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quokkacore · 4 years ago

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with great power I [lee jeno]

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

pairing: lee jeno x reader

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

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

main masterlist // story masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM]

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

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

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

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

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

[7:52 AM]

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear

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

y/n: also ur literally never late

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

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

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

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

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

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

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

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

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

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

[7:57 AM]

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

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

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

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

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

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

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

“The Bachelor?”

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

“Ah. I see.”

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uh… ran a little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you.

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

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

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like her, Yeeun.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

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

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

“Fuck you, Huang.”

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

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

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

"San Choi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming!” San yelled back.

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

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

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

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

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

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

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

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

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

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

When you talk right to me

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving

You running back to me

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

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

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

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

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

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

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

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

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

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you left your keys."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed.

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

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

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped.

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

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

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

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

“Hand it over, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:36 PM]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs @crescentjen

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

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lunabonita · 4 years ago

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My Webtoon Recommendations

These are webtoons that are all 10/10 for me. Of course it doesn’t have to be a 10/10 for you, so just a reminder, do not attack me for liking a webtoon that you do not. These are my opinions and we are not going to have the exact same taste. Please be respectful.

Your Throne

Genre: Fantasy

Chapters: 75

Status: Ongoing

“Tensions are brewing under the seemingly calm surface of the Vasilios Empire, a kingdom ruled by the Imperial Family and the Temple. Lady Medea Solon has lost her place next to Crown Prince Eros, but resolves to win back whats rightfully hers. Will she reclaim her throne?”

You know whats amazing about this webtoon? The summary leads you to think that what shes winning back is the prince. Wrong. Shes trying to win back the throne. I love how this webtoon doesn’t try to make it a girl focusing her goals on a man, but on power. Medea is such a strong and well written character that you can’t help but love her.

The second protagonist Pschye, who of which is the person who took Medeas place as Crown Princess, is the complete opposite of Medea. At the beginning you hate her, but as the webtoon goes on and Medea and her get a better understanding of eachother due to them switching bodies as a wish from God, you begin to root for them as they team up to take over the throne from the Crown Prince.

The art is so beautiful and I constantly found myself at awe from the amount of detail put into it.

The Makeup Remover

Genre: Romace

Chapters: 78

Status: Ongoing

“After years of being told to focus on studying, Yeseul feels lost when she starts college and is suddenly expected to pay attention to makeup. When a chance encounter with brilliant makeup artist Yuseong leads to her taking part in a televised makeup competition, Yeseul begins to question the role that makeup and appearance play in society.”

This was created by one of my favorite webtoon creators Lee Yone. Their art is just so amazing and their stories always include such good topics.

For instance, The Makeup Remover’s theme is loving yourself for who you are. It shows how people treat you based on your looks and as someone whos struggled with that kind of thing for a while, this webtoon really touched me. The main character Yeseul is such a relatable character, even when trying to reject beauty standards, she still came subject to the pressures of living up to the people around her. She struggles with trying to love her own appearance and I really like that this webtoon didn’t try to be like, ‘fuck the beauty standard im better than that screw pretty people!!!’ it actually showed realistically how people struggle with self-image. I also love the main love interest because oh my god, we need more men like him please. He doesn’t care about Yeseul’s appearance and genuinely loves her for her personality.

Also, art is amazing. The author is so talented and you should support them by reading and liking the chapters.

Surviving Romance

Genre: Horror

Chapters: 14

Status: Ongoing

“When Chaerin Eun becomes the protagonist of the romance novel she is reading, she expects a fairytale ending with the novel’s love interest, Jeha. But when a bizarre twist makes her realize the story is not playing out as it does in the book, she’ll need the help of an unlikely character from her class to defy the new storyline and find her happy ending - if only she can figure out who this ‘Unknown Extra’ is first!”

Hands down one of my favorite webtoons by a long shot. You ever see a webtoon and think, ‘oh yeah, thats going to be a good webtoon’? Thats how this webtoon was for me. It was so good that I spent hours searching for other chapters that hadn’t been uploaded to webtoon yet on other manhua websites. I discovered it because it was also by the author of ‘The Makeup Remover’.

If there is one thing you need to know about me, its that I am a huge horror fan. So when I saw that my favorite author on webtoon had a horror themed webtoon out? You bet your behind that I binged it. Let me tell you, best choice ever.

Think of it as if ‘Ino’s Law’ and ‘Quarantine’ were combined with amazing art and a badass MC.

The Remarried Empress

I love how it is set up to the point where she cannot ‘quit’ until she completes the novel. Creating scenarios where she must survive while meeting the standards in the book. It is such an amazingly written webtoon and I cannot wait for more chapters to be released.

Genre: Fantasy

Chapters: 82

Status: Ongoing

“Navier Ellie Trovi was an empress perfect in every way - intelligent, courageous, and socially adept. She was kind to her subjects and devoted to her husband. Navier was perfectly content to live the rest of her days as the wise empress of the Eastern Empire. That is, until her husband brought hone a mistress and demanded a divorce. ‘I accept this divorce… And i request an approval of my remarriage.’ In a shoking twist Navier remaarries another emperor and retains her title and childhood dream as empress. But just how did everything unfold? “

Am I in love with Navier? Yes.

I absolutely adore how this story was set up. The first chapter begins with the big divorce scene, followed by Navier saying that she was going to be remarrying someone else since he wants to divorce her. This sets up a picture that gets completely shattered as you read the chapters. How everything falls into place with the reason behind the divorce and the remarriage is just so well written. The art is so good and and everything is just so insanely well done.

I absolutely love Naviers character, from her regalness and devoted loyalty to her role as empress, all the way to her petty moments and times of sadness. She is truly a character that you want the best for, and I cannot image anyone not liking her. Also the story is just so capable of making you feel emotions. I’ve laughed, cried, and got angry during the course of reading this webtoon. I love how betrayed I felt when the emperor brought home his mistress. It felt like I was in Navier’s shoes!

This is such a well done webtoon and I'm so excited for Navier to get all of the good things she deserves in her new Kingdom and with her new husband.

Witch Creek Road

Genre: Horror

Chapters: 74

Status: Ongoing

“A survival horror about love, acceptance, death, and revenge. And sexy flesh-eating demons. Yeah, it has those, too.”

This series seriously mind fucked me. The way that this story is set up, you don’t see the full picture until the later chapters. Season two literally blew my mind. It is also very gorey so keep that in mind if you don’t like that kind of stuff, but for me that makes it all the better. It is just so wild and crass that you can feel your heart pumping in anticipation.

They even have their own website that goes further into the lore because it’s just so wild. Also the art style is just so amazing, because it complements the story and horror theme so much. You hate most of the characters because they suck, and it is so satisfying when they are killed. Also it has it’s sad moments but I think it is a nice break from the horror so it isn’t so overwhelmingly scary.

I binged this series and I recommend reading only a few chapters a day so you don’t overload your brain.

Other then that, an amazing webtoon. Seriously, go read it, support the author, so much work goes into the story and art that it’s insane.

Dating With A Tail

Genre: Romance

Chapters: 36

Status: Ongoing

“On the dawn of her 29th birthday, unlucky-in-love Yunha discovers a shocking family secret: she’s started growing a fox tail, the mark of an ancestral curse. She must find her fated love before her 30th birthday or she is destined to become a fox forever! Even with her new-found enchanting power to attract men using her scent, will one year be enough to break the curse before it’s too late?”

Oh my gosh this is just such a good webtoon. It has amazing art, story telling, and characters. The true love interest was there the whole time, the villain isn’t who you’d expect it to be, and the spirit who cursed her is just! Im not going to spoil it but go read this webtoon!! It is so good and deserves more love.

Also Yunha is just so relatable?? Like she put off finding the woodcutter (her fated love) for 29 years and waited last minute to find him. Homegirl is me trying to do a project for school. Also to get rid of the scent that makes men attracted to her, she just starts eating a ton of garlic and that is just so funny to me.

Also I would go to church for the priest anytime if you know what i mean ;)

Omniscient Reader

Genre: Action

Chapters: 53

Status: Ongoing

“Dokja was an average office worker whose sole interest was reading his favorite web novel ‘Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse.’ But when the novel suddenly becomes reality, he is the only person who knows how the world will end. Armed with this realization, Dokja uses his understanding to change the course of the story, and the world, as he knows it.”

I cannot get over how high quality this story is. The world building is phenomenal, the art is fantastic, and the characters are very fleshed out. This deserved all the hype it has gotten so far and more.

I love the ‘mc thrown into a different reality’ trope so much. Just like with surviving romance, Dokja’s world became the story he was reading. Also a very cool aspect of the story is the level up and the fact that its like a game. Earth has turned into this show for god like creatures to watch and it follows Dokja trying to survive. I also really like that TWSA has a protagonist, but Omniscient Reader’s protagonist is not the protagonist that was in TWSA. There is just so much lore and I’ll say it again, the world building is just phenomenal.

The Ddokkaebi’s and Dokja’s interactions are also just some of my favorite moments from the story so far. And oh my goodness I would die for Lee Gilyoung. Thats it, thats the tweet. That little boy could probably kill me with his giant praying mantis and I would let him if it would make him happy.

Not So Shoujo Love Story

Genre: Comedy

Chapters: 45

Status: Ongoing

“Romance super-fan Rei Chan is ready for her first boyfriend and she knows just who it’ll be: the most handsome boy in school, Hansum Ochinchin. But her plans for the perfect story are derailed when the most popular girl in class declares herself a rival… for Rei’s heart?! This is the year her not so shoujo love story begins!”

This is just such a cute webtoon. The style is very appealing and while the humor can be childish and weird sometimes, it still has made me laugh a lot. I know the humors not for everyone but just keep in mind that it does get better as the story progresses and gets more serious.

Also its a gl! I’m really unable to find good gls these days that don’t fetishize wlw relationships. Rei being painted as a mean trouble maker whos just misunderstood and Hana being the ‘perfect girl’ who only wants Rei’s attention is such a cute dynamic. They balance each other out and better each other. Also stan Rei for constantly sticking up for Hana even if she doesn’t necessarily like her in the beginning, she has very good morals and sticks to them.

Also the defying stereotypes in this webtoon? Just god-tier. Really makes you think twice when you judge someone just on first impressions alone.

Odd Girl Out

Genre: Drama

Chapters: 264

Status: Ongoing

“After a successful winter break makeover, Nari is finally ready for her high school debut. But somehow, she ends up friends with the three prettiest girls in school! Follow Nari as she tries to navigate her brand new high school life surrounded by beauties.”

This story has made me cry multiple times. A lot, even. It is just such a beautiful tale of friendship and finding support in people who are unlike those around theme. It also tells a great story about how anybody can be the ‘odd girl out’. Be it the fat girl, the beautiful girl, the rich girl, or the laid back girl.

It goes so deep into its characters that you even feel bad for the minor antagonists. It really makes you feel for the characters and the reasons behind their actions. Also I know its long, believe me I binged all 260 chapters in the span of three days, but oh my god it is worth it. Also I know the art is kind of off-putting, in fact that’s kind of why I put off reading the story, but I’ve honestly grown to love it and the writing is so good that the art could be literal stick figures and it wouldn’t matter.

The story is amazing and also I just love Nari. She’s just the best.

Gremoryland

Genre: Horror

Chapters: 67

Status: Completed

“Six old school friends are invited to be the first visitors of GremoryLand, a new horror theme park that promises an experience as unique as it is spooky. But once this experience starts there is no turning back, and they find themselves tested beyond what they imagines, facing their most desperate fears in order to survive.”

This is definitely one of those stories were you kind of need to turn of your brain and choose to ignore ‘plot holes’ while reading the early chapters because this story definitely gets crazy if you don’t know the ending. Believe me if you stick with it it will all make sense and the satisfaction you get from finding the ending is just so worth it.

The story is so good, and who Gremory is you would literally never suspect. When it was revealed who Gremory was and how he was able to create Gremoryland is so fucking mind boggling that you would never guess. I had to do a double take. It wasn’t like one of those random characters with a vendetta type of twists, but like one you can pick out from clues throughout the story.

Its so good and twisted and just so worth at least giving it a chance.

These were some of my favorite webtoons on the app! Of course it’s not all of them because unfortunately there is a 10 image limit. I also made this because I’ve run out of new webtoons to read and would love if you guys commented some of your own recs. I can also do a part two with other ones I liked if y’all want more recommendations. You guys can even request specific categories like Drama or Sci-Fi and I can tell you my favorite ones from that genre.

Also a reminder - if you disagree with any of my praise of these webtoons be respectful about it. At the end of the day it’s my opinion and you don’t need to be rude when disagreeing with that opinion.

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drawlfoy · 4 years ago

Text

Wonders of Ohio P.9

masterlist

requests are closed, but please read this first :)

if you want to be tagged, send an ask or message me!

pairing: draco x reader

request: nope, my original shameless self insert idea lmao

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for the ride of her life when their exchange student is...a bit strange (but very hot). NOT a nonmagic AU, though you already knew that if you’ve read part 8 ;)

warnings: swearing, mentions of a break in, concerns about a home intruder, objectively the most fluffy scene we’ve gotten so far in this series (hehe), draco being fucking obnoxious and moody (did i mention swearing?)

a/n: ayoooooo so here’s part 9, as promised. i’ve started getting back into the hp universe more and more, so i should probably be picking up my writing soon. i’ve been feeling more myself again!! which is super awesome. i don’t think many people read this series anymore (or my author notes in general but i don’t blame yall) but i’m having a lot of fun writing it, so i’m going to keep going :)

music recs:

puppy princess -- hot freaks

loverboy -- A-wall

linger -- the cranberries

tags tags tags: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

word count: 3.8k :)

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if Draco deliberately waited until the last minute to tell her family that he was leaving so he could evade her questioning. She tried to talk to him later that evening by knocking on his door, but she was met with complete silence.

Draco was ignoring her, and she didn’t get why. She’d promised to not tell anyone--even begged for him to trust her and essentially swore on her life--but he still wasn’t acting normal. Perhaps he didn’t want her to badger him with questions about the magical world.

Or maybe this was an excuse to get away from her.

Y/N swallowed the second possibility and locked it away somewhere out of sight. He’d left without a single word more to her (not even a congratulations for getting into a top 20 school, that loser) and never even bothered telling her when he’d return. And maybe that was the nicest part of it--she could pretend like he was never coming back.

As attractive as that option was, she had to admit that there was a Draco-shaped hole in her passenger car seat every time she drove to school. And in the kitchen when she was studying. And everywhere else he’d once touched.

“Why do you think he went back?”

Y/N took a break from reviewing her Art History final exam notes to look up at Lizzy. “Maybe something happened with his dad or he wanted to spend his holidays with his family? It’s probably not that serious.”

“Speaking of his dad, I tried to look up his name and see if anything came up,” Lizzy began. Y/N felt her heart jump into her throat. “Don’t you think it’s kinda sus? I haven’t found anything for him. It’s like he’s been completely wiped off the face of the earth. Do you know anything about it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of my business.” Draco’s franticness when she found out lingered in the back of her mind as she chose her words carefully. “I’m sure if he’s a genuine political target, they’ve just scrubbed the web clean of him, being a minor and all.”

“But don’t you think it’s funny that he’s apparently so important but there’s no evidence of him or his father ever existing?”

“Lizzy.” Her voice was firm. “It’s entirely possible that his real name is different. And either way, it’s not our story to uncover. He’s entitled to his own privacy, and if he doesn’t reveal his true identity then we need to respect that.”

“Oooookaaayyyyy, Mother,” said Lizzy. “You’re so fun. You know that, right?”

“It’s my job.”

After the close brush with Lizzy, Y/N avoided the topic of Draco with her friends like wildfire. At the back of her mind, she registered that that was probably more suspicious, but when Sylvia asked her about him during lunch, she finally spun up a story.

“I told him I liked him,” she told everyone, the words stinging her throat. “He doesn’t feel the same way. I just would feel better if we dropped it.”

Her friends reacted immediately with sympathy, telling her that it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t see her for what she was worth. Somehow, this made her feel worse. She didn’t even need to tell him her feelings to know his thoughts--he didn’t see her as anything but a “muggle”, or whatever he called them. She never stood a chance.

Y/N spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering how things would’ve been different if she was a witch. She didn’t know anything about his world (apart from the fact that they really had a stick up their asses about people knowing of them) but she somehow craved a place in it. Would Draco feel differently towards her if she was magic?

It was probably better if she didn’t pay too much mind to it, but she couldn’t let the thought go. Every time she shut her eyes at night, the memory of waking up next to Draco replayed in her head, over and over. She would’ve sold her soul to have gone back to that. Would things have been different if she had just...not found the letters? She was driving herself crazy digging through all her interactions with him. There’s no way she was imagining things, and judging by the surprised reactions of her friends when she told them he didn’t reciprocate feelings, she wasn’t the only one who thought something was there. If he was really so disgusted by her and her people, he wouldn’t have let her sleep in his room, in his bed no less.

As December wore on, her mind began to be occupied by another feverish stream of thoughts. If she didn’t already feel like she was going crazy over the Draco problem, she was going completely insane over the fact that she was misplacing things like crazy and forgetting the most basic of things. It seemed like it was almost every day that she was forgetting where she put her keys (even though she could’ve sworn she’d hung them up by the door) or getting home to find the door already unlocked even though she was sure that she’d locked it behind her. It would’ve creeped her out, but she was really off kilter. It just wasn’t right having Draco away, and the sense of dread she got every time she went by her room just threw her off balance. What if she still had lingering sickness from whatever magical infliction she suffered?

He really should’ve stuck around to watch after me. Just in case.

Another thing was bothering her--a name she saw pop up in the pouch from when she went through his letters. It was a small portion of his collection, and she didn’t even think to examine it until after he took them back from her, but she noticed that the name “Pansy Parkinson” came up more than once as a return address.

Her mind immediately jumped to the worst--Draco was madly in love with another girl, a magical girl, and traveled back home with the express purpose of declaring his neverending devotion for her and complaining about that rat Ohioan muggle that he had to spend his days with.

Y/N knew it wasn’t healthy, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t quite shake it. The fact that he’d no doubt grown up around girls that would be suitable for him to date was making her physically ill with jealousy, which was probably the most embarrassing part of her feelings for him. Nevermind how much time she spent fantasizing about how soft his hair felt or how his stupidly pretty fingers would feel grazing her skin--she couldn’t even cope with the idea of him existing with other women that were honestly a better choice to him.

That Christmas was surprisingly bleak. Being an only child always made for a quiet house during the holidays, but the expectation she held of having Draco there set her up for disappointment. Her house felt empty.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” Y/N asked her mother as they did the morning dishes together.

“Well, I assume so. Why wouldn’t he? He was scheduled to spend the entire year with us. I think that if he’s changed his mind we would at least know by now.”

“What if he’s still deciding?”

“Why, miss him already?” Mrs. Y/L/N’s tone was teasing, but she felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Quite the contrary. I’m just wondering if I’m about to become the pampered only child again or if I’m going to need to go back into the unglamorous life of sharing the spotlight.”

“Y/N,” her mother tutted. She’d stopped doing the dishes.

Y/N made a point to evade her knowing look. “Mom.”

Her mother took a breath before answering. “Nothing. As a matter of fact, I did get a letter from him a few days ago. He’s scheduled to return the second week of January, right before school goes back.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. No matter how hard she tried, there’s no way her relief wasn’t visible.

“How’s that for your Christmas gift, hm?”

“Mom!”

“Hey! Hey, it was a joke,” Mrs. Y/L/N said, throwing her hands up in a “no can do” sort of gesture. “I know that you’re good friends with him is all. Unless…”

“Mom!” Her cheeks were all shades of red.

“All I’m saying is that he seems to enjoy your company.”

“Stockholm syndrome, I’m telling you.” Her explanation of what that meant was on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. There was no reason to--the only person who would need that explained to them was no longer on the same continent as her.

“Whatever you’d like to think.”

The snowstorm hit them without warning, two days after Christmas. Her parents had left for the night to attend a charity auction, but unfortunately for Y/N, by the time that they realized that their daughter would be snowed in, the roads were too dangerous to drive on. Y/N begrudgingly agreed to do all of the things they told her to--get the generator ready, make sure the fireplace was prepared, and locate all the candles in the house.

On any normal day, she wouldn’t have been concerned in the slightest, but she’d felt uneasy in her house ever since the night of the break-in, and now that this was the first night she’d have to spend alone, her heart was pounding at the thought of having to sleep in an empty house. Especially if the power was out. Especially when whoever broke in was still on the loose.

She locked up at dusk, making sure that every entry to her home was completely sealed shut. The generator was in the basement, all set up in the case that the lights went out. She’d located all the bottled water in her house in case the pipes froze, and she finally retired to her room to relax.

The sense of dread that hovered around Draco’s room was gone, thankfully. The overall feeling of creepiness was just beginning to lose its jarring sting, but she’d never quite been able to shake how many things she misplaced in the beginning of the month.

She busied herself with mundane activities--she cleaned out her closet, organized her drawers, read, changed her sheets, and finished the last of her homework--but nothing could distract her from the gnawing inside of her. The hairs on the back of her neck constantly stood up, even when she was tucked away in the corner of her room, nestled into her blankets. The tingling was akin to what she felt when she walked into that antique shop on homecoming night--the same night when Draco helped her off her feet and narrowly kept her from throwing up all over Heather.

Looking back on it, she realized that when he grabbed her wrist, he must’ve done something to quell her nausea, something magical. There was no way her carsickness could’ve been able to disappear so quickly.

Her soliloquy was interrupted by what sounded like footsteps outside. Before she could assess the situation and decide what she was going to do, a boom sounded off in the distance and she was all of a sudden bathed in darkness.

Y/N froze.

Someone was most definitely outside her house, but thankfully she’d locked all the doors. And, thankfully, the boom told her that her fuse box hadn’t been messed with. A tree had probably just fallen on a transformer.

But those small comforts still didn’t change the fact that she was no longer alone--and not only that, but no longer alone without power.

Her thoughts were interrupted once again by banging on her front door. Y/N jumped, just barely managing to clap her hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that alerting someone that you were home wasn’t the smartest move. She’d have to be strategic.

Heart pounding out of her chest, she crept out of her room and down the stairs. The power outage was quite lucky, she realized, as whoever was outside couldn’t see in. The moon only cast a slight light as it reflected off of the snow, so she was going to be able to see the person outside before they would see her.

She squinted from her perch by the base of the staircase. She could make out a silhouette, a tall and lanky one. The weak moonlight reflected off a very light head of hair, and Y/N was struck with a feeling of familiarity.

No way...

Y/N stood frozen for a few seconds as she heard the person knock on the door again. A muffled version of a familiar British voice said, “Is anyone there?”

Throwing all caution to the wind and praying to any higher power that was listening to her that her suspicion was correct, she pushed down on the doorknob and swung it open.

Her heart stopped.

“Draco? What are you--”

Before she could get another word out of her mouth, she was pulled into the tightest (and snowiest) hug of her life. One of his arms wrapped solidly around her waist, the other reaching further up to her shoulders to hold her closer. He was tall enough in comparison that he could rest his chin on the top of her head while she cautiously clasped her hands around him, breathing in the same soft pine scent that she knew so well.

When he finally let go of her, she noticed that his face was decidedly less pale than what it had been when she first opened the door. At a loss for words, Y/N just made her way behind him and shut the door to keep the storm from blowing any more snowflakes in. She noted that Draco was shaking.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

She grinned. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I’m not that scared of the dark.”

He didn’t look nearly as amused, wringing his hands out in front of him instead of meeting her eyes.

“You’re going to freeze to death if you’re gonna just stand there in soaking clothes,” she chided. “And what are you doing back half a month early? I know you must’ve missed me, but I didn’t expect you to miss me THAT much.”

He rolled his eyes, bringing Y/N the comfort that the sarcastic asshole was still in there. “We need to talk.”

“No, what you need to do is get changed into dry clothes,” she said. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but until we get our generator working, there’s no heat...and I’m not sure if the Ministry is going to like it if I let you die on my watch.”

Even though he didn’t normally laugh at her jokes, he seemed especially solemn when she said this. It became very clear to her then that he regretted his brief display of affection.

“What are you doing, just standing here? Shoo! I don’t want to see you dripping snow all over the rug.” She waved him off until he made his way up the stairs, still eerily silent.

Once she was sure he was actually getting dressed, she made her way to the kitchen where she started heating up the water. She’d never been more thankful for the fact that they had a gas stove instead of an electric one.

The tea was almost finished brewing by the time that Draco was back downstairs, perched awkwardly on the couch. She’d never seen his sweater before--it was in a rich forest green with a silver crest of a snake.

“Are you going to tell me whatever is going on? I’ve never seen you like this before,” asked Y/N as she handed him the mug that she knew to be his favorite.

He took a sip and waited a bit before responding. “I found out some things while I was away.”

“Is that it? Must’ve been something pretty interesting for you to come in here and act like I’m your long lost love or whatever.” She took careful note of how his cheeks were especially pink, but it must’ve been because of the cold.

“I shouldn’t tell you everything, but I think you should probably know the gist of things,” he began. “First of all, I figured out why I couldn’t use the Obliviation cube on you. Also, you have to consent to an Unbreakable Vow.”

“A...what? Care to elaborate? Like, at least a little? Why didn’t it work on me?”

He sighed, a sharp breath of air that left his lungs in a huff. “Because you stumbled upon a very important box that can bestow the gift of magic onto anyone. And since you did something in your dream to try and open it, it permanently took root in you. I tried to reverse it, but there’s always going to be an imprint of magic on you.”

“Sick. So I’m a witch now? Like you?”

“No.” His tone was sour. “No, you’re not. For that to work, there needs to be a ritual actually completed by someone magical. That’s why you got so sick--because you would’ve needed me to help you through your dream sequence and open up the box. So, now that you’ve essentially pushed yourself into the magical world uninvited, I can’t use anything on you that’s catered towards Muggles.”

“Rats,” said Y/N. “That’s no fun. What about the whole part about my safety? And what’s that vow thing?”

“Apparently someone really, really wants that box,” Draco told her. “It doesn’t just give muggles the gift of magic--it can also give current wizards powers that are otherwise completely unavailable to the rest of the population. In the wrong hands, they could wreak havoc on the world. And I’m almost positive they think you have it.”

