait until she decides to get good and ready to tell me the truth?” he thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

He loved that girl more than anything in this world. Hell, he would  give her the world if he knew how. He nodded his head and remembered that he had a restaurant to run.

`‘We can talk when I close up. Take my keys, there is a string a housing complexes just down the road, mine is the second one on the left. Take as much True Blood as you can carry and just wait for me there.’

Sam really didn’t know why he was so trusting of her, he didn’t know where she had been or who she could’ve possibly become while she was gone. ‘Sam.’ She called out after him.

‘Thank you’ She honestly didn’t know what else to say, she knew she was asking a lot, especially after what she put Sam through. He nodded and walked out.  He began to think, ‘Is this why you couldn’t pick up a fucking phone? Huh? We have been looking for you for ten years, Delia, I thought you were dead.’

He couldn’t keep his mind on anything else. Especially since Arlene kept staring at him, he swore she was burning a hole right through him. He knew what she was getting at, she was wondering what he was going to do now. The answer was that he didn’t know and he was pretty sure there were no self-help books on what to do when the girlfriend you intended on spending the rest of your life with, disappears for ten years and comes back as a vampire. For right now he was going to keep it as normal as he knew how.

Delia walked up the steps to the house. She reached for the screen when the dog on the porch seemed to feel threatened. ‘Shhh, hey now its ok. I’m a friend, I promise.’ She gave the pup a straight look in the eyes and a rub behind the ears. Immediately, the canine rolled over onto its belly, waiting to receive all the scratches it could get. Delia smiled from ear to ear like the pup before her.

She opened the door into Sam’s house. It was rather un-homey. Other than the god awful wallpaper, which she knew Sam probably picked out, he never was never one for decoration.  He had no sense of style really, for goodness sakes all he ever wore were jeans and t-shirts or whatever awful button up he could find. But that was Sam.

Other than a few boxes there really wasn’t any sign of anyone living here. She looked around  to see what kind of man Sam had become, while she was gone. She wanted to see vacation photos, photos of friends or even ex-girlfriends hell, even current girlfriends. Thinking back,  she realized that Sam was always alone. If she wasn’t with him, he was alone. She couldn’t help but think if he had been alone the whole time while she was gone.

She walked into the kitchen to look into the fridge. Nothing. She put the four cases of True Blood onto the floor and put one bottle into the microwave. It really didn’t taste any better hot but it tasted better than cold blood. She soon wandered into the back bedroom. The bed was unmade.

“Maybe he slept here,” she thought.  

She placed the bottle of True Blood on the nightstand and  knelt down, she could smell him on the pillow and sheets. “He definitely slept here.” She breathed him in. She started to think of the days she would spend in bed with Sam. She would first spend a few hours with him but he would wrap his arms around her waist and pepper kisses on the back of her neck.  

‘Baby, please don’t go. Please just a few more hours. It gets so goddamn lonely out here, baby please!” He begged and pleaded.

She loved being alone with him. They would always joke about getting married and starting a family. They joked about going around the world and one day opening a restaurant. They joked even though every time she could tell Sam Merlotte wasn’t joking. Next to the bed was a box of old t-shirts. She dug deeper into the box to see if she could find anything else about Sam. Found a picture. Nothing new, just a memory, something she had almost forgotten.

It was her and Sam on a lake outside of Shreveport. It was after college finals and Sam wanted to reward her or more like reward himself, because they could start the next phase of their life together. He was holding onto her hips tight and kissing her cheek, while she smiled into the camera. She also remembers the fight they had right after that picture was taken. Sam was ready for their lifetime adventure, while Delia wanted to take her time and start things slow.

‘ What about our plans, baby? What about what we talked about?’ He protested.

``I know, I know. We could still do it. You can come with me and get an apartment. And hey, since you got your GED, maybe you could take a few classes –‘

‘I don’t have the money for schools like these. Why can’t we just do like we planned?‘

She wanted to go with Sam so bad but she knew if she didn’t get a diploma for something that she could really get a job, that also paid well, she would be kicking herself for the rest of her life.  

‘I’m not saying we still can’t do it, im just saying if I get a decent education then that would make the future so much easier. We wouldn’t make that many mistakes later on.’

‘What do you mean by decent education? Mistakes? What mistakes?’ His blood was boiling. ‘Look just because I didn’t go to any tight-assed college doesn’t mean –‘

‘Oh yeah because I forgot you’re the Lone Fucking Ranger! I get it Sam, AUTHORITY BAD! I’m not asking you to enroll in fucking Oxford, I’m just asking you to do something that’s going to help us-‘

‘Well you sure as hell wasn’t thinking about us when you decided to get rid our baby.’

He said it to spite her. He knew that ate her up inside, he knew that she hated herself for what happened but it was too late for him to take back what he said. He saw the tears and hate swell up in her eyes but he was mad at her, he was mad because it seemed like she was trying to destroy the family that he wanted, the life he wanted to have with her.

Tears fell from her eyes like a stream. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t even know what to feel. She couldn’t be mad at him for saying it; it hurt him as much as it hurt her but the way he said it like he was using it to make her feel guilty. That baby didn’t ask to be conceived, it was too many tequila shots and Delia feeling needy.

‘Fuck You.’ It came out like she couldn’t breathe

She took one of the oars. Sam thought that he was going to end up in the lake. She pulled the boat towards the dock, which was a lot harder than she thought, she usually let Sam row. All he could do was watch her because God knows what she’d do to him if dared to try to talk to her right now.  

Once the boat reached the dock, she hoisted herself up on the ladder and ran. She really had no idea where she was going but she didn’t want to look at Sam Merlotte. Her tears flew back against the wind making it hard to see where she was going. She decided to stop in the middle of a meadow of dandelions not to far from the lake. She collapsed down into the ground hard. Her body was shaking from crying.

She jumped when Sam came and put an arm around her, she could barely hear him through her sobbing. He rocked with her back and forth.

‘Shh baby it's okay. ‘ he whispered to her. ‘It’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I promise I didn’t.’

He peppered kisses all over her neck. His shirt was soaked with all the tears but he didn’t care, he was holding onto someone who loved him and she loved him right back. Delia managed to catch her breathe for a moment.

‘I’m sorry Sam, I’m sorry I fucked everything up for us. I’m-‘ he interrupted her.

‘Hey, you didn’t fuck anything up okay. Hell, if anything was fucked up it was because of me, I was being selfish.  I wasn’t thinking about you and how you felt I was thinking of myself and I’m sorry. I love you Delia. I love you more than anything in this world. You are all that I have and I appreciate you sticking with me, I really do. I am always going to love you okay. Now I brought you out here to have a nice day with my favorite woman and to-‘

She kissed him. He was all that she wanted right now in this moment and that’s what she had. She was never going to love anyone the way that she loved Sam.

‘I love you Sam.’

‘Love you too baby’.

Drops of blood began to drip down onto the picture. She touched eyes and found them wet. She looked down to her fingertips and saw the same red that was dripping on her hand held memory. This photo reminded her of a promise she made to herself, a promise that she made to Sam and now, many years later she realized that she had broken that promise the moment she had a choice. The choice was to go back home Bon Temps and seek help from her family, from Sam or to stay away.

Her eyes began to pour down blood. That feeling came back to her. That feeling she had they day she went to the clinic pregnant and left pregnant free. That feeling she had that day on the lake when Sam dug up the guilt she had. The feeling that the world would be better off without her and that Sam would be better off without her. She set the photo on top of the night stand next to her bottle of True Blood which was now only a little warm. She walked into the bathroom. It was vacant of everything. Everything in it was stark white; the sink, the toilet, the walls, the floor. The blood seemed so red, so fake once it dripped onto the white tile.

She looked at the mirror. Her cheeks seemed like they had a blush on her chestnut skin but, it was only the blood stains she got when she cries.

‘He deserves more than this, he deserves more than you.’ She said to herself in the mirror.

Wanting to kill herself was nothing new. She wanted to do it the night she was turned but, that only makes her a coward. She looked at herself in the mirror once more. She was dirty, hungry, and she smelled so bad that she was beginning to be repulsed by her scent. She turned to the shower and turned on the hot water. She had always been that way. She had always liked her showers and baths hot. She checked to see it was hot enough it burned her hand but it healed in an instant.

She took off her rancid clothes and stepped into the shower. She let out a wailing sound of pain from the hot water. It kept burning and burning her skin but her skin just kept regenerating.  She wanted to be numb to it. Numb to the pain, the hurt, to everything. Blood kept falling from her eyes and  onto the bottom of shower, only this time the water made them more pink. All she could do was cry now how hard she tried to stop, all she just wanted to do was cry. She crouched down and curled her knees toward her chest and rested her head against the shower wall and let the blood stream down her face.

[kimjichim]

Expectations | 01

Summary: One night out is all you need to get your heart snatched. You can call him a friend, a fuckbuddy or the guy you’re currently seeing. The label doesn’t matter. That’s what you both agreed on and you’re okay with that; until you realised you weren’t.

Genre: College! AU, fluff???  idk sis but soon to be hella fluff n later angst n meybe smutty idk (just letting yall know)

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 1,334 (hella short srry)

Warnings: none atm apart from swearing~~

A/N: hi bitches im back after 3 years mwahahaaaa. honestly, idk if any of yall even remember me but like this time round i actually wanna properly start writing more (esp cos its gonna help with my HSC) and ill have a lot more time from now on cos im graduating hs soon!!!! this story is lowkey based on smth that happened to me a few months ago but obvs with tweaks here n there. my writing is hella rusty so sorry if it’s dry. its not really a full chapter but i really wanted to release it before i throw it away like always yeet. i promise to release the next one soon~~~. if yall got any feedback, it would be much appreciated TTTT would you like a 3-4 chapter piece? or a slow burn series? lemme knowww cos i havent fully thought about what i wanna do with this story yet. hope yall like the intro thoughjgghg <3 <3

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You’re still not used to it. The loud music blasting into your ear from every corner of the street and the hoards of people that walk past. It’s a Friday night and you wanna let loose this holidays, especially since you just recently turned the legal age. You’re just as excited and nervous as the first time you’ve ever walked into a bar. The nagging thought of the bouncers not letting you in persists at the back of your mind. You present your ID and give them a small smile, all the while fidgeting with your fingers behind you. However, your worries are immediately washed away as they smile back and step aside to let you in. 

You walk in with Jinhee, one of your good friends who invited you out tonight to get you into the clubbing scene. Initially, you agreed in excitement and was looking forward to tonight for the whole week. But now that you’re here, you’re not so hyped anymore, especially now that you realise you have to introduce yourself to Jinhee’s friends. Meeting new people? While you’re sober? Nope, no thanks. 

Regardless, you stick closely behind Jinhee as she struts over to the bar and orders a few drinks while you scan the area, appreciating the chill vibe in the bar. People are generally huddled in their groups all erupting in laughter and talks. The girls look stunning in their outfits and the guys look clean and fit.

“Y/N. Here,” You turn your head to Jinhee while she hands you two drinks, “Gin and tonic. That’s your favourite, right?” 

You smirk and nod before you notice another two drinks in her hands. Why do we have so ma- 

“We’re starting off strong tonight, I want to be wasted when we get into the club.” She smirks. 

You scoff in disbelief, “You mean to say that these two will be all you need tonight, right? Lightweight.”

