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mha-platonic-yanderes · 4 years

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Settling In: Parentals

Inspired by @i-cant-sing and their Yandere Todoroki Clan AU

The room is pink. Well, it’s mostly pink. It’s pink with white furniture and embellishments. The closet doors are white and so is the windowsill. The floor is hardwood brown. But everything else is a bubblegum pink.

You’d prefer another color, one that wasn’t so bright and grating to the eyes. But you don’t say that. You just fiddle with your one dufflebag’s handle. This is all you have left, after bouncing around from group home to group home. A year ago—when your parents died—you had thrice as much. Now this and the backpack for schoolwork is all you have left.

“Do you like it?” The mother of this house and wife to the current number one hero, asks you a question. He’s not here; nobody’s here except you two. The house seems too big for three people, but there are pictures on the wall of others. It doesn’t look lived in; there is no semblance of a family. Though, the pictures on the wall show a six person family. It shows that there are four more people here and you get your own room. In a house with now seven people, you get your own room and you aren’t giving it up.

Despite the pink color and the vast emptiness, you answer honestly, “Yeah, I do.” You do like it, even if it's not for the right reasons

Her hands are on your shoulder. You can feel the increased pressure on one side lift up, almost as if she’d been purposefully holding onto you too tight.

“Good. Now, let’s unpack.” She gracefully takes the bag out of your hand, setting it atop the bed. You sit down alongside it, opening your backpack. A couple of notebooks, pencils, and two textbooks sit inside.

You start to stand, heading to take the materials to the desk they’ve provided. Though, whilst holding a pair of pajamas—slightly too little but in [y/f/c]—she takes the books out of your hand.

“Just relax, [Y/N].” Rei replies, “Let me handle it.”

You sit on the bed twiddling with your blouse’s edge. You wore your best outfit, even though it was just your school uniform, without the frumpy sweater.

The bed is insanely soft. With satin sheets, a thick, fluffy comforter, and a healthy amount of pillows, it's easily the softest place you’ve been.

“I’ll have a driver return your school books back to your former school.” Rei replies, on the other side of the room. You shift to look at her, but she has her back turned to you. “I’ll discuss with my husband what school to place you at.”

“Alright.” You’ve had to transfer schools about three times since last year. Moving again isn’t a hassle anymore. You know not to hope you won’t move again. Though. you know not to get attached to anything in case you have to—in case this doesn’t work out.

“We’ll get you a better education than the one you were definitely receiving.” You can hear the gentle thump of one of your textbooks. She heads back to your duffle bag; it’s now half empty. “My eldest three all went to Somei Private Academy for junior high. Two ended up continuing through highschool as well. My eldest went to Shiketsu and my youngest is in Yuuei now.”

You know those schools. They’re expensive, private academies. You’ve only ever been in public schools. The wealth was obvious when you were picked up in a blackened car with a driver. You just didn’t expect them to spend that money on you, a lowly orphan.

“Or we’ll just hire a set of tutors like we did for our youngest before he went to Yuuei.” She decides what to hang up or fold. You’ll have to go through it all later to find everything. Luckily, you don’t own much—or unluckily, depends on how you look at it. But you don’t dwell on the issue long, responding quickly to the lady, “Alright.”

She smiles at you. It’s sincere, motherly. It’s what your mother would’ve done, before the accident. It’s something you sorely missed since then.

“You’re extremely agreeable, aren’t you?” She finishes out the bag, pressing it into the top of your closet. Your backpack gets sat beside the desk. This room is large and your things are set in its appropriate places across from it.

“I guess.”

“That’s a good thing, darling.” She goes to mess with your hair, “Now, for dinner tonight, let's change you into something a bit nicer, yes?”

You pause, looking at your toes in their pristine white socks. You can see her legs as well, considering how close she is to you, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

“That’s fine. We’ll just have to go shopping for some new things.” Rei replies, taking her other hand to your chin, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “Enji and I know what we are getting ourselves into, buying you a whole new wardrobe will be nothing.”

She takes her hands from your head and into your hands, helping you up.

“Where are we going?” She leads you back from your room to the rest of the house.

“Shopping, darling.” Rei replies, “We have five hours to do so, before I must start dinner, that is. Is there anything you want?”

“No, not really.” She’s already planning to drop a substantial amount of money on you and she’s already being incredibly maternal. You aren’t going to stretch that patience thin and have her snap already. You aren’t going to ruin this for yourself.

She smiles at you, “I’ll figure out what you like soon enough.”

===

The shopping mall standing in front of you was not where you usually would’ve gone. A basic department store, maybe a strip mall if you’re lucky would be where you usually shopped. This place however, is at least four stories high standing stark white and black against the almost colorless blue-grey sky. Though, you don’t get to admire it long. Rei quickly pulls you out of the cold outdoors and into the perfectly heated building.

“Now, I say we head to clothing stores first and then to more home goods type stores, so we don’t have to pack the heavy stuff around. Though, if we get too much to carry, we can send it back to the car and then continue shopping.” Rei replies, “Is that alright?”

You nod, still reluctantly going along this whole situation. The car is actually a limo and you have your own room in a massive estate. You have an impossibly nice and maternal caretaker who’s insanely rich. This is your “Annie” moment; this is your fairytale scenario. The shoe has to drop at some point. You aren’t going to be blindsided when it does.

“Good.” She locks arms with you, holding you close. It’s weird, but not entirely uncomfortable. You want to trust her. Your sense of judgement is clouded, knowing that she can’t really be this nice, but you want her to be like this

She leads you into a clothing store, taking you to the brightly colored section. Rei silently holds a peach colored sweater up to you. She grabs an orange skirt, looking at them both together.

“What do you think of this?” She asks, holding them up together. The sweater is thick,

assumedly warm. The skirt however, isn’t,. You tell her that.

“That’s what some white stockings are for [y/n].” She laughs lightly, “and please call me Rei. You don’t have to be so formal.”

“Alright... Rei.” Acclimating to her is easy. At the moment, you don’t care what the rest of her family is like, she’s nice and maternal and everything you miss from your own mother.

She grabs multiple sweater and skirt combinations, not grabbing a single pair of pants for you. This store doesn’t sell tee shirts or blouses, sticking to a younger, but put together catalog. You briefly entertain the idea of them being traditionalists, but you don’t mind that. You’ve lived in worse houses than one with conservative ideals.

And besides, the outfits are cute. You hope you can keep them if everything goes south.

“Put these on.” She hands you the clothing, “and I want to see every outfit you try on. I want to see if it looks good.”

The fitting rooms are nicer than any you’ve ever been to. When checking the price of the items she’s handed to you, you can see why. The least expensive thing is a 10,000 yen skirt. It’s plain blue, just like the 1,500 yen one you have on now. It's obviously of higher quality, but guilt pangs in your chest at the thought of her spending so much money on you. This is at least a dozen items in here.

You slip it on, alongside the white sweater, filled with gold stars. You look at yourself in the mirror, before heading out the door. Rei sits in a chair, looking at you.

“You look absolutely adorable.” Rei comments, “We’re keeping it.”

She doesn’t let you put your input in. But she’s paying for it, so you don’t complain.

Five more times, you come out in sweater and skirt combinations. She has nothing but praise for each outfit. It’s refreshing. Your last home was less than pleasant.

Rei leaves you to change back into your uniform. All six outfits are bought and placed into two bags, both on her arm away from you. She wraps her other arm into the crook of your arm.

“Onto the next store we go.”

As you all head to a different floor of the mall, you voice concerns you originally had back in the dressing room, “You know… you don’t have to spend so much money on me.” You tell her, then backtrack, “Not that I’m not grateful! I am really! It’s just that I don’t need stuff this fancy, you know?”

“[Y/N], I am your mother now. It’s my duty to get you clothes and stuff.” She says it with a certainty that is oddly comforting. Everything about her is that way, from her soft, smooth skin to her warm, grey eyes to her bright, white smile. She’s intensely maternal, something that you didn’t realize you wanted anymore, until today, “and we must keep you up to the Todoroki standard. After all, you’re going to be one of us for now on.”

Being one of them. You don’t know of any Todorokis; you’ve never been a huge fan of heroes like some of your peers. But belonging, that’s something you’ve craved since it was ripped away from you. A family—that’s what you’ve always wanted.

“All right.”

“Chin up, shoulders back.” She tells you, “You’re new life begins tonight.”

===

Rei never let you carry a single bag throughout your trip. She also wouldn’t let you see any of the receipts or let you have a final word on anything you got. But, you got all nice things—all things you like. So, you don’t mind.

“Change into the white dress with the red and pink roses.” She instructs, “And redo your hair. First impressions are important, after all.”

You haven’t met her husband, nor any of her children. But, as the pictures on the wall show, her husband is Endeavor, the number one hero. Usually you’d meet the person fostering you beforehand, but with his affluence, there needed to be no meetings beforehand.

Following her instructions, you rifle through the bags, finding the dress she wanted you to wear. Slipping out of your old clothes and into the cold, expensive dress is a quick process. Doing your hair to a standard that would make her proud, is not. Eventually you get it right.

Unlike earlier, you take the time to unbag your stuff. You mimic what Rei did in your closet. Shirts, sweaters and dresses are hung up. Skirts, leggings, and stockings are folded in the dresser. The shoes are placed on the inside of your closet. The few decorations you got are placed so that they don’t move what Rei and her husband already got you. She’s extremely peculiar about order. You won’t break that order.

“[Y/N].” She knocks on the door that doesn’t lock, “What’s taking you so long. Do you need help?”

You open the door for her, “I was just putting everything away, Rei.”

She comes in, looking at the room. She pulls the draws out and reopens the closet door, looking inside them. It’s an inspection, to see if everything is up to code.

Rei pinches your cheek, “ It’s perfect, exactly how I imagined it.”

Perfect. She’s praising your work. The word warms your heart, bringing a smile to your face. You haven’t gotten enough praise in your life, clearly.

“Thank you.”

“Now come on.” She tugs at your wrist, “Enji will be here any moment and I need help plating the table. Usually Fuyumi would do it, but you’ll meet my other children at a later date. Tonight is just about you, me, and Enji.”

“Alright.” Relief settles from your scrunched up soldiers. You only have to meet one new person, not five like you assumed. One person is better than five people—even if he is the #1 Hero.

You’re led back through the sitting room and into the dining room. It’s nice, well lit. It’s low to the ground and cushioned. You’ve expected this from this house. Every room besides your own is extremely traditional. You expected the whole house to be like this, once you walked through the doors.

“The plates and cups are in the left cabinet, do be careful with them.” Rei points to a side room, at the back of the dining room, “I’ll bring in the cutlery. Enji should be here soon.”

As if on cue, you hear the front door being opened. A low voice calls out, “Rei, darling? [Y/N]?”

You freeze, plates and cups in hand. Something about the number one hero calling out of your name unsettles you. Though, somehow immediately aware of your apprehension, Rei places a cold hand against your back. You can feel it through the dress, which isn’t surprising, considering how thin it is.

“We’re in the dining room, honey.” Rei takes the plates and cups from your hands, placing them down and simultaneously leading you to your seat. You sit, legs together and bent to the side. You sit currently in the seat to the left of the table’s end.

The number one hero—Rei’s husband—kisses her cheek. He towers over her. She was waiting for him at the entrance. You try not to make any noise; you try not to interrupt them.

She heads to the seat across from you, leaving Endeavor to sit at the head of the table. You aren’t surprised; this family gives of very traditional vibes. He radiates heat to your right, still aflame, showing off his powerful quirk.

The food is already on the table. It’s more than enough for the three people here, possibly more than enough for the six people in the photos—plus yourself. You make your own plate, only getting what you know you’ll eat. You don’t want to take too much, you don’t want to be greedy.

“Make sure you actually get full, [Y/N].” Rei smiles at you. It’s warm and soft.

“I am, Miss.” You can feel Endeavor staring at you, but you don’t look at him. You shift your head down, looking at the plate in front of you. You don’t grab more; you don’t want to ruin their hospitality with your selfishness.

Rei and Endeavor talk to themselves, mostly about work. They occasionally talk about three other people—Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. There are four children in the photos on the wall; it’s a family of six. Though, you don’t ask about the unnamed child, it isn’t your place to do so.

You finish your food fairly quickly, but so do the other two. You look up at Endeavor for the first time tonight, asking, “Can I be excused, sir.”

“No.” He replies, “We have things to discuss.”

“Oh… alright.” You fiddle with the hem of your dress underneath the table, “What do you want to discuss, sir?”

“I’ll take the dirty dishes and excess food.” Rei smiles at you, “You’ll be fine, [Y/N]. Pass me your plate.”

Endeavor waits for Rei to leave to start talking. You are acutely aware of how hot it is now, without Rei’s cooling, calming effect.

“How was your day today?” He starts the conversation off decently well. You look him in the eye, “Good.” You were taught manners growing up; you know how to hold a conversation, no matter how intimidating the person you’re talking to is.

“That is a pretty dress on you, [Y/N].”

“Thank you.”

“Now then. While you are here, there shall be rules you will follow. Rei and I have devised a fair list and she’ll go over them with you extensively in the morning.” He tells you, “Though, the ones concerning you tonight are: no technology post-dinner and that you shall be in bed by ten o’clock. Rei shall wake you up at seven am tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Those aren’t too harsh rules; other homes have had worst lists. Though, you won’t make a final decision on that until tomorrow. You tentatively ask another question, “Uhhh, sir. Rei mentioned other children. If you don’t mind me asking, where are they?”

“Shoto goes to U.A. They have dorms now and are forced to stay there. Fuyumi and Natsuo have since moved out, but visit occasionally. You’ll meet them when it is appropriate.” Endeavor tells you, “And [Y/N], call me Enji. You are now dismissed.”