“Oh…” Everything started falling into place. “So, the break in? That probably was them right? And, uh, let’s say if you feel like maybe someone has been in your house while you’ve been gone? Like, that’s something I should be worried about, right?”

“Is that happening to you?” His face looked significantly more pale.

Y/N was tempted to tell him no--just to ease his nerves--but something in his look told her that she needed to be truthful. “Um, kind of. You know how I can be forgetful, though. It’s just little things, like sometimes I come home to find that the front door is unlocked when I’m sure I locked it, or I can’t find little things like my car keys and my phone, but it’s all easily explained.”

“I never should’ve left,” he said, tucked his knees up to his chest. “I should’ve known that that was Merlin’s Box.” He swallowed, meeting her eyes with a gaze that looked so forlorn that her heart ached. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, all we have to do is tell them I don’t have the box, right? And then they’ll leave me alone.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I assume so, but if they didn’t find the box when they originally ransacked your room and they’re still hanging around, I don’t know what to do. That’s why I can’t obliviate you, the proper way that we use on wizards, because I can’t always be there to save you. Once I’m gone, you’re going to have to manage on your own.”

“Please, Draco,” said Y/N. “People will always talk a big game, but once I pull out my pepper spray it’s over. I can take care of myself! I didn’t need protection while you’re away.”

He smiled then, a small one that seemed more sad than anything. “You sound like me. When I was younger.”

“You probably don’t even know what pepper spray is. What’s that vow thing?”

“You have to promise that you won’t say anything that would reveal what you know about me and my world,” said Draco. “I need to find a wizard to say the incantations, but it shouldn’t be too hard. I ended up telling the Ministry what happened--I’m not going to get sent away as they have a clear record of me at least attempting to wipe your memory and they agree that you need to be able to protect yourself. Unbreakable Vows are just really intense promises. If you break it, you die.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t really trust my word?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s required by the Ministry. If you don’t comply, then you’re going to be completely obliviated and then you can have as much fun as you’d like trying to run from whoever that criminal is without even knowing why they’re after you. Oh, and without me.”

“Then why are you even offering the vow? Don’t you want to go home?”

Draco took a long drink from his mug. “I still have a sentence to carry out. If I go back home, I’ll get sent to the same prison that my father is being held at right now.”

“A...sentence?” Y/N stared at him. “I know you mentioned a punishment, but a sentence?”

He remained silent and refused to meet her eyes.

“Draco, what exactly did you have to do?”

“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. The sudden switch of tone made Y/N start, but he was unwavering in his scowl. “I’d prefer to not think about it.”

“But...Draco…” Y/N cast her gaze to the ground so she didn’t have to see the no doubt furious look in his eyes when she continued to push. “How bad? Do you think that maybe whoever is after me might know that I don’t have the box anymore? And that they might be trying to seek revenge against you for whatever it was that you did instead?”

He didn’t respond.

“Think about it. That would explain why I was untouched this whole time that you were away when they were still keeping tabs on me.”

With a pronounced bonk, he set his mug down on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed.”

She managed to get one more look at his face before he spun around to head up the stairs and was shocked to see what was etched into his face--anger, yes, frustration...and also shame. Unmistakable shame.

final a/n: weeoooooooo i’m like 3 minutes early...this is a monumental moment for my blog. let me know what you guys think (if there’s still people sticking with this series fjkds;al). i am going to go back into my hole and work on some math hw (wonders of ohio y/n vibes...i have low key become her trying to roleplay as a stem girl). the plot is going to thicken and hopefully there will be more fluff soon. i honestly didn’t want to add the hug bc i do want this to be slow burn but it has come to my attention that this is now about 30k words long and i haven’t given y’all so much as an inkling that draco has feelings/anything will happen between them so i gotta give you something to hold you over fjdska;

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy #draco #dracotok #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 5 years ago

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It’s This Jealousy

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!) Warnings: masturbation Summary:

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony’s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried.

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.” Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.

#starker #ironspider #bobbie writes #prompts #starkerscoop

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frickyeahfanfic · 5 years ago

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READ MY MIND ~ quentin beck

pairing: quentin beck x reader

REQUEST: Can I have a Quentin x Reader, where she's an Avenger who offers to join his side, if he doesn't harm Peter, Fury, and the high school kids?

a.n.: i changed some things in the plot, so if something doesn’t exactly follow the movie, deal with it

word count: 4173

warnings: small mentions of abuse, abduction

_________

After the fall of Thanos, the Avengers were unofficially disbanded. Two of the members of the team were dead, and the rest had gone off to do what they classified as “more important work.” You knew that they would be back if anything catastrophic was going to happen to Earth, but for now, you had to hold down the fort.

You were mainly a spy for the Avengers, the ability to read and manipulate minds gave you an extraordinary skill set that came in handy for the team. People and animals were easy to manipulate, in a way, you could send signals of commands to get people to do what you wanted them to do. But to actually be inside of someone’s mind, as long as you made eye contact with the person, you could see everything and hear every thought in their head.

Lately, you were the Avengers, along with Spider-man and Nick Fury. Peter Parker had school and Fury had to run S.H.I.E.L.D, so you were left to your own devices when it came to the chaos in Europe.

You knew Fury was going to make his way over to Italy, and he wouldn’t let you know because he wanted to keep you safe from danger, so you decided to take matters into your own hands and fly over there yourself.

After all, Peter Parker was your friend and you wanted to keep an eye on him as well, and you knew too damn well that Fury would put him in jeopardy for the “greater good”.

Thank goodness you were there to get his friends out of the way when the water started to rise in the river.

Peter had run in the opposite direction, allowing you to take his friends to a safe place.

“Follow me!” You shout at them, pushing their backs away from the water creature. You focused hard in your mind and suggested to them that they turn left, where there was a sturdy empty building. They turned left, and once they all got inside you ran back to see Peter desperately web-slinging bricks around. You caught his eye and immediately you could hear the worry and fear in his head, along with “Why in the world is Echo here?”

A wave crashed over Peter and he was whisked away, and in his place was a figure surrounded by smoke. You stopped in your tracks and watched in awe as the figure’s hands glowed, beams of light evaporating the water around him. You were even more surprised as he jumped off the ground and started flying.

You heard a crash and the building behind you started to crumble, and you could see Peter desperately trying to hold it together with webs. You were no help to either the mysterious figure or Peter, but you were dying to know who the newcomer was. Finding refuge behind what seemed like a sturdy wall, you waited until the coast was clear. It was impossible to make eye contact with the figure as a glass orb sat on his torso, blocking the view of his face. Maybe he didn’t even have a face.

One last laser blast to the monster and the river settled back to normal. The man floated gently to the ground and Peter ran up to him, thanking him for his help. Thank goodness Peter had a mask on (definitely not his Spiderman mask), to hide his identity from the new man. He turned to Peter, saluted him, then the man flew away.

Something wasn’t right.

Normally people have a sort of aura around them, like a thin sheet covering objects beneath. The thin sheet was easily lifted if you just focused hard enough, revealing everything underneath. It was tricky enough learning how to put the “sheet” over everyone’s thoughts, and it took concentration. Eye contact, however, let you listen to every detail of a person.

However, the man didn’t have any sort of aura about him. None. There were no objects under the sheet, nor was there any sheet.

Perhaps it came with his superpowers? You couldn’t quite make direct eye contact with him, but still, something was off.

“Peter! Thank goodness you’re alive!” You exclaim, coming out from behind your hiding place.

“Echo, why are you here?” He said, frowning. He pulled off his mask. “Did Fury send you?”

You laughed. “No. I wasn’t invited. I came to make sure that Fury didn’t put you in harm’s way.”

He rolled his eyes. “When am I ever not in danger’s way?”

Poor Peter. When does this kid ever get a break? You pulled him into a hug and he sighed, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“It’s good to see you, Peter.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Y/n.”

You step back and look around the sky. “Who was that man?”

Peter shrugged. “He just saluted me. I’m not sure, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Whoever he was, we need him, he’s really powerful,” You said.

And then you remembered you couldn’t read his mind.

“Something was off about him though,” you interjected before Peter could speak.

“What?” Peter tilted his head. “Something was off? Yeah, where has he been this whole time?”

You shake your head. “No, something else. I couldn’t hear anything.”

Peter Parker knew that you had incredible abilities, and knew how your mind-reading worked.

“You… couldn’t? That’s weird, you can read everyone’s mind.”

Peter looked over your shoulder and saw his classmates clamoring out of the building. They were looking around frantically. “I gotta go, we need to talk later,” he said, turning and running towards them.

Your phone started to ring and you answered quickly. “Hello.”

“Echo. Why are you in Europe?”

It was Fury. He sounded, well, furious.

“I’m allowed to travel. Why is Peter here? Aren’t you supposed to take care of him?”

“I’m not his handler. He’s on a school trip. Thank goodness he’s here, he can help with all the… trouble.”

You scoffed. “Fury, he’s a kid! We need to keep him safe, not use him to stop evil.”

“He’s fine.” Fury drawled over the phone. “He can handle it. Plus, you’re here so you can keep him safe.”

“Well, I don’t want to be his babysitter!”

“Echo, we need your help too. The new guy, Mysterio, Spiderman, and now you, we can stop these Elementals.”

“Fury, I’m confused,” you whine.

“I’ll send you our coordinates tonight, meet us there. Until then, have fun babysitting.”

The phone clicked off and you groaned. Why was Fury so damn annoying?

You focused your mind and you could hear the minds of people nearby. You sensed the thoughts of a taxi driver, and you suggested to him to come by and pick you up. Within moments, he was there and you got in the car without question. You were able to manipulate his mind to take you to the nearest hotel where you currently had your belongings.

Mind reading and control had its benefits at times. It certainly didn’t come without consequences at first.

There were moments when you couldn’t block out anybody’s thoughts, so every hour of the day your brain was constantly bombarded with the chaos in everyone’s heads around you. Over time you were able to fine-tune the ability and use it to your advantage. Thank goodness you weren’t a “bad guy” because taking over the world would’ve been too easy.

Fury was there to help you control it. Without him, you would probably be in an insane asylum. At least you wouldn’t have to take care of Peter there.

You decided to take a nap on the shabby hotel bed, relying on Fury’s text to wake you up for the meeting later.

______

PING

You swing your legs over your bed and pick up your phone.

“Meeting. Now.” Was all the encrypted text said.

You pack some items in a backpack, including your gun, and head out the door. A black car was waiting and you got in willingly. It took a sharp turn to an underground tunnel, and from there an Agent led you to Fury and Maria. A literal underground base was before your eyes, and you took in every detail around you before addressing the Director.

“It’s late.”

Fury tilted his head. “Is there a problem with the meeting time?”

You shook your head and smiled, but you hoped you got your annoyed message with your eyes. “No. Not at all.”

“Peter should be here any minute now. In the meantime, I’d like to introduce you to our friend.”

You peer over his shoulder and out of the darkness melted a figure, one who was similarly dressed to the man flying around the river, fighting the monster. This time, he had no orb on his head, it was replaced by an unfamiliar face, scruffy beard, brown locks, and blue eyes. He was distracted by a hologram that floated in front of him.

“Mysterio.”

The name sounded sharp on your tongue and caused the man in the cape to turn his head.

As soon as you made eye contact with him, his thoughts filled in your brain.

“And you are?” He questioned, trying to decipher if you were friend or foe.

“Echo.”

“Mysterio?” Fury mused, looking at the man. “His name is Quentin Beck.”

Mysterio was the first word you heard from his conscious, and you couldn’t help but say it. You continued to scan his thoughts, trying to sort all the jumble in his head. He heard the name from the news on TV.

“It’s what the news calls him, ‘Uomo di mistero’. Shortened to Mysterio,” you explain, trying not to give away that you can read minds.

You heard Fury’s mind go right to “mind-reading,” but you persuaded him to keep a secret.

“Echo is one of our finest agents here. She has special abilities… and will assist with us,” he said turning to you, widening his one eye warningly.

Quentin, or Mysterio, reached out a hand and you shook it tightly, peering into his face, searching for answers.

He couldn’t help but notice your eyes practically piercing his as if you could read his thoughts.

Well, because you could.

You could sense the defensiveness, the caution in his head, and he warily took a step back, letting go of your hand quickly. He was scared of you.

How peculiar. You could hear him now.

Then you could hear him in his head switch immediately to thoughts of attraction. Typical. Just for fun you squint your eyes and made him think more about you. Quentin swallowed, unknowingly obliging to your suggestions in his head.

You turn to Fury. “What’s the problem? More water monsters?”

“We’ll wait till Parker gets here. Then we can let Mr. Beck explain. He’s already explained it to us too many times,” Fury said, checking a tracker that was probably keeping tabs on Peter.

They’ve totally fallen for it, a thought popped up nearby.

Huh? You thought loudly, trying to distinguish who it came from. More thoughts of deception and amusement filled your head. Your eyes landed on Quentin Beck, who was listening to Maria’s questions about the Elementals, whatever that was.

Was he lying?

Maria’s thoughts were fascinated and concerned about the last Elemental, whatever it was. Fury was anxious about Peter on his way but nothing else. Dmitri and some other agents sat around or were busying themselves with other things. No one seemed worried about Quentin, in fact, he brought more security to them.

Peter Parker walked in the base, and Fury did introductions to Quentin. Peter was in awe at Quentin, and you immediately felt the safety he felt, now knowing who the mysterious figure was. Peter nodded and smiled at you, then listened to the story that Quentin started to tell.

It’s hard to decipher other thoughts when people are talking because the human mind can only focus on one task at a time. But the tone of his mental thoughts… something wasn’t right.

He implied that the Fire Elemental took over his world and he lost his family. He touched the ring on his finger carefully, as if reminiscing his lost loved one.

The final touch, he said in his head.

“The final touch?” You blurted, causing everyone in earshot to turn their heads. You were used to trusting the SHIELD agents with the knowledge of your ability, but you couldn’t help but restate the obscure comment that Quentin made. In his mind.

“What did you just say?” Quentin turned around and gave a glare menacingly, but the rest of the crew was looking at you, trying to figure out what you said, and didn’t see the warning look.

Did she just read my mind? His thoughts were now panicked, but he assumed quickly that there was no such thing as mind readers.

The next thing he thought terrified you. I’ll take care of her later.

It wasn’t a kind, genuine, “I'll take care of her”, it was an I'm-literally-gonna-slit-her-throat kind of thought.

“Fury, I have to leave,” you mumble quickly before grabbing your bag and starting towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going, Echo?” He nearly raged. “We are in the middle of this.”

“I’ll tell you on the morrow.” A short simple code that Fury knew that meant that there was an emergency, something you knew with your telepathy. You spoke to him in his head.

“I need to leave. I could be in danger now, we could all be.”

Fury’s lip quivered, as if ready to say more, but he simply nodded and you escaped out of the base.

Moments later, Peter came outside, followed by Dmitri.

“I get to go back on my trip! Fury just let me go!” He said excitedly. He gave you a thumbs up before getting in the car with the bulky Russian agent.

“Echo.”

You turn around and see Quentin walking towards you. You’re not sure whether to run away or to stay, but acting scared might send off signals you didn’t want him receiving. You were glued to the spot.

“Quentin,” you say, trying to sound lighthearted.

He stopped and folded his arms, clearly trying to show dominance. Maybe it was to make himself feel less intimidated by you. “Care to tell me your real name?”

“Care to tell me what you’re lying about?”

Quentin blinked. Impossible. How does she know?

“Know what, Quentin Beck?” You took a step forward and to your delight, he took one back.

Can you read my thoughts?

Thought you’d never ask. You reply back in his head.

He full shrugged, hands up by his shoulders. “I guess you know what I’m about to do.”

Suddenly he lunged for you, hand grasping at your throat. You tried to claw him away, but he grabbed your wrists with one hand and clapped another over your mouth to stop you from speaking.

He wasn’t trying to kill you was he? Now you were suffocating on the spot, darkness spotting your vision. You remembered earlier how he thought you were attractive, now was the time to use that to your advantage. Thinking hard, with the last bit of oxygen left in your brain, you made him pity you, made him feel guilty if he actually killed you.

The hand over your mouth slackened. It worked. You inhaled sharply through his fingers. There was no way he was just going to let you go, you heard him thinking about taking you to his base. He lifted your body over his cloaked shoulder with ease. You couldn’t fight back, after nearly suffocating to death there was no way you could even throw a punch. As he started to march away, he spoke into a phone, telling whoever was on the other line to pick him up. Suddenly you were thrown into a trunk, and as the car lurched forward, you hit your head on the side and immediately lost all senses.

_________

“Echo.”

You opened your eyes to darkness, blinking a few times to try to adjust to the unfamiliar setting. Cold metal laced your arms around your back, and you could feel the hard chair you had been placed in. Unfamiliar voices filled your head, except for one. Quentin.

You tried to speak, but your mouth was muffled by a tight strip of fabric that made your head pound.

What are you doing? You tried to reach Quentin.

She’s awake, OK hit the lights, it’s showtime, the voices said around you.

A beam of light crashed down on your face, temporarily blinding you.

“Tell me your name.” The words shook the ground and boomed through your eardrums. “And I’ll tell you the truth”

You close your eyes, trying to protect them from the brightness. Quentin, stop.

I’m not going to, unless you comply.

Comply to what?

The light dimmed and you were face to face with Mysterio, fishbowl head and all. You couldn’t hear him right in front of you, even though he was standing right there.

He reached out for you and you screamed, but nothing came out of your windpipes. A gloved hand grabbed your neck, but to your surprise, you couldn’t feel anything. Suddenly Mysterio, or whatever you were looking at faded away, revealing a drone hovering in the air. The spotlight shone on your face again, this time slightly dimmer.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? Eyes are the best deceivers known to man,” the voice sounded closer now.

Footsteps echoed in the dark space. Your focus shifted behind the drone, and you locked eyes with Quentin. He was dressed in one of those suits that actors get in for CGI work.

Let me go, you warned in Quentin’s head.

“Not yet. I will eventually... when I understand you.

This time when he reached out, his hand actually made contact with your skin. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look up. She looks pretty from up here, he thought. He reached a hand behind you and undid the gag on your mouth. You coughed and shook your head as the pressure relieved.

He waited for you to speak.

Nothing.

Why won’t she say anything? You heard angrily.

Because I don’t have to, You replied simply.

“Stop reading my thoughts!” He yelled, blue eyes darkening, his hands now fists at his sides.

You laughed. It made his blood boil. “You think it’s that easy, huh? Like I can just turn it off right?” Your voice rasped.

Quentin took a step back. “Is it, is it really that hard?”

You smiled devilishly. If only you knew. “I hear everything. When I’m around people, nobody even has to open their mouth, but it’s like I’m in a room full of people talking, shouting, crying, even screaming.”

You continued. “There are about ten other people in this room. I can hear all of them.”

The stunned look on his face said it all. You continued. “I had to learn how to focus on one thing at a time. Focus on one person talking. Sometimes it was hard to decipher if people were actually talking, or if I was reading their thoughts.”

You didn’t know why you were saying all of this, hardly anyone knew this much about your telepathy capabilities.

“It’s a curse that I have to deal with until I die.”

You listened to what he was thinking. Is it that hard? I wish I could read minds, but maybe I don’t, that kinda sounds awful actually.

“I’m… sorry.”

You sat there in silence, now staring at the ground.

“My name is Y/n.”

Quentin repeated your name in your head several times. Pretty name.

“Thanks.”

You lifted your head, ready for him to scold you again, or even attack you, but he stood there, staring at you. He was deep in thought.

She’d be perfect. A mind reader. She could even be my sidekick, it could give me more credibility. My plan would be flawless.

Quentin’s eyes focused again. “You heard all that, didn’t you.”

“You don’t want me to read your mind,” you reminded him.

He sighed. “But you can. I’ll learn to live with it.”

You furrowed your brow. “No. There’s no way I’m working with you, or helping you at all. You’re lying to my friends, and you still haven’t explained anything.”

“If I just explain by thinking, I won’t have to say anything out loud? Because I can certainly think faster than I can talk,” he laughed.

“If you stop treating me like a prisoner, maybe I’ll listen. Take off these stupid chains.” You lift your arms that were bound behind your back and let them fall, the metal clanging to the chair.

You stood up, much too fast and nearly toppled over. Your vision grew blurry and it reminded you all too much of what happened earlier with you and Quentin. He was still behind you, so he reached out and grabbed your shoulders to stop you from falling forward, then rested his hands on your hips to steady you.

“Sit down, I’ll get a chair,” Quentin said, quickly retracting his hands from your sides, darting back into the darkness before you could say anything. He told the others hiding in the darkness to leave, and when they were far enough away, the clutter of consciences cleared out of your mind, leaving your thoughts and Quentin’s thoughts.

The lights flickered on, uncovering the large, plain room that you were in. Concrete walls surrounded the proximity, and the ceiling reached high, windows blocked off from letting the outside world in. Tech equipment was scattered around the room, but the place where you were chained up had been cleared away, the glowing and beeping devices pushed back against the walls.

The most surprising detail about the room was the drones, floating in the air, or resting on the ground. There was still one hovering across from you, but it moved away when Quentin came back with his chair. He sat down and you mimicked his motion.

“Are you ready?” You asked, pulling your chair closer to him.

What is she talking about? “Um, sure?”

You placed your hand gently on his face. Before he could object, he slumped lifelessly in his chair, your palm still spread across his face. His eyes shut and he couldn’t open his mouth to speak.

You were now in control of his consciousness. Fury didn’t like it when you used this part of your powers, but he wasn’t here to stop you.

“Now tell me, Quentin, about your lies.”

Images swirled into motion as you saw things from his perspective. He was at some conference, backstage. Angry. Tony Stark made him angry. He made the drones?

“More. Tell me about Mysterio.”

A story. Made up by a colleague. So ridiculous, but believable. He uses the drones? Ah, they’re projections. The monsters are projections.

You lifted your hand off his face and he gasped, the images dissipating from your mind.

“What did you just do?” Quentin asked, scrambling out of his chair, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes.

You continued to sit, watching him carefully. “I hijacked your subconscious. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but it gets me information quickly.”

He sat down warily, folding his arms. “The reason why I need to trick everyone is to get EDITH from Peter Parker. He’s too young to have that responsibility of Stark’s drone force, and he won't use it for the right reasons. So I came up with a fake superhero to convince him to give it to me. I don’t want it to be some supervillain,” he scoffed, justifying his next point, “I just want the technology in the right hands. Not in the hands of a hormonal teenager.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Fair point. But lying to Fury is a bad idea. What if things go wrong? What if they find out?”

He reached out and grabbed your hands that had been sitting in your lap. “That's when you come in. You can make sure that no one figures out the plan. If Peter gives it to me, trustingly, then no harm comes to anyone. He will feel safe knowing that someone more responsible has EDITH.”

He sat forward and leaned closer. “You have amazing abilities, Y/n. You can keep Peter safe. And, you’ll finally be able to use your powers for something greater, not just random missions for Fury or the Avengers.”

You retract your hands from his and search his thoughts, trying to find fault.

“I know you’re reading my mind, and I’m telling the truth. Just trust me.”

You got up on your feet quickly. “Where do we start?”

_______

( thanks for reading!!! i’m not sure if there’s gonna be a part two. stay updated!)

#mysterio x reader #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck fanfiction #mysterio fanfiction #read my mind #frick yeah fanfic #quentin beck #mysterio #spiderman #ffh #quentin beck imagine #mysterio imagine #marvel fanfiction #spiderman far from home

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visualreverence · 5 years ago

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Dune Genesis by Frank Herbert

(Image by John Schoenherr, text via: https://vasil.ludost.net/dunegenesis.pdf)

This essay was originally published in the July 1980 issue of Omni Magazine. It has never been reprinted, and most DUNE fans have not had the opportunity to read Frank Herbert's description of creating his masterpiece

Dune began with a concept whose mostly unfleshed images took shape across about six years of research and one and a half years of writing. The story was all in my head until it appeared on paper as I typed it out.

How did it evolve? I conceived of a long novel, the whole trilogy as one book about the messianic convulsions that periodically overtake us. Demagogues, fanatics, con-game artists, the innocent and the not-so-innocent bystanders-all were to have a part in the drama. This grows from my theory that superheroes are disastrous for humankind. Even if we find a real hero (whatever-or whoever-that may be), eventually fallible mortals take over the power structure that always comes into being around such a leader.

Personal observation has convinced me that in the power area of politics/economics and in their logical consequence, war, people tend to give over every decision-making capacity to any leader who can wrap himself in the myth fabric of the society. Hitler did it. Churchill did it. Franklin Roosevelt did it. Stalin did it. Mussolini did it.

My favorite examples are John F. Kennedy and George Patton. Both fitted themselves into the flamboyant Camelot pattern, consciously assuming bigger-than-life appearance. But the most casual observation reveals that neither was bigger than life. Each had our common human ailment-clay feet.

This, then, was one of my themes for Dune: Don't give over all of your critical faculties to people in power, no matter how admirable those people may appear to be. Beneath the hero's facade you will find a human being who makes human mistakes. Enormous problems arise when human mistakes are made on the grand scale available to a superhero. And sometimes you run into another problem.

It is demonstrable that power structures tend to attract people who want power for the sake of power and that a significant proportion of such people are imbalanced-in a word, insane.

That was the beginning. Heroes are painful, superheroes are a catastrophe. The mistakes of superheroes involve too many of us in disaster.

It is the systems themselves that I see as dangerous Systematic is a deadly word. Systems originate with human creators, with people who employ them. Systems take over and grind on and on. They are like a flood tide that picks up everything in its path. How do they originate?

All of this encapsulates the stuff of high drama, of entertainment-and I'm in the entertainment business first. It's all right to include a pot of message, but that's not the key ingredient of wide readership. Yes, there are analogs in Dune of today's events-corruption and bribery in the highest places, whole police forces lost to organized crime, regulatory agencies taken over by the people they are supposed to regulate. The scarce water of Dune is an exact analog of oil scarcity. CHOAM is OPEC.

But that was only the beginning.

While this concept was still fresh in my mind, I went to Florence, Oregon, to write a magazine article about a US Department of Agriculture project there. The USDA was seeking ways to control coastal (and other) sand dunes. I had already written several pieces about ecological matters, but my superhero concept filled me with a concern that ecology might be the next banner for demagogues and would-be-heroes, for the power seekers and others ready to find an adrenaline high in the launching of a new crusade.

