#we met by chance at the cafeteria today and we talked about the time frame again bc apparently there are other people who also need my devi

[souppippin]

had a weird experience with my bachelor thesis advisor today

[rocksandrobots]

Phantoms of the Past: Ch. 5 - Best friends, Boyfriends, and Barons Part 1

"Hey Miss Itamae! Ready for a whole new school year? Hee...hee...eeeh.... yeah, fine." Hiro gave up trying to make small talk with the lunch lady as she unceremoniously slopped meatloaf onto his plate.

Today was the first day of the fall semester and the start of Hiro's second year at SFIT.  It felt odd to him, to look back and realize just how much time had passed; how much things had changed during the previous year.

A year ago, today, he had been attending Tadashi's funeral and now he was going about his life as if everything was normal. Well, almost normal. He was also moonlighting as a superhero, adopting an out of time teenager as his new big brother, and befriending deadly robots.

Life was weird.

Of course it wasn't as if he could ignore his loss completely. He had noticed the flowers and cards placed at the foot of Tadashi's memorial over by the exhibition hall. People still remembered that his brother had died a hero. Folks that he didn't even know had left their condolences today, though most of the gifts were from Tadashi's teachers and friends.

Hiro had particularly noticed a painting Honey Lemon had left, of her, Tadashi, and the rest of their friends. He also spotted Gogo sitting out there early that morning, lighting a candle in his brother's memory. He had given her her space, choosing not to interrupt. Gogo and Tadashi had been especially close.

Hiro remembered how excited his brother had been when Gogo finally agreed to go out with him. Tadashi had hurried about their bedroom, a couple of days before the fire, fretting over where to take her on their first date. A date that they had never gotten to go on. At the time Hiro had teased him relentlessly, never passing up the chance to deflate his brother's ego. Now it was just another bittersweet memory to look back on.

Fred abruptly snapped him out of his mournful reflection. "Steve." was all he said as he grabbed Hiro by the shoulders.

"Steve? Uh, my name is Hiro, remember Fred?"

"No, no, no, Steve was the name of the ninja robot that Trina found. She said he was held in a warehouse downtown, along with all the other ninjas. Don't you see, that's our big break! We find this warehouse and then we can track down the mysterious bosu!"

Hiro wearily placed his tray down on the table and took a seat next to Wasabi.

"Fred, it's the first day of school. Can't this wait for later?"

"But-"

"Hiro's right Fred," Wasabi interrupted, "Just because you have all the time in the world to play superhero doesn't mean that we do. We still got our own lives to take care of."

Fred looked hurt at that. "I'm not playing! This is important work. We have a city to protect and this crime boss is just going to keep coming after us if we don't figure out how to stop them."  

Wasabi rolled his eyes. "Then you just go on and do that. In the meantime the rest of us have class to attend. I'm heading early to set up for my first lab."

"But labs won't open for like another hour." Hiro pointed out, confused. "They're still cleaning up from the robot attacks last week."

"Ah, he just wants to get there early so that he can see his boyfriend again." Fred complained.

"Sam's not my boyfriend. He's just a colleague, and at least I'm doing something other than obsess over superheroing." And with that Wasabi stormed off, while Fred slouched into the cafeteria chair with a huff.

"Listen, Fred, why don't you go on patrol with Minimax for a while. I'll help you track down this warehouse after school is over with." Hiro said.

"Okay," Fred reluctantly agreed, "but I'm not 'obsessing'."

"I know Fred, but the rest of us also have school to worry about. We just don't have the same amount of free time as you do."

"I know." Fred sighed before walking off.

                                                ---------------------------

"Sorry Hiro, but we're kind of busy right now." Honey Lemon regretfully informed her friends.

Fred and Hiro had met up after school as promised. Wasabi had declined to join them on their quest and so they had decided to recruit the girls instead. Though this also seemed to be a fruitless endeavor.

"Yeah, we're kind of in the middle of something." Gogo finished as she leaned back in a reclining chair and placed two cucumber slices over her eyes.

They had found the girls at a spa. Honey Lemon sat next to Gogo with curlers in her hair, and they apparently weren't the only ones out having a beauty day.

"Can't you see we're having some girl time?" Karmi asked, annoyed, as she examined her nails.

"Yeah, Hiro, go take your weird superhero hobby elsewhere?" Megan added.

"It's not weird!" Fred insisted.

"If this is supposed to be a girls only event, then why is he here?" Hiro said, pointing to Varian, who sat next to Megan.

"Uh, getting a manicure obviously." Varian rolled his eyes and then leaned over to show Carol, who was beside him, two bottles of nail polish. "Do you think I should go with the midnight blue or just stick with black?"

"Hmmm... I think either would be nice," she replied.

"Ooooh, have you tried the seaweed wrap they have here? It's great." Fred chimed in.

Hiro rolled his eyes, "Okay, so what are you two doing after this? Could you take up patrol tonight?"

"Nope." Gogo said.

"I promised my brother Carlos that I would help him move into his new dorm room. He starts at UCLA this week and Gogo's offered to drive me there. We won't be back till tomorrow morning." Honey Lemon explained.

"Okay, well, we'll just-"

"Alright, I'm ready." A voice called out, interrupting him.

Trina walked out from behind a door at the back of the spa. Her bulky gigantic metal body was gone and in its place was the frame of a young woman, dressed in a t-shirt, pants, and a cropped jacket. She looked very much the same as the day Hiro had first met her, at the bot fights. Only this time her hair had been cut and styled into a short mohawk and dyed a light purple.

"What do you guys think?" She asked as she twirled around.

Everyone shouted encouragements to her, and Varian cheekily whistled.

"You look nice, Trina." Hiro complimented.

Trina snorted and rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Hiro." She said, leaving the teenage genius confused by what he had said wrong.

Ignoring him, Trina walked over to the rest of the girls, "Thanks for the clothes... and for everything else." She sheepishly added.

"Hey, no problem." Megan replied. "They look good on you."

"Yeah, and if you need anything else just ask." Karmi added.

"Not to mention it's always fun to have a spa day," Carol piped in. "This was a good idea Varian, thanks for inviting me along."

"Sure thing. When Trina said she wanted help with finding a new wardrobe, I figured all of you would like to go shopping too.... and also y'all know more about clothes than I do."

"Hey, Trina," Fred interjected, "that warehouse where you foun- I mean, met 'Steve', do you happen to remember where it was located?"

Trina gave Fred a frown.

"Oooh, who's Steve?" Karmi asked, happy to gossip, "Is that your boyfriend Trina?"

"No." She said, "The place you're looking for is over in Good Luck Alley, next to Louie's."

"It must've been a bad breakup." Karmi whispered into Honey Lemon's ear, she wasn't very good at keeping her voice down.

"Yeah… he kind of... broke alright." Honey Lemon nervously added, unsure what to say.

"Uh, yeah, well thanks for the tip Trina. We'll be going now, bye." Hiro said as he hurried Fred out the door. He had had enough of awkward conversations and makeovers.

                                               ---------------------------

"Fred, wouldn't it be better if we brought our robots along at least?" Hiro whispered.

"You want to sneak around an abandoned warehouse with those two?" Fred whispered back, "I love him, but Minimax doesn't know how to be quiet, like at all."

Hiro sighed, Fred had a point. Baymax also wasn't the best at stealth missions. Hiro slid into the alleyway and peered through a dirty window. He couldn't shake the sense of deja vu as he remembered how he and the robotic nurse had tracked down his missing microbots a year ago at a similar warehouse. They had both been nearly killed by Callaghan when the villain had caught them snooping around. He would prefer to avoid such a scenario again.

"It doesn't look like anyone is here." He said.

"See any ninja robots?" Fred asked as he also pushed by to get a look, pressing his nose against the glass.

"No… Fred, this may be a dead end. Trina already raided the place and no doubt this Bosu would have abandoned the hideout if it was compromised."

Fred pouted, "Maybe… Buuuut, we could always man a stake-out and find out for sure!"

"Fred, I have homework to do. Maybe some oth-"

"Oh please! Just for an hour, or two? Please, please, please? Pretty please? I'll do your homework for you."

"I don't want you doing my homework."

"Okay, chores then; I'll wash Varian's dirty socks and underwear for a… a week… no, a month! Come on, I know how much you hate doing laundry."

Hiro sighed and watched his friend crawl on his knees and beg. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yeeeesss."

"Okay, and no, you don't have to do the laundry either."

Hiro turned to walk out of the alley and Fred got up and followed him.

"That's good, cause I don't actually know how to wash clothes. Usually, Heathcliff does all the laundry. Last time I tried to, I just flooded the washroom."

"Do you have any survival skills? Like at all?"

"Nope. Unless it's kicking bad guys' butts! Ooh, hey, we can host the stake-out at Louie's across the street. I'm starved."

                                               ---------------------------

Hiro and Fred took up a window booth inside the restaurant. The establishment had recovered from the police raid from a few months back and was now serving food as usual; though Hiro had already spotted the advertisement for the next upcoming 'bot fight.

A couple of hours past and they had both eaten their meals, plus dessert, along with Fred going back for seconds. Now they were both nursing a couple of cups of coffee, though Hiro's was going cold; it wasn't great coffee.

"Fred…"

"Yeah."

"It's been three hours now."

"I know."

"No one's showed up."

"Not yet."

"Look it's been… 'fun', but I'm going home now."

Hiro got up to leave but Fred grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Oh but… uhh… we haven't even tried the uh… hot dog sushi special. I hear it's really good."

Hiro leaned his head back slowly and closed his eyes in frustration. He didn't want to snap at Fred, really he didn't, but he was quickly losing his patience.

"Fred… no one is coming. Let's just call it a night and try again some other time. Okay." And with that he yanked his hand away and began to walk off.

Fred didn't follow. Instead he sat in the booth, his eyes downcast, staring blankly at nothing. It wasn't his usual pout either. It was something else. Some deeper sadness that few saw from the usually optimistic teen.

Hiro began to worry. He walked back, and stood there waiting for Fred to jump back up all excited again for his return, only he didn't.

"Fred, what's wrong?"

Fred sighed but couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Look, I know that this superhero business is important to you, so much so that you'll probably wind up making a career out of it, which is great, but the rest of us are not going to be doing this for the rest of our lives. We also have to keep up with our studies, chores, our jobs, and what little shred of a social life we have."

"That's not it… I mean yeah, it's a part of it, but that's not why I asked you to come along."

Fred finally looked Hiro in the eye and tears threatened to spill.

"I just miss my best friend, okay."

Hiro looked at him confused.

"I didn't want to say anything, cause… cause he's your brother and I didn't think you'd want to be reminded about him being gone any more than you already have… but today has just been really hard… remembering what happened… I just thought getting out and doing something fun, getting both our minds off everything, might be better than just… just being alone. You know? Especially today."

Fred didn't even have to say Tadashi's name for Hiro to know who he was talking about.

Hiro sighed and slumped back down into the booth.

"I'm sorry…. I… I guess I just… I don't know. I didn't think...."

"No… no, don't. Of course you didn't think. I mean who wants to be reminded of that. The whole idea was to not think about it. And I just ruined it all by bringing it up. Gah…. I'm so sorry."

Fred put his arms over his head and brought his knees up to his chest as if trying to make himself as physically small as he felt. Hiro just had to laugh at the sight in spite of himself.

"It's okay Fred. You're not going to upset me just by talking about Tadashi."

Fred peaked his head out from between his arms. "I'm not?"

"No. I mean he was your friend too."

"My best friend! Man, Tadashi and I, we got up to all sorts of trouble. He was always down for anything. I mean, did he tell you about the time we crashed my cousin's bar mitzvah? As in, we literally crashed. He drove the sport's car into the buffet table by mistake… We couldn't find the parking and then there was this wet patch in the parking lot and we skidded… Oh and then there was the time Mole dared us to a drag race using scooters and Tadshi had the idea to attach rockets to mine and I went flying.. I tell ya, man, Mole wouldn't live it down for a whole week after. He kept demanding a rematch, but I mean it was fair. He was using his butler to ride for him in his place."

Hiro could barely contain his laughter, "Wait… wait… you and Tadashi did all this?"

"Yeah."

"Why have I never heard of any of this before?"

"I don't know, but he's the whole reason why I got the mascot job in the first place. I knew I could never get into the school myself, but I thought we could hang out together more if I went. He's also the one that introduced me to everybody else."

"Then how did you two meet?"

"Oh at the grocery store."

Fred said this as if it was the most obvious of explanations but Hiro looked as confused as ever. So Fred continued on.

"He was there getting chewing gum and I was buying a shopping cart. Like an actual shopping cart."

"Why?"

"Yeah that's what he asked too. So I told him, 'I'm going to ride down Dead Man's Hill in one.' And he said, 'Dude, that's so rad. You're totally going to die.' And I said, 'Yeah, I know. You wanna join?' And he did. We rode all the way down from the top of Lumbar Street to the docks… and landed right in the bay. It was awesome! We screamed our heads off the whole time. It was so awesome, in fact, that we walked back to the store and bought another cart just to do it again. That was back when we were both still in high school, and we've been best buds ever since. You know… until…"

Hiro looked at Fred sadly. There so much about his brother that hadn't known about, hadn't even thought to ask. What else had Tadashi not shared with him? Probably a lot, I mean why tell your kid brother about your social life? And there's no way that he'd have brought those crazy stunts up around Aunt Cass.

"I never knew any of that… Those are some really cool stories. Thanks for sharing them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you know, you don't have to drag me on some superheroing mission just to hang out and talk."

Fred looked guilty at that.

"I… I know… but it's like what you and Wasabi have been saying. Everyone else has something… something to motivate them, and y'all all do all these really cool things and I'm… I'm just me. I don't really have anything but superheroing. Unless you just need someone to make a mess."

"That's not true. Fred, you're great at a lot of things. You could go to school or get a job, if you wanted to. I just thought superheroing was all you wanted."

"Hiro, I can't even do laundry without messing up. I mean all you do is throw the clothes into a machine and push a button, and yet somehow I managed to screw even that up. All I know is comic books, and superheroing, and I'm not even the best at that! What would I even go to college for? I can't… I'm not a genius. I'm not a businessman. I'm not an accountant, or an artist, or an athlete. I'm not anything. I've no talent. I'm not even good at being rich. I've never fit in with the socialite crowd."

"Fred."

"Yeah?"

"You're good at being a friend, and if I have to sit here list off everything else you're good at then we'd be here for another three hours or more. So how about we head home and tomorrow I'll show you how to work a washing machine, and you can teach me how a stake-out is supposed to really go cause we're not getting anywhere here."

"Or are we?"

"What do you mean?"

Fred was no longer looking at Hiro but past him. He pointed to the window behind Hiro, and Hiro turned around to see for himself.

An elderly gentleman, dressed in an old fashioned military outfit, complete with a monocle, was entering the warehouse. He had a giant mechanical arm and a steam boiler strapped to his back.

"Baron Von Steamer."

                                               ---------------------------

Fred and Hiro found themselves standing in the alley peering through the warehouse's dirty windows for a second time that day. They saw Baron Von Steamer stomping around inside. He seemed irritated as he grumbled to himself and knocked boxes out of the way, as if searching for something.

"What's he doing?" Fred loudly whispered.

Just then Steamer found what he was looking for, a tea cup. He poured himself a cup out of a teapot he had placed on an old fashioned stove that was hidden towards the back and then sat down on top of a crate to sip his drink.

"It must be 'tea time' for him." Hiro said dryly.

Fred narrowed his eyes, "I bet he's just hatching his next nefarious scheme. Planning on how to take us and the city down. What do you think he wants with portals?"  

Just then Steamer stood up and ruefully kicked away a busted up robot that had fallen out of a storage crate in his previous hunt for the tea cup.

"I don't think Steamer is our guy." Hiro said, "He hates modern technology, so why would he build ninja robots? Also, like you said, what would he want with portals? All he's after is your dad, and so far the Bosu hasn't gone after Boss Awesome yet."

"But they might. Remember what Roddy said? That Kensei guy used to be active during Dad's heyday but never got caught. What if, it's because Steamer had two villain identities!"