“Alright, Enji.” As you stand to leave, you use his name, “Thank you.”

#yandere todoroki clan #yandere todoroki family #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere #mha #bnha #platonic yandere #yandere enji todoroki #yandere rei todoroki #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #canon? what canon?#who was going to tell me that my line breaks dont transfer over to tumblr like they do to ao3

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lis-likes-fics · 4 years

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Concussed

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Word Count: 8,820 words smh jfc Warnings: Car crash, many injuries, idk Author’s Note: Okay... maybe I got a little carried away. I did tell you guys I was going to end up writing a couple about him. I’m going through my phase, lemme alone. There will be a part two for certain reasons.

~~~~~

The sound of Chief Swan’s car parking in his driveway next door didn’t phase Y/N. It was when she heard the people talking where she decided to go to her window and see what was going on. She opened the window and stuck her head out of it in curiosity. She saw Charlie and Billy, a very familiar face, play fighting in Charlie’s driveway next to the red pickup that had been parked there for a few days.

She looked over and saw Jacob, another familiar face because of his relation to Billy, and a girl. Y/N smiled when she realized just who the girl was. She waved out of her window like a child, “Hey, Bella!”

The group looked over and saw her peering down at them with the smile plastered on her face. Billy and Jacob smiled and waved, Charlie gave a small wave of her own. “Hey, Chief, Billy, Jake.”

“Hello, Y/N. How are you?” Billy asked with a smile.

“Same ole, you know me,” she responded.

A smile slowly spread across Bella’s face as the recognition settled in, “Y/N, it’s been forever, how are you?”

She smiled, “Hey, Bells. I’m good. It’s great to see you again.”

Y/N and Bella used to be great friends. She lived in Forks next to Charlie Swan her whole life. Her parents died in a car crash when she was very young and she was left with her grandfather, who died when she was sixteen. She began living on her own in the same house, too sentimental to move away. She had Charlie for adult supervision when she needed it, but she was pretty much independent otherwise.

Y/N, Bella, and Jacob used to play together all the time when she lived here with her. When she moved away, it was just her and Jacob. They hung around a little bit afterwards, but lost touch when they got into junior high. Y/N was currently a senior while Bella was a junior. She was a year older than her, which made her two years older than Jacob - another reason they lost touch.

Y/N stuck her head back in her window and made her way down the stairs and out of the house so she could get a better look at the group. She managed to get a short hug from Bella before they started talking again.

Billy smiled, “And there’s the trio. I miss the days you were just little kids playing in the mud.” Charlie nodded in his silent reminiscing.

Y/N smiled and nudged Bella a little, “Are you still clumsy?”

She chuckled lightly, “Are you?”

She smiled, “Fair enough. One reason we were such good friends-”

“You were both accident prone,” Jacob finished with a laugh.

“Still are. You had to make sure we didn’t get ourselves killed,” Y/N joked. He nodded as he sighed, a smile on his face as he remembered the old days where you were just little kids.

Charlie spoke, patting the truck, “So what do you think of your homecoming gift?”

Bella’s eyes widened in wonder and she looked from the truck to the people standing around her, “No way. The truck is for me?”

Charlie nodded, “Just bought it off Billy here.”

Jacob smiled, “I rebuilt the engine and-”

“It’s perfect!” She beamed, rushing to the truck with Jacob in tow. Y/N stuck by the window with a smile as she watched them. Bella got in and was given an overview by the long-haired boy while she rolled down the window for Y/N.

She turned to Jacob, “Maybe I can give you a ride to school.”

He shook his head regrettably, “I go to school on the reservation.”

Y/N spoke, “Maybe you can give me a ride. Jacob’s fixing my car right now and I’ve been snatching rides from a couple friends from school.”

She smiled, “Yeah, that’d be fine. It’ll be nice knowing at least one person there.”

She nodded, “Everyone’s super nice, for the most part. You should make friends quickly.”

Over the next couple of weeks, Bella, like everyone, was instantly interested in the Cullens. They were always the attention grabbers of the school, but no one hung out with them or thought well of them because they never hung out with anyone other than themselves. They were a strange group and they got a lot of unnecessary thoughts and names because of it. Y/N didn’t mind them. They were interesting and that was that.

Unlike the Cullens, especially Edward, he was interested in Bella as well. It took awhile for that to come to light, he’d run off after her first day at school. She’d told Y/N all about it on the way back home after school and, while it was strange, it wasn’t too strange for the Cullens. After some quick reassurance, they were fine.

When Edward returned, so did Bella and Y/N’s chat about him. She was sitting in her car, the window rolled down on the driver’s side so she could chat with Bella while she stood outside of the car. “This homework is ridiculous. You’re lucky you have another year before you have to do this,” Y/N complained as she stared at the sheet.

Bella wasn’t paying much attention, her gaze shifting from her own homework to Edward staring at her from across the parking lot. Y/N sighed and went back to her work before hearing a strange screeching sound coming from the end of the lot.

She looked up and saw a van skidding on the ice, careening out of control, headed directly for them. Y/N moved quickly to attempt getting Bella in the truck before the van crashed. She reached over and got the door opened before Bella noticed the truck, tripping on the ice under her feet and causing her to fall back against the door.

The door slammed hard back into Y/N’s skull and she moved to grab her head, her eyes hurting as she squeezed them shut. When the truck rocked back and forth slightly, she opened her eyes again, against the strain, and struggled to look out of the window to see Bella unharmed on the other side.

Her head was hurting too much for her to question how Bella got out of that without a scratch. She sighed and got back to her side, letting out a sigh as her dizziness crashed into her like the door did to her skull. Her vision strained as it sunk in and out.

Her headache began to sink in after her ears started ringing. Bella, getting over her shock, stood and turned to the window to see if you were okay. “Y/N?” She asked, her eyes wide and concern slipping into her voice. Her voice sounded muffled and distant, she could barely make out what Bella was saying.

She looked at Bella with unfocused eyes, “I’m fine.” Her words were slurred, barely hearing her own words over the ringing in her ears. People moved to look when they realized she was in the truck as well.

Students started swarming over to her side, looking in through the open window. They spoke in a choir of mumbles and muffled questions. Someone pushed his way through the group to look at her. “She needs to go to the hospital,” Y/N didn’t pick up a single word of that, but Bella did.

The last thing she saw before slipping into her first round through consciousness and unconsciousness was someone quickly rushing to get both Bella and Y/N to the hospital.

Y/N sat in the room surrounded by white, her feet hanging off the edge of the hospital bed as she kicked them in front of her. She had her hands steadied on the bed to keep her from falling over from the slight dizziness. The ringing had gone down, but it was still there in the background. Her headache was the only thing that had decided to stick around the way it had before.

She was just trying to convince everyone that she was fine. Just like Bella. She looked across the room at Bella, who was talking with her worried father about the accident. She looked away instead of trying to get her eyes to completely focus, the strain hurt.

When the doors opened, a stunningly handsome doctor came through them with a charming smile. He had icy blond hair, pale, ivory skin, and a smile that could kill. His face is kind, but pale, tired - that didn’t make him any less beautiful. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Y/N was sure she was shot with Cupid’s arrow.

He went straight to Bella first, “I heard the Chief's daughter was in.”

Charlie nodded, “Good. Dr. Cullen.”

Dr. Cullen, the head of the Cullen Family. Well, no wonder he was so beautiful. This was Carlisle Cullen.

He turned to the E.R. doctor, “I’ve got this one, Jackie.” She handed him the chart and left. He reviewed Bella’s chart, then felt the back of her head, “You have a nice knot growing back there, but your x-rays show no indication of concussion.”

Tyler Crowley, who Y/N assumed was the one who hit the truck, spoke, “I’m so sorry, Bella. I’m really-”

He was cut off by Charlie pulling the curtain between them. Yep, he was definitely the one who hit the truck. Y/N watched the interaction with a slightly tilted her. She was focusing in and out, not caring too much about anyone but Dr. Handsome.

Bella muttered, “It would have been a lot worse if Edward hadn’t knocked me out of the way.”

Charlie furrowed his brow, “Edward? Your boy?”

Dr. Cullen looked up before looking back down at the chart. Bella continued, a hidden goal in her words now, “It was amazing he got to me so fast. He was nowhere near me.”

He gave her a smile, “As long as you’re safe.”

Bella sighed and glanced as Y/N, who was visibly spacing in and out. She was still trying to get over her headache, but it was a little hard when it rattled her brain like it did. She was just waiting for a doctor to get to her like they said they would.

Carlisle followed Bella’s gaze to Y/N. At first, it was just a glance before he looked back again with a slight intrigue. He quickly finished up with Bella before turning back to Y/N, walking over to her with a smile on his face. She gave a seemingly distracted smile back and he picked up her chart from beside her, looking over it closely.

“What’s your name?” He asked her, looking back up with that same smile. Only this time, she got a good look at his eyes. They were a magnificent honey gold that would have made her weak at the knees, had she been standing.

Instead, it was substituted by a fluttering in her stomach. But who was she kidding, he was probably already married. He had kids, for God’s sake, adopted or not. She glanced down at his hand while he stared at her chart and felt a little bit of unnecessary hope when she saw no ring.

It didn’t matter, though. He was way out of her league.

She struggled to find her voice for a moment, trying to recall the question before answering in a slurred tone, despite her best efforts to make it clear, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N, “ he said, as if tasting her name. He nodded slightly, “How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, “I’m okay.”

Dr. Cullen raised a blond brow very slightly before asking, "Any ringing in the ears? Headache? Dizziness?"

"Maybe a little,” she sighed, the slur becoming painfully obvious. He grabbed a small flashlight from his pocket and checked her eyes, running the rest of his tests. He looked back at the chart and sighed, “You've got a minor concussion."

“Course, I do,” she sighed, laughing weakly, “Brilliant.”

He gave her a sympathizing look and smile, speaking in that calm voice of his, “I want you to try to avoid unnecessary movement of your head and neck as much as possible. Limit your exposure to bright lights and loud sounds. Stay hydrated and get lots of rest. That said...you should be staying home for a couple of days before trying to get back to school."

‘Whatever you want, Doctor,’ was what her mind said before she quickly revised her sentence before she said it impulsively, “Alright. Thanks, Doctor.”

He nodded, “You’re very welcome.”

Dr. Cullen finished up with her before helping her off the bed, his icy cold hand placed on her arm so she didn’t trip and fall, which she was bound to do otherwise. Before they left the hospital, she was scheduled for another check up in two days.

She was rather giddy to know that she’d be seeing the blond beauty again in two days. She could hardly wait. She was driven home by Bella afterwards. She told her, “Hey, really sorry about the concussion. It must hurt.”

Y/N shook her head as she lied, “No, not at all.” She would rather not have people worrying over her. She was a lot like Bella in that area. The “suffer in silence” type.

She looked in her driveway and chuckled humorlessly at her car parked in the driveway. She nodded and walked up to the door. She moved the mailbox next to her door to reveal the small “hole” behind it where the car keys were hidden with a note.

When her grandfather was alive, he would often forget where the keys were so she had to put a spare in that space. She might as well use it since it’s there. The note read, “Finished the car. Good as new. You weren’t here so I dropped it off. -Jake”

She grabbed the keys and the note and went inside the house, closing the door behind her. She immediately got a glass of water and took a nap. She was tired.

But the nap didn’t stop her from thinking about the handsome doctor. If anything, it encouraged her as her mind wandered with fantasies of her and the gorgeous man.

Y/N got in her car on the day of her appointment. She was slightly giddy and she wanted to be annoyed with herself - she was acting like a child going to see her crush. She had to continuously remind herself, ‘Dr. Carlisle Cullen is way out of your league. Ring or not, there was no way he would be interested in you. Wake up.’

The reminders deterred her mood a little bit, but not enough to get her to calm down. She pulled out of the driveway and headed to the Forks General Hospital. After waiting for the nurse to show her to the room she’d be getting her checkup in.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the nurse called, looking around the room that sat four other people. She looked up, a tight smile on her face, “Right here.”

She gave a soft smile and said, “The doctor will see you now.”

Y/N stood and followed the nurse down the hall. She led her to a room where there was a doctor waiting-- not the doctor she was expecting. The doctor smiled at her as she motioned for Y/N to sit down in front of her. Y/N obeyed, her heart sinking in her chest a little bit.

‘He’s probably not here…’

“How are you,” she asked. Y/N gave a tight smile and shrugged, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Dr. Lacey looked at the clipboard, “It says here you got a minor concussion a couple days ago?”

Y/N nodded, “Uh, yes. Dr. Cullen assessed me.”

“Ah, yes,” the doctor said, as if fantasizing now. She shook her head and sighed, “So you're coming in for a checkup?”

Y/N nodded. The doctor nodded back and went through the checkup to make sure everything was in order. She took a little longer than Dr. Cullen had, he was efficient and certain of every move he made.

Y/N stopped and sighed to try and rid her thoughts of the golden eyed doctor. She didn’t need to be thinking about him, it would turn into obsession quickly if she continued to wonder about the doctor.

“Alright, you look alright. Be sure to take it easy, if you must go to school, take it easy,” Dr. Lacey broke her from her thoughts.

Y/N responded with a sigh, “I need to get back to school. But I will take it easy.”

“Alright, then. Drink plenty of fluids and be careful.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

After the checkup, Y/N left the room. Her hands gripped her bag as she walked down the hall. She looked up and saw none other than Dr. Carlisle Cullen walking down the hall her way.

He gave a warm smile, “Hello, Y/N. How is your head?”

She smiled back at him, “It’s better. I just came up for my check up. I...expected to see you...” She very slightly furrowed her brow, looking into his eyes. They weren’t the same honey gold eyes they were, they were darker, more brown than they were before.

He nodded, looking down at the chart in his hand briefly before looking back at her, “Something came up and I wasn’t able to take your case.”

She nodded, “Oh, okay.” He motioned to his clipboard and said, “I’ve got to go. Have a nice day, Y/N.”

She smiled at him again, waving, “Bye, Dr. Cullen.” He nodded with a smile and left. She sighed, turned around, and left.

‘So much for ‘not here’,’ she thought before walking off.

It had been a while since she’d seen Carlisle. She hoped the distance and time would help stop her little fantasies, but it only made them worse. Every day and every night, she found herself thinking of Carlisle Cullen. It was driving her crazy.

She could barely focus on the work in front of her as she waited for her next class to start in the parking lot next to her car. When the bell rang, she sighed and threw her bag over her shoulder, beginning to turn to head back into the school. She paused when she saw Bella walking away and towards the forest that bordered the school.