Our society, after all, operates on guilt, which often serves only to obscure its real workings and to prevent obvious solutions. An adrenaline high can be just as addictive as any other kind of high.

Ecology encompasses a real concern, however, and the Florence project fed my interest in how we inflict ourselves upon our planet. I could begin to see the shape of a global problem, no part of it separated from any other-social ecology, political ecology, economic ecology. It's an open-ended list.

Even after all of the research and writing, I find fresh nuances in religions, psychoanalytic theories, linguistics, economics, philosophy, plant research, soil chemistry, and the metalanguages of pheromones. A new field of study rises out of this like a spirit rising from a witch's cauldron: the psychology of planetary societies.

Out of all this came a profound reevaluation of my original concepts. In the beginning I was just as ready as anyone to fall into step, to seek out the guilty and to punish the sinners, even to become a leader. Nothing, I felt, would give me more gratification than riding the steed of yellow journalism into crusade, doing the book that would right the old wrongs.

Reevaluation raised haunting questions. I now believe that evolution, or deevolution, never ends short of death, that no society has ever achieved an absolute pinnacle, that all humans are not created equal. In fact, I believe attempts to create some abstract equalization create a morass of injustices that rebound on the equalizers. Equal justice and equal opportunity are ideals we should seek, but we should recognize that humans administer the ideals and that humans do not have equal ability.

Reevaluation taught me caution. I approached the problem with trepidation. Certainly, by the loosest of our standards there were plenty of visible targets, a plethora of blind fanaticism and guilty opportunism at which to aim painful barbs.

But how did we get this way? What makes a Nixon? What part do the meek play in creating the powerful? If a leader cannot admit mistakes, these mistakes will be hidden. Who says our leaders must be perfect? Where do they learn this?

Enter the fugue. In music, the fugue is usually based on a single theme that is played many different ways. Sometimes there are free voices that do fanciful dances around the interplay. There can be secondary themes and contrasts in harmony, rhythm, and melody. From the moment when a single voice introduces the primary theme, however, the whole is woven into a single fabric.

What were my instruments in this ecological fugue? Images, conflicts, things that turn upon themselves and become something quite different, myth figures and strange creatures from the depths of our common heritage, products of our technological evolution, our human desires, and our human fears.

You can imagine my surprise to learn that John Schoenherr, one of the world's most foremost wildlife artists and illustrators, had been living in my head with the same images. People find it difficult to believe that John and I had no consultations prior to his painting of the Dune illustrations. I assure you that the paintings were a wonderful surprise to me.

The Sardaukar appear like the weathered stones of Dune. The Baron's paunch could absorb a world. The ornithopters are insects preying on the land. The sandworms are Earth shipworms grown monstrous. Stilgar glares out at us with the menace of a warlock.

What especially pleases me is to see the interwoven themes, the fuguelike relationships of images that exactly replay the way Dune took shape.

As in an Escher lithograph, I involved myself with recurrent themes that turn into paradox. The central paradox concerns the human vision of time. What about Paul's gift of prescience-the Presbyterian fixation? For the Delphic Oracle to perform, it must tangle itself in a web of predestination. Yet predestination negates surprises and, in fact, sets up a mathematically enclosed universe whose limits are always inconsistent, always encountering the unprovable. It's like a koan, a Zen mind breaker. It's like the Cretan Epimenides saying, "All Cretans are liars."

Each limiting descriptive step you take drives your vision outward into a larger universe which is contained in still a larger universe ad infinitum, and in the smaller universes ad infinitum. No matter how finely you subdivide time and space, each tiny division contains infinity.

But this could imply that you can cut across linear time, open it like a ripe fruit, and see consequential connections. You could be prescient, predict accurately. Predestination and paradox once more.

The flaw must lie in our methods of description, in languages, in social networks of meaning, in moral structures, and in philosophies and religions- all of which convey implicit limits where no limits exist. Paul Muad'Dib, after all, says this time after time throughout Dune.

Do you want an absolute prediction? Then you want only today, and you reject tomorrow. You are the ultimate conservative. You are trying to hold back movement in an infinitely changing universe. The verb to be does make idiots of us all.

Of course there are other themes and fugal interplays in Dune and throughout the trilogy. Dune Messiah performs a classic inversion of the theme. Children of Dune expands the number of themes interplaying. I refuse, however, to provide further answers to this complex mixture. That fits the pattern of the fugue. You find your own solutions. Don't look to me as your leader.

Caution is indeed indicated, but not the terror that prevents all movement. Hang loose. And when someone asks whether you're starting a new cult, do what I do: Run like hell.

#dune #worldbuilding #storytelling #politics #ecology #same as it ever was

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avatarconner · 4 years ago

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About Kindred and The Order

With seeing my last post to you, with seeing how things are, with how Kindred and the Order are presented,do you still believe that it’s actually the holy grail as you abd webweilding try to claim it is? I mean, throughout the series, Kindred never even did much before his reveal. Beside a few of the things you’ve mentioned last time, Nick Spencer never bothered to make Kindres anything interesting. Nothing involving his character, his traits, his psychological issues,nothing that made the guy anything interesting. Nothing that could’ve expanded his story a bit before the reveal. All throughout he history kept saying how he’s gonna plan on something big and how he’s gonna do his things to Peter. But, he never did. Both you and webweilding say that he’s the best mystery since Hobgoblin but, he really isn’t. He never did anything that put him as interesting or mysterious as he should be. In fact, he wasn’t even subtle about his mystery the moment the absolute Carnage tie in happened. And after Kindred’s reveal, Nick Spencer revealed that he actually gave up on trying to put in a mystery the moment people guessed who he was. And with that, with how it’s presented, that’s just a Really unprofessional thing to do. And with how the latest issue turned out, it just played that we all don’t know who he is for some reason.

I also like to talk about the Order Of The Web. Since their appearance, they claim to serve some importance to Peter. But, the thing is, they never did anything interesting. I mean, Miles, Gwen, and Julia are fine. But, the rest never did anything. Nothing that would serve any importance throughout. The best way this would’ve turned out better for them was if they brought in Kaine and Ben into this. But, for some reason, despite sharing the same issues as Peter and The Order,they never appeared. Not one appearance they made. I mean,you would think the two important Spiders of whok Norman caused trouble with would appear. But, they didn’t. Abd with them around, the dynamics between the Order would’ve been a lot more interested had Ben and Kaine argue with their morality and just delve into their psychology. Throughout, the story never gave us a reason for their absence in this. And throughout they should given us an explanation or something with them.

For all the Stuff you said about Nick Spencer as well as other previous writers, you guys sure don’t seem to find anything here with Kindredabd the other two Spiders.

Honestly? yes.

Look I won’t pretend that the mystery is perfect, it’s not even the best mystery in fiction I’ve seen for Spider-Man (Spectacular’s Goblin twists are top for me) but I still think it has a good buildup.

First thing we know is that Kindred knows Peter’s secret identity, meaning that only a few people alive could be him. In fact when Charlee Cooper appeared she was a suspect since she knew that Peter was Spidey and possibly could use tech like mysterio to simulate powers. Not to mention that her re-introduction is a parallel to Kindred’s introduction with his first words being off pannel, and her meeting MJ are shown off pannel.

It also works since, because it’s a comic, for the longest time Kindred could have been a SHE.

Moving along we see that Kindred has a certain view of Peter when he reconciles with Felicia. He’s angry because Peter’s pulled another person into the insane life that peter leads, endangering someone else (that comes into play later). I also want to point out a little something here, when we see all the photos of Kindred’ targets in his tomb, Superior Spider-Man is there....clearly Spencer was either uninformed, or Gage just didn’t bother to tell anyone, that Superior Spider-Man would be wrapped up in his own book (Thank god).

After this the next big appearance is in Hunted, while Peter has a feaver dream of someone killing MJ, Kindred is in her home watching over her. Peter senses something is wrong and rushes home to find MJ fine, Kindred tells him that he’ll never hurt MJ or the people he loves, because Peter will do that himself.

This is where Kindred’s motivation and dislike for Spider-Man becomes clear, he believes that Peter endangers those around him by being Spider-Man and needs to be stopped.

The next thing we learn is huge since its from Mysterio, a character who Died (not in Spider-Man but Guadian Devil by Kevin Smith) and came back to life in Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man by Peter David when Pete’s ID was out and the second Mysterio (surprisingly another Kevin Smith creation) targeted the school he worked at. He’s asked the big question that no one ever bothered to answer. How did Mysterio come back to life?

Beck explains that he went to hell and there he was tutored by a Demon and eventually brought back to life to do as the demon said. This is the biggest clue since this means that Kindred is someone who is dead, knows who Peter is, and cares about the people around him. This narrows the pool of suspects down considerably.

Then we get to absolute Carnage tie in, which for a moment I want to just praise spencer for making a fucking Tie in to an event that he had no writing control in both engaging for that event and tie into his own story in Spider-Man. Tie ins suck for the most part and he managed to make his relate to the story he was telling, that’s clever.

Anyway in Absolute Carnage, we learn that kindred has ties to Norman Osborn based on the talk they have with each other, and Norman knows who knidred is. We also learn that both Kindred and Peter were present at a welcome home party for Harry Osborn which had a bunch of old Spidey friends in attendance including Gwen, Flash, Randy, and others.

And then we get to Sins Rising, where he summons Sin Eater back from the dead so that he can set things in motion while Peter is at a low point with MJ being gone.

We later larnthat the goal of Sin Eater was to gather the Sins of Spider-Man’s villains and use them to turn the Order of the Web into monsters, which Peter feels resposnible for and offers up his own life in exchange for theirs, because of course he would. And Kindred knows this.

Kindred is thoughtful, minipulative, and knows Peter. So it absolutely makes sense why it’s Harry.

Before Harry died in SPSM 200, he made Peter’s life hell because he thought he was responsible for all the suffering in their lives, his dad dying, Gwen, her dad, and he just dogged Peter as much as he could. Your considering that Kindred is a brand new character when he’s the evolution of another character we know, Harry Osborn. That’s his History, there’s all his psychological issues. That’s the mystery, which character could Kindred Be? You figure out everything once you figure that out.

He kept saying he had a plan and he does! We’re in the middle of it! The endgame is still unclear but you can’t say you hate a story until it’s finished.

What made Harry’s reveal so shocking was that....well, Harry’s alive! He has been since OMD. And he’s been a good guy! I’ll be honest I thought Kindred was going to be Flash Thompson since he ticks off a lot of boxes except for going to hell, he was hero but I figured that maybe someone (mehpesto) wanted to screw with him? But no, Harry Makes complete and total sense.

As for the Order of the Web, I’M ACTUALLY TOTALLY WITH YOU ON THAT!!!!

Anya, Jessica, and Julia have nothing to do with Spider-Man, and all they really do is dilute the brand. Gwen should honestly stay in her own universe where she came from but Marvel took the wrong lesson from Spiderverse and such again so now she’s going to college at ESU......on earth 616....despite having an entire world of her own which SHE FUCKING LIVES ON. She’s trying to be like Miles is now, but can’t be because Gwen being dead is one of those things you don’t touch.

Silk also.......I feel bad, people like her but fucking Slott made her just so Peter could have no strings attached sex with an attractive young woman. I’m glad she’s getting her own series again and focusing on her heritage from what I understand.

Ben and Kaine have way more right to be here than any of them, hell I’d love to see Kaine again. Ben i understand since last time Peter saw him, Dan Slott made him the Jackal for no fucking reason and completely ruined his character.

And I think maybe tonally it might not work, Sins Rising is ultimately a prelude for Last Remains, and that kicks off with all the people Peter feels he’s inspired (Which admittedly is true) become monsters, Kaine’s entire series is him dealing with the fact that he sees himself as a Monster, and Ben’s is......actually I didn’t read his unfortunately, but he was more like Kaine than Peter. So they’ve already dealt with the idea of their own sins, Peter hasn’t, at least not recently I think.

But I honestly thing this Order of the Web should be torn down. Peter, Miles, Jessica (whose doing her own thing and doesn’t even have a passing relation to Spider-Man outside her name), Ben, Kaine, and MAYBE Madam Webb. Gwen should just stay in her own dimension and Silk I think is actually moving to china or something?

I really hope we get something with Ben and Kaine soon, if Pete and MJ get married I’d love to see the three of them patch things up and Have Ben be Peter’s best man since....you know Flash is dead and Harry’s an asshole.

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eris0330 · 5 years ago

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Cards against The four horsemen – Part 1

Genre: Comedy, light angst, Fluff (friendly way… I may eat my own words later on) Summary: A group of three university student from different majors, unite at the grand final party to celebrate their last bit of youth before adulthood. Jimin majored in acting, which granted a bonus to his charming smile and works wonders to get top score. Jungkook majored in the IT department, with a handful extra time to study the works of the dark web. Taehyung got a diploma and a museum attraction for his photography, that he promises to continue with passion. They all had their own career in front of them but decided to stick their heads together, to form secret detective group in honour of finding the truth within a mission. Except... they need your help.

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“Okay, next time I’m not using a whole night with this lady without a proper lead. Either it’s double in cash, or no physical meeting!” Jimin sighed frustatingly as he walked into the room, throwing his black velvet jacket to the ground. Taehyung scanning the photos upon the black board, pinned with photos of a woman in her early 30’s. “I mean, it was your own idea? Could have waited till we got enough to send you out” Taehyung explained, pinning another yellow note to the board.

“We aren’t getting anywhere with this? Mr. Kim asked us to find out if his wife is cheating on him and on top of that, figure out if she has any secrets before he will decide to propose. I spent a whole night with her, without her touching me and you have hundreds of photos, while Jungkook has zero leads upon her social media! We’re supposed to uncover the truth but here we are, waiting for something spectacular to happen?! If we don’t make this a success, this will eliminate our business!” Jimin exhaustedly seated himself in the worn-out couch, rubbing his temples to relax. “What did you expect? Three guys in a torn down apartment and internet to keep us occupied. I’m surprised we even have customers in the first place” Taehyung chuckled, seating himself next to Jimin to stare at their so-called evidence.

“I think the worst part is, we haven’t found any dirt on this woman and trust me, we all have some kind of dirt.” Jimin claimed, untightening his tie to throw it in the bunker of clothes on the floor. Jungkook coughed in their presence, gathering their attention to his desk station. “There is no doubt that this woman has secrets but it’s not easy to find things, when we aren’t the actual person” Jungkook explained, leaning back into his chair. “Then hack her computer or something, you’re the IT guy!” Jimin answered, flapping his arms in the air to have them fall back by his sides in defeat. “It’s not that easy to hack someone, specially when you don’t know what you’re actually looking for.” Jungkook sighed, looking upon his screen filled with the target’s social media pages. It was drawn to be quiet in the apartment, as they all sat in despair of the mission that is bound to wash down the drain. It was as if a light struck upon Jungkook, as he sat energetically at the edge of his chair. The boys giving him a twisted brow, worrying whether he got a stroke. “Remember Y/N from first year?” He questioned the others, engaging them to think back into the past. “The one who got kicked out in second year, for trying to hack the school system?” Jimin questioned back, looking upon Taehyung who were sitting dumbfounded. “Exactly, I’m pretty sure she didn’t just randomly stop because of that and that she is still doing her thing. Last time I spoke to her, she was working for the FBI about the dark web. After that, she went off the grid.” Jungkook explained, excited about the idea that you could be a part of their plan. “And how do you expect us to find her? She went off the grid, which means she is basically nowhere to be found.” Jimin asked exhaustedly, thinking this was the worst plan they had ever come up with. “Well... She always told me I could contact her, if I just used my dark web name” Jungkook answered softly, shrugging his shoulders. “Dark web name??” Jimin added confused, waiting for an enlighten. “Means I don’t use my real name but a name I’m known for, when I studied the dark web back in university. It’s kind of like a username but this can be used everywhere.” Jungkook explained, making Jimin slightly annoyed that it was nothing but rubbish within the conversation. “So what, you’re going to beam up the sky with your ‘dark web name’ and hope she sees it? Not only is it morning right now but this whole batman idea, is so far up in the fantasy.” Jimin mockingly spoke, while Taehyung was thinking deeply. “Exactly! That’s it!” Taehyung outburst, making the boys stare at him in disbelief. “You’re going to beam up the sky???” Jimin added confused, while Jungkook tilted his head. “No, you dummy. We’re going to contact her THROUGH the dark web! See it this way; we’re going to post our address into a forum or whatever, of this so-called apartment because in all honestly, no one wants to be here anyways. We use Jungkook’s dark web name at the end, so she knows it’s him!” Taehyung explained, standing up in excitement that the plan sounded so well in his ears. “And if she doesn’t see it?” Jimin questioned, shaking his head in disbelief that he is even asking. “Then we gotta go, cause I ain’t about to find out what kind of people are on the dark web cause’ they decide to check the address.” Taehyung answered, walking towards Jungkook who had already found a forum to post the address. Jimin staring confused but decides to sigh as he gives up trying to stop them- “I’m surrounded by idiots…” Jungkook types down the address of their worn-out apartment, making the post visible for everyone. Taehyung sighed while patting Jungkook’s shoulder, looking upon Jimin on the couch. “And now we wait.”

11 pm.

The sound of a banging door and police siren in the distance, woke the boys from their slumber. They each gave a glance at each other, while gathering different kind of objects in the room to use as a potential weapon. The banging becoming louder and louder, by each step they take towards the entrance. Taehyung turning the door handle, to be flown back by the force of the door flung open. Their eyes wandering in the dim light, watching a hooded figure close the door to look down upon the three men. They each have different scenarios in their minds, of whether they are going to get killed by a stranger or be tortured. “Erhm… hello?” Jungkook spoke out, with his voice shivering out of fear. The hooded figure revealing their identity, to kneel down on eye level. “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY INSANE?! TO POST YOUR ADDRESS ON THE DARK WEB?! ARE YOU BORN YESTERDAY?!” You yelled at them, seeing their body posture changing to scared puppies. They all looked dumbfounded at you, watching your brows frown upon them. “Wow.. the plan really worked..” Jimin whispered, getting your attention as he gulped. “What plan?” You questioned, standing up straight to watch the boys follow. “Our plan was to get in contact with you and here you are!” Taehyung added, flaying his arms around as if he had seen a celebrity. Jungkook sighed lightly as he stepped forward, to notice the height difference. “We are on a mission to find information on someone but we don’t have the skills.. that’s why we need your help”. You pondered on the request, as the boys stood in silence of your eyes scanning their looks. Jimin stepped forward to add in the information, catching your full attention. “Look, maybe we need to explain what we’re doing first. We are having this kind of detective-gang thing and-“ You put a finger upon his lips and another on your own, to simulate shushing. The other staring wide eyed, as you looked around the room in silence. “We gotta go, it’s not safe here. I got a place we can stay, pack your things and follow me. Do not leave anything behind.” You ordered, making the boys hesitate at first but the simplest sound made their skin crawl, as they hurriedly gathered all of their things. When they got all their things, you walked out of the apartment to have them follow you like sheep. “NJ, get the transportation ready” You spoke into a bracelet on your wrist, making the boys watch with furrowed brows at the action. You stopped at the exit, gathering the boys at the front. “There’s an uber coming for you, it knows its destination and I’ll meet you all there.” You explained, watching the headlights of a car come close. Taehyung coming closer, tilting his head with a suitcase pressed against his chest. “But what about you? Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Don’t worry about me, I have my own transportation. All you need to worry about, is to not talk about me or what happened tonight, at all cost.” You added, pushing the boys outside as the car pulled up. An elderly man greeting them, as they looked back to see the entrance being empty. The things stuffed in the car and their road ahead were silent, as they were too scared to speak after of what you have just told them. They were worried if you were a fraud, what was going to happen to them and who would know if they went missing? Everything seemed like a blur, when they all ended at the destination point. They were at a parking lot, while their transportation drove away to a new customer. Their things surrounding them, standing in front of an entrance to a wooded area. They walked closer to investigate as they saw a figure come to sight, they sighed in relief when they could make out your body posture. You were leaning against a motorcycle, seeing the boys stand in awe. “Of course, she has a motorcycle…” Jimin scoffed making you smirk in return, as they all stood in front fo you. You scanned them thoroughly as you put your wrist close to your lips, making them watch curiously. “NJ, did you get the time to search them?” You questioned, making their stomachs turn to hear a voice answer. “They got their usual dirty stuff but they are clean”. It was rough and clear at the same time, making them question if it’s a computer or an actual person. You smirked in delight, crossing your arms as you asked them curiously; “So… Tell me about this so-called ‘Detective group’?”

-To be continued-

#fanfic #fanfiction #bts #bts texts #bts fluff #comedy #fluff #action #detective au #hacker au #romance #jungkook #jimin #taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bangtan #story #writing

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softyhyunjin · 6 years ago

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first ⌲ bang chan

Description: You always come first.

⇥ genre: bestfriend au, college au, love triangle, angst, fluff

⇥ pairing: chan x reader

⇥ word count: 9.7k

a/n: @changbeanie are you happy now lmao

“Hey, remember how we met in English?”

The campus was semi lifeless and you were both late to class. It was a bad idea to get ice cream during the passing period because Thursday was the busiest day of the week for the both of you. You had just came out from your chemistry lecture while Minho had just finished his contemporary dance lecture. You met him at the usual spot: the ice cream truck by the bell tower in the middle of campus.

Knowing Minho, he would want to get ice cream right after he got out of dance, and make you wait in line with him. You guess it wasn’t too bad since you wanted some too…

“How can I take the time to remember how we met when we’re late for class? You could’ve waited to get ice cream after we finish math,” you stressed, taking another bite of your vanilla ice cream.

“Says the one who’s almost done with their ice cream,” Minho chuckled, nodding over to your ugly bitten waffle cone.

Actually, you could recall your first encounter with Minho. You remembered bumping into him on the first day of class last year, but it was his fault for not paying attention. Minho had his schedule in one hand and the campus map in the other. You were prepared for your classes because you took a look around campus a couple days prior to when the term began. Minho just liked to do things very last minute.

Minho happily licked the creamy pink swirl in his sugar cone, taking his sweet time to indulge the milky strawberry flavor. He chose to prioritize food over changing into clean clothes. His outfit wasn’t bad. It was just a black t-shirt along with a pair of black sweatpants, but there was no point in carrying a duffle bag filled with clean clothes if he wasn’t going to change into them.

You noticed how the beads of sweat on the sides of his face were slowly making its way down to his jawline. Your attention was suddenly on his neck. When Minho spoke, you watched how his adam’s apple would bob up and down. How insanely attractive, and he’s a dance major, you thought, eyes widening once you realized what had just happened.

Those kinds of thoughts never came to your mind, and they shouldn’t at all.

“Something on my face?” He questioned, pointing at himself. Bothered with what had just happened, you pulled out the napkin you were saving in your pocket for later but gave it to Minho instead.

“Just wipe your stupid face.”

ii.

“Have you ever tried fried chicken with vegemite?”

“Just because I’m Australian doesn’t mean I put vegemite on everything, Y/N,” Chan stretched from his seat, “I think it’s time for a study break.”

“Can you-“

“Yes, I’m going to order chicken in a minute. Just let me grab my phone and we can have it with Sprite, okay?” He chuckled at your eagerness.

Your brain was fried from all that studying. Chemistry is no joke. The midterm was coming up, and you couldn’t take the chance of putting off your academics till last minute. When you were feeling lazy, you realized how lucky you were to be stuck with Chan for another four years so that he could push you to do work. Also, he’s always hard working and on top of his shit. That means you could always go to him when you needed help, and he could never refuse when it came to you.

“Okay,” he said after getting off his phone, “They said it would take up to forty minutes, and I ordered extra radish cubes too.”

Bringing your palms to your cheeks, you pressed them and stared at Chan with so much adoration in your eyes. “Thank you, Chan,” you whispered.

Grimacing, he said with disgust written all over his face, “Don’t do that, it’s gross.”

You scowled at your best friend. When your stomach growled loudly, Chan laughed at how pitiful you looked. “Chan, what do we do for forty more minutes?” You pouted.

“What else, Y/N? Study, duh.”

You pretended to not hear that, asking again, “Huh? What should we do for forty more minutes?”

Chan placed his hands on his hips and gave you a hard eye roll. Then, he waddled into the kitchen and came back with a miniature sized jar known to be the most despicable spread on earth. “Why don’t you spread some vegemite on toast and just eat it?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to look at him and the jar of vegemite, “You’re disgusting, get that away from me!”

“You’ve never even tried it. Stop basing its taste off of shitty reviews from Youtubers. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes.”

A light bulb lit in Chan’s head. He snickered at the creative idea he came up with, “I’ll put the spread on different foods in my fridge and pantry. Then, you guess what I combined the vegemite with. How’s that?”

That was actually not a bad idea. It’s either studying until the chicken comes or fool around, and you really did not want to look at chemical equations anymore.

“Fine, but don’t go easy on me,” you grinned.

“Don’t count on it.”

For the next half hour, you both took turns blindfolding each other. You regret going too easy on him with the combination of chocolate and vegemite, apples with vegemite, and kimchi with vegemite. On the other hand, Chan had no mercy when it came to feeding you his disturbing concoctions. He was having the time of his life when he combined the spread with a slab of American cheese, a dried anchovy, and a banana.

They weren’t even paired separately, he combined them all at once.

“You’re lucky I didn’t get sick from your disgusting combinations,” you said angrily with a mouthful of chicken.

“If you didn’t feel well, I could’ve had this all to myself,” he waved a piece of chicken that was shaped like a fat boot.

“Hey, can you do me a solid?”

Taking a huge gulp from the Sprite bottle, Chan cocked an eyebrow. “What is it this time?”

“Can you help my friend and I study? We’re a little rusty with calculus, but I promise you that it won’t be as tiring as it is with chemistry.”

“Do I get paid?”

“I’ll get you a whole fried chicken, all yours Chan. How’s that?” You know for a fact that he could not say no. A whole fried chicken was on the line and free of charge. An addict like him would do anything for chicken, even if it meant suffering for a couple hours with you. Licking off the grease and crumbs on the edges of his lips, Chan hummed. You knew he caved in the moment you mentioned something free.

“You really know how to do business. Throw in some radish cubes and it’s a deal,” Chan raised his hand to shake, but you swatted it away because it was oily and covered in crumbs.

“Deal.”

iii.

“I thought I was going to get some hot chick’s digits by the end of this study session, but I guess not.”