"That seems like a stretch."

"Okay, well, what if Steamer works for this Bosu? Like Sue and Sparkles?"

"That's more plausible, I guess."

Hiro turned to peer through the window again, but Streamer was gone.

'Wait, where did he go?'

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pair of interlopers." A curt British voice  came from behind them.

Steamer must have noticed them and snuck around the back, cutting them off.

Hiro grabbed his phone in order to call his super suit, but Von Steamer nabbed his hand and yanked him off the ground, causing him to lose hold of his phone.

Fred was just as unfortunate, as Steamer held him in a choke hold in his metal arm.

"Waaaait," Steamer said as he eyed them both up closely, peering at them through his oversized monocle, "I know you two. You're friends of Boss Awesome's baby child!"

"I am Boss Awesome's baby child!" Fred protested before Von Steamer gave him a hard squeeze with his cyborg arm. Fred wheezed in pain.

Hiro reacted quickly and kicked the steampunk baron in the shins.

Von Steamer howled in pain and dropped Hiro in surprise, though he managed to keep his grip on Fred. He also had stepped on Hiro's phone while nursing his injured leg.

Hiro ducked and ran as Steamer regained his senses and pulled out a brass gun that was connected to the boiler on his back with a hose. He pulled the trigger and scalding steam shot out. Hiro ducked again to avoid it.

As he ran out of the alley way he heard Steamer shouting after him, "Yes, run back to Boss Awesome little one. Tell his baby child I have their friend, and either he, or they, must show up to face me or else!"

Hiro spared a glace backwards and saw Baron Von Steamer dragging Fred back into the warehouse.

"Fred!"

"Hiro!" Fred called out to him before being pulled into the darkness.

Hiro panicked. What could he do? Finally, he decided that getting help was the best option. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, fighting back his worry.

[btsmakesmehappy]

Sweet Scent | 4

Genre: Agent au. Colleague au. Mutual pining. Angst with Fluff at the end

Pairing: Agent!Jungkook x Forensic Doctor!reader

Word Count: 10k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: reader feels a little insecure. reader is held on a gun point. (Not too explicit) violence. Guns. Reader and JK are hurt. Angsty with fluffly ending. I think it’s all? (Please tell me if I miss something!)

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | completed

Summary: Why does he always look so nervous in front of you? Is it because of your excessive flirting? But how come you don’t tease him when he looks so incredibly cute every time he blushes?

Series Masterlist: The Company

A/N: Thank you for @arizonapoppy for betareading mine. You’re the best! Also the next part (sequel/drabble) will be posted next year just so the timeline makes more sense. So the next update will be the other member <3 Hope you enjoy!

Send an ASK if you want to be added in the taglist!

A knock on the door made you turn your head in confusion. You’re not expecting anyone right now. It’s almost nine o’clock in the night, and the building should be emptied by now, it’s past the office-hours.

Maybe a new case?

With the thought of that, your smile was beaming. You rose from the chair quickly and walked to the door. It’s the person behind the door that made you thank God that you decided to stay late at the Company.

Jeon Jungkook.

It’s been a month since you saw him in the firing range. You’re hoping to meet him again somewhere in the building, especially the cafeteria (because there is some information that you’d find him there), but you’ve never got the chance. The funniest thing was the other colleagues always found him there, except you. It’s just like destiny didn’t want you to meet him.

You believed in destiny. You believed in the universe.

You believed in the fall-in-love -at-the-first-sight. You believed in there’s sparks when you grazed someone's hand. You believed in the fallen books when you bumped the one in the corner of the street. You believed in the stranger sitting beside you on the plane while you’re travelling.

But unluckily for you, that’s never happened.

Still, you tried to believe in destiny, hoping to get some of it in your life.

After a month sitting in the cafeteria, waiting to bump a certain someone there, you’re getting tired of waiting for destiny. Well, even though you’d met him, would you still call it destiny? Weren’t you forcing it?

Which is why, it’s so weird how the universe just sent him to you that day. The day when you skipped washing your hair for the four days because you overslept and you’d tie it into a bun anyway. The day when your eyebrow pencil suddenly went missing. The day when you ate tomato pasta and dropped it on your shirt, leaving your white shirt with a huge red stain on the chest.

Why should it be that day?

Maybe the universe hated you.

“Y/N, right?”

His voice rang like a church bell, ringing through your ears and shaking your entire body. It’s almost magical that he sounded like an angel, and you longed him.

You couldn’t remember how long you looked at him, as his face turned red and uncomfortable. “He-Hello?” He timidly asked.

You shook your head quickly, “Ah, sorry. What can I do for you?” You opened the door widely as you gestured to him to come inside.

But Jungkook stayed in his spot, outside the doorway. He lowered his head to look at the paper in his hand, refusing to look at your eyes. “I need a report from the Ahn case.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning to the door frame. “About that, I don’t think it will be done by tomorrow. As you know Doctor Lee is still sick, so there’s no one to finalize the report.”

Jungkook bites his lips and sighed. “Yeah, I heard. Can you just- you know what, nevermind. Thank you.”

He bowed to you slightly and walked away. Even his body was that bulky, you could see how tired he was from behind. And somehow it hit a soft spot in your heart.

And maybe, you just wanted to be with him.

“Hey!” You yelled, he turned his back to you in confusion. “Do you want to see the report for a bit?”

Three days.

Three days you rejected every call from Jungkook. Three days you ignored all the knocks at the door from him. Three days you deleted all the messages he sent without even reading them. Three days.

And by Friday, you’re back to work, only because your days off are over. And unfortunately for you, Jungkook knows it too. It’s about time for you two to meet each other. It’s about time for you to stop avoiding him.

So, on that same day, you wake earlier than usual, leaving your apartment earlier than usual, but still go to work as late as you can. You hide at the bakery near the Company, eating a chocolate croissant, drawing it out by pulling it into flakey pieces, procrastinating.

You still can’t meet him yet. You don’t want to.

You walk as fast as you can to the elevator when you arrive at the Company. You look left and right as you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for the elevator. This elevator is taking so long.

“Y/N!”

You tense as you hear your name, looking timidly to the source of the voice. Please don’t be Jungkook, please. And when you look at the man standing behind you, you sigh in relief. “Hey, Jimin. What’s up?”

“How are you doing? Why do you look so pale? See a ghost?” Jimin asks while resting his arm on your shoulder.

You laugh awkwardly. “Ah really? Maybe just from the lack of sleep.”

He looks at you weirdly. “You literally had days off, why did you have a lack of sleep?”

You clear your throat, there is no way you would tell him about what happened and how it bothered your sleep so much. How his best friend and colleague is the reason for your tiredness. “Just some Netflix. Catching some dramas.”

“Really? What drama did you watch?” He asks excitedly.

“Uhh. Itaewon Class?” You let it slip your mouth. You don’t even know what the drama is about, only heard the title from Sehun a week ago.

Jimin looks at you with widened eyes and takes a step backward. “Well, I shouldn’t be too close with you then. I don’t want to be spoiled. I haven’t watched all of the episodes.”

You smile. “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” In the corner of your eyes you can see a familiar man walking to both of you, a man that you want to avoid. Somehow in the middle of a busy lobby, your eyes were still drawn to Jungkook. He still doesn’t see you, which is good news. Checking the elevator, you hiss softly because it is still on the eleventh floor. Too long. “Anyway, I’m gonna have a call first. See you later!” You walk away from Jimin, without spending another glance. You need to get out of there, fast.

You still can’t see him yet.

Lucky for you, you decided to wear sneakers today. At least you can run four flights of stairs without being afraid of sprained ankles.

“Hey Kook!” Jimin calls and waves excitedly. “Overslept?”

Jungkook smiles weakly. “You can say that.” Lie. In fact, he woke up earlier than usual and he went to your apartment, and after two hours of waiting in front of your apartment like a persistent stalker, he finally realized that you’d already left the apartment. But Jimin doesn’t need to know that.

Jimin nods in understanding. “Oh, you know who’s come back to the Company? Y/N! Apparently her days off have ended. Actually, she was here just now.”

“Really?” Jungkook asks with widened eyes. “Where is she now?”

Jungkook’s reaction catches Jimin off-guard. The way Jungkook finally shows some interests in you, makes Jimin happy. “Well.. She said that she’s calling someone. You know, since you can’t have a phone call inside the elevator. But I don’t know where she is.”

Jungkook looks around him, but he still can’t find you. A thought drifts into his head, that you saw him and still didn’t want to meet him. And with that thought, he feels a stab in his heart.

Jungkook, you’re so stupid. You’re drunk stupid.

He wants to hit himself. Oh, he would if he can, especially in front of you. Not that he wants to show off or something, he just wants you to know how terrible and bad he feels about what he’s done. He even swore himself that he won’t get drunk ever again.

You stupid drunk jerk.

Even if you wanted to see him, what should he say? He hasn’t thought about it, and yet he called, messaged, and came to your apartment for three days in desperation.

“Kook?” Jimin asks warily. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Ah. yes. I’m okay.”

Jimin sends a mischievous smile to Jungkook. “You want to run after Y/N, don’t you?” he asks as the elevator finally arrives at their floor.

Jungkook looks at his feet and decides to step into the elevator. If she still doesn’t want to see me, there’s no point for me to force her. “Nah. I don’t want to.”

Lie.

How he wants to see you so much. So damn much it’s hurting him.

“Well-well, who’s there?” Sehun turns his chair to see you, still controlling your breath in front of the door. ”Why are you out of breath?”

“Stairs.” You roll your eyes as you wipe the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. You really need to work out sometimes, not just sitting and living a sedentary lifestyle.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “The elevator is broken?”

You shake your head weakly and sit on your chair. “Just need a little exercise.”

Sehun squints at your face and hums, realizing something is not right about you. “How are you? Okay?”

You nod and sigh. “Yeah.” You send him a weak smile. You look at your desk, it’s clean but you can still see the horrible image burned in your mind. It’s kinda hard for you to just delete it from your memory. Besides, it happened less than a week ago.

“Oh, I also finished your report. I was thinking that at least we should send an actual report, even though the investigation fell apart. What do you think?”

“What? I’m sorry. What are we talking about?” you ask, looking lost.

Sehun sends an assuring smile. “This report. We should send it to the agents. Don’t you think?”

You fiddle the corner of your shirt. “Yeah, I think we should.”

“You want to give it to them?” Sehun asks again. You bite your lips, your mind wanders. Seeing your sudden silence, Sehun rises from his seat and taps your shoulder lightly. “Actually, just stay here. I’ll take it to them.”

You watch his back disappearing from your sight. Again, you’re alone in this office. This office, your second home, but you barely feel comfortable sitting here. The scent of coffee you usually make every day is absent, since Sehun never drinks coffee in the office. You only detect the lemon scent from the air refresher in the corner. It’s supposed to be relaxing but instead, it makes your heart beat rapidly.

You feel sad.

Jungkook sighs again at his desk for God knows how many times. And everytime he sighs, it is just getting louder.

It begins to irritate the other agents around him. Especially since they haven’t been assigned to another case yet. To them, The Case of The Young Man in Distress, is their new case, and it somehow excites them.

Hoseok steals a glance at Taehyung and Jimin, sending signals right then and there. After they nod, they roll their chairs closer to Jungkook’s desk. “What’s up with you, Kook?” Hoseok starts.

Jungkook stares at the screen of his laptop, hands continually moving his mouse without any intention. “I’m fine.”

Taehyung snorts. “No, you’re not. Tell us what happened.”

“I’m fineeee.”

The older men share another look between them, they all look so concerned about Jungkook, but what can they do if Jungkook shuts his own mouth, let alone his feelings?

Jimin notices that their office door is open and yells deliberately loud. “Oh. Here’s our favorite forensic doctor!” It makes Jungkook flinch and Jimin sees Jungkook trying to steal a glance at the door and takes a deep sigh. “Our Sehun-ie. What can we do for you?”

“Just delivering some reports.” Sehun looks at the agents crowding Jungkook’s desk and points directly to Jungkook. “What’s wrong with him?” The agents shrug simultaneously.

“We are trying to find out. Wanna join?” Hoseok pulls another chair beside him, tapping the seat, gesturing to him to sit.

Sehun throws the report on the desk. “I want to. But I also need to find out what happened to my staff too.” Sehun turns his back and waves to them over his shoulder. “She looks troubled and unfocussed. Bad day, I think. See you, then.”

With the sudden drop of information, the three of them look at Jungkook’s reaction, who freezes in his seat. Something must have happened with the two of you.

Jimin asks cautiously. “Did something happen with Y/N?”

“Maybe on the day when you went missing after drinking with Yoongi?” Taehyung adds, which makes the older guys look at him questioningly. “Yoongi-hyung told me.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, instead he sighs and runs his hand through his hair in exasperation. The other agents know that they hit a sore spot. He bites his lips, hesitant to talk to them, but on the other hand, he doesn’t know what to do. Everything he chose seems like a wrong choice. Everything he does seems to push you away even further. “I-I just don’t know what I should do, Hyung.”

Hoseok pats Jungkook’s shoulder softly. “Tell us in detail. We’ll help you.”

And just like that, everything opened in public, well, to his best friends. How his heart feels weird whenever he sees you. How his heart ached when he saw you hurt. How you looked so weak and pained and disappointed when he took you home. How he went to your apartment drunk. How he wanted to apologize to you. How he kissed you drunk and how you pushed him back. How his heart crashed when he saw you cry, sobbing on the floor.

They listen to his story carefully, patting his shoulder several times when he looks like he’s going to burst into tears.

“And now, she doesn’t want to see me. I’ve been trying for three days.”

The silence falls in the room, it is interrupted when Jimin hits Jungkook’s head lightly. “Aigoo, you are an adult now. Stupid, but still, I’m just so proud of how you grew this fast.” Jimin smiles and hugs Jungkook lightly.

Jungkook whines. “Hyung, that’s not the point. What should I do?”

Taehyung suddenly raises his hand in the air. “Wait a minute, if Y/N really likes Jungkook, why did she push him away like that?”

“Well, y’know,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “you didn’t exactly get her permission before you kissed her.”  

Hoseok held his hand up, silencing Jimin and Taehyung. “She might have thought that you just did it out of guilt.” Hoseok says softly. “Or maybe a pity, just a mere responsibility.”

“What?” Jungkook looks at him weirdly.

Hoseok explains further, “You know like a novel, when you hit someone with a car, and he/she lost their ability to walk, so you just decide to be with them? Or remember when you spilled coffee on my report and you decided to write it yourself and also bought me a pair of sneakers?”

“But I didn’t do those things to her out of guilt.” He gulps. “I-I don’t hate her. I don’t even know why I did it.”

Jimin smiles again widely, his eyes turn into crescents. “Are you sure you don’t know? I know that deep down, you know it.”

“Just tell her sincerely then about what you don’t know.” Taehyung smiles and puts his hand on Jungkook’s head, ruffling his hair softly.

Jungkook sighs again. “She doesn’t want to see me.”

“If she really likes you, she’ll come around, Kook.” Hoseok smiles and hugs the younger man. “Now, go find her!”

Jungkook looks at him with widened eyes. “Like, now?”

“Of course, silly. The faster the better.” Jimin laughs. “Go!”

“I don’t know what to say to her, I don’t prepare anything.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook in disbelief. “What do you want? A teleprompter? Just tell her your feelings, dumbass!”

Weirdly enough, Jungkook rises from his seat and takes off running, leaving his cubicle empty. “I thought you bet that Jungkook won’t end up with her, hyung?” Jimin teases.

Hoseok scratches the back of his neck and smiles. “The moment he told us what happened to him just showed who’s gonna win the bet. And besides, I just want him to be happy.”

Taehyung moves his chair back to his desk. “How about we change our bet to another topic then? We have plenty of subjects to bet about.”

You rack your brain, trying to find a place where you won’t meet Jungkook. And after mentally listing the places, you decided to hide in the infirmary. It’s unused and no one is gonna be there. So you can hide for a moment. Just like when you’re in high school, you fake a stomach ache, just so you can get some sleep or when you forgot to bring your math textbook.