She shook her head, “Where is she going?” She began to follow her, tell her that class was the other way. As Y/N headed over, she saw Edward headed after Bella. She knew she should have turned the other way and given them their privacy but, if they were missing a class period to do something, it would have been good.

And she was never one to miss out on eavesdropping.

She waited after most of the crowd had cleared before headed into the edge of the forest, walking a little ways longer before she finally saw the pair in the distance talking. She could make out some of what Bella was saying, facing away from Edward as he stood rather strangely behind her.

“...skin is pale-white, ice-cold. Your eyes change color. And sometimes you speak like... you're from a different time,” Bella said, slightly shaken, but not scared. She turned to face Edward now and Y/N furrowed a brow. Her mind wandered back to Carlisle, how his eyes went from gold to dark brown (almost black), how his skin is also pale and cold. She shook her head and turned back to them.

Bella continued, “You never eat food, or drink, or come out in the sunlight. And you said no to the beach trip only after you heard where it was. Because of the treaty.”

‘What treaty?’ she thought. She wasn’t at the beach trip, she turned it down to do homework since she was behind. Before she could think on, Bella spoke again, “How old are you?”

Edward hesitated before speaking, something in his voice that somehow made Y/N cautious and alert, goosebumps rising on her skin from the sudden awareness of all of her escape routes. “Seventeen,” he said.”

Bella continued, “How long have you been 17?”

“A while.”

‘Is she calling him a…’ Y/N couldn’t bring herself to even think of the word. That was absurd! Vampires didn’t exist…

“I know what you are,” Bella said to him, Y/N was barely able to understand but it was audible enough for her to make out.

Edward spoke, his voice firm, edging on chilling, “Say it… Out loud… Say it.”

His tone and his look made Y/N feel a little more frightened than she was before and it was ridiculous. She shouldn’t be scared, he wasn’t a vampire. Was he?

Bella hesitated before finally admitting, “Vampire.”

Edward didn’t deny it and that’s what began to concern Y/N and pierce through her unbelieving thoughts, “Are you afraid?”

She shook her head, “No.”

‘Is Edward…’

His tone was angry now, it only added to Y/N’s fear, “Then ask me the most basic question: what do we eat?”

“You won’t hurt me,” Bella said instead of answering.

The fear that had now stricken Y/N to the core was what completely convinced her that this wasn’t just some weird, strange game the two had going on. Edward was a creature that was believed to just be a myth, this thing that hunted humans for their blood. For food.

Y/N turned around, leaving the forest as quickly as possible before she was found. She didn’t know what to do, so she raced to the parking lot, got in her car, and went home. She could worry about her absence in the rest of her classes later. Right now, she had to make sense of things.

If Edward was a vampire, what does that mean for the rest of his family? Were they all vampires? Was Carlisle…

She didn’t want to think about it. This was absurd, she was crazy. Any moment now, she would wake up from this stupid, sick dream.

No one was a vampire.

But when she didn’t wake up, she was truly surprised and shocked. She got inside as quick as possible and paced around her house anxiously. How long had Bella known? How was she not scared, at least even a little bit? If Edward was a vampire, he had to be dangerous right? Was she safe?

Y/N downed a glass of water to try and calm herself. She needed to calm herself so she could think rationally. After a while, she decided she needed a nap. Maybe a nap would make everything make sense. Or at least calm her enough so she could think straight.

A knock on her door woke Y/N up. She looked at her clock, realizing the time. School had gotten out by now, that could be Bella. She got up and walked cautiously to the door. When she saw Edward on the other side through the peephole, her breath caught in her throat as she stilled.

“Y/N,” he called on the other side. She let out a silent breath, tensed up from her unexpected and potentially dangerous visitor. He spoke again, “I know you're in there. Just let me in, I won't hurt you.”

She thought about it quickly before deciding to just open the door. Her trembling hand landed on the knob and she let out another silent breath before pulling the door opened. She ran a hand through her hand and asked nervously, “Are you all…?”

He sighed, “Can I come in?”

She bit down on her lip and stepped aside, allowing him to step into her home. She closed the door behind him when he was inside and then turned back to him. He gestured for her to sit down and she took the opportunity, looking back up at him anxiously.

“Yes, we're all vampires. Me and my family,” Edward nodded, answering her question.

She thought to herself, ‘Did he know I was there?’

As if he knew what she was thinking, he spoke, “Yes, I knew.”

‘How did you-’

“I can hear what you’re thinking,” he answered her thought once again, “Some of my kind have gifts, I can read minds.”

“Then...why did you let me hear?” She asked. If he knew she was there, He could have easily stopped the conversation until she left, or told her to leave himself.

He shrugged, “I had to break the news to you somehow. The opportunity was right there, so I took it.”

“But why?” She asked him, confusion written in her tone. He sighed and stopped to think for a moment before admitting, “It’s complicated… How is your head?”

Y/N brought her hand up to touch her head as she answered, “Better…” The topic of her head made her think about Carlisle again. Her mind wandered as Carlisle’s face appeared in her thoughts. Only, instead of the golden eyes she remembered seeing that first day, she was met with blood red eyes that pierced into her soul.

Edward shook his head, “Carlisle's no monster. He's anything but. You can trust me on that. He’s the reason for our current lifestyle choice.”

The fear in Y/N’s eyes returned very slightly as she thought about that answer before Edward caught himself, “We consider ourselves vegetarians. We don’t feed on humans, we feed on animals instead. It’s why our eyes aren’t red.”

That calmed her a little more and she turned to play with her hands. She was clearly still shaken and Edward caught onto that. He spoke through the silence that began to settle, “I should be going…”

He stood and turned to the door. He placed his hand on the door knob before turning back to her, “Y/N… please know that we aren’t going to hurt you.”

She considered her words before allowing them to make sense in her head. If they were going to hurt her, they would have done it already. She nodded, “Okay.” He nodded to her, before finally turning and leaving.

She thought about her visit from Edward a lot after that-- not nearly enough to be more than she thought about Carlisle, but it was a close second. His words calmed her more, they seemed sincere enough for her to be able to believe. But she was still shaken and working on the believing part.

She still went to school. She decided her fear shouldn’t be enough to put her further behind than she already was by missing just two days of school before and then half a day after the big reveal. She was wary of the Cullens, but she wasn’t scared of them. If she was, it wasn’t as much as when she first learned of their secret.

Their eyes seemed to watch her sometimes, as if they were trying to see every move she made, waiting for a slipup. She assumed it was because she knew their secret. She wouldn’t tell anyone, she wouldn’t risk anything by telling someone. Besides, people would think she was crazy if they did.

Y/N assumed Edward had told his siblings this because they stopped watching her so closely after a while.

Her schedule consisted of school and home. She didn’t have reason to be any other place, so she stayed inside. There was apparently some wild animal attacking people in Forks. Now that she knew about vampires, she had her suspicions. After Edward’s admittance of their diet, she had reason to believe and trust that it wasn’t them. So she had to be careful.

She was doing her homework again one afternoon. She saw that there was going to be a thunderstorm sometime later on, so she moved her work outside to get some air before that happened. She didn’t like being outside during any storm, rain or not.

The door opened at Bella’s house and she turned her head to see who it was. She saw Bella and gave a wave, “Hey, Bells.”

“Uh- Hey, Y/N,” she responded, giving a wave of her own.

Suddenly, Edward stepped in view and she looked up at him. She’d gotten quite used to him, but she still wasn’t that used to him. “Hello, Y/N. How are you?” He asked her with a soft smile. He was still trying to ease her into this. He didn’t want to spook her.

She had been spooked enough when she found out.

“I'm fine... Thanks,” she cleared her throat.

Edward thought for a moment before speaking, “Bella and I are going to play baseball with my family. You're more than welcome to come, if you would like.”

She shook her head, “No, I'm okay. I wouldn't want to intrude, I’m not a big sports person anyway... You have fun, though.” She gave a tight smile.

He nodded, “Alright. Good night.”

“Good night,” she said after him as he walked away with Bella. They got in her car and drove away. Y/N sighed and stood, walking back into her house to make whatever she had in her fridge for dinner.

Y/N looked out of her window from her room when she heard a car drive up to Bella’s driveway. She was probably just getting back home. It was already dark outside, it would make sense. When Bella slammed the door, Y/N opened her window and looked out. She seemed angry.

“Bella, is everything alright?” She asked, glancing at Edward behind her.

She looked up at Y/N. She nodded, Y/N could tell through the darkness of the night because of Bella’s pale skin-- although not as pale as Edward’s. “Yeah, just... We're fine. Stay inside.”

Y/N trailed off, “Okay…” She glanced at Edward through the dark. Edward’s pale white skin allowed her to makeout the look on his face. There was a warning in his features, not a warning against him, though.

She retreated from her window, closing it shut and returning to what she was doing. A few minutes later, she heard the door to their house slam as Bella drove away quickly from the house. Edward wasn’t with her. Charlie was standing in the light of the porch, watching her leave with a seemingly pained expression.

Y/N stood at her window, looking as best she could without opening it. She was confused, why did Charlie look like that? She sighed, it wasn’t her problem, she shouldn’t be so concerned about it.

She shook her head, retreating from her window once again and deciding to go to bed. Everything was sure to blow over in the morning.

A strange crash was heard downstairs as Y/N woke up suddenly from her sleep. She thought about what to do, there was an intruder in the house. She looked around her room and grabbed her baseball bat. Her grandfather had made a bat for her when she was younger and it was one of the really sentimental things she kept around, even if she didn’t play.

She carefully locked her bedroom door and went into her closet to hide, clutching the bat in her hands tight. After a moment, her door knob jiggled furiously. She pushed her hand against her mouth to keep her quiet. She was terrified at this point.

When the jiggling stopped, she removed her hand slowly. Then the door was kicked down and off of its hinges, making her jump as she clamped her hand back over her mouth and stopped breathing to stay quiet.

She couldn’t see anything, she didn’t take any chances with leaving the door opened just a crack. She listened closely and allowed herself to breathe as silently as humanly possibly.

Soft footsteps were heard on the other side of the door. With how soft they were, this had to be a woman. Why would there be a woman inside of her house trying to get to her?

The footsteps stopped. Y/N stilled and held her breath again so she could hear anything that happened. When the footsteps continued, they seemed to stalk closer to the door and Y/N’s heart only continued to pound in her chest. It was pounding so fast and so loud that she could feel and hear it in her chest. She was sure it would stop soon.

There was more silence.

Y/N let out a yelp as the door opened violently and revealed a woman with fiery red hair. Her eyes were wild and sadistic as she smirked maliciously at her. “Hello, there,” she said.

The woman grabbed Y/N by her throat, pulling her back to her chest as her hand moved to cover her mouth. Her other hand came to pinch her nose, keeping her from breathing as she slowly and painfully stopped the air flow from reaching her brain and lungs.

Y/N struggled against the woman’s hold, trying to scream and yell to try and get the attention of the chief next door, who’s probably already asleep. Y/N’s struggling slowed as she grew weaker. She started seeing black spots in her vision as if faded in and out with each failed attempt to breathe.

Soon, she couldn’t fight anymore as her body went limp and she went unconscious. The woman let go of her, dropping her to the floor. Her goal wasn’t to kill her… yet.

Rosalie and Esme were sent to Bella’s place to guard Charlie and Y/N. Rosalie was confused as to why she needed protecting. They didn’t associate with her, the tracker, James, would have no reason to try and hurt her.

As they came up on the house, Esme checked quickly for Charlie to make sure he was safe. When she saw Charlie sitting in his house, she nodded to herself. Charlie was safe.

Rosalie took Y/N’s, looking inside the house. She stopped when she saw the door slightly opened. She walked up to the door, pushing it open as it squealed against the motion. She stepped inside and saw the broken vase on the floor behind the door.

Whoever opened the door before must have knocked the vase over by opening the door too quickly. She looked up the stairs, rushing to the top quickly and seeing the door on the floor. It had been kicked down. She searched the house quickly, listening closely for a heartbeat. She found nothing but an empty house.

She rushed back to Esme, “We have a problem. The girl isn’t here. Someone broke in.”

Esme’s eyes widened slightly and she grabbed her phone, quickly calling Carlisle to inform him of the news. When the phone picked up, she spoke quickly, “Y/N’s gone. She’s been taken.”

There was silence on the other end before Carlisle spoke, his voice was still calm, but it was lower in tone and held a slight edge to it that only a vampire could pick up, “What?”

Rosalie spoke, knowing Carlisle would be able to hear her, “The front door was opened and her bedroom door was kicked down. She’s nowhere.”

Carlisle’s grip on the phone tightened, but he eased it before he could break the phone. There were tiny dents where his fingers had squished the phone. He spoke in a disturbingly calm voice, “Watch Charlie. I’ll handle Y/N.”

He hung up the phone and returned his grip to the steering wheel. Edward and Emmett had heard the conversation on both ends. Edward was the only one who knew what was going on, Emmett was still trying to catch on. Why was this girl so important?

Carlisle stepped on the gas, carefully not to step too hard so his foot didn’t go through the bottom of the car, as he spoke, “Continue heading to Bella, I’ve got to turn around.”

Edward saw his plan before he could ask. They came up to a dealership just after Emmett asked Edward’s forgotten question, “How are you doing to get there?” When he saw the dealership, he spoke, “Oh.”

Carlisle pulled over and got out of the car, handing the keys to Edward. Edward told him, “Good luck.”

He nodded and Edward moved to the driver’s side before pulling out and speeding down the road again. Emmett was still confused as to why Y/N was so important, but he thought it best not to ask. The answer would probably pop up eventually.

Carlisle disappeared into the car dealership, intent on finding Y/N.

After the long process-- at least, it was long for him --of getting his car, Alice had called Carlisle’s cell. She spoke quickly, knowing he was already listening. “I see her. She’s in her car, in the back tied up. Victoria’s taking her somewhere.”

“Where are they?” Carlisle asked, his tone patient but his emotions anything but. Alice was quiet for a moment, looking closely into her vision before answering, “They’re headed to Seattle.”

“Thank you, Alice,” he told her sincerely. Alice hung up the phone and he sped down the road on his way to her.

Y/N inhaled deeply as she began to open her eyes. They fluttered before finally settling to see what was around her. She looked up and let out a small groan, “Where am I?”

She looked over when a female voice answered, “She’s awake.”

That woke her up completely. Memories from earlier hit her like a train as she went to sit up, realizing her hands and legs were tied up. The bindings were tight, she could barely move her fingers because her hands were tied so close together. She managed to sit herself up with tons of difficulty.