Snorting over Chan’s disappointment, you propped your chin on the table with your palm. Today was different. It was different because Minho joined the study session. Minho was waiting in line to order while you and Chan were gossiping in the corner booth of the coffee shop. People would assume the place would be packed at this time since it was only a ten-minute walk from campus, but it was surprisingly not. “Did you really think I would introduce you to a girl?”

“Why not? You’re passing chemistry because of me,” he shrugged, rummaging his backpack for his agenda and laptop to take a look at his due dates for the week.

“No. I’m passing because I’m staying focused and working hard.”

“Yeah, due to the study sessions you insist on having with me. Y/N, just admit it. Your success will be credited to me,” Chan smugly boasted. Taking a look around the coffee shop, your eyes were drawn to the hipster neon sign behind Minho.

You giggled at Chan while reading the neon purple font, ‘wake up and smell the coffee’. Turning around as if on cue, Minho made eye contact with you, raising his brows, then, playfully sticking his tongue out before turning back to move forward in line. That definitely caught you off guard. Even Chan noticed when he saw your smile falter after looking away from Minho’s backside.

Minho’s small, playful gesture made you feel uncontrollably giddy. When he came back to the booth, you had trouble maintaining eye contact when he asked you a question. Recently, it was more difficult to converse with him than usual since you were bothered by the thought of him being more attractive. As cheesy as it sounds, your heart was pounding against your chest, and it felt more powerful than usual.

When Chan said something that seemed amusing to Minho, Minho would lightly chuckle and glance at you from the corner of his eye. As you thought about it more and more, you’ve come to a realization that Minho was definitely cuter than before. When he gently shook your wrist to ask a question, a fluttery feeling sprouted in your stomach. It was hard to concentrate on your work because his smile was distracting.

There were several moments where Chan caught you staring at Minho. You were more quiet than usual and he knew something was up. Chan recognized your symptoms, and you were starting to as well. While you were in denial, Minho excused himself to use the restroom, leaving you with a fully aware Chan sitting across from you. Before you could admit to what you were thinking of, Chan had already beat you to it.

“Someone’s developing a crush,” he teased softly while surfing the web.

iv.

Several weeks have passed since Minho’s joined your study group. Surprisingly, Chan and Minho got along with each other just fine. In the beginning, you were actually a little worried since it took some time for Minho to get comfortable with you back then. Luckily, those two shared common interests in video games and dance.

“Let’s call it a night. I think we’ve studied enough,” Chan yawned, closing his laptop afterward. He’s developed some dark circles from staying up all night over these past couple of days. Thanks to him, you and Minho are fully prepared and ready to take the math final.

Blinking slowly, Chan decided to cross his arms on the table, using it to cushion his head. You packed your laptop and notebooks, stretching when you got off the chair. You nudged his elbow, “Chan, go brush your teeth and wash your face. You can sleep on your bed after.” Chan mumbled something incoherent before getting up to use the washroom. You and Minho said goodbye, and you reminded Chan to lock the door.

It was almost 4 am, and you still had to walk back to your apartment. Thank god Minho lived a block away from you or else you would have to walk back by yourself. It was tempting to sleep over at Chan’s, but you didn’t want Minho to feel left out since he wasn’t as close to Chan like how you were. You didn’t mind walking back with Minho either. It just meant you had fifteen minutes with him all to yourself.

Even though it was extremely cold outside, you both walked slowly. Minho and you were both wearing black windbreakers over hoodies. He cupped his hands, blowing warm air into them and rubbing intensely to heat his cold fingers. Then, Minho used the hood from his gray Thrasher hoodie from underneath the windbreaker to cover his head. You silently watched, amusing yourself by breathing out a small cloud in the cold air.

“Can I ask you a question?” Minho suddenly asked.

You chuckled, giving him a look, “You’re asking one right now, aren’t you?”

He shook his head lightly, chuckling at your smartass response. “Yeah, and I’m going to ask another one.”

“Hit me,” you raised your eyebrows.

Minho cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you like anyone?”

Your stomach dropped because you didn’t know how to respond. Yes, you did like someone. Were you willing to tell him though? No, because he was the person you liked. “No, does it seem like I do?” You cooly responded.

Minho rolled his eyes, “If you didn’t, do you think I would’ve even asked?”

“Yeah, because you’re nosy!” You joked.

“Are you sure you don’t?” He asked again.

“Who do you think I like then?”

Minho shrugged with puppy eyes, “Dunno, maybe you like Chan?”

You laughed at the mention of Chan. No way, you could never. You didn’t see him in that way, and you don’t think you could ever. Although you and Chan were very close, you never saw him romantically. “No, never. He’s only a friend, always.”

“Hmmmmm, that’s what they always say.” Minho teased, leaning in to show you his wiggling eyebrows.

You nervously gulped at the unfamiliar close proximity with Minho. As you leaned away, he leaned in further to mess with you. Losing your balance, your left foot slipped on the wet pavement, causing you to grab a hold of Minho’s arm. You yelped, grabbing onto him tightly. His hand caught the small of your back, and you were suffering. You were lucky that he was unaware of your crush on him.

Minho broke into a grin, helping you get back on your feet, “I’ve cracked the Da Vinci code haven’t I?”

“I don’t like him,” you said. Flustered with what had just happened, you walked ahead, leaving a laughing Minho behind you. Just a block away from your apartment, and that was it.

“I swear I won’t tell him, Y/N!” He yelled at you. You picked up your pace, leaving him behind even more.

“DON’T EVEN BOTHER.”

“Why do you keep smiling creepily on your phone? Are you dealing with the Black Market or something?” Chan looked from the television screen with a confused expression.

“Mhmmm,” you brushed him off, finishing your text to press send.

He rolled his eyes, “She’s not even listening.”

You immediately got up from the couch while keeping your eyes on the screen of your phone. Chan stared at you with wide eyes. Something was odd and you were starting to scare him. “You’re not meeting with a client, right?” He asked.

“I have to go home and get ready. Chan! He asked if I wanted to get food with him,” you paced back and forth between the couch and coffee table.

“Ahhh, I get it now. She sold herself in the Black Market. Who would want to buy that?” Chan shivered at the image of you providing escort services. He was only joking though, he wanted to see how long it took you to actually start listening to him.

“You’re so annoying, I did not sell myself on the Black Market. I’m selling you,” you whacked Chan with the nearest pillow you could grab. “But… I need to go home and get ready because I’m going out soon.”

Chan flinched and grabbed the pillow from you, “Are you out of your mind? It’s Christmas Eve right now, there’s nothing opened at this time. It’s 10.”

“I’m sure at least one place is still opened around this time. Now, take me home, please. I need to get ready,” you were quick on your feet, approaching the door in a second.

Sluggishly removing himself from the couch and trudging past the counter to grab the car keys, Chan groaned as he passed by you. While slipping his sneakers on, he complained, “It’s Christmas Eve, Y/N. I just wanted to stay in and watch Christmas movies.”

“You didn’t even have any in mind,” you rolled your eyes, following him shortly after putting on your shoes.

You both walked in the hallway, and the sound of his keys jingled as he spun them around his finger. He turned back and said, “I had A Christmas Story in mind.”

“Boring, I’ll pass.”

Chan shook his head and pressed the button for the elevator once you two reached the end of the hall. He yawned while hitting the parking lot button with his index finger. When you arrived at the parking lot, Chan aimed his keys at the white 2015 Mercedes Benz SL550 at the corner of the parking lot garage. After hearing the car beep, you rushed to the car and hopped in the passenger seat.

During the drive, you bumped up the Christmas playlist Chan made on his Spotify account. As you jammed out on Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You, he interrupted you. “Who are you going out with so late?” He asked.

You turned down the volume and sheepishly smiled at him, “Mmmmmm… Minho?”

“Ohhhh boy,” he rolled his eyes, “So how's this crush going? Do you like him a lot?”

You thought about it for a moment before telling Chan your honest feelings. “At first, I didn’t want to like him, and I was in complete denial. But eventually, I guess I finally accepted it. The more I spend time with him, the more I grow to like him even more. I feel comfortable around him,” you blushed, feeling embarrassed to tell Chan these kinds of things.

“I guess,” Chan shrugged and then put on a salty face to scold you, “Don’t stay out too late, and Merry Early Christmas since you wanted to be with Lee Minho instead!”

He pulled over to the sidewalk in front of your apartment. You shook his arm roughly, laughing at him for being such a child. “Merry Early Christmas Chan! I’ll see you around.”

“See you around Y/N.”

vi.

“Ugh, there’s nothing opened at this time. Not even McDonalds is open,” you pouted as Minho drove away from the fast food restaurant, staring at it more longingly than you’ve ever done in your whole life.

“Hey,” he teased, “You’re the hungry one, not me. You were the one who insisted that we go out at this time.”

You sighed in defeat. He wasn’t wrong though, you were the one to suggest going out at this time. As your mind wandered to the idea of binge eating hot tteokbokki and kimbap, your mouth was slowly watering. Frowning over your disappointment, you mumbled, “Tch, you offered.”

“You’re lucky I did some grocery shopping yesterday. Do you want to come over to my place?” Minho asked.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. It wasn’t like it was your first time coming over, you’ve been there countless times. But the thought of spending Christmas Eve with him had this romantic mood to it. Honestly, it was just you overthinking the scenario and you needed to stop yourself. You were fully aware of how much you had just over thought this situation and toned it down by 99 percent.

“Okay.”

Luckily, the drive back to Minho’s place didn’t take too long. As you punched in the digits, 1004, you slightly cringed at your friend. You’d understand if his passcode was his birthday: 1025, but 1004? Angel my ass, you thought. His features were blessed to look like an angel’s, but he sure did not act like one.

You walked in before he did and took off your shoes. The first thing that came to your mind was finding yourself something to eat, and if you couldn’t, no problem. You would make Minho cook you something up.

“Oh, hey! I have some instant tteokbokki. Want me to make that for you and add cheese and sausage with it?” Minho held up a frozen pack of rice cakes after fishing in his freezer.

Your mouth went agape and you nodded excitedly. Minho chuckled at your reaction, thinking it was pretty cute for a moment. Then, he began to take out the other ingredients as you stood there looking at the nutrition facts on the back of the package. “It’s worth two servings, are you going to eat it with me?”

“If I don’t, then something is obviously wrong with me,” he cocked an eyebrow.

Minho just loves food. Nothing could ever get between him and his love for food. Throughout this semester, it was pretty much a routine to treat yourselves out by the end of the week. Most of the time, Minho was the one suggesting new places to try out while you almost always greed since you weren’t much of a picky eater. His favorite foods consist of jjamppong, tteokbokki, and buldak. Literally, anything spicy was his go-to option.

Your face scrunched in a teasing manner, “Who knows? Maybe you don’t want to get fat.”

Minho turned around with wide eyes and scoffed, “Who am I making food for at 11 again, and you’re calling me fat? Y/N, me? Fat? Have you seen this face? Maybe you’re the fat one.”

You grabbed the roll of paper towels on the counter, pretending to threaten to hit him with it if anything else came out of his mouth. Minho flinch and pretended to be very scared at your sudden change of movement. You lightly tapped the roll on his head and he grabbed your wrist to secure you from bopping his head with it again. When he took the paper towel roll from your hand with his free one, he placed it back on the counter.

Minho grabbed your other wrist, pulling you in closer to him. “Now you’re threatening me in my household? You have some guts, Y/N,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as you blinked at him like a fool.

Your flustered self would’ve been done for if you two were any closer to each other, but your stomach saved the day by loudly growling out loud. Minho broke eye contact by looking at your stomach. He let go of your wrists, letting them drop to your sides and laughed.

“Alright, let’s make some tteokbokki.”

Cooking with Minho was probably one of the most annoying things you have ever done with this man. He was so picky when it came to preparing foods, especially if directions were written on the package. You have to follow everything it says, or else it wouldn’t taste good.

“Finally! We can eat,” you peeked over to Minho for a thumbs up.

He shook his head, “Nuh uh, not yet. I need to add the garnishes.” Grabbing the small shaker on the kitchen table, he sprinkled some roasted sesame seeds on top of the tteokbokki. “Okay, now we can eat,” he chuckled.

You didn’t know what it was, but instant tteokbokki somehow tasted better than before. As you kept struggling to pick up the rice cakes with chopsticks, the corners of Minho’s lips quirked upward. It was hard to notice since they were covered in sauce. Minho easily stabbed a rice cake, bringing it up to your mouth. “Maybe you need training chopsticks, Y/N,” he cooed, mouthing at you to open your mouth wide.

You glared at Minho but leaned in for the rice cake since it was already in front of you. You slowly chewed at the glutinous rice cake covered in that the thick, spicy sauce Minho loved. Your eyes watered at the spice level, but Minho was totally fine. “I have strawberry milk in the fridge,” he nodded towards the fridge.

“I’ll drink it once we finish, can’t be a pussy now, can I?” You huffed.

“Certainly not, oh! Five more minutes till Christmas,” Minho said while scrolling through his phone. When you peeked over, he was on Snapchat and responding to his streaks.

“What’s Jisung doing?” You asked about his best friend.

“Making cookies with his girlfriend. I told him to add walnuts in there.”

“Isn’t he allergic to walnuts?”

“Mhmmm,” Minho nodded.

Minho received another notification from Jisung on Snapchat. When he pressed on the red square icon, it was a picture of Jisung flipping him off, saying ‘hope you fucking eat ass once you give Y/N her gift’. Minho sighed, remembering to slap the shit out of Jisung the next time he ran into him in the cafeteria. You looked at Minho, blinking in shock. “What the hell did you get me?”

“Nothing,” he laughed nervously, but you weren’t buying it at all, “Okay, fine. Wait here.”

Minho came back with a small, gold gift bag that was filled to the brim with tissue paper. Placing it on the table, he slowly slid the present to you, nervously anticipating your reaction. The bag was no larger than a bag of regular sized chips and was very lightweight. You removed the tissue paper, enjoying the crisp ruffling sounds it made. When you reached into the bag, you felt something hard and roughly textured with bumps. Once you pulled out the mystery gift from the bag, you were ready to use it to smack this man in the face.

“Thanks for the rubber drumstick dog toy, I’ll be sure to put it to good use,” you said, pretending to inspect the chew toy by holding it near your face.

Minho smirked and chuckled at your reaction. He just loved to mess with you, and he did the trick by buying a plastic dog toy from the dollar store. Minho knew you were going to throw it at him soon, so he reached into his pockets.

Bringing out a small, flat square box, Minho slid your actual present onto the table this time. The white gift box tied sealed with red ribbons didn’t really make you hope for much. If it was a shock toy, you wouldn’t be surprised.

As you slowly undone the tiny ribbon star, Minho impatiently drummed his fingers against the table. “You’re so slow,” he mocked.

“Let me be,” you huffed, “Besides, it’s going to be another gag gift anyways.”

“That’s what you think,” he mumbled.

When you finally removed the lid, Minho couldn’t help but smile when you gasped at the gift. It was a simple necklace with a thin silver chain and small, aquamarine gemstone pendant. To think he was even capable of thinking of getting you something like that was truly shocking. “Wow,” you said, startled.

“Do you like it?” Minho subtly rubbed the side of his neck. Although he was satisfied with your reaction, he was worried that you might reject his gift. He had trouble finding a gift for you, but he stumbled across this necklace. There was a meaning behind the necklace, but Minho wouldn’t bring it up unless you did. It was too cheesy for him, but it seemed to fit you, and he just stuck with it.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you stuttered.

When the clock struck 12, it was finally Christmas. Several fireworks went off and both of your phones were buzzing with notifications from friends and family. Minho sighed in relief when you said you liked the necklace. When he was going to reach for the necklace, you beat him to it and easily put it on yourself without the help of a mirror or him. Great, because it would be weird if he was the one who put it on you.

The little gemstone drop represented the little things in life. Little things included studying together, going to the movies, staying up late to Skype each other, having drinking contests at parties, and pigging out after a long week are the memories that always made him smile when he thought of you. To Minho, little moments like this mattered to him the most.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

vii.

“Chan, I left my wallet at home,” you whined.

Chan shrugged, laughing at your bad luck, “Guess you’re not eating today.”

“No! Buy me food, I’ll buy you chicken tonight.”

“A whole chicken?”

“A whole chicken is expensive, so no.”

“Sorry, I guess I don’t have enough for you,” he scratched the back of his head.

You slapped his shoulder and Chan hissed at the annoying pain. While Chan rubbed his shoulder, you began to accidentally eavesdrop when you recognized a familiar voice, two familiar voices actually.

“Hey, is that her?” One said.

“Yeah,” Minho said.

You turned around and spotted Minho walking towards you with Jisung beside him. When you made eye contact with him, he waved to you and picked up his pace. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you blushed.

Chan frowned at your unusual feminine side and began to cough obnoxiously, “Oof, I think I’m getting sick Y/N.”

You ignored Chan and continued your little conversation with Minho and Jisung. Jisung recently lost a bet with Minho so he had to treat Minho out for the whole day. Knowing the ridiculous amount Minho can eat in one sitting, Jisung’s wallet would be nearly empty by the end of the day. Poor kid, this is why you never make bets with Minho.

“Y/N, we’re next,” Chan interrupted the conversation. You said goodbye and went to order your meal with Chan.

“See you later.”

Chan ordered a burger combo whereas you ordered a chicken sandwich combo. Once you two found a spot to sit, he remembered to grill you into buying him a whole fried chicken for tonight. Normally you would say no and tell him to suck it up, but you were distracted this time. You kept glancing over to Minho unaware that you agreed with Chan. Your body was physically present with your best friend, but your mind was not.

Minho sat on the other side of the cafeteria, facing you. When Jisung said something hilarious, Minho’s eyes morphed into crescents, bringing out his cute eye smile. From time to time, Minho would make eye contact with you, pretending to taunt you by nodding his head and mouthing ‘wanna fight’. Jisung would stop midway into his conversation with Minho and turn around to see the culprit distracting his friend, you.

“Your crush on Minho is so obvious,” Chan rolled his eyes.

“Don’t say his name out loud, we’re in public.”

“Y/N, he’s all the way across the cafeteria. You’re overthinking it,” he rolled his eyes again.

“It’s not obvious. You just think it is because you know,” you glared at him.

“No, it’s because you never act that way around me or anyone else. That’s how I know it’s obvious,” Chan said, getting a little annoyed.

“How would you know?”

“Because I just do, it’s not hard Y/N.”

viii.

“I’m so full! Thanks for the meal,” Chan burped.

You whacked the back of his head but linked your arm with his shortly after. Chan was unfazed by your sudden skinship because you always did this during the coldest days of the winter. He usually complains and shakes your arm off, but this time he didn’t.

“You’re eating my wallet, you fatass,” you stuck your tongue out to tease him.

“What’s the point of saving money when its purpose is solely used for spending?” Chan wisely said.

“Spending money on you is the worst. You literally eat my wallet like a garbage shoot.”

Chan chuckled at your insult and offered to buy you a hot chocolate. You were unable to refuse his offer because he was actually paying for once. You excitedly jumped up and down while holding his arm, causing Chan to be shaken back and forth repeatedly. “If you don’t stop that, the offer will cease to exist,” he blinked hard after feeling a little dizzy from your rough movements.

“Okay. Let’s go to Cha Cha Cafe, I really like their peppermint hot cocoa.”

In order to get to Cha Cha Cafe, you had to walk one more block further and cross on your left. Chan was ranting to you about his lab partner and how she pretty much screwed him over the other day. When he spoke, the fog breathed out looked like dragon’s breath. Oh my god, he was so angry.

“Why don’t you tell your TA?” You suggested.

“You know what? Maybe I just might do that.”

When you spotted the cafe, you groaned at the line inside. Luckily, it wasn’t too packed inside. You quickly crossed the street, dragging Chan like a raggedy doll, and walked into the cafe. Once you stepped foot inside, the aroma of roasted coffee beans went into your nostrils. It smelled really good and the thought of hot cocoa on a cold Saturday night made you excited.

“Hey, isn’t that Minho?” Chan pointed to the corner of the room.

You followed the direction of his finger and spotted Minho talking to an unfamiliar person. “Yeah?”

Minho briefly made eye contact with you and looked away. Usually, he would come over to say hi, but he didn’t. You were curious and snapped out of it when Chan tugged on your sleeve. It was your guys’ turn to order. After Chan paid, you both waited by the pickup counter since all the seats were filled.

“Who’s he with?” Chan asked, peeking at the person sitting across from Minho. You were confused and became more nosy the longer you stared.

When you looked over, a girl with a chocolate brown shoulder-length bob giggled at something Minho said. She wore a red chiffon long sleeve blouse and dark see-through leggings under her black shorts. It’s freezing around this time of the year, wow, just wow. As your eyes trailed down her legs, you eyed the black patent leather ankle boots that must have costed a fortune.

You looked at your own wardrobe choice, suddenly feeling self-conscious at your denim jacket, distressed jeans, and worn out Vans. You never dress up.

“Order 165!”

You unlink your arm from Chan’s and grabbed your peppermint cocoa. Chan looked up to see if there were any free spots, but still no luck. When you two were about to walk away, Minho called you over. “Y/N!”

You saw him walking towards you with the unfamiliar girl. Eyeing at you from head to toe, she tried to subtly link arms with Minho but obviously failed when both you and Chan glanced at her at the same time. “Hey,” you said slowly.

“We were just about to leave, you can take our seats,” Minho offered.

You looked at the stranger beside him and reached a hand out to her, “Hi, I’m Minho’s friend, Y/N. And that’s Chan.”

She glanced at Minho before going in the handshake, finally introducing herself which satiated the bubbling curiosity in your system, “Yeri, nice to meet you.”

“How do you know Minho?” Chan asked, beating you to it. You were glad though, you didn’t want to ask, it seemed too much out of your way to do so. Minho sighed, a little embarrassed but laughed at the question. He was finally caught red-handed by you and he couldn’t lie. He unlinked Yeri’s arm from his and entwined his fingers with hers.

Giving her a soft smile before he looked over to you, he said, “She’s actually my girlfriend.”

The way she tightly held his hand and intensely eyed for your reaction seemed like she was taunting you.

What the fuck.

Chan was fully aware of your feelings towards Minho so the atmosphere was suddenly uncomfortable for himself and you. You were speechless and tried your best to keep a poker face. “Since when?” You asked. “I mean, congrats. But since when? You never told me.”

“Mmmm,” Minho looked at the ceiling, thinking to when Yeri became his girlfriend.

“Two weeks ago,” Yeri laughed. Minho’s eyes widened as he nodded at her.

“That’s right,” he agreed, “Long story, but it’s getting late. I have to get Yeri home, but we should meet up later this week.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you guys around then?” He waved, “Have fun on your date!”

“Nice meeting you guys!” Yeri said.

You watched as they left, feeling more frustrated when you replayed the whole scene in your head over and over again. Once you felt the tingling sensation from your nose, you closed your eyes to try fighting back tears from forming in your eyes. Chan noticed and led you away from the cafe.

There was a park nearby and it was completely empty at this time of the night. You walked to the swings and seated yourself on one and Chan sat on the other. You gently kicked the sand and stared at it as it fell into a small pile in front of you. You didn’t care if your shoes were ruined with sand all over them. You didn’t care if they seeped into the holes and cracks of your sneakers.

Tightly gripping onto the swing’s chain, you felt a hot tear roll down your cheek. Soon, you were sniffling. Chan stayed quiet and watched the whole time. He sighed in frustration, still bothered by the situation just as much as you were.

The ringtone notification went off. After buzzing in your pocket multiple times, you patted your denim jacket, removing your phone from one of your inside pockets. Quickly wiping away your fresh tears, you saw a couple notifications from Minho.

What was supposed to come out as a sigh came out as a whimper from you. Chan abandoned his swing and came over. He grabbed your phone, quickly skimming through Minho’s texts and then put it in his pockets. His arms wrapped around you, and he rubbed your back to soothe your heartbroken state.

Minho: sorry if telling you to have fun on your date with chan made you both feel uncomfortable

Minho: yeri gets super jealous easily

Minho: if she knew you were single, she’d suspect that you like me or something

Minho: LMFAOOOO that’s funny and I always talk about you to her

Minho: but I know you’re mad because I didn’t tell you right away but I’ll make it up to you with whatever you want to eat and tell you everything from the start

Minho: okay?? Pls don’t be too mad Y/N ): I’m sorry

Nothing made sense to you anymore. You really had your hopes up for Minho. To think that you were the only girl he was close to was absolutely your the biggest downfall when it came to liking him.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “Just let it out, it’s okay.”

You cried and leaned in to hug his torso. When Chan felt your tight grip on his jacket, he hugged you closer with one hand on your back and the other behind your head. Chan began to caress your hair to try calming you. Once he gained enough confidence, he gently placed his chin on top of your head. By the time you started sobbing, the center of Chan’s white shirt was wet, covered in your hot tears and fresh snot.

“It’s okay,” he said softly.

An unusual feeling began to stir inside of Chan. It’s happened before. There’s no denying that, but it always went away. This time, it really hit a home run. As you cried, burying your face deeper into his stomach, Chan felt his heart aching yet uncontrollably pounding against his chest.

ix.

Minho: what’s up?

Minho: Y/N

Y/N: What?

Minho: you’re being off

Y/N: Wdym

Minho: you’re ignoring me

You paused and stared at your phone’s screen. It wasn’t like you were fully avoiding him. Even though you didn’t have any classes with him this time, you still met up at your usual spot when he asked. Maybe he noticed when you kept rejecting his offer to hang out.

You weren’t lying, you were actually busy. Well, you were finding ways to busy yourself.

Y/N: No I’m not

Minho: let’s hang out on saturday then

Minho: sound good?

Y/N: I have to help Chan go grocery shopping

Y/N: sorry

Minho: i know you’re lying y/n, i literally ran into him at the market the other day

Minho: tell me why you’re being like this

Minho: is this about not telling you about yeri first?

Minho: i told you i was sorry many times but i still need to make it up to you and tell you everything

Y/N: It’s not that Minho

Minho: then what is it???

You sucked in a deep breath, burying your face into your pillow before screaming into it. Out of all the people you had to develop feelings for, it just had to be him, but you needed to get over him.

The last time you cried about Minho was the other day. You planned to meet Chan in the cafeteria and bumped into Minho and Yeri. They both passed by and Minho made brief eye contact with you. You walked slower, expecting him to do the same and say hi, but he didn’t. He acted as if he never saw you, walking away hand in hand with his girlfriend.