Well, five minutes of sleep are considered a privilege then, as you hear the door opened.

You look from inside a curtain, trying to identify the man who just came in with a cart full of cleaning supplies. Cleaning service? The man quietly sweeps the floor skillfully, and you suddenly feel that you shouldn’t be there, as you’re just gonna disturb his job. Just as you open the curtain harshly, you tilt your head in confusion. “Jin?”

Jin looks at you in surprise, almost dropping the broom on his hand. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Resting,” you say with an awkward smile. “What are you doing here? What’s with the broom and the gloves?”

Jin sighs and turns away from you, continuing to sweep the floor. “Cleaning.”

“Do you do this every day?” It’s just so weird for such an elite agent doing some cleaning in this place. Especially, since the Company also hires a cleaning service.

“No. Just every few days. Since it’s not used, it doesn’t get dirty that fast. I just clean this room when the cleaning service has their day off.” Jin answers lightly as he picks a towel to wipe the surface of the table.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my hobby,” Jin pauses and looks at the white wall. “or maybe I just hope that she’ll come back. You know right that she hates dust?” He laughs awkwardly. He clears his throat and looks at you warily. “Are-are you still in touch with her?”

“No.” You look at him quietly, somehow you can see his pain from his wide shoulder. It’s been a few years, but Jin is still hung up on her, still missing her. “Are you okay?” you ask cautiously.

Jin scoffs and walks away again, wiping the cabinet this time, “why? Do I look pathetic?”

You shake your head softly. “No. But you look broken-hearted.”

He turns his head to face you, looking into your eyes. “Well, so do you.”

Your jaw clenches, like how he hit your spot correctly. Tears threaten to fall down and you try to stop it by biting your lips. At the moment, you feel weaker and sad. You sigh and look at your feet. “What’s new?” you laugh dryly.

Jin puts away his supplies and removes his gloves as he walks to you, and plops on the bed beside you. “What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I was just thinking that mayb-”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there. You’re not thinking. It’s an assumption.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Wh-what?”

He sighs, “Whatever your problem was, and whoever he was, you’re overthinking this.”

“You don’t even know what the problem is.”

“I don’t. But I believe that you need to talk to him regardless of what the problem is, not talk to your mind, making assumptions. You know, the key to a healthy relationship is communication, and it applies to every relationship. Business, family, or even Love.” Jin sends you a smile. “Just talk to him. The misunderstanding won’t solve itself.”

You sigh again. “What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not a misunderstanding but a mistake?”

“Then talk a little more. Apologize if you need to. Forgive if you still want to be with him.” Jin stops, and swallows slowly. His voice cracks. “Fight for it, if it is worth fighting for, until you can’t fight anymore. Until you don’t have any regrets.”

You look at him carefully. You’ve never talked to him ever since you worked in the Company, let alone seeing his eyes like this. But now, you can see how he’s deep in pain. And you understand what he talked about. His experience. The thoughts of what he should have done before. The choices he regrets now.

You hop from the bed and walk to the door. “Thank you. I’ll try.” As you walk closer to the door, you turn to face him again. “She must have a reason, Jin. I don’t know what it was, but she would never hurt you.”

“I know.” Jin answers quickly. He darts his eyes away from you so that he can hide his watering eyes, and smiles. “So does Jungkook.”

I know.

You walk out from the elevator, squeezing your body from the others inside. It’s lunch time already, and you’re lucky enough that you can slip into the crowded elevator.

Seventh floor is quiet, but not as deserted as the last time you went there. You look around you, hoping to see a particular person. The one you need to see. The one you miss.

You sigh, heart thumping inside your chest. You’re not gonna lie that you’re nervous, and that’s not because of the thought of seeing Jungkook again. It’s the thought, an assumption, of what he’s gonna say. You’re afraid of hearing his reason, afraid that it’ll break your heart even more.

A little part of you tells you that it’s better this way, and just move on. But you realize, playing hide and seek with him won’t solve any problem. It will just hurt you, or both of you. If you need to move on from him, at least there’s no loose ends. And Jungkook deserves a chance to explain everything to you, in person.

“Y/N?”

You turn your head to the man calling you and sigh disappointedly. “Oh, hey Yoongi.”

Yoongi laughs a little. “Why do you always bump into me when you’re looking for Jungkook?” Yoongi looks more professional since the last time you met him, maybe because he’s sober right now, or because he wears a neat suit instead of his black hoodie.

You smile, feeling embarrassed that you’ve been found out. “How do you know that I’m looking for him?”

He shrugs, “nah, I just feel that there’s something about you two that needs to be finished.”

“Oh. I see.” You divert your gaze from him, “So, where can I find him?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know. I just came here.” He stretches his pale arms and continues, “y’know, overslept. Actually, maybe Jungkook is in the training room. He usually trains himself when he feels stressed about something.”

Your jaw clenches with the sudden information, forcing yourself to smile once more. “Thank you, I’ll get going then.”

You nod and walk again to the elevator, just the moment it arrives. When you’re inside the elevator, Yoongi yells to you, “He feels bad, Y/N---” You can only hear a snatch from him as the door closes, stopping you from hearing the full sentence.

I know.

You’ve been pacing the corridor for almost fifteen minutes, staring at the men’s locker room door. You perk your head to the door, every time it opens. And every time you do it, you’re left with another disappointment. Not to mention, all of the other male agents stare at a suspicious woman who’s lurking in front of a locker room.

Except one agent.

“Doctor Y/N?”

You’re leaning on the wall while massaging your calves. You squint in order to see the man approaching you better. “Kim Namjoon?”

Namjoon pauses in front of you, sending a warm smile. He’s drying his hair with the towel and his other hand holds a gym bag. “Yes, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly to you. Please just call me Namjoon.” He drops his bag to the ground clumsily, making some of his things flow out from the unzippered bag, reaching out his hand to shake yours. “I’m afraid that Jungkook is not here.”

Your eyes widen. “Ho-how do you know that I’m looking for him?”

He laughs and drops to one knee to gather his fallen things. “Just a little guess. A little bird told me that you’ve been working with him, so, yeah, I just thought that it might be a work thing.”

“Have you seen him anywhere then?” you sigh.

“I’m afraid not, Doc. I’ve been in the training room since dawn, haven’t seen him anywhere near here.” Namjoon smiles apologetically as he hangs his bag over his shoulder. “Have you checked the pool? He’s been wanting to practice diving since our last mission in Hawaii.”

You shake your head softly. “I haven’t, I’m gonna check there then. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Doc. You see, Jungkook is sometimes a little hard to talk to, looks distant, shy, and confused, maybe because he joined us at such an early age, but he is a nice guy.” Namjoon laughs again as he walks away from you, leaving you standing alone in the corridor.

I know.

Jungkook walks quickly to your office as soon as the elevator opens on your floor. He still doesn’t know what to say, but he just can’t let you escape him, avoid him again. He will use everything he’s got to at least explain a thing or two to you, and if the universe accedes, maybe he can tell you a little part of his feelings. Or maybe more.

Just one step at a time, Jungkook. You can do this.

It’s weird how he feels more nervous right now than when he goes to a mission. Usually he can just barge through any door without feeling any fear, but right now? He can feel how his heart almost bursts inside his chest. Is that because he doesn’t have his gun with him? Or is it because you are on the other side of the door?

He sighs. He doesn’t know anymore.

Maybe it is because he doesn’t know anything that is going to happen when he opens the door. Maybe it is because his brain can’t work for another plan B if his original plan fails. Maybe it is because it is a do or die for him, sounds a little extreme, but actually this is maybe the last chance for him to let his feelings take control of him.

Mustering all of his courage, he knocks the door and opens it slowly. “Excuse me?”

A chair suddenly rolls from the desk. “Hey JK. What’re you doin’ here?” Sehun asks and looks at him quizzically. “Is there something wrong with the report?”

Jungkook shakes his head rapidly. “That’s not why I’m here.” He swallows dryly. “I’m looking for Y/N..”

“Y/N?” Sehun raises one of his eyebrows. “Funny you asked that. The fact is I haven’t seen her anywhere since I went to your office.”

“Really? Okay then, I’ll just search for her somewhere else.” Jungkook nods politely and walks to the door.

“Why don’t you just call her?” Sehun asks loudly.

Jungkook looks at him, and gives him a weak smile. Sehun doesn’t need to know that you’ve been avoiding Jungkook’s calls, right? “Thank you, I’ll try.”

After he closes the door, Jungkook walks to the stairwell next to him. With a sigh he sits on one of the stairs. He pulls his phone from his pocket, looking at it like it’s a foreign thing to him. His finger scrolls to the contacts and looks for your name.

There’s no specific thing to describe your name in his contact. And by specific, it means you aren’t saved in his contacts. The only thing that describes you is your phone number, which he memorizes already because of how much time he spent looking at it and how many times he tried to call you in the past few days.

He looks again in his contacts. It’s less than a dozen. The only contacts in his phone are his parents, his brother, and his best friends. That’s it.

He remembers when he received your message for the first time, he almost accidentally deleted it because he received it at the same time he received another spam message. Only God knows what would happen if he deleted it for real. Would you still get hurt? Would you still want to tease him? Would it still be the same?

Or would he still have this growing feeling inside him?

He sighs and then inputs your phone number, but before he dials it, he chooses another option.

Add to new contact.

Name: Y/N

Save?

Saved

Jungkook looks at his newly added contact and finally dials your number, hoping that you would accept it this time. Hoping that somehow his sincere feelings felt through the rings on your phone. Hoping that he can say the right things this time.

And after the seventh rings, the call went through.

Jungkook can finally hear your voice. “Hello, Y/N?” There’s a silence on the other end of the phone for a little while. It begins to make him more nervous. “Y/N?”

“Jungkook?” but it’s not your voice. It’s a familiar voice for him that he hears a lot.

Jungkook looks at the screen, makes sure he got the correct phone number. He furrows his eyebrow, confused at why you didn’t answer your own phone. “Jin-Hyung?”

“Right.” Jin laughs. “Y/N left her phone in the infirmary. She just went out to look for you.”

“Oh.” Jungkook sighs in relief. “Wh-what? She’s looking for me?”

“Yes, kid. God, I don’t know what your problem is to make both of you playing hide and seek in the middle of the day, but yes, she’s looking for you right now. But I don’t really know where she went.”

A little smile plastered on Jungkook’s face, somehow he feels a little happy that you finally decided to give him a chance to explain himself. And with only that fact, he won’t lose this chance. “Thanks Hyung! Talk to you later!”

“Yah-”

Jungkook hangs his phone up, and stands up immediately. But if he just walks around and looks for you in this big building, it is just a waste of time. There’s a fat chance that he won’t meet you at all, and in this crucial time for him, he can’t rely on fate alone.

So, he taps his phone again, scrolling to find a chatting platform that he rarely uses, and looks for a group chat with his best friends, typing quickly and hits the send button. This time he’s gonna rely on his friends.

Jungkook 00.23 PM: Have you seen Y/N?

You open the heavy door to the pool area with an afraid look on your face. What if Jungkook suddenly appears before you? What would you do? What would you say? What if he doesn’t want to see you?

But luckily (or unlucky for you), there’s no one in the pool. Everyone must be taking their lunch time, leaving this place completely empty.

You sigh and walk around, deciding to look at this place a little more. Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook will suddenly pop out of nowhere, hugging you from behind like some of the rom-com movies that you usually watched in your teen years.

A sudden loud bang of a door opening filled the place, making you turn your head abruptly, hoping that the universe finally sends some signals to you. But instead, you just see a man pushing a cleaning supplies cart. You are disappointed.

Why do you even feel disappointed? There’s only a little chance for Jungkook to just walk through the door. You laugh to yourself and shake your head. Maybe I should just call him.

You pat your pants to locate your phone, and a little panic goes through you as you can’t find your phone. Where is it? Did I drop it? You try to remember when the last time you used your phone. You usually don’t behave like this; for you, your phone is one of your most important things. You never walk without a phone as you have everything you need in that mini gadget. Maybe this Jungkook thing is really bothering me.

You turn and walk to the door hurriedly, you need to find your phone back and also Jungkook. You can’t just wait mindlessly in here. Just when your hand reaches the door knob, you sense the cleaning man walking to you.

“Are you Doctor Y/N?”

You look at the man, sending him a polite nod. “Ah yes. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb your job here, I’m going now.” The man looks like he is in his early 30s. You can’t really see his face, since it’s hidden with his blue baseball cap. He wears a blue jumpsuit, a usual uniform for the cleaning service. But why does it look like it’s too big for him?

The man smiles back. “Oh my. That’s fine. Actually I have a package for you.” The man rummages through his cart, searching for something. “From a man, named Jungkook, I think? He’s been searching for you.”

“Jungkook?” ears perk in curiosity.

He smiles again, almost a grin. “Yes.” the man laughs at himself as he pulls a black metal thing from the cart and points it to you. “He’s been searching for you.”

You look at him with widened eyes. A gun. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing, sweetie?” the man laughs maniacally, the sounds send shivers to your spine, making you step back unconsciously, your back hitting the door. You move your hand behind your back, trying to locate the door knob. “Uh-uh. Do not move. I don’t want to shoot your pretty face.”

Your heart races in fear., “Wh-what do you want from me?”

“The autopsy report, where is it?”

Your jaw drops as your mind wanders to the incident last Sunday, the one that probably will leave some scars on your hands. “Were you the one who trashed my office?”

“That’s right.” The man steps a little closer and pushes the gun closer to your face. “The report. Where do you keep it?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t have it.” Tears start threatening to fall from your eyes when the man seems unsatisfied with your answer and pulls your hair harshly. “I-I gave it up.”

He pulls your hair again until you meet his eyes. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Or do you want me to start shooting everyone who comes into this room?” He laughs again. “You’re waiting for someone right? What if he suddenly pops in right now, and my hand just slips?”

You widen your eyes and you can see his eyes, and they don’t show that he’s lying. You can see how crazy he is. “I-I think it’s on the seventh floor..”

Just after he hears your answer, he releases your hair. With a sudden lack of grip, your feet give up, making you slump on the ground. “Good choice. Now stand up. We’re going to the seventh floor.”

“Bu-but I just told you. You should let me go.”

He scoffs. “And how would I know if you’re just lying to me? Stand up!” He grips your elbow harshly, forcing you to stand in front of him. You can feel his cold gun on your back, pushing to walk forward. “Don’t do anything funny, or I might shoot others. I only want this to be just the two of us.”

Your lips tremble and your throat goes dry. You wipe your tears and take a deep breath, trying to find your courage and strength to walk. You open the door with a heavy heart, wishing silently that you won’t meet anyone in the corridor and on your way up to the seventh floor.

You walk slowly to the elevator, with the man following behind you with his cart. Whispering right there to remind you that he has a gun. Your stomach twists. You want to run away. Your hands turn into fists, sending a light pain from the still-recovering wounds. Luckily, the pain happens to keep your mind intact, make you stay sane. But still, you can’t think of anything that you can do to save yourself.

Sure, you worked for months in an agent secret service. But that doesn’t mean you can do martial arts or guns. You didn’t receive any of that training. So even in this high-security building, you’re just an ordinary woman. An unlucky one.

Wait. High-security building?

You look left and right cautiously to find CCTV cameras above you, maybe someone will see this?

The man behind you laughs again. “You think I’d sneak here with no preparation? No one in the security room is going to watch this. I’ve taken care of them.”

You choke, your heart quickens. “You.. you. Wha-what? What did you do to them?”

“There’s no need for you to know, sweetie.” He laughs again. ”It’s just gonna make you feel bad.”

You bite your lips, trying your hardest to hold your tears. This man is sick. And just then, the elevator’s door opens.

You swallow dryly and walk inside the elevator. Sighing in relief again because there’s no one inside. You reach your hand shakily, trying to push the seven button on the elevator, but just as the door closes, a hand sneaks in and it opens again.

Your eyes widen with the sight of the man, panting before you. “Jungkook?” Why are you here?