“Oh, shut up.” she retorts, “Come on, my friends are sitting on the other side.”

You follow her without a word and mentally prepare yourself for all the names you’re gonna have to remember for the night. Thankfully, the drinks kicked in faster than it usually did, allowing your social skills to skyrocket. The girls were all so nice and looked amazing in their outfits and the guys were really sweet as well. So many different conversations filled the circle and it was absolutely chaotic, but you didn’t mind it for some reason. 

“Hey guys, we should head to the other bar in the next block for another round. Heard it was really nice there.” One of the guys shouted. Taejun, was it?

“You really want to see those dancers, huh?” one shouted back, throwing his arm over his shoulders, instantly going for the choke-hold, “Taehyung, you horny motherfucker.” Oh fuck, wrong name. I must be drunk.

You pay no mind to it as the need to freshen yourself suddenly overcomes you as you stand from the stool. You decide to sober up a bit before you leave and grab onto Jinhee while everyone starts heading off.

“Jinhee, I’ll be in the bathroom. Wait for me before we leave, okay?” You ask.

She throws the okay sign while stumbling towards the entrance to catch up to everyone else.

“That bitch better not ditch me like last time.” You mumble to yourself, doubtful of Jinhee due to her intolerance to alcohol. 

Well, at least I’m having a good time. I haven’t had this much fun in awhile. You’re glad you came out and met some new people; you could really use some time to lighten yourself up from all that torture in the last semester. 

You step out of the bar, expecting Jinhee to jump out at you, nagging you for being too slow but she’s nowhere to be seen. You sigh in disappointment. Figured. You pull out your phone to call Jinhee but is stopped by a sudden invasion of personal space.

“Y/N, right? Let’s go, Jinhee said that everyone will be waiting at the next place.”

You look up at his face in confusion before you realise that he was one of Jinhee’s friends. 

“Oh shit, uhh, Taehyuk, right?” You ask while stumbling. Jesus, my tolerance must’ve gotten lower too, I can’t think straight.

“Hahaha, close. My name is Taehyung. Good try though.” He snickers.

Motherfu- 

“God dammit, I’m so sorry. I’m really bad with names,” You stammer, “especially when I’m drunk.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he smiles, “We’re all like that when we’re a bit tipsy.”

Wow, cute smile.

“We should probably start heading over to where everyone else is.”

You nod in approval and begin walking through the busy streets. The two of you maintain a good conversation along the way, getting to know each other and finding similar interests. Throughout the ten minute walk. You couldn’t get over how good looking this guy was. His sharp, dark eyes were so mesmerising. There was a cute mole on his tall nose and his lips were of a pretty pink. Not to mention his freaking hair. It looked like black silk shining against the lights. It was luscious and so soft-looking. I would do anything to run my hand through his hair right now. 

Unfortunately, your alone time with Taehyung came to an end as you finally met up with the rest of the group. You see Jinhee with her two bottles of soju, giving you the dirtiest look while being barely able to stand. You immediately walk over to her without much thought or any more exchange with Taehyung, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“This is for me, I assume?” You say with a glare, snatching the bottle out of her hand.

She ignores you and looks over your shoulder at Taehyung, which your eyes naturally follow.

“Already getting a hot one, huh?” She snickers.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t ditch me in the first place.” You grumble back.

“Your welcome.”

You sigh once again while downing a bit of the soju you stole from Jinhee and occasionally glance over to Taehyung. You two make eye contact from time to time and give a friendly smile but you don’t push for more. That small ten minute conversation was enough for you to constantly sneak glances at him. You’re not complaining though, he is really pleasing to look at. You feel like a child staring at a really expensive toy at the display window.

The night slowly moves on as you meet more and more people, all the while involuntarily having your eyes drawn to Taehyung, wherever he is; as if you have a radar on him this whole time. However, you don’t dwell on him for much longer than two seconds, allowing yourself to fully enjoy your night with your newly found friends.

The night was finally about to get started when Taehyung caught you glancing over at him once again. Reflexively, you smile but he doesn’t return the smile like he usually does. It throws you off guard and you freeze in shock before quickly turning your head back to the current conversation. You can feel your face and ears getting rapidly warmer. Shortly after, you feel a presence behind you and hear a deep voice call out your name.

“Y/N?” It’s Taehyung. You turn around. “We’re heading off to the club now, you wanna join us?”

“Uhh-” You immediately look towards Jinhee to ask if everyone was ready to leave before you get cut off by her loud voice.

“C’mon everyone! It’s time to hit the club, let’s go!!” Jinhee exclains to group while shuffling everyone towards the exit and gives you a small wink. That sly fox. You think in amusement.

“Alright, shall we head?” Taehyung asks while he cocks his head to the side.

You simply nod and follow him. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system but you can’t seem to control your excitement at the possible opportunities that could follow tonight.

[taylornock]

sadness + a pandemic

its march 18th, 2020. the nation is in a state of emergency due to the spread of coronavirus; a viral infection with flu-like symptoms that can be severe [potentially fatal] for the immunosuppressed, elderly, and very young. as a result of this horseshit - everything on the calendar is cancelled. everything including classes for the rest of the semester. so Ohio State has kindly asked us to move out of our current campus housing and say goodbye to this year from the quarantine of our own homes.

-

i keep trying to remind myself of how blessed i am; something that has been a common theme in my life. “people always have it worse” “in the grand scheme of things” etc. but this is so hard to have that mindset. I am trying to check myself and be grateful for what i have, i am in no way suffering more than those who are going to lose meals, family members, shelter, or jobs due to this fucking virus. but my feelings are still heavy, + threatening a downward spiral in my mental health. also cough syrup just came on so like, now im really unstable and my room is pitch black i do not feel well

in the past week i have been forced to accept the end of so many things. A) my experience living in my sorority house, B) my college friends until fall, C) the seniors graduating and moving on, and D) half a semester in college that I can’t get back.

To start with A - the sorority house. my heart is WRENCHING over this. i cant even begin to put into words how much that damn house means to me as stupid as it sounds. In that house, I didn’t just make friends. I didn’t just go to school and come home to eat or sleep. It completely changed who I am as a person, and brought me further out of the shell that I didn’t realize was still covering me. I have been blessed with amazing people in my life and I was fortunate enough to meet even more of them in that house. over 7 months, i met girls who made me feel validated and loved in a way that only a few people had shown me before. Without them I would not have the confidence to do so many things I did this school year, and i cannot thank them enough for their support through it all. I could talk about my sorority until my mouth gets dry, but its all because i feel so passionately about what it has done for me. Im not ‘paying for my friends’ or for frats or for free t shirts (that aren’t even free might i mention)…. these people mean the world to me. seeing their faces everyday in the house brought me so much joy and peace of mind that i am terrified for what i am going to do without it. i am a people person to my death, and living somewhere where i could walk down the hall and pop my head into people’s rooms to bother them was the best thing that has ever happened to me. my anxiety chilled the f out in this house; because i was forced into conversations i didnt want to have and forced to socialize with girls at dinner when all i wanted to do was go eat by myself and cry about food like i used to do in high school. this experience was truly     once    in     a    lifetime,     and i had the best memories with all of those people. i never felt so at home like i did in the chee as we call it - that place gave me the same sense of shelter that id cry about leaving behind in cleveland. because of these strong memories associated with that house, my chest is physically tightening when i remember i have to leave it behind tomorrow morning,,,, tomorrow morning! its just not fair to have something that great and that makes you so happy ripped away from you without warning - and again i know this happens all the time in life but it doesn’t suck any less when it does!! you know what else sucks about the house? i actually didnt want to live in it, at all. I thought my life was perfect last year and i wasn’t willing to change it for the world - but i took a leap (or was kind of forced to jump) and it is the best decision i have ever made. i didnt want to do it, i did it, and now im so happy —— so naturally life comes in with the “let it go now before you’re ready”. you’re joking? the best things in my life come out of what i think are going to be the worst things, and now i am so sad that i didn’t have that attitude 7 months ago and wasted even a minute questioning what was right in front of me.

to my college friends; i love you so so much. thank you for being a part of the family i have at OSU… a school I thought was going to be too big for me. I will miss your smiling faces every day. I will miss the different conversations and the little run ins and the squadding up at bars that have been my entire college experience. stay healthy and well i love you all and cant wait to see you again (also come visit me please im sad and its not long before im going to start punching walls)

to my seniors. my freaking seniors!!! this is so unfair to you — and i honestly think that the only thing keeping me sane throughout the whole thing is knowing that if you can have a positive attitude about all of this ending so quickly than i fucking better have one too. im not ready to let you go even a little. i couldn’t even TYPE that sentence without starting to feel a lump in my throat. there are so many people i unfortunately just got to know this year that have given me an example of the person i want to be. you all have been great role models for me (even when you think you haven’t) and i am so grateful for the memories we did get to have together. at our preference round of recruitment, hearing the seniors speak made me start crying immediately. i hate change. i hate people leaving. even though you are doing great things in your young adult lives i just don’t want you to go!!! is that fair just to have your face around all the time?? I am so so sad that i didnt get a proper goodbye —— that you didnt get a proper goodbye to your school like you’ve dreamt of. this is all too sudden and unfair and i want to squeeze you all to pieces and tell you i love you 100 times and not to forget me. please dont forget me because i will never forget you. (crying again) THANK YOU for showing me kindness, hard work, fun, and true love for your friends. THANK YOU for showing me what its like to have an unmatchable energy level and be excited about waking up every day… everyone can use that mindset. THANK YOU ALL, please dont go. i want nothing more than to take this virus away from you just so you can have a second to look around and breathe.

half a semester in college i cant get back. its true what they say ~the years get faster as you get older~ and i really wish it wasn’t. I already feel like im growing up too fast, like my parents are growing older too fast, or my younger cousins growing up too fast (and not just because of tik tok). i feel like time is moving so much faster than i can handle. i feel like i am spiraling into my dark hole of losing everything - and the feeling of not being able to stop your life from slipping through your own fingers. i want to make it stop; i want to freeze time and relive all of the amazing memories and laughter fits i have had this school year. i only get 4 real years of college, and to think that im losing some of one breaks my heart. i feel like i never truly value a moment until after it happens, and you really don’t know what you have until its gone. i am so FUCKING sad to have to say goodbye to sophomore year like this; and i pray that i can make up for it in some other way and that things dont change. i am so fucking scared of things changing - and i was so happy 2 weeks ago with life that im not okay with anything fucking with it. im sad, im trying to cope, and trying to process everything that’s happening. but i really just wish it all wasn’t. i dont want to feel like im always running out of time.

tell everyone you love them & stop to smell the flowers. appreciate what you have now because you never know when a virus is going to take over the globe and destroy the idea that you have everything planned out. im sad, i havent felt like this in a minute. and it goes up from here, i know it does! but the light at the end of that tunnel is a little dim right now. i think my flashlight needs a few more batteries (metaphorically! ha ha! now im not sure if it makes sense and is deep or im just jet lagged) 

okay goodnight! 

xoxo sad taylor hours 

[dumners]

my tes ocs

also known as, i focus way too much on the messy dunmer and sadly no one else

The Seryiils (+the Gimayns)

Just the most dramatic family in Tamriel

oh my god there’s so much for Llirala im so sorry

Indrasi S (nerevarine) 

Dunmer - Any pronouns (tho i’ll use they)

Actual reincarnation of Nerevar, and their repressed memories affect their life in ways they don’t realize until later. Born and raised in the Imperial City. Raised in an orphanage after being abandoned there by unknown parents. Grew up to be an alchemist in the city and ran the store The Main Ingredient. Met Raldis when he delivered ingredients, they grew closer and got married, and Indrasi took his last name bcuz they didn’t have one. The two have a daughter, Llirala. Raldis dies in a bandit raid when Llirala is 6, and afterwards, Indrasi becomes distant bcuz they are working to provide for Llirala. Llirala grows up making bad decisions in an attempt to get Indrasi to pay attention to her, which eventually leaves Llirala abandoning her newborn son, Calden, with Indrasi. They raise Calden, but rarely sees Llirala during that time. Eventually, they take on an apprentice at The Main Ingredient, Ogier Georick (the actual in-game owner). Calden grows up and goes out on his own. Llirala comes back after a lotta of her own nonsense. She ends up framing Indrasi for murder, which gets them noticed by Uriel Septim VII and sent to Morrowind. 

