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camisoledadparis · 7 months ago

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 7

The Trial of Socrates

c.5th-4th Century BC – Anytus, son of Anthemion, was one of the prosecutors of Socrates. An unsubstantiated legend has it that he was banished from Athens after the public felt guilty about having Socrates executed. We do know that he was one of the leading supporters of the democratic forces in Athens (as opposed to the oligarchic forces behind the Thirty Tyrants). Plato also depicts Anytus as an interlocutor in his dialogue the Meno.

Anytus was a powerful, upper-class politician in ancient Athens, one of the nouveaux riches. Anytus served as a general in the Peloponnesian war: He lost Pylos to the Spartans during the war, and was charged with treason. According to Aristotle he was later acquitted by bribing the jury. Anytus won favor after this by playing a major role in overthrowing the Thirty Tyrants. Though Anytus lost much money and provisions during this eight month battle, he made no attempts to regain it back; this also helped his reputation with the Athenians. He came from a family of tanners, successful from the time of his grandfather. Socrates refers to his son's education in the Apology.

Both Anytus and Socrates were lovers of the young Alcibiades, but Alcibiades treated Anytus with great contempt. Once when Anytus had invited him to dinner, Alcibiades arrived late and already drunk. Seeing the table laid with gold and silver dishes, Alcibiades ordered his slaves to take half of the dishes back to his own house. Having played this prank, Alcibiades departed immediately, leaving Anytus and his other guests greatly surprised. When the guests began to rebuke Alcibiades, Anytus excused him, saying that he loved the boy so much that he would have suffered Alcibiades to take the other half of the dishes, too.

In 403 BC, Anytus supported the Amnesty of Eucleides, which stated that no one who committed a crime before or during the Thirty Tyrants could be prosecuted.

Anytus seems to have had at least two motivations for prosecuting Socrates: Socrates constantly criticised the democratic government of which Anytus was a leader. Anytus may have been concerned that Socrates' criticism was a threat to the newly reestablished democracy. Socrates taught Anytus' son and Anytus perhaps blamed Socrates' teachings for poisoning his son's mind or taking him away from the career path his father had set for him. Xenophon has Socrates forecast that the boy will grow up vicious if he studies a purely technical subject such as tanning. And Xenophon tells us that the son became a drunk.

1775 – Franciscan Chaplain Father Pedro Font describes two-spirit people among the Yuma in his diary entry: "Among the women I saw some some men dressed like women with whom they go about regularly, never joining the men. The commander called them 'amaricados' because the Yuma call effeminate men 'Americas' … I learned that they were sodomites, dedicated to nefarious practices."

1917 – Hurd Hatfield (d.1998) was an American actor best known for his role in The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Born in New York City, he was educated at Columbia University before traveling to London, England where he studied drama and began acting in theater.

He had won a scholarship to study acting at Michael Chekhov's Dartington Hall company in Devon, England. Returning to the United States with Chekhov's company in 1939, he began a sexual affair with fellow troupe member Yul Brynner a year later. Unlike Brynner, however, Hatfield remained exclusively homosexual his entire life. During the time the company was playing on the West Coast, Hatfield was signed by MGM.

In his film debut in Dragon Seed (1944), he and his co-stars (Katharine Hepburn, Akim Tamiroff, Aline MacMahon, Turhan Bey) portrayed Chinese peasants. It was Hatfield's second film, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945), that made him a star. As Oscar Wilde's ageless anti-hero, Hatfield received widespread acclaim for his good looks as much as for his acting ability. However, the actor was ambivalent about the role and his performance. "The film didn't make me popular in Hollywood," he commented later. "It was too odd, too avant-garde, too ahead of its time. The decadence, the hints of bisexuality and so on, made me a leper! Nobody knew I had a sense of humour, and people wouldn't even have lunch with me."His subsequent films, The Diary of a Chambermaid (1946), The Beginning or the End (1947), and The Unsuspected (1947) were successful, but Hatfield's career began to lose momentum very quickly. Other films include Tarzan and the Slave Girl (1950), King of Kings (as Pontius Pilate) (1961), El Cid (1961), Harlow (1965), The Boston Strangler (1968), King David (1985), Crimes of the Heart (1986), and Her Alibi (1989).

He appeared frequently on television and received an Emmy Award nomination for the Hallmark Hall of Fame videotaped play The Invincible Mr. Disraeli (1963). In 1957, he appeared in Beyond This Place which was directed by Sidney Lumet. Among Hatfield's many other television credits are three guest appearances on Murder, She Wrote opposite his Picture of Dorian Gray costar, Angela Lansbury, who had become a lifelong friend.

Hatfield was totally gay and had many affairs with younger men over the course of his career.

He died at his home in Cork, Ireland, in 1998, soon after having Christmas dinner with friends..

Rock Hudson and Phyllis Gates

1925 – Phyllis Gates, (d.2006) was an intensely attractive, dark-haired woman, a naive farm girl from Minnesota who landed a secretarial job with a New York entertainment corporation. This sparked an interest in show business, and she moved to Los Angeles, taking a job with the Hollywood agent Henry Willson who not only represented Rock Hudson, but had invented his name. Willson, who was also gay, knew that rumours about Hudson could ruin his best client, who had just won a leading role with the young James Dean and Elizabeth Taylor in Giant (1956).

Willson was particularly worried about the sensational magazine Confidential, which had spoken to some of Hudson's former lovers. Accordingly, he contrived for Gates and Hudson to date each other after they had met in his office. Then, in October 1955, a Life magazine article on "Hollywood's most handsome bachelor" reported: "Fans are urging 29-year-old Hudson to get married - or explain why not." Willson had to move, quickly.

Hudson proposed to Gates in Willson's office, and she accepted at once. The following month, the agent organised a private wedding. No Hudson disclosure appeared in Confidential.

At first the marriage went well, Gates wrote in her 1986 book, My Husband, Rock Hudson. He was generous with gifts, particularly jewellery; and they had a sex life, although it was usually "brief and hurried". But Hudson began to go out a lot, even late at night, offering only lame excuses.

There were calls from young men, but Gates thought they were fans. Then, in an argument, he told her that "all women are dirty" and, during sudden rages, he hit her. She went to see a psychiatrist who warned her that he might be homosexual. While in Italy making A Farewell to Arms (1957), he "virtually abandoned" her for five months. She sued for divorce the following April, received $250 a week for 10 years and never spoke to Hudson again.

She remained in LA and became an interior designer, but never remarried.

In the multitude of misused Hollywood women, Phyllis Gates, must rank among the saddest. She never made a film, or even auditioned for one. But she married Rock Hudson, one of the movie industry's biggest stars.

1946 – Said to be the oldest surviving organization for LGBT rights, Netherlands' Center for Culture and Leisure (COC) was established in Amsterdam in 1946. The goals of the C.O.C. were twofold: to contribute to social emancipation, and to offer culture and recreation for gay men and lesbians. The social emancipation focused on getting revoked article 248-bis in the Wetboek van Strafrecht, the main code for Dutch criminal law.

Originally named the "Shakespeare club," the founders were gay men who were active with "Levensrecht" (Right To Live), a magazine founded a few months before the German invasion in 1940, and which re-appeared after the war. The Shakespeare club was renamed in 1949 to "Cultuur-en Ontspanningscentrum" (C.O.C.). From its beginning in 1946 until 1962, the chair was Bob Angelo, a pseudonym of Niek Engelschman.

1987 – Chris Crocker is an American Internet celebrity, blogger, songwriter, recording artist and former

YouTuber and pornographic film actor. Crocker gained fame in September 2007 from his viral video "Leave Britney Alone!", in which he tearfully defended pop singer Britney Spears' comeback performance at the MTV Video Music Awards; his video received over four million views in two days. The video gained international media attention, hundreds of parodies, along with criticism for Crocker.

Producing and acting in his own videos, Crocker is a self-described edutainer. In almost all of his adolescent works, he presents himself as an openly gay and effeminate Southerner in a "small-minded town" in the Bible Belt. Using "Crocker" as a stage name, he kept his exact location private due to safety concerns and death threats in response to his YouTube and Myspace video blogs and profile until he was no longer a teenager. According to his Myspace profile, Crocker lived in Los Angeles as of January 2008. In May 2010, he returned home to Tennessee, and now travels to Los Angeles for business.Crocker's work consists mainly of short-form, self-directed monologues shot in his grandparents' home. As of October 2010, his videos had received a combined 50 million plays on MySpace, and his vlog channel on YouTube was the 100th-most viewed of all time in all categories, with over 205 million video views, before Crocker closed his YouTube account in September 2015. Crocker's detractors and critics have accused him of narcissism, melodramatics, histrionics, and using Spears' personal shortcomings to bolster his own fame. Others have accused Crocker of acting in the "Leave Britney Alone!" video, although he insisted it was genuine on a September 2007 appearance on Maury Povich's Maury show. In 2014, Queerty stated that with Crocker's thousands of Facebook and Twitter followers, he is "one of those self-invented social media icons".

In July 2011, it was announced that Crocker had been signed by Chi Chi LaRue to appear in a pornographic film. He made his adult debut in October 2012 for Maverick Men. In 2014, Lucas Entertainment digitally released Chris Crocker's Raw Love, which features Crocker in a scene with his then-boyfriend Justin Dean.

1987 – Aaron Carter was an American singer. He came to fame as a pop and hip hop singer in the late 1990s, establishing himself as a star among pre-teen and teenage audiences during the early 2000s with his four studio albums.

Born in Tampa, Florida, Carter began performing at age seven and released his self-titled debut album in 1997. His second album Aaron’s Party (Come Get It) (2000) sold three million copies in the United States, and Carter began making guest appearances on Nickelodeon and touring with the Backstreet Boys shortly after the record’s release. He is the brother of Backstreet Boys' Nick Carter

Carter’s next album, Oh Aaron, also went platinum, and the musician released his most recent studio album, Another Earthquake!, in 2002, followed by his 2003 Most Requested Hits collection.

He later appeared on Dancing With the Stars, the Broadway musical Seussical, the off-Broadway musical The Fantasticks, and made several one-off performances. In 2014, he announced that he would begin releasing new music and began by releasing a single featuring rapper Pat SoLo, "Ooh Wee", which first became available as a free download with purchase on his web store. Carter released a single, Fool's Gold, on April 1, 2016 and an EP titled LøVë on February 10, 2017.

Carter came out as bisexual on August 5, 2017, through Twitter, and later that year on December 18, he made a guest appearance on the podcast LGBTQ&A to discuss both his career and sexuality. He reaffirmed his bisexuality publicly on at least one other occasion, but said all his past relationships were with women.

On November 5, 2022, Carter died at his home in Lancaster, California, at age 34. His body was found in his bathtub by a housekeeper. An autopsy was performed but the cause of death was deferred, pending a toxicology report.

1989 – Turkey: Journalist Ibrehim Eren is imprisoned for protesting police harassment of gays. He was held for four months.

1997 – Speaking before a Georgetown University audience of about 300, three Jesuits presented their different perspectives on how the church should regard and spiritually counsel gay men and lesbians. Cardinal James A Hickey objected to the debate because he felt that the conservative view on the wrongness of homosexuality would not get a fair hearing.

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my-sibling-wears-a-muumuu · 2 years ago

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This Punk, the feelin' that you stay for

I made a fic with kobra and peach (my character) critique me if you want, interact if you want

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"You're.... new?"

The new person stared at Party, eyes wide. Kobra's arm slung around their shoulders. Ghoul and Jet sat across from both, all holding the only set of playing cards in the diner.

The new kid held out a hand, chipped black nail polish decorated their finger nails. They had on Kobra's fingerless glove, he had the other one still. They wore a woven bracelet, it was various shades of green. And bad luck beads all down to the mid arm.

"Peach Spider, and your kob's siblin' right? Party Poison?"

"Yah," Party answered as they took xer hand, shook a little, and dropped it. "You uh, runnin from the city?"

"The handshake made it a little obvious, huh?" Peach said, putting their hand back on the table

"So, uh, what've you two done today?"

Jet giggled, "And last night!"

"They stayed the night?"

"Ze did," Ghoul answered, "You woulda know had your cute ass stayed here. Which, where were you last night honey buns?"

"I- What I was doing doesn't matter, ze stayed the night?"

"Hah, you coulda heard in the fucking city!" Jet added.

"He was not that loud," Peach said, "American Idiot mighta heard us in zone 2-"

"None of that was you?!" Ghoul exclaimed to Peach, disbelief in his voice he spoke to Kobra, "Your a fucking bottom!?"

"Bottom is a bit- I can't fight it anymore." Kobra tried, and failed to defend himself.

"Well-" Party started, "I'm gonna let you all get back to your-" they made a hand motion, "-game, have fun, don't fuck, in a little I'm gonna go pick up kid."

When they were finished they left the diner, and walked to the other portion of the diner. The diner had a Mechanic's shop and motel attached to it. They walked to their own motel room.

---

A few minutes had passed since party left for their room.

"Dude your a bottom?" Ghoul said suddenly. "Woulda pinned you for a top, little man."

"And loud? Like, your so... quiet, all the time, like you never speak." Jet added.

"Well," Peach spoke up, "I like my lover a little loud. Ya know?"