Jungkook still holds open the door with his one hand as he controls his breaths. “We.. We need to talk.”

You steal a glance at the man behind you, who acts like wiping the interior of the elevator. Your hands turn clammy. Maybe Jungkook can help you. Maybe Jungkook can save you. If this is the chance that the universe sends to you, you should take it, right? It is a perfect opportunity for you to lose the man behind you.

But, what if he shoots someone? Or worse, what if he shoots Jungkook?

You take a deep breath, your eyes looking at your feet, afraid of looking at Jungkook’s face. “The-there’s nothing for us to talk about,” you say coldly, pushing his hand away from the door and pushes the close button.

But this time, Jungkook is persistent. He doesn’t want to let you slip away from him. Again. “No.” He reaches out his hand again to block the door from closing. “We have to talk. You need to hear my explanation, at least.”

“I don’t want to!!” You push him away again, this time on his body, until he steps backward from the elevator. You don’t even realize how your hands tremble against his hard chest, how tears fall on your face like a waterfall. “Please... Just leave me alone…”

You step back inside the elevator, pushing the close door button again. But this time, Jungkook lets you.

If this is the last time I can see him….

You lift your head up to take a glance of his face from the closing door. You can’t see him clearly as your eyes filled with tears, and just like that. You sob on the ground of the elevator after the door closes, clenching your chest to tone down the tightening pain you feel.

“Well-well. Such a good girl.” The man behind you claps his hand. “Don’t worry, he’ll forgive you after he knows what happened with you and what you did for him.” He reaches to touch your cheek, which makes you flinch.

“You’re just a sick bastard,” you hiss, glaring to him.

He chuckles at your response and hits your face with his gun. He grabs your chin in his hand tightly, forcing you to see his eyes. “You’re really testing my patience, aren’t you?”

You’re shaking in his hands, a throbbing pain on your forehead also makes it worse. He releases your chin harshly and forces you to stand up as the car approaches the seventh floor. He pushes his gun again harshly on your side, with his other hand holding you close to him. You can feel his nasty breath on your neck.

I’m so going to die.

As the door opens and you walk through, that thought keeps lingering on your mind and it’s growing bigger with each step you take, and you can’t seem to shake it off. You can’t do anything right now, the only thing you can do is cry in silence, hope that at least it can ease your mind for a bit. But it doesn’t.

Why?

Because you don’t fucking know where the report is, exactly.

Jungkook remains speechless, his hands trying to reach for your hands but they escape him, leaving him grabbing the empty air. He only sees you walk back inside the elevator and he’s sure that he sees your tears when your eyes meet him.

He doesn’t understand you at all. Why then did Jin tell him that you want to see him? And why now you don’t want to? His hands turn into fists. He bites his lips harshly in desperation. Where are you going anyway?

No, he can’t just stay here. He needs to chase you. He needs to talk to you. He can’t let you again. He reaches his hand to push the elevator button but he stops midway.

Wait, why is there a cleaning service today?

He furrows his eyebrow, deep in thoughts, trying to remember any details of the cleaning service he saw earlier. He only looks at the cleaning service for a bit, he knows that it is a man, but Jungkook can’t really see his face since he faced the wall. He remembers the man turned his face when the door was closing, and Jungkook can see a bit of his face under the baseball cap. And suddenly his face turns white. He curses quietly and runs to the stairwell, not bothering to take the elevator anymore.

Jungkook grabs his phone from his pocket and scrolls to find Jin’s contact as he runs multiple steps at once. This might be dangerous and he needs his other agents, if what he’s thinking is true. If what he’s been afraid of come into reality.

“Hey, Jungkook-ah. Wha-”

“I saw Baekhyun, hyung. He was in the elevator with Y/N. I think they went to the seventh floor.” He says it quickly, interrupting Jin. Jungkook silently hopes that Jin can hear it perfectly as it is muffled with his pants and breaths.

Jin’s breath hitches on the other side of the phone. “What? Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure, I just saw him at a glance. I’m heading up right now. Tell the others!”

“Alright! Be careful!” Jin says and ends the phone call.

Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket and runs again. He runs, and runs, and runs, ignoring the fact that his lungs start burning in his chest.

Please be okay.

Like a spell, he repeats it over and over again. Like a prayer, he repeats it sincerely in his heart over and over again. Like a song, it is played in his mind over and over again.

I’m not going to let him hurt her again.

Like a vow, he says with all of his life.

He’s going to protect the woman he loves.

The silence in the seventh floor sends an eerie feeling to you, making your heart racing faster. Only God knows where the hell is the others when you need them. You feel the cold gun on your side, pushing harshly against your body. It is one of the things that makes you aware of what you’re doing right now, besides a throbbing pain on your head.

Baekhyun pushes you forward again. “So, where is it?”

You freeze on the spot, your hands getting clammy. You swallow dryly. “I-I’m not sure…”

“You what?” His eyes widen in anger and he shoves your body into a wall, sending a blunt pain to your back. “You dare to lie to me?” His hands somehow move to your neck, strangling it tightly.

You’re struggling to break free from his grip, kicking right and there, using all of your strength to push his hands away. Your chest is burning due to the lack of oxygen. Tears fall from your eyes. You feel weaker the more strongly you fight back and your eyes get blurry. Your consciousness fades along with the slowing of your heart beat.

And suddenly, Baekhyun releases you as he stumbles. You drop to the ground as you struggle to breath as much as you can. You open your eyes slowly, trying to see what’s he doing and there you see he is pushed to the ground by a familiar man.

Jungkook.

Jungkook hits Baekhyun as hard as he can. Baekhyun is perplexed for a second but after he processes what’s happening he starts to fight back. Baekhyun kicks Jungkook in the stomach. The situation turns around as Jungkook is pushed under him. The sound of the fight blares in your ears, trying to wake you up. You wince in pain as you gather all of your strength to stand up. You need to find help.

“Run!” Jungkook yells as he holds Baekhyun’s body tightly.

Baekhyun snarls, using his elbow to hit Jungkook’s nose, pushing him away. Your hands shake as Baekhyun suddenly changes his view to you and charges you, not giving you a chance to run away. Baekhyun pulls his gun from his pocket and points it to you. Your feet freeze as your eyes meet Baekhyun’s. “Bitch.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight before him and curses himself. He can’t believe that Baekhyun has a gun with him and through his laxity, Jungkook didn’t strip it. Jungkook groans and stands quickly to run to you. Please be okay.

Just as Baekhyun pulls the trigger, Jungkook jumps in front of you. The bullets pierce his right chest and his stomach. His body falls to the ground because of the impact. The blood starts seeping from his body.

Your jaw drops. You’re familiar with the smell of blood. You’re familiar also with the smell of the gunpowder. And when both of them are somehow incorporated in the air, it gives you a brand new smell that’s sickening.

The tears still fall from your eyes as you flop beside Jungkook, hesitantly touching him. Just less than an hour ago, you were dreaming about meeting him in a romantic way, but now this is only tragic.  sharp pain clutches your chest, making it hard for you to breathe again. Your thoughts are only filled with Jungkook but you can’t do anything.

But Jungkook is strong, maybe one of the strongest agents in the Company. So Jungkook sits up and moves you behind him, covering you perfectly.

“Kook…” you whisper in between sobs.

Jungkook keeps you behind him with his arms slightly trembling, gently soothing your skin. “I’m okay. Just stay behind me.” Even the slightest movement of his arms makes his chest hurt even more, but Jungkook hides it in his smile. The only thing in his head is how to make you get out of here safely, and he doesn’t care about the pain. Not when you are his priority.

Jungkook slowly lets go of his hands and stands up. You see how the blood spots are getting bigger and bigger, how it affects his posture as he loses his balance lightly. And after a few deep breaths, he puts on a stance, looking at Baekhyun with furious eyes.

Baekhyun snorts. “You think you can fight me bare-handed?” He still points his gun toward the both of you.

Without answering, Jungkook leaps forward to attack Baekhyun. It leaves Baekhyun caught off guard as he begins to fire the gun carelessly. Still, it grazes Jungkook’s body as he moves closer to him.

Not only that Jungkook is one of the strongest agents in the company, he has a killer kick. It’s the one that made the Company recruit him in the first place. He rarely uses it in his fights because he rarely has a chance to have hand-to-hand combat, and even if he had a chance, he doesn’t need to use it. And if Jungkook decides to use his best skills in this fight, there’s no way for Baekhyun to win. Jungkook begins to kick him again in his stomach and tries to target his hand.

And Baekhyun knows it too. So Jungkook begins to kick him again in his stomach and tries to target his hand. While Baekhyun stumbles, he fires his last bullet.

To your direction.

It’s too late for Jungkook to realize it, to jump again in front of you. As the bullet hits your shoulder, the new pain makes you fall back from the impact. Jungkook curses and turns his body to kick Baekhyun’s hand, sending the gun flying far from them and holding his hand to throw his body, locking him in between his legs, in a way that Baekhyun can’t move.

The doors and elevator open almost at the same time, and the agents barge in to arrest Baekhyun. Finally.

“Y/N!” Hoseok runs to you and shakes your shoulders. “Are you okay?” He helps you slowly sit up, carefully not to touch your wounds.

It’s over now… You sigh in relief, but your eyes turn panic when you see Jungkook’s shirt almost turn to pinkish, a mix of his blood and his sweat. “Kook…” and just as his name falls on your lips, Jungkook stumbles and drops to the ground.

Jimin and Taehyung move quickly to Jungkook to check on him. They look panicky as they move Jungkook’s body to a gurney with the help of paramedics. ”I’m going with him to the hospital.” Jimin says to Hoseok.

Hoseok nods and turns his face to you, his eyes falling on your bloodied shoulder. “Let’s get you to the hospital too.” He holds your elbow softly, helping you stand.

And just like that, everything turns black.

You open your eyes slowly. The harsh lights blind you and you blink as you adjust to it. You are met by the white ceiling above and white curtains all around you. The familiar smell of disinfectant steals into your nose, waking you up even more. You try to move your arms, to help you sit up, but there’s a shooting pain to your right shoulder. “Argh.”

“Yah. Y/N, you can’t move that carelessly!” Jimin yells as he puts his hand behind your back to help you.

You shake your head softly. “I’m okay. Where’s Jungkook?”

“He’s in his room. The surgery went well. Don’t worry.” Jimin says reassuringly and pushes your shoulder lightly to make you stay in the bed.

But you refuse, swinging your legs slowly over the edge of your bed. “I want to see him..” You use your left hand to hold the IV poll. But as your feet land on the floor, your body stumbles. Luckily, Jimin was holding you from falling. “I’m okay, I’m okay…”

Jimin looks at you with worry in his eyes. He holds your elbow tightly. “Y/N, you don’t look so well. Just rest for a bit.”

You shake your head again, tears threatening to fall again. “Please… let me see him just for a bit…”

He sighs. He knows how stubborn you are, and you won’t back down. “Fine. Hold on to me, okay? Tell me if you have any pain.”

Luckily, Jungkook’s room is just a few rooms from yours. Just when you are about to open his door, you hear voices yelling inside.

“Yah! You can’t move!”

“Jungkook-ah! Are you crazy?”

“She’s fine! Just stay in the bed!”

Your eyes widen in panic. You let go of Jimin’s arms and rush forward inside Jungkook’s room. The only thing in your mind is Jungkook, and Jungkook only. You want to make sure he’s okay. You want to see him again.

And your eyes meet his.

The other agents hold him tightly as he tries to walk to the door. He looks pale and pained, there’s bruises in his body. You see the bandages sneaking out from his gown. And it just makes your heart break and relieved at the same time. “Kook?”

His doe eyes look you from head to toe, blinking his teary eyes to see you clearer. “Y/N?”

His voice.

Your favorite one.

The only thing that gives you strength to step forward. The only thing that can make you run. The only thing that can make your heart leap.

And just like that you run to him, run to his embrace, rushing forward clumsily while dragging the IV poll.

Jungkook holds you tightly to his chest, not even caring if you jostle his wounds. He doesn’t even care if he feels the pain, in fact, he is glad he can feel it. So that he knows that this is real. That you are wrapped in his arms, still living and breathing before him.

Jungkook lets your scent and warmth envelop his body and he can feel the relief straight into his heart. He takes your face in his hands, looking at it carefully. He gulps a little when he spots a little wound on your forehead and bruises on your neck. “Are-are you okay?”

You sniff and let your tears fall from your eyes as you nod weakly. “Are you okay? Let’s get you back to your bed.”

“I’m okay,” he giggles but lets you hold him and take him back to the bed. And when you stumble again because of his weight, the other agents hop in to help both of you. Jin and Taehyung hold Jungkook and walk him to his bed while Jimin helps you.

Hoseok smiles at you as he drags a chair next to the bed, “We’re gonna let you talk for a bit, okay? Don’t talk too long, you both need to rest.” He pushes the other agents outside, giving you and Jungkook privacy.

It’s silent again.

But it’s comforting. And you kinda miss it.

It’s funny how just with the presence of Jungkook can stir your heart completely. Just by the presence of him, he can turn your mood around.

You bite your lips and fiddle with your gown. “Thank you for saving me. It must have hurt a lot.”

Jungkook smiles and reaches your face to wipe your tears away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come faster. You must have been frightened.”

And there it breaks you. Jungkook is the one who hurt the most, and yet he is the one who feels sorry. He is in pain, but he still thinks of you. What can you do to deserve to be with this nice man? No, you don’t deserve it all. And it just aches your heart even more. “What are you talking about….” you sob and turn away from him as you try your hard to stop the tears falling from your eyes.

Jungkook reaches your hand softly. “Please don’t turn away from me.. Please?” His other hand moves to pat your head lovingly. “Can we please have that talk now?”

You pout. “No. You need to rest. We can talk about it anytime after you get better.”

“I don’t want to. I have to tell you right now.” He takes a deep sigh. “I’ll go crazy if I keep this any longer.”

“But…”

“I’m sorry for what I did to you in your apartment. I was drunk and made stupid mistakes. I’m sorry.”

You nod quickly. “Yes, I know and I’ve forgiven you. Now, you should have some rest…”

“I didn’t know why I did it, but just so you know, I’ve always wanted to kiss you. I think I felt too rushed, but I didn’t do it just to tease you or make fun of your feelings. It’s jus-”

“Wait, what?” You look at him puzzled and raise one of your eyebrows. “You-you wanted to kiss me?”

He tilts his head at your response. “Yeah?”

“But, why?”

He takes a close look at your face, and swallows dryly. “Because I like you, Y/N.”

There is a pregnant silence as you blink your eyes, processing the sudden bomb of information. “Huh?” You scratch the back of your head confusedly. “You like me? Since when?”

He blushes as he smiles. “I don’t know. It just happened, I guess… Wait, you didn’t know?”

“Duh, this is an expression of a person who knew about it,” you say sarcastically as you point to your face.

Jungkook’s jaw drops. “I really thought I made myself really clear. Even the others knew about it!” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Anyway, I just felt so rushed because you’re gonna leave soon and I thought I’m gonna lose my chance. Also it might be because these feelings are little new for me, so I was a little confused. But I-”

“But I’m still with this Company for another 4 months…”

It’s his turn to process the information and then his face turns red as he lets go of your hand. “I thought… I’m just… hmmm. I’m gonna take my confession back then…”

“No! I won’t let you take it back.” You reach for his hand, holding it tightly. You look at him with a determination in your eyes and smile widely from ear to ear. “Thank you, I’m happy to hear it.”

Jungkook replies with a smile too as he sighs in relief. “But still, I have to say it again properly someday.”

You giggle as you squeeze his hand. “Sure, let’s take this slowly. We have a lot of time.”

You both hold each others’ hands with smiles on your faces. No word exchanged, as you both know how happy you are. How relieved you are to finally hold his warm hand again. How excited you are to guess what will happen to both of you. How ecstatic you are as you feel your heart races inside your chest.