The woman was driving so quickly that all Y/N could make out through the windows were shades of dark green and blue. It was still dark outside, so she hadn’t been out for too long. The speed was enough to make Y/N nauseous as she moved to put her seatbelt on, going as quickly as possible in her panic. She needed to stay calm and the seatbelt was some sort of mundane reassurance.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, her breath quick with worry.

“Nowhere you need to be in a rush to be. We're going to meet your friends,” the woman responded with a sadistic smile.

“My friends?”

“The Cullens,” she answered her.

Realization hit her as Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She spoke in a slight whisper, “You’re a vampire.”

The woman looked in the rear view mirror at her, giving Y/N a view of her crimson red eyes, “Smart girl.”

Y/N gulped, “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, of course not,” the woman said, before shrugging a shoulder and smirking, “Not yet, at least.” She looked back at the road for a moment and Y/N looked around quickly. There had to be some way for her to get out of this situation. She couldn’t defeat a vampire, if she tried anything, she probably would kill her earlier than expected.

Before she could think of anything, the woman’s eyes turned to the mirror again and she frowned, snarling at what she saw. She turned around to see through the windshield in the back. Y/N looked back as well, but she couldn’t see anything. They were going too fast for her to make out a single thing.

The woman huffed and turned the wheel harshly, vastly overestimating the turn before the car swerved dangerously off the road. They were in air for a second and that’s when time seemed to slow.

Y/N was nauseous as she felt herself lift off of the seat as she seemed to float on thin air. A cry left her throat and tears pricked in her eyes as she feared for her life as she thought about the impact of crashing at this speed.

In the second they were in the air, Victoria managed to open her door and dart out of the car, leaving Y/N there. She was already gone before the car even crashed.

The front wheels crashed onto the ground harshly and the nose of the car dug into the soil. It flipped the car over as it landed on the hood, the back of the car propping up against the tree behind it.

Y/N groaned and she smelt the smoke and gas. She moved, but she was stuck and there was a pain in her chest that made it hard to breathe. A strangled cry let her throat as she looked down and saw a large shard of glass sticking out of her chest. Her head spun and she was nauseous all over again.

She looked down at her seatbelt slowly, pressing the button to take it off before falling to the bottom. The glass on the bottom sliced at her skin and she winced. Blood, sweat, and tears covered her. She looked to see if she could find a way out of the car. She could hear the gas leaking out of the car, it would blow with her in it if she didn’t get out.

She ignored the glass and other sharp materials, moving to get to the door, to open it so she could escape. She tried all she could but she couldn’t reach the door, she was trapped.

But then the door ripped off of the car, allowing a passage to escape. She wiggled toward it, but she could barely move, the car was beginning to collapse in on itself and it was weighing down on her.

She could barely see, her vision was blurry and going in and out. It was so hot, it was making her dizzy. She saw a pale form in front of her, but she could make out a face. The form ripped the car apart over her so he could grab her, pulling her out of the car and to safety.

When she was finally out of the car, away from the heat and the gas, a round of coughs rattled through her. The smoke was no longer trying to cloud her lungs as she went to breathe. When the coughs subsided, she blinked until her vision slowly came back to her.

She looked back down at the glass shard in her chest, she brought her hands up, reaching her fingers to grab the shard nervously. When she had a good enough grip, she closed her eyes shut to brace herself.

“No, don’t do that,” a voice said. She knew that voice.

Her eyes flew open and she saw Carlisle, reaching to grab her hands. She reacted quickly, rushing to get away from him. She couldn’t move very well, the bonds wouldn’t allow it.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Y/N screamed, flinching away from the desperate touch of Carlisle. Her eyes were wild, her breathing fast and shallow, her whole body trembling in uncontrolled fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Carlisle said, gently taking Y/N’s hands and holding them firmly. Their eyes met. “Listen to me,” he told her, “You’re safe and they aren’t going to hurt you again. I’m here now. Trust me, I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

Carlisle almost expected Y/n to yank her hands away in her panic, but she didn’t-- instead she relaxed a little, tears slipping from her eyes, and let out a breath, “I…”

“It’s okay,” he said, smiled, and pulled her into a hug she didn’t resist. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She calmed the best she could and her exhaustion snuck up on her, causing her to pass out in his arms.

He sighed and looked at the wounds all over her body, then glaring at the glass in her chest. He needed to help her quickly. He took off his jacket, removing the shard and tying it around her chest as tight as he could without suffocating her.

He set her in the back of his car so she could lay down and made sure she was alright. He stepped on the gas and they were off to his house in no time at all.

Y/N breathed in suddenly, her eyes shooting open as she went to look around frantically to see where she was. Her body was in pain, but it didn’t hurt as badly as it did before. A soft, calm, soothing voice spoke to her, “Hey, hey. It’s alright, calm down.”

She looked to see Carlisle hovering over her, cotton in hand as he tried to get her to calm down. “Where am I?” She asked quickly, still working on the adrenaline she’d built up while she was asleep.

“Just relax,” he told her, “You’re in my home.” She took a breath in and allowed herself to lay back again. He gave her a reassuring smile, dabbing the cotton ball against a cut on her forehead. She winced and looked up at him while he worked.

“What happened?” She asked quietly.

He looked down at her, his eyes darker than the honey gold. They were around the same color she saw when she went to the hospital the second time, only they were slightly darker. “You don’t remember?” He asked, just as gently.

She looked down at her chest, there were stitches there that explained the numbness.

The glass shard in her chest from the crash.

She looked at her hand, seeing her bruised wrists.

The rope she was tied in by the woman.

It all came back to her as she looked over herself and then back into Carlisle’s still calming eyes. She remembered seeing those eyes after being dragged out of the burning car by him.

“You... You saved me,” she mumbled, sight disbelief as she stared at the gorgeous man.

“Of course, I did,” he told her gently as he bandaged the cut on her forehead. She had quite a few bandages on her body. She remembered the cuts and scrapes from trying to escape from the car.

She shook her head and blinked, “But...why?”

“I couldn't let you die, Y/N,” he said softly.

“Because you’re a doctor,” she concluded, feeling a little down by the answer.

“Because...it's complicated,” he shook his head and let out a sigh.

Y/N nodded, sighing slightly before wincing from the action, “That’s what Edward said, too.”

“You know our secret,” he stated more than asked. She nodded, “Yes.”

“Edward told me,” he replied.

She looked back at him, “Are you mad?”

He glanced at her, a small smile on his face, “Of course not.”

She managed to crack a joke, surprising even herself, “Just disappointed?”

He chuckled lightly, she felt triumphant about getting a chuckle out of him, “No, not that either.”

She smiled slightly before it dropped again, “Then what?”

Carlisle hesitated, setting the cotton ball down as he looked back at her, into her eyes. He stood blinking at her, lost in thought as if he tried to find out how to respond. He finally spoke, looking away from her as he did, “I’m captivated by you.” He returned his gaze to her curious, sparkling eyes.

“Me?” She questioned, shocked and surprised, “How?”

He chuckled weakly again at how shocked she sounded, “It has a degree of fate in it…” He returned to his work, picking up a cream and rubbing it onto her wrists over her bruises without hurting her.

“Ah, yes. Fate. My favorite thing,” she joked, watching his hands move along her wrists. He genuinely laughed, the two of them relaxing a little more before he turned to her ankles to rub the cream on the bruises there as well.

After rubbing in the cream, he bandaged the bruises and flashed her a smile, “I’m all done.”

She smiled at him, “Thank you, Carlisle.” She moved to sit up a bit more and he helped her so she wouldn’t hurt herself more than she was already hurt.

He shook his head, “There’s no need to thank me.”

She stared at him, memorizing his features like it would be the last time she’d ever see him. Another gaze into his eyes and she remembered the second checkup. He was supposed to be her doctor. She knew his answer was a lie, she just didn’t want to point it out. But she felt a degree of necessity now.

“Why weren't you the one to take my case when I went for my checkup?” She questioned, a soft expression on her face as she examined his.

He sighed and looked down at his hands holding the role of bandages. “You,” he said, only looking up after, “It’s the same reason my ears are a different color than the first time you met me.”

She listened intently, her eyes never leaving him as he spoke, “When I said a degree of fate, that's what I mean... Your blood attracts me. I’ve lived a long existence and I’ve never had to try and hold myself back. It’s how I know…”

She furrowed her brows and he looked down and away from her again. She moved her head so he would look at her again. She threw her legs over the side of where she was sitting so her body was facing him now, “How you know what?”

He looked back up at her, the way she was sitting now put him standing between her legs. Neither of them seemed to notice, though. They were wrapped up in their conversation.

“It’s how I know you’re… my mate,” he finished, watching for her reaction closely. Once again, she was caught by surprise. “I’m-” she closed her eyes and shook her head before looking back up at him, “Like a soulmate?”

He licked his lips with a light chuckle, “More or less, yes.”

She blinked at him, “Me?”

He sighed slightly, furrowing his brow as he gazed at her. He spoke gently, “You really don’t see it?”

She shrugged lightly, “I don't see how you could be… How I could be... You're way out of my league.”

A smile tugged at his lips, “Apparently not.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she chuckled.

He shook his head, “You don’t have to say anything.” He set a hand under her chin, lifting her head a little to see him better before dropping his hand. He spoke in a gentle tone, “You’re perfect for me.” He smiled and kissed her forehead softly.

She gazed into his eyes, the eyes that seemed to turn lighter with every moment that passed, as if her presence was restoring their warm, honey golden hue. She licked her lips, her eyelids fluttering. They were so close now.

“Why did you save me?” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. Carlisle had managed to take her breath away as she tried to regulate it again.

His hands moved to her arms, just above her wrists. He slowly drifted down until they took her hands in his own. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darted from his to his lips. Their fingers intertwined as they relished in the slow, sensual moment. Everything was still and calm, nothing was disturbed or had any sign of turning out that way.

It seemed like they would be frozen in place like this before Y/N made the first move, her hands moving from his as her arms wrapped around Carlisle’s neck. She pressed her lips to his, letting out her breath at the relief of the kiss.

Carlisle’s hands fell to her waist, steadying her as he kissed her back. Their lips molded together, moving in sync with each, in perfect harmony. She could feel what he meant about being his “mate”. She could feel that bond, that connection that they held. She was Intoxicated by him.

Her fingers intertwined in his hair, keeping him as close to her as possible. She wanted to feel him against her, his body close to hers in that sensual moment. It was as if the world stopped around them, as if it allowed them to have the moment for as long as they wanted, allowing them their forever.

It took awhile for Y/N to finally pull back to allow her lungs some air. Their eyes were closed, her forehead pressed against his as she caught her breath. He didn’t move from where he was, relishing in her presence. He spoke, his voice a whisper in the air, her words meant for her ears only, “I don't want to lose you.”

That was enough for her as she smiled and brought him back into another life-altering kiss.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #cullen #cullen x female reader #carlisle cullen x fem!reader #female reader #twilight x you #twilight x reader #the twilight saga #fanfiction #fanfic #i may have gotten a little carried away #pls i know #eight thousand eight hundred and twenty fucking words #jesus fucking christ #shaking my head

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loyalshipper · 3 years

Text

May I introduce the Tumblr DC community to one of my two favorite Batfam AUs I have created. Bruce Wayne owns a hotel/museum near an ocean cliff and still has a chronic adoption problem but doesn’t fight crime. (If anyone writes this you can make it to where heroes still exist, the Batfam are the inly no capes)

WE still exists but it isn’t run by Bruce it is run by Lucius because back in the 60s Thomas and Martha bought the hotel and wanted that to be their legacy. They still die the same way but Bruce puts all his efforts into running and blossoming the hotel which was his parent’s dream project.

I’ll get back into the hotel in a minute I’m taking about the kids now

Dick is gotten a similar way, he visits the Cape with Haly’s Circus, his parents die because of faulty wiring sold to the circus by Zucco and Dick becomes an orphan. Bruce just so happened to use his one night off in a while to go see the circus. He keeps thinking about Dick and ends up adopting him. He helps Dick and the Circus bring Zucco to justice and sues the hell out of him and shuts down his business. (Adopted at 8))

Jason was found living in one of the shut down rooms of the hotel. Because his dad left and was in prison and his mom od. So Bruce treats him like a wild animal and starts to leave food out on a regular schedule until Jason gets comfortable with him and he adopts Jason. (five years younger than Dick)

Tim was the son of two wealthy archaeologists who were gone 11 out of the 12 months. Bruce met Tim because he liked to come into the museum and take pictures of the museum exhibits and hotel architecture and shoreline which he would develop and give copies to Bruce. So he opens his house to this little boy with a penchant for photography. Until one day Tim’e parents call Tim telling him that they are staying in Egypt permanently because the archeological dig is producing wonderous results and they’ll be hiring him an around the clock sitter. Only for Tim to wait three weeks and no one shows up. They went so far as to fire Ms. Mac but never hired a sitter for their son. So he goes to Bruce in tears and explains everything, because this is it-his parents finally did abandon him, and Bruce sues them for custody of Tim. (Three years younger than Jason, adopted at 7)

Damian was the result of a relationship Bruce had in college while studying hotel management and hospitality. Talia is the daughter of a hotel conglomerate owner who is currently trying to buy Bruce’s hotel so it can be torn down and Ra’s can built a new hyper expensive hotel in its place. Damian was sent to live with Bruce to try and get Bruce to have Damian inherit the hotel so Ra’s can get it and destroy it, but that backfired because instead Damian falls in love with the hotel and his new family (reluctantly) and wants to see the hotel and museum flourish, not tear down this historical piece of architecture to replace it with a soulless hotel only available to the wealthy elite. But something available to everyone that families vacation to because there is so much history and beauty in a thing that has stood for centuries. So Damian turns against Ra’s. Due not that while Damian and Tim do have a sibling rivalry it is not as vicious and cutting as it is in canon. They love each other they just don’t mesh well while in the same room. And yes, Damian still has his variety of pets (7 years younger than Tim)

Cass came to the hotel with her “father,” David Cain, who went to the Cape for business, and just ended up leaving and forgetting Cass at the hotel. He was still abusive and Cass had trouble speaking but he wasn’t “turn Cass into the world’s greatest assassin” abusive. After Bruce finds Cass, he sues Cain for parental custody and then ruins his life unrepentantly. (Couple of months older than Jason)