They really only do the Main Quest in Morrowind and maybe a few side quests, but no faction quests. They slowly get their Nerevar memories back during the course of the Main Quest. They then do the Tribunal and Bloodmoon dlcs in that order. During the Tribunal dlc they basically just ignore Helseth, and during the Bloodmoon dlc they side with the Skaal. They help build Raven Rock, and then just kinda never leave. They try to go through everything with as little death as possible. By 4E 201, they are still on Solstheim, drifting in and out of Raven Rock, hanging out with the Skaal, and mooching off of Neloth.

Raldis S

Dunmer - He/Him

Pretty chill dude, kinda unfortunate that he strongly resembles Voryn Dagoth, but what can you do. Born and raised in Gnisis. Later joined a Hlaalu trading company and made deliveries mainly to Cyrodiil. Met Indrasi on one of those deliveries. They became closer, eventually married, and had Llirala. He dies in a bandit raid when Llirala is 6.

Llirala S (hok)

Dunmer - She/Her (later Daedra - Any)

Ah, my favorite shithead. Born and raised in the Imperial City. Born to Indrasi and Raldis Seryiil. Raldis died when she was only 6, which caused Indrasi to throw themself into their work so they could support Llirala. Llirala grows up to be a self-destructive mess who keeps making bad decisions in an attempt to get Indrasi to pay attention to her, and this turns into her just craving any kind of attention from anyone. She had a fling with a friend that ended in her son, Calden, who she abandoned with Indrasi. She then proceeded to travel around Cyrodiil doing favors for basically every single Daedric Prince. She joined the Arena and killed her way to the top, loving every second of the validation from the crowd. Now with the idea that “murder is okay actually” in her head, she stabbed a man who catcalled her, and proceeded to frame Indrasi for the murder, killing two birds with one knife. This got her noticed by the Dark Brotherhood. She loved her time in the Brotherhood and loved her Family, and she killed them all when ordered to. This messed her up pretty badly, but she just went “if I keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.” She managed to convince herself that she was fine bcuz she still had Shadowmere and Lucien. But then Lucien died, and Llirala killed Mathieu but it was too late bcuz everyone was still dead. Llirala basically had an epiphany like “oh, maybe killing is bad,” and she abandoned the Dark Brotherhood leaving it to fall into ruin. She joined the Thieves Guild and found out that she kinda liked helping people, but by the end she didn’t want to be the Grey Fox, so she gave the job to Armand Christophe. After that she bought shoes from the Copious Coinpurse and got arrested for grave-robbing.

Then the Main Quest happened, Llirala made some good friends in Martin and Baurus, and she constantly mocked Jauffre. I’m cliche and like angst so Llirala and Martin liked each other but didn’t say anything about it until right before Martin sacrificed himself, he kissed her. Yay cliche angst! When Dagon was breaking down the Temple roof, Llirala pushed Martin out of the way of falling rubble, but it ended up falling on her instead, breaking her leg and pinning her under it. Martin sacrificed himself, and Llirala was stuck under the rubble until someone showed up. Baurus helped get her out, and Jeelius healed her leg, but she wouldn’t be able to fight the way she used to, no more sneak. Llirala spent two depressed weeks in the Imperial Palace, before being presented with the Imperial Dragon Armor. She basically snapped and ran away again, leaving behind everything that could identify her as a the HoK. 

She threw herself back into adventuring in the hopes of getting herself killed. She did the KotN, but didn’t find any peace with the Nine, and left when that was over. Immediately after being resurrected, she left and went straight to Bravil, where she heard rumors about a door out in the Bay that no one came back from the same, if at all. Before leaving, she spoke to the Night Mother who called her out on constantly abandoning everything, and berated her for still having Shadowmere and the Blade of Woe despite leaving the Brotherhood. So before Llirala left for the door, she said goodbye to her oldest companion and sent her back to the Brotherhood with her Blade of Woe. 

In the Isles, Llirala fit in, but she kept refusing to acknowledge that. She killed the Gatekeeper despite it not attacking her, and she wielded a perfect order sword for the majority of it. She tended to pick Dementia when she had to make a choice bcuz she was too depressed to deal with the brightness of Mania. Over the course of the questline, she began to really love the residents of the Isles and by the time Sheogorath turned into Jyggalag, she refused to abandon the Isles bcuz she didn’t want everyone there to die. In the fight with the Tree Clone, her order sword shatters, so after that she wields a madness sword. She became Sheogorath with the thought that it wasn’t going to be permanent, so when Jyggalag disappears she’s left standing there like.

Calden S

Dunmer(+Altmer) - He/Him

Born from a fling between Llirala and one of her friends. Raised by Indrasi in the Imperial City. Practiced destruction magic mainly. Tried to join the Arcane University many times, but was always rejected. Later traveled to Skyrim to study at the College of Winterhold (pre-Collapse). Met his future wife, Nephelle, there. Great Collapse happened. Him and Nephelle have Viri, but Nephelle dies in childbirth (bcuz i need her gone and im lazy lol). Calden loses faith in his ability to raise Viri, and when she starts speaking a strange language (dovahzul) as a baby, Calden freaks out. He asks around, is pointed toward the Greybeards, and leaves baby Viri with them due to a lack of Indrasi to foist the kid onto. 

Calden just kinda fucks off after that, but if tes vi takes place within 100 years of tes v, then he’ll be the protag if it works.

Viri (ldb)

Dunmer - She/Her

Raised by the Greybeards. Grew up only being called Dragonborn, so she had to name herself. Got the name Viri from Akaviri. When she was 2, young (like 8) Ulfric arrived to be trained, so Viri grew up with him as an older brother*. Most of Viri’s childhood was spent training her Thu’um, and reading the books available. She became fascinated with magic and practiced what she could by herself. She had a strained relationship with the Greybeards, but was very close with Paarthurnax. When the Great War started, Ulfric left, and Viri tried to go with him, but she was like 12 so she couldn’t. Later, she ran away from High Hrothgar at 17, but the war had already ended. She spent some time in Ivarstead before going up to the College of Winterhold to study magic. During her time at the College, the whole Eye of Magnus business happened, but Mirabelle survived it. After a while, she tries to leave Skyrim to explore the rest of Tamriel, but she walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. She does the Main Quest up until the point that most people break off, bcuz she does not want to go back to the Greybeards just yet. She does the Thieves Guild, becomes the Guildmaster and returns it to its former glory. She does the Dark Brotherhood bcuz she is trying to find the familial love she never had with the Greybeards, but she just ends up being a murderer with a weird ghost friend and a demon horse. Finally finishes the Main Quest, does not touch the Civil War. And through all those questlines she completes all the Daedric Quests for one reason or another. Then she does Dawnguard, sides with the Dawnguard, gets a vampire gf, and then that vampire gf leaves to see the world, but promises to return**. Then Viri goes to Solstheim. There she meets Indrasi and manages to convince them to help her rescue Miraak, bcuz she is sick and tired of playing into the hands of the Daedric Princes, and saving Miraak would be an excellent “fuck you” to Hermaeus Mora.

*i don’t like ulfric at all, but this creates an interesting dynamic.

**Serana just needs to figure out who she is in the Fourth Era away from Viri, bcuz she doesn’t want to end up constructing her whole life around her.

Sethesi (Seth) G (kinda silly* vestige)

Dunmer - She/Her

Seth is baby and I love her so much. I made her 15 bcuz I wanted to make a shonen protag, but I also made her a mage, so she’s also a magical girl, but I also made her a necromancer, so she’s a dark magical girl. She was born and raised in the Worm Cult with her older brother, Llondryn. She had a knack for necromancy, and never really saw a problem with it bcuz she was not immune to propaganda. Llondryn managed to convince her to leave the Cult with him, but on the way out, Llondryn tried to sacrifice himself to save just her, but she didn’t realize that was happening so she ended up saving Llondryn instead. The Cultists found her, and she ended up being sacrificed to Molag Bal as an example of what happens to traitors. Escapes Coldharbour, but ends up on the Daggerfall Covenant questline bcuz I think that one fits the Main Quest best. Seth spends most of the Main Quest hiding her necromancer origins and trying to pass herself off as a templar, but finally snaps during the fight with Mannimarco and reveals her true power. She also does the Fighters and Mages Guild quests during the Main Quest, but she’s much more fond of the Mages Guild. Basically everyone who interacts with Seth adopts her as a younger sister/daughter/niece bcuz she is baby. She does quests pretty normally, and always tries to save as many lives as possible. At some point she becomes a vampire as a “fuck you” to meridia, but I’m still considering when. She also abandons her morals after that and joins the Dark Brotherhood bcuz I really need her to do that questline*. I’m not actually done with everything in eso yet, so Seth’s progression might change.

Unless something happens to contradict this in eso, after eso, Seth just wanders around Tamriel, occasionally checking in on how the world is doing.

*I say kinda silly bcuz in the spirit of mmos I gave Seth a travelling party. However, that party is Indrasi, Llirala, and Viri after their games. Yeah, that’s kinda op but all of them are hiding their true abilities, and Llirala is just not at full power bcuz of the original sheo still being around. I’m doing this bcuz it is so funny to me, especially bcuz of how many references to those games there are. The reason they are there is bcuz Viri pulled some time travel bullshit. 

Llondryn G

He/Him

Born and raised in Worm Cult with younger sister, Sethesi. Never showed much aptitude for necromancy, which made him expendable. When people started getting executed, he convinced Sethesi to try to escape. While trying to escape, Sethesi sacrificed herself to let him escape. 

I don’t know what he does later, but he eventually has kids and the family tree eventually leads to Indrasi.

Unrelated - i dont have much on them :(

Korabi

Khajiit - They/Them

Mage. Travel partners with Andenyerinwe (the Oblivion Duo). Does the Oblivion Mages Guild quests.

Andenyerinwe (Andy)

Altmer - She/Her

Goes by Andy. Battle-ax wielding, heavy-armor wearing warrior. Travel partners with Korabi (the Oblivion Duo). Does the Oblivion Fighters Guild quests.

Laurri (blades hero)

Khajiit - She/Her

Uuuuhhhh....... idk..... she’s dating Saashi?? 