"Sometimes only havin to only make noise is nice." Kobra said. "Lotta effort goes into topping."

"Yeah but you were like, super fucking loud, how do you have all of that in ya? Like...?" Jet asked.

"I dunno." Kobra mumbled, "Can we not dive into this any further?"

"I mean, sure, little man, but i heard you two rooms down!" Ghoul said before dropping the topic.

Off in the distance a school bus was approaching, it was covered in art. The tires were kicking up the sand and dirt on the road.

"Oh shit!" Peach exclaimed before rushing to get out of the seat, they rushed out the door to kobra's room.

"What was all of that about, little dude?" Jet asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Zer apart of the fun bus crew. Dirt and Neon are comin' to get zem." Kobra said, putting his last card down, "Also, I win, fuck you." With that he got out from the booth, and went to his room where peach was.

#danger days fanfic #mcr danger days #danger days #danger days true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlofk #mcr #party poison #kobra kid #jet star #fun ghoul #Peach Spider

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laminatednewspaper · 2 years ago

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What’s the four nickels? Because that sounds great

I’ll say them on order of how I originally found and watched/read/listened to them I’ll try to be vague about the main plots of the stories they come from. It started unintentionally, I don’t have a specific interest in trains or anything, but to me it’s a trope I find highly specific and very funny.

First nickel: Iron Girder from the novel Raising Steam by Terry Pratchett. She used to be a regular old steam train but (in the way that magic works in the discworld) her engineers love and care for her so much she becomes sentient. She doesn’t cause chaos but she does kill a guy who was trying to kill one of her engineers. She lets loose a steam vent on the guy and absolutely vaporizes him, it’s excellent.

Second nickel: the titular infinity train from the show Infinity Train. A train with unknown motives and unknown reasons for kidnapping random people and forcing them to work through their (completely arbitrary) emotional and mental problems through a weird technologically advanced process or number countdowns. It does cause a TON of chaos because it’s literally kidnapping people onboard and not letting them leave until they’ve worked out their “problems” and sometimes people will die while on the train so it’s technically killing people. A lot less sentience than the other trains, but it still has agendas and simple desires.

Third nickel: various Sentient trains from the Sangfielle campaign of the Friends at the Table podcast. Sangfielle gothic western horror story that takes place in a land kind of similar to the American Midwest except it’s surreal and unmoored from reality. One of the aspects of the horrors is that trains and train tracks are naturally occurring across the region and just pop up randomly without people having to make them. These trains don’t have conductors or crews and putter along doing what trains do most of the time. Occasionally one of these trains will decide to not let people exit the train and keep them riding for fifteen years, and other times they’ll decide to jump the tracks and crash into buildings and towns. Some are more similar to humans than others but they have different needs and desires than most living things do. Needless to say many lives are ruined by these trains and their inscrutable whims.

Fourth nickel: Blaine the Train from the Dark Tower series by Stephen King. Blaine is a super powerful AI that is housed inside a bullet train, and the culture that made him collapsed hundreds of years ago, so without anyone really talk to Blaine got mean and weird. He’s obsessed with riddles, delights in human suffering, and loves to kill stuff. In the times of canon he kills thousands of background people by filling the city they live in with poisonous gas, which I’d argue did caused chaos.

As always, I’m always taking more suggestions if anyone knows of a fucked up train media! The criteria is the train itself has to be sentient and cause at least one death or injury intentionally. It can’t be the conductor controlling the train it has to be the train itself!

#answering asks #I’m hoping that didn’t spoil too much

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years ago

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Nonfiction Thursday: Food for Thought

Salmon Wars by Douglas Frantz & Catherine Collins

A decade ago, farmed Atlantic salmon replaced tuna as the most popular fish on America’s dinner tables. We are told salmon is healthy and environmentally friendly. The reality is different. Almost all salmon sold in markets and restaurants are raised in floating feedlots that pollute our oceans and risk our health.

In Salmon Wars: The Dark Side of America's Favorite Fish, investigative journalists Douglas Frantz and Catherine Collins document how a handful of multinationals transformed salmon farming into our generation’s version of Big Tobacco by concealing health risks and attacking critics. The authors go beneath the water’s surface where millions of salmon are crammed into parasite-plagued cages and fed a chemical-laced diet. The authors document the spread of diseases that threatens the declining population of wild salmon. They take readers inside hatcheries, where young salmon are treated like garbage, and to the farms that threaten our fragile coasts. They draw vivid portraits of characters like the big salmon farmer who poisoned his own backyard, the fly-fishing activist who risked everything to ban salmon farms in the Puget Sound, and the American researcher driven out of Norway for raising alarms about dangerous contaminants in salmon. Finally, the authors chart the future of a salmon farming industry that does not harm the environment or ourselves. What’s at stake, Frantz and Collins explain, is our health, the health of our children, and the health of our planet.

See You in the Piazza by Frances Mayes

The Roman Forum, the Leaning Tower, the Piazza San these are the sights synonymous with Italy. But such landmarks only scratch the surface of this magical country's offerings. In See You in the Piazza, Frances Mayes introduces us to the Italy only the locals know, as she and her husband, Ed, eat and drink their way through thirteen regions—from Friuli to Sicily. Along the way, she seeks out the cultural and historic gems not found in traditional guidebooks.

Frances conjures the enchantment of the backstreets, the hubbub of the markets, the dreamlike wonder of that space between lunch and dinner when a city cracks open to those who would wander or when a mind is drawn into the pages of a delicious book—and discloses to us the secrets that only someone who is on intimate terms with a place could find.

Ten Tomatoes that Changed the World by William Alexander

The tomato gets no respect. Never has. Lost in the dustbin of history for centuries, accused of being vile and poisonous, subjected to being picked hard-green and gassed, even used as a projectile, the poor tomato has become the avatar for our disaffection with industrial foods — while becoming the most popular vegetable in America (and, in fact, the world). Each summer, tomato festivals crop up across the country; the Heinz ketchup bottle, instantly recognizable, has earned a spot in the Smithsonian; and now the tomato is redefining the very nature of farming, moving from fields into climate-controlled mega-greenhouses the size of New England villages.

Supported by meticulous research and told in a lively, accessible voice, Ten Tomatoes That Changed the World seamlessly weaves travel, history, humor, and a little adventure (and misadventure) to follow the tomato's trail through history. A fascinating story complete with heroes, con artists, conquistadors, and—no surprise—the Mafia, this book is a mouth-watering, informative, and entertaining guide to the food that has captured our hearts for generations.

The Cuban Sandwich by Andrew T. Huse

How did the Cuban sandwich become a symbol for a displaced people, win the hearts and bellies of America, and claim a spot on menus around the world? The odyssey of the Cubano begins with its hazy origins in the midnight cafes of Havana, from where it evolved into a dainty high-class hors d'oeuvre and eventually became a hearty street snack devoured by cigar factory workers. In The Cuban Sandwich, three devoted fans--Andrew Huse, Barbara Cruz, and Jeff Houck--sort through improbable vintage recipes, sift gossip from Florida old-timers, and wade into the fearsome Tampa vs. Miami sandwich debate (is adding salami necessary or heresy?) to reveal the social history behind how this delicacy became a lunch-counter staple in the U.S. and beyond.

The authors also interview artisans who've perfected the high arts of creating and combining expertly baked Cuban bread, sweet ham, savory roast pork, perfectly melted Swiss cheese, and tangy, crunchy pickles. Tips and expert insight for making Cuban sandwiches at home will have readers savoring the history behind each perfect bite.

#food #food for thought #nonfiction reads #nonfiction books #nonfiction #reading recommendations #reading recs #book recommendations #book recs #library books #tbr #tbrpile #to read #booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog

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platosshadowpuppet · 4 months ago

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Worldbuilding - the green knight and a bar brawl

People have this conception that earth magic is all healing and bountiful harvests, Errant mused, as he watched the spores swirl and gather beneath the skin of his palms.

They think of the earth as the source of life. They forget the poison plants, the venomous fangs, the tooth and claw, the dark things that feed on death and never see the light.

In his five hundred years as a green knight he'd certainly dealt his fair share of death. Saved a few lives too, though not created any that he knew of. Overall, the scales tipped towards the red. And tonight wasn't going to do anything to address the balance.

He'd seated himself at a table off at the edge of the smoky pub, crept in by a side door. Not exactly announced his presence. Yet he'd been seen, and whispers had made their slow way across the room, behind the bar and back into the dark places beyond, where deals were done and strings were pulled.

Errant swirled the amber liquid around his chipped glass. So many times he'd been here, over the years. More than once in this very pub.

The 21st century hadn't made many inroads past the flaking paint of the front door. In here it could be the Edinburgh of the 19th, or 18th century. Hell, throw some sawdust on the floor and he could be back in the midst of the Jacobite Rebellion.

Certainly you were more likely to hear a man with horns boasting of his Orcish ancestry than you were an American tourist boasting of his Scottish.

The low mutter of talk dipped and paused, before resuming at a more frenetic pace. Errant smiled into his drink. Ah, the king had made his entrance. He turned in his chair, placing his back to the wall and looking out across the room.

The pub was packed, people stood shoulder to shoulder throughout. But they made room for whoever was coming, swirling and parting like a shoal of fish, anxious to avoid the shark in their midst.

An average looking man made his way slowly across the room, pausing to exchange a few words here and there, slap a few backs. He was silver haired, had probably been handsome once, before the drink and the fights. He was dressed in simple clothes. All black and of excellent cut and quality.

Behind him moved others. Three men, two great looming slabs of muscle, one shorter, wiry, and trembling with barely suppressed violence. The third man was missing an ear. The wound was still red and raw.

As if by accident, the first man's path took him to Errant's table. Not directly, not as if he was in any great hurry, but inexorably. As if drawn down a gravity well.

He paused there for a moment, smiling benignly down at Errant like an elderly relative who couldn't quite recall his name. Behind him the pub emptied out. Even the bar staff disappeared down into the cellar.

"How glad I am ta see ma humble pub can still attract Edinburgh's great an' good. A knight, no less!" He shook his head in mock amazement.

"Glad an' surprised". His face twisted with sudden anger, silver stubbled cheeks drawn back from yellowed teeth, black eyes narrowing under bushy brows.

"Since I made it very clear that you were tae get the fuck out of the city, on pain of..." he gestured in irritation towards one of the man mountains behind him.

"Dubh, what was it on pain of?" The man mountain grinned with anticipation.

"Being skinned, chief, skinned and rolled in sea salt".

"Yeah, that was it".

Errant sighed and set his glass back on the table.

"Yes, I got the gist of that from your man. He was extremely keen I understood all about the skinning".

"An' the being rolled in salt", the man mountain chimed in, helpfully.

"Yes, that too. My own request was far more reasonable. I only asked that you recognise the deep god's prohibition on the Fae entering Edinburgh".

Anger glittered in the chief's eyes and he planted his hands on the table top, bringing his face down to the level of Errant's own.

"I dinae care how reasonable you think it is. I'm no obeying anyone's laws except ma own. Especially no those of some senile god rottin' in a cave somewhere".

Without breaking eye contact he gestured behind him towards the wiry man.

"An' you cut Badger's fuckin' ear off! I would'nae call that very fuckin' reasonable!"

Errant grimaced.

"I am sorry about that. Our conversation did get rather... heated". He lent past the chief to look at Badger.

"I did bring it with me, if that helps".

Badger snarled and started forwards. Thick black and white fur burst from his face and his jaw began to elongate and stretch. His raised hands thickened and curled, black claws erupting from his finger tips.

The chief grunted in anger, turned and pushed Badger back with a hand to the chest. As if carried off by a powerful wind, the fur was instantly stripped away. His face snapped back to its normal shape and the claws slid back home. He staggered backwards, white faced and gasping.

Eyes bright with interest, Errant leaned forwards to get a better look.

"So it is true, what they say about you. About your cold touch".

Turning back to face him, the chief shrugged.

"Aye, true enough. I hope that knowledge comforts you, while the lads strip your skin off". He gestured his men forwards, looking suddenly bored of the whole affair.

"Start with the feet. An' try to keep him alive longer than the last one, Badger", he said, giving the wiry man a stern glare.

Errant watched the men coming for him, with an expression of resignation. He raised one hand to his mouth and blew softly across his palm. Swirling spores of madness and blind rage took flight, describing elegant curlicues and lines in the air as they spun and spread.

"Oh well", he sighed, "at least this will make a good meal for the mushrooms".

#fantasy #magical realism #fiction #writing #folklore #fae #creative writing #short story #edinburgh #flash fiction #world building #knightcore #regional gothic

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ajastor · 8 months ago

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A diner is an American staple; flashy in all its retro striped exterior and expansive car park, bustling with its drive-in moviegoers. AJ, in all his luxuries, doesn't have one on his doorstep, a commodity on the other side of the pond. So for its notoriety, he'll order the eggs benedict and try to praise the greasy ensemble in all the ways a tourist is supposed to. Why not?

He hadn't taken long scanning the menu, his phone flashing on the table beside him, stealing the majority of his attention. (As often is the case.) The Astor patriarch puts him in a fouler mood, ruining his vibe when the name Levinon Astor flashes across the screen in chase of his progress in dragging his little brother back across the ocean.