After Martha and Thomas died, Alfred took over managing the hotel while Bruce was still growing up and while he was getting his degrees, now he is the grandfather to Bruce’s many kids and helps to keep them running and cared for while they run and care for the hotel. He’s also the one that helps the new kids transfer into the life of running a hotel.

Barbara is the daughter of the Police Comissioner still who became friends with Dick and works, first part time at the museum/hotel and then full time. Same with Steph and Tim (1 year older than Dick)

Cullen and Harper work at the museum, Helena works at the hotel. Carrie does both. Duke is the newest acquisition. Only, his parents disappeared and no one has been able to find them yet. So Bruce currently had temporary custody of Duke who lives at the hotel with everyone. (Harper is a year older than Tim, Cullen is a year younger than Tim, Carrie is the same age as Jason, Duke is a few months younger than Tim)

Each person has different jobs. (Dick is concierge/check-in, Jason does guided history tours of the hotel/museum/grounds, Tim works in financials because he deals with the least amount of people, Helena, Carrie and Steph are both maids, Carrie also does janitorial stuff with Cullen, Barbara works hotel check-in with Dick, Barbara and Harper work cashier at the gift shop, Duke doesn’t have a job yet because he is still dealing with the disappearance of his parents, Damian does every job to see where he fits in best.

JARRO IS THE FAMILY PET STARFISH THAT TIM ADOPTED WHEN HE FIRST JOINED THE FAMILY AND RESCUED FROM BEING EATEN OFF THE BEACH

The hotel is still fully staffed with not-batkids, like grounds keepers and other hotel cleaners and janitors.

Location time!

I’m turning Gotham nicer and changing the geography of the city.

The hotel Museum rests about 200 yds from a cliff that overlooks a beach. There is a well maintained stair case put into the cliff for people to walk down, as well as a longer gravel path that follows the cliff edge down to the shoreline. It is frequented by seals, sea lions, and in the distance, dolphins and whales. The hotel it’s self has about 100 or so acres of land and a long drive but it is technically within walking distance to the city. And it’s a normal coastal town with a port and touristic areas. Kinda eerie at night when the fog rolls in but that’s part of the charm of the NorthEast.

Selina is just Bruce’s friend in this. She is Helena’s mother and Bruce was a surrogate for her. She decided she wanted a baby and Bruce offered to be a donor. So Selina had Helena and Bruce is part of her life but not as her dad, which was the agreement. Selina takes care of the stray animals on the grounds and favors the cats.

Clark is a reporter that was tasked to right an article on the hotel and it’s history, became good friends with Bruce and brings his family (Lois, Jon, Bizarro, Kon, Kara, Lena, Chris, Ma, Pa, and Lex) on vacation to it every year. Lex and Clark are divorced husbands that left on good terms and are friendly enough to coparent their son, Connor, who was made the same way as canon but less hush hush and illegally, Kara is Clark’s cousin and Lena is her fiancée, Lois is his wife, Jon and Bizarro are their two biological sons (Bizarro has autism), Chris is their foster son. Bizarro latches onto Jason in a way that he hasn’t before and always loves coming to the hotel, Jon and Chris are best friends with Damian, Connor and Tim are long distance dating.

Collin, Maya, and Maps are Damian’s best friends from school (Damian has a crush on Collin) and he’s trying to convince them to join the hotel staff like his siblings’ friends but they are a) too young and b) not interested.

Roy has all of his problems as in canon and gets help for it, so as a way to try and bring the family closer, Oliver and Dinah arrange a vacation to the hotel for them Roy and Lian. As a stepping stone kind of thing. Get away from daily stress. Roy is resistant at first until he and Jason hit it off and start talking and Jason talks sense into him and they strike up a friendship turned romance.

The Flashfam visit the museum diring a countrywide roadtrip and mad the stop because Bart is a history buff and wouldn’t stop talking about it the entire trip. He becomes fast friends with Tim and is the only person to ever get a Tim Wayne history tour. No matter what Kon tells you he is super salty about it. Wally and Dick were internet friends and used the roadtrip as a way to be able to meet up.

Thad is the obligatory complainer who doesn’t want to stay in a musty old hotel.

Ivy is the main grounds keeper and is in charge of the native wildlife sanctuary most of the land is used for, as well as taking care of the native plantlife and lives in town with her girlfriend, Harley. Harley helps the kids prank Bruce.

Harley is a children’s psychiatrist hired by Bruce to help the kids deal with their various traumas. Her coming to the hotel for sessions is how she and Ivy met.

They started dating between Dick and Jason and Dick talks up each of them to the other, but each individual kid that comes in think they’d be cute together (since they are both professional while working there isn’t immediate proof that they are dating. But they will flirt with each other if they see each other) and it’s basically a right if passage to try and convince their siblings to help them get together and then try and set them up on their own and find out the hard way that they’re already together. They love seeing all the different way the kids try and set them up. They tend to go along with it until either the kids realise or they take pity on them.

Their favorite was Damian’s where he set up an entire romantic dinner at the hotel restaurant and Dick managed to slyly convince him to set it on a certain day that turned out to be Harley and Ivy’s anniversary.

Alfred is the head chef for the hotel, making room service meals and the breakfast buffet line up. Jason will help him out if he isn’t busy with other things.

Victor Fries and his wife hold an ice cream social ever summer at the hotel with all the ice cream flavors they came up with over the last year.

Edward Nygma, famous escape room designer, is hired to make an escape room themed on the hotel and museum that is built on the grounds near the main building.

Another ritual that starts, begins with Tim, where the older siblings convince the newest one that the hotel is haunted and Jason takes them on a “haunted ghost tour” of the abandoned part of the hotel (the part that is too dilapidated and run down to remodel safely) while the others are stationed at different parts of the hotel and grounds to run whatever scenario to scare the new kid. The only one that hasn’t been done to is Cass because even after several years she still jumps a little too hard at loud noises. But one time Jason accident closed a door a little too harshly while Cass and Tim were doing something and it caused her to jump so hard she knocked over Tim and started crying. They were contemplating whether she was strong enough to do it or not and that cemented that she wasn’t.

Tim and Cass are nearly inseparable and are commonly referred to as the Wayne Twins. For Halloween they decided to go as each other.

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hey-hamlet · 4 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas : Your blessings are your curses.

Also on AO3

TL;DR:

Dead All Might acts as a guardian angel to this heroic quirkless kid he runs into. Izuku gets put into a dangerous situation and turns out – DNA wasn’t needed to pass OFA. Just intent. Izuku gains the ability to see All Might along with the ability to use his quirk.

Sadly, AFO notices.

Now Izuku is on the run with a ghost for a guardian after AFO’s goons kill his mother.

Your blessings are your curses:

TL;DR: Dead all might, acts as a guardian angel to this quirkless kid he runs into. Izuku gets put into a dangerous situation and turns out – DNA wasn’t needed to pass OFA. Just intent. Izuku gains the ability to see All Might along with the ability to use his quirk.

Sadly, AFO notices.

Now Izuku is on the run with a ghost for a guardian after AFO’s goons kill his mother.

So – In the fight between All for One and All Might six years before canon, All Might loses.

Not horribly. All for One is still left almost dead and retreats into hiding, but All Might falls unconscious never to open his eyes again, later dying of sepsis in the hospital. His eyes may never physically reopen, but he does awaken – translucent and noncorporeal.

For a while he doesn’t know if it’s a latent quirk, or maybe something All for One did as a final blow, but no – it’s One for All. One for All has a mind of its own and refuses to disappear until Yagi has found a successor. Not that Yagi knows that.

His old haunts are too painful to hang around, the whole nation is grieving for him and seeing that pain on his old friend's faces burns something fierce. So he does what he’s always done. He helps.

Midoriya Izuku is nine when his favourite hero dies. He sees how the nation is grieving and his desire to be a hero only burns brighter. The bullying he suffers worsens, hate crimes against the quirkless and those with ‘villainous’ quirks uptick. Japan isn’t a pillar of safety and security anymore – crime rates have risen to match or overtake worldwide averages.

Still, he feels almost, safer? He gets luckier – the book his classmate stole shows up in his bag by the next period, bullies trip more often, and sometimes as he runs from villain attacks or classmates with their quirks popping against the nape of his neck, he feels a broad hand push him forwards, giving him an extra burst of speed.

He decides it must be the All Might charm he bought the day before the news of All Might’s death broke. A small solid plastic charm meant for a phone with a bright yellow bell attached, along with a tag reading “I AM HERE”. He fills the bell with scraps of paper so no one can hear it ring as he holds it tight in his hand when he gets nervous.

Midoriya Izuku is nine when he is almost killed.

With All Might gone, organized crime spikes. Quirk trafficking rings spring up – very rare, but no less real. It’s one of these such rings that kidnaps Izuku on his way home from school. He awakens, sore and blurry-eyed in a warehouse with a half dozen other crying children. One by one they are forced to show off their quirks, to gauge their value.

Izuku has no quirk to show. He has no value to these people. They growl at him to stop playing around, to stop pretending to be a hero (his All Might charm is almost cutting into his hand from how hard he holds it. He needs his luck more than ever please all might save me one more time - ). He can't bring himself to shut his eyes as a flaming hand reaches towards his face.

For a moment it feels like he's being held. He feels safe.

A shockwave levels the warehouse, leaving he and the other children untouched, the villains buried in the rubble. Green sparks sink into his skin, dancing over the rapidly purpling bruises decorating his arm. He runs.

He comes back to himself in a park, sobbing and shaking, arms wrapped around his shaking form and an oddly familiar voice murmuring apologies and praise as a broad hand runs gently through his hair.

It seems One for All never needed DNA, only intent, to pass itself along. With the passing of the quirk, Yagi should have dissipated, but he refused, clinging to the child he’d accidentally burdened with his legacy, the same quirkless child he’d been playing guardian angel for all this time.

When Izuku sees All Might he freezes. It’s not All Might as he knew him, rather – this is the All Might that died. He’s translucent, faded around the edges, with a tattered and bloodstained costume, thick padded bandaging over his stomach hiding stiches staining to close infected wounds, doing little to stop the blood oozing through. Still – All Might’s eyes are bright blue and kind and his smile is as it always was. Izuku throws himself onto his hero and sobs.

All Might – Yagi, as he insisted Izuku call him – led him to the nearest police station, as he tried to explain what had occurred. It wasn’t easy considering Yagi didn’t seem to be sure himself, but Izuku was pretty sure the quirk he’d been accidentally gifted was sentient.

Izuku held his arms up to the sky, stretching his fingers to the pinpricks of light in the night sky. Sparks of glittering gold, green, white, blue and red jumped across his skin, like the static shocks he’d get when he wore his wool socks in bed, but less painful. They almost felt playful.

“What are they called?” Yagi looked at him, confusion clear on his face. One of his spikes of hair drooped, and if Izuku could ignore the dust and blood that ran through it it would almost be funny.

“They? My boy, do you mean the sparks? If so, they don’t have a name.”

Izuku frowned, letting his hand drop. He could feel the sparks gently brushing his injuries, almost soothingly. “No, I mean your quirk. They should have a name, they’re so nice to me.”

Yagi coughed, dark blood spilling from his mouth, never to hit the ground. “One for All. It’s called One for All.”

Izuku’s frown deepened.

“All Might, mama says it’s rude to call someone an it.”

Inko is reunited with her only mildly injured son, now excitedly gushing about a quirk he’d somehow manifested. She privately thanks whatever spirit finally decided to smile upon her son, even if it took so long.

Their happiness doesn’t last long. Days later Izuku receives a summons to the head office. He freezes when he sees the police officer, Yagi’s comforting hand on his shoulder the only thing that keeps him from running.

It was a villain attack, the officer says with kindness so forced Izuku wants to cry. Yagi looks angry. If you’ll just come with us so we can get you to the safehouse with your mother –

Yagi almost growls with rage. “She’s lying.” He whispers, habit enforced despite the fact Izuku is the only person alive that can hear him. “Follow her out of the school then run” Izuku does exactly that, quirk sparking up his legs and pushing him forwards, down the familiar path to home. He takes the stairs six at a time, quirk chipping the edges of the concrete as he hurls himself forward.

Their apartment is in shambles, bookshelves tipped, small objects laying scattered on the floor, a pale arm laying limply from a half-open bathroom door.

Yagi pushes him out of the apartment and confirms the identity himself. He urges a sobbing Izuku to say his goodbyes to his mother’s corpse as they quickly gather all the money in the house, a few spare clothes and whatever food and water Yagi could knock down from the pantry shelves for him. Izuku crams it into his backpack as he sobs, Yagi guarding the entrance as he boils with rage and guilt.

He didn’t think All for One would find Izuku. He didn’t think he would even be looking. He was wrong and now his boy was paying the price.

So starts his time on the run.

He meets Shinsou first, saving him from some rubble in a villain attack. He meets him again later, battered and bruised – not from a villain, but from his foster parents. Shinsou joins him, no matter how Izuku explains hes in danger. Shinsou wants to be a hero, and if the only way he gets to be a hero is stubbornly keeping Izuku out of trouble? That’s not a bad trade-off, considering izuku was the first person to save him.

A little while later the two run into Shouto feverish and badly burnt and try to nurse him back to health as best they can. A few days in Touya and Toga run into their little camp guns blazing, expecting them to have kidnapped Shouto only to see Izuku patiently trying to feed him rice porridge with a veritable pile of ‘liberated’ fever reducers on the floor beside them.

They apologise but Shinsou and a still feverish Shouto refuse to talk to Touya or Toga for like three days bc they made Izuku cry.

They refuse to leave no matter how Izuku explains he has a centuries old villain after him. These kids are ride or die. So Hitoshi, Shouto and Izuku are like 9 and trying to learn what they can from libraries and newspapers, never settling down for too long. Toga (12) and Touya/Dabi (14) try and keep them all alive by working or stealing what they need to live. It doesn’t take long for them to evolve into a mini vigilante group.

Aizawa becomes familiar with the messy group of short vigilantes that seem to bounce from prefecture to prefecture every second day, to the point that the force is pretty sure one of them has a teleportation quirk because they don’t seem to have any kind of home base. He’s completely uninterested in trying to arrest them in the beginning – they aren’t hurting anyone and are not half bad at what they do.

That changes when he meets them.

Battered and bleeding out in a rainy alley with a villain looming over him with a knife, Aizawa is pretty sure this is the night he dies. The knife swings back, glinting in the streetlights as he tries in vain to scramble backwards with heavy limbs. It never connects. The villain jerks back as a brilliant blue plume of flame cuts him off, burning the tips of his hair. Not expecting backup the villain bolts. Aizawa feels small hands helping him into a sitting position – his stomach starts to sink. When the short masked figure with curly hair speaks he feels his heart turn to ice. The figure couldn’t be older than 11, probably closer to 10.

He wakes up in the hospital and he makes it his mission to save these kids.