Haj-xo (serious ep vestige)

Argonian - She/Her

Shadowscale. I think it’s funny if she dates Naryu bcuz it’s like assassin romeo and juliet. Also that means Veya gets two murder moms.

Nhaz (serious dc vestige)

Redguard - They/Them

I need more on them. 

Mizar (serious ad vestige)

Khajiit - He/Him

I need more on him. But he is trans. I’m also not done with the Aldmeri Dominion quests yet.

[not-close-to-straight]

I See You (SWS #28)(Ghost!Peter)

This has a PART TWO!

SUNDAYS WITH SPIDEYPOOL MASTERLIST 

*******************

The therapist had suggested a new apartment, had said that moving on would be easier if he wasn’t surrounded by his old life, by the things that had made up his life with Vanessa before all the...all the everything happened. 

She hadn’t been wrong. 

It was infinitely easier to sleep at night when he couldn’t roll over and push his face into Vanessa’s old pillow and wish she was there. Easier to force himself out of bed when the new bathroom had a fancy shower head with all sort of...interesting options. Easier to make himself eat when the kitchen wasnt decorated with their mismatched pots and pans and funny sticky notes on the dirty fridge. 

Easier to deal with his new fucking face when he had torn down all the mirrors and tossed them away and now only clean white walls stared back at him. 

Easier to go a little crazy this way too. 

Two months Wade had been in this new place and he felt like maybe he hated it to his soul, but he didn’t know what else to do. Vanessa was gone. His looks and his charm were gone. Francis had been rude enough to die in an actual accident that Wade had had no part in, or had even been there to witness. 

He had dedicated so much time to finding Francis and plotting every way he was going to make that fucker pay that now that it was over Wade didn’t know what to do with himself. 

At least he had had a mission. A purpose. 

Now he was just a regular guy with an astonishing temper and a fantastically fucked up face living in a bland little apartment, trying to see a therapist to work through his (countless) issues, and staring at plain white walls long enough that he thought he really might be losing whatever was left of his sanity. 

Especially when he started hearing voices. 

Well not voices. One voice. Just the one. Singing or humming, sometimes talking, sometimes crying. 

It flitted in and out of his mind ever so often, and the first time Wade had heard it he had whipped around thinking someone was standing in his apartment, because he had heard the song as if someone had sang it in his ear. 

The second time it sounded more like it was coming from outside and he had gone to the window fully prepared to yell at some loud ass kids, only to realize there was no one on the street at all. 

Maybe it was music from one of the surrounding apartments? Or people walking down the hall? Or maybe it was weird radio interference? 

Wade searched desperately for what the voice could be, until he finally had to admit that maybe the voice was him. Maybe another side affect of this shitty new life was a psychological break, and now he really was crazy. 

And he sat in his new apartment staring at the white walls and thought, “Yeah alright. I could go crazy. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen.” 

**********************

Wade made his peace with his fracturing mind. The music wasnt half bad. The voice in his head was even a little soothing. It was like having someone else there in the apartment with him, and that wasn’t...terrible. 

(his therapist would disagree, but he stopped seeing her weeks ago) 

One day he even thought to say something back to the voice. Maybe if he said something aloud, his other personality would answer and hey, that would be like having a friend, wouldn’t it?

So he sat and waited. Stared at nothing until his eyes started to blur and then just on the edges of his consciousness--

“Say Becky, was you ever engaged?” 

Wade blinked. “Um, once. And my name isn’t Becky.” 

Silence in the room then, and Wade was struck by the oddest sensation of someone watching him, but he didn’t turn from the wall. “Were you ever engaged?” he asked tentatively, feeling entirely ridiculous for expecting an answer, but then--

“Are you talking to me?” 

“Who else would I be talking to?” he snorted. “Just me and you in here, isnt there? Unless there’s another voice or two hidden in my head?” 

“In your head.” The voice was cleared now, not quite as whispery. “Is that what you think?” 

“Um--” Wade blinked at the wall again, his senses going into overdrive when he got the impression of being approached, like someone was walking towards him. 

“Can you see me?” the voice asked. “Or just hear me?” 

“No, I cant see you.” Wade said in irritation, and then he was screeching at the top of his lungs, scrambling backwards over the couch and landing on the floor in an ungraceful heap, snatching his gun and sending several rounds right into the boy standing in front of him. 

Or rather, sending several rounds through the boy standing in front of him.

“Oh my god, you can see me!” the boy--teenager--college kid? said in excitement, and Wade started screeching again when he walked through the couch and knelt in front of him. “Stop screaming. Stop--stop screaming.” he was smiling, his hands reached out like he was going to touch Wade, and well, Wade was not about to have that, so he sent another round point blank into the kids face and---

---nothing. 

“That’s irritating.” the ghost/spirit/thing huffed. “Stop that.” 

“What in the fuck?” Wade blurted. “What the fuck. What in the ever loving actual fuck is going on? What the fu--” 

“Yes, you said that already.” the other one said mildly. “I dont understand why you can see me. A hundred years Ive been stuck here and no one has ever seen me and now you can see me and I dont understand--” he was staring at Wade like he was fascinated, words tumbling from his mouth almost faster than Wade could keep up, but that could have been because Wade was pretty sure he had gone completely insane this time and his mind had screeched to a complete stop before completely shattering. 

“Oh. You’re not crazy.” the ghost shook his head. “I’m really here. Well not here. Im sort of in between worlds. Which makes me wonder if you are--” without stopping to ask permission, and before Wade could think to run the fuck away, the ghost stuck his hands directly into Wade’s chest and first it was blinding cold and then raging heat and the last thing Wade remembered before passing out was the boys eyes widening in surprise, and the entirely unsettling thought that the ghost had the prettiest smile he had ever seen. 

*********************

Wade was still on the floor when he came to, and he shook his head to clear it of the ridiculous dream, retrieved his gun and flinched at the bullet holes in his previously perfect wall and stood to stumble to the bathroom to take a shower and wipe away the soreness from being on the floor all night. 

Well that was the plan, anyway, until he looked over at the couch and saw that fucking kid sitting there calmly, hands clasped in his lap, an eager smile on his face. 

“Nope.” Wade shook his head. “Nopety nope. Fuck no. You aren’t there. I’m not seeing things. Hearing voices is one thing. Hallucinations is another. I’m not even high. Its not fair to see things if I’m not even high.” he took a deep breath. “When I come back from my shower? You better be ghosted the fuck out of here, you understand?” 

He slammed the door to the bathroom and turned the water as hot as it could go, turned to reach for a towel--

--and screamed all over again when the kid appeared in front of him. 

“Good Christ.” Wade put a hand over his heart. “What are you doing?” 

“You don’t understand.” the other one grinned all over again. “You can see me. This is incredible.” 

“Is it?” Wade deadpanned. “Because I’m starting to feel like checking myself into a mental asylum.” 

“No, its incredible!” the ghost enthused. “You’re incredible. Your soul hovers in the same plane I do, and that’s why you can see me.” 

“Alright.” Wade took a deep breath. “I’ve snapped. Its fine. Due to happen, right? I’m going to take my shower, call my therapist and--”

“My names Peter!” the ghost blurted. “Peter. What’s your name?” 

“Wade.” he answered, because why not? Why wouldn’t he talk to the hallucination/ghost/imaginary friend. 

“Wade.” The ghost-- Peter-- kept smiling and Wade blinked at the happiness in it. “This is wonderful. Thank you. Thank you for seeing me.” 

“Um. You’re welcome?” 

Peter reached out then, and for all of two seconds Wade could feel his hand, solid and warm, on his scarred skin before it cooled and slid through. 

Oh yeah. Yeah, Im batshit crazy.

**************************

He wasn’t crazy, or at least that’s what Peter kept assuring him. 

“I’m real.” Peter said for what must have been the thousandth time as Wade eyeballed him suspiciously over his cereal. “Well, sort of real. A ghost. You really see me, you’re not going crazy.” 

“Im real.” Peter said again, days later when Wade came out of his bedroom and literally walked through him. “It was rude of you to walk through me, but Im really here.” 

Wade was too icked out by the thought of walking through someone, and the lingering chill in his bones to answer. 

“Im here.” Peter sighed impatiently, when it had been two weeks and Wade narrowed his eyes and threw a book at Peter, watching in fascination as it slowed to pass through Peters skin and then hit the wall with a thump. “Stop throwing things at me, please!” 

“Explain.” Wade finally said one day, plopping on to the couch and then jumping awkwardly up and moving to another chair when Peter sat on the couch next to him. “Explain this.” 

“I died a long time ago.” Peter explained. “Here before this building was born and my soul is tied to the land. No one can see me, or hear me and I’ve been wandering around this building for decades.”

“Not this apartment specifically?” Wade asked carefully, his therapists number already dialed in his phone just in case. 

“No.” Peter spread his hands vaguely. “You trapped me here. I was wandering through and you took down all the mirrors and now I cant leave.” 

“My bad.” Wade muttered, and Peter only grinned at him. “So thats why I can see you? Because you’re trapped?” 

“No, you can see me--” Peter leaned forward, brown eyes sparkling and a flush in his cheeks which was... odd...because Wade had always assumed ghosts were see through, not that they looked like cute guys from the 1800s. 

“You can see me because of your--” Peter motioned to his face then pointed to Wade. “Whatever this is, keeps your soul somewhere between life and death, like mine. When I touched you that first day--”

“When you violated my chest with your creepy hands?” Wade interrupted. 

“Yes.” again, with the little blush and Wade was annoyed by how much he liked it. “When I touched you, I felt your soul. Whatever happened to you keeps you from dying right?” 

“Right...” Wade hedged. 

“But you aren’t really.... alive?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “Right? I mean, being alive is basically the ability to die right? And you don’t have that ability. Our souls are on the same sort of plane, and I’m trapped in your apartment, so you can see me and talk with me and oh my god--” he laughed, clear and sweet. “I’ve been so lonely for so long and now you’re here and I can actually talk to you! Its incredible!” 

“Right.” Wade said again. “Incredible.” 

“This is weird for you?” Peter asked, looking upset. “You... you don’t want me here?” 

“Actually.” Wade ran his hand over his scalp, scratching idly and then flinching at the pain. “I’m weirded out because you’re awfully pretty for a ghost. I thought you would be blue and see through and blurry. Not looking like someone Id pick up from a bar.” 

“Oh!” Peters eyes lit (fuck Wade hated how much he liked it). “You’re awfully pretty too.” 

“You’re full of shit, baby boy.” Wade said calmly and got up from the chair. “Do you want me to put up a mirror so you can leave?” 

“Um. No?” Peter looked terribly unsure all the sudden. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“Talking with a ghost is better than thinking Im going crazy.” Was all Wade said. “Goodnight.” 

*********************

It was a weird life, sharing an apartment with a ghost, but Wade had adapted to a lot of weird shit in the last few years so really it wasnt an issue. 

Peter didnt eat of course, but he sat with Wade during every meal and made polite conversation. After Wade had shouted at him a few times, Peter had stopped just appearing in the bathroom, explaining sheepishly that he forgot to observe walls and doors when he could just walk through them. 

The bedroom was another issue, since Peter didn’t need to sleep he simply stood and watched and that was creepy even for Wade, so after another heated discussion, Peter had stopped doing that too. 