AJ's not really been looking, if he's honest. (And he will lie like hell about it when he bothers to reply to his father)

Settling in, he's been calling it. He'll take up investigating when Leiry runs out of interesting things, and people he can pull out of the dying city.

A shadow casts across his table, where a waitress takes up the spot. "First timer," he grins, eying the menu like he hasn't already decided what he wants. AJ delays turning his head to address her directly, like there's power in making her wait. With his head tipping, he slouches back in the booth, arm lounging across the back of the padded seats. "And if the eggs turn out to be shit-side down," he begins, lowering the menu, as if he might entertain the flirt, or the American customer service to kill for. She's both lucky to have him at the table — for the tip, and unlucky for his entitlement is a poison seeping from his pours. There's already a fifty on the table. "I'm sure the coffee you'll pour for me, love, will be at least worth coming back for."

who: @ajastor . ♡ where: 205 Drive-In .

the diner may just be her favorite place to be, because it’s that word. bustling. busy, but it’s easy to get whisked away into the romance of a busy counter to keep the anxiety from rushing forward, consuming her. she’s having fun. people are so nice here and there’s always so much to do and she’s never ever bored and- during a slow moment, her daydreams are swept away by that incoming presence of feeling. sometimes, it feels like a shiver, and it’s not everyone that she feels. just some people, and it feels special. anyway, it springs her into cheerful action, finishing the ribbon tie of her whimsically wispy ponytail and collecting one menu, for one special guy, on his own tucked away in a booth. with her best smile, she greets him with at least half of the usual lines, with only a handful of her own charming quirks. once that’s over with, she shakes loose, more casual than waitress. but it was the cutest diner in the whole world, after all, she could be a little just cute. “ i know i’m the new girl in town, but i feel like i haven’t seen you around here. d’ya come here often? or have i just been so unlucky that i keep missing you? ”

#o: a.fleur #im sorry he is the worst

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alder-saan · 2 years ago

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The Path of Poisons .2

Manchineel

Larissa x gn! oc

The Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09]

Warnings : none (maybe an hospital can be triggering)

Words count : ~3.3k

Avareida was waiting in the small café in Jericho. They had promised their friend to meet them there, since they had arrived in the city the day before. They yawned. They were tired from their nightly excursion. They crossed their arms on the table, put their head on it, and tried to fall asleep when a waiter appeared.

"Can I get you anything?

"A double long ristretto espresso with whipped cream, but no cream," they grumbled, raising their head.

"There's no such thing," he answered embarrassed.

"I know. A strong coffee without sugar is fine."

"I'll be right back."

He left, they buried their head in their arms again. The door tinkled as it opened. Small heels clicked on the floor. Avareida recognized them as those of Thalia, their friend and history teacher at Nevermore Academy. They sighed and sat down properly.

"You're late, Thalia."

Thalia was a small, pudgy, laughing black woman. Her mother was descended from native Americans, and her father from black African slaves, and she made a point of showing her students all the horrors the colonists had committed in America. Avareida understood. They were a descendant of the Cree.

Thalia always wore very colourful clothes, probably, Avareida thought, because she wasn't that happy after all, and today was no exception: she had put on a yellow dress with white polka dots and a little pink hat to match her tights. Where did she get all her clothes? It was still a mystery.

"Yes, I'm sorry Rei, we had a little trouble at the academy yesterday…"

"What kind of trouble?"

The waiter served Avareida their coffee and they began to drink it while listening to their friend, who ordered a long coffee.

"Well, for a start, our former botany teacher wanted to destroy the school and to do so she resurrected Joseph Crackmore, her ancestor."

"Woah..."

"Three students managed to stop him, but one of the inhabitants of the town, who was a Hyde and who was killing people in the area, associated with this teacher and another student stopped him."

"Well…"

"And finally, the principal, Mrs. Weems, was found overdosed with belladonna, and one of our manchineel plants has disappeared. We suspect that thieves may have taken the-"

Avareida choked on their coffee. They coughed to regain their composure.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"It is suspected that thieves wanted to take this plant and came across Mrs. Weems, who then gave them a dose of belladonna, not enough to kill her though. The question is: who stole this manchineel, and for what?"

"Mmh… it's strange, this whole thing…" Avareïda said, looking outside.

Thalia nodded, the waiter gave her her order.

"Especially very dangerous! If this person doesn't know what it is, they could die! And if they know, we can be sure of their criminal ambitions!"

Avareida put down her cup, now finished, with the most innocent look in the world.

"Do you know what a manchineel tree is?"

"To be honest, I didn't know until this morning…"

"Read The Path of Poisons and How to Cure Them, by Avareïda Hydrurga, and you'll never have any doubts about a potentially poisonous plant again."

The teacher laughed a little.

"Haven't you finished your commercial?"

"Hey, my income depends almost entirely on the sale of this book! And I love money!"

Thalia sighed, looking up at the sky... well the ceiling.

"So, how was your trip to the South Pole?"

"Nice, I made a friend. I called her Katia."

"What do you mean you called her?"

"She's a female leopard seal. At first she was a bit aggressive, but eventually she accepted me completely."

Thalia smiled as she watched her friend sink into her seat, gesturing wildly as they explained their encounter with the animal. Rei had that look in their eyes when they talked about their travels… she loved to hear them tell their stories.

"Isn't that your mother's name, Katia?"

"Yeah, because she acted like a mother. She used to bring me food. Which was penguins. And since they're not part of my diet, I had to decline her offer…"

"How do you manage to make so many enemies among humans and so many friends among animals?"

"I'm beginning to think that I'm not the problem… well, anyway. Is your principal okay? I mean, belladonna's a hell of a poison."

"She's in the hospital. I'm going to see her right after. You can come with me if you want. I'll just have to stop by the police station first. As you know about poisons, you could help them, couldn't you?"

"I don't see how I could be of any use to them…"

Thalia got up and went to the counter to pay.

"You underestimate yourself… I'll buy your coffee, a welcome to Jericho gift. And since you don't have any money…"

"Thank you for your great generosity but I can still afford coffee."

"I don't want to hear about it. I'll buy you one."

"All right, all right…"

Avareïda stood up and put their brown jacket back on their shoulders. They ran a hand over their hair, which was still neatly tucked back.

"You'd look good with red hair," Thalia remarked, coming back to her.

"Do you think so? I might try it… But I like my hair black."

"Shall I show you around town, and on the way we go to the police station?"

"Oh, yes, I've always wanted to!" they sneered

Thalia gave them a flick.

"Sorry, I don't have much choice, I've been summoned as a witness… You're lucky you weren't there yesterday. You would have been suspected. What time did you arrive anyway?"

"A little before midnight," they lied.

In truth they had arrived at 9 p.m., but they had nothing to blame themself for and didn't want to get into trouble with the law…

The door tinkled again as it opened. Avareida sighed. They had chosen the wrong moment to steal the manchineel tree…

Thalia pushed open the door to the police station, and was immediately greeted by the sheriff. Rei found the man was sad. There was something tired in his eyes. But they didn't know what. The place was small, smelled of ink and coffee. The policeman questioned Thalia with his eyes after noticing Rei, who was going through all the corners of the police station with a curious eye.

"Avareïda Hydrurga, this is a friend who arrived last night. They were not there on the night of the incident if that's what you're wondering. But they can be a great help to you."

"You're exaggerating, Thalia…"

"I'm curious to see that…" the sheriff said

"All because I know a little about poisons," they sighed.

"Mmh, we'll see. In the meantime, I'll take your statement, Mrs Kedlan."

"No problem. Can Rei come along or do I have to be alone?"

"Since you're not a suspect, you can bring whoever you want."

"Then they're coming with me."

Galpin opened the door to his office and pulled the blinds wide open. A bright light flooded the room. He invited Thalia and Rei to sit down, which they did.

"Well, Mrs Kedlan, tell me what you know."

"Well, the boy who called the emergency room went to warn me and other teachers, and when I arrived, Mrs. Weems was lying in the greenhouse, and a manchineel tree was missing, but there was no sign of a crime. The thief knew the code of where the manchineel trees were put."

"What were you doing before?"

"I was in my classroom, correcting papers."

The policeman wrote everything down on a sheet of paper, Rei was silent.

"Well, do you know if Mrs Weems has any enemies?"

"I don't know of any. And even though we are not necessarily well regarded, she is well respected."

"I see, so you believe in the hypothesis of a robbery gone wrong?"

"I don't," Rei cut in.

The Sheriff opened his mouth and took a few seconds. He leaned back in his chair, put his pen and elbows on the table, put his hands together and intertwined his fingers before speaking.

"Why did he do this?"

"Why, when the thief had a manchineel tree in their hands, would they use nightshade to poison Mrs. Weems?"

"What do you mean?"

Avareida crossed her legs, sinking into her seat.

"The thief knew the code, so they came from inside the school. Mrs. Weems wouldn't have suspected them until they took the manchineel, and so wouldn't have stood in their way. This means that she interfered after they took the manchineel. Now, when you have a manchineel tree in your hands, you don't try to poison with belladonna."

"Why not?"

"If they had just thrown the manchineel at Mrs Weems, she would have been out of the way. For ever. A manchineel tree is toxic enough to poison you if you stay under it. Anyway, you'd better wait for the potential witnesses to wake up. Starting with Mrs Weems. She'll probably know what happened."

The sheriff nodded.

"Of course, but I like to get a head start…"

"It's possible that the botany teacher or the normie attacked her and stole the manchineel tree… That would fit very well with the fact that she attacked her and knew the code. And it would be the normie who poisoned her because…"

Thalia nudged her. Avareida fell silent.

"I have no more questions. You may go."

"Thank you, Sheriff Galpin."

Thalia stood up, Rei followed. They left the place.

"Rei, the normie was her son."

"Oh… Damn. You think I should go apologize?"

"No, it should be fine. You couldn't have known."

"You want to go to the hospital now?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna stop by and buy her some flowers first. Then I can show you the plant shop, I think you'll like it."

"You know how to talk to me…"

Thalia smiled and walked towards a small shop on a street corner. Huge bunches of poppies, lavender and craspedias indicated that it was the beginning of summer. Avareïda liked poppies, especially pink, wild poppies. They found them particularly charming. They decided to buy some flowers for Mrs. Weems. Their friend went straight to the counter and ordered an assortment of peonies. Rei, on the other hand, walked slowly through the potted plants of different sizes and shapes. Crassulas, bonzaïs of all kinds, everything smelled of soil and humidity. The tables on which large bunches of leaves were placed to embellish the bouquets were made of rough wood. A few everlastings were drying, hanging from the ceiling. They remembered that Larissa had always liked immortals. Rei approached the counter.

"What can I do for you?" the florist asked with a smile.

"I would like a small bouquet of Calendula officinalis and Helichrysum stoechas."

"What colour should the marigolds be?"

"Yellow and orange please."

"Well, I'll make your bouquets, if you'll wait a few minutes."

"No problem," Thalia said

The florist disappeared into the back of the shop. Avareida continued her little observations.

"Rei, who are the flowers for?"

"For Mrs. Weems, I felt bad coming to the hospital without bringing anything."

"But you don't even know her?"

"What's the big deal?"

"And what flowers did you ask for?"

"Marigolds and shrubby everlastings."

"Why shrubby everlastings?"

Rei pointed to the little yellow flowers hanging from the ceiling.

"Because they don't wilt. That way, even if she doesn't wake up for several months, she can enjoy them. The marigolds will be dead, of course. And I like immortals. Besides, surviving belladonna poisoning, although it depends on the dose, is quite an achievement."

"Hm. A student injected her with physo… stuff. Apparently it stabilized her well and kept her from deteriorating."

"Physostigmine. He had the right reflex."

"What's physostigmine?"

"A poison found in Calabar beans."

Seeing the expression of incomprehension on Thalia's face, they continued.

"A vine of the bean family that grows in the tropical forests of Africa."

"But… why a poison?"

"Oh, it's a poison that has the opposite effect to belladonna. Belladonna slows the heart rate, Calabar bean increases it. It's what is used to treat atropine toxicity in general. If he'd put too much on her, it might have killed her, but if he hadn't put any on her at all, she'd probably have died anyway. It was a risk to take. You'll have to reward the boy."

"I see, fighting fire with fire."

"Sort of, yeah."

"So she was incredibly lucky that someone who knew about this came along…"

"You have no idea," Rei murmured thoughtfully.

The florist returned, their bouquets in hand. Thalia paid for her bouquet, Rei paid for hers.

"Say, florist lady," Rei asked, "do you have a loyalty card or something? I might come here regularly."

"Oh, yes, I do."

She pulled out a small card with a sunflower on it from behind the counter and applied two bramble stamps.

"Every 10 dollars you get a stamp, after 10, you get 10 dollars free. The first stamp is automatic."

"Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day."

Thalia and Rei walked out of the little shop, each holding a bouquet. The streets began to fill up slowly. Rei was pensive. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Thalia that he knew Mrs. Weems. He was waiting to see if the woman had changed.

"Rei, shall we take my car to the hospital?"

"Shall we? Yes, I don't know where it is anyway."