Ghost All Might is having a rough time. His boy is in danger and the best he can do is rattle windows and trip sprinting villains. He can’t help them enough.

He has a plan though.

He warns Izuku that he’ll be gone for a while and to keep safe without him and he goes out scouting. Being invisible and impermeable is normally a curse but when trying to find a paranoid 200-year-old super villain? It’s pretty damn useful. It takes months but eventually he’s not only tracked down All for One’s main hideout he’s also memorised his schedule. It’s nothing impressive considering the man is still mostly bedbound after what All Might did to him, but he won't be a pushover. It’s a start, though.

Izuku cries tears of joy when he sees All Might again and cries even more when he shares what he found. It’s do or die time. He offers every one of his friends the chance to split now because there is a good chance they’ll die, but none of them wants to leave him. With that, he starts planning.

They’ll need Eraserhead, no bones about it. Without him, there would be no way to strike the final blow. They spend a few weeks refining their stealth then they seek Aizawa out.

They knew he’d have a price for helping them, but they never expected it would be so high, but simultaneously so kind. In exchange for his help and a vow of silence he wants each child to let him help them, to find them a safe place to live, a school to go to – a future. Izuku has spent his whole life being told he doesn’t have a future, from when he was diagnosed quirkless to the almost 2 years spent on the run from Japan’s most dangerous villain. He’s still not sure he’ll have one, even with All for One dead, but he knows he wants his friends to grow up happy and safe.

He accepts.

With Aizawa’s help, with Dabi and Toga clearing the way and Shinsou standing in the wings as the last resort, Izuku kills All for One as he sleeps. Nothing flashy, nothing fancy, just quiet footsteps, a sharp knife and shaking hands.

Aizawa is horrified this child just killed someone in front of him, but Izuku is sobbing and All for One is notorious in underground circles so he keeps his quirk up until the blood stops flowing from his neck. He takes the children and flees.

#bnha au #full au #your blessings are your curses au #all might #aizawa shouta #midoriya izuku #dabi #shinsou hitoshi #toga himiko

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quokkacore · 3 years

Text

with great power I [lee jeno]

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

pairing: lee jeno x reader

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

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

main masterlist // story masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM]

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

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

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

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

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

[7:52 AM]

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear

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

y/n: also ur literally never late

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

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

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

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

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

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

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

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

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

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

[7:57 AM]

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

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

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

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

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

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

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

“The Bachelor?”

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

“Ah. I see.”

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uh… ran a little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you.

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

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

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like her, Yeeun.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

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

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

“Fuck you, Huang.”

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

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

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

"San Choi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming!” San yelled back.

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

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

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

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

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

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

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

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

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

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

When you talk right to me

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving

You running back to me

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

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

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

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

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

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

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

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

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

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you left your keys."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed.

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

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

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped.

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

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

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

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

“Hand it over, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8:36 PM]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs @crescentjen

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

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Misread Details, Part Two

CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

2 weeks ago

I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!

In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket.

The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train.

Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?

Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?

And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?

Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.

Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.

Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force.

His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.

Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.

After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.

He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.

“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.

Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear.

They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.

The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.

But Brute Hanlon had a secret.

Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.

Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.

Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.

While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.

Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged.

What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.

After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him.

Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.

One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy.

During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent.

He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.

Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good.

The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”.

Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.

Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point.

Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.

Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests.

Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.

Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.

We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.

On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.

None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life.

At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.

Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.

When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”

He was right.

What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.

The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.

Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.

Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.

The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.

He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.

Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.

Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason).

Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom.

There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there.

In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.

Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.

Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.

A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.

I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.

Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.

Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.

Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.

Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since.

Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.

I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.

So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?

In short… no one knows for sure.

After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.

The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.

He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.

Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.

Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.

Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.

Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

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joshjacksons · 3 years

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Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

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Dead, broke

Of all the moving, wrenching accounts of death during the pandemic, Molly McGhee’s “America’s Dead Souls,” for The Paris Review stands out: haunting, furious and sad, an rude awakening of the status quo that denies any possibility of inaction.

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

I’ve known McGhee a long time, since she worked on my book INFORMATION DOESN’T WANT TO BE FREE from McSweeneys, a professional association we renewed when she landed at Tor.

During the pandemic crisis, I’ve had two different connections to her: on the one hand, the consummate professionalism of her emails as we published my novel ATTACK SURFACE in the middle of the lockdown.

On the other hand, I knew her through her wrenching and deeply personal Twitter account of the personal tragedies she’s endured over the same period. Her Paris Review essay brings those tragedies into sharp focus and uses them to pin a huge and heretofore ill-defined feeling.

McGhee’s mother died during the crisis, but the death was the culmination of years of hardship: “[earning] less than $10,000 a year. Suffering from debilitating depression while caring for her aging parents…chronically unemployed, undermedicated, and overstressed.”

Her mother’s debts were on public display through searchable databases, and her life was haunted by both con artists and bill collectors who carpet-bombed her with calls, letters and emails.

She was too poor to fight back: her wages were garnished by the IRS “for back taxes calculated from a years-old misfiling they refused to correct.” McGhee sent her months of her salary, but it wasn’t enough.

She had no answer for her mother’s rhetorical questions, “Why are these people harassing me? What good does it do them?”

Because the answer is obvious and insufficient: “The people in power don’t care if we live or die, as long as they get paid.”

It only took two days after McGhee’s mother died for her creditors to begin harassing her for her mother’s debts. The state of Tennessee seized the house, but Wells Fargo expected her to make good on the mortgage.

The hospital where McGhee’s mother died wanted a quarter of a million dollars. McGhee, not even 26, was staring down the barrel of the weapon that had been trained on her mother, the inheritor of nothing but debt.

The debt-machine is efficient. Bill collectors found out about McGhee’s mother’s death before McGhee’s own family got word. And they’re remorseless, immune to McGhee’s “pleading, bargaining, reasoning, denying, uploading, scanning, begging, faxing, and crying.”

McGhee compares it to Gogol’s “Dead Souls,” a surreal tale of a grifter named Chichikov who buys dead serfs’ souls to sell for profit.

It’s only surreal if you’ve never been in the debt system’s crosshairs, “where one day of lost wages can compound into houselessness.”

We live in a system of winners and losers. The winners’ winnings come from debt, shielded from the system’s cruelty by “professionalism and bureaucracy” that insulate them — and their functionaries — from “feelings of culpability, not to mention empathy or curiosity.”

Poor people have less money, but the system is firmly focused poor people, because people with money can defend themselves. When McGhee went into debt to hire a lawyer, a single letter on official letterhead instantly reduced all that debt by 90% — more than $250k, poof.

It’s expensive to be poor. Take Community Health Systems, one of the largest hospital chains in America. It sues the shit out of poor people. When those people can afford lawyers, CHS loses, because it is chasing debts it is not entitled to collect.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/18/unhealthy-balance-sheet/#health-usury

CHS itself owes $7.6 billion. It turned its first profit in 2020, thanks to hundreds of millions of dollars in state and federal subsidies, and its executives pocketed millions in “performance bonuses” for a performance that consisted of getting bailed out by the public.

The Trump stimulus handed trillions to the richest people and biggest companies in America. Those companies “leveraged up” their handouts to raise trillions more and went on spending sprees, buying up struggling businesses.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

They loaded these companies up with debt, declared “divi recaps” (where you take out a loan on a company you bought on credit and put that money in your own pocket as a “special dividend”) and crashed the companies, destroying jobs and communities.

Plutes know there are three kinds of debt: workers’ debts (which must be repaid), owners’ debts (to be “restructured” away) and government debt (not debt at all, but still handy for terrifying normies with stories of “mortgaging our kids’ futures”).

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/17/disgracenote/#false-consciousness

Forty years of this approach has turned the economy into a shambling zombie, dependent on the fiction that “consumer” debts — repackaged as bonds through financialization — will be repaid, somehow.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

As an ever-larger share of the world’s wealth has shifted from the workers’ side of the balance sheet to the owners’, the ability of workers to buy things to keep businesses afloat as vehicles for debt-leveraging has only declined.

Wage-theft and stagnation, unions in retreat, monopoly, monopsony, tax-preferencing for home-owners over renters, for capital gains over wages, spiraling housing, health and education costs, worker misclassification — wages are annihilated before they’re even deposited.

With no wages left over to fund consumption, there’s only debt, and as Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be repaid, won’t be repaid.” CHS can comfortably carry billions in debts, but the sick people it sues for $201 have to choose between rent and medical debt.

Every loan-shark knows how this works. The chump with $500 who owes you $500 and owes the bank $500 needs an incentive to pay you ahead of the bank. To assert the primacy of your claims, you need an arm-breaker.