That night, you were forced to stay at Chan’s. He didn’t want you to stay at your place because he knew you would cry in bed. You’re really lucky to have him around though. Chan kept you occupied with whatever he could think of and persisted when you said you weren’t feeling like doing anything.

You were too tired to cry now.

Minho: y/n

Y/N: I’m not acting like that because I want to, Minho. It’s just hard to be around you lately

Y/N: I don’t hate you and I’m certainly not mad at you. I’m just upset and sad

Minho: is this because of yeri? that’s why i wanted to hang out with you and explain everything

Minho: i’ve apologized countless times, what more do i have to do? i really do mean it

Y/N: I like you and I found out you were dating someone out of the blue

Y/N: That’s why I find it so hard to be around you lately

Y/N: I don’t want it to get in the way of our friendship, so I’m putting these feelings aside and going to forget about them. I’ll get over it, so please give me some time. I’ll be fine by next week

*incoming call*

You swiped the call button to answer Minho’s call.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I-I wasn’t thinking straight enough,” he stuttered on the other line.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” you said feeling a slight ache in your chest.

“I had no idea… I literally had no idea, I’m so sorry. I’m so-” Minho whispered dejectedly, but you cut him off before he could apologize again.

“Don’t Minho, I’ll get over it soon.”

After that night, your relationship with Minho was never the same.

You began to distance yourself in the span of a couple of weeks. At first, it was difficult. You didn’t want to make it obvious and hurt Minho’s feelings. It’s something you had to do in order to help resolve your feelings. You believed it would benefit you while you were getting over him.

In the beginning, it seemed out of place to not have him around anymore, but it worked out in the end. Minho was more occupied with Yeri nowadays and seemed to have forgotten about you. Instead of spending your Friday nights with Minho, you treated it like a resting day, spending the day to focus on your wellbeing and beauty routine. Lately, you were with Chan most of the time.

“Stop it! It tickles!”

Chan laughed as you struggled to get out of his choke hold. He knows your neck is sensitive, so it was funnier to him. Although he was less rough on you today, you still wanted to knee him in the groin for being so annoying.

“No,” he cackled at your misery once again.

“I’ll smash and throw away that useless keyboard in your room,” you threatened.

Chan let go and frowned, “It’s not useless, I actually use it to make songs during my free time.”

“Do you even have any songs for me to listen to?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Y/N, they’re still in the making. Please,” he defended himself.

You stifled a laugh because you know that wasn’t true at all, but Chan only scowled at you. When you laughed at his face, he broke into a grin. You both continued walking from the campus’ food courts to get to the parking lot.

On the way, Minho instantly recognized you once he saw your familiar neon orange Hydro Flask peeking out the side of your backpack. “Hey Y/N!” He greeted you, breaking eye contact the moment you looked at him.

You gave him a small smile and watched as he walked away with Yeri. Chan nudged your arm with his elbow, “You okay?”

“Actually… I’m getting there Chan, slowly, but I’m getting there.”

Chan raised his hand slowly, closing his fingers out of hesitation. Today was different though. You didn’t stare at Minho’s backside as he walked away with Yeri, and Chan didn’t have to snap you out of it. Instead, you were scrolling through IHOP's online menu and daydreaming about their chicken and waffles.

Chan thought to himself, Fuck it, before gently ruffling your hair. When he stopped, you raised an eyebrow, but all he did was give you a cute smile. Pouting at Chan’s soft gesture, you ruffled his hair in return. You were making progress and doing more than well.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

“I’m thinking about breaking up with Yeri.”

Startled by Minho’s abrupt confession, you choked on your jasmine green tea. Minho was spilling his tea, but you were choking on yours. His eyes widened and he repeatedly pat your back to help you settle down. “You okay?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine. What made you think of that all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know… “ He feigned a smile, “I don’t think I would be happy if I stayed with her.”

You frowned, “Then why did you get with her in the first place?”

“Please refrain from hitting me,” he chuckled.

“I won’t,” you said seriously. You only hit someone when you liked them.

“I actually liked Yeri’s friend, Irene, but she transferred out this year. But Yeri asked me out, and I thought, why not? She seemed cool and she’s a good person, but I don’t know anymore.”

You placed your drink on the step below the one you were sitting on and rubbed your hands to warm them. After listening to his story, you sighed deeply. “If you don’t see yourself growing with her, then don’t stay with her. You’ll just be unhappy and lead her on in the process. I mean… Do you love her?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just so frustrated at this point,” he groaned, combing his bangs with his fingers.

You checked the time, and it was almost 9:00. Shoot! You had to be back at Chan’s place by 10 because you had promised to drop by to pick up your laptop and backpack. You can’t believe you left it there the other day, all of your homework was just sitting at his apartment. “Let’s start heading to the train station? I have to be back soon, but we can still talk,” You stood up from your spot, stretching your arms and legs after sitting down for so long.

As the two of you approached the train station, finishing your homework was on your mind. On the other hand, Minho’s unsatisfying relationship with Yeri was on his. The train was unusually packed tonight, and you groaned the minute the train doors opened. Barely five people exited the cart which meant you had to squeeze in with Minho.

The ride was rocky and uncomfortable. For several stops, you could smell a hobo’s body odor from the other side of the cart. As more people kept trailing in, there was less space for you and Minho. At some point, your chest was only an inch away from his. If Minho was tired, he could’ve rested his head on top of yours.

The closer you were getting to Chan’s, the slower Minho walked. During the walk back, he didn’t talk much. From time to time, he would give you a chuckle or smile if you commented on something random. When you mentioned something about his relationship with Yeri, he only replied with short responses.

You were worried because he seemed so dejected. You wanted to help, but it was up to him to make his own choices. You didn’t want to dictate anything, but you knew for sure that if he wasn’t happy with his relationship, then it was time to say goodbye.

When you finally arrived in front of Chan’s apartment, Minho asked for a hug. Back then, you would’ve initiated the hug because you liked him, but now you’re over him. He tugged on the sleeve of your hoodie, pulling you in for a tight embrace. “To be honest with you…” He mumbled, “I’ve been thinking about breaking up with Yeri for a while now.”

He pulled away to scan your face for a reaction, but you just blinked at him with tired eyes. Minho nervously sighed, preparing himself to say the douchiest thing ever. “After you confessed, I realized that I like you and I have since we first met, but you’re over me now. Aren’t you?”

As ridiculous as it seems, you knew you were over Minho but a small part of you wanted to say no.

Little did you know, Chan was listening to the conversation this whole time. He went to pick up his mail because he forgot to check the mailbox after unloading groceries from earlier. By the time Minho finished confessing, Chan was fuming. After closing his mailbox shut which resulted in a loud bang, he stepped out to intervene. Gripping tightly on the monthly advertisements and statements he received, he almost crushed them in his hands.

“I-” You said, but Chan cut you off.

“Don’t Y/N, because you goddamn know that you’re not a second choice.”

xi.

“I’m going to be super mad if you drop your phone on my face.”

Chan chuckled at your cute comment. After you said that, he purposely hovered his phone over your face. His couch wasn’t big enough for the two of you to lay down, so you made him sit. That way, you could lay your head on his lap. His legs were very hard and muscular from swimming, but that didn’t stop you from using them as a pillow. Chan was still playing Trivia Crack, but it wasn’t fair for you. He’s been beating you in every round, but he still insists on challenging you to another one.

After he acquired another category, the familiar theme played in the background and you groaned. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“What do you want to play then?” He asked.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, just not that stupid game.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“Just talk,” you blinked.

“We’ve been talking,” Chan teased.

“You know what? I don’t want to talk anymore,” you huffed childishly.

“Get out of my house then,” he retorted.

You slapped his chest, breaking into small fits of laughter because you knew he would never kick you out. Chan’s threats were always lighthearted, and he knew it too. He laughed along, helping you sit up as you removed your head from his lap.

Lately, your growing feelings for Bang Chan scared you.

In the process of getting over Minho, you didn’t want to admit your growing feelings towards Chan. You knew you weren’t fully over him yet, but you were afraid of making it seem like you were using Chan to get over Minho. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, because you genuinely liked him.

At some point, Chan was scared too.

He used to be scared shitless at the thought of developing feelings for you, but nowadays, he could care less. Ever since that night where you discovered Minho’s relationship, Chan knew he liked you. It’s been really tiring to deny afterward, and he had no intention of hiding it anymore. Ever since senior year of high school, he’s been putting his feelings to the side.

Tiring, wasn’t it?

Chan teased you even more and you tried smacking him again. He always found you predictable, catching your wrist in his hand before yours could come in contact with his chest. “I don’t think so,” he leaned in, laughing at your struggling state.

“Not fair, you’re way stronger than I am,” you whined as he got a hold of your other wrist.

As he held both of your wrists in his hands, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. Chan looked down, feeling nervous yet happy at the close proximity while you were a queasy mess. It was nice to be physically and emotionally closer to someone. Whether it was giving you a comforting hug or holding on to your wrists to keep yourself from attacking him, Chan always wished for one thing: he wished it lasted longer. When you pulled away, he gently let go, feeling a little disappointed.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?” Chan asked.

You nodded, “Go for it.”

“Do you still have feelings for Minho?”

Startled by his question, you sat up, bringing your knees up to hug. “I wouldn’t know, Chan. As of now, I feel like I’m over him completely, but you never know. I can’t guarantee anything.”

After Minho confessed that one night, you told him how you felt the next day. You knew he was only confused, and it would never work out with him. It took you long enough to realize, but you finally did it. You knew you were better off with someone else, and Chan was right.

You are never a second choice.

“Ah, I see,” he said, suddenly becoming quiet.

“I just can't see myself liking him all over again, I’m happy at where I am right now. I don’t want any more emotional baggage, really.”

“That’s good.”

You sheepishly smiled, “I also like someone else too, so … Yeah.”

Chan’s heart raced. He felt all sorts of emotions at the moment. He felt hopeful, surprised, and disappointed, all at the same time.

He was hopeful that your crush could be him since you’ve been spending most of your time with him nowadays.

He was also surprised because it meant you were doing well, and most likely over Minho.

Lastly, Chan felt disappointed at the scenario that played in his head: you being with someone who wasn’t and most definitely better than him.

“Who?”

You shook your head, giving him a teasing smile. “Only time will tell.”

“Because I like someone too.”

“Who?”

“If you paid attention, time would tell you,” he laughed, combing the waves of his hair with his fingers. Your face scrunched in confusion as you were still unaware of what he was trying to tell you. “Time?” You asked.

“Time,” he nodded.

xii.

And time most certainly did.

One moment you were sitting on Chan’s couch. The next, you were on his bed, straddling his lap during a heated kiss. Chan parted his lips slightly, slowly increasing the pressure to deepen the kiss. He was the first to pull away, chuckling at the sight of your swollen lips. While maintaining eye contact, he dominantly flipped you over, changing his and your positions, causing you to squeal. Chan placed a knee between your legs as he gripped on your waist to keep himself up.

While biting your lower lip, you flirtatiously glanced down at Chan’s. His lips were smudged and swollen with your favorite lip balm tint. He leaned in, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. His hands were soft and warm. You didn’t want him to feel unreciprocated from your lack of contact, so you wrapped an arm around his neck and placed your other hand onto his chest.

Chan missed the feeling of kissing you and leaned in to capture your lips once more. He took over, using his tongue to part your mouth slowly, then playfully caressing yours with his. You pulled him closer to you, enjoying the churning feeling that was growing inside of your stomach. When you stopped feeling his chest and moved your hands to run through his dark waves, Chan used less tongue and began to tease you. While catching your bottom lip between his teeth, he gently nibbled, finishing off the kiss with a long tug.

He plopped down beside you, feeling more lighthearted than ever. You both breathed heavily from making out, chests heaving and eyes on the ceiling. Your heart pounded against your chest, and Chan combed a hand through his hair before sighing in content. When he turned to face you, you turned your head and smiled.

Bang Chan was cute when he was smiling because his eye smile was more prominent. They formed into crescents, making you want to hug and kiss him even more. He took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his face. After rubbing circles, Chan kissed the back of your hand. It was your turn to cup his cheek, and you poked the center of his chest.

You flicked his nose with your finger, laughing when he fell for your prank.

“I think it’s time for me to go home,” you suggested.

Chan sighed but didn’t object since it was getting late. He would love for you to stay and cuddle till you both fell asleep, but it was his little sister’s birthday tomorrow. He had already planned to go home tonight and surprise Hannah in the morning.

When Chan pulled up in front of your place, he neatly parallel parked and exited the car at the same time as you. Even if it meant walking five flight of stairs because the elevator was out of service for maintenance, he still wanted to walk you all the way to your door.

When you arrived at your door, Chan promised to bring cake after Hannah’s birthday party finished. You didn’t believe him, so he cutely reached for your fingers, giving you a pinky promise. You grew soft at his gesture and said goodnight to him.

But not without giving a quick peck on his cheek.

“Y/N,” he called out, giving you a lingering kiss on the lips before letting you go. “Goodnight.”

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drblood-bringer-of-death · 5 years ago

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Hey back at it again for day two of @nutsandvoltsweek! I really got super inspired by reading other people's posts so i made another story! This is for the Role reversal prompt so i hope y'all enjoy!

I decided to keep Tyrian a faunus, it just feels more natural and my headcanon for Watts being a faunus is a spider.

(Apologies in advance if they seem a little too out of character)

An odd obsession

Faunus were particularly interesting beings. More beastly than humans yet more intelligent than any other animal. And they were absolutely fascinating to Doctor Tyrian Callows. Now this doctor was not what you would call a good man, he was far from it actually, and he was positively insane. Tyrian himself was a faunus, a rare breed of scorpion, and he loved being himself. If he could poke and prod at every organ in his body he would, just so he can figure out how it works. Tyrian was a psychoanalyst, he took in information and translated it into mannerisms, ideas, documents, and any other way he could to understand it. He was brilliant and dangerous. Perhaps that's why he was kicked out of Atlas, perhaps his intelligence scared his colleagues and that's why his inventions were deemed unnecessary. But that was a world away from him now. Instead he preferred to spend his time studying his favorite creatures. And with his newest employer he was finally, truely, able to. Salem would allow him to experiment on any faunus he so desired. And currently he was waiting for his newest test subject. A lowly bat who had flown too close to important information. Salem wanted him disposed of, and Tyrian wanted to experiment on him. So she sent out her hunter, a brave, cunning man named Arthur Watts. He was as dangerous as Tyrian, just in a different way. Watts was observant, stealthy, and agile. That's what made him such a profound hunter, he could seem like a perfectly sane person and then abruptly snap and stab you in the back. Watts had been sent to hunt down the bat faunus and was due to return within the hour. Tyrian was practically vibrating in anticipation, Watts was his favorite associate under Salem. He was so mysterious and intriguing and absolutely stole the air from his lungs. Yes indeed, the scorpion had fallen head over heels for Watts. It really didn't help his obsession with Watts also being a faunus. He was even rarer than himself, most venomous faunai were. Nonetheless Tyrians obsession with his species, and watts for that matter, consumed most of his time. He sat quietly in his own laboratory, decorated in messy papers, skeletons, charts, books, and whatever else he had dragged in there since Salem made him clean it last. Watching the time tick by as he waited. Just before he grew too impatient the door to his lab slammed open, and in walked the alluring Watts. Behind him was the wrapped up, unconscious body of his prey. Tyrian cackled as he watched watts lift the body onto an examination table.

"My my! What an excellent job, Wattsy!" He clapped his hands in joy.

"Our goddess would have nothing less of me." He retorted plainly. Ah there it was, the praise for someone other than Tyrian. His smile faltered, but he composed himself again. He hated that Salem had won Watts' heart without even trying. All she did was break him out of a prison transfer truck! Tyrian had been tirelessly working for ages to even have Watts acknowledge his feelings. He made them so blunt and obvious but all the man ever cared about was Salem.

"Mm yes she wouldn't." He tried his best not to hiss out the response.

"Your tense." Watts observed.

"What could have given that away?" Sarcasm was his go to defense.

"You're still not angry at me for rejecting your advances, are you? We are not compatible as partners. Besides, your a littleold for me." Tyrian sighed.

"Only by a few years dear Arthur. And we are compatible, I've compared our personalities and lifestyles. We would make a rather good match." He smirked. If there was one thing that Watts could never argue against, it was logic. Cold hard facts and logic.

"You did what?" Apparently he had caught Watts off guard.

"Just simply compared ourselves. I have quite a bit of freetime in the evenings, although I would be ever so glad if you decided to fill that time." Watts turned away from him.

"I'm afraid I have actual work to do, besides tinkering with pointless machines." He spat. Tyrian recoiled slightly.

"Now don't be that way watts! I make good company!"

"If i spent time in your company i would more than likely end up on that dissection table. Speaking of which, he's going to wake up soon." And with that reminder Watts walked out of the lab, leaving Tyrian disheartened and alone, well mostly alone.

"I guess I have you to fill my time with then." He sighed and turned back to his patient. He was still quite excited to work with the Faunus so he set to do whatever he so pleased with the man.

It was hours after he had finished and thoroughly disposed of the bat Faunus when Watts made his appearance again. Or more so, Hazel did by bursting through his door muttering apologies. When Tyrian tried to ask why Hazel was apologizing, he realized that something was wrong. Hazel stretched out his hand, revealing a crumpled part of the arm Tyrian had replaced long ago. Before the doctor could even speak Watts came in himself, the rest of his right arm still attracted to him.

"It was an accident." He offered.

"Accident? How did you even manage to tear it in half!? It's Made of pure dust infused steel! What the hell happened?" Tyrian demanded, saddened that his precious creation had been so carelessly destroyed.

"I got carried away when we were training and didn't realize i broke his arm-"

"And i couldn't feel it because it's a prosthetic-"

"And then I tore it off." Hazel finished, looking down.

"You need to stop being so careless Hazel! Take some of Cinders advice and learn to control your anger. At least she has the decency to only lash out when she needs to." Tyrian grumbled. "Now I have to rebuild the entire thing! What a mess…" he sighed and pointed to the newly cleaned table. "Sit now. And Hazel go report to Salem. She'll need ro know of this setback." Hazel nodded and sulked out of the room.

"It really wasn't intentional." Watts spoke once Tyrian had turned to him again.

"I know but that was my favorite prosthetic! Even Emeralds legs don't compare. Alas there is some good news to this." His smirk returned.

"And what would that be?" Watts asked accusingly.

"Why that you need to spend more time with me of course! Ill need to make some new measurements and maybe add on a few new upgrades if you'll let me." He paced around the room excitedly.

"Well that depends on what you have in mind."

"How about, instead of just shooting your typical webs, i use electric dust and enhance them? So then you fire electrified webbing!" Watts looked at the scorpion, raising a brow.

"How… How long have you been planning that?" He asked skeptically.

"Since I made the prosthetic the first time! Oh now I'm all run up with ideas!" He cackled insanely.

"Why were you thinking about it for so long?" He continued to pester the doctor with questions.

"Why because i think of you so often! How to better help you in the field, if your adjusting enough to new equipment, how to truely win your heart, i mean truly Arthur if you only knew the things you do to me!" Watts was taken aback and his face protrayed his surprise.

"You think about how to court me? Like romantically?" Tyrian nodded.

"Well duh, why else would i have been hitting on you for so long?" he shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

"It wasn't to just have sex with me?" Now it was Tyrians turn to be shocked.

"Oh heavens no! I'm a romantic! I would rather poison myself then leave someone out in the air like that!"

"That's not what Hazel said…"

"Hazel told you I would do that? Really? How childish can that man really be? Arthur i would never do that to you, or anyone of interest for that matter. It's Common courtesy." There was a long pause.

"Then lets go on a date." Watts smiled at last, it was the first genuine smile Tyrian had ever seen of the murderers face.

"Wh- what?" He stuttered out flabbergasted.

"Well up until now I thought you just wanted to use me. That's why I never accepted your advances. When I first got here I had asked Hazel advice on how to ask you out, and well that clearly wasn't the way to go…" watts trailed off embarrassingly, he hated to admit his own faults in judgment, especially since he knew Hazel was a jealous and emotional individual.

"Well then I would be honored! When would you like to go?" Tyrians tail swished in excitement and he practically was jumping in happiness.

"How about after I get a new arm?" Watts said, pointing at the missing limb.

"Oh yes apologies! Lets get it done quickly then! I plan to hold you to that date."

Again, sorry for any mistakes, this was a little rushed lol.

#nuts and volts #nuts and volts week #rwby watts #rwby tyrian #rwby hazel #rwby #rwby fanfiction #arthur watts #tyrian callows

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heartschoicegames · 5 years ago

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Heart’s Choice Author Interview: RoAnna Sylver, “Dawnfall”

Find true love and family with a pirate crew at the ends of the universe, where aliens, ghosts, and portals open the space between worlds...and your heart. You are a Navigator, one who creates and guards portals from one dimension to another, wary of the liminal sea between them.

Your universe is made of two worlds: one contains the magic-infused world of Zephyria, and the other, the dystopian space station Eclipse. The worlds are balanced, until one day, an explosive disaster, a deadly energy storm, and an infamous pirate—the Ghost Queen—upend your life and plunge you into a race to save both worlds.

Dawnfall is a 232,000 word interactive romance novel by RoAnna Sylver, one of the first set of games releasing with the launch of Heart’s Choice. I sat down with the author, RoAnna Sylver, to talk about writing interactive romance. Heart’s Choice games release December 2nd.

Dawnfall has frankly an insanely wonderful setting for a romance game. Tell me about the aliens, the pirates, the ghosts, and the alien-pirate-ghosts.

Hi there! I’m so glad you think this sounds fun! Yeah, Dawnfall is weird as heck, and that’s one of the things I love about this story. It’s weird in a way I don’t think we’ve seen much of before. I really just tried to put in everything I find fun or interesting, and that I’ve always wanted to write. Dawnfall started out as a total brain-candy project, and runs on pure Rule of Cool. Pirates? Yes. Magic? Yes. A slice of cyberpunk? Hell yes. Eerie ghosts and faerie-tale influences and memory-sharing potions? Giant bird people? The power of rock n’roll? Yes, yes, yes.

And also everybody’s dateable, and in a couple cases, dating each other. We weave a tangled web, but I think it’s a pretty badass and spectacular web.

You seem to really neatly straddle the genre fence here with a romance and sci-fi/fantasy. What was challenging about cramming all of that into one game?

Thank you so much for saying that. I’ve always adored SFF, and there’s so much in this genre-collection, so many extremes and concepts and contrasting colors, that I couldn’t limit myself to picking just one to play with. This weird game-book is kind of a love letter to fantasy and science fiction and haunted house stories and cyberpunk adventures—I thought a lot about the Disney movie Treasure Planet for its genre-blending beauty, and the Bioware game Mass Effect for its array of fascinating, multidimensional alien cuties to interact with and date… and then turned it up to eleven.

I guess you’d expect the challenge to be in making it all fit together/be “believable,” but I kind of threw that out the window. I don’t expect anyone to find it ‘realistic’ (setting-wise anyway; I tried to make every character ring true of course), and I don’t really care if someone thinks it’s silly, or doesn’t take it seriously. It is silly in a lot of ways. DAWNFALL is a giant ridiculous queer space magic pirate adventure, and the only goal is fun. If you have fun, I’ve done my job, and there should be something fun in here for everyone.

Did you have a favorite NPC you enjoyed writing most?

Honestly I love them all so much in different ways, and I know them so well by now it’s really second nature. Their voices come so easily and they’re all so much fun. The Queen’s swagger is awesome though, and her mental voice/mannerisms probably come through especially clearly. I love Zenith’s vulnerable moments when xie lets xir guard down and lets go of the need to entertain or please. I love Averis’s journey and growth from cute wibbly nerd to a confident swashbuckler (who is also still a cute wibbly nerd). I love how deeply Oz feels, how strongly he loves and remembers and honors memory, and how unafraid he is to show softness and warmth. And I love a certain spoilery ghost-babe and how they’re so full of joy at the beauty of life.

I do want to give special mention to Aeon, though. This is a story about connection, and I wanted to show that sibling bonds are every bit as important and strong as romantic or any other. I also wanted to show a complex, multidimensional antagonist figure who holds heartbreaking secrets along with authority, and is genuinely trying to do what she thinks is the best thing, and wants what’s best for you, the PC, even if you might not always agree. Her balance between being so emotionally guarded and determined and unyielding, while hopefully being extremely easy to read and tell what she wants and fears and loves—spoiler: you; she loves you!—was a challenge I hope I pull off.

…Also I enjoy any time Vyranix gets his pompous feathered ass handed to him. I think we all know a Vyranix, or at least of one, and it’s always fun to take them down, even in fantasy.

Who would you be romancing as a player?

I’m gonna say “everyone,” and here it won’t actually be cheating, because you can romance everyone! At once! In varying degrees/relationship dynamics and attractions. You don’t see a lot of polyamory-friendly games or books or anything really, and this is an incredibly important thing for me. The second I got the idea for Dawnfall I knew it had to let players romance anyone they wanted and show polyamory in a realistic, healthy light. I’m also a-spec (asexual and aromantic), and having not just good representation but being actively included and welcomed and celebrated in fiction is so huge too.

Dawnfall is a romance of course, being part of Heart’s Choice, but one of the single most vital elements for me is making it inclusive for aromantic and asexual players and player-characters. Essentially, I wanted to write a romance that didn’t penalize players for not experiencing the attractions the way we’re otherwise expected or required—and I’m so grateful that my amazing editors and community not only accepted but supported everything I was trying to do here. (It’s so refreshing not to have to fight for inclusion and freedom. It shouldn’t be, but it is.)

And that’s where the concept of “Heart-Stars” and “Same-Feathers” came from. I’ve never seen anything honor queerplatonic relationships like I’m trying to do here, and I want everyone, of every sexuality and attraction, to feel like they have a place here and can experience this adventure without limits. And I wanted to show that it’s a very normal thing, hence this being the same for the human characters as well as alien. (One of the nonbinary characters being human is also no mistake. I love me some wild alien genders, but there are tons of awesome nonbinary humans too!)

…That being said, I think I gave Averis most of my anxiety-issues, and would really just like to curl up with Oz and watch The Great British Bake-Off. That sounds like a perfect night in my books.

What were some of the things you found surprising about the game-writing process?