They settled into something of a pattern and it was a little domestic and sort of sweet how happy Peter was anytime Wade came home and it certainly didnt hurt that the kid was gorgeous, right? All long limbs and big eyes and a ridiculous smile and an annoying (adorable and fairly sexy) way of biting at his bottom lip when he got excited. 

“I ran off to join the circus when I was eighteen.” Peter explained one day and Wade said a silent prayer of thank the fucking lord that he had died at over eighteen-- and wow wasnt that a screwed up thought to have?

“What did you do in the circus?” he asked, only to keep his mind away from that sort of thought about the ghost.

“I was a trapeze artist.” Peter grinned. “Something amazing about flying like that. Flipping through the air and only having those strings to hold you up. We didn’t have nets and it was such a thrill to be that high up and know that you could die if you weren’t careful.” 

“Trapeze artist, huh?” Wade was the worst, because he heard trapeze artist and thought bendy and that was... that had to be messed up right? “So what happened?” 

“There wasn’t a net.” Peter explained sheepishly. “And I tried something ridiculous and fell. It wasn’t pretty.” 

“Uh, yeah. I bet not.” 

Another day, Wade was pacing in the apartment, rubbing at his head, irritated because his skin hurt and he had had nightmares the night before and hadnt slept and god he was cranky and finally collapsed face down on the couch to scream into a pillow--

--And cool hands landed on his back, touching just barely over his skin and numbing the sting and Wade took a shaky breath and asked, “Does it feel gross to you?” 

“All I can feel is your warmth.” Peter explained, working his hands lower and smiling over the groan of relief Wade gave him. “Im always cold, and you’re so warm, I love it.”

“Oh.” 

Cool hands smoothing over his butt and working down his legs and Wades eyes flew open in alarm when he started...responding... because it was weird enough that there was a ghost giving him a back rub but it was even weirder that he was apparently popping a boner over it but hey, the ghost was a hottie and it had been a long time since Wade had even thought to--

“Roll over for me.” Peter suggested, and then he laughed. “Or I could just get under you I guess. Could just phase through the couch and--” 

“Nope!” Wade blurted. “Dont!” 

“Do my hands feel bad?” Peter frowned. “I know you can only feel them for a few seconds before they give way, but--”

“Nope. Everything feels good.” he said through gritted teeth. “Really really good. Thank you. Move away please.” 

“Oh. Alright.” 

That night was the first night Wade shoved his pajama pants down and took himself in hand, fully prepared to jerk off to the image of big brown eyes and slim hands and those stupid long legs and the way Peters lips parted when he smiled--

---but then he felt gross over it and pulled his pants back up, throwing an arm over his eyes and willing his arousal to lessen. 

This was weird even by his standards. 

********************

It started getting more difficult for Wade to leave the apartment, knowing Peter couldn’t go with him, and the money from his mercenary days was more than enough to pay for the apartment and food so Wade ended up spending every day just... home. Watching TV, or reading, or learning how to cook more and more complex meals, with Peter reading from the recipe books and telling him stories from his life before.

Eventually, Wade started walking around the apartment with less clothes on, content with Peters constant reassurance that he didn’t care about his skin. 

“Really, I see your soul.” Peter explained one day. “I mean, yeah, I see you physically, but because our souls are on the same plane, that is more obvious to me.” 

“Besides.” his voice softened then. “You’re gorgeous, so even if I couldn’t see your soul I would stare.” 

“You’re full of shit, baby boy.” Wade rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny that it made him feel good and when Peter reached for his hand, Wade lay his palm out so Peter could bring their fingertips together, phasing in and out of being corporeal, the cool touch coming and going every few seconds. 

And when Peter finally did ask about the scars, Wade told him all about the cancer and Vanessa and Francis and his revenge, and fully expected Peter to do that adorable nose wrinkle he did when he was disgusted, but instead Peter just smiled sadly and said how sad he was that Wade had had such a hard go of it. 

“Maybe I’m happy, though.” he said cautiously. “Because if it hadn’t happened, then you wouldn’t be able to see me and Id still be here, and lonely.” 

They held hands again after that and when Wade went to bed, Peter stood on his toes (frankly, adorable, because it was such a human thing to do) and tried to kiss Wade, his lips solid for only a second before they dissipated. 

It was odd, but it was wonderful and Wade realized one day that he had gone and fucking fallen in love, and if there was ever a time to call his therapist, that would have been it. But instead he put in Patrick Swayze’s Ghost and justified that if Demi could be in love with a ghost, then so could he.

And then at some point, Peter started sleeping in bed next to him. 

Or not so much sleeping as he was lying there with his eyes closed, with one hand resting on Wade’s chest because he knew Wade slept better with someone else there. 

They never talked about it, never brought it up, just let it happen because it made them both happy. 

They also never talked about the day Wade had finally given in and gotten himself off in the shower thinking about Peter, wishing he was solid and real and then Wade could really hold him like he wanted to. Hold him and kiss him and press him into the bed and---

And when he was done, he had walked out the door to see Peter staring at him and biting his lip, cheeks flushing red, and his hands trembling a little when he reached out to touch Wade’s cheek. His fingers had seemed solid for longer that time, brushing over Wade’s rough skin sweetly, before fading again. 

It came up eventually that Peter had been reciting The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, that first day that Wade had heard him. He had read the book so many times, he had it memorized and it was the only thing that kept him from feeling lonely.

Wade ordered a Kindle that same day and uploaded as many books as he could onto it and gave it to Peter as a present, confident that he could be solid enough for the split second it could take to turn pages on the e-reader.

Peter didnt speak for a solid week after that, his nose almost pressed to the screen, lips moving as he devoured the books.

Wade woke up one morning to Peter started sleeping on his side with what was probably the cutest ass Wade had ever seen (or not seen, since it was ghostly and all that) budged up into Wade’s hips, his Kindle on the bed next to him, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“Pete?” Wade asked quietly, and the boy opened his eyes and leaned up to press a kiss to Wade’s lips, just barely there before it was gone, and then cool hands down his sides before Peter snuggled close-- or as close as he could before moving through Wade, anyway. 

“So um, men then?” Wade said awkwardly. “Or is it just because I bought you books?” 

“Men.” Peter assured him, then shyly smiled and whispered, “But really its just you, Wade.” 

***********************

“So almost a hundred years, sweet cheeks?” Wade asked and Peter nodded, drawing his fingers in idle patterns over Wade’s bare chest and down to his stomach. “Why are you stuck here?”

“I don’t know.” Peter admitted. “At first I thought it was some sort of purgatory. The first few decades I wasn’t solid at all. Just wavering there, could see through my own hands-- it was horrifying. Maybe twenty or thirty years ago I started being able to actually talk again, and now I’m physically for a few seconds at a time.” he held up his hands in explanation. “Ten seconds is about my max,  but I think being here with you is making it longer.” 

“You look tired today.” Wade said in concern. “I’ve never seen you look tired.” 

“I feel tired.” Peter complained and leaned his head against Wade’s shoulder, frowning when he phased through almost immediately. “I dont really know whats going on.” 

“Maybe your purgatory sentence is almost up.” Wade meant it to be teasing, but Peters eyes widened in fear. 

“I don’t want to die, though.” he whispered. “Im terrified of dying, Wade. I just got used to being here. What will happen to me?” 

“Oh, baby boy, I didn’t think--” Wade bit his tongue to keep from saying anything stupid. “I don’t really think--”

“I don’t want to die Wade!” Peter was panicking now. “I don’t want to leave you!” 

“Shhh, sugar buns. Its alright.” Usually the boy loved Wades names for him, and would blush and smile, but today it only set him off further. 

“No! No! I don’t want to! I like being here with you! If I go somewhere else Ill be so alone!” Peter cried. “You will be alone and I dont want that! I dont!” 

“Easy. Easy, baby boy. We will figure it out.” Wade reached for Peter, but his hands passed right through him and Peter nearly screamed when he couldnt make himself solid for ever a few seconds. 

“Wade!” 

****************

Wade didn’t quite know what to do with himself after Peter left. Or disappeared. Or poofed or whatever it was ghosts did.

It was weird-- one day he was there, and then the next day he was a little less there and then one morning Wade woke up and Peter was no where to be found. 

He hung a mirror in the hall, just in case Peter managed to find a way back, but it never happened. 

There’s wasn’t much to do without Peter to keep him company, so Wade started taking jobs again, traveling further and further from the States as he did, and the money from doing the mercenary thing was even better now that he was basically un-killable, so he took more and more jobs, amping up the danger because it was the only thing to keep him from thinking too much. 

Word got around of course, about the loud mouth Merc who didnt seem to die, and he caught the attention of the Avengers-- the too pretty to be real Tony Stark, and the slice of All American beef that was Captain America. Black Widow was fucking terrifying and Hawkeye was at least chill-- he and Wade could crack jokes behind the others back in sign language and that was fun. 

Every once in a while around the Avengers Tower Wade caught sight of an intern with thick brown hair and long legs and he always stopped himself from going after the kid. 

The intern couldn’t help that he looked like the ghost Wade had fallen in love with twenty years ago. 

(That was a weird sentence, even in Wade’s head.)

But then-- then-- Wade met Spiderman and was instantly in love. 

The kid was smart mouthed and sassy and fucking bendy and he flew through the air like he was on a damn trapeze and Wade loved it. Spidey teased him and wrestled with him and spent nights eating burritos back to back so they didn’t accidentally see each others face and it was the first time in a long time that Wade felt something close to normal.

“So you gonna bless me with your name, or should I start giving you nicknames?” Wade asked one night as they scarfed down chinese food. “I mean, I did save your life tonight. I think you owe me at least that much.” 

“At least my name?” Spidey snorted. “The hell you do.”  

“Have it your way, baby boy.” Wade said nonchalantly, and was surprised to realize that saying the nickname still made his chest tighten and his heart hurt a little bit.

He wouldn’t ever be over that ghost, would he?

“Spidey?” he asked, when the kid didn’t say anything. 

“Um. You could tell me your name?” The words were a little muffled, as if Spidey had pulled his mask back down. 

“Wade.” he said instantly. “You can call me Wade, or sir, or daddy, or whatever--ooph!” 

Wade fell over when the solid pressure of Spidey at his back disappeared, and he turned just in time to see the kid web off the roof and out into the dark. 

“Rude.” he sighed. “Kids these days.” 

******************************

Wade had never moved from his apartment. Partly for the sentiment, partly because he never really quit hoping Peter would come back, partly because he was too fucking lazy to move. 

But the building had all but been abandoned now, not the upscale apartments it had been thirty years ago, and Wade had most of the tenth floor to himself, which made it completely unexpected and fairly weird that someone knocked on his door sometime close to three am. 

“Who the fuck--?” he groaned and pulled himself out of bed, foregoing his mask because the only people around this time of night were cops or druggies and he had no problem shocking either of them. He had been dreaming about Peter again, and wondered irritably when that lovely habit would stop. It had been almost twenty five years at this point. 

Enough was enough. He was tired of feeling heart broken after all this fucking time. 

More knocking at his door and Wade dragged on a pair of pants and stomped towards the hallway. 

“What the fuck do you want?” he ripped his door open. “Who the hell-- Spidey?” he glanced down the empty hallway then back at the web slinger in front of him. “What are you doing here?” 