"It's not far, we could walk but it takes about half an hour. I'd rather take the car, I'm in heels."

"I'm in heels too."

"Perfect, I parked it near the café."

Avareida followed her friend to the car, thinking about her last real conversations with Larissa.

"You can't, it's not normal to be like this."

"I didn't choose, Rissa, I'm sorry…"

"Stay away from me, you're disgusting."

"But… Rissa…"

"LArissa, for you. You know what, don't talk to me anymore. I don't want to be friends with your kind."

They shuddered, hoping that their old friend had changed. After all, they hadn't seen each other for almost thirty years. They couldn't hate her, even after all that time. Larissa had been a great support to them. She had helped them to integrate, which was more difficult with the two classes they had skipped. It was thanks to Larissa that they had a more or less normal school life. They had always gotten along with her very well. A smile passed over their lips as they remembered the nightly trips to the forest, the times they'd skipped school to go shopping, the coffees they'd had together. Rei shook their head. Yes, their relationship had been good for them. Not everything about Larissa Weems was a waste.

"Rei? Is everything all right?"

"Is it? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about my years at Nevermore."

"Oh, come to think of it, did you know Larissa when you were there?

"From a... certain distance, I know she was there, I might have talked to her once or twice, but I'm not sure. She was already 18 when I entered the academy, I was only 13. I only had two years in common with her."

"That's right, I forgot that you were younger than me."

"When you're around 40…"

"Shh, don't talk about that, I'm still 20 in my head."

Avareida burst out laughing. Thalia frowned as she unlocked her car. Rei climbed into the front passenger seat.

"And that was an old person's sentence."

"That's right, just mess with me. Just because you're four years younger than me doesn't mean you can. Watch out, time's catching up with you."

"Okay, boomer."

"So, shall we go to that hospital?"

"Well, get going, old girl."

Thalia grunted and turned on the ignition. As the car approached the hospital, Rei became lost in thought again. Thirty years had passed. But Larissa was not a forgettable character. Shit, they thought. They didn't want to risk loving her again. Yet they couldn't help but wonder how much she had changed.

"Say, Thalia. Are you still dating that other teacher?"

"Elizabeth? Yes, still. I mean, it's been a few weeks."

"And… your principal is okay with it?"

"She doesn't know about it. It's still new, we haven't told anyone around here, we don't want it to get out amongst our colleagues. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if she was a lesbian."

"She? Lesbian?"

"Why does that shock you so much?"

"I don't know, I'd heard stories about her love for Gomez Addams, at the time, that's all."

Rei smiled a little. Of course she were a lesbian. They'd guessed it, at the time. But Larissa had locked herself in her closet so much that they'd come to believe it.

"Mmm… I don't know… But my gaydar rarely deceives me. You know, we're pretty close, though. Larissa is someone I like and respect very much. I think I can count her among my friends. She has a courage that I don't have and…"

Thalia's voice caught in her throat.

"God, I'm so glad she's not dead. The academy wouldn't have been the same without her."

"I hope she wakes up soon, then."

"Yes…"

Thalia parked the car in the hospital's large car park and got out. Rei followed her into the building. The hospital smelled clean and new. There was no smell of dirt, no smell of damp. It was all white. They were given the room number: room 128. They walked to the lift, without speaking.

The room was clean. Larissa was lying on her bed in a white patient's gown, her eyes closed, tubes in her nose and arms. A machine on the side was going "beep…beep…beep…beep…", as the lines representing her heartbeat distorted into spikes. Thalia readjusted her hat, which she had refused to remove at the reception desk, explaining her gorgon situation, and placed her bouquet in a vase, on the small cabinet next to the main one. Rei did the same. And then their eyes roamed over the principal's body. She had changed, yes. But she was still as beautiful… Very tall, too. Rei estimated her at almost 6"3. They were only a poor 5"7 feet tall.

"Get well soon, Larissa. The academy needs you again," Thalia said, as if the principal could hear her.

A nurse entered the room and motioned for the Gorgon to follow her.

"I'll be right back, Rei."

Rei nodded and left. They took the opportunity to take a closer look at their former friend's features. She was beautiful…

"So you're a lesbian, huh? You should have admitted it to yourself earlier, stupid. You'd better get over it soon. I think I'd like to see you again. You're lucky, I could have hated you."

They left the room to wait for Thalia, who soon returned with a smile on her face.

"Her condition is completely stabilised and she is starting to recover. She even showed signs of brain activity in some places that indicate a near awakening. She'll probably be back with us in a few days!"

Rei smiled. They loved to see their friend so happy. And the thought of Larissa waking up made them happy too.

#larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #larissa #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems #the Path of Poisons

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crisis-on-infinite-batblogs · 3 years ago

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DC vs. Vampires #3

"You were supposed to be East of Moldoff Street."

I will always always always be a sucker for naming streets in Gotham City after past artists and writers. It's such a perfect way to memorialize these legendary creators who contributed so many iconic characters and stories that we all know and love.

These are more than just easter eggs. Giordano Avenue and Moldoff Street are just little lines on a fictional map, but these eponymous streets quite literally make up the fabric of Gotham City. They are dedicated in honor, and in loving memory to all the comic book greats who have worked to bring this city to life.

Dick Giordano worked as an editor and inker for many years, eventually serving as the executive editor of DC comics for much of the 1980's. His name appeared on countless titles and his impact on the industry cannot be overstated. Everyone loves Dick Giordano.

A name you might be less familiar with is Sheldon "Shelly" Moldoff. During the Golden Age of comics Moldoff was a prolific cover artists for titles like All-American, Action, and All Star Comics. Beginning in 1940, he became the regular artist for Hawkman and designed the costume for Shiera Sanders aka Hawkgirl.

After being drafted into World War II, Moldoff became an early pioneer in horror comics, but it wasn't until 1953 that he began drawing for Batman and Detective Comics.

When Moldoff finally arrived in Gotham City, he was working as a ghost artist, drawing stories that would be credited to Bob Kane. At the time, DC employed plenty of these artists and it was a very common practice. The only difference with Shelly Moldoff was this: DC had no idea that he was working for them.

For nearly 15 years, Shelly Moldoff drew Batman on the down low, taking money under the table from Bob Kane. In a 1994 interview he had this to say of the experience:

"DC didn't know that I was involved; that was the handshake agreement I had with Bob: 'You do the work. You don't say anything.' No, he didn't pay great, but it was steady work, it was security... which is the compensation I got for being Bob's ghost– for keeping myself anonymous."

With little pay and zero recognition, you might expect an artist to put forth a subpar effort, or at least phone it in on occasion, but that's kind of the opposite of what happened. Shelly Moldoff and an anonymous army of other ghost artists churned out tons of new characters during this period that have stood the test of time: Calendar Man, Bat-Mite, Mr. Freeze, Ace the Bat-Hound!!!

Shelly Moldoff revived the Riddler. Shelly Moldoff gave us Poison Ivy!

During the Great DC Writers Purge of 1968, many veteran writers and artists lost their jobs after demanding fair pay, pensions, and health insurance. Shelly Moldoff was among them. His final ghost-drawn story was published in Batman #199, and it would be 30 years before he worked for DC again. Moldoff passed away in 2012. He was the last surviving contriubtor of Action Comics #1.

I don't even know how to end this. Before today I had never even heard of Sheldon Moldoff. After toiling in obscurity and keeping himself anonymous for so many years, I guess I'm just glad to know that Gotham City remembers him.

#This is entirely strung together from wikis and a Mike W. Barr article btw #thank you for coming on this journey with me #I hope you learned something new #Shelly Moldoff #Dick Giordano #DC comics #Dick Grayson #Barbara Godon #DC vs. Vampires #panel #Hawkgirl #shiera sanders #witty street name tag

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welcometothevale · 2 years ago

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“Darn, I really thought I was on to something there for a second.” She snickered, snapping her fingers in faux disappointment. “Though her seeing you naked is kinda humorous. I do have to say that I don’t quite understand humankind’s—and, I guess, lycankind’s as well—hangups about nudity and sex. Well, it’s more so here in American than places like Europe from what I’ve heard. Can’t really get off this continent sadly due to the fact that every form of modern travel involves getting in or on something made entirely of poisonous metals.” She laughed, though there was a touch of frustration in her tone. “Anyway, travel tangent aside, fae don’t have the same hangups. In my commune, the whole community would get together for dinner each night; it was similar to the tradition to others of their kind who lived in the fae realm. Each night, one of the rulers of a territory invited as many fae they could fit in their dinner room over to feast. At those feasts, it is common for various partners or groups to engage in sexual activities at the dinner table or somewhere off in a corner or on one of the many lounges and sofas in the dining room. My commune kind of upholds those traditions.” It took a moment for her to understand what she might have implied with her history lesson and quickly blushed. He’s going to think I’ve been having sex in front of a massive room of other people. But I can’t clarify because I was not totally innocent at the dinner table either—no way I am admitting that. She thought, dismayed.

“Oh, sorry. I’m so down with recycling. Most people just don’t do it. I actually have a compost bin, it’s been a fun hobby of mine. I don’t really tell people about it though.” Not many people understood being excited about composting.

Once they left his home, she once again got to take in the delightful sensory overload that was New York City. Rose felt his hand wrap around hers, and she laced their fingers together before smiling up at him. The fae then resumed her absorption of every part of this experience. She wasn’t sure if she’d get to go on another one of these trips with him or how much time she’d get to spend here, so she wanted to take in as much as she could. Also, experiencing new things expanded her repertoire for her illusions. But, she also took frequent breaks to stealthily gaze up at Atilla to study how light of the setting sun gave his face a celestial glow. Anytime his head started to turn her direction she quickly found something new to look at. Every part of her behavior with Atilla went against her nature. Yes, fae tended to blur the lines on friendships and relationships. But they were also very open and honest when it came to if they had feelings for another. Here she was, hiding. Omitting the truth to one of the few people she knew she could trust not to hurt her. And still, she held back. There was a urge she suddenly felt, something she needed to do, that she basically closed her eyes and plugged her ears to because it scared her. She wanted to tell him the truth tonight. Well part of her wanted to, and it might win out.

In the City | Closed

Atilla didn’t need to pack, he was never in New York long enough and had enough of everything there. He had told Zmiya he’d be coming down to visit with a friend, she’d buy him groceries and they’d be all set. Preparing the circle was tricky as Atilla was used to walking back to New York. He had never learned how to drive and walking gave him a sense of freedom but it would take about a week to get down there and he very much doubted wanted to do that much walking. He had locked up his cabin and he had decided to depart in the small orchard of apple trees. Drawing the symbols in the dirt he followed the detailed instructions from Louisa before folding the piece of paper and stepping inside the circle. “Alright, travel circle here we go. You ready? You got everything?” Atilla took out the small scroll from his pocket and read it aloud, the words sounding awkward in his mouth but they seemed to work as the circle and sigils therein began to glow. Atilla took Rose’s hand out of nervousness. He had never used one of these before. There was a flash of light and a whooshing noise and a great wind before suddenly Atilla found himself in a backroom of some sort. Squeezing Rose’s hand to make sure she was still there he ventured through the beaded curtain to see a familiar shop beyond.

“Ah!” Said a voice, sounding happy. A tall woman with blonde hair in a pastel blue summer dress came out frmo between the aisles. “Finally, you used the scroll and circle! I told you Vermont is too far to--oh hello.” She spotted Rose. “Oh goodness, you’re one of the fae.” She said with a grin. The woman was very pretty but you got the sense that she was ancient in soul.

“Welcome to New York, Rose. This is Louisa Gray, my witch friend I was telling you about.” Atilla explained. Louisa offered a hand, her clear blue eyes sparkling as she gazed at Rose.

“Glad to see you finally found a friend, Atilla. I worried about you up in that cabin all alone.” Louisa tutted.

#thepassionateapathetic

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portaltothevoid · 3 years ago

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For Whom the Bell Tolls - Chapter Nine - Detroit Rock City

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Kat Ramsay), sequel to Foolin’

Summary: Hellfire meets for the final time. Eddie and Kat take Chrissy back to his trailer…

Warnings: established relationship, mentions of doing drugs

Word count: 3.7k

Chapter song: Detroit Rock City by Kiss

Tag list: @munchabunch @madaboutmunson @michele131 @riffcrusader @prettyboyeddiemunson @idiot-parade

A/N: double post today! in my opinion, this chapter is far better than the previous one, so please enjoy and know that 10 will be on it’s way soon...

After their meeting with Chrissy, Eddie and Kat made a pit stop at his van to gather the rest of the things he needed for his final campaign. From there, they made their way over to the drama room where Hellfire was held. While Eddie was setting up his spot at the head of the table along with the story map and figurines, Kat went for a vending machine run, grabbing sodas and a few snacks for everyone.

“Are you ready for tonight’s quest, Kat the Magnificent?” Eddie asked her over his steepled hands.

“You bet your ass I am. Dustin got me up to level nine so I am a sorceress now,” she answered with a confident nodd.

Eddie smiled at her. “What a nerd.”

Before Kat could even retort, Gareth and Jeff bursted through the door. A round of greetings occurred before they questioned Kat about her level and her character. All of which she answered with ease as she had everything about that down, as for playing the actual game, she had her notes from Dustin handy.