Coding was definitely the biggest learning curve. I’d never coded anything before in my life, and it’s such a new skillset to learn, entirely different from any kind of writing I’ve ever done. Sometimes it felt rewriting my brain, which did not at all do this intuitively—and also sometimes like I bit off much more than I could chew (first game ever being not only a huge piece of interactive fiction, but a polyamorous romance with aro and ace possibilities, and so many more variables than expected!), but it’s been worth it. Entirely. If my writing makes anyone feel seen and accepted and invited to have fun as they are, it’s worth every bit of struggle.

Also, oddly, interactive fiction is in some ways easier for me than writing a plain old book! Probably because I love AUs so much, and every choice in a game is like writing a tiny AU of the story, so I get to do the same scenes several different ways. My ADHD-brain finds something about this extremely satisfying, most likely because it somehow feels more like multitasking! Several stories in one, and if I like two ideas, I don’t have to pick just one to write!

Honestly though, I think the most surprising part is just being done, and…that I could do this at all. It was so huge, and took so long, and I learned so much, and every day I’m just kind of going “who the hell am I?” about doing all of this. I’m proud of it. I did a cool thing. And trying to get better at saying that.

And, what are you working on now?

I always have about 8 active projects going at once (which shouldn’t come as a surprise after last question!), but my next interactive fiction game is with Tales/Fable Labs! It’s shaping up to be a Dawnfall-sized project, but a little faster-moving and action-y.

It’s called Every Beat Belongs To You, and it’s a romantic thriller that feels like Twin Peaks meets Mr. Robot, with a smattering of Repo: The Genetic Opera. A creepy Pacific Northwest town with a secret (and a rash of ritualized murders), a super-slick medical research company whose flagship product is a 100% perfect synthetic heart, a mysterious new-age group, and a sister who went missing just before discovering how it’s all connected. Also five simultaneously-dateable (including ace and aro ships!) cuties of varying genders! Who will you trust with your heart?

I’m very excited about Everybeat, which should be just as queer, polyam, exciting, and weird as all my stuff! Aside from that, I’m working on Stake Sauce Book 2, its companion f/f vampire series Death Masquerade, and Chameleon Moon Book 3. I’m not always working…sometimes there are videogames, and sleep. But I really hope to have a lot more fun things to share soon!

Oh, and depending on how this weird, fun thing goes, I do have some ideas for prequel Dawnfall stories; maybe games, maybe books, but the ideas are there. The world—worlds, really—is so huge, and I’m not done playing in it yet! I also have some character art drawn, and I want to do a lot more of them. It’s another way to show love.

So thank you so much! I really hope Dawnfall is as fun to everyone to read/play as it was for me to write. I can’t wait to share it with you!

#hearts choice #interactive fiction

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years ago

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Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 206: The Brightest Star in the Sky

The young man sighed, as he trekked after his determined cousin. They were about the same age, but decidedly had very different interests. As always though, he tagged along to make sure she didn't get into too much trouble at these conventions.

His cousin Nora loved anything considered weird, paranormal, or of a conspiracy nature. So seven years ago, when that crazy storm had happened in Seattle, his cousin had been enthralled from that moment and ever since she had been exploring every single aspect of that day.

She did have a point. Even he, like most, suspected that the official story the Feds fed the public about that day was garbage. But he, like most, didn't really know what to do about it so they moved on with their lives. But not Nora and she had gotten into some trouble early on in her days of spelunking in the woods of Maine and into fights at the conventions. So here he was again, tagging along to another conspiracy convention in Misty Falls, Maine and bored out of his mind.

"If you don't want to be here, JJ...then you can leave. I'll be fine," Nora told him. He rolled his eyes.

"It's just...some of these guys are in this for the cash grab now. I mean...what new or real information have they come up with in the last seven years?" JJ questioned. She sighed.

"You don't get it...there are no definitive answers, because the government is hiding the whole thing. But you've heard the stories. Weird things happen in these woods," Nora said.

"Maybe that's because this convention brings the weirdos out of the woodwork," he quipped.

"So...are you still on the fairy tale kick or do you think it's aliens?" he asked.

"If you're going to make fun of me, you can take a hike," she answered. He sighed.

"I'm sorry...but you have to admit, most of the theories are pretty insane," he mentioned.

"You saw the videos...how do you explain all that?" she asked.

"I don't know...but fairy tales? Really?" he questioned.

"Whatever...you just wait until I prove you wrong," she insisted, as they arrived at the convention tables, where they were conducting a live podcast.

"And if you're just joining us, I have made contact with a source that has a possible lead on the man known as David Nolan. Now, if you remember, David Nolan is the detective from Seattle that curiously had his wife and son stolen from him by a man, who was known on the dark web as the Collector. His wife had amnesia and was diagnosed by a shady doctor with dissociative identity disorder. The woman had an alter and yes, you're remembering correctly. Her alter was none other than Snow White," the podcaster said.

"This couple was splashed all over the tabloids for weeks and their romance became an obsession; an obsession that the Internet still hasn't let go of. Especially when this same couple showed up on that fateful day in Seattle and things happened around them that can only be described as magic, no matter what the official government story tries to tell us," he continued.

"But then they disappeared, without a trace, like they never existed. But if the rumors on the dark web are anything to go by...then they are somewhere hidden in these very back woods of Maine, possibly in a hidden realm or maybe even beneath the surface of the earth if you believe the hallow earth theorists," he added.

"But no matter how much they try to dissuade us from seeking the truth, we will not stop until we expose what really happened that day and just who these mysterious people really are. Join us again tomorrow, as we make our annual hike into the woods of Maine in search for answers," he said, concluding his podcast. JJ rolled his eyes, as Nora got in line to get an autograph from the man who had made a living with podcasts and books on this subject.

"I'm gonna go check us in at the Inn and if it's booked again like last year, we're leaving, cause I'm not sleeping in a tent again," he complained, as he started off that way when screams from the diner nearby attracted all the attention. And if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would have never believed it.

The diner exploded in flames, with any of the poor people inside, obviously perishing instantly. He stood, fear stricken, as two flaming figures strode toward them.

"You…" one said, as the flames faded mostly.

"You will drive us to a place called Boston," Arthur demanded.

"Uh...here, take the car," JJ said, but Gawain growled and grabbed Nora by the arm.

"The King has requested that you drive us and you will do so unless you'd like me to melt the skin off her body," Gawain threatened. JJ nodded, as he led them back to his car. Suddenly, all the conspiracy had just gotten very real…

~*~

David stood behind his boss with a few other agents, as she made a statement to the press and delivered the profile, stating that they believed their perpetrator to be a highly educated professor with access to multiple Universities campuses.

"Major Donovan...are you really accusing someone in the educational community of perpetuating these crimes?" one reporter questioned.

"As uncomfortable as it is...I'm afraid so. The chemical compound alone suggests that this person is at least a scientist and someone highly intelligent. But the location of the crimes is very suspicious as well. Only an educator would have the kind of access that to the multiple institutions that these crimes occurred," Patricia answered.

"They're cannot be that many that fit your profile. Does that mean you've narrowed the suspect pool?" another asked.

"Yes...we are getting close and we are doing everything in our power to make sure the last victim is this person's final victim," the Major answered, as she stepped away, effectively ending the impromptu press conference. But one person, without a press pass, slipped through and ran up behind them.

"Agent Nolan is it?" he asked. David sighed and turned to him. He hated reporters.

"Make it quick...I really do want to catch this guy," he said impatiently.

"No one else has seemed to put it together, but rumors in the alternative community have suggested that you are the same person as the Detective Nolan from strange events that occurred seven years ago in Seattle," the man interjected.

"I'm sorry...what media outlet are you with?" Patricia asked.

"I'm an independent researcher for the people, Major," he answered.

"Ah...so one of those nuts on the Internet. Got it...if you'll excuse us, we have work to do," she said, dismissing him.

"I've done some digging. Your wife, Margaret Nolan, she's a teacher, right?" he called and David stopped in his tracks.

"Look...I don't know who you are, but I've never lived in Seattle and I'll let you go right now if you go without another word. But you mention my wife again or even think about going near her...then we'll arrest you for harassment," David warned. The man smirked.

"Fine...but pictures don't lie, detective. Oh, I'm sorry...it's agent now," he said, as he tossed the newspaper to him and walked away. David sighed and followed his boss back into their workplace. He was about to look at the paper out of curiosity, but tossed it on his desk when Agent Harding called them into the conference room.

"Hey...I think I might have narrowed it down now," she said, as they both went into the conference room.

"Really?" David asked.

"Well...we caught a break. Our perp has been careful up until now, but after the last student death at Boston University, they put even more cameras," Danielle replied.

"Wait...are you saying you got something on camera?" David asked.

"Well, nothing incriminating, but I went through and cross referenced everyone that was signed into the lab at Boston University on both nights of each murder that occurred there," she replied.

"Nice work...how many are we down to?" Patricia asked.

"Eight...so still not great, but way better than the thirty-two suspects we had it down to this morning," she replied.

"Okay...well eight is workable. Let's see them one by one," Patricia said, as she nodded to Trevor and he put the slide show up on the screen. And David's heart nearly stopped, as he recognized the photo of the sixth man on the screen. As the slide flipped to the seventh one, he called out.

"Hold it...go back!" he said, as he stared a the image of Dr. Ian Jenkins.

"David? Do you know him?" Patricia asked, as his mind was racing a mile a minute and he remembered what, at the time, had been a fairly innocuous conversation with his wife.

~*~

They had taken the kids out for pizza after the game so Bobby could eat with his teammates. They were so glad he finally seemed to be fitting in. Middle school had been an awkward time for him and he had always said he felt different than other kids and had trouble relating to them, but he was never really sure why. Snow and David were fond of telling him that it was because he was special, but they weren't sure that helped much. At his age, being special was definitely not easy. It wasn't easy to be normal at his age, so being extraordinary or special came with its own struggles. But his teammates really seemed to take to him. They both just hoped there was more to it than the fact that Bobby was winning games for them.

After pizza, they had stopped for ice cream and she was currently sharing a pint with her husband on the couch. In his lap no less, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for them.

"You're a little quiet...lost in the chocolate goodness?" he teased, as she looked him.

"No...it's kind of silly I think," she replied.

"Your feelings are never silly to me," he reminded, as she put her spoon in the ice cream and set it aside on the table.

"Well...my new boss, Dr. Jenkins...he's nice and all and I kind of feel bad for him. He's socially awkward...but I kind of got a weird vibe from him today," she said.

"Did he come onto you?" he asked.

"No...why would you think that?" she asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Because you're beautiful and I saw the way he was looking at you. I may have acted like I was absorbed in the game, but trust me, I always notice everything when it comes to you, especially when other men look at you," he replied. She caressed his face.

"You're the only man I want," she reminded him.

"I know...that's why I don't gouge their eyes out when I see one looking at you. That's serious self control...you should be proud," he joked, as she nudged him playfully.

"But seriously...was he making you uncomfortable?" he asked.

"No...not really. He just was weirdly insistent that I should enroll in his night classes and get my doctorate," she replied.

"Do you want to get your doctorate?" he asked.

"No...I'm happy where I am. Besides, spending my evenings away from you and the kids would only make me miserable," she replied.

"Then he should accept that and if he gets out of hand, I want you to let me know right away," he stressed. She shrugged.

"I don't think it's like that. I think he's just lonely and is trying to be a friend," she said.

"Maybe...but remember, I'm a cop. I see this kind of thing go bad way too often and it scares the hell out of me that you could be on the receiving end of someone that doesn't like to hear the word no," he lamented. But she stroked his face.

"I'll be fine. Like I said, he's just awkward and hasn't crossed any lines. I'll be friendly, but keep a professional distance," she promised, as she kissed him.

"Good...because I don't think I have to tell you what it would do to me if something happened to you," he said, as she caressed his face again.

"I know...it's the same for me when it comes to you. I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he replied, as their lips met again.

~*~

"David?" Patricia questioned, as she noticed his fear stricken face.

"I know him…" he uttered.

"How?" Danielle asked.

"He works at the same school Margaret and Bobby are at. He's the head of the science department," David answered, as Trevor pulled up his information.

"Dr. Ian Jenkins, five PHD's and moved to the United States from Great Britain a few years ago," Danielle said, as dread knotted in David's stomach and he ran out of the room and to the stairwell.

"Pull up everything you can get on him, from his time here and his home country. I have a feeling this is our guy," she said, as she followed him.

~*~

Mount Olympus practically shook apart to rubble, as Seth unleashed his rage at what was going on in the United Realms at the moment. There was a heavy ice storm plaguing several Kingdoms and a lightning storm over Storybrooke. If that wasn't enough, there were also several cyclones raging in the waterways, creating violent hurricane-like winds. He had told Mephisto not to bother returning unless it was with the Charmings in chains.

"I'm going to torture you all...and burn everything and everyone you love!" Seth raged, as his eyes bled yellow with evil and he glared down at the United Realms. In his mighty rage, he blasted Snow and David's castle in Misthaven and then Winter and Charming's near the toll bridge, torching them both. He knew they were likely empty by now, as these storms were clearly a distraction. He glared at the reserve and then the mysterious area near Bald Mountain. Even in all his immense power, he was unable to get through the shields protecting these areas and it made him livid in a way he had never been.

"I must find a way through…" he growled, as he disappeared and reappeared in Nephilim. He needed to consult Madam Mim's oldest spell books. There had to be something in one of them to combat the power of these truest loves. He had little faith in Mephisto's new charges and thus, he knew it was very likely that Winter and Charming's good halves would soon return. Which meant he needed a way to obliterate them and their entire bloodline…

~*~

Thanks to their abundance of beans, multiple portals opened with people pouring through them. Due to the nature of the barrier, created by the combined light and dark powers of Winter, Charming, and Rumpelstiltskin, it made the barrier around the Bald Mountain area nearly impenetrable, even by the mighty Seth. Another perk of the magic woven into the barrier was that anyone that walked into the refuge of the mountain through a portal had their real memories returned. Emotions were running high, especially, as many people were reunited with loved ones thought to be dead, including Abigail with her father.

"That should be mostly everyone that we could get," Leo said, as he arrived with Frankie and Joe, having retrieved them and most of the people of Storybrooke.

"Yes and it shouldn't be too crowded, thanks to the magical extensions," Regina agreed, as they arrived back from the Maritime Kingdom.

"Where is Eva...this is taking too long…" Charming said, as he paced a hole in the floor. Thankfully, a portal opened, as she and Paul arrived back from the Land Without Color and its people.

"I'm here Daddy…" she called, as he hugged her tightly and cradled her head.

"I'm okay, Daddy," she assured and then pulled back.

"I hope everyone is mostly here though. He destroyed your castle in Misthaven and the one by the Toll Bridge," she reported.

"We're safe...that's what matters most, sweetie," Winter said. He nodded.

"She's right, angel...we can rebuild when all this is over," Charming assured.

"So what now? As usual, you've built a resistance and led us all here. But Seth is worse than I ever was...so you two better have a plan," the Evil Queen asked said, as she stood beside her other half.

"Emma will bring our other halves back, along with Summer and Bobby. Until then...we ready ourselves for the battle to come," Winter declared.

"She's right...because this one is going to make the Final Battle look like a casual afternoon sparring match," Charming said.

"We've lost Fandral too...that was not a blow we needed," Elsa mentioned.

"We must hope that his friends got our message and were able to rescue them," Hermes implored and they could only hope she was right.

"Let's hope the barrier holds long enough, because Seth will do everything he can to get through that barrier," Winter whispered to her husband and he pulled her into his arms.

"It will...and Emma will be back soon," he promised.

~*~

"...and that was how we ended up in the All World River," Fandral said, as he got choked up again.

"And I almost lost the best thing that ever happened to me," he said, as he clutched her hand and Rose rested her head on his shoulder. She was cuddled against him in a large chair, as they had opted to share and no one bothered to tell them they could have their own. At the moment, he could bare to let her out of his sight or even let go of her. He was too afraid that she would disappear.

"By Odin's beard...there is really a serum that can separate a person from their good half and their bad half?" Lady Sif asked. They nodded.

"There is...it was originally created by Dr. Jekyll to separate himself from Hyde," Fandral asked.

"They are the ones in the story when you were cursed to be bear? This Jekyll is the one that tried to keep you apart, yes?" Thor asked. Rose nodded.

"He did...he separated from Hyde, but it turned out that he was the real monster all along and Hyde, though he has done some terrible things, he retained a goodness in him. He helped reunite us...despite his feelings for me," she explained.

"And your friends? Their dark halves...they don't seem all that dark," Valkyrie observed.

"They're not...they have done dark things in the name of revenge, but ultimately, like Snow and David, they still love each other and their family. They're just a little more willing to go to dark places to protect them, whereas Snow and David do so from a place of light," Fandral tried to explain.

"And your friends good halves are cursed again?" Sif asked, trying to understand.

"Yes...to protect their youngest. Seth fears his powers, which I have feeling he hasn't even begun to come into. But their eldest has gone after them in hopes of waking them up and bringing them home. The final battle with Seth draws near," Fandral answered.

"And I thought our lives were insane," Valkyrie quipped. Fandral sighed.

"We must get back to the children…" Fandral said.

"They are safe...I know our friends would make sure of that," Rose assured him. He nodded.

"If you are sure of that, perhaps it is wise to remain here until the right time to make your entrance," Thor suggested.

"That is a good idea. We just have no idea how to know when the right time will be," Fandral said. Thor exchanged a glance with Valkyrie and she rolled her eyes.

"If anyone has any kind of tech that can see across realms, it's probably one of them. It's one hell of a long shot though," she mentioned.

"We should try...I'll make the call," he said, as he stood up.

"So...he doesn't look so good. I feel badly for asking for his help," Fandral said, but Sif shook her head.

"No...this is exactly what he needs. It's been two years here too since the snap and he's been drowning himself in his own sorrows," Sif replied.

"She's right...you seem to be someone that's able to do what none of us can and that's pull him out of his misery. He feels he has no purpose now so do not feel bad about giving him one," Valkyrie admonished. Fandral nodded and Rose kissed his cheek.

"So...who is he calling?" Fandral asked curiously.

"Someone with a really big brain," Valkyrie answered.

~*~

Margaret arrived back in her classroom and started gathering her things to go home for the day. As she put things away in her bag, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and jumped when she saw Dr. Jenkins standing in the doorway.

"Oh...Dr. Jenkins, you startled me," she said, with a quiver in her voice. The way he was looking at her made her very uncomfortable and warning bells started going off in her head.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry...I don't mean to. I just wanted to thank you again for all your help. Today was quite successful, thanks to you. We made quite a team," he mentioned. She swallowed thickly and grabbed her bag in order to make a quick escape. Unfortunately, the contents of the bag went spilling to the floor instead.

"Oh dear...let me help you," he said, as he started picking her things up.

"That's okay…" she said, as she quickly stuffed things into her bag and stood up.

"I...I need to go. Bobby's waiting for me," she said, as she walked past him and fear seized her when he grabbed her arm.

"Margaret please...I think it is important that we talk," he said.

"Doctor…" she started to say.

"Margaret...please hear me out," he pleaded. He wasn't giving her much choice though, as he did not let go of her arm.

"I've never met anyone like you. Brilliant and beautiful, with a kind soul. I don't connect with many people, but I felt an instant connection with you. Can you not see that we belong together?" he asked.

"Doctor...I'm married. Happily married and very much in love with my husband. Please...let go," she pleaded, as she was now on the verge of tears. But that only made him squeeze her arm harder.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that...and you'll soon see that you belong with me," Jenkins he said in a matter of fact tone. She tore away from him, but he grabbed her and pulled her back.

"Help me!" she cried out, as he put a hand over her mouth. She bit his hand and he cried out. He backhanded her across the face and she went spilling to the floor.

"This is not how I wanted to do this, Margaret...but you leave me no choice," he said, as he pinned her on her back. She cried and screamed, but the school was mostly empty by now and those that were still around were in the gym.

"Shh...stop your struggle," he chided, as he put the scarf she was wearing around her neck between her teeth, as tears streamed down her face. She couldn't believe his strength. He didn't look all that strong, but his grip was like a vice and her struggling didn't faze him at all. She winced away in disgust, as he caressed her face.

"The moment I met you...I knew I had to have you," he leered and she tried kneeing him, but he held her knees down.

"You are so fiery...it's exhilarating, but this will help calm you," he said, as he pulled a syringe out of his jacket pocket.

"A simple muscle relaxer. You'll remain awake...but unable to fight me," he said. Her eyes widened and she continued to struggle. Just as she thought the worst was about to happen, she saw the doctor be literally peeled off her and thrown...across the room. Her son stood there, looking at his arm in surprise, wondering how he had even done such a thing, but decided that was a question for later, as he helped his mother up and into a chair.

"Mom…" he said, as he helped her pull the scarf away from her mouth and her arms flew around him.

"It's okay Mom…" he soothed, as he looked back at the doctor and put his hand up.

"You stay away...you stay the hell away from my mom!" Bobby hissed, as Jenkins started toward them.

"You won't stand in my way once I make a guinea pig out of you for my new drug. You're strong...maybe you'll be the first one to survive it. Either way, you won't be able to stop me from taking what I want," he said.

"Drug?" Margaret asked, as she saw the syringe with a red liquid in it.

"You're...you're the one my husband is looking for. You...you killed all those students and homeless people," she realized. He smirked at her with admiration.

"As usual...you are stunningly brilliant, Margaret. Such is wasted on your muscle brained husband. He's supposed to be an FBI agent and you figured it out before he did," he said smugly.

"Don't be so sure...I know my dad and he's probably already onto you," Bobby warned, as he guarded his mother.

"You don't want to tangle with me, brat. I don't mean to harm your lovely mother...I just need to show her why she belongs with me," he said.

"You're really are psycho if you think I'll let you touch her or that she belongs with you, because trust me, she belongs with my dad," Bobby growled.

"We shall see…" Jenkins said, as he kept walking toward them, causing Bobby to charge the man and they went tumbling to the floor.

"BOBBY!" Margaret cried, as she looked for something to use as a weapon.

Jenkins managed to get his hands around the boy's throat and started choking him, until he felt the incredible pain of being beamed with a chair across his back and rolled off, howling in pain. Margaret quickly helped her son up and looked him over.

"How dare you try to hurt my son!" she growled, all traces of her usual kindness gone.

"You are making this very difficult on yourself, Margaret. I do not want to hurt your boy...but I will if you do not come with me right now," Jenkins said.

"Go to hell," Bobby growled.

"I'm already there, young one...I'm already there without her to complete me," he claimed.

"You are sick…" Margaret spat, as he got up and she had no idea how. She had hit him with a metal chair, after all. He started toward them and Bobby punched him, before taking his mother's hand and leading her to the door. They were startled when they opened it and found a blonde woman there with a few other people. The woman smiled at them, like she was relieved, and put her hands up.

"It's okay...I'm a cop," she assured and they sighed in relief. But Margaret cried out, as Jekyll grabbed her and put his arm around her neck in a headlock, before dragging her back.

"Don't move...or I strangle her," he warned, as she gasped for air.

"Stop it!" Bobby cried.

"If I cannot have you, sweet Margaret...then no one will…" he hissed in her ear, before sniffing her hair.

"Let us leave...and she'll keep breathing," he said.

"You have four guns aimed at you four-eyed psycho so you're not going anywhere with her," Emma growled. But he smirked and pulled her tightly against him.

"But none of you will risk firing on me as long as I have her...she too precious…" he hissed, as he looked at her with a lustful stare. Suddenly, one of the windows in the classroom shattered in surprise and Jenkind looked that way, only in time to see a fist connect with his face, busting his glasses. He stumbled to the floor and Margaret sighed in relief, as her husband caught her before she went crashing to the floor with him.

"Oh David…" she cried, as her arms flew around his neck.

"It's okay now, my darling…" he promised, as he held her tightly. Emma smiled at them. Thankfully, some things never changed and that one thing was the love between her parents. It still shined as passionately and brightly like the brightest star in the sky.

"Hands up where we can see them," Nick warned, as he leveled his gun at the doctor. Jenkins smirked and jabbed the needle into Bobby's leg.

"Oww…" he cried out, as time seemed to stop.

"What...what did you just do?" David cried. The evil doctor looked at him with a smug smile.

"You know what I have done, agent Nolan...the same that I have done to all my other test subjects. I doubt the boy has but a few moments to live," Jenkins said.

"You son of a bitch!" Emma cried, as she felt tears fill her eyes and she tackled him to the ground, before cuffing him.

"Bobby…" Margaret said, as their son began to convulse.

"Oh God...no...no...no...I can't lose our baby," she cried, as she fell apart and they held their son.

"This is agent Martinez, I need an ambulance at North Star High School immediately. We have a student that was injected unwillingly with a dangerous substance!" Angela said into her phone. Bobby convulsed, as his parents held him and cried over him. Suddenly, the ground beneath them all began to shake.

"An earthquake? In Massachusetts?" Nick asked in confusion. But Emma and Killian exchanged a glance.

"Yeah...not an earthquake," she told them and their eyes widened.

"Are you saying the kid is doing this?" Nick hissed.

"That drug...it might have just awakened his powers," Emma said.

"But there is no magic," Killian reminded her.

"Yes there is...my parents have half the chalice hidden in their rings," she reminded him.

"Then...he might survive this," Killian said hopefully.

"It's possible…" she said, as the rest of the windows shattered and wind whipped around all of them.

"If my brother doesn't kill us all with the elements first," Emma said, as the paramedics arrived and were unsure as to what they were seeing. Her brother's magic was fighting the drug and he had a better chance than anyone else of surviving. But if he destroyed everything around him in the process, it was going to be something they would have a hard time explaining…

~*~

Summer arrived home that evening and was surprised to find the house seemingly empty.

"Mom?" she called.

"Hmm...they must still be at school," she muttered, as she dropped her bag in her room and went to the kitchen for a bottle of water. It was strange that her mother hadn't texted her that they would be this late though and she opened the fridge to grab an apple. She heard the doorbell ring at that time and went to answer it, finding a package on the doorstep. It was a little strange since there didn't seem to be a delivery truck. She shrugged and took it inside, surprised that it was addressed to her and her brother.

"That's weird...we didn't order anything," she said, but shrugged again and opened the box. Inside was a large, leather bound book with the title emblazoned in gold.

"Once Upon a Time," she read.

"Fairy tales?" she wondered, as she opened the book and was suddenly seized with a river of memories running through her.