“Wade?” Spidey asked hesitantly, and the soft voice was so achingly close to Peter that Wade almost shut the door in his face. 

“Yeah.” Wade nodded, then motioned to his face. “Surprise. Sorry. What do you want? Usually Id be down for some Spider Booty but, baby boy its been a hell of a night so maybe you should--” 

“Wade.” Again, just as soft, and Spidey pulled his mask off right there in the hallway to stare up at him. “I cant believe you still live here.” 

Wade blinked down at him, down at Peter--

--and promptly shut the door. 

Then he nearly tore it off his hinges opening it again, and asked, “If I try to shoot you, will you bleed?” 

“Like a bitch.” Peter nodded and started laughing, even as tears slid down his cheeks. “I cant believe I didnt realize it was you all this time. I mean, I thought it was you, but I never knew your name, and you never took off your mask and then you called me baby boy and--” 

He lunged forward like he wanted to kiss him, and Wade put a hand up to stop him. “Explain.” he demanded. “Right now.” 

“After I--poofed?” Peter offered. “I um... I was born. My soul was recycled or whatever, and I kept having flashes back to my other life and my time as a ghost and when I met you they started to get worse and then tonight you told me your name and its like all these memories came crashing back and--”

“You are talking really fast.” Wade pointed out, and Peter blushed and bit at his lip. 

“Sorry. I just-- I cant believe-- did you know it was me?” 

“Do I look like I knew it was you?” 

“Its me.” Peter nodded his head and reached for Wade’s hand to bring it to his cheek. “It’s me. I promise. I don’t understand why or how or anything like that, but Im right here. Im really here. You aren’t crazy.” 

He hesitated, twisted his mask in his hand anxiously. “Can you-- can you see me?” 

“Yeah baby boy.” Wade brought his other hand up to frame Peters face, rubbing his thumbs through the tears. “Yeah, I see you.” 

**********************************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

READ PART TWO!

[haepipillbud]

3/5/21 12:33am

i’m not okay

for the past weeks, I’ve been fine. i’m myself again. cooking while dancing, listening to kpop, making tiktoks. i was with my friends, it was good.

but for some reason lately, i’ve felt nothing but.... emptyness

and honestly it has something to do with him again. but mostly its because of what I see around me.

I joined a small picnic with some of my friends the other day and even though I was surrounded by all of them I felt so left out. two of them were in a relationship and Im extremely happy for them and i love them to death but I can’t help but be jealous of them. the others were just conversing with each other and for some who we haven’t seen in so long, they seem really close still with everybody else.

I’m also a part of many group chats. I always message and interact but their interactions always seem more... to each other rather than the whole group. i feel left out again. they’d talk about their other friends or experiences and some would already know and others have an idea. 

with regards to him i’ve been lessening contact... if that’s what you call lessening. but there was a day last week where I finally ran out of what to say to him. it gave me some time to think what the hell am I doing?

I grew up alone. In a world full of adults who expect you to listen to their every rule and teachings. I had friends in school but even with them I’m not their only friend. I have a high school classmate I’m in touch with and I found out through her IG that she’s been facetiming with our other friend. we were a Trio. seeing them do that....I couldn’t help but get hurt. beyond the school walls... I’m forgotten by them. not unless I reach out. some classmates are still best friends, even traveled together before the pandemic. even my college friends are more intact to each other than they are to me. I should’ve known. the closest I got to a friend like that is also battling her own internal wars so I don’t think I’m much help to her.. 

It wasn’t until I turned 19 that I gained friends that I believe will be lifelong. 19 years. Can you imagine what it was like? Being a kid who had no exposure to kids my age for long periods of time, with no exposure to more things, talents and life experiences. It was so lonely so even now, any instance that I’m alone, it feels the same.

I recently was relieved from a very short relationship. I have gotten over the person. Believe me I have because every time I see any romantic thing now, instead of thinking of him I’m excited for the future and sometimes when I end up tearing up about him, it doesnt’ last more than a second but the feeling is what I missed. Although before I thought it was the romantic feeling, it was the very close friendship. For a short period of time he was not just my boyfriend but my bestest friend. He started the greetings, the kwentos, the checking ins. Maybe that’s why I said he was enough for me because all this time he’s been doing what I’d hope my best friend would do. He may not have been the perfect boyfriend but he was the perfect bestfriend. We still converse but I really miss the closeness. I can’t expect that from him anymore. It’s unfair and like he would say it’s weird. Even though he says we’re still best friends.

But a best friend for me is more than just being there for each other ONLY when you need each other. It’s being the ride or die. It’s knowing by just looking at the other that they’re not okay. It’s the calling when the other is asleep and it’ll be okay because they really need you. It’s the inviting to each others houses to just chill. It’s sucking up to the parents so they’’ll like them and they can stay best friends. It’s being worried that they’re being too quiet so you panic when they don’t say it. It’s the “hey I’m ordering food. want in?” It’s the random stories, pictures, videos that would probably make the other persons day and make their friendship stronger. It’s the knowing when they need space but leaves notes or assurance. It’s when you call crying they just keep quiet and wait patiently for you to say anything or fall asleep. It’s where they stalk any love interest you have to make sure they’re good for you. It’s defending you for the shit you did but also lecture you lowkey. It’s where they know what each other likes and dislikes. It’s the ‘hey I got u something I’m sending it over.” Its’ the type where, if one perishes the other knows every password and where their will is stashed or what they want done after the death. 

It’s the bond. It’s the thought. It’s the understanding between two people. Maybe as soulmates but not enough to be lovers. 

I’m crying as I write. I’m so jealous of my friends who have that. Every time I think about it now my heart breaks more. If there’s any left. 

I remember in the movie Bride Wars “the one person who you’d spend the rest of your life with may not be a spouse.” 

If anyone’s reading this and says it’s probably the pandemic feels, no. You have no idea what it’s like in my family, my house. I’m not at home. If you also think that you are what I’m talking about, no. I know myself so well to know I’ve NEVER had a connection, a bond like that. If you think I’m still not over my ex, please. please. I’ve thought about this for so long. Sober and no PMS. I know what I’m feeling and it’s not missing him. 

Maybe it’s just right that I’m not in a relationship because honestly it’s not what I want. It’s just a bond. A special connection. Writing this now I’ve realized for so many years, my friendship has been manipulated, taken advantaged of and forgotten. Every effort I put into those broke my heart in a way you can’t imagine. 

If you’re reading this and feel guilty or obliged to do what I just described then honestly, I won’t think it’s genuine. Please just. Be genuine. 

It may sound petty but I really wanna be sad over this. Until I have it. 

Which may never come. But only I will know. 

I grew up alone and maybe it should stay that way. 

[indieks]

Not So Randomly | Part 1/5

🌟 Pairing : Im Changkyun (I.M) x Reader

🌟 Genre : Fluff, Angst

🌟 Word count : 6.3k

🌟 Synopsis : Whenever you cross the path of Im Changkyun, that guy you hate and that hates you, it seems to be the worst day of your life. But, strangely enough, it also becomes the best and most accurate of moments you've ever had. So, the more you randomly end up stucked with each other, the more a question can arise : is it really chance that has something against you, or is it serendipity that drives you one towards the other?

Next Part

🌟 A/N : I know, summer is over, and we all have to go back to school or to work… that’s why I decided to post these series that start right during summer school break and continue at the uni! I’m still not sure in how many parts I’m going to divide it, I’ll see along the way and update it soon!

After my first post for BTS’ Suga, I also wanted to show that I will write for other groups and other wonderful people such as… I.M hehehehe 😏

Anyway, above all, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it! ♥

Disclaimer : any gifs or images used, even edited, are not mine and belong to their rightful owners!

***

  Summer. One word that made the kids at school go crazy while waiting for the last bell to ring, the teenagers and young adults go to the gym to tone their bodies or look for a job to spare money for some wild travel, and the parents worried for their wallets because of their need to book something far away from home so that they'll forget their workaholic life. But for you, it was one word that oddly gave you chills in spite of the heat it brought on.

It hadn't always been like that, no ; that gloomy feeling you had came when you turned fifteen. The same year you blew that additional candle, your parents asked for your help at work during the sunny season instead of sending you on vacation. They were selling food products, your mom holding a grocery shop from Mondays to Fridays, before joining your father on the weekends who was vending them at the marketplaces in the capital and its whereabouts. And when July came, they closed the shop to go from market to market, morning after morning and night after night, with you accompanying them occasionally. But most of the time, as they worked hard without a real break, you used to enjoy your holidays by going to your friends' rents, or to your grandparents' little but cozy houses further from your home.

You used to love the different markets you went to. You used to love their various scents, their joyful sellers, and the cheap or luxurious stuff they were full of. You used to lose yourself in the alleys of those big places to taste everything, to admire each pearl incrusted in the jewelries, each drawing on kitchen supplies and decorations, each sewing on leather bags and fabrics, before going back to your parents at noon.

However, that was before your fifteenth summer, when you had to wake up at 4 or 5 in the morning to set up the equipment and organize the presentation of the food, then shout the whole morning to catch the attention of clients, sometimes pack up things without messing up – which had happened to you numerous times because of nervousness –, and do it all over again at nighttime. Nevertheless, you still did the job without complaining, not denying how much effort it implied and how legit it was for your parents to ask for an additional pair of hands. But you couldn't say you were waiting for the end of the first half of the year to come with as much impatience as other students anymore.

This eighteenth summer should be different though. Your parents had decided to extend their commerce to Busan, and to take you with them. Even if the reason you were here in the first place wasn't the sea and sunbathing, but the gigantic covered market where you were going to sell products for the season, you were satisfied with the idea of being close to wild water, already dreaming of spending your afternoons on the beach before getting back to work, just to have the feeling of holidays you haven't really had for three years. But what made you even more excited, was that it was probably the last time you were ever going to follow this scheme, as next year college life and a whole new independence was waiting for you, without a doubt implying a new summer schedule with friends, far away from your parents and your responsibilities as a daughter.

A sweet vacation house had waited for you during 9 long months, as well as the amount of work that now tired you just by thinking of it, but you felt at ease while you were unpacking in your bedroom facing the sea, the thud of waves inciting you to take a step back and focus on the goods of being here. But as the first week went by, your alarm almost making your ear-drums bleed every time it rang loudly in the early and still dark morning, your positive mind and attitude were now clearly missing.

And if you had thought that having your days completely out of sync with the rest of people and not being able to properly visit Busan was sufficient to ruin your mood, as your sleepy-self consumed its vacant afternoon in bed instead of outside on the sand like you had pictured or maybe making some friends, it was until you met Im Changkyun. Until the second week you had been there, when your parents sent you to help that old lady who needed more hands at her stand than them who were still handling their own with skill.

You were nervous on your first day behind a stand with a stranger, despite the granny was lovely and was doing everything to make you comfortable, but being in an unknown city, an unknown market and without the pillar that were your parents, made you feel uneasy even more. Your hands were trembling as you were placing the bins containing the ingredients she sold and used for cooking delicious fried meals, and her popularity wasn't helping ; there wasn't a time when you could take a rest, people coming and going like crazy even in the first hours of the opening.