The air freshener sprays in the corner of the room, breaking the silence between both of you. The scent of vanilla disperses in the air. Filling the room with nothing but sweet scent. Usually, you always stay away from the sweet type of smell and stick with anything musky, floral, or maybe just natural ones. But now, this specific type of smell becomes your favorite one. The sweetest scent to remind you about him. The sweetest scent that you can have everyday without feeling sick.

Jungkook coughs awkwardly, “I know, you said to take this slowly. But I just can’t help it…” He looks at you with pinkish cheeks as he squeezes your hand. “Can-can I kiss you?”

You reply with nothing but a smile and nod. You lean in a little so he can be closer to you just for a little bit. And just like that, he takes your face in his hands slowly and connects his lips with yours.

And you can feel it, how your hearts are connecting too.

Go check the other series because *sst... It’s all connected!

Series Masterlist: The Company

Taglist: @kb-bangtanenthusiast @w0lfqu33n @gee-nee @jaienn @nctssidehoe @codeinebelle​ @kali-20 @mygalaxysupernova​ @jeoncookie-bts​ @kookunot​ @1-in-abillion​ @beingbeings​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @yiyi4657​ @jinsalpaca​ @giadalin​ @spring2787​ @drmrastraea​ @katbonv​ @fluffyjoons​ @baebyjoonie​

Taglist open!

[hes-writer]

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.  

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker. 

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs. 

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black. 

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3) 

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend.  A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body. 

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again. 

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.  

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class 

[desire-tenderness]

I will return to old Brazil

I’m three weeks away in New York on a laser and independence trip, I miss home. It’s only two days away and soon I’m back in Brazil to meet my family and friends. I was taking the opportunity to organize some of the things, like some clothes and documents, that’s when I missed my passport. “Where did it go, my God?! My credit card was on the cover. I’ve turned this apartment upside down and can’t find it anywhere. There’s no way I lost! This shit only happens to me. I only have two more days stay in this Irbnb, how will I solve the problem of passport loss in two days without my credit card!? I don’t have a penny more.” [ranting, going into outbreak] “OK, relax, I’m smart! I need to raise money for at least another day or two, I have enough for daily meals. Well, didn’t I want to experience something unique and inspiring? Here’s a chance to have a tragic story to tell and laugh at later.” [I thought out loud]  “I can manage as a street performer, starting tomorrow. I take my ukulele and some blank sheets of paper and make illustrations of pedestrians, I hope to reap the benefits of that. The last place I remember seeing my passport was yesterday when I was at the MoMA. Now I need to go back there and hope that I find in the "lost and found" of the place.” [The next day] I woke up early today and I’m already on my way to Central Park, hoping to find a space on Bethesda Terrace to play. The first time I went I saw a young man playing the cello so beautifully, it made me overflow with emotion. I played some songs, I noticed that I had a very positive return looking at the cover of Ukulele, I was curious to tell how much money I had made with those 5 songs played. It’s quite amazing the satisfaction of playing there, people seem to want to hear me play. I thought of ending with Naive - The Kooks and so I did. - I'm not saying it was your fault Although you could have done more Oh, you're so naïve, yet so..   {music}

Soon formed a circle of people singing together, I was shivered, did not imagine that The Kooks still had an audience. A little girl left $16 on the cover of the instrument, it made me float. With less than a minute to go, I saw a wonderfully attractive boy, at least 15 feet away, "do I know you?" I thought while I messed up a song. At the end of the last song I thanked him and forced my eyes to reach the boy again, but he was no longer there. The minute I thanked her, the same little girl started pulling a leather saying "one more, one more". I didn’t have a repertoire anymore and I couldn’t think of anything. The sky was with an attractive texture and the climate had a palette of color that sent me the song Postcards From Italy - Beirut and without thinking too much about whether or not it made sense for the moment, I started playing and singing. As I played, I closed my eyes to feel the instrumental climax of the song that was approaching. And when I opened my eyes the same boy I saw from afar was standing in front of me watching my show. Who was he? Timothée Chalamet. My whole body was frozen with the fright, but I didn’t want to leave anything evident. If I showed my anxiety, that space would turn into an afternoon of autographs and I don’t want to take your time. Did he give me money? The cover of the instrument had received more notes of paper, but for being with eyes closed I could not see. He smiled and nodded, turned away. I kept silent. Second then I hurried thanking everyone for my return, guarding my instrument and taking my bag. I run after him. - Hey! Timo! He turned at the same second, confused, trying to find who called him. He must have noticed me tightening my stride to get close to him as soon as possible. - Hi! Our is a pleasure, I can’t believe it’s really you. I let you go so you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but I needed to talk to you and thank you for listening to me play and a lot of other stuff. Sorry, I’m talking too much, all right? I spoke so fast that I hardly breathed. He laughed. - Hi, Beirut, huh? It goes well with today’s weather. It was nice! Am I well and you? Alias, your name? - Do you like Beirut? Gee. My name is (xxxx) but it doesn’t matter now. - Yes, you do. Are you from New York? - No, I come from Brazil. I’m traveling.. The words were disappearing from my mind as the minutes passed, I was somewhat hypnotized. - Cool! I really want to see Brazil someday. Do you want a photo? - Man I want a photo yes. I never thought that moment would be here and now. We took the photo, he thanked me for coming to him and for me playing with such emotion. He finally said that it was "very harmonious". And with a lot of pain in my heart I let him go. "Gee, I met Timothée chalamet two days before returning to Brazil! I must confess that fate has killed, just bring my passport back." [I thought out loud] Arriving at the Moma I received the terrible news that my passport was not there, it was my only hope going down the drain. I wanted to cry out of desperation, but I was also totally happy to have met Timothée and to have taken a picture that I will keep for the rest of my life. "I wish I’d been calmer and sane, I guess I just thought I was crazy. I hope he hasn’t noticed my despair, anxiety and complete fascination. Well, back to what I need to focus on.. Do I get some freelance work at some designer studio? Well, it could be a coffee shop. " The day has gone by so fast, the clock is almost 4:00 p.m. I think I’ll have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, and I’ll get a job, if that’s not too embarrassing. I thought I’d walk around the West Village and find some cool coffee over there. Said and done, I found a coffee visibly attractive and had a delicious smell coming out the door, but it was empty. I think this is the perfect opportunity for a presentation, so I’m gonna eat something first. I ordered a latte and a lobster, one of my favorite treats. That crispy puff pastry, filled with vanilla cream, caramel and flor de sal makes me roll my eyes. I ate with such desire that I began to remember how surprising my day was. I thought I would make an illustration of the Timothée, a drawing of how I met him, the ambience was delicious to draw in peace and so I did. I noticed that someone came through the cafeteria door, I heard the sound of the door open. It was him, he was again in the same environment as me. The coincidence was so much that I could hardly believe it, I kept my calm. He sat across the room, pretended not to see it.

On the local radio started playing First date - Blink, obviously I started singing and trying to finish my drawing as soon as possible, who knows he could see before going. "Lets go! Don’t Wait! this night’s Almost over Honest, Let’s make this night last Forever' {Music} Suddenly someone came to my table and put a glass of Vanilla Malt and a snack with a great smell. When I looked up he completed the harmony. - Forever and Ever, Let’s make this last Forever. Hi again! "Are you kidding that this is really happening? And if it is not? Well, I will act as if I were dreaming, I can do better in this communication" - I don’t believe it. This is crazy, what are you doing here at my table?! - Would you like me to leave? - You’re crazy, of course not, sit down, please! - So, what are you doing? Wait, that’s... that’s me?! Fuck!  [He pointed to the drawing] - hãnn yes, look.. this coincidence I will never live again. Now in my head I go through a cruel dilemma. - Which would it be? Excuse me. [He took the marvelous drawing and took a photo] - Should I finish it and give it to you, or should I ask for an autograph and frame it? - Hmm look.. my autograph is nothing, I would ruin the drawing, but it’s so awesome, I would love it if it was mine, but I took a picture, it’s worth the frame! - Arranged, Mr. Chalamet. I told him about my passport drama and how distressed I was. His face of "Holy shit, I’m sorry, you’ll have a headache" didn’t help. But he offered me real help with this red tape. "Does that mean I’ll see you beyond today?!" - Okay, you’re tense. Let’s break the ice by relaxing with a theatrical technique. I say a word, you think fast and say the first one that pops into your head. -Okay... Can I get started? [What’s going on here? ] -Yes, of course, yes! - Silver - Gold - Desire - Fire - Friend - you - Call me by your name - And I call you by mine. Oh shit! [laughed with his hand in his mouth] - That’s pretty cool hahaha let me ask. What are you going to do now? I’m really surprised to see you "living normally" - It is sometimes I get this feat. But anyway, I have no plans. - Do you want to go to the street cinema and see what classic is going on today? - My God, yes I am, thank you for the suggestion. We left the cafeteria and I didn’t ask for a job, I don’t regret it, my day is being fucking awesome. We went to the cinema of East Village and Singing in the rain was on display, that was perfect! I’ll watch one of my favorite movies with Timothée, it’s the fourth time I’ve pinched myself and I notice it’s not a dream. This day cannot end. We took the tickets and entered without him being stopped or recognized, I was relieved. And sitting next to him in a movie theater, all I could think about was how I wanted to be able to take his hand, kiss it as classically as the movie we’re watching. He made a story, I’m dying to open my phone and see, knowing that I’m next to him and nobody else but me and he knows, fuck!

At the end of the movie we came out, another coincidence or not, it was raining. I had my instrument and drawing sheets in my purse, but I wanted to literally sing in the rain, only without an umbrella. I dropped everything on the stairs and called him into this brief shower of rain. EPIC. I danced and sang in the rain with Timothée Chalamet and he seems absurdly happy about it.

We end with: "Come on with the Rain I have a Smile on my face I walk down the Lane With a happy refrain Just Singin', Singin' in the Rain" - Do you fancy a bagel or something? - I’m in! Tompkins? - Sure, and you have better? I answer, no way. - That’s so sweet, come on! And so we continued, hungry, laughing and wet. I think he appreciates moments like this, you can see in his eyes extreme pleasure and relief, that’s beautiful. The hunger was so great that we ate 3 bagels with bacon, eggs and cheese. We were wet so we ordered for the trip and ate outside. During the final bites we’ll talk about my passport again. - Where was the last time you saw him and when did you realize he was gone? - The last time was in Moma, the day before yesterday. But I went back there and they did not find.. I realized last night when I was starting to leave part of the suitcases ready to "go back to Brazil tomorrow". - Have you looked in the pockets of the clothes you wore when you went to Moma? - I looked at that jacket 10 times and I couldn’t find it. - Why do you think it’s in my jacket? I always carry a full pair of pants. - My God this is so obvious! I took the laundry to the building, if it is there I owe you my life. - Stop it. Can I go with you and film you finding your passport? [He laughed] - That if I find, will know a mix of relief, gratitude and anger. [laughs together] - Come on.

Yes, my passport and credit card were always "with me", were in the inside pocket of the pants as he had said. I was about to explode with relief!

I was ready to corrupt the good impression made during the day, but I was so excited and happy that I jumped in his lap grabbing his neck and kissing his cheeks.

He was silent as he stared at me confused as he held my thighs around his waist. I felt his breath on my neck, I didn’t want to leave, but I needed to.

- I’m sorry, really, I’m just happy. Thank you. - Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m glad you found it. Do you still want that autograph? - Of course! [ He signed my drawing and took another picture of it, but this time with me holding the art. ]

- Sing one last song before I go. - My God that hard, I don’t know. Huh.. Sing with me? - If I know. Then I started singing Marvin Gaye’s Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, he seemed surprised. "Just call my name I’ll be there in a Hurry You don’t have to Worry'Cause, baby, there Ain’t no mountain high enough Ain’t no Valley low enough Ain’t no river wide enough To Keep me from Getting to you, baby" We laughed and finished. I was almost crying. Shame, I’m not a child. - So that’s it, I will be eternally grateful for today. Thank you and good luck girl, it was a pleasure. He turned and opened the door, waved his hand. And I recited.. "Now, when Twilight dims the sky above Recalling Thrills of our love There’s one Thing I’m Certain of I will Return to old Brazil" He smiled and came back to me, kissing my forehead. - Until one day, anywhere in the world. - See you, Timolito. He came out and I cried. {This is a fanfic. All I write about is my feelings and desires. TEXT BY: L.M }

[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 4

Hey there! Hope you’re having an amazing day! To make it a little better, here’s an update on my ToG fanfic! If you haven’t read the previous chapters, you can find them here:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

I promise I'll make a Masterlist one of this days so it’s easier to find n_n

CHAPTER 4

Implementing phase one

Once lunchtime came around, Celaena walked eagerly towards the school’s cafeteria, her stomach rumbling loudly. She was still not used to the new schedule and having to get up so early, she hadn’t managed to grab anything for breakfast before riding to school. She had had enough time to carefully sort out her uniform for the day though, adding her own little twist with a red bandana tied around her right wrist. She had also taken twenty minutes in front of the mirror putting on her contacts and making sure her makeup was spotless.

She had accentuated her cheekbones, making her face look a bit rounder than what it was, had thinned her nose, and added a few fake freckles across it. She had decided on black eyeliner and simple grey eyeshadow, with a little bit of gold in the inner corners of her eyes. That day's lipstick choice was bright red, as it matched her rider's vibe. 

Celaena got in the queue at the buffet, eyeing everything in front of her and having a hard time choosing only one item from the vast range of options. In the end, she settled for the fried chicken, a portion of fries, and two servings of pudding. 

Finding an empty table close enough to her main interests but a little secluded at the same time was a challenge; but once she found the spot, she sat down with her tray. 

She watched as the cafeteria filled up, and spotted Sam on a crowded table only a few meters away. They were one to each side of Aedion’s table, and she knew this was no coincidence; Sam was playing his cards too. Annoyed, Celaena glared at him, but Sam’s eyes were too focused on the couple making a scene in between them, and he didn’t see her.

“Hi, there!” Someone said, popping a tray of food next to her own, and grabbing a seat.

Celaena turned towards the intruder, surprised to find a dark-skinned girl with long raven dreadlocks falling to her waist and curious eyes that were looking at her. 

“Hi,” She said dubiously. 

She had enjoyed the peace and quiet of eating on her own the previous day, but she knew it wasn’t going to last. Celaena would have to find her place in the status quo soon, or else she’d end up as an outcast, and that wouldn’t be good for her plans.

“Nice to meet you,” the girl sitting next to her said. “I’m Nehemia, I’m the only other exchange student in this stuck-up school, so I thought we might as well kick start this inevitable friendship of ours,” she finished with a tight smile.

Celaena looked at her a little perplexed, and a little stunned. Nehemia looked somehow shy yet she also had a kind of hidden sass that Celaena found appealing. But she had to remind herself that she wasn’t there to make friends, she had no time for it.

“If you say so,” she replied, nonchalant.

“I’ve been here for a whole year, and I can tell you, this is a hard crowd to please.” Nehemia looked her up and down as if analyzing her. “I would have expected you to be sitting on the table with the jocks already,” she added pointing at them with her head. “A few of them are taken, as the team captain over there. His name is Aedion,” she explained, talking eagerly as Celaena listened carefully while pretending to be more interested in her food. “His father owns one of the biggest businesses in town, and they have investments all over the place, he is loaded! Even more than most of us. It's a bit of a sad story if you ask me, his mother died when he was young, and it’s just him and his father; I believe he lost his aunt and other family members to a tragic accident too. You wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at him though, he’s always so full of himself… And he's got that damned gorgeous smile!” 

Nahemia sighed and stopped talking for a moment as she ate a few spoonfuls of her lunch. Next to her, Celaena looked at Aedion through her lashes as she picked on the fries. 

“Who’s the chick with him?” She asked, knowing that any other girl would have asked the same question.

“Lysandra? She’s the queen bee. Captain of the cheerleaders, she’s probably the most gorgeous girl in this whole town,” she said, and then looked at Celaena, analyzing her again. “Well, maybe she was, she might have competition now.”

Celaena huffed, trying not to grin at the remark. Of course, she was better looking than that girl. At least now she knew who that Lysandra girl was, and she could keep an eye on her. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she said instead.