"Oh my God!" she cried out, as it all came back to her. She put the book down and dug through the box, extracting the Dark One dagger from it.

"I need to find Mom, Dad, and Bobby," she uttered, as she grabbed her bag. She stuffed the book into it, as she heard a noise.

"Hello?" she called, but received silence. A chill ran down her spine and she clutched the dagger.

"Daddy?" she called, but somehow knew he wasn't there.

"Afraid not, young one…" a voice said and she turned to find a man that she recognized as King Arthur.

"My my...you have grown up. You were so very small the last time I saw you," Arthur said.

"As fair as your mother," Gawain said.

"You stay away from me, jerk face," she growled.

"And with the same mouth too," he quipped.

"Believe it or not...I do not want to hurt you, little one. Just give me the dagger and we will be on our way," Arthur said, as she clutched it and backed away. She ran from them, as their arms became alive with fiery chains. She screamed, as Gawain sliced through the kitchen table and she ran out the backdoor, before colliding with a young man she didn't recognize.

"I'm sorry…" he said, as he helped her up.

"Who are you?" she asked, as Arthur and Gawain tore their way through the house.

"Uh...later," he said, as he led her back to his car. Just a few moments ago, he had the opportunity to run away, but something had told him not to and now he knew why.

~*~

A Few Moments Ago

"You're welcome crazies!" he called, as the two weirdos that had forced them to drive them four hours to Boston got out in front of a nice house in a very nice suburb.

"JJ...what are you waiting for? Floor it!" Nora urged. He snorted.

"So everything you've been going on about for seven years is probably true and now you want to run?" he asked.

"Away from those psychos...yeah!" she answered. But he heard a scream from inside the house and got out of the car.

"Someone is in trouble...stay here!" he told her, as he ran around the back of the house. He may have been dragged into this conspiracy stuff unwillingly, but now that the danger was real and people needed help, that's where he shined. He wanted to help real people from real danger and he wasn't about to run away from that, even if what the danger he was facing seemed wildly unreal.

JJ took the girl's hand and they ran to his car. Nora was still in the back seat and he opened the passenger door for her.

"Get in," he said, but Summer hesitated and looked back at the house.

"I need to find my parents," she replied.

"Fine, but it's not safe here and I assure you that we're better than those freaks," he said. She nodded and got in. He ran to the driver's side.

"Where to?" he asked.

"North Star High...I'll tell you how to get there, just go," she urged, as he peeled away, leaving Arthur and Gawain behind…

~*~

Training was in full swing at the refuge, as Leo sparred his Uncle James and his wife was firing icicles at Regina, who was using fire to extinguish them, just as Eva ran into the training room.

"Honey...what is it?" Winter asked.

"Something is happening in Boston...it's all over the news," she said, as Rumple magicked a television into the room and they turned to one of the national news stations.

"And if you're just joining us, Boston is experiencing a strange series of weather events. No one is sure how or why, but the source of the earthquake appears to be a local school, North Star High," the reporter droned on.

"North Star High?" Leo asked.

"We looked it up. Your Mom teaches there under the name Margaret Nolan and Bobby is a freshman there," Paul replied.

"But...that doesn't make any sense. Why would Bobby unleash his powers?" Elsa asked.

"And how even? They're in the Land Without Magic," Leo added.

"Mom and Dad have their half of chalice, even if they don't know it," she reminded him.

"Which means something must be happening and Bobby might not be able to control his powers. It's the only way he'd ever use them out there," Regina surmised.

"Exactly...but this could be the catalyst we need. Emma should be there by now and she'll bring them home," Rumple stated.

"Except that we know Seth sent Arthur and Gawain after them and if people see those two and what they can do? There is no putting this one back in the bottle," James said. Aphrodite nodded.

"Snow and David will know what to do...we have to have faith. I'm assuming that package has been delivered?" the Goddess asked the Dark One.

"Young Summer should have it by now and with any luck she's awake so it's only a matter of time until the rest are," he replied.

"Let's hope you're right, because Seth has access to every magic book in Rose Red's library and if he finds a way through our barrier prematurely...then it's over," the Evil Queen warned.

"Then I guess it's time for you to take a page from the Charming manual as I have, Your Majesty. We must have hope," he said. She looked at him in disgust.

"Hope...that damn word. It always comes down to hope and that insipid princess and her idiot husband," the Queen complained, receiving many glares, most notably from the twins.

"I'm sorry...I love you both, but your mother and father are a menace," she complained.

"No...they're heroes and they'll be back soon to help us fight. With the United Realms joining together, all our armies, all our magic...Seth will go down and we need to be ready," Regina said. Robin smiled at her and put his arms around her.

"And we will be, because we're all heroes, especially you now," he said, as she smiled back at him.

"And if we can't put this back in the bottle? Even if we do defeat Seth...what if the whole world becomes aware of our existence?" Leo asked.

"Yeah...because something tells me that Seth might decide he wants to rule more than just the United Realms," Eva added.

"I'm afraid you're right...Seth may decide he wants to conquer the world. But we'll save it and then we may have to face an entirely new world where we are no longer hidden," Aphrodite told them.

"As hard as it may be, it can be done. There was a time on the Earth in the realm where Fandral comes from that believed magic, Gods, and heroes were mere fantasy, very recently, in fact. But that is no longer the case there and may no longer be the case here much longer. But I am certain of one thing," Hermes said.

"What's that?" Leo asked. She and Aphrodite smiled.

"Your parents will lead us through it all. Your family is a beacon of hope to everyone in the United Realms and I know that the same will be true for the whole world if such comes to be," Aphrodite declared. The twins exchanged a glance and nodded. They weren't sure they liked the idea of their family being so exposed to the world, but they knew she was right. Their parents would somehow lead them through it all with their love shining like the brightest guiding star in the sky...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #the united realms #original season 8 storyline #Rose Red #Fandral the Dashing #Dashing Rose #background Rumbelle #background OQ #background CS #romance #adventure #family #finding you always #the epic continues

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treehugginglibrarian · 5 years ago

Text

Social Justice Bedroom Warriors

Social Justice Warriors need to stay out of people’s intimate lives, unless they’re personally invited in, because they’re starting to sound a bit like incels.

Recently, a member of one of my childfree on-line forums posed a question regarding dating and mental health, being unsure whether it was acceptable for her to bow out of a potential relationship because the gentleman in question suffered from depression and anxiety. While most people, including those with one or both of those health issues, were quick to reassure her that she never has to date anyone she doesn’t want to, and she owes no one an explanation, others were less supportive. One entire sub-thread of this mess ended up dedicated to the notion that, if she did not date this man, she was an “ableist cunt.” That’s not how this works. THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS. This also isn’t the first time I’ve seen this argument made.

As a population, we’ve gotten pretty good at reminding straight, white, men (and black men, on occasion) that women do not owe them anything. We don’t owe them our time, our phone number, a date, or sex. We do not owe them anything simply because they were born with a dick and took a fancy to us. It’s becoming increasingly clear, however, that the only people who don’t appear to be owed sex or relationships are straight, white, men.

On multiple occasions during the course of my adult life, I have been called a “racist” by a black man who wanted my phone number and to whom I did not want to give it. Sometimes I didn’t want to give it to him because it was obvious he wasn’t my type. Sometimes I was just disinterested. Sometimes I was taken. In all instances, my rejection was not met merely with annoyance, but with a charge of “racism.” As though their blackness entitled them to my time, even if their maleness left me disinterested. As though a failure to be interested on my part could only be attributed to an aversion to brown skin, rather than an aversion to them, as an individual. I never thought much of these instances because I have, in fact, dated men of color before. As a child, my first Hollywood crush was on a black man. As an adult, about the only human I would consider leaving my wife for is a black woman (I jest. I would never leave my wife. But if I did it would be for Jessica Williams). My disinterest in these men was not because I am incapable of attraction to black bodies. I just wasn’t interested in those men; a fact they were quite offended by and quite willing to project over.

Shortly after coming off of active duty, I got called “fat phobic” for the first time. It wouldn’t be the last time and, despite the general definition of oppressive hatred, at no time has this name been lobbed at me because I’ve been treating those who are overweight as though they are “less than.” I’m not scared of fat people. I don’t hate fat people. In fact, unless you are an overweight person with whom I am personally acquainted, I probably have effectively zero feeling about you or your excess weight. If you’re a fat person with whom I’m personally acquainted, my feelings towards you will have little to do with your weight and significantly more to do with your personality and your work ethic. You do you, boo, just don’t be a mean person or a shitty coworker along the way. That said, I acknowledge a lack of physical attraction on my part when it comes to overweight people. Part of it is that I’m just not attracted to the body type. Part of it is that I am an insanely active person, and I do make certain assumptions about other people’s lives and activity levels based upon their body types. I am going to assume that someone who is 150 pounds overweight is not going to be compatible with who I am as a person. My unwillingness to date people who fit this criteria, my disinterest in having sex with a body type that does not appeal to me, is apparently rooted in a deep and unacknowledged phobia of fat people. I got told by multiple women that unless I’m willing to force an attraction to fat people, I am fat phobic. How I treat these people out of the sheets is completely irrelevant.

A little research showed that fatphobia was hardly the only politically correct pile of shite making its way into bedrooms. White people who won’t date outside their race are, with some level of regularity, told they’re racist. Refusing to date someone from another country, culture, or religious sect is now deemed xenophobic. Even refusing to date someone who had children or wildly different political views than your own was, somehow, deemed inappropriate. Even as society has been trying to drill into people’s heads that no one, NO ONE, is owed a relationship, that same society is doing an excellent job of telling us that we’re not allowed to say “no” to certain people. Saying “no” to marginalized or “othered” individuals is no longer a simple declination of sex, and is now an act of discrimination. Their marginalization, apparently, entitles them to both my time and my body.

Through it all, sexism is a charge that has largely gone underutilized amongst most groups. Gay men are never called sexist for refusing to fuck women, and straight people are never called sexist or homophobic for not being queer. Lesbians, however, haven’t been granted this same dignity. (As usual, bisexuality is ignored. For once, the bi’s of the world are pleased about this). Probably because the idea that sexual pleasure can exist outside the scope of a penis is, for many, wildly inconceivable.

For as long as lesbianism has been a thing, people with penises attempting to convince lesbians that said lesbians do, in fact, enjoy dicks have been a thing. For most of history, those people have been humans presenting as straight men, who apparently can’t conceive of a woman not wanting any dick at all, let alone their dick. In more recent years however, a vocal cohort of trans women, many pre-operative and still possessing intact penises, have taken to outing lesbians who refuse to date them as “transphobic.” As though one’s bedroom is an arena in which our efforts at establishing equality for all can be adequately assessed.

Here’s the thing, a lack of attraction to a particular characteristic or a disinterest in having a particular characteristic in your bed or yourself, is not a form of discrimination. Why? Because absolutely no one, no matter how disenfranchised they may be by the rest of society, is ever owed personal time, relationships, or sexual intimacy from or by anyone else. They’re just not. Lesbians don’t owe transwomen sex or relationships, and they don’t owe them an explanation for why they’re not interested in these things. They are not suffering from a case of discriminatory genital preferences, because sexual proclivities are not preferences- they are ingrained parts of our beings.

Do you really think straight women wouldn’t make the transition to vaginas if it was as simple as changing their genital preferences? The existence of straight women is proof positive that basically everything about our sexual attractions are beyond the scope of our control.

While we can control whether or not we act on these attractions, control over what we are attracted to is pretty fucking limited. Do you really think pedophiles enjoy being pedophiles? If you do, I’d recommend reading an interview with one. It’s pretty eye-opening, if you can get past the part where you’re reading an interview with a pedophile. And all of them make quite clear that acting on their attraction to children is within their control, but the attraction itself is not. A fact that tends to leave them shunned by society whether they act on them or not, and pretty fucking miserable for obvious reasons. The list of things I’m not attracted to is relatively long and, while the list itself is mutable because additions have been made over the years, I have never found myself attracted to something that had once previously repulsed me.

You will not change someone’s attractions simply by couching their sexual disinterest in social justice warrior language and attempting to shame them into being attracted to you.

All you’ll do is piss them off and lose an ally. If you don’t want to date someone who is black, white, or purple, you don’t have to. If you don’t want to date someone with a particular set of genitalia, you don’t have, no matter what their external presentation is. If you don’t want to date a particular gender, you don’t have to. You don’t have to date people with mental illness, with food restrictions, with terminal cancer, or with webbed feet. You don’t have to date fat people, skinny people, or exercise obsessed people. You don’t have to date rich people or poor people, the fashion forward or the fashion oblivious. You don’t have to let anything other than your attraction to that particular person, or lack thereof, determine whether you date another person. And if you don’t want to date anybody, at all, you don’t have to. And you never, ever, ever owe them any explanation for why you are not interested. In fact, an argument could be made that you’re better off not giving them a reason.

Get your shamey social justice warrior bullshit out of our bedrooms. NOW.

No one owes you anything.

5 notes · View notes

spideyxchelle · 6 years ago

Text

When Peter Met Michelle

the when harry met sally au

Betty looked right past Michelle. Her words trailed off. She raised her eyebrow, “Elizabeth, what are you looking at?”

Her best friend tilted her head, “There is someone looking at you in the romance section.” Michelle turned over her shoulder scanned the little bookshop for the offending watcher. She spotted a rather short man not-so-subtly hiding behind a book with a rather busty damsel draped in the arms of a half-naked sailor. She could not properly make out his face without her glasses. She squinted. Still, his eyes did not ring any bells.

Michelle turned to Betty, “Do you know him?”

She shook her head, “Nope. I’d remember that face. He’s cute.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, “You think every crusty white boy is cute.”

Betty sighed, “I know. It’s my greatest weakness.” Her friend snapped to attention, her spine straightening and she hissed, “Crusty white boy is coming over here.”

Her back prickled. Michelle was not in the mood to be harassed by some man she had never met. She had other things she needed to accomplish that would very certainly get derailed if romance-section-guy made her life difficult. Michelle grabbed the sleeve of Betty’s shirt, and implored her, “We should go.”

“Michelle?” A third voice she had not heard in nearly three years hoped tentatively.

She dropped Betty’s sleeve. In all the bookshops, in all of New York, Peter Parker had to walk into her favorite one. “Peter,” she breathed.

At thirty, he still managed to retain some boyish charm to his looks. His hair was not receding and the wrinkles around the corners of his mouth and eyes looked more like markers of smiles than markers of age. All in all, he had aged well.

Betty cleared her throat.

Michelle ducked her head and cursed, “Shit. Sorry. Betty this is, uh, Peter Parker. Peter Parker this is Betty Bryant. We both work together at—”

“The Daily Bugle,” Peter finished for her. He flushed, “Sorry, that was rude. I read your article last year on the bathroom bill, Miss Bryant. It was really something.”

Michelle saw Betty completely melt into mush. Her best friend was many things—an ace reporter, an excellent cook and a horrible sap around moderately attractive men. She waved him off and giggled, “Oh please.”

“Really,” he grinned. “It was great. Really made me think.”

She took a half-assed curtsey, “Well, thank you.”

Michelle interjected, trying to move the conversation into duller and less intimate conversation, “How’s married life, Peter?”

His smile deepened into a frown. Hanging limply off of his wrist was a plastic bag from the bookstore, and he pulled a recent purchase free. Peter flashed the title. It read: Surviving Separation and Divorce.

A tidal wave of shame flooded her system and drowned whatever sarcastic remark she was cooking up on the off chance he decided to be the same infuriating person she had met years before. Now, she felt like the asshole.

Betty sympathetically cooed, “I’m so sorry.”

Peter shrugged, “It happens.”

“What happened?” Betty indelicately asked. Michelle groaned. Her friend flushed a deep red and stuttered, “Oh shit. I’m so…wow…that was….shit, just ignore me. I’m going to…” Betty pointed behind herself and stepped away slowly as her mouth continued to run, “…go, I think. Nice to meet you. Sorry about your divorce. Oh. Shit. There I go, again.”

“Betty,” Michelle called after her friend who was ducking out of the little book shop. “Betty, where are you going?”

“Anywhere else,” she said.

The front door of the shop swung shut and the little bell hanging over the door tolled. Michelle dropped her head and sighed. Peter chuckled. Michelle looked up, “What?”

He scratched the back of his neck and smiled graciously, “Nothing. That was just—”

“—a lot,” Michelle agreed. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I don’t think she meant to offend you. She’s a reporter. Asking questions is a reflex.”

He slipped his book back in the translucent plastic bag. Michelle loathed the stretch of quiet that webbed between the two of them, connecting them in the most uncomfortable manner. She feigned a stretch, “Well, I should probably—”

Peter swiftly cut her off with a question, “Do you want to get some coffee?”

Michelle felt her eyebrow raise so high it hid in the curls swept all over her face in a messy fashion. She cleared her throat, “Excuse me?”

Peter swung the bag between his thumb and forefinger anxiously, “Just, uh, I feel like I owe you an apology. And a coffee.”

She should have said no. She should have learned from the two experiences she had with Peter Parker. She should have wished him well on his divorce and gone on her merry way. She knew she should have, but she couldn’t help herself from nodding, “Yeah, alright.”

Coffee turned into lunch. Lunch turned into a mid-afternoon stroll through the crowded New York streets, ducking strings of tourists, while Peter did his best impression of Tony Stark.

Michelle laughed. It was the kind that ached from belly to her toes. Her entire body sparkled. She had not laughed so hard in years. Perhaps, she thought, since before Harry Osborn had punched a hole through her life and left the empty bits a hollow cave.

She wiped laughter tears from the corners of her eyes, “God, I haven’t laughed like this in years.”

Peter nudged her arm with his elbow, “You should laugh more. You have a nice laugh, Michelle.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, but it was more affectionate than she had ever imagined she could have conjured for such a man. They were not twenty-two anymore. Thirty had softened their edges.

At twenty-two, she had been a healthy skeptic of his intentions and he had wanted to sleep with her.

At twenty-seven, she had been unwilling to adjust the sour taste he had left in her mouth from their first meeting and he was obnoxious to a fault.

At thirty, they had lived enough life to take every interaction at face value and learned that people were capable of change.

And it was only for that reason that Michelle tucked a curl behind her ear and said, “My friends call me MJ.”

Peter looked gobsmacked, like someone had beat his head in with a bat, “I-I thought you didn’t think men and women could be friends?”

Michelle glanced at the piss-stained New York City street, “I didn’t.”

He smiled at her. She smiled back. And their eyes locked.

His phone buzzed and jerked them out of the unnatural moment. She was glad for his distraction. She couldn’t pinpoint why she felt so vulnerable. He squinted at the screen, “I’ve, uh, got to go.”

She extinguished the fire of disappointment that raged in her stomach and, in that smoke, asked, “Where are you going, Peter?” He blanched. “What are you hiding?” He struggled for purchase, until she laughed, again, “I’m just kidding. I don’t care.”

Peter good-naturedly tossed her a careless grin, “You’re just the same, Jones.” She teasingly crossed her heart. He returned the gesture. Peter asked, “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

“Careful,” she warned, throwing her hands to her hips, “or we just might be.”

They were.

Peter and Michelle spent most days together. Mostly laughing. Michelle could not remember a time where she had laughed so much. She had always been considered a serious girl and a harder woman. Laughter was a hard won feat and Peter Parker bubbled laughter out of her like a professional. And the laughter was accompanied by something better—talking.

They could talk about anything and everything. There was no pressure and no stress. They were two old acquaintances that had fallen into friendship. There were no rules.

As they walked through Central Park toward the bitter end of November, Michelle sipped her coffee and let the cup linger near her nose so she could skirt off some of the chilly air with the steam. Peter waved his hands dramatically as he recounted his dream from the night before, “Then, I’m making out with that cute girl from my office.”

“Gwen,” Michelle helpfully supplied.

Peter snapped his fingers, “Right. Gwen. And suddenly, my Aunt May is there and she’s giving me pointers. Like, ‘Peter do this’ or ‘Peter don’t be so handsy’ or ‘Peter that’s too much tongue’ and I’m very stressed. How am I supposed to impress office girl…”

“Gwen,” Michelle reminded him.

“…if my Aunt May insists on being there,” Peter finished, undeterred from her interruption.

Michelle took another thoughtful sip of her coffee. Peter patiently awaited her thorough assessment. He was an insane dreamer and she, better than anyone, could piece through the bullshit. Anyway, she liked that he valued her opinion. For someone so chatty, he liked to listen. “Well,” she started. He perked up and she rolled her eyes, “It sounds like you’ve got some kind of crush on the office girl.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peter chuckled. She lifted the coffee to her lips, but he stole it out from underneath her hands and took a generous gulp.

Michelle frowned, “Ask first, dork.”

He returned her coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his mouth. “Besides, you know I’m not ready to date yet,” Peter said quietly.

Michelle sighed. She had not meant to insinuate he should be dating. After all, she knew that the ink had barely dried on his divorce from Felicia, but he had been chattering on about the office girl, Gwen, for two whole weeks. He deserved to date someone nice after the viper known as Felicia had bled him completely dry.

Eventually, one of them had to start dating, again. Peter seemed the type to start first.

Michelle knew it was hypocritical to expect him to date while she was still humbled by her break up with Harry, but she couldn’t imagine dating any more disappointments. She had known when she met him they were not going to get married. Hell, he had even told her that he wasn’t the type of man to get married, but after nearly three years of dating, she had started to harbor a secret hope.

It had all been blown to bits when she had figured out her most deep, secret wish—she wanted kids. She wanted conventional. Or, at least, as conventional as Michelle Jones could swallow. She wanted to be a wife and mother, and a journalist and feminist. It was 2018. She could have everything she wanted and more.

Except Harry didn’t want any of that.

She had told him, quietly, that she wanted kids, leaving marriage to the side as not to overwhelm him, and he had stared at her blankly. He had stared at her for a long time. When he had stopped staring, when he looked away, Michelle had known it was over.

Really, she was glad it was over. She deserved to be with someone that loved her without conditions.

“I thought I told you,” Peter grumbled, yanking off the tie that Michelle had wrapped around his neck, “I’m not ready to date.”

“Yes, you are,” Michelle pulled his hands away from the tie he had ruined and meticulously retied the damn thing. It was a deep blue. She had seen it at the store the other day and thought it suited him, so he was going to wear the thing or else she was never buying him anything, again.

Until she saw something else that was perfect for him.

He was a hopeless case of a man. He didn’t know how to shop for himself and as his best friend she had a moral obligation to help him not be such a human disaster. Besides, he needed to look nice for the date she had squared up for him.

“You’ve met Betty,” she stuck her tongue out thoughtfully as she focused on his tie. He had really made a mess out of it. She tightened it. “She’s nice.”

“I don’t want to date Betty,” Peter pouted. “I just got divorced,” he pitifully moped.

Michelle raised her manicured, unimpressed eyebrow, “Seven months ago. You can’t keep using that as an excuse.”

“You and Harry broke up nine months ago and I don’t see you dating.”

“Careful,” she pulled on his tie. He swiped a kiss on her cheek and sidestepped her to look in the mirror. Michelle rested her hands on her hips and watched him fuss with his reflection. It was endearing how nervous he looked. “You look great. Don’t be nervous,” she said.

He smoothed down his shirt. “I’m not nervous about the shirt.”

She moved beside him and stuck her tongue out at him in the mirror. He laughed. Michelle checked his hip, “Then, what?”

He made a funny face at her in the mirror. She mimicked the gesture. “I, uh, asked my friend Ned to come.”

Michelle blinked. Then, deeply scowled. “Excuse me?” she gritted through her two front teeth. It had taken her three weeks to convince Peter to go on a date with her desperately single friend Betty and he pulled this stunt? Oh, yeah. She was going to kill him.

As if sensing her murderous intent, he put his hands up, “Hang on. Wait. I just figured we could, uh, make it a double date. Ease into it.”

Michelle tossed a sock at his face, “Double date? Who is going on this dumb double date, huh?”

Peter sheepishly caught the sock, “I was hoping you would.”

“No,” Michelle laughed bitterly. Peter took a step toward her, adopting his most pathetic, adorable face. Michelle really was going to kill him. His face would not be weaponized. She was not going out. Michelle had a date with a carton of ice cream. She repeated, more seriously, “No.” He pouted. “No,” she said with finality.

No, she was not going. No, sir. Not her.

The restaurant was bustling with happy couples, all except the foursome that sat in center at the deep purple round table. Betty picked up her fork and counted the prongs for the twentieth time. Peter pursed his lips and kept a wary eye out for the waiter that would mercifully save them from the silence. Ned was sweating. Badly.

And Michelle loathed being roped into the whole mess.

The waiter appeared with too much exuberance for their morose bunch. She flipped open her notepad and chirped, “What can I get you, folks?”

Michelle flew out of the gate with the most decisive (see: complicated) order of the group. She liked things to be just right. The waitress looked overwhelmed, but dutifully jotted down each instruction. Betty and Peter were both used to the way Michelle ordered, but she could feel Ned watching her with more than a healthy dose of skepticism.

When the waiter scurried off with their orders, Peter broke the silence, forcing a stuffy, formal introduction on Ned, “Michelle is great. She orders things in a way you’d never expect, but it always make the food better.”

“It was a lot,” Ned mumbled.

“But better,” Peter insisted. He winked at MJ and she was, as always, so thankful for him.

Ned rested his napkin on his lap, “If you say so.”

The table grew cold and quiet once more.

She was certain this painful meal was penance for some terrible crime she had committed in a past life, like the guy that created glitter or bedazzled track pants. Michelle attempted to drag the group into some semblance of conversation and turned to Betty, “Did you know that you and Peter are both from Queens?”

The blonde smiled thinly, “Really?” Peter nodded. Betty added, “I was actually raised in Brooklyn, though.” The table went dull and mute.

The lapses in conversation were long enough that to an outside observer, Michelle wondered if people thought they were some kind of traveling performance art group doing a commentary on silence. Michelle would have preferred if they were.

Ned spoke next, “I read a fascinating article in the Daily Bugle today.” Michelle nearly audibly groaned. They had exhausted all topics of conversation that Ned was going to talk to her about some article he skimmed in the Bugle that morning. As a reporter, there was nothing worse than hearing news regurgitated back to her as small talk around the dinner table. It was, undoubtedly, the worst double date she had ever, ever been on. “About the future role of AI in politics. It was fascinating. Terrifying but fascinating.”