It was almost the end of your service when he showed up, or more precisely, when you accidentally bumped into him and dumped some sauce from your tub on his white tank top. The shock made him drop the carton he was carrying, full of porcelain kitchenware, some of them escaping their prison to explode on the floor, making a loud sound that drawn the attention of all the customers around. You had been walking too fast, coming from the small van parked behind the market where the grandma had food supplies she had pressed you to bring as you were almost running out of it.

"Fffffuuuuuck", the boy suddenly said, his voice low and deep but without a doubt laced with anger.

You were ashamed and panicked, the broken pieces of white plates laughing at you as you started to pick them up, quiet sorrys slipping out of your mouth.

"Don't you watch where you go?" he asked you and you finally stood up to look at him straight in the eye.

You didn't have the chance to meet pretty boys since you had arrived in town, it was not like they would come to the market in the morning if it meant giving up their sleep time, nor at night as they probably preferred street or fast food to your parent's fresh vegetables and kimchi. Except for this boy, who was confronting you right now, but sadly in this kind of situation that was making your cheeks burn of embarrassment and your heart fighting with your ribcage. Indeed, he had really nice looks, with the bangs of his light brown hair falling on his brows and eyes, an oval face with sharp eyes that killed you the instant you dared to greet him a timid smile, a long nose that seemed to have been carved in stone, and small lips that could create a smirk which you'll soon crave to smack him for.

"I'm really really sorry, I was in a hurry and I didn't see you, how can I-"

"Save it, let's go to my mother, you owe her your excuses" he cut you, grabbing the box again and pushing you with his wide shoulder when he passed you, silently inviting – or more like ordering – you to follow him.

With hands even more shaking than a few moments ago, you took your box and went to the granny's stand to excuse yourself, her gentle smile and reassuring comments about the incident soothing you instantly, but when you turned around and saw him darting his eyes at you while waiting, your blood froze in your body as your footsteps guided you to him without asking. The more you walked, the more the path seemed familiar to you, and you gasped when he stopped in front of a woman you recognized immediately. She was the beautiful lady at the stand right next to your parents', selling products she was cooking live as well as… kitchenware she probably had painted on herself. Beautiful kitchenware you just broke. You felt a new amount of shame piling upon the heap that already had bubbled inside of you when you captured the curious gazes of your parents seeing you coming back to them before 1 pm.

"Hey mom, I'm sorry but that girl bumped into me earlier and broke some of your plates" the boy stated while presenting the box to the lady who stopped what she was doing to take it calmly.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" your mother exclaimed, feeling even sorrier than you as you were supposed to ensure them a good image at the market by helping the granny, not creating a mess on the eighth day of your fresh arrival.

"It's okay! I have plenty of those, it can happen! Changkyun-ah, I hope you weren't rude to her, were you?" the woman said while smiling at you, signaling you to come close to her and you just did, your head hung low. "You didn't hurt yourself? Are you ok?" she asked as she was examining your hands.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm really sorry, can I do something-"

"It's nothing Y/N. I had plenty of accidents when I was your age, don't worry" she eased you, your hands still in her beautiful and delicate ones. "I saw how you work when you were helping your parents last week, you are really devoted so you must have been too concentrated and didn't see my son! Where did you tell me she was helping?"

"With Mrs. Ahn" your father answered and you straightened yourself to see her smile at you.

"Changkyun, I know how bored you are when you're with me so how about you help Mrs. Ahn too? I'm sure Y/N is overworked by herself, you could help instead of doing nothing at home."

"No no no that's okay really" you quickly interfered, feeling embarrassed as you heard his grunt of annoyance.

If you could avoid being a burden and making him angry at you for having ruined his summer in addition of his clothes, you were willing to work even harder to prove you didn't need his help.

"Mom, I have friends to meet and things to do, I'm on holidays! Why are you doing this to me seriously?" he protested and you finally looked over your shoulder to see him standing in a nonchalant pose, his hands deep in the pockets of his black jogging while the red stain of hot sauce on his top was drying and turning brown.

"I'm tired of you doing nothing, it's just for the mornings and sometimes at night, you'll have plenty of time to hang with your friends! I'm pretty sure there are heavy bins to carry or ingredients to cut and your hands will be of great help so stop nagging, you're 18 years-old now you should work a little!" she grumbled before smiling at you who were still frozen in your wish to disappear into the ground.

"At 18 years-old I… I should enjoy my life mom! Before working till I get old, you know? That's why I enjoy not doing anything for the time I have left!"

His dramatic tone almost made you chuckle but you couldn't allow yourself to, or else he would have murdered you the instant you'd been left alone without your parents to witness.

"Cut your nonsense son, or do you want me to tell your dad you're ok to work with him at the company till the end of holidays? And it's going to be a full-time job this time!"

Changkyun rolled his eyes back and sighed, finally giving up – not without mumbling a few bad words to himself in the process – and he gave you the exact look you feared he would have, the one that told you he would hate you for the rest of his life, the one that should have warned you that everything would only get worse after this first disastrous encounter.

   ***

  The next morning, you were still fighting with the tiredness in your eyes as the anxiety of meeting Changkyun again had kept you up all night. You were debating with your inner self about whether you should excuse yourself one last time, or remain silent and leave him alone, but you still hadn't come up with an answer when he arrived around 7 am, a grey hoodie on as well as a pair of destroyed jeans. He was really attractive, even with his morning face and small bags under his eyes, even when he shot you his deadly look, even when he messed up his hair by putting his hand in it in frustration.

"Hello ma'am, I'm here to help, I'm the son of Mrs. Im" he said with his deep voice, even deeper as he woke up not too long ago.

He showed off his cocky demeanor as he didn't even greet you and made his way behind the big table you were occupied at preparing, placing nicely the cooked and marinated products.

"My mother and yours are sympathizing right now, but that doesn't mean we're going to be friends, or whatever", he suddenly said to your attention and you gave him a quick look to discover that his eyes weren't even bothering to acknowledge you. "They want me to spend some time with you, your mom said that you're bored the rest of the day and have no friends here, but let me be clear : I have other things to do than to carry a burden around during my free time, most of all a clumsy girl. You ruined my summer y'know that?"

His gaze from the day before should have warned you, but you still were slapped violently by the hands of shock when he spat these words with spitefulness. You did bump into him and create a regretful situation, but you did not grow his mom's idea into her head… Did you?

"I'm here to help the old lady so that my mother leaves me alone, I'm not here for you, don't make up any ideas, got it?" he added with a monotone voice and you looked up at him as he was finally landing his deep brown eyes on you, but without a glimpse of life in them.

"Don't worry, I don't need your help. Sorry if my mom has bothered you", you simply answered, quickly going back to what you were doing to hide the mix of anger and embarrassment that was burning your reddening cheeks.

You had hoped that he would not pay any attention to you, not that he would make you pay, but his saltiness and rudeness were more on point than what any human being could imagine : starting from his first day next to you, he didn't miss any chance to make his presence unbearable. He pointed every wrong move you made and grumbled every time he did, pretending to be an expert as he had accompanied his mother more than once to this marketplace ; he greeted cheerfully clients when he was serving them but never failed to play the poker face with you, while the old lady did not hear or see any of this electric situation, simply happy that two lovely teenagers had volunteered to help ; he let you do most of the work, playing stupid games on his phone or pretending to be unpacking and cutting the ingredients to cook but taking never-ending time in doing so. You weren't the type to hate on people but Changkyun had made himself odious, so much that even his looks couldn't save him anymore, as the only sight of him made you angry. Quickly, your guilt disappeared in limbo like your positive mind had done a week ago, as you came to wish you had dumped every single bit of the sauce right on his head.

Like that, your relationship – if you could name the poor exchanges you had a relationship – became him nagging you and you nagging him, your discussions restricted by the vocabulary of disrespect and sarcasm, even if you still played the role of good kids once you returned to your mothers, pretending to leave to spend some good time together at the beach although you parted ways after plotting the story you would both tell your parents to be credible. If you were being honest, you enjoyed being alone and his company wasn't necessary to make you happy. He was just your perfect excuse to escape being with your parents during all your free time and wander in Busan's streets or maybe finally feel the sand of the beach or the cold of sea waves like you had been craving to do.

However, only a week had gone by and it had seemed like an eternity. You were already exhausted by this tensed situation you were plunged into each morning you stepped into the market, and instead of taking a walk once you were done with work like you had planned to, you still pursued your routine of going to sleep. What pissed you even more was that above all, you found him beautiful although he was being the most experienced asshole in the world with you. You found him beautiful when he looked annoyed – which was most of the time –, you found him beautiful when his brows furrowed, you found him beautiful when his tone went under the one of a vault, and you found him beautiful in each one of his outfits that were supposed to be picked up carelessly but suited him nonetheless – even with the ridiculous apron you had to wear. 

You choked yourself mentally every time you landed your eyes on him with too much attention, printing the image of his handsome profile with his sharp nose in your brain, and with even more vigor when you felt thrilled at the sight of the smile he never greeted you but that was pretty as hell. Hell, yes, because that guy was the devil itself, never failing to throw away his fake angel looks when there was only the two of you to spit venom and burn you with his bashful words.

Still, you couldn't be thankful enough for the shell you've been living in since you were little, not letting others reach your emotions easily and hurt you the way Changkyun could have done to a more sensible person. You were also proud of your ability to ignore him and to fight back, your fiery conversations not lasting long or almost making you laugh when you triumphed at making him shut up or annoyed. As tiring as it was for your nerves, you could have dealt quietly with it like you always had, if chance hadn't decided to go in your way and add oil to the fire pit Changkyun and you were battling in. 

Indeed, by the third week of July, you finally found the courage to furrow the streets of the city and to enjoy the little time you had to yourself instead of dying in your bedroom. But a few hours after you had parted ways with Changkyun, hoping not to see each other until the next morning, you ended up meeting each other by pure coincidence.

The first time, you were walking on the promenade with the marine wind in your hair, listening to your music and overall floating in your bubble, when you saw him arriving in front of you, surrounded by five other guys who were laughing cheerfully. He stopped and so you did, rolling your eyes at the same time and you immediately turned on your heels to flee the crime scene that would have occurred if he had opened his mouth in front of his friends, without a doubt feeling full of confidence to bash you in their presence. Weirdly though, your heart skipped a bit at the sight of his wet and sandy hair fighting against the breeze and of his naked torso, broad and outlined, telling you he had just dipped into the sea minutes ago. However, the absence of eyes in the back of your head prevented you from seeing how he only stared at you without breathing, at your hair shining under the sun, at your bare legs revealed by your high waisted shorts that married perfectly your curves, at your determined gait taking you far away from him ; he lost himself at your sight so bad that one of his friends had to nudge his side for him to stop ogling you any longer.

The second time, you had decided to escape the sea after seeing him the day before, so you randomly took some lovely streets, entering some boutiques and offering yourself some new clothes, simply loving your me-time. Until you came across his figure in a park you had chosen to enter into, the blossoming trees and the sight of a kiosk seducing your eyes and heart. 

Changkyun was sitting on a bench under a tree with the same friends you had quickly seen, eating some snacks as they were chatting and laughing, and this time your heart didn't miss a beat, no, it quickened its pace to the point you thought you would die. He was wearing a white long sleeved shirt with black jeans and sneakers, and a white cap was covering his greyish-brown hair parting in two on his forehead. Again, his face looked as tired as yours must have been with your early morning activities, but he still was gorgeous, even more because he wasn't wearing that jaded mask he had with you. You hesitated to turn around and go somewhere else as he didn't see you yet, but by the time you were reaching a decision, he was already looking at you and even walking in your direction, his traits again as hard as ever.