The digital world has given us all kinds of fantastic new arm-breakers: digital repo men who can brick your car or your phone. It’s automated the once rare practice of evictions, creating eviction mills that run with devastating efficiency.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Creating a debt-instrument — a bond grounded in the payments from other peoples’ debts — requires that you convince investors and bond-rating agencies that your arm-breaker will terrorize the debtors into paying you instead of child-support or grocery bills.

“The cruelty is the point” isn’t ideology, it’s pure description. The system — an artificial life-form constituted as immortal colony organism that uses us as gut flora — runs on competing claims to your debt, and victory consists of terrorizing you more than any rival.

The financiers who practice leveraged buyouts destroy real businesses, ruin lives and hollow out communities. They are feted as “job creators.” The workers who must borrow to close the gap they leave are “deadbeats.” Leveraged buyouts are back, baby.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

If you fret that forgiving student loans and making college free will “saddle our kids with debt,” then you’ve been suckered.

Look. Replacing a system that starts all but the richest children with unserviceable debt with one that doesn’t is liberation, not bondage.

Since Reagan, we’ve been hiking tuition, killing deductions for interest, and shielding student debt from bankruptcy.That’s how you can borrow $79k, pay $190k, still owe $236k, and have 25% taken from every paycheck AND Social Security until you die.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid. Student debts do get forgiven, but only for those highly educated, (potentially) highly productive people who can prove that they have been so thoroughly destroyed by debt that they have no future.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#student-debt

And as McGhee reminds us, the tragedy isn’t merely that we educate people on the pretense of betting on America’s future, but really, the principle use that the system makes of the educated is as collateral for securitized loans.

If the arm-breakers who chased her mother wanted to understand that woman’s humanity, McGhee says they should start here:

“Her humor and her rage were unmatched. In the evenings, against the setting Tennessee sun, she liked to drink red can Cokes in the garden while snuffing cigarettes out against the yard’s ant colonies. She could reckon with anyone just by looking them in the eye. Men were terrified of her, rightfully so. She was sweet. In the last week of her life, when she couldn’t understand where she was or who she was talking to, she greeted everyone the same: ‘Hi, pal. Hope you’re doing okay. When can you come pick me up?’”

Take a second. Re-read that.

#pluralistic

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nicknellie · 4 years

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@over-under-through1 requested: I was wondering if you could do a modern au/nobody dies with Willex and a sleepover/sort of comfort?

Okay, so in my professional opinion, this is probably one of the cutest things I’ve ever written. Thank you for suggesting it, I hope you like it!

Title from All You’re Dreaming Of by Liam Gallagher.

Underneath the Moon

For the first time in almost eighteen years, Alex had the house to himself for an entire night. His father was away on a work trip, some head-office-organised bonding experience he’d been less than excited about; his mother was out of the state entirely, having a girls’ weekend with her four sisters; and his little sister was staying at his aunt and uncle’s house while both parents were away because as responsible as Alex was, he was only seventeen and his parents hadn’t been foolish enough to leave him in charge of a twelve-year-old who had a tendency to dodge rules.

Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited – having free rule of the house felt like a dream come true. The moment he was alone, he had quietly broken every rule that had ever been set out for him: he had worn his shoes in the living room, rested his feet on the furniture, eaten ice cream straight out of the tub, watched a horror movie, and stood in the middle of the living room bellowing curse words for half an hour for no other reason than that there was nobody to stop him. They were petty acts of rebellion, sure, but to Alex they felt freeing and supremely satisfying.

His plan was to have a party. Well, not a party party – there was no way he’d be able to clean up all that mess before his father got home, and having so many people in the house would scare the living daylights out of him. The party would consist of just him and his closest friends having fun together, eating pizza and playing Just Dance and probably sleeping through most of it.

He opened up the group chat which consisted of him, his boyfriend Willie, and his best friends Luke, Reggie, Julie, Carrie, and Flynn. After typing out an invitation for them all, he read it through more times than he could count to make sure all the information was right. But before he could hit send, his phone buzzed with a notification from Willie.

Abandoning his own text, Alex opened up his private chat with just Willie. The text read: I’m feeling a little fragile, do you mind if we hang out?

Usually when Willie felt down it was something to do with his adoptive father, Caleb. They argued a lot, Alex knew, but Willie was normally quite closed off about the whole situation – Alex figured he would talk about it more when he was ready, so he had never pried.

He opened up the group chat and deleted his long message, thankful he hadn’t sent it, before going back to his conversation with Willie. Alex shot back a quick reply asking if Willie wanted to spend the night at his place before he could overthink or regret it.

Alex had stayed over at Willie’s a few times but never on purpose. He often fell asleep while they were having a movie marathon because being wrapped in Willie’s arms like that was sinfully comfortable and Willie radiated heat, so it was easy to doze off. He would wake up in the morning groggy and with no clothes to change into and no toothbrush to use. And Willie hardly ever came to Alex’s house because it was easier for them if they avoided his parents, so he’d never been able to spend the night.

But his parents weren’t here and Willie could be and this time Alex could plan to be with him all night.

Willie replied with an affirmative a moment later and Alex began the slightly unnecessary task of making the house look presentable. There wasn’t a lot to do; his mother had made sure everything was tidy before she had left for the airport, and Alex hadn’t made too much of a mess in his rule-breaking spree earlier. All he needed to do was straighten a few cushions and clear away a few plates and bowls he hadn’t taken to the kitchen earlier.

It was getting dark by the time Willie arrived. Alex could always tell when Willie was at the door because he didn’t ring the doorbell like any normal person, he held the button down and let it ring until somebody answered. It drove Alex’s parents round the bend, which was half the reason Alex found it so endearing.

Willie did the same that night, holding down the button and letting the shrill chime of the doorbell draw Alex to him. When Alex opened the door, Willie was looking up at him with a smile on his face and his board tucked under his arm.

“Hey hotdog,” he greeted, standing up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “Good day?”

“Yeah,” Alex replied, wrapping him in a one-armed hug and pulling him inside the threshold of the house. “How about you?”

Willie shrugged evasively. “Great now that I’m with you.”

Alex smiled in return, shut the door behind him, then took Willie’s hand and led him to the living room. They plonked themselves down on the sofa and Willie automatically curled himself around Alex like a koala.

This had been what Alex was expecting – when Willie was down, he did his best to cover it up. He hid his sadness behind avoidance and false smiles, but little gestures (like holding Alex so tightly that he thought he might actually burst) were what gave him away.

Willie picked up the remote and flicked the TV on, landing on a David Attenborough documentary. His eyes were trained on the television like it was all he ever wanted to see, which was how Alex knew that there was something he was avoiding talking about.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting Willie’s head to face him with two fingers under his chin. “You sure you’re okay?”

Willie swallowed but clearly decided lying wasn’t worth it, giving a short shrug. “I don’t know. It’s just been a long day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alex pressed carefully. “Because if you do then I’m more than happy to listen.”

He was given a weak smile in return. “Not tonight. Maybe just help me cheer up?”

“Of course,” Alex said, nodding. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, first I want to do this – sit and talk with you. Then I thought we could make cookies, I even brought the ingredients for that amazing recipe you made for my birthday.” He nodded down to a plastic carrier bag that Alex hadn’t seen before, placed down by their feet – he could see an ungodly amount of chocolate in it and couldn’t help but smile. “And I want to sleep with you.”

Alex short-circuited. He had not been expecting that. His face flushed and his mouth bobbed open and closed in a half smile – he didn’t think he could form words anymore.

“Oh, wait, that sounded wrong,” Willie said hurriedly. Alex breathed a little easier. “Not like that. No, I just meant I want to sleep next to you, you know, together. Like I said, it’s been a long day.”

“Right,” Alex said, half-relieved. “Right, okay, that makes more sense.”

Willie giggled – that was always an unfair thing to do because it was guaranteed to make Alex lose his mind – and rested his head on Alex’s shoulder. “I love you, hotdog.”

“I love you too.”

They stayed curled together on the sofa until the documentary finished, Alex gently weaving his fingers through Willie’s hair, Willie clinging to Alex like his life depended on it. It was calm and quiet and hardly anything like what Alex had previously planned for that night, but he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

As soon as the credits began to roll, though, Willie was up out of his seat, had picked up the bag of ingredients and was making his own way to the kitchen. “Come on, hotdog,” he called over his shoulder, “I’m hungry.”

Smiling fondly, Alex followed him to the kitchen and pulled from a shelf the old recipe book he had used a hundred times as a kid. He used to bake with his mother when he was little because they both enjoyed it and they had fun together – they still baked together every now and then, but it was filled with stony silences rather than banter and the only time either of them spoke was when they asked the other to pass them something.

Still, Alex enjoyed baking and he always would, and it had become his favourite pastime with Willie now. Willie was hopeless in a kitchen, but Alex was a whizz and the combination led to mediocre results – the end product didn’t matter, Alex thought, as long as he and Willie had fun making it.

It didn’t take long for things to descend into chaos, as was to be expected when Willie was placed in a kitchen.

“Willie,” Alex said, reaching for exasperation to cover up the adoration in his voice, “if you keep eating the chocolate chips then there won’t be any left to put in the cookies.”

“Don’t worry,” Willie said dismissively. “I bought plenty, there’s still three bags left.”

“We only need one bag for the cookies, why did you buy so many?”

“To eat,” Willie replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Alex tried to look unimpressed but quickly gave up when Willie fed him a chocolate chip, beaming, and he simply had to smile.

The smile had vanished when he’d smelled burning.

“Is something on fire?” he asked, peering past Willie to the cooker.

There was no fire, thankfully, but the chocolate that Willie had been melting was quickly turning black and sticky and it stank of smoke. Willie let out a curse that would have sent Alex’s mother running for the hills and tried to salvage it in vain, scraping at the sides of the bowl with a spatula, trying to un-burn the chocolate.

To top it off, the smoke alarm started beeping.

“Okay,” Alex said, steering Willie away from the stovetop and handing him a tea towel. “You go wave that at the alarm until it stops beeping, I’ll sort out the chocolate.”

Willie did as he was told, whipping the tea towel around his head like a lasso as he made his way out to the hallway to fight the fire alarm, and Alex turned the heat down on the stove, gently removing the bowl of chocolate. He disposed of it easily enough, but there was some fused to the cooker, so he scrubbed at it to get it off. By the time he’d done as much as he could, there was still a small stain, but it was hardly noticeable. As Willie came back, Alex started melting the chocolate himself.

“Sorry,” Willie said, slipping his arms around Alex’s waist from behind. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” Alex replied, awkwardly turning his head to place a kiss on the tip of Willie’s nose. “It just means you get one less bag of chocolate chips to eat – I’m using them for this.”

Willie groaned and buried his head between Alex’s shoulder blades, mumbling something about life being so unfair. Alex shook with suppressed laughter.

Alex took over control of the cookies from then on, at Willie’s insistence. It wasn’t the easiest of tasks because Willie refused to let go of him, so whenever he needed to move around the kitchen he had to employ an awkward shuffle so that Willie could come too. Still, by the end they had a fresh, warm, gooey batch of heavily chocolatey cookies and the grin on Willie’s face was worth all the hassle.

Alex watched him take his first bite and smiled proudly as Willie’s eyes closed in contentedness. “Good?” he checked.

“I am so in love with you,” Willie replied. Alex wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or the cookie, but he took it as a win.

They found themselves sprawled on the sofa again, the cookies and a half-eaten packet of chocolate chips between them. They ate in comfortable silence – Alex was conscious that it was almost ten o’clock and that it would be a good idea to go to bed soon and that people weren’t supposed to eat before sleeping, but he ignored those niggling thoughts. He enjoyed simply being with Willie, together in his house for once and happy.

Willie was the one to break the silence.

“I was arguing with Caleb earlier,” he said, looking at the cookies instead of Alex.

“Yeah?” Alex said, careful to keep his voice level. “About what?”

“He wants me to start doing shows at the club again,” Willie sighed. “I thought we agreed months ago that after I turned eighteen I wouldn’t have to do the shows if I didn’t want to. And I don’t want to. But he says that apparently the crowd miss me and I should come back.”

“That sucks,” Alex said, hating how lame it sounded. “I’m sorry. Are you still looking for your own place?”

“There’s practically nowhere in my price range,” Willie said, “but I’m supposed to be viewing an apartment next week that might be doable.”

Alex tried for a smile, reached over and held Willie’s hand. “Well, if it works out then you can move out and you’ll be free. No more guilt trips, no Caleb – you won’t even have to think about going back to the club.”

Willie smiled weakly. “Will you come and view the apartment with me?”

“If you want me to then of course I will. Anything, Willie.”

With one last tiny smile, Willie dropped the subject and finished the last bite of his cookie before checking the time. Alex didn’t miss him stifle a yawn.

“Come on,” he said, tugging Willie’s hand and pulling him up. “You’re tired, let’s go to bed.”

Willie didn’t look too enthusiastic about being made to sleep, but he didn’t protest. While Alex got changed in his bedroom, Willie got ready for bed in the bathroom. Suddenly Alex wasn’t sure how all this worked – was it weird for him to be waiting in the bed when Willie entered the room? Surely it was weirder if he was just stood next to it awkwardly and only got under the covers when Willie came in? Maybe, he thought, he should try to make himself look busy so that he wouldn’t seem strange when Willie came in. He tried it, rummaging around in his chest of drawers, but then realised that if Willie asked what he was looking for he wouldn’t have an answer.

He stopped, took a deep breath, and just climbed into the bed. He picked up his phone and scrolled through social media, just for something to do with his hands. Maybe that would look more natural anyway.

When Willie came into the bedroom, he jumped beneath the bedcovers like it was all he had been wanting to do all day, curling around Alex, resting his head on his chest and his hands on his abdomen. Alex put his phone down and pulled Willie closer, hands clasped around his back. He had no idea why he had been worried about this – doing anything with Willie felt natural and safe, why should this have been any different?

“Thank you for everything, Alex,” Willie said softly.