Michelle’s eyes flew to Betty whose own were as wide as saucers. Her friend slowly grinned, “I wrote that.”

Ned’s jaw dropped, “Get out of here.”

“No,” she laughed. “I totally wrote that. It was my article.”

“Wow,” Ned smiled, loopy and dumb, “It was…wow. I mean, I shared it with nearly all my co-workers.”

Betty blushed a pretty pink, “You’re joking. Get out of here.”

“Swear it,” Ned scooted his chair closer to Betty.

Michelle watched in silent horror as the sparks flew across the table. Peter nudged her under the table and their eyes met. He looked equally horrified.

It was, without question, the worst double date of her life.

Then, Peter shrugged, as if to say, “Ah well, at least someone is having fun”, and MJ decided she rather agreed with him.

Later that night, after Michelle had kicked off her heels and curled into bed with the pint of ice cream she had originally planned to share an amorous evening with and curled up to a movie marathon on TCM, she called Peter. They watched the film together from their respective apartments and chatted over the phone.

She swallowed a mouthful of rocky road, “I can’t believe Betty and Ned left together.”

“Are we so out of practice with dating, we just repulse people? Is that it?” Peter crackled over the phone.

Michelle squinted at her television. It was the end of Casablanca and, like always, she thought Humphrey Boggart was a beautiful man. He was smooth and selfless and didn’t let a dinner table go stale without conversation. God, that double date was awful. “I don’t think I’m repulsive,” Michelle wondered out loud.

Peter huffed into the phone, “Trust me, you’re not.”

Michelle smiled, “Thanks, Peter.”

On the television, Ingrid Bergman walked out of Boggart’s life forever and he handled it all with a stiff upper lip. Michelle admired that. He was able to handle heartbreak like a chip on his shoulder and he carried it well. It wasn’t a burden.

Her love life didn’t always feel that way.

As the credits rolled, Michelle put the empty carton of ice cream on her bedside table, “I’ve got to get up for work in a few hours.”

Through the line, Peter yawned, “Me too.”

“Lunch tomorrow?” She turned off her television and the bedroom light. “I’d never miss it.”

Michelle smiled, “Good night, Peter.”

“Good night, Michelle.”

“You’re joking,” Michelle peaked over the top of her cubicle to gawk at Betty who was clacking away on her computer. Her friend’s face was an inscrutable mask and Michelle chose her next words very carefully, “You’re moving in with Ned? But you’ve only been dating four months.”

Betty patiently pulled her glasses off and looked up at Michelle. With some kind of wisdom Michelle knew she did not possess, Betty said, “When you know, you know.”

Michelle gnawed on her lip, mulling that over, and countered, “But Ned?”

Betty stood up and rested her elbows on the frail wall that stood between their two cubicles. She tapped Michelle affectionately on the nose, “I like him.”

Michelle was more than skeptical. She had liked Harry Osborn, too. She had moved in with Harry Osborn and thought she had the whole dating scene figured out. It had all imploded in her face and left her very much alone. She melted down all of that worry in one sentence, “Are you sure?”

Betty grabbed Michelle’s hand and squeezed it. “Absolutely.” It didn’t make her feel completely better, but it took some of the edge off of her worry for her friend. “Now,” Betty grinned and shoved an article in MJ’s arms, “Can you edit this for me?”

“I think its sweet,” Peter threw his arm around Michelle. The fragrant May air tickled her nose and she buried under his arm that wasn’t quite the right fit. He had always been a little more than a hair shorter than her.

Michelle gave him an discouraging look. Peter smiled wider, “I do. Come on, Ned is a good guy and Betty is sweet. It makes sense.” Michelle grumbled. Peter kissed the top of her head, “You’re just being grumpy.”

“I am,” she determined. Something playful welled up in her and she trilled, “I’ve been told I’m awful cute when I’m grumpy.”

Peter lamented, “I said that one time. It was New Years. Let it go.”

Michelle wrapped both of her arms around his waist, “Never.”

Peter smothered a kiss in her curls.

They walked in companionable silence for several city blocks until Peter grinded to a halt. Michelle unwound her arms from around him and groused, “I don’t want to unpack boxes at Ned and Betty’s too but…” Her words trailed off when she saw Peter’s face. It was dark and open and sad. He was zeroed in on something in the distance—Michelle turned around to find the source of his distraught—or someone.

There was a beautiful blonde woman with long, lean legs and a chest that rivaled Marilyn Monroe. She looked vaguely familiar to Michelle, but she could not put her finger on where they had met. It was hazy, like she had seen her in a photograph.

The blonde approached the two of them with a truly stunning man wrapped snugly around her waist. Michelle looked between Peter and the woman, and it dawned on her just when Peter said, “Hi Felicia.”

“Peter,” Felicia said politely. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Peter looked lost. He wasn’t even trying to come up with any kind of response. He was staring at his ex-wife sadly and beseechingly. She had torn out his heart and stomped all over it with her thick six-inch heels.

Michelle extended her hand and introduced herself, “Hi. I’m Michelle. Peter’s friend.”

Felicia tentatively shook her hand and Michelle felt the sharp scratch of her nails as they made polite. She wanted to toss this careless, frivolous woman across the street. The man beside her, though, would most likely take objection to her plan.

Michelle offered her hand to him, as well, “I’m Michelle.”

He smiled tightly, “I’m Gene.”

Peter finally found his voice on whatever desert island he had lost it on and said, “You look well, Felicia.”

She locked her arm in the crook of Gene’s arm and said, “Thank you.” Felicia hesitated only a second longer before adding, “Well, we should be going…”

Peter nodded. It was all he seemed capable of being able to do. Felicia showed no remorse for his obvious discomfort and, with Gene, left the pair of them standing in the middle of sidewalk.

Peter silently unboxed another set of kitchen supplies as Ned and Betty argued in their new living room. Michelle rubbed her temples as Betty tried to be diplomatic about the ugliest coffee table in existence, “Ned, sweetheart, I don’t want the coffee table in the living room. It doesn’t match the couch.”

Ned slid over to the round, wagon-wheel accessory and pled its case, “Okay, but imagine, we’re watching old Westerns and BAM! It’s like we’re in the movie.”

Betty patiently took up his hands and offered an alternative solution, “How about we put it in your study?”

Ned shook his head, “I want the guests to see it.”

Michelle rose her hand, “As I guest, I don’t want to see it.”

The bickering took on a new life as Ned and Betty discussed the pros and cons of the worst interior design choice ever put on coffee table legs, when Peter stormed into the room. He had been silent the entire afternoon, dutifully doing what was asked of him but not contributing at all to the conversation. So, the whole room stopped.

He addressed his friend with an abnormal tightness to his voice, “Hey Ned? Do me a favor and put your name on this coffee table okay? Do it with all your stuff. Because you might think you’ll be together forever, but then one day she’ll start coming home late from the office and you’ll be left at home with a cold dinner for two.” His voice steadily rose from intensely quiet to shouting, “And when the divorce comes, she’ll want to take everything from you, including this stupid, wagon-wheeled, Roy Rogers garage sale coffee table!”

Three sets of eyes stared aghast at Peter as he stormed out of the room, but before he left Ned found the courage to yell, “I thought you liked this coffee table!”

Peter threw his hands in the air, “I was being nice.” The front door slammed shut.

Ned and Betty slowly turned to Michelle for answers. She wanted to explain how cold and callous Felicia had been that afternoon, and how Peter had looked so devastated by the mere sight of her. She wanted to explain that Peter had spent over a year working on becoming okay with being a divorcee. She wanted to explain how he was finally crawling out of the hole of hell Felicia had bombed in the center of his life just for her to show up to remind him of how much she had hurt him.

Michelle said, “He just bumped into Felicia.”

Both Ned and Betty tried to pry details from Michelle about the meeting but she waved them off and plummeted down the stairs after Peter. He was furiously pacing in front of the apartment building and muttering to himself.

Michelle perched herself on the stoop and waited for him to speak. It took him a few minutes but he finally stopped walking and said, “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Michelle patted the concrete step beside her and offered some sage advice, “Peter, you’re going to have to find some way of not expressing every feeling you have every moment you have them.”

He bristled, “Oh really? Well, next time you’re teaching a lecture series on social graces, make sure to let me know.”

Michelle suddenly pushed off of the concrete and stepped in front of Peter on the sidewalk, forcing him to stop his infernal pacing. She jammed a finger in his chest, “Hey, you don’t have to throw your anger at me.”

Peter demanded, “How is it possible nothing bothers you? You never get upset about anything.”

Michelle felt the pesky well of some unacknowledged feeling churn deep in her stomach. Before it could manifest, she turned on her heel and bounded up the concrete steps, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Peter pursued her up every steps, testing her resolve with every word he spewed, “I never see you get upset about Harry. How is that possible? Don’t you experience any feelings of loss? If you’re so over Harry why don’t you see anyone?”

Michelle turned around, two steps above him, and glared, “I see people.”

Peter shook his head, “No, MJ. Have you slept with anyone since Harry?”

The feelings she was pushing down were rolling up and coursing through her in ways she never permitted, in manners she never allowed. Michelle forced them down to the pits of her subconscious and spit, “That will prove I’m over Harry? Because I fucked somebody?” Peter physically froze. Michelle took a predatory step down the steps and got squarely in Peter’s face, holding him utterly accountable for every stupid, ridiculous word he had thrown at her in attempt to hurt her feelings. “You think throwing the sex thing in my face is going to make the fact that Felicia hurt you, go away? You make me hurt, too, so we hurt together? How the fuck is that fair? I’m not going to commiserate in mutual misery, Peter. I won’t do it.”

She was fuming. Her eyes were firing with anger that he had pulled to the surface. Luckily, that was all he had brought up. She wasn’t ready to have a breakdown about Harry Osborn. She was never going to give Harry that power over her. He had left her and she was fine.

It was fine.

Peter whispered, “Can I say something?”

Michelle blew some stray curls out of her eyes, “Yes.”

“Are you finished?”

Michelle crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, “Yes.”

Peter’s entire face fell and he took the last step up so they were face-to-face and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said fiercely. “I’m so, so sorry.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back, and she hugged him back.

In each other’s arms, they took a deep breath and let it all go. Felicia. Harry. Their fight.

When the hug was over, Peter dropped a careless kiss on Michelle’s forehead, “Come on, we should get back upstairs.”

The front door to the apartment building blew open and Ned tumbled out, struggling with the ugly coffee table. He marched it down to the curb for the garbage man and grumbled, “Don’t say a word.”

The receiver clicked. The voice on the other end of the phone had gone silent. There was only the faint buzzing of the dead line in her ear or, she wondered, if perhaps the buzzing was her ears.

Harry Osborn was getting married.

She tasted the salt of her tears as they leaked down her face. Michelle furiously wiped at her wet cheeks. She hadn’t cried since she was sixteen years old.

Michelle blindly began to type in a new number, one she knew by heart. It rang only twice before a sleepy and rumbled sounding Peter answered the phone, “Em?” He yawned.

Michelle turned inwards on herself, making a cocoon of blankets around herself, and sniffled, “Could you come over?” She knew it was well past midnight, but she was desperate.

Peter sounded wide awake, “What’s the matter?”

“He’s getting married,” she mumbled into her thick duvet.

“Who?”

“Harry.”

There was the briefest pause. And then, Peter said, “I’ll be right there.”

She heard the frantic knocking coming from her front door. Michelle willed herself to get out of bed, but the warm embrace of her blankets was too good to untangle herself. Besides, Peter had a key to her apartment. He could let himself in.

The front door creaked open and she heard the clacking of his shoes on her wooden floors. She didn’t make a sound when he sat on the edge of her bed and the mattress dipped. Michelle peaked out from beneath her comfortable prison of blankets, “I’m sorry for calling you so late.”

“Hey,” Peter said, folding back the blankets so he could see her entire face. He swiped some of her curls off of her face, “It’s okay.” He looked so sad for her, as if he pitied her, and, for some reason, that made her cry harder. She was Michelle Jones. She would not be pitied because her ex-boyfriend was marrying some girl he preferred over her. That was inane. That was silly.

Harry Osborn was getting married.

Her shoulders shook from the weight of her tears. Peter pulled her to a sitting position and slung a comforting arm around her. She buried her nose in his shoulder and wiped her nose with the back of her hand unprettily, “He just called me up.” Peter nodded patiently, encouraging her to speak. “And we got to talking and all I kept thinking was I am over him. I mean, I am really over him. I can’t believe I ever was into him. And then,” Michelle’s voice hitched. “And then, he said he had some news.” Her tears completely enveloped her entire body. It was like a wave crashing into her chest and rippling out to her extremities. “She works for his father. Some kind of lab assistant or something. Her name is Lily Hollister.” She hid her face in her hands to muffle a sob, “He just met her. She’s supposed to be his transitional person, she’s not supposed to be the one.”

She felt Peter rub soothing circles into her back. Michelle loathed how much the small action was settling her tears. When her crying subsided enough that she could speak without her raw throat burning from the strain, she said, “All this time I’ve been saying he didn’t want to be married. But, the truth is, he didn’t want to marry me.”

The truth snapped the last chord of restraint she had on her wildly overwhelming emotions. It was as if years of keeping her feelings at bay had finally cascaded out of her like an avalanche, and she could not stop the natural disaster. She watched on in horror as the strong woman Michelle Jones was reduced to tears by her piss-stain of an ex-boyfriend.

Peter chastely kissed her forehead, “Listen, if you could have him back right now, would you?”

Michelle hiccupped, “No. But why didn’t he want to marry me?” Her voice was more shrill than she could ever remember it having been. She was revolted by the grating sound. It made her cry harder. “What is wrong with me?”

He shook his head, “Nothing.”

Michelle flopped back on her bed. Peter did not wait to follow her down. They lay, side-by-side, and their faces faced each other. Michelle scratched her nose with her fist, “I’m difficult.”

“You’re challenging,” Peter corrected her.

“I’m too cold. I’m completely closed off,” she fought.

He simply tapped her nose with the pad of his forefinger, “You’re particular.”

“And,” she wailed dramatically, “I’m going to be forty!”

Peter openly gawked at her and she could see the ticking mechanism in his brain working through her words, “What? Michelle, when.”

“Some day,” she sat up, perfectly happy to wallow in her own sorrows.

He raised his eyebrow, “In nine years.” Peter sat up and brushed his shoulder against her own. It was a little gesture, but it reminded her that he was here for her, that he had taken a cab across town to be with her after midnight. Harry Osborn didn’t love her, but she had a good friend that did. “C’mere,” he cooed, and she easily fell into his arms.

She whimpered, “I’m going to ruin your sweater.”

“I hate this sweater,” he supplied.

Michelle nuzzled her nose into the fabric and sulked, “I bought you this sweater.”

Peter shrugged, “I stand by what I said.”

His words surprised a laugh out of her. The corners of his eyes crinkled in the pleased little manner that was all Peter. He had such a soft, gentle way about his smiles and the magical ability to make her feel like he only smiled at her that way. As if she was special.

“I’ll go make you some tea,” he said, pressing a kiss to her head.

Michelle clutched his sweater and shook her head furiously, “Peter, will you…will you stay with me a while?”

He pulled her closer, “Of course.” She fell openly into his arms and tucked her chin on his shoulder. She held him until her tears began to subside in earnest. Her heartrate slowed and her breathing evened, and she felt wholly like herself once more, or at least the imperfect version of herself before Harry Osborn called and made those imperfections shards of glass that cut away at her self-confidence.

Peter squeezed her and she smiled. “You good?” he quietly asked.

She nodded and unwound her arms from around him. Michelle rubbed her eyes with the flat of her palms, “Mhmm.”

He smiled and kissed her wet eyes, “Good. Tea?” Michelle bobbed her head. Peter kissed each of her cheeks patiently, “Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoed.

He playfully reiterated, “Okay.” And left a brief, sweet kiss on her lips. Michelle rolled her eyes and pushed his chest without any effort. Peter closed his hand over her hand on his chest and beamed, “Tea, then.” He brushed a friendly kiss against her mouth. She dropped another perfectly friendship worthy kiss on his lips and felt her stomach swoop.

He left another kiss on her mouth, less friendly. Oh, it was all together not friendly.

It was the least friendly kiss she had ever been given in her life.

The hand resting against his chest fisted in his sweater and pulled him closer. They fell into a heady mix of open-mouthed, deep kisses and Michelle ceased to think.

Peter unceremoniously knocked the used box of tissues onto the floor and tipped Michelle backwards on the bed.

The last lucid thought she had before they tripped into the awaiting night was, of course, it had to be him.

#ficlet #when harry met sally au

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thisismyghost-blog · 6 years ago

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1st time I told my fam/friends on fb about the sadistic monster who abused me and is facing agg kidnapping and 3agg rape charges

So idk how some of you will react to this but i have to risk people who will hate me or just turn away in order to gain reinforcements. I have been practically in hiding for almost a year after finally giving up on keeping a bold face at my job that I loved with a few people that I really loved due to the pain I didn’t know how to handle of being visibly and deeply scorned by a few people who I had done nothing to but be friendly and awkward to (just due to lack of social experience)I have been protected under the love of my amazing family, my best friend Sayruh, and the incredible loving man who I can’t describe rn who came into my life about five years ago and with who’s path, unfortunately, was diverged during what I’m about to tell you. This isn’t going to be college level essay ish, so bare with me. I’m bleeding and panting out of breathe in the battlefield of life at this moment but I haven’t dropped the sword and I never will. I don’t have to do this alone, as much as I’ve been alone and felt deeply affected by if people think I am worthless, stupid, ugly, a whore or make assumptions about me that hurt them or take me the wrong way.i have hidden myself to protect others and to protect myself but I see now that is utter BULLLSHHIIITTT y’all. I was in a “relationship”with what fits the pattern of a malignant narcissist, possible psychopath for 9 entire soul crushing, brain washing, body mutilating, being made to believe I was bad or crazy, turning against myself months. That’s the time it takes to grow a fully ripened human, and apparently it’s also the time to nearly break an intelligent, loving sister, mother, daughter, friend, woman almost entirely. This creature who masquerades as an attractive, eloquent, humble, caring, selfless individual has likely been slandering me since the moment he walked into my place of work as he, behind the scenes, carefully put up walls between me and anyone who might later have compassion for the things he had in store for me. That wasn’t terribly hard due to the fact that I was already a very shy person.This Lucifer gaslighted, undermined and abused me while successfully convincing me that he was helping me become a better person and applying his version of “therapy” based on his claimed experience in mental health in another country and coming out of terrible traumas all by himself. This person took the self doubt i already had, filled it with poison, and offered it through a needle promising the antidote. This person used my compassion and love for others to convince me to let him do horrible things to me as a stress relief or way of dealing with their past trauma in order to help them, to help them not do self destructive things and be able to go out and help others in Grand ways that he constantly spoke of.I have been hiding because I have seen that human nature tends to immediately start looking for ways to blame or dehumanize people that are in horrible situations like this. I have been hiding because I could feel the seering looks of disgust, feel the betrayel from those I had admired and even looked up to that had already taken place and wished not to extend an opportunity for others. I realize now that I have been ashamed of being vulnerable to someone else’s lack of humanity and feeling as though that truly debased me or may as well if it succeeded in debasing me from human status in the eyes of most people onlooking, so why give them a chance to onlook?I have no choice now because today I was shown my choice by the assistant district attorney. It was my hope to protect others from this monster. It was my hope because I have seen what these creatures who walk among us, looking like people, expressing emotion on their face like people, and I have seen this creature twist otherwise upstanding, moderately intelligent individuals into hating a person in order to discredit them and also back them further into a corner, convince them they are nothing, watch them suffer and feed on their tears like a twisted vampire. You think you can spot a monster? Maybe you would have better luck. I think we all think we do, how can you not believe what your mind is telling you when you look at what looks like a human being but is a monster no one warned you about, who literally takes pleasure in slowly driving you insane and takes bites out of your flesh like a wolf and yelling at you for bleeding. I am not perfect, no one is. I make mistakes, that’s human. I take the wrong path sometimes, also human. Do I need to say that in order for you not to start asking a million questions until you get to the part where your brain can let out a sigh of relief and go “ooohh I was worried this world was that horrific for a minute but clearly this bitch is an idiot or a sinner who deserved whatever she’s going on about.”?I want to stop and give credit where credit is due.I am tempted to name names but I haven’t. There are people who I worked next to everyday and only had affection for who completely turned their back on me when he was arrested. I didn’t call police, my doctor did. I hate attention, I have no vendettas. I have to get out of this corner letting him and his minions scare/shame me into silence and projecting their ill motives onto me. I know it makes no sense. I only know that I am sure I experienced what I imagine thousands of murdered women experienced in their final moments. I feel that he would enjoyed watching my final moments and holding them in his hands like a god. I only know that an amazing doctor who I trusted and went to for advice about how to not get murdered or even possibly salvage my life from without police help because I didn’t believe they would help me. I believed him when he told me his ex’s called police and he talked them away, I believed him when he told me that police came to my door at times when I was screaming and he talked to them while I was in the bathroom crying and convinced them everything was ok. I believed what he didn’t have to put into words but only insinuate, that everyone will call me a stupid lying whore for staying around and trying to get help would only result in being told so. I was wrong. My doctor called the police without my knowledge, everyone treated me with compassion and respect and told me I was safe now. I thought that meant other girls would be safe now. I was mistaken. I held onto the remaining shards of my life with all my strength, allowing people under his spell to treat me despicably as I fought the tears, told myself it’s my fault for not being a better person who speaks up and is more than just quiet and friendly but involved and let’s you know them and is there for you. I tried to hold my head high and ignore them or focus on the 3 friends I had left and remind myself that they could have no clue what the truth was and that they would never believe me over such a charming loveable individual. How do you tell someone that a person they admire is capable of worse things than they have ever imagined and expect them to believe you unless they are incredibly close and trusting of you?Trial is coming up. I thought I could seek back up through expert witnesses and professionals who could untangle the dark web of deadly lies, ignorance and misinformation. I thought maybe I could find others like the girl he claimed to have put in the hospital for three months.. I thought.. Maybe.. I could sleep at night one day without picturing dead girls all alone in a landfill disposed of by him and forgotten. That is only my imagination but your mind is your window to the world and it’s all you see. Instead I am told that due to the burden of proof, even after the stack of felony indictments an incredible female detective at Smyrna PD was able to procure on my behalf.. That he will most likely walk free or get less than a decade and be let loose upon the world again. If you ever get hurt, make sure it’s by a total stranger and that you see clearly what’s going on in order to be able to immediately, report it and get the hell away from them so the law can protect you.(sarcasm if u didn’t see it.)There has to be an alarm raised and debate changed. Not for me but for my niece, my cousins, our daughters and sons, every human being who is out there vulnerable to be spotted by a shark who probably dresses and speaks properly and seems like a “stand up citizen” maybe even have a position of authority, maybe even like he did, claim to be a representative of Jesus and some version of my personal Satan’s false story that he was a champion of all orphans and the disenfranchised. I have pictures of him surrounded by smiling children he claimed were in a orphanage he managed for a time in an impoverished part of the world and claimed to have been their main source of affection and mental health assistance in dealing with the loss of their parents.If you are totally mind f9(?#d after reading this, understand that I have been fighting epic battles through Hell daily via my mind and PTSD armed with love from my son, family, Antwane. An inkling that maybe I can build some sort of bridge to the nameless victims who will never have a charge formally filed much less prosecuted, the forgotten girls buried in shallow graves because a monster feasted on their human heart and knew no one would be in their corner to save them and that society at Large would walk on their unmarked grave with no tears shed for a “whore”. Armed with the small bit of reason and understanding I’ve gained through education and love not letting me die no matter how much agony and confusion and darkness swallowed me whole I walk out of that dark corner of shame today. I still need healing, I still am learning not to be hard on myself, I still have no idea what I’m doing but I’m fighting y’all and I have gained the type of clarity I’m not sure many people ever have after a lifetime. There is no magic day to come where after you try hard enough you never incur anymore criticism and you feel good enough, but in the meantime those who are so sure of themselves are devouring the innocent, virtually wholly unchecked and every bully, every shaming comment meant to put you down and shut you up is a type of weaponry used by those behaving inhumanely and projecting their diminished humanity onto you. Don’t let them do it. If you care how you affect other people you are top notch in my book and every shortcoming you have tell everyone to STFU about and keep going. Your inability to wow a crowd or rock a swimsuit for a magazine or even speak to a stranger or your emotional outburst and lack of attention to your house when you’re depressed.. any and everything that you feel ashamed about, you give it the middle finger for me. Your voice in your own head and how you see yourself is where it starts and YOU are who I need to join me in this fight with the odds insanely against me and the rest who fall into their snare. I need you to keep trying,I need you to fight to see for yourself what really matters and what is left because there are no superheroes or quick fixes and everytime you feel empathy for someone and want to take their pain or help, this is how. You become strong and you fight for reason, compassion, you fight the voices that degrade and throw away human beings but you start with your own.If you want to talk, text me. Might take some time but I’ll be there and I will not judge anything so if you just need to vent things you feel shame about I am a good sounding board I have discovered. I don’t have any answers for you but I am another human being who values you. Naj is doing great btw he’s facing his own bullies but he’s got an expert on his side and an amazing dad and uncle. I have an extremely bright gorgeous life ahead and I see it on the horizon. I almost said if I don’t reach it I will die trying but there are 3 amazing guys in the next room that love me, a gorgeous brilliant sister a few minutes away, my mom with her endless Love, compassion, years of memories and experience that I hope to be able to properly learn from and appreciate, this genius niece who is so much like me at her age but better and actually likes me. I could keep going. If you looked in the mirror today and thought anything besides “Damn fine bitch, world’s lucky to have me!” then go apologize please. Maybe you won’t mean it but you can get there. I may not be able to stop him. There may be Hell on Earth that I have yet to see, but the people who love us and are waiting for us to meet and love them, they are what matters now. You are what matters to me now. He used to tell me I would gain great wisdom from him and help him change the world. I did gain wisdom, I won’t give him credit for that, I dug it out of the ashes of what he left behind. If that’s possible then imagine what you can do

#recovery #recoveryafterabuse #recoveryafterrape #raperecovery #narcabuse #malignantnarcissit #sadisticpsychopath #covertmalignantnarcissist #psychopathabuse #datingpsychopath #datingcovertnarcissit #rapetrial #lowselfesteem #shame #ptsd #rapetraumarecovery #pnsd

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