“Please, I’m not blind, you are absolutely gorgeous. And blond seems to be trending at the moment, I’ve heard every single boy in school talk about your entrance today,” Nehemia added as she lifted her thin brows.

Celaena smiled to herself and disregarded the comment with a wave of her hand.

“So, how long have those two been together for?” She asked next, knowing that she might as well just use this free source of information while it lasted; there wasn’t much time left on the clock before they’ll have to head over to their next class.

“A long while, they've been together since the start of junior year,” Nehemia said. “So sorry to be the one to break it up to you, but you have no chances with Aedion, many have tried to break them apart, but no one has succeeded,” Nehemia finished.

Celaena smiled while she laughed to herself once more. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested, he’s not really my type,” she replied.

“I guess you’re right, you two would look a bit creepy as a couple anyway, he looks like he could be your brother,” Nehemia stated, playing with a gold band from one of her dreads.

Celaena composed her expression into something neutral, trying not to worry about that remark. No one would ever suspect they were related, she was safe, she reminded herself. But this girl had her eyes on the details, and Celaena knew straight away that she’d have to be careful around her. Maybe having her close would be the smarter option.

“What’s your type then? I can picture a hot dark-haired boy…” Nehemia said dreamily as she played with another one of her dreads, her dark eyes darting around the crowd and looking for someone to match Celaena with.

“Oh, how come I didn’t notice it before?” Nehemia said in a hushed tone as she leaned closer to talk into Celaena’s ear. “Dorian is checking you out,” she said, a smile spreading wide on her lips. “You two would look so good together, but he’s not the dating type,” Nehemia replied.

That was a cue Celaena didn’t know she was waiting for, and as the words left Nehemia’s lips, she found herself popping another fry in her mouth and looking up. She met Dorian’s bright blue eyes, and she held his gaze, chewing slowly, playing with a strand of hair between her fingers. 

“How come?” She asked Nehemia, her eyes still on Dorian’s.

Dorian took the bait and elbowed the guy sitting next to him. Celaena watched as Chaol lifted his head, and watched her shamelessly staring at them. 

“I mean, he’s never had a girlfriend in school, rumor has it he’s been with half the girls from Adarlan Elite though,” Nehemia said. “Almost every girl claims to have been in bed with him, but the stories don’t quite… match,” she finished.

Dorian murmured something in Chaol’s ear and then contained a laugh as Chaol shook his head from one side to the other. Dorian shrugged, and stood up, leaving his tray behind on the table and sliding his backpack over a shoulder.

“Is that right?” Celaena replied, her eyes unblinking.

Dorian walked towards their table slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Oh my God,” Nehemia whispered. “He’s coming over here, what should we do? What should I do? Do you want me to go?” She was moving in her seat, and Celaena put a hand over her tight under the table, as if telling her to stay calm. Nehemia got the wordless message and went still all of a sudden. She kept her head down, but she gazed up between her long lashes. 

Nehemia looked shy all of a sudden, her shoulders slightly drawn as if trying to make her tall frame look small, but Celaena thought it was a facade; she reckoned underneath it all the girl seemed composed, careful, attentive. The girl knew how to lie, and how to make people see her the way she desired. Celaena noticed because she was so used to doing the exact same thing.

“Dorian,” Celaena said sweetly as the guy finally made his way to them and stood over the other side of the table. “What brings you here?” She asked, motioning at the table and the empty seats in front of her.

“Wondering if I could join you for a moment?” He asked.

“Well,” Celaena said slowly. “I’m pretty certain the bell is about to ring any minute now, and there’s a class I need to attend. I’m sure there’s one you need to head to as well.”

She finished eating the last of her fries, and grabbed a spoon, taking a bite of her chocolate pudding and licking her lips slowly as she swallowed.

“There’s still a few minutes on the clock,” Dorian quipped. “And I’m sure you can’t finish all that on your own,” he continued. “Maybe I could help you.”

“Would you like to bet on that?” Celaena said with a smirk and then shoved another big spoonful in her mouth.

She could see Dorian staring at her lips, and she ran her tongue between them again.  

“You’d be surprised at my odds in gambling,” Dorian said, composing his expression into something like a smug smile. “I’ve never lost, not once,” he said.

Celaena let her eyes drift past Dorian quickly, and saw that she had the attention of most of the cafeteria by then. She saw Aedion looking at her and then looking away when she met his eyes, and then she collided into Sam’s golden-brown irises. It was as if he was trying to burn a hole into Dorian’s back, trying to see through his very soul.

“And will you?” Celaena asked. “I mean, bet against me?” she said as she finished the first portion of pudding, and moved onto the second one.

“No, I would never,” he replied. “I would never dare bet against you, Celaena, I will be sure to always bet on you,” he said, and then he sat down in front of her, leaning over the table to look at her closely.

“Uhm, interesting,” she said. With that, she pushed the dessert over to Dorian and stood up quickly, grabbing her bag in one hand and hooking the other around Nehemia’s elbow. “Lost my appetite, you can have it,” she said as she pulled on Nehemia’s arm and turned around to walk away. 

“You can’t run away, I know where you live, Celaena,” Dorian’s mellow voice trailed after them as they headed out of the cafeteria without looking back.

“What was that about? You just stood up the king of the school! In front of everybody! Do you have any idea how popular that guy is?” Nehemia asked as the double doors closed behind them.

“You have to keep them on their toes,” Celaena replied as she abruptly let go of Nehemia’s arm. The dark-skinned girl looked shocked and motioned to follow along, but Celaena lifted a hand. “I’m on my own from here on, but thanks for the company,” she said nonchalantly as she walked away with quick steps. 

She had never had a girlfriend in her life, and this was the wrong time to go looking for one. Nehemia was smart, and she would keep an eye on her, but she didn’t need friends, no; she needed to infiltrate the hive. 

The first step of her plan had already proved to be a success. She had got the whole school thinking she was a possible match for Dorian. And most importantly, she had caught the attention of the jocks' table. 

Time to move to the second stage, time to become one of the popular kids.

Here’s the Queen Bee herself, Lysandra Caraverre :D [Made with picrew]

[kyber-kisses]

In The Wind

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: pretty angsty but that’s about it.

Summary: based on the lyrics In the Wind by Lord Huron. (It’s a song fic folks!)

A/n: Lord Hurons music is some of my all time favorite shit to listen to, and the lyrics always get my creative juices flowing, so this is probably the first out of multiple song fics I write for his music. I literally listened to this song on repeat while writing this, so Please enjoy!

Link to song here: https://open.spotify.com/track/6gTglnHm9CIGGRox5TtMd9?si=iZ8Tc3fuQ3mfgAqYKztsqA

“You’re thinking about her again, aren't you?”

Sam's voice pulled Dean from his haze, eyes slowly looking up from his glass of whiskey to land on his brother and Jack.

Not this again.

Dean did everything he could to try and ignore Jacks confused expression, the nephilim having no idea as to who they were talking about.

“Thinking about who?” Jack questioned, eyes ever so slightly lighting up.

You've been gone for a long long time

You've been in the wind, you've been on my mind

You are the purest soul I've ever known in my life

Damn it. He was letting his emotions peek through again.

“Okay, you know what- I’m not talking about this. Not now. Not ever.” Dean sighed, quickly pushing up from his spot at the table, downing the rest of his whiskey and slamming the glass back down, exiting the room with a huff.

Sam mentally slapped himself. He shouldn’t have brought it up. It always put Dean in a mood. There was a good chance his brother was going to lock himself away in his room for the weekend because of it.

“Did- did I do something?” Jack questioned, eyes darting from the doorway to Sam, hoping for an explanation.

“Uh- no, no you didn’t. It’s mainly my fault.” Sam sighed.

Pushing up from his own seat, Sam crossed the kitchen, not sure whether what he was about to do was a good idea or not.

Digging behind the shelf of coffee mugs, he produced the artifact that Dean had tried so hard to keep hidden. With slow steps he moved back to Jack, handing over the worn picture frame, the glass in one corner slightly cracked, but otherwise spotless.

Take your time, let the rivers guide you in

You know where you can find me again

I'll be waiting here 'til the stars fall out of the sky

“Her name was Y/n.”

Jack tilted his head, looking at both the familiar face and new one in the photograph. The whole thing almost seemed foreign though. Dean was smiling- well he wasn’t just smiling, he was laughing, leaning back against the impala, arm sling over the shoulders of a young woman. Her head tilted back in laughter,  y/h/c hair blowing slighting across her features.

“She was— she was Deans best friend. Ever since we were kids. Though he never has said it out loud, everyone knew he was in love with her. There was no doubt about that.He always denied it though when people brought it up.” Sam continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips as memories flooded through him.

“What happened?”

Sam took a breath, knowing full well Dean was probably gonna kick his ass later. “When Dean was first pulled from hell, one of the demons in charge of him, Alastair, was really angry, and I mean really angry, He tracked us down.” The younger Winchester sucked in another breath, fiddling with his thumbs, “he- he practically butchered her right in front us. Dean fought so hard, but it was too late. He never forgave himself for that.”

“. . .Oh.”

When you left I was far too young

To know you're worth more than the moon and the sun

You are still alive when I look to the sky in the night

Dean always told people that he didn’t do the whole “love thing.”

That was a lie.

Because even if he never said it out loud, Dean Winchester had been completely and utterly in love with you. Hell, a massive part of him still was, even if almost a decade had passed.

There was no one like you. There never would be. You were just a feisty eight year old when you and Dean had met. He was seven.

Your meeting was anything but romantic. Uncle Bobby always warned you about strangers, so when when you bumped into Dean in his study- things didn’t go smoothly.

You kneed him in the groin and took his pocket knife.

Dean thought you were the coolest girl he had ever met.

I would wait for a thousand years

I would sit right here by the lake, my dear

You just let me know that you're coming home

And I'll wait for you

Walking down the empty hallways of the bunker , Dean found himself pausing in front of one of the many vacant bedrooms. He didn’t really know why he stopped in his tracks, but he did.

You would have loved this place. You would have read every book to be found and undoubtedly decorated your room in some odd fashion that would actually, somehow come together. You would have tinkered with every vintage car that sat in the garage and found the hallways perfect for rollerblading through.

You would have made this place so much better. So much brighter.

But you weren’t here.

Dean eventually slunk back to his room, blocking out his surroundings with a pair of headphones as he scrolled through his phone, looking for something in particular. And then he found it: Y/ns favorites.

The playlist was jammed pack full of your favorite oldies, going from Sam Cooke to The Beatles. You always did have good taste. You would definitely find today’s music downright terrible.

Years have gone but the pain is the same

I have passed my days by the sound of your name

Well they say that you're gone and that I should move on

I wonder: how do they know, baby?

Even if he had lost you all those years ago, his mind always found time to wander back to you. He saw pieces of you in almost everything. Every once in a while, during a case or just a supply run, he would hear someone call out to a person with the same name, and he would whip around, ever so slightly hoping he would see you.

He never did.

He would see an album cover for a record, or even take a bite of food, and think: “oh y/n would love this.”

No matter how far he ran or how fast he moved, he could never escape you, but then again, he didn’t want to. You were a part of him, ever since the two of you locked eyes in Bobby’s study.

Death is a wall but it can't be the end

You are my protector and my best friend

Well they say that you're gone and that I should move on

I wonder: how do they know, baby?

How do they know? Well, they don't

“What was she like?” Jack questioned, lowering the frame to the table as he looked up at Sam, eyebrows drawn together in interest. He wanted to know more about you.

You had been Deans best friend after all.

Sam let out a light chuckle, sliding the frame back towards himself so he could look at it again, “Y/n, I think, never knew the effect she had on others, the intensity or presence she brought to the room,” he paused, moving to wipe some of the dust from the frame, “She was feisty. . . And troubled, like the rest of us, but she was also impossible to ignore or forget.” Sam had to stop, giving himself a moment to compose himself so he didn’t start crying in front of the kid.

“Then I understand why Dean would have loved her. She sounds amazing.” Jack smiled, earning a grin Sam as well.

“Oh trust me, she was. I think she would have really liked you.” Pushing away from the kitchen table, Sam patted him on the back, undoubtedly retreating to his own room for the night.

That’s when the nephilim had a sudden thought: if he could bring back Castiel from the Great beyond, why couldn’t he do the same with you?

The End?

SPN taglist: @familybusinesswritingbro​@a--1--1--3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​ @jordangdelacruz​ @orphiceseum​ @andthatsmyworld​ @marvelfangirllll​ @fandomnerdespressourself​ @gladiosamicitias​ @castielsangelsx​ @lxstgxrl-ck​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit​ @amendoise​ @phoenixuprisingsstuff​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​ @neerness​ @totallyluciferr​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @dolanfivsosxox @horrorstreet​​

[mylutteoheart]

Playing Cupid

It is finally here, chapter 3 of Playing Cupid. This took me forever, it’s also longer than the previous chapters but I wanted to put it all in one chapter. Chapter 4 is going to be more exciting.

Luna and Matteo have been building their lives together slowly. Fresh out of college, they’re planning their future. But by planning this, they have an underlying plan no one knows of. Bringing their best friends together after 4 years of not being happy without the other. How well will their plan of playing Cupid work?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | my other fics

Chapter 3: The Truth Will Set You Free

It was late at night and Matteo and Luna were lying in bed, cuddled up together. He was lying on his back while Luna's head rested on his chest and her arms wrapped around his torso. His hands engulfed her small frame. They always went to sleep like that, it was the best way to fall asleep.

They were both lost in thought. Thinking about what's to become and excited about the prospect of being able to make their best friends happy again and Luna and Matteo finally getting married.

"Gastón was very happy when I asked him to be my best man." Matteo commented, thinking about the way his best friends sounded over the phone earlier in the day.

He was happy to have been asked this question. Matteo had a feeling that if he knew with who he was going to walk down the aisle, his mood would turn upside down.

Matteo knew his best friend well and he knew the only reason Gastón stayed away for so long is because he didn't want to see the girl he's in love with be happy with someone else.

But now everything has changed now that he knows she's no longer with Eric. He is just too stubborn to admit that he never forgot about the shy girl that shared his interests and made him fall in love with her through a screen.

"He's coming back tomorrow. We agreed to hang out the entire day." he says absentmindedly while slowly stroking Luna's arm. "He asked me if we could have dinner with you then. I think he wants to congratulate us in person."

"That sounds nice. I'd like to see him again. You really missed him, didn't you?" Luna answered him, placing a small kiss on his chest to show him she's here for him.

"I did, it wasn't the same without him around." Matteo looked like he was in thought. "He was always there for me and helped wherever he could. I owe him. " he continued.

"I want to make sure he's happy, he hasn't been himself since he left for Oxford for good." Matteo has a sad look on his face, finding it hard to find a way to help his best friend and help him smile again.

"Nina's the same. They're clearly miserable without each other. I just don't know how they could ever break up. They were the strongest and most determined couple I've ever met." Luna answered him sadly, not wanting to see her friend suffer.

"How are we supposed to make them admit how they feel about each other when they're so in denial?" Luna was frustrated because she knew their best friends belonged together. They just have to figure that out for themselves.

"Calm down, chica delivery. We'll do everything we can to make them happy again." Matteo kissed her nose in comfort "It's the least we can do for them."

Luna sighed in resignation and thought about what else they could possibly do to get them closer.

"Let's just forget it for now, okay?" he suggested after a moment of silence. "We don't need to overthink this. If they're meant to be, they'll get back together on their own." he paused for a moment and mischievous smile appeared on his face "Although it wouldn't hurt to give fate a little push."

She smiled back at him, happy about how excited he gets about the idea of helping their friends find their happiness again.

"Let's just go to sleep now. Tomorrow is another day to think about it." he said, "Just don't forget we're actually planning to get married."

"How could I forget that?" she gave him a sincere and wide smile.

"Of course you could never forget about the fact that you're marrying the best guy in the world you could ever have." he had his typical chico fresa smile on his face.

"You're so conceited, chico fresa." she teased and they went back to their usual banter before falling asleep in each other's arms.