Eddie had taken his place at the head of the table in his grandiose chair he dubbed his throne. Gareth and Jeff were on Eddie’s right side and Kat stood on his left when the door flew open. In sauntered Mike and Dustin.

“Wheeler. Henderson. You have better not be alone,” warned Eddie as Mike and Dustin sauntered in.

“Would we ever let you down, Eddie?” Mike asked. A young girl wearing an American flag as a cape paraded in behind the two boys.

Eddie’s hands were propped on the table, one over the other. He stared intently at the new addition to Hellfire, scrutinizing the girl in brightly colored and loud patterned clothes. After a moment’s pause, “Absolutely not,” he said.

“You asked for a sub. We delivered,” Dustin said with his hands out.

“This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.” He leaned forward with a sarcastic smile on his face.

“I’m 11, you long-haired freak,” the girl fired back. Kat bit her lip to hide her smirk.

“My, my, the child speaks.” Eddie smiled up to Kat, who let out a chuckle even though it was at the girl’s attitude not at Eddie’s observation. He got up from his seat and asked, “So, what’s your name, child?”

“Erica Sinclair.”

Eddie chuckled. “So this is Sinclair’s infamous sister.”

Erica rolled her eyes and looked back at Dustin and Mike. “He’s sharp,” she said flatly, clearly being sarcastic.

Kat let out a laugh. She liked this girl already. Gareth and Jeff looked at each other and also laughed. Eddie gave everyone a piercing look that instantly brought their faces back to neutral. Even though as soon as Eddie’s head was turned again, Kat kept a smirk on her face.

“What’s your class and level? Level one dwarf?” Eddie taunted. Gareth and Jeff erupted into laughter again.

“My name is Lady Applejack. I’m a chaotic good half-elf rogue, level 14. And I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri,” Erica snapped back. “And I’ll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death. So, we gonna do this, or we gonna keep chit-chatting like this is your mommy’s book club?” she demanded.

Everyone’s eyebrows shot up as she spoke. They all watched in anticipation, unable to predict how Eddie would respond. Mike winced as he waited. With the exception of Kat, who couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she nodded in approval at how much fire and sass Erica had. She knew Eddie felt the same.

He stared at her for a moment before his face broke into a smile. He held out his hand to Erica and simply responded with, “Welcome to Hellfire.” Skeptically, Erica accepted and shook his hand. “Alright. Everyone, get in your seats. We’re starting this shit,” he said as he twirled his finger in the air to round everyone up.

When Mike and Dustin were beside him, he slapped them both on the back. “Good work, gentlemen. I had faith you two could get your bo-peeps on. Hellfire just might stand the test of time after all.” Mike jumped, startled by the aggressive affection.

“Thank you, thank you,” Dustin said with a triumphant smile.

Kat took her place at the table, still to the left of Eddie’s seat. He leaned in behind her, over her shoulder. “Oh and Kat?” he began, “Don’t try to control the outcome. Let the dice fall where they may.”

Kat shot her gaze towards Eddie. “Now what would be the fun in that?” She rolled her eyes at him. “I can’t believe you’d even thought to say that to me,” she glared at him.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Just wanted to make the rules clear.” He then went on to put the finishing touches around the room as everyone settled in. Erica sat right beside her and began setting up, but not before her, Dustin, and Mike exchanged questioning glances with each other, having overheard Eddie.

“Is she like…?” Mike mouthed to his friends.

Dustin quickly shook his head. “No. No. She can’t be. There’s no way…” He started out sure of his statement, but by the end, his face was filled with skepticism. Erica just questioningly raised her eyebrows, until she heard Kat address her.

“Erica, I’m Kat. Pleasure to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Mhm. Class and level?” she asked, shaking her hand.

“Chaotic neutral elf sorceress, level 9.”

“Pfft. And he gave me shit thinking I was a low level,” Erica said as she shook her head.

Kat leaned over to Erica, whispering, “Eddie was just testing you. Trust me, he thinks he’s rough around the edges, but he’s the closest thing to a human teddy bear I’ve ever met. You were in the moment you gave him sass, which by the way, I adored every second of.”

Erica couldn’t help but give Kat a small smile. “Thanks,” she quietly chuckled.

“Everyone ready?” Eddie asked the group.

A chorus of ayes sounded throughout the room. He dimmed the lights and slowly took his place once again at the head of the table. The candles that were lit flickered, casting an eerie glow. Behind his dungeon master screen, he looked over the group one last time before he got right into character.

“We last left off hearing voices in the far distance. As you all approached, it was coming from hooded figures… They are in the middle of worship, sending praise to the one with the utmost power.” He paused as everyone was listening intently, on the edge of their seat to find out what exactly this campaign’s epic finale entailed. “The hooded cultists chant ‘Hail Lord Vecna. Hail Lord Vecna,’” he continued. “They turn to you, remove their hoods. You recognize most of them from Makbar. But there is one you do not recognize. His skin is shriveled, dessicated. There’s something else. He is not only missing his left arm,” Eddie began to rise from his chair, placing his left arm behind his back, “but his left eye!” he emphasized as he used his right hand to also cover his own left eye.

Everyone’s reaction to the final boss reveal was priceless, all were clamoring.

“What!” Kat and Erica exclaimed.

“No! No! Shit!” Mike grimaced, rubbing his face.

Dustin threw his pencil down.

“Vecna’s dead!” shouted Jeff.

“He was killed by Kas,” interjected Mike.

“So it was thought, my friends. So it was thought. But Vecna… lives!” Eddie stated as he slammed Vecna’s figure in the center of the map. He then slyly asked, “Do you flee Vecna and his cultists? Or do you stand your ground and fight?” As the group took a brief pause to make their decision, Eddie encouraged them with a “Come on...”

“I say we fight,” Dustin said. “To the death.”

“To the death!” Erica agreed.

Everyone else followed by chanting and rhythmically slamming their hands on the table, “To the death! To the death! To the death!”

Eddie couldn’t have had a bigger smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, alright then. Let’s play,” he said as his smile turned devilish.

The dice rolled across the board. When they landed in the group’s favor, they all clapped and cheered. But soon, they began to drop one… by… one.

First Mike was out. In protest he slammed his hands on the table as he shouted “No! No!” Next Jeff was down. Somehow Kat was still hanging on, having just enough power with her spells. At times she did need guidance, but everyone was gracious as they helped her out. Even Erica lent her words of encouragement after being briefed about how Kat even got a spot in the club.

When their rolls were high enough to cast some damage to Vecna, they cheered, but that was quickly short-lived as the next set of dice did not turn out in their favor. Her luck had finally run out.

“Come on!” Dustin yelled, throwing his hands up.

Eddie stood up “Have you had enough?” he challenged.

Dustin also got up to menacingly point at him. This campaign was sadistic, indeed.

Eddie cackled wickedly just before he knocked over Gareth’s figurine, signaling he was also out.

“Time out! Time out!” Gareth cried out as he tapped his hands together in a T shape. Eddie waved the group on as they got up and formed a huddle.

“Guys, I hate to say this, but we have got to flee,” Gareth said regretfully.

“I concur,” Jeff agreed.

“Didn’t we all just agree ‘to the death’?” Erica asked.

“That wasn’t literal!” Gareth spoke through gritted teeth.

“I thought you guys were ready to fight this asshole!” Kat added.

“Vecna just decimated us. We can’t kill him with just two players!” Jeff countered.

“You too?” Dustin asked, appalled. “He has 15 hit points left. Don’t be pussies.”

“Pussies? Really? Because we’re not delusional?” Gareth spat.

“Delusional? How about not cowards?” Erica shot back.

“Hey!” Eddie yelled from across the room. “If I may interject, ladies and gentlemen. Whilst I respect the passion, you’d be wise to take Gareth the Great’s concern to heart. There is no shame in running. Don’t try to be heroes. Not today, ‘kay?”

Dustin squinted his eyes at the dungeon master and held up a finger. “One sec.” The group returned to their huddle.

“What do you think, Mike?” Dustin asked him.

“How many hit points do you and Applejack have left?”

“Twelve,” Dustin and Erica said in unison.

“It’s risky as hell,” Mike noted. Dustin nodded in agreement. “But you’re the ones on the battlefield,” Mike continued. “So it’s your call.”

“What do you say, Lady Applejack?” Dustin asked.

“You really gotta ask?” she replied.

Briefly, Dustin pondered his choices. Then he quickly shook his head. “Screw it.” The huddle broke and he turned to face Eddie. “Let’s kill the son of a bitch.”

“The chances of success are 20-to-1,” said Jeff wearily.

Again, Dustin held up one finger. “Never tell me the odds. Give me the d20.”

With an impish smile, Eddie tossed him the die, which Dustin caught effortlessly. He took a deep breath before cupping it in his hands to give it a shake. It was now or never. He let it roll onto the playing board. The anticipation made time feel almost painful. They watched as it bounced and slowly… rolled… to… reveal… the… number…

Eleven.

“That’s… a… MISS!” Eddie yelled, shaking his head.

No’s rang out behind Dustin as he cried, “Shit! Shit!” He hit an empty can of Mountain Dew, sending it flying.

As Erica retrieved the d20, Eddie gave Kat a stern look, which Dustin saw. Kat stepped back and held her hands up, pushing them away from her in surrender. Dustin went to furrowed his brows, but was quickly distracted as Erica had the die in her hands. She clasped it. She shook it not once, not twice, not even thrice.

“Come on!” Dustin yelled.

“Please! Please!” cried Gareth.

“I can’t even watch,” Kat said, covering her eyes, but moved her index finger over so she could peak.

She shook it eleven times in her hands before letting it go. Everyone watched as it rolled, eyes giant with apprehension, mouths agape.

“Please!” Gareth repeatedly begged.

“Come on!” Dustin yelled again.

Until… finally… it stopped.

Eddie leaned forward while the group watched on with baited breath as they also peered at the die.

Somehow, some way, it had landed on twenty.

“Crit hit!” Erica cheered.

“Yeah!” Everyone shouted, clapped, and jumped up and down. The odds were stacked against them, but the odds were never zero.

“What!? What?!” Eddie exclaimed as he brought his hands to his chest and turned left and right, also in shock that they were able to pull it off. He clapped his hands once and leaned forward with the biggest smile on his face. “That’s why we play! That’s why we play!”

Erica turned to him victoriously with her hands on her hips. Eddie put his hands out to her and bowed. The group had beat his campaign, sure, but it was all thanks to her.

Slowly, the initial celebration, the hooping and hollering, died down as everyone gathered their things to head home. The high from the win was going strong. As everyone but Kat and Eddie headed out, their boisterousness could be heard from down the hall. Eddie’s smile never left his face.

“That was seriously the most fun I have had in so, so long,” Kat commented.

“I told you, it’s a fun fucking game.”

“Okay, okay, fine! You were right! I’m so glad, though, that this was the game I played.”

“You know what this means right?”

“What?”

Eddie zipped up his bag, having finished putting away the last of his things. He walked right up to Kat, leaned into her, and spoke into her ear. “You are officially a nerd.” She smiled as she rolled her eyes and teasingly pushed his chest.

Her smile was all of a sudden wiped from her face as a piercing pain shot through her head. Wincing, she immediately dropped to her knees, followed by Eddie with his arms outstretched to grab ahold of her. When the pain lessened, she looked up at him, eyes alight with worry.

“I know, I know. Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said soothingly.

“No, Eddie. This was different. I saw… I’m not sure what I saw. But it was like this red glowing… portal? I– We have to get to Chrissy.” Kat bottled upright and hurried to the van with Eddie right beside her.

“Did you see something’s gonna happen to her?”

“No, but… I wish I could explain. All I know is something doesn’t feel right.” Kat sighed, frustrated with having an exponential amount of questions than answers to anything.

When they arrived at the van, everyone had mostly cleared out with the championship game having ended around the same time that Hellfire did. Eddie had picked Kat up this morning, so she hopped into the van.

“Can you start the van, please?” Kat asked.

Eddie nodded. He knew she needed the radio on, so he turned it up. She breathed out a sigh of relief as Motörhead filled the van’s interior. He glanced in the side view mirror and saw Chrissy poking her head out to check if the coast was clear. She then quickly trotted across the parking lot. “I see her,” he whispered. Kat slid herself over til her side was flush with his, but that last for a brief second as Eddie got out to open the door for Chrissy.

“Your chariot of rust awaits,” he said with a bow. Chrissy giggled.

“Always one for theatrics,” Kat said with a smile.

Once Eddie was back in the driver’s seat, Kat moved herself right against him. She shut her eyes tightly as her stomach felt like it was doing flips now that Chrissy was next to her. To distract herself, she focused on Eddie’s words and the hum of guitars in the background. Slowly, her nausea subsided.

“So, how was the cheer thing?” Eddie asked.

“It was great! We won!”

“All thanks to you, I’m sure,” Eddie said, flashing her a galant smile.

“No, actually it was Lucas… um… Sinclair that scored the winning point.”

“Huh, I’ll be damned. At least missing Hellfire was worth it for him,” Eddie said, slightly gritting his teeth and pouting as his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Chrissy looked concerned at Eddie’s sudden change in mood.