“It was my pleasure,” Alex returned, burying his face in Willie’s hair. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

Willie laughed. It sent shivers down Alex’s spine. “Yeah. I know. Goodnight, hotdog.”

“Goodnight, love.”

But Alex couldn’t sleep. He tried, he really did. For whatever reason, he lay there for hours, unable to drift off. Maybe it was having Willie so close, knowing he would stay that close for a long time. Maybe it was the summer air drifting through his open window, warm and soft even though it was nearing midnight. Maybe it was the fact that he’d gone against his gut and eaten those cookies right before sleeping. Whatever it was, Alex couldn’t sleep.

He moved his head to look at Willie, the tiniest movement possible, and saw that Willie’s eyes were open too.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, tracing Willie’s cheekbone gently with his thumb.

Willie shook his head. “Can you?”

“No,” Alex returned. Then he had an idea. “Wanna do something cool?”

Willie beamed and the two of them clambered out of bed. Alex picked up his duvet then crossed the room to his half-open window and wrenched it open completely. Because of the layout of Alex’s house, his bedroom window led directly onto a gently sloped section of roof. He hoisted himself through the window, then did the gentlemanly thing of helping Willie through too (though he was more than certain Willie could have managed it on his own, more gracefully than Alex had too).

Alex laid the duvet down on the roof like a picnic blanket, sat himself down and patted the space next to him for Willie to join him. The night wasn’t cold – it was summer, so the warm air danced across their faces, keeping them cosy and comfortable while they lay together underneath the moon, watching the stars and the deep night sky.

“I come out here sometimes,” Alex said softly, “because it feels lonely. Not in a bad way, just… it feels so far away from everything and everyone. It’s nice to just be alone sometimes.”

Willie hummed, a gentle response that settled some deep unnameable worry inside Alex’s chest. He softened, melted against Willie, relaxed.

They stayed there for hours, Willie pointing out constellations and giving them names and stories that Alex was almost certain were made up (“That’s Lord Crumpet, he vanquished the dreaded army of Abominable Snow Crabs which is why he has a pincer for a hand.”). It was simply nice.

Once Willie started to yawn, the ends of his nonsense sentences lost to his exhaustion, they crawled back in through the window and back into bed. Warm, close, cuddled, both of them were asleep within seconds.

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 16

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

It was 2006, one of the last seasons for Beacon Hills Girls lacrosse. The other girls on the team and I fought hard but it would be over by the time my senior year rolled around. We thought if we had made it to the state championships, we would save it. Here’s to hoping. As team captain, all eyes were on me to make the season great. We were lined up on the field, ready for the toss up. I stared into the eyes of the opposing player, the girl’s eyes were determined. But so were mine, I glanced to the side at the bleachers. There was Uncle Noah, Stiles, and Scott, cheering me on. I was just happy Stiles came today.

I looked back up, just in time for the pearl toss, I scooped it from the air, immediately shoving passed the opposing player. I ran down the field, narrowly missing players looking to tackle. I threw the ball towards an open offensive player just as someone slammed me from the side. I grunted as I hit the ground, hearing the crowd wince. I got myself up on my arms and looked down the field. My player was able to get through the other team’s defense and scored the game winning goal. Coach Finstock laughed loudly, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd. I stood up, raising my crosse in the air and shouted into the sky. I ran back to the bench, congratulating my teammates. But now I needed to see him. I pushed through the crowd, I looked around. As I got through the crowd, I was left alone. I was staring out into the woods. An eerie feeling came over me. There was something out there.

“Hey!” Michael’s smiling face came into my vision, causing me to smile.

“Hey.” I smiled, looking back at the crowd, “Have you seen Derek?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at me, “Who’s Derek?” I paused, asking myself the same question.

“I don’t know.”

“So let me get this straight,” I said into the phone. I was on the phone with Stiles getting a recap of what had happened over the last couple days, “You stole a police transport vehicle-”

“We put gas in it!”

“Of course, you did. You stole a transport van, filled it with gas, kidnapped Jackson to talk to him, left him in the woods. Jackson’s father, a lawyer, has issued two restraining orders against you and Scott.” I made sure to separate the kanima and Jackson. “Found out the kanima is being used by a ‘master’. Is that it?” Derek raised his eyebrows at the conversation.

“I was also grounded from Scott.” He added.

“Unfortunate.”

“When are you coming home?” He asked, hushing his voice a little, “I’m all for you living out your best werewolf life but I would rather you be home.” I motioned for the group of Derek, Erica, and Isaac to go ahead of me.

“When I have the courage to face your dad. Or when my lie that I’m staying at a friend’s house doesn’t work anymore. Whatever comes first.” I sighed, “I’ll try to come home soon. I need to apologize.” After our goodbyes, I hung up the phone.

After I stepped into the railway car, I made it just in time for our “pack meeting” to start.

“So, why do we need their help?” Isaac asked.

“Because it’s harder to kill than I thought, and I still don’t know who it is.” Derek said impatiently.

“And they do?”

“They might. Which is why I need one of you to get on their good side.”

“Mmm. Scott or Stiles?” Erica hummed flirtatiously. Honestly, I don’t think she realizes she’s barking up the wrong tree, no pun intended. Scott was more focused on Allison than his own life and Stiles was in a persistent pursuit of Miss Lydia Martin.

“Either.” Derek sighed, probably fed up with her new found flirtatious nature.

“Good luck with that.” I said under my breath, causing the group to look at me, “What? The last time they saw you, you broke into Scott’s house and tried to kill them.” Isaac titled his head to the side and nodded a little in agreement.

Isaac turned to Derek, “You know, the full moon's coming, Derek.”

"I'm aware of that.” Derek said irritably, he opened a large wooden chest, searching around for something. He pulled out dark, rusted chains.

“Oh my.” Erica lifted up a bundle of them, “These look comfortable.” She said sarcastically. He quickly took them from her grasp and put them with the rest that he pulled out of the chest.

“You said you were gonna teach us to change whenever we wanted.” Isaac said warily, eyeing the chains.

“There hasn't been time.” He said. And truly he hadn’t had time. I had really been training myself on how to control the chains with what I was calling exposure therapy. Getting really mad and controlling the change before turning so I would be less likely to kill someone during a spout of road rage.

“But if you have to lock us up during the full moon, that means... That means you're alone against the Argents.” Isaac said.

Derek closed the lid of the chest, “They haven't found us.”

“Yet.“ Kid had a point, “So, how about we forget about the Kanima?”

“We. Can't!” He shouted in frustration. He sighed, “There was something about the way Gerard looked at it... He wasn't afraid, at all. I don't know what he knows, or what he's planning. But, I'm sure about one thing-- we have to find it, first.”

“With Scott’s group.” I added, “We are stronger in numbers, that’s how the hunters work and that’s how we should work.”

On the drive home to the Stilinski house, I really had to convince myself not to turn back around and go back to the depot. But Uncle Noah deserved an apology. He had taken me in, given me a fresh start and asked that I be safe in return. Yet here I was, fighting a lizard man with the threat of hunters on my tail, not to mention that I was a movie monster. I parked in the driveway next to his police cruiser and closed my eyes. My emotions were running high and it was hard to keep my eyes from turning red.

“Breathe.” Derek’s voice echoed through my head, “It’s going to be okay.”

I took a deep breath in and out and when I opened my eyes, the red was gone. Now or never.

After closing the front door behind me, I walked quietly into the kitchen where I found him. He was leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He looked exhausted. He looked up from his cup a little surprised.

“(Y/N)...”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before answering, “Uncle Noah...”

“Is...Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I said quickly, “Everything’s....” I let out a deep breath, “Everything’s not fine. I’m so sorry about the things I said.”

He smiled a little, “It’s fine.”

“It-It’s not fine though. You’re just looking out for me, I should appreciate that more. You’ve done more than anyone in my situation could have asked for. You opened up your home, bought me clothes, gave me my own room. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, no.” He said, setting down his coffee mug, “I did have to do that. Besides promising your parents that I would look after you, I did this because you’re like one of my own. You’re like the daughter I never had. I love you.” His eyes held a special twinkle. One that you could only find in people that truly loved you.

Tears prickled at my eyes, my lips trembling, “I love you too.”

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. I gripped onto the material of his shirt and cried. The first time I had really cried since everything happened with my parents. It just felt like my eyes had been built up and after a while, I was crying because of Uncle Noah, because of my parents, because of the torture I went through. I felt like I had no one to vent to like how I could my mom and dad because they weren’t here anymore. It felt nice to cry and feel safe because I knew that Uncle Noah loved me, no matter what. I just wished that if me being a werewolf did come out, he would still love me like his own. Even the thought of it scared me.

“It’s alright.” Uncle Noah stroked my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, “Everything gonna be okay.”

But it’s not okay.

Just a drive to clear my head, that’s all I needed. Stiles was ringing my phone off the hook which really wasn’t helping with my anxiety right now. I looked over to reach for my phone and when I looked back there was someone standing in the middle of the road.

“SHIT!” I screamed, turning my wheel harshly, sending me off the road and into a ditch. I slammed on the brakes, making my body slam forward into the steering wheel. I felt the cracking of my ribs against the hard plastic of the wheel. Pain washed over me in waves as I tried to catch my bearings. I felt dizzy and nauseous on account of the whiplash. I looked back towards the road and the mystery person was gone. It was around that time that my airbag went off, slapping me in the face.

“Nice.” I grunted, opening up my car door. I turned to look out when I froze. The kanima was staring me right in the eyes. But it didn’t make any sense, unless the kanima can turn without moonlight.

“Jackson...” I whispered, “Jackson, if you’re in there I need you to listen to me.” I swallowed, watching the creature tilt his head to the side. It seemed to recognize my voice.

“I can help you, Jackson. I don’t want to hurt you. Just please... Don’t...”

“(Y/N)...” The creature’s voice said. I didn’t even know it was capable of speech. But the voice wasn’t exactly reptilian, as if that was possible. It wasn’t Jackson’s voice either. It was a voice that seemed so familiar, but not.

“Well... That’s not good.” I said, just starting to move to get to the other side of the car when I felt Jackson’s whip-like tail slice across my side.

“God....dammit.” My voice was strained since my entire body became paralyzed within seconds. The creature reached out, pulling me out of the car.

Ah yes, a roadside killing for the kanima, how wonderful. Okay, maybe thoughts like this weren’t the best. This is how I died, alone on the side of the road. I took a deep breath, watching the world go by as Jackson’s scaly hands dragged me down into the ditch further.

A loud roar cut through the air and I felt Jackson drop me, hissing before I heard him take off into the woods. Derek’s face filled my vision and relief washed over me.

“It’s alright, I got you.” He said, picking me in his arms. I saw my car out of the corner of my eye.

“Is she totaled?” I asked.

“No, she’s fine.” He chuckled, “Your transmissions probably shot though.”

“Awesome.” I groaned, closing my eyes.

- By the time I woke up, it was later in the day and I was back home on the couch. With Derek and Uncle Noah... talking. My eyes widened and I sat up, I hissed in pain and laid back down. My head was still killing me.

“Woah, slow down there, kid.” Uncle Noah came to my side, kneeling down beside me on the couch. He smiled and smoothed back my hair from my face, “I thought I told you when you saw a deer in the road, you can’t swerve. Just slow down and if you hit it, you hit it. It’s sad, but there are more deer, there’s only one you.” I glanced up at Derek, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed not at all concerned around Uncle Noah.

Uncle Noah followed my line of sight and smiled, “It’s okay, secret’s out.” My heart almost stopped, why in the hell would Derek tell him I was a werew-

“And it’s okay. I am... okay with you seeing Derek.” I blinked at him.

“What?”

“Is that where you’ve been? At a friend’s house.” He stood up and chuckled, patting Derek on the shoulder, “Derek, here, explained it all to me.”

“I told him that you didn’t want to disappoint him by dating someone who was a murder suspect.” Derek said, smiling a bit at the sheriff.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine now. Just for the future, you can always tell me anything. No matter what.” He smiled reassuringly. Well... I guess that was one thing out of the way.

“Your car’s in the shop, it’ll be there a day or two. So for now, Derek has volunteered to take you to work.” Uncle Noah smiled, then looked down at his phone, “I gotta take this.” He excused himself from the room and left out the front door. I sat back up again, looking up at Derek’s with my eyebrows raised.

“How did that whole situation go?” Referring to ex-con Derek Hale telling the chief of police that he is dating his pseudo-daughter while she was unconscious in his arms.

Derek shrugged, coming to sit on the edge of the couch, “Well, I was threatened with the gun at first. But after explaining some things... He understood.” He reached out, holding my hand, “He also said he was glad that we were friends again.”

“Does that mean my parents told him that I wasn’t friends with you anymore and not to bring you up?”

“Seems like it.” He sighed, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.

“God.” I breathed out, feeling tension rising in my shoulders, “I understand why they did what they did but... They had a total disregard of the consequences. What were they going to say when I asked what happened to you, would they tell me they told you to go away or would they lie again? A majority of my life was stolen from me and when I try to remember my old lacrosse games where you could have been there... The only face I see is Michael’s. And I think he knew something.”

“We’re gonna figure it out.” He said. I moved closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder.

Derek then explained the events of the dad, the kanima attacked Scott, Stiles, Erica, and Allison in detention and he had agreed to not kill the creature.

“Why did the kanima go after me? Why didn’t he kill me immediately.”

“You don’t have to cover for him anymore, I know it’s Jackson.”

I sighed, “Good, because I didn’t like keeping it from you.”

“Yeah, why did you keep it from me?” He asked, looking down at me.

I gave him a surprised look, “Well, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you would have killed him? Yeah, he’s a douchebag, but that’s a little much. From what you said, finding out Jackson was adopted at birth and that he literally had to be removed from his mother’s dead body... Maybe that’s what caused the bite to mutate.”

“It’s possible.” The sound of the door slamming shut and the sound of familiar awkward footsteps made us both look up. Stiles halted in the living room, looking me over. I’m sure I looked like a wreck, still kinda felt like it, but the cracked ribs and head injury had healed by now.

Stiles pressed his lips together tightly, moving with purpose. He fell to his knees in front of the couch, wrapping his arms around me. Trying not to cry for the second time today, I hugged him, resting my cheek on top of his head.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. Stiles hold tightened at my words but he didn’t say anything. Derek nodded at me, making his way out of the house. Leaving Stiles and I alone.

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Read part 17 here!

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