***

Luna was still asleep when she felt someone kissing her cheek. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see the face of Matteo hovering over her. She gave him a sleepy smile, still too tired to say something.

"Gastón just texted me. His plane is landing soon. I promised I'd be there to pick him up." Matteo said apologetically.

"Don't worry, you haven't seen your friend in months, you should go and have fun." Luna answered, giving him a reassuring smile. "I have to talk to Nina anyway, you know, for the next step of our plan."

Matteo chuckled: "Right, we can't forget that. It's about damn time they admit what they feel."

She sighed and answered: "I just wished they didn't have to go through all this pain. They're perfect for each other and they know it. I just don't get how they ever broke up. We can all see it wasn't for the best. It just made things worse."

"Don't worry too much, okay?" he said, concerned about how much this situation is affecting her. "Everything will be alright. Maybe we should focus more on our wedding because I can't wait to be your husband. Getting Gastón and Nina back together is just an added bonus." he kissed the finger on which her engagement ring was and got out of bed to get ready.

"You're right. Have fun today." she smiled brightly.

"You too, chica delivery." he pecked her on the lips and went to leave to pick up his best friend.

***

Matteo couldn't wait to see his best friend. They haven't seen each other since the summer after he graduated college. He was happy Gastón was going to move back to Buenos Aires permanently. Even though he had his friends here, it wasn't the same as having Gastón with him.

His plane landed a few minutes again and he was anxiously waiting at the arrival gate. He wanted to catch up and spend the day with him and he couldn't wait to start everything he had planned.

When he finally spotted him, he walked up fast towards him, he reached Gastón long before he even saw Matteo in the crowd. Matteo called his name and he got startled, not expecting him to be close. They hugged when they saw each other, holding onto each other tightly. Clearly missing the times they saw each other in real life.

"I can't believe you're here." Matteo said once they let go of each other.

"Me neither. I'm glad to see you and congratulations on the wedding." Gastón answered smiling.

"Thanks, I'm happy you could attend it. Now, let's catch up, I want to hear about all your adventures in Oxford." Matteo grabbed a suitcase of Gastón's and motioned for Gastón to go to the exit of the airport.

When they dropped of Gastón's bags at the apartment he was renting, they went out to skate through the streets of Buenos Aires. Just like old times, they were laughing and doing random tricks in the park. If there's one thing he missed doing while he was at Oxford, it would be skating freely. Although that's not the only thing he missed while he was away.

"It feels good to be back." Gastón commented once they took a break from skating. "I didn't think I'd be this happy to return."

Matteo couldn't help but take the chance: "And why is that?"

Matteo saw his best friend hesitating to tell the truth.

"You know, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone, whatever it was that was holding you back from coming back to the city." Matteo insisted, he wanted him to admit the truth. He's been lying to himself for way too long.

Gastón was fighting with himself for a while. He's been burying himself underneath all of his work to avoid thinking about what happened 5 years ago. He didn't let himself regret it because he knew that if he thought about it again. He'd come running back to her and do everything he could to get her back. But he didn't want to hold her back and he didn't want to stop her from moving on. He thought that if she was happy, that's all that mattered. He never guessed that he's the reason she's so happy.

He took a deep breath and right and there, he realized he needed to let out everything he's been hiding deep inside of him: "Fine, the reason I waited so long to come back was because it would have been too hard for me to see her be happy with someone else. I knew when I got back and saw her, I would regret everything that happened between us and I didn't want to because I thought I was making the right decision."

"How do you feel now?" Matteo asked carefully.

"I'm glad to be back because I feel like this place is my home and to be completely honest, I miss her and I'm not sure how long I can take being apart from her anymore. I made a mistake and now it's too late to fix it." he took a deep breath to get ready to say the thing that's so true, yet hurts so much "I still love her, brother. I haven't stopped loving her, even when we broke up. I couldn't even look at a girl without thinking about her and it hurts. I don't know how to get past this."

The silence hung in the air for a while, it was a lot to take in and Matteo couldn't believe he confessed so easily.

After a moment, he stood up from the bench he was sitting on and said: "Maybe it's not too late and you don't need to get past it." with that, he skated back the place they did tricks earlier and continued.

Gastón was left more confused than ever.

***

Luna and Nina were at the Jam & Roller, Luna was waiting for the training to start while Nina did her work as usual. Luna was fidgeting with her fingers, she didn't know how to bring up the topic but she had to somehow.

"Luna, what's wrong? You seem anxious." Nina commented after a moment of silence, not being able to take the fidgeting anymore.

"It's just that... I don't know how to do this." Luna looked around the cafeteria, trying to find the right words.

"Is it that bad?" Nina asked jokingly.

"No, I've just been wondering something." she stalled as much as she could.

"About what?" Nina encouraged her.

"You never really told me what happened with Eric." Luna started reluctantly.

"I told you that we broke up." Nina was so confused about what she was getting at.

"No, I meant... You never told me why you broke up." Luna looked at Nina to see her stiffen at this question.

"Oh, I never told you that?" Nina played aloof, not wanting to talk more about this topic.

That break-up was awkward to say the least. Nina didn't understand they lasted this long. He was sweet and all but she just knew, she could never feel as strongly about him as she did for Gastón but she tried anyway. It didn't take long for her to see that they just didn't fit together but she held on for so long because she always believed that or at least hoped that it was going to work out. But she couldn't hurt him like that anymore and decided to end it. He didn't seem to react to her at all when she was telling him she wants to break up. She didn't really understand what happened, all she knew is that as soon as she said she wanted to break up, he left and never came back without telling anyone. Nina believed he was trying to keep it together in front of her because he didn't want her to see him in pain.

No matter how many excuses she can come up with to explain to Luna why they broke up, she couldn't hide the truth. She was still in love with Gastón and always will be. It would have never worked out with anyone. She just wasn't sure if she should Luna this because she was afraid of how her best friend would react.

The only thing she truly knew for sure that there was no moving on when it comes to Gastón. But is this what she really wants?

"So, Nina, why did you and Eric break up?" Luna asked one last time.

[clowns-or-midgets-spn]

I just posted my first (non series) one-shot. It’s called A Day In The Life and it’s a fun humor-filled glimpse in Peter’s life with The Avengers aided by the wonderful prompt from @snarky-drabbles​ https://archiveofourown.org/works/27243052

“Don’t be nice to Dum-E,” Tony Stark said seriously. “He tried to poison me again.”

Peter's face fell as the robot made a small, sad beeping sound.

“Awww, were you trying to help?" Peter asked, and the robot nodded. "Engine oil smoothie again?"

“Yes,” Tony Stark said darkly. “And I wasn’t paying attention, so I actually drank some.”

Peter stifled a laugh and addressed the robot. “I know you were doing your best. Don’t listen to him.”

“Like they ever do,” Tony Stark snorted.

Ned hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder then hurried his pace as Peter was getting away from him.

As excited as he was to be doing this, as hyped and inarticulate he’d gotten when Peter had said it was all arranged, he was freaking out in the bad way now.

They were supposed to be making a short film for media studies, and Peter had stumbled on the idea of doing a day in the life of Tony Stark. Sure, that was great on paper, and Ned had maybe peed a little when Peter said it was happening, but now they were on their way to Avengers Tower to spend a whole day with Tony Stark, and he wasn't sure his heart could take the strain. This was a feeling way beyond excitement or nerves—it was a heady combination of the two with an extra dose of how-the-hell-is-this-real spinning in him until he felt nauseous.

Peter, on the other hand, was acting like this was just a regular day. Sure, Ned knew he had his internship with Tony Stark, and he had his internship, which involved swinging around Queens in a suit designed by Tony Stark, but how was he not losing his mind? They were going to be in Avengers Tower, with Tony Stark for a whole day, or at least as long as it took to make the film.

Ned really didn’t think he was going to make it through the day without passing out.

They reached the sliding glass doors of the tower, and Peter strode through them without missing a step. Ned, on the other hand, hesitated and wiped a hand over his mouth in case there were still crumbs from the breakfast bagel he'd eaten on the way here. He thought there was probably enough chance of them—or him—getting kicked out before they made it past the lobby, even if he wasn't wearing half of his breakfast on his chin.

“Ned, come on, dude,” Peter called, looking back over his shoulder.

Ned took a breath, braced himself to be thrown out by security, and walked through the doors. The lobby he found himself in was vast. The floors were grey-veined marble on which the heels of the men and women walking around clicked. There was a polished wood reception desk behind which sat three women and a man with telephone headsets which they were talking into. In the center of them was a matronly looking woman with steel-grey hair pulled back in a bun. She had the look of someone that took her job seriously, and Ned thought he could see the cogs turning behind her eyes when she looked at him, processing his appearance and deciding which security officer to summon to kick him out.

“Hey, Juliet,” Peter called cheerfully.

The woman's professional manner dropped at once and became more of an overindulgent grandma as she fixed her eyes on Peter and said, “Peter dear, how are you? I’ve not seen you for two weeks! Where have you been?”

"We've been doing lab time at the compound," Peter said. "I missed you, though. How's Sophie and Richie?"

"Oh, they're fine," she said, beaming at him. "Richie is cutting a new tooth, but it's not getting him down, and Sophie is practicing for her Christmas dance recital at school." She clasped her hands to her chest. "I've got my son filming it, so I'll have him email you a copy."

Peter grinned. “That’d be great.”

Ned swallowed audibly as he looked at his best friend, or at least the person that looked like his best friend. There were stark differences, though. Peter Parker stumbled on words and went on tangents, and he never mentioned anything about dance recitals or anyone called Sophie or Richie. This Peter was confident and calm, totally at ease here.

Peter looked at him, and his smile fell. "Sorry, Ned. Juliet, this is my best friend, Ned. We're doing a school assignment with Mr. Stark today. Ned, this is Juliet. She's the boss of the front desk, and her grandkids are adorable. I met them at the company picnic this summer.”

Stark Industries had a company picnic? Peter went to a company picnic? How did Ned not know this? It was like Peter had this whole other life that he knew nothing about.

“Show him their picture, Juliet,” Peter encouraged.

The woman plucked a silver-framed photograph from her side of the counter and turned it to him. He saw a little girl with fiery red hair and a baby on her lap.

“They’re… uh, real cute, ma’am,” he said awkwardly.

Juliet touched a finger to the cheek of the image of her granddaughter and then placed the picture down and said, "Has Mr. Hogan arranged a security pass for your friend, Peter?"

"Yep," Peter chirped. "He's supposed to be meeting us here to hand it over and to get Ned's biometrics."

Juliet looked past Peter’s shoulder and said, “And here he comes.”

Ned spun and saw Happy Hogan marching towards them, his face set in a glower. His black suit was immaculate, and Ned suddenly felt very grubby in his worn-down Nikes, ratty jeans, and a blue hoodie.

Peter, who was dressed almost identically to him, only he'd swapped the hoodie for a t-shirt with Yoda's face on it, looked perfectly comfortable. He greeted Happy with a wave and grin, which did not diminish when Happy crossed his arms over his chest and said, "You're late."

“We had to stop for breakfast,” Peter said.

Happy raised an eyebrow. “You kept me waiting.”

“Sorry, Happy,” Peter said. “I wanted to get something for you, too, though.” He slid his backpack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and took out a squishy package in a brown Starbucks takeout bag. “It’s a cronut.”

“What the hell is a cronut, why are Starbucks selling them, and why do you think I need one?”

“They’re like a croissant/donut hybrid, Starbucks are branching out, and I thought you’d like it since I know Mr. Stark’s banned the cafeteria staff from serving you anything too fun since your last cardiogram.”

Ned thought he saw a flash of fondness on Happy’s face, a slight softening of the eyes and a quirk of the lips, but it was quickly gone and replaced with a neutral mask as he snatched the bag out of Peter’s hands and said, “Thanks, kid. Now, let’s get this done so I can do my actual job instead of catering to the boss’ pet intern’s buddies.” He fixed his eyes on Ned. “You’re Ned Leeds?”

Ned nodded mutely, and then, when Peter elbowed him, licked his lips and said, “Yes, sir. That’s me.”

Happy took a device out of his pocket, which was the size of a phone but square. He tapped it then held it up in front of Ned’s face. He heard the click of a photo being taken, and then a red line of light slid over Ned’s face, making him gasp.

“It’s okay, Ned,” Peter said. “It’s just a retina scan. It’ll go on the security system to identify you through Friday.”

“Friday?” Ned asked.

Peter beamed. “Say hello, Friday,” he instructed.

"Hello, Peter," a disembodied voice replied. "And hello, Mr. Leeds. It's nice to meet you at last. I've heard a lot about you from Peter and Karen.”

Ned looked around, eyes roving for the source of the voice, and Happy grunted a laugh.

“You won’t find her, kid,” he said gruffly. “She’s the AI interface for the tower. She’s everywhere.”

“And nowhere,” Peter said with a wink. “Technically, she’s based in the mainframe, which is in the basement near the arc reactor, but that’s not really her. You’re all seeing, aren’t you, Friday?”

"I am indeed, Peter," she said. "And I think I should remind you that you told Boss you'd be here at eleven, and it's now eleven-fifteen."

Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. Yeah. Uh… Has he noticed I’m not here yet?”

There was unmistakable amusement in her voice as she replied. “No. He is currently working on the Mark XLVIII Armor. He will undoubtedly notice soon, though."

“We’ll be right there,” Peter said.

“One minute,” Happy said, then addressed Ned. “Kid, give me your digits.”

Ned stared at him blankly. “You mean my phone number?” That was some kind of old-fashioned way of asking, right? He was sure he’d seen it in a movie once.

Happy rolled his eyes, then grabbed Ned’s hand and waggled it. “Digits, kid!”

He pressed Ned's fingers one by one onto the device in his hand, then dropped his hand and said, "Okay, you're good." He rooted in his pocket and pulled out a badge that looked like a credit card attached to a lanyard. "This is only valid today, and it'll give you access to the lobby and the cafeteria," he said. "You want to go anywhere else, you'll need the boss or Peter."

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Ned took the card and examined it. It was emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo, his name, and a large number ten.”

"You're basic clearance," Happy explained. "The kid here's level one, so he can get you anywhere you want to go, but…" he crossed his arms over his chest. "No making a nuisance of yourself. Serious business happens here, and we've got top security guests on the penthouse."

Peter grinned. “We have? Awesome!”

Happy's lips quirked with that smile again, which was quickly wiped away. "We have. Same goes for you, kid. I know they all think you're great, but don't be a pain. It's bad enough that you've got the boss playing starlet for your little home movie.”

“It’s not a home movie, Happy,” Peter said. “It’s a school assignment, and Mr. Stark said it was okay.”

Again, there was the small smile, and then Peter and Ned were being propelled towards the elevators with Happy’s hands gripping the backs of their collars. He planted them in front of the elevator at the very end, the one with a black panel beside the button, and said, “Go on. Get out of my hair.”

Peter placed his hand on the panel, a light swiped over his palm, and then the voice Ned now knew was Friday said, “Peter Parker, security clearance level one, identified.  Where would you like to go, Peter?”

“All the way up to eighty-five, please, Friday,” Peter said. “We’re going to Mr. Stark’s lab.”

The doors slid open, and Peter stepped inside.

Ned looked around the lobby again then followed him in. He was pretty sure he was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime with his best friend, and from what he had seen so far, he thought he was going to learn a lot about Peter, too.

Like who he was when he walked through the glass door of Avengers Tower.

When the elevator doors opened, Peter led them along a hall to another door with a security panel which Peter placed his hand on. The light ran across his palm, and then the door clicked open. Ned's ears were immediately assaulted by blaring music, which he didn't recognize but knew it was old.

Peter pushed open the door and entered, and the volume of the music lowered to a more manageable level.

"Thanks, Friday,” Peter said, then raised his voice a little. “Hey, Mr. Stark.”

Tony Stark, Iron Man himself, was standing right in front of Ned. His hair was tousled, and there was a black smudge of oil on his cheek. At first, he looked vague, staring between Peter and Ned, who shifted from foot to foot and wished he'd gone to the bathroom before he left as he suddenly felt very close to peeing from nerves.