“Lucas missed the final Hellfire meeting for the championship game, so Eddie’s a little bitter about it. Don’t mind him.” Kat informed Chrissy as she leaned into her as he took a corner fast. “Also, don’t mind his driving,” she laughed.

“My driving is just fine!” he defended with a laugh.

“Yeah for a maniac!” Kat shot back.

“You’ve never complained before.”

“Because I’m from LA, I’m used to this. Poor Chrissy probably has her life flashing before her eyes.”

“I’m fine, really. As long as we don’t crash,” Chrissy giggled nervously as the music quieted while the song changed.

Within the first couple of notes of “Iron Fist” by Motörhead, Eddie and Kat both reached to turn it up. Kat conceded first, laughing to herself as Eddie turned up the volume. They were close to his home anyway. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat, while Kat was head banging. “Black night, nothing to see. Invisible hand in front of me. Scared to death someone’s near. Scared to move, but you can’t stay here,” they both sang along, giving Chrissy a mini performance. She just watched, clearly amused by both of them and also moving her head to the fast beat.

After the first chorus, Kat reached to turn it down a few notches. “You’ll be my new best friend if you know who that song is by,” Kat said to Chrissy.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”

“Oh, Chrissy, we have so much to teach you,” Eddie said.

“Hang on now, we can’t force her to be a full fledged freak. Do you like the song?”

“Um, yeah, actually. It’s loud and angry? And I get angry a lot, but I always have to hide it.”

Kat put her hand over her heart and sighed. “She gets it. You get it! Yes! So this is ‘Iron Fist�� by an English band named Motörhead.”

“Oh! Is that what the patch on your chest is for, Eddie?”

He glanced over at her with a twinkle of pride in his eye. “That is exactly what that patch is.”

“Alright, I’m turning this shit back up! Now, one way to enjoy metal or rock ‘n’ roll music is to headbang. Just follow my lead!” Eddie shook his head back and forth so he was still able to see the road, while Kat went all out.

“Okay, I really should see you guys at The Hideout!” Chrissy said as she just let herself go after watching Kat for a handful of seconds. Her smile was plastered on her face as she laughed and just had more fun than she had in months.

Soon enough, Eddie slammed the van into park outside of his trailer. He cut the engine and blaring music ceased. He stepped out of the van, Kat followed behind him, and Chrissy gently hopped out.

“This is, uh, my castle,” he said as he slammed his door shut. With a few long strides, he got to the door and opened it, ushering Chrissy in first with Kat right behind her.

“Sorry for the mess,” Eddie smiled apologetically to Chrissy as he picked up trash he had neglected to throw away. “Uh, maid took the week off.”

“Jesus, Eddie. I’ve only been at my aunts for two nights!” Kat scolded as she went into the kitchen to clean it up and rummage for some snacks.

Chrissy was too distracted by the Munson’s collection of mugs and hats to notice. “You, um… You live here alone?”

“With my uncle. But, uh, he works nights at the plant. Bringing home the big bucks,” he said as he was searching in various places for the reason they had invited her over.

“How long does it take?” Chrissy asked quickly, her nerves clearly getting the best of her.

“Sorry?”

“The Special K. How long to kick in?”

“Oh, uh, well, it depends if you snort it or not,” he said, still searching through a drawer. “Uh, if you do, then, uh, yeah. It’ll kick in pretty quick. Oh, shit,” he muttered.

“You forgot where you hid it, didn’t you?” Kat asked absentmindedly.

“You sure you have it?” Chrissy asked.

“No, no, I got it. Um, somewhere.”

“Check your room. It was left over from last week’s party drop,” Kat suggested.

“Uh… right…” he said as he turned and trotted down the hall to his room. The girls heard him strum his guitar as he greeted it.

Kat shook her head. “If there’s anything he loves more than me, it’s that guitar of his, I swear.” She glanced over at Chrissy who was standing in the middle of the living room, nervously lacing her fingers together. The poor girl couldn’t stay still as she also kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Hey, he’ll find it. Just takes him a while to retrace his steps.”

Chrissy nodded. “Does it… does it hurt to snort it?”

“It’s weird at first. I won’t lie, it’s a little uncomfortable, but you get used to it. It really does kick in faster that way, so you forget about it quick.” Kat gave her a reassuring smile, which Chrissy could barely return. She spun around and opened the fridge. “You want anything to drink? There’s, uh… Well, there’s not much. Looks like there’s milk. Gross. Some questionable orange juice… But of course there’s plenty of beer!”

Before Chrissy could even answer, she heard the clock that had been haunting her chime. Kat instantly stopped looking in the fridge, closed it, and froze. “Do you hear it too?” she asked Kat.

“Yeah… I do…” Kat said as she reached for the back of her neck to feel the goosebumps that caused her hair to stand on end.

previous chapter | next chapter

#eddie munson #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x original female character #eddie munson x ofc #chrissy cunningham #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #erica sinclair #hellfire club #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #joe quinn #joseph quinn

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rogueshadeaux · 3 years ago

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| ➳ Ao3 here | ➳ Quotev here |

InFAMOUS: Erosion Table of Contents

Hey guys! RogueShadeaux here, though that's an absolute mouthful, isn't it? Call me Rogue! She/Her, BIPOC, Mid-20's. I was a fanfiction writer for most of my youth (a cringe one, we aren't talking about it), and I've only just wanted to return after a long stint as a caretaker for my ill grandmother.

➳ What do you write?

This is my blog where I will be posting any art, drabbles or the like related to the inFAMOUS franchise from Sucker Punch Productions. It is also where I will post chapters (along with on my ao3) of my fanfiction inFAMOUS: Erosion, the first of a two book series taking place almost 18 years after the events of inFAMOUS: Second Son.

➳ When do you update?

What are you, a narc? All jokes aside, there will not be a surefire, regular posting schedule that I will promise, though I will aim to post a new chapter every other...Monday. Yeah, Monday, more than likely in the morning on Tumblr, as I’ll queue it, and evening for ao3. Something good to start off the week with, and hopefully, will be consistent.

I'm a weak minded fool with procrastination and perfectionist issues, though, so we'll see.

The first chapter will be dropped December 17th, 2022 — the day that inFAMOUS: Erosion in-story begins (although, another 14 years in the future). Until then, I will post little bits of the story, art, and general inFAMOUS content. Chapter 2 will start the (hopefully) regular Monday postings.

➳ What is inFamous: Erosion about?

I don't have a solid summary yet as I'm typing this, so here, have a blurb from the story so far, which has already accrued 68k words:

She hummed again. That’s all she seemed to do was hum, like it was how she processed words. “I became Delsin’s foster mother when he was your age. A little bit younger, actually — he had just turned 17.” She looked off to the horizon, cool steam lifting from the Sound and threatening to settle on it, freeze it over. “His mother and father were on the east coast when the — when Empire City happened. They caught the Ray Field Plague and…” she sighed. No need to elaborate on what happened to people who had that radiation poisoning. “He became mine when the state came for him. Tribe gets first choice when an Indian goes into foster care, after all.

“Then those Conduits broke out, and…your father had smoke coming out of his hands.” She shook her head, somehow finding enough humor in the situation to laugh. “And you know what? He didn’t get time to play around with his powers, either. But you know what the difference is between his situation, and yours?”

“What?”

“You have him.”

Yeah I'm gonna be mean, that's literally all you get until I have a proper summary, which will be posted accordingly. Story was inspired by the Good Karma stencil art "When Toddlers Attack" (which can be found here under 1.8: Lantern District) while I was replaying Second Son with my 5 year old.

It'll follow Good Karmatic events of inFAMOUS and inFAMOUS 2, mostly Good Karmatic events of inFAMOUS: Second Son, lore from inFAMOUS: First Light, Paper Trails and Cole's Legacy, as well as incorporate the little bits of that extra stuff we got from the inFAMOUS DC comic run. This story will not deal with anything regarding inFAMOUS: Festival of Blood. I might make maybe one reference. But no vampires here.

NO SEXUAL THEMES appear in this story. There will be hard and possibly distressing topics mentioned and discussed, which I advise the reader to heed via trigger warnings I will place. Curation is your responsibility.

➳ Any content warnings?

Canon-typical violence, death, mild body horror, murder, racism but in a Conduit sense, racism in a racism sense, terrorism/mass shootings (typical American stuff :) we’re fine), possible ooc. Other triggers will be added with the specific chapter, as I'm still writing and will probably do some more dastardly things to these poor characters.

➳ Any related tags?

You can find all regarding this fanfiction under the #inFAMOUS Erosion tag.

That's it for now! I'm honestly suuuuuper excited to get back to writing fanfiction — it's been so goddamn long — and this story, I guarantee, will never be abandoned. Literally unless I die. I use this story as a warm-up while I write my own novel to get the brain moving, and since my other tale is a longer series of its own, I definitely won't find a reason to abandon it. So you get the surefire guarantee of a complete story! That's always fun. So sit back, relax, and get ready for a good dose of Sucker Punch's best.

#inFAMOUS #inFAMOUS 2 #inFAMOUS Second Son #inFAMOUS First Light #inFAMOUS Erosion #Delsin Rowe #Abigail Walker #Fetch Walker #Eugene Sims #Cole Macgrath #Zeke Dunbar #Sucker Punch Productions #fanfiction #fanfic

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reidandweep · 5 years ago

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Stitching

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- Much like Adam Driver, I have been a huge fan of Matthew Gray Gubler and criminal minds for years. With quarantine, I decided to re-watch the show from the beginning and I had some inspiration. My writing tends to take a while but if you have any requests or idea for Spencer Reid, please send them my way.

Word Count- 6286 words

Warning- Angst, mentions of violence and torture, fluff, tears, and the usual criminal minds details.

If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge? -William Shakespeare.

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

“Good morning my lover and friends. As of 8:45 am, yesterday morning, four bodies have been found across the Washington State area. Locations confirmed to be Pomeroy, Baker City, Salem, and Mill Creek. All victims were very similar in physical appearance; Caucasian, red hair, brown eyes, approximately 5ft 4’.”

Garcia swiped her tablet to display family photographs of the victims on the screen. The team watched, in the debriefing room, as they scanned through their own tablets; reading through the details. Spencer’s eyes flittered over the images as his fingers scanned across the words in his paper file; still adamant on not working with technology like the rest of his team.

“What about the cause of death? How were they found?”

Garcia shivered at Rossi’s question.

“It’s not a pretty image. Each victim was dismembered at the elbows, knees, neck, and stomach. Further cuts were made vertically down the stomach and across the face, arms, and legs. Not deep enough to cut through bone, but deep enough to bleed out. Where the unsub cut our victims, he then sewed them back together.”

Emily looked up at Garcia.

“Are you saying the lacerations were made before the victim’s died?”

“Precisely. Each autopsy report came back the same with the cause of death pointing to the direction of blood loss; specifically, from the throat.”

The team looked at the new images before them. Multiple pictures appeared on the screen, showing the bodies of the victims. The pictures showing the women laid out in the same pose, thick thread holding together the pieces of their corpses. All had their eyes closed, except one.

“Garcia, the last victim, zoom into her face.”

Garcia did as Spencer asked.

“Her eyes are closed.”

Spencer nodded, glancing towards JJ as she spoke.

“Meaning that he felt remorse for this murder.”

Derek scrolled through the pictures on his tablet.

“The other three victim’s eyes are open, indicating that he wanted them to look. To watch what he was doing, whatever it may have been.”

Spencer looked across the table at the questioning faces.

“So, what changed between the third and the fourth victim?”

Hotch stood from his seat, indicating the others to grab their belonging.

“We can discuss further on jet. Wheels up in thirty.”

WASHINGTON STATE

Being greeted by the local police department in Clagstone, Spencer and the team began their investigation into the murders. Spencer did not know what it was, but the stitching on the bodies felt familiar. Like he had seen them before.

Looking up from his files, Spencer watched as Derek walked into the room, ending a call with who he could only presume to be Garcia.

“Garcia has just completed background checks on our latest victim. Lily Trent visited local film screenings at the Southview Centre religiously, to watch horror movies in particular. Seems like the girl loved anything horror and Halloween; according to her roommate and her computer history. It seems that are other victims did also.”

Spencer stood from his seat and walked towards the whiteboard at the back of the room. Writing down the details Derek stated, his brain began to filter through the relevant information needed.

“Halloween is ranked the ninth most celebrated holiday in the world. With different interpretations of the holiday occurring according to country and culture. Wearing costumes at Halloween did not even become an occurrence until 1585, with the first instance recorded in Scotland.”

Derek chuckled at Reid’s excitement. He knew the boy loved Halloween.

“Well it all looks like they were pretty huge fans of the holiday and horror films. Maybe our unsub was too.”

Spencer looked down at the photos in his hand, scanning his memory for any correlation.

“Maybe, it’s not just horror, but a particular film. If all the victims were presented in a certain way, maybe the unsub is trying to replicate what happened to a character in a particular film.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ll call Garcia to search through all the victims search history to see if any particular horror films come up in each one. Do you know of any films that the unsub could have replicated?”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can collate his actions to hundreds of films but, the method of torture and look of the victims, I can’t think of one horror feature that pinpoints all that the unsub has done.”