"Are you following me or what?" he said in a hushed voice.

"What? I'm not!" you exclaimed but the apparent blush of your cheeks and your elusive pupils made him believe the contrary.

"Then what are you doing here? Busan is big you know, how come we meet today as well? Last week I didn't see you at all!"

"What's wrong Changkyun?" asked one of his friends behind his back, standing on his feet and revealing his tall and imposing figure, but his cute face when his lips curved into a smile helped you staying calm.

"Nothing hyung, she's the girl I'm working with and I think she's followed me here" Changkyun answered with a clearer tone, and for the first time he addressed you a smile, but it was full of slyness.

"I didn't, I'm just visiting, I stayed at home last week that's why you didn't see me, now if you don't mind I'll go" you answered, your irritation apparent in your voice as you passed him and quickly greeted his friends with a small bow before storming to the kiosk to hide yourself forever.

Your body was clearly expressing the effect the boy had on you when you saw him under other circumstances than the marketplace : your hands were wet, your heart crazy, and your legs were going to abandon their functions if you didn't sit down in the following seconds. Why the hell am I feeling like that? He's handsome, yes, but he's just a bugger!

"Why didn't you invite her to hang out with us? She's cute" asked the most muscular of the group, once you were out of sight.

"I don't like her, she's annoying and childish, and I have to work because of her clumsy ass remember" Changkyun explained, sitting down angrily on the bench before taking off his cap as he also had started to feel sweat forming on his forehead since he had seen you.

   ***

   You swore Busan couldn't have felt any tinier, because you didn't understand how in the world you could randomly meet your summer enemy everywhere you went to in the city. Today was a Thursday, the sun was up in the sky and you had wished to at least soak your feet in the blue sea, and maybe enjoy a cocktail in a café-bar which had drawn your attention a few days ago, with its youngster-surfer vibe and its simple but appetizing menu. The barman also wasn't unpleasant, but you hushed your girly silliness as you entered around 4 pm, your hair wet after you finally had taken a sea bath and tried to get your pale skin to brown a little.

You hadn't gone further than the market surroundings for a week after the two times you had met Changkyun, too scared to tempt the chance that seemed to be coming after you, and because he hadn't forgot the next morning to tell you rudely not to follow him, to what you had answered he was too full of himself and that he should fuck off. However, with the beautiful weather on this Thursday, without a cloud to be seen, you couldn't hide yourself anymore and decided not to care about how Changkyun would react if you came across each other again.

You should have known better, that you weren't lucky enough to defy chance, fate, or whatever had chosen you to play with. You were sipping on your fruity cocktail silently, sitting on the terrace that had a nice view of the promenade full of trees and flowers and of the beach only a few meters away, when you saw him through your sunglasses. You almost whined of annoyance, on the verge of going crazy about how he seemed to be like a ghost haunting you since last week. Once again, his hair was wet and curling a little, with its silver glints revealed by the sun, while he had switched his lazy outfit from the morning with a pair of jeans shorts and a white top under a grey cardigan.

He was with the same group of guys as the previous times, who were really loud and happy, and when he was about to make his way to the bar, Changkyun stopped in his tracks as he acknowledged your presence, his face falling into some unreadable expression, probably because he was as taken aback as you by the way you constantly met. To elude any suspicions, he quickly followed his mates who were cheerfully greeting the pretty barman – Kihyun if you had read his name well.

Obviously, a nice weather implied drinking outside with the seaside breeze, and you found yourself facing the table of the boys who finally noticed you, giving both Changkyun and you curious looks before one of them found a subject of conversation to distract themselves. During the first ten minutes, you felt his sharp eyes on you, with his chin a bit raised, giving him this bad boy aura he was always seeking in front of you and that made your heart weak despite all the hate you had for him. He suddenly got out of his vest, revealing his arms under the rolled sleeves of his T-Shirt, and then he placed the side of his face in the palm of his hand, his pupils never quitting your frame in the process. Again, cold sweat and chills : again, tachycardia ; again, numb legs.

Soon enough though, a bunch of girls passed by and greeted the band, staying up next to their table, and it finally grasped Changkyun's attention, freeing you from your unexplained sensations. You couldn't prevent your gaze to go back and forth between the sea and his group, hiding behind your sunglasses, to observe their affinities – maybe he has a girlfriend? Now that you came to think of it for the second time, even if you had been with one another for now almost three weeks, you knew nothing about each other. The first time was a few nights ago, when your father had asked you this question during dinner :

"So what about Changkyun? What kind of boy is he? How come you never talk about him! With all the time you spend together and the things you do, you must have a strong bond by now, don't you? It's true that we get pretty attached to our summer friends in no time!"

You had stayed quiet for a few seconds, building something to come up with as you had faced the truth : you didn't know a single thing about him, what he liked and what he didn't, his friends, his passions, his ambitions, and you surely didn't have his number nor any of his social networks' accounts. As you had looked through your memories quickly, all you could have pointed at was him listening to some rap music in his headphones early in the morning while you were installing, or him having a great appetite when it came to eat the meals the granny offered you, or him playing RPG games on his phone whenever he had the time, or him meeting these hyungs to hang out once you were done with your morning service, but that was all. In some way though, that was also enough to tell you you've been observing him with way too much attention, some attention he shouldn't get in the first place, and realizing it had tensed you. Changkyun and you were just enemies of circumstances, living up a lie in front of your parents that didn't take the time to look through it and never grabbed the chance to uncloak you just by asking you this exact question about each other's well-being or tastes.

"Hummm… I… We're not really talkative, you know, so… Yeah, he's nice to hang out with" you had mumbled before taking a long sip in your cup of water.

"He's such a charming boy" your mother had commented, and you had hidden your need to puke at how this adjective sounded awful in your ears. "I'm amazed at how everything goes well between you and for your last summer like this. I didn't think this would happen! He sure will be a good friend, that's beautiful sweetheart."

These outings are what never happened, mom, you had wanted to answer, but you had only looked down at your plate and wrongfully nodded in agreement, regretting to be lying to your parents since so long but too deep in it for you to get out. This whole comedy was a pure joke to you, something you didn't take too seriously to feel really guilty as the life or death of the boy mattered to you as much as one of a fly. At least, you convinced yourself so, somehow perfectly aware of the weird feelings you were getting because of him from time to time, when you really looked at him, or when, like at this exact moment, you met him by coincidence outside the market, discovering another Changkyun, a lively one, a smiling one, an apparently funny one as he made everyone at his table laugh with his derp faces or his comments you couldn't hear.

"Kkukkungiiiiiie, are you coming to the party next Friday?"

The voice of a girl shook you out of your thoughts, and you caught the annoyed eyes of Changkyun going straight in your direction, over the shoulder of the model-looking boy of the team who had his back facing you. You didn't hold back your quiet laugh to make him feel ridiculous. Kkukkungie? Seriously? The boy rolled his eyes, clearly pissed that you had heard that somehow cute but most of all silly nickname, and this time his angry look didn't stop you from smiling as you were making fun of him. Not too long after, the girls were gone, their laughs still tinting in your ear-drums like birds singing too happily, and that was when the pretty barman came to serve you the dessert you had ordered as your afternoon snack, a key lime pie. You suddenly felt shy when he engaged the conversation :

"Are you here alone for holidays?"

His voice was really calm and sweet, like the bright smile he gave you that almost closed his eyes in a cute way.

"Oh uh… No, I'm here to help my parents at the market" you answered, smiling back.

"Oh I see! I'm Kihyun by the way, you are?"

"Y/N."

He offered you his hand and you shook it gently, before taking it back to your lap.

"So where are you from?" he asked again.

"Seoul! But I really love it here" you admitted, surprising yourself as you let the words roll through your tongue instead of cutting off the discussion.

Changkyun was observing you from behind, his brows furrowed as he saw one of his hyungs talking to you, but even more when the latter turned back and shouted :

"Ya guys! She's new here and all alone and you didn't even invite her at your table! What kind of gentlemen are you seriously, you're making me feel ashamed!"

Once again, you wanted to kill yourself for dragging people involuntarily into your situation and forcing them to hang out with you, first Changkyun at the old lady's stand, now all of his friends that were staring at you. You were shaking your head from left to right to express that everything was really fine but it was too late :

"Ohhhh but she's the girl Changkyun is working with! Sure, come and join us!" one of them exclaimed as if he hadn't seen you before when he clearly had, making it even more awkward.

However, when Kihyun nodded his head in their direction while smiling at you, you realized you had no other choice but to do as you were told, being polite and appreciative when all you wanted to do was to run away from this place and quickly. Remind me why did I go near the sea again?

"Hi, I'm Jooheon" said the one who had just invited you and when he smiled, two deep dimples appeared on his chubby cheeks, making him a ray of sun in an instant. His hair was chocolate brown and slicked back on his head, and he had even sharper eyes than Changkyun.

You sat down next to him where an empty spot seemed to have waited for you, and introduced yourself back, waiting for the others to do the same. On your left was sitting the model-boy, with his dark hair and his tall but slim frame, whose name you now knew was Hyungwon ; Shownu, the tall and massive boy who had interfered the last time, had short brown hair and tanned skin ; the one named Hoseok had his hair bleached and prominent muscles ; and finally, Minhyuk, who also had brown hair, smiled at you and seemed to be the most talkative and excited of the band as his introduction was the longest. Overall, they were guys with enjoyable looks and fashion styles, but to your great despair, not even one beat the handsomeness of Changkyun in your eyes. Quickly, Minhyuk made you talk and you did your best to forget the presence of your market partner, almost enjoying how the whole situation was annoying him as you saw his leg jump up and down since you sat at his table.

"Why didn't you introduce us to her earlier Changkyun-ah? She's really fun" Jooheon said as if he was outraged and you smiled in victory, defying the designated one who was, for the first time, avoiding your gaze as his eyes were drifting to the sea, his brows knotting and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

"I already told you hyung, she's not my friend so there's no reason for you to be" he hummed between gritted teeth, his head still turned away from you.

"You don't get to decide who we hang out with you brat!" protested Minhyuk before he slapped his shoulder. "Hey Y/N, why don't you come to my pool party next Friday?"

You weren't against having a little fun, and you didn't need to stay with them all night ; maybe you would meet some other really nice people and could avoid Changkyun. After all, you deserved at least one party for this summer, and maybe it was the only opportunity you'll ever have before going back to work and hiding yourself in Busan’s streets with the hopes of not getting surprised by Changkyun’s ghost-like appearances like you had another time today. The boy had finally turned his body towards you and was looking at you with daring eyes, but you couldn't care even less. He had been the one who had started to build your hateful relationship even if his anger had been legit at the beginning, but you were not going to give him some satisfaction by avoiding having some fun.

"Yeah, sure, thank you! I've been dying to go out!"

The boys whooped in satisfaction while the jaw of Changkyun dropped, showing he wasn't expecting your boldness, but anyway, he still had to deal with it.

    To be continued...

 A/N : I’ll try to update Part 2 in a few days! Thank you again for reading... Any comments good or bad are welcomed as usual!