A thought unexpectedly popped into Spencer’s mind. Derek cocked his head at the sudden halt from the resident genius.

“But I know someone who might.”

UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON

“The importance of genre in film alters many of the other aspects. The characters and their narrative arcs, the music score, cinematography, the edit, and so much more. Sometimes genre even dictates the director who signs onto the project. Dennis Dugan would not have a directing career if Adam Sandler stopped making comedy movies. Because that is what he directs. He doesn’t direct comedies; he directs Adam Sandler comedies. Which, in my opinion, are a whole genre on their own.”

The class chuckled.

“Genre plays a part in everyday life. Sometimes, your day will be led by romance, or grief, or action. There may be drama, or comedy, or even silence.”

The class looked on in concentration as Y/N walked across the floor. If someone who did not attend the college walked past the classroom, they could’ve presumed that she was a student. She looked young enough.

“It controls the way the characters talk, act, and move. How the plot thickens and pushes forward and…”

The doors at the back of the auditorium opened. Y/N looked up at the sound of the intrusion to see figures that she could not recognise, and one that she did.

Clearing her throat, she continued.

“And how it even ends. We shall leave it at that today. What I want you to do in the meantime is research a genre in particular and come up with examples that counteract the stereotypes that have been enforced upon the genre itself. Hand it in to your professor first thing Monday morning. Thank you.”

Y/N watched as the students collected their things and filtered out of the room. The figures waiting till she was only left before they walked down the steps.

Coming to a stop in front of her desk, Y/N crossed her arms and waited. Spencer stepped forward with a crooked smile on his face.

“Hi Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Long time no see stranger.”

Spencer’s cheeks burned at Y/N’s words. The team shared looks between them at the unfamiliar display. They had seen Spencer blush at people before, but not for a long time.

Spencer cleared his throat, preparing himself to act professional.

“This is Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N. Y/N travels across the country to guest speak at different universities on her topic at hand. She specialises in film studies, more importantly the focus of characters and genres. If I can’t connect the unsub’s actions to a film, Y/N most definitely can.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s praise.

“Nice to meet you all. So, what are you here to talk to me about Doc? Obviously, you’re here on a case and if you are asking for my help, I’m guessing it’s going to be pretty gruesome.”

Spencer blushed at the nickname; caught off guard by the word slipping of her tongue.

Sending a raised look towards Reid, Hotch began to explain why they were there.

“Were looking into a case of connected murders. All victims were found to have been mutilated and tortured in the same way. As well as showing resemblances in their physical appearances. With research, we’ve found that each victim was particularly fond of horror films and Halloween. We would just like for you to take a look and see if you could recognise if the ways in which they were harmed stemmed from a film in particular.”

Y/N nodded her head.

“Of course, anything to help.”

She reached for the files from Spencer’s hands, ignoring the tablet pushed in her direction by JJ.

“Sorry, I prefer to use paper. I only really use technology for my lectures or to watch films if they cannot be purchased in physical form.”

Derek smirked, shooting looks to his team, as his eyes landed on Spencer. He never thought he would meet a technophobe like Reid.

Y/N scanned through the pictures and documents, looking in detail at the lacerations at hand. She identified the similarities between the victims, as her mind swirled through the images and characters from the films, she knew held similarities.

“What were the names of all the victims?”

Emily looked towards the woman.

“That information is classified.”

Y/N did not blink at her abrasiveness.

“Were any of them called Sally?”

The team looked perplexed at her question.

“No. Why that name in particular?”

Y/N continued to scan the pages as Rossi questioned her.

“Because the unsub isn’t replicating anything from a horror movie. The unsub is replicating the physical appearance and staging of a character from an animated movie. A Disney one to be more specific.”

A light bulb flickered in Spencer’s mind as he stared at Y/N in realisation. The hair colours. The stitches. It made sense now.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

LOCAL POLICE DEPARTMENT

“The Nightmare Before Christmas is a 1993 American stop-motion animated musical Halloween-Christmas fantasy film directed by Henry Selick and produced and conceived by Tim Burton. It became a cult classic during the early 2000s with orchestral concerts occurring every year to celebrate the spectacle of the film.”

Spencer indicated for JJ to change the monitor as he and Y/N stood in front of the team to explain the information.

“Originally, the story began as a poem written by Tim Burton. Both narratives follow the protagonist, Jack Skellington, into his journey to Christmastown, and how he tries to make Christmas his own. The character in question that your unsub is replicating is the love interest of our protagonist. Created by Dr Finkelstein, Sally is a ragdoll-esque character whose body is covered with stitches to keep her together. The form in which all the women were found is identical to this scene in the movie.”

The screen changes to show the scene in question; paused at the precise moment to prover her point.

“All red haired, all Caucasian, all eerily the same. The stitches are exactly the same and the pose in which they are in the pictures are also.”

“We now know which film our unsub is mimicking, but how can we produce a distinguished profile of our unsub? All we can say is that between his third and fourth victim, he suddenly began to feel remorseful of his crimes.”

Y/N looked towards Spencer, waiting for him to speak as he knew more details about the case.

“Garcia checked into the victim’s computer histories and found that all four victims attended a horror convention in the Washington state area over the course of the past month. The convention in particular runs every other weekend, focusing on different horror films to highlight. However, they always make an exception for one film; The Nightmare Before Christmas. Whilst reviewing receipts for the tickets, they were all brought through the convention’s website, which is run by its board of organisation every year. Up until recently, the board has held the same members.”

Derek tapped on his tablet to the convention’s website.

“Last month, the website released details stating that a distinguish member was no longer part of the board due to unforeseen circumstances.”

It suddenly dawned on Y/N who Derek was talking about.

“Dean Faulkner.”

Spencer whipped around towards Y/N.

All eyes laid on her as her breath increased.

“You know him?”

Y/N nodded at Hotch.

“I guest spoke at a panel with him a few years back at a separate university. We were both there, amongst others, to talk about the works of a genre that are expertise were in. I was there to basically provide loose ends for what they could not answer. Dean’s specialised area was horror. The whole time he spoke about what he described as the true villains of horror and of the world.”

Y/N gulped, her mouth going dry.

“Women.”

The wheels began to turn in the team’s heads.

Spencer stepped closer towards Y/N in assurance, seeing that her thoughts were becoming overwhelmed. He quickly stepped back after he realised what he had done.

“He went on a raging tangent about the damsel in distress and the final girl. Going on and on and on about how women are weak and would never be the last one standing if faced against the monsters in real life. How they manipulated the men and made the monsters seem worse than they truly were. The only time he spoke positively about women was when we finally calmed him down and, during a Q&A session, a student asked him who the perfect horror movie character was. He said Sally because she was forgiving and would do anything for Jack; even if that meant falling apart and being sewn back together. I tried to justify that the film does not necessarily fall into the genre of horror. But he rebutted saying that it most definitely did, because of the fact that Jack’s dream did not come true.”

The room was silent for a second, taking in the information.

Suddenly, Y/N grasped the pen from Spencer’s hands. Her finger scribbling across the whiteboard.

“I need to know the names of the victims. Get Penelope on the phone and tell me the names.”

The team shocked at her erratic movements, sat in silence.

“Do you want to capture this guy?”

Spencer licked his lips and repeated the victim’s names.

“Susanna Cole, Alice Dawes, Liberty May, and Lily Trent.”

Y/N swiftly wrote the names on the boards. Each name below the other. Underneath the last name she wrote the letter Y.

“Can you ask Penelope to track any females with the first name beginning with Y who have purchased a ticket to the next convention?”

Derek quickly began to type to her. The rest of the team looking on in disbelief.

“There were twenty-three purchases, but with cross referencing with the similarities in the other victims, one matched. Her name is Yasmine Driver.”

Y/N wrote the name on the board. Circling all the first letters of each name, it became clear there was another connection with the victims.

“Their initials spell Sally.”

Y/N nodded at JJ’s disbelief.

“Reid, when is the next convention being held?”

Spencer diverted his attention to Emily.

“Their schedule every two weeks, so that would make it… tomorrow.”

The team swiftly moved into action.

“JJ bring together the police force for a debrief. Derek and Rossi, go to the convention centre and question the board about Dean. Ask them how often he visited and if they have any knowledge of the victims visits to the convention. Spencer and Emily, contact Penelope for Faulkner’s address. Once you have visited the home, if he is there, bring him in. We’re going to try and catch him before he gets close to his goal. I will locate Yasmine and bring her to the station for safety. We don’t know how far he is going to go and what the end goal of his fantasy is. But we are going to stop him.”

The team swiftly did as they were told, leaving the room with only Spencer and Y/N behind. Just before the door shot, Hotch leaned back in.

“Thank you, Dr Y/L/N, for all your help. If possible, could you stay here with JJ and look through the documents? You know this guy more than we do, so any more information that comes to mind, please let us know.”

Y/N and Spencer watched as Hotch left the room, the door shutting behind him.

As the silence engulfed them, Y/N and Spencer were hyper aware that they were now alone and had been for the first time in weeks.

Spencer swiftly walked towards Y/N and embraced her in a tight hold. Wrapping her arms around the slender man, Y/N breathed in his scent.

“I’ve missed you.”

Y/N chuckled at Spencer’s muffled words, as his head rested on top of her own. Pulling back, Y/N slowly released Spencer, letting her hands drop to her sides.

“I’ve missed you too Doc. We can catch up later, I will be waiting right here. Now, go and save the girl.”

Spencer chuckled at her words but did as Y/N said. Throwing her a smile, Spencer quickly walked out the room, leaving Y/N behind.

Y/N sat in the room, looking over the files as the time passed, waiting to see Spencer return with the rest of the team. A knock on the door startled her from her search.

Looking up at the door, Y/N saw JJ walk into the room with two cups of coffee in her hands. JJ outstretched the one hand, placing the cup in front of Y/N, as she took a seat and began to sip at her own.

“I didn’t know how many sugars you took so I estimated.”

Y/N smiled at the woman’s kindness.

“Thank you. Have you heard anything from the others?”

JJ sat up in her seat as she watched Y/N look over the documents. Her fingers moving across the pages ever so quickly. Her hand that wasn’t tapped continuously on the table in a rhythm.

“Spencer and Emily located Faulkner’s home, but it was vacant. They’re looking around the premises for clues for where he may be; as we speak. Hotch and Derek just called saying they are on their way down with Yasmine now.”

Y/N nodded at her words. Glad to hear that the girl was safe, but the main priority now would be to locate Faulkner. She wanted to truly help them, before anyone else could get hurt.

JJ grabbed her tablet and began to search through the files for any missed out information. Silence befell across the pair, until JJ could not help but ask what they had all been dying to know.

“How did you and Spencer meet?”

Y/N had been waiting for the question. She had seen the looks the team had shared throughout the day. The questioning gazes towards the pair.

“Spencer and I were both guests speaking at the University of California a few months ago. He must have finished his lecture early as he was wondering the halls when he came across the class I was teaching. I was stood on the desk, encouraging the students to do the same. Spencer thought I was a student causing trouble whilst the professor had left the room. He ran in sprouting facts about the percentage of people who fall and severely hurt themselves whilst standing on tables. Telling me that I should get down before he reports me to my professor.”

JJ chuckled at Y/N’s story.

“Sounds like Spence alright.”

Y/N giggled in agreement. As she spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their first encounter. JJ noticed the smile on the woman’s face. She knew what that smile meant.

“So, I told him that he better stay there to catch me, just in case I fell, as I was trying to teach my students about the importance of character actions, and how doing something as simple as standing on a desk can amplify the tone of the scene. Like in the film Dead Poet’s Society. Spencer finally realised that I was also a guest speaker and he actually stood there for the next 40 minutes of my lecture. I didn’t need to stand on the desk that long, but I wanted to see if he would stay. Once the lecture had finished, he apologised for jumping to conclusions. I apologised for making him wait for 40 minutes in case I fell. He told me I didn’t make him wait; he chose to. We’ve been in contact ever since.”

Just as Y/N finished her story, the door to the conference room opened once more. Looking towards the door, Y/N watched as Hotch entered, followed by Yasmine. The young woman looked scared, but unharmed.

Y/N stood from her seat, unsure of what to do as Hotch insisted for Yasmine to take a seat.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Hotch nodded his head.

“We shouldn’t be long. The rest of the team are outside in the bullpen. You can go ahead and join them. JJ and I will take it from here.”

Y/N nodded her head, leaving the room. She watched as Hotch and JJ questioned spoke to Yasmine through the glass, before she turned and walked down the corridor to find Spencer and his friends.

Turning the corner, Y/N failed to stop herself before bumping into a tall figure. Looking up to apologise, her eyes suddenly widened at the familiar face. Before a sound could leave her lips, a blunt force knocked her out cold.

Spencer and the team discussed where Faulkner could be when Hotch strode into the bull pen.

“How did it go?”

Hotch walked towards his team, ready to answer Derek’s question.

“It seems that Faulkner had been stalking the victims for some time. Yasmine detailed seeing him turn up at the conventions, even though he was no longer allowed. She had previously complained about his behaviour to the board before his dismissal. Stating that Faulkner had sexually harassed her. Rossi, did anyone at the convention mention anything about Faulkner that we don’t know?”

“It seems that Yasmine wasn’t the only one. The other board members went into detail about why he was fired. It turned out that all of our victims, including Yasmine, had filed lawsuits against Faulkner for sexual harassment. The charges were ultimately dropped and never recorded to keep the convention’s reputation clear. But they fired Faulkner and banned him from being able to attend any further conventions. Taking away the Nightmare Before Christmas dedicated stand was just a coincidence. They felt that the convention needed something new as they had been celebrating the film for over eight years.”

Just as Hotch was about to declare what the next step would be in finding Faulkner, JJ burst through the ball pen.

“Guys, you have to come quick.”

The team, in shock, watched as JJ ran back towards the conference room. All quickly on her heels. Entering the room, she took control of the laptop, streaming the image to the projector.

Spencer could no longer breathe as he looked at the image on the screen.

“Y/N.”

The screen showed Y/N tied to a chair and bent forward; clearly in pain. Her surroundings empty and dark.

Suddenly a voice was heard.

“I sense there's something in the wind. That seems like tragedy's at hand isn’t there Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The team watched in horror as Dean Faulkner yanked Y/N’s head back, her body letting out a strangled cry at the pain caused by his actions.

Spencer felt sick, he felt like he was watching himself when Tobias Hankel had held him captive.

“Emily, call Garcia to track his location. We don’t have much time.”

Emily did as Hotch told her to. Talking as quickly as she could on the phone.

“She can’t track it; he’s re-routing the IP address every thirty seconds.”

“She needs to track it. She needs to find her now!”

They all jumped at Spencer’s outburst, watching as tears filled his vision and his hands began to shake.

“Spencer, you need to calm down, we are going to find her. He can’t have taken her far.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words. Taking a breath, he looked back at the screen as he tried to distinguish any recognisable features of where she may be.

Faulkner moved his face to rest against Y/N’s hair, smelling the tresses. She tried to pull away only for him to yank her back again.

“Why did you kill them Dean?”

Faulkner let go of Y/N’s hair. Walking to her side, he grabbed her face in a vicious grip. Yanking her to look at him.

“Why? They ruined my life, everything I ever worked hard for. You all did.”

Y/N looked at him in confusion.

“I did nothing to you.”

Y/N’s breath increased at the vicious look he sent her way. Her eyes flickered to the camera, knowing that Faulkner was streaming what was happening to Spencer and his team. She had to find a way to tell them where she was.

“You made them question my authority. My position. My integrity as a member of the board. You ruined my reputation by belittling me in California.”.

“That’s because you know nothing about horror Dean. You think you know everything about it, but you don’t.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why was Y/N taunting him?

“Garcia’s looking to see if there’s any abandoned properties around the area that he could have taken her to.”

Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Emily’s words.

Faulkner reeled back at Y/N’s taunt.

“I know everything there is to know about horror. I’ve seen it all. I’ve lived it. I’ve created it. Ask me anything about it, I know the right answers.”

“But you don’t. You have an idea of horror, your own idea, that is wrong. You believe that women are the reason you lost your job and became the monster that you are. But they’re not. The reason you’re a monster is because of your sick and twisted fantasies. You made those girls feel small and weak, didn’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The team watched in apprehension.

“Garcia, the location, we need it now.”

Rossi looked between the screen and the phone in Derek’s hand.

“I can get the area he’s holding her, but not the specific building. The whole town is basically abandoned. She could be anywhere from a shop to a house.”

“Keep looking.”

Spencer chewed on his lips. He had to think rationally. If the unsub was upset about the changes and losing his job, what could have been the last straw?

“Derek what was the film they replaced Nightmare Before Christmas with at the convention.”

Derek and Spencer shared a look.

“Cabin in the Woods.”

Spencer ran across the rooms to the files at hand.

“In the location that Garcia has tracked her too, there are three cabins, all within a walking distance of the other.”

The team began to rush out the room, transferring the livestream to a tablet so they could monitor Faulkner and Y/N.

“You’re weak Dean. You’re just like all the horror movie villains. Ghostface, pinhead, jigsaw, all of them. You feed of fear and feeling in control. But the only thing you have in common with them is that you’re not going to win.”

Faulkner scream in rage. Pulling Y/N’s head back, he punched her in the jaw. Striding to the camera, he pushed his face to the lens.

“The party’s over!”

Spencer watched in horror as the feed went off.

“Hotch we have to hurry!”

Hotch sped up the car. Quickly arriving to the location, the team split up into pairs, taking a cabin each to inspect. Hotch and Derek, Rossi and JJ, and Spencer and Emily veered off to their targeted locations. Spencer followed Emily, trying to stay calm, as he slowly walked into the cabin to find it empty, when suddenly a gun shot was heard. Looking in the direction, the pair ran to the cabin that Derek and Hotch had been assigned. The rest of the team already there, looking into the cabin in shock.

“No, no, no, no. Y/N.”

Spencer pushed in front of them, tears pooling in his eyes as he a waited to see the horror before him. He looked in disbelief as Y/N stood from her position on the floor, the gun dropping from her hand as they shook. Faulkner laid a few feet away, in a pool of blood, no longer breathing.

Y/N looked towards the team. Raising her shaking hands towards Spencer.

“I didn’t want to kill him but he was going to shoot whoever walked through the door.”

Spencer rushed forward, grabbing her in a bone crushing hug. His hands stroking her hair as he soother her cries. Leading her out of the cabin, he allowed his team to sort out the rest as he continued to calm Y/N down.

The movement of the team were a blur as ambulances and police cars came. Taking them to the hospital as they sat in the waiting room as Y/N was checked over.

Spencer sat in the waiting room, his leg bouncing up and down with nerves.

Derek excused himself from the groups conversation as he went and sat next to Spencer. Clapping him on the back, Derek squeezed Spencer’s shoulder in re-assurance.

“She’s going to be fine pretty boy.”

“Physically, she has a concussion, bruising along her jawline, and needs stitches on her forehead. Mentally, I don’t know how she is going to handle this. When I suggested asking for her help in the case, I didn’t presume the risk of her being hurt. I should have.”

“Spencer, listen to me. We would have done everything to make sure she lived okay. She not only saved herself but she also helped save Yasmine and this team. Any one of us could have been shot if she had not thought fast and got the gun out of his hands. You know, better than anyone, how to help her deal with this.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words, nodding his head in appreciation, as he leaned against his friend in a comforting hug.

“Probably wasn’t the ideal way to introduce your girlfriend to the team though.”

Spencer stuttered at Derek’s teasing.

“We’re profilers Spencer. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been happier these past few months and seeing how persistent you were for us to consult Y/N, it gave us all an idea why. Seeing you together only confirmed our suspicions. So, how long has pretty boy had his pretty girl?”

Spencer chuckled at Derek’s words. Ringing his hands together as he spoke to Derek.

“Tomorrow is actually our six-month anniversary. She was going to be flying back today so we could celebrate; unless I got called on a case.”

“We can still celebrate.”

Spencer looked up as Y/N walked through the waiting room, fresh stitches on her forehead and an ice pack resting in her hands.

“The nurse said that there was no internal damage. That my body will just be sore for a few weeks. My concussion is light, so I am alright to travel home.”

The team gathered around to check on her. But her eyes could not leave Spencer’s as he rose from his seat. Spencer walked forward slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Carefully he cupped her face in his hands, and to the surprise of Y/N and his team, Spencer bowed his head and placed a careful kiss on Y/N’s lips. Slow, protective, and full of love.

Pulling back, Spencer wrapped his arms around her as he looked at the beaming smiles of his teammates. Y/N couldn’t help the blush across her cheeks or the giggle that followed. Soon, everyone was chuckling at the pair.

“I would like to thank you Y/N. From the entire team. Your actions saved a young woman’s life, and what could have been one of our own.”

Y/N smiled in appreciation at Rossi’s words.

“You’re Spencer’s family. I would do it all again if I had to.”

“Statistically speaking, around 2,000 people a day are reported missing in the US. Approximately, 600 of those would be reported or considered kidnappings. It is highly unlikely for you to be put in a situation like that again.”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend.

“I never thought I would say this, but your talk about me being kidnapped again is really attractive.”

The team laughed at the girl’s statement, seeing Spencer become physically embarrassed.

“Just to inform everyone, the jet will be ready to depart in forty-five minutes. As I was informed that today you would have been heading home, Y/N we have sent for your belongings to be collected; you can fly back with us.”

Spencer smiled at Hotch in gratitude, the older man knowing he would have only worried if she had flown home alone.

“Thank you, Mr Hotchner.”

Hotch let out a brief smile.

“Call me Hotch. Your part of Spencer’s life, that means your part of this family.”

BAU JET

It had been an exhausting few days for the team, and it showed, as they all were sporadically asleep throughout the jet. Silence encompassed the steel capsule, with only the sound of sleep filled breaths being heard.

Y/N laid fast asleep, with her head on Spencer’s shoulder, as the boy genius sat up wide awake. Looking down at the woman next to him, all Spencer could imagine was what could have happened if they weren’t quick enough. How many days he would have lost with her. All the things he wanted to tell her.

As though she could sense his deep thoughts, Y/N slowly awoke, rubbing her eyes as a yawn escaped her mouth. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she waited till she was fully conscious before she spoke.

“What time is it Doc?”

Spencer jostled out of his thoughts to check the watch on his wrist.

“It’s 2:36 am. You’ve been asleep for approximately 3 hours and 22 minutes.”

Y/N quickly sat up in her seat, wide awake.

Spencer turned towards her in worry, wondering what had made her so alert.

“What wrong? Are you feeling nauseous? Do you need some painkillers, as your due to have…”

Y/N grabbed Spencer’s face and placed her lips flush against his own. Their mouths moved in unison, as Spencer’s own hands moved to circle around her waist, bringing their bodies as close as they could be in the small space they had. They hadn’t kissed since the hospital, and before then it had been weeks. Spencer never realised until then, how much he truly missed her touch, her taste, her as a whole.

Coming to a point where they both lacked breathe, the pair pulled apart. Their eyes fluttering open as Y/N’s hands caressed Spencer’s face. Her one hand travelled to his hair, feeling the tresses that had grown since she had last seen him. She looked at him in a way no one had before. Spencer shared the same expression.

“Happy six-month anniversary Spencer. I love you.”

Spencer looked at Y/N in disbelief.

“Before you start spouting of facts about transference and how I am probably only saying this because you saved my life, you’re wrong. Because then I would be telling Hotch and Morgan the same thing.”

Spencer couldn’t help the watery smile that graced his face. For the second time in the past day, his eyes filled with tears. But this time, they were good.

“I’ve known I have loved you for a long time. For five months actually. I knew I loved you when we made pizza in your apartment and we ended up burning it, so we ordered one instead.”

Spencer laughed at the memory. It was the first time Spencer had initiated their make out. He had watched her cooking, in his apartment, and he had never found her more attractive than he did seeing her in his home.

“I knew that whilst you were spouting of facts about the invention of the pizza that I loved you and that I could listen to you forever. I love you Spencer.”

Spencer pulled Y/N closer to him as he rested his forehead against her own. The pair basked in each other’s presence.

“Past surveys show that men wait just 88 days to say those three little words to their partner for the first time, and 39 percent say them within the first month. Women, on the other hand, take an average 134 days. You knew after 31 days that you loved me. I knew after our first date that the way I felt when I was with you is a feeling that I could not even describe with my vast vocabulary. I knew after 8 days that the way I felt was stronger than liking you and that was a frightening thought. But its scarier to think what could have happened to you yesterday. That I could have lost you without you ever knowing. I made that mistake before. I will never make it again. I love you too.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile and giggle that overtook her. Spencer, feeling high of the serotonin that was coursing through his body, couldn’t help his laugh either. Soon the pair were a giggling mess, unaware of the team who had all begun to awaken whilst the pair were talking.

The team congregated to the back of the jet, allowing the couple to stay in their own bubble.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him truly happy.”

The group nodded at Emily’s words.

JJ smiled as she watched her best friend rattle of the possible movies that he and his girlfriend could spend their anniversary watching as she recovered. Her smile growing even wider at Y/N’s enthusiasm to watch the film’s in their original language. None of them could miss the look of adoration beaming between the pair.

“Yeah, it really has.”

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. -Lao Tzu

A/N- It isn’t the best but I really enjoyed writing this one.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagines

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quokkacore · 4 years ago

Text

with great power I [lee jeno]

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

pairing: lee jeno x reader

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

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

main masterlist // story masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM]

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

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

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

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

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

[7:52 AM]

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear

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

y/n: also ur literally never late

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

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

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

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

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

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

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

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

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

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

[7:57 AM]

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

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

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

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

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

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

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

“The Bachelor?”

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

“Ah. I see.”

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uh… ran a little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you.

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

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

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like her, Yeeun.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

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

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

“Fuck you, Huang.”

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

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

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

"San Choi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming!” San yelled back.

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

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

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

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

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

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

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

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

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

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

When you talk right to me

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving

You running back to me

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

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

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

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

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

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

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

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

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

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you left your keys."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed.

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

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

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped.

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

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

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

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

“Hand it over, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:36 PM]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, what happened?”

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