“Are you late?” he asked Peter.

“Nope,” Peter said guilelessly. “I said I’d be here at eleven-twenty, and”—he pointed at the digital clock on the wall—“we’re right on time.”

Tony Stark narrowed his eyes and said, “I call bullshit. You said eleven, I’m sure.”

Unabashed, Peter said, "Okay, yeah, we're a little late, but we needed breakfast since I didn't think you'd want us passing out from low blood sugar. And I remembered what you said about Happy's cardiogram, so I stopped at Starbucks to get him a fruit salad pot for breakfast so he wasn't tempted to go out and get something unhealthy to snack on.”

Tony Stark narrowed his eyes. “Friday, what did the kid get Happy?”

“A fruit salad pot,” the AI reported. “He seems to be enjoying it.”

Ned’s mouth dropped open. Tony Stark’s own AI was lying to him for Peter. How the hell had he managed that? Ned was sure a genius like Tony Stark would program it for absolute honesty to him.

Tony Stark nodded, and his lips quirked into a smile. "Good job, Underoos. Now, you going to introduce me to your playdate?"

Peter's eyes snapped to Ned again, and he said, "Yeah. Sorry. Ned, this is Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark, this is my best friend, Ned."

“Nice to meet you, Ted,” Tony Stark said.

“Ned,” Peter corrected.

Tony Stark waved a hand. "Sure, that, too. Now, you got everything you need for this video thing? I'm giving you one day to do it, then your time is up. I spend enough of my life with cameras pointing at me already, thanks, so I'm not giving you more."

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Peter said. He strode forward and dumped his backpack on the worktable in front of Tony Stark and unzipped it.

"Oh no, you don't," Tony Stark said. "You're not turning my space into your chaotic dumping ground. Use your own table."

Peter nodded, grinned, and carried his bag over to another large table which was dotted with tools, only some of which Ned knew the use of, scraps of metal and what Ned thought was a web shooter in the making.

Peter had his own space in Tony Stark's workshop. He had his own tools? This was crazy. Why had Peter never told him this? He just said Tony Stark taught him stuff on his internship, and they worked on his suit. This was bigger than that.  It was like Peter was a part of his team, with his own place to work.

From the corner were soft beeping sounds, and Peter's head snapped around, and a wide smile spread across his face. "Hey!”

He ran into the corner where there were two robots with hydraulic arms which seemed to be making the sound. One of them tapped a claw on Peter’s shoulder, and Ned moved closer to see. The one touching Peter had an ugly scarf wrapped around what Ned would call its neck, made from red and yellow wool. The other was wearing a dunce cap.

“Hey guys,” Peter said happily. “How are you doing?”

In answer, there were more beeps, and the claw plucked at the sleeve of Peter's t-shirt.

“Uh… Peter…” Ned said, his confusion making its home in his voice.

“This is U,” Peter said, patting the arm of the closest robot, the one wearing the scarf, and then pointed at the one wearing the dunce cap and said, “And this is Dum-E. Mr. Stark built them. They help him with his inventions.”

Tony Stark snorted. “They also screw up and try to extinguish non-existent fires.”

Peter laughed and tugged on the scarf the robot was wearing. “Looking good, man. Is it new?”

The arm bobbed up and down in a nod.

“And what happened to you, buddy?” Peter asked the other bot. “You having a bad day?”

“Don’t be nice to Dum-E,” Tony Stark said seriously. “He tried to poison me again.”

Peter's face fell as the robot made a small, sad beeping sound.

“Awww, were you trying to help?" Peter asked, and the robot nodded. "Engine oil smoothie again?"

“Yes,” Tony Stark said darkly. “And I wasn’t paying attention, so I actually drank some.”

Peter stifled a laugh and addressed the robot. “I know you were doing your best. Don’t listen to him.”

“Like they ever do,” Tony Stark snorted.

“Uh, Peter,” Ned said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Why is that robot wearing an ugly scarf?”

Tony Stark clearly had keen hearing as he spun around and said, “Ugly? That is not the word for that scarf, Ted.”

“No, of course, I mean… Uh…” The color drained from his face, and he began to gape like a fish. Tony Stark was correcting him. This was a nightmare and a blessing at once.

“Relax, kid,” Tony Stark said. “We’ve only got the basic med team here during the day shift, and they might not be able to get here fast enough if you had a stress-induced heart attack. The full crew does the nightshift for when Underoos is patrolling so they can deal with his occasional stab or bullet wounds.”

Peter’s head snapped around, breaking the conversation he’d been having with the bot, and said, “It happened once, Mr. Stark, and it wasn’t really a stab wound. It wasn’t a knife.”

“No,” Tony Stark agreed. “It was an iron bar that impaled you in the kidney.”

"You got stabbed!" Ned squawked. "How did I not know that? I'm your guy in the chair. I should be informed."

“You’re his what?” Tony Stark asked, a gleam in his eye.

Peter held up a finger. “He’s my guy in the chair, who would have saved me crashing a plane if Happy had been listening. Ned is a vital part of my life as Spider-Man.”

Tony Stark narrowed his eyes but nodded and said, “Point conceded.” He turned his gaze on Ned. "And yes, he was stabbed with an iron bar by some supercharged gremlin thing. And that's nothing compared to the time he was shot in the gut and got septic because he tried to pull the bullet out himself with tweezers."

Ned gaped at Peter, who waved a hand and said, "He's making it sound way worse than it was. I was fine, really."

“And you didn’t tell me because?”

Tony Stark moved to them and clapped a hand on Ned’s shoulder, making his breath catch and his vision blur because Iron Man was touching him, actually touching him with his superhero hand. Ned was collecting superhero DNA right now, and he wasn't sure how long he would stay conscious with that knowledge and weight on his shoulder.

"Probably because he didn't want you to share my nightmares, Ted," Tony Stark said, then smirked. "And because you apparently believe him when he says he's got stomach flu so can't come to school while he’s recovering.”

“It’s Ned, Mr. Stark," Peter scolded.

Ned licked his dry lips and, as the hand fell from his shoulder, remembered how to breathe. “Ted is fine. They sound really similar.”

Peter scowled, and Tony Stark winked at him then said, "And my point, before we got off track, was that it is a hideous scarf, not an ugly one, but you can’t say it outside this room as its creator is sensitive about his knitting and we all appreciate how hard he’s trying.”

Peter grinned and nodded. “He’s not wrong.”

“Now, get the camera set up, Ted, while Underoos makes nice with his bot buddies. I got the Hulkbuster armor out to show you since I thought that would be most impressive for all your little kindergarten friends.”

“We’re seniors, Mr. Stark,” Peter said.

Tony Stark waved a hand. “Sure you are, kid.”

Ned hurried to Peter’s desk, set down his own bag, feeling suddenly bereft as if it had been a security blanket, and took the video camera out of Peter’s bag.

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I want to get some footage of you working at first, then we’ll ask you some questions.”

Tony Stark nodded, “Sure, kid, whatever gets you the gold stars and extra apple slices at break.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Sure, thanks.”

Ned and Peter fiddled with the camera settings for a moment, then Ned lifted it and pointed it at Tony Stark, who had picked up a screwdriver and twisted a screw on the knee of the massive armor. "This okay?" he asked.

“Yes,” Peter said, “But try not to talk to us while we’re filming unless we’re doing the interview. This footage is going to have a voiceover as we talk about who you are and what you do.”

Tony Stark huffed a laugh. “Yeah, because no one in your school will know who I am already. This is going to be ground-breaking stuff.”

“Your ego is showing, Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered.

Tony Stark’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

“I said this angle is great,” Peter said innocently. “We’re going to start filming now.”

Tony Stark glared at him a moment then muttered, "Little asshole," as the bots beeped in rapid succession, which Ned thought sounded a lot like laughter.

Ned pressed record and steadied the camera on Tony Stark as he fiddled with the screw and pulled up a hologram above the armor. He seemed to become lost in what he was doing, his brow furrowed and, seemingly oblivious to Ned and the camera, he said, “Over here, Underoos. I want you to look at this spot. Do you think we can increase the torque to get the speed of motion up? Bruce is pretty damn fast when he’s gone full-on green guy, and I’d like to get the jump on him.”

Peter bounced over to him and said, “Hmm, maybe. Have you tried increasing the pressure on the hip joint?”

“No. Hmm… That could work.”

They fell into conversation about details of the armor that Ned, a genius himself, was lost in, and he focused on keeping the camera steady and getting them both in the shot.

This film wasn't going to be quite what they'd planned to make, but Ned thought using this as a chance to show Flash and the rest of their doubting classmates that Peter's internship was a real thing, that he was on a level with Tony Stark when it came to this stuff, was going to be way better than what they'd planned to make.

xXx

Ned had been filming for thirty minutes, and marveling at his best friend for even longer, when the door slid open behind him. He spun around, pointing the camera at a pretty woman with strawberry blonde hair, wearing a neat pantsuit and a knobbly scarf similar to the one the bot was wearing, except this was black and green.

“Oh… uh… hi,” he said when she stopped just inside the door and raised an eyebrow. “I’m Ned.”

The woman’s face transformed into a smile. “Of course! Peter’s told me so much about you. I’m Pepper Potts.”

She looked between Ned and the camera, which he only now realized was still filming. He hit the button to stop the recording and lowered it. She approached the table where Tony Stark and Peter were bent over the armor and talking in clipped sentences, which seemed to be some kind of shorthand. She cleared her throat, and when that failed to interrupt them, she tugged on their collars until they were both upright and turning to see who was bothering them.

Their reactions were synchronized and equal in intensity. Peter beamed and said, "Hey, Pepper. Nice scarf," and Tony held up a hand and said, "Nope, no way. I know that look, Pepper, and it's my day off. I told you I was doing the home movie thing with Peter today. I don't care who wants to speak to me, what you need signed, or what alien threat is touching down in Central Park; it's my day off."

She raised an eyebrow. "First of all, hello, Peter. How are you, sweetie?"

"I'm great. We're doing some fine-tuning on the Mark XLVIII. We're working with the theory that if we can displace some of the power from the upper body, which is mainly reliant on hydraulics anyway, we can increase the speed of movement for the lower body, which means Mr. Stark would be faster than The Hulk so could pin him down sooner, minimizing collateral damage.”

She listened to his rambling with a fond smile and then said, “That’s great, honey,” patted his cheek, and fixed her eyes on Tony Stark. “Second, when you put me in charge of the company, you put me in charge of when things happen, so if I have stuff for you to sign now, you’ll sign it, mister.”

Tony Stark glowered. “Do you have something for me to sign?”

“No. And no, there’s no one wanting to talk to you, either. I cleared your schedule so you and Peter could have this day together.” She drew a deep breath and raised her voice. “And finally, there is no alien threat descending on Central Park, but you and I both know that you and Peter would be there already if there was. Don’t act like Iron Man is some chore, Tony, when you and I both know that if I had my way—”

She stopped, and Tony Stark rose to his feet and pressed his lips to her. Peter looked away, humming and rubbing the back of his neck as the chaste kiss deepened, leaving Ned standing frozen, staring at them. It wasn't that he liked watching couples making out—he wasn't a creeper—but this was Tony Stark—Iron Man—getting his ass handed to him by Pepper Potts, who MJ had informed them was a feminist icon and general badass. It was like seeing two rare birds at once; at least that was what his grandfather would say since he was really into ornithology and used birds to reference pretty much everything in life.

“Okay, Ned,” Peter said, suddenly in his face, blocking his view of the kissing icons, for which he was grateful, and tugging on his arm. “Let’s go get something to eat. They’ll be going back and forth like this for a while.”

“They do this a lot?” Ned asked, not sure if he meant the reaming or the kissing.

Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled open the door and led Ned down the hall to the elevator. "The kissing? Yeah. It's getting worse the closer we get to the wedding. And Pepper giving Tony hell, yeah, they're always like that." He grinned.

They stepped into an elevator, and Peter instructed Friday to take them up to the eighty-ninth floor then planted a hand on Ned's shoulder and said, "Okay, Dude, we're going to see some people now, friends, and I need you to do something for me."

Ned nodded eagerly. “Sure, man, anything, you know that.”

Peter grinned. “I need you to remember to breathe.”

Puzzled, Ned opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but then the elevator doors were sliding open, and Peter was leading him into a vast room. There were couches and chairs set facing a huge TV, a kitchen area with a massive table, the biggest fridge Ned had ever seen, and a stove that had ten burners—he counted. As impressive as this room was, as much as his mom would kill to get to cook in the kitchen and his dad would want to watch the game on the monster TV, it was the people in the room that made his breath gust out of him and his brain forget how to replace it with new.

Captain America was sitting on the couch, his brow furrowed with concentration as he fumbled with a ball of yarn and two knitting needles. Beside him was a man Ned knew best from the news' courtroom footage of his trial and subsequent pardon for the crimes of the Winter Soldier—Sergeant James Barnes. Opposite them was a woman with red hair in a messy bun who Ned knew was the Black Widow—though the Black Widow never wore yoga pants and strappy tops on the TV. To top off the moment of insanity was the Doctor Bruce Banner, who was sliding cookies from a baking trap into a plate.

They all looked around as Peter called a greeting and introduced Ned, and so they had front seat views to the moment Ned’s legs, denied oxygen too long by Ned’s empty lungs, gave way, and his butt hit the carpet with a thump.

“Ned!” Peter cried, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay?”

Ned nodded, and then his brain kicked in and remembered how to breathe. Wonderful air flooded his lungs, his blood saturated with oxygen, and the ringing in his ears disappeared.

“You okay, kid?” Doctor Banner asked, coming to kneel beside them.

Ned nodded. “Yes, Doctor Banner, Sir, I just…”

Sergeant Barnes, who had got to his feet when Ned fell, narrowed his eyes and said, “You forgot to breathe.”

Cheeks blazing with embarrassment, Ned nodded and muttered. “Yes, sir.”

Peter helped him to his feet, and Doctor Banner guided him to a seat at the table with a hand on his elbow—more superhero DNA, this was the best day ever.

“I’ll get you some juice,” Peter said, patting Ned’s shoulder and going to the fridge, rooting in it and calling, “Hey, who drank all the orange juice?”

“I did,” the Black Widow called in reply. “Is that a problem?”

Peter turned around and fixed his eyes on her. “A problem? No, I guess not, but it’s kinda mean, Nat.”

She smirked. “I’ll run out and buy you some more if you want.”

Peter waved a hand. "It's okay. The orange was for me. Ned prefers apple." He poured a glass and brought it back to give to Ned with a knowing, "Drink up." It was as if he knew Ned's head was swimming, and he really needed the boost of sugar since his body was burning through it with the adrenaline caused by being in the same room as his heroes.

Ned took a sip and then froze as Doctor Banner picked his free hand up and pressed his fingers to his wrist. Yeah, Doctor Bruce Banner was taking his pulse. That was a thing that was happening.

How was Peter so calm with all this going on? Why wasn’t he freaking out?”

"It's fast but strong," Doctor Banner said, then patted Ned's shoulder. "You just sit quietly for a few minutes.” He turned away and addressed Peter. “If you’re out of juice, you can have some of my chocolate milk.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Peter said happily, then darted to the fridge to get his drink.

Ned stared at him in awe. Peter called Doctor Banner Bruce. Like he was just a person. Like they didn’t spend whole afternoons geeking out when they chose him to be the subject of their most accomplished scientist of the century essay in junior year.

What was Peter's life here, and how did Ned not know this?

And did Doctor Banner really drink chocolate milk?

He watched Peter pour himself a glass, drain it, and then pour another as The Black Widow wiped away his chocolate milk mustache with a fond smile.

Ned became aware of eyes on him, and he looked around. Captain Rogers was frowning at the yarn in his hands again, but his friend, Sergeant Barnes, was staring at Ned. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand on end, and his heart sped. If Doctor Banner checked it again, he was going to be very concerned. Ned was concerned. His heart was hammering against his ribs so hard that Ned almost expected to see it move the front of his hoodie.

He knew the Winter Soldier was dangerous and had done all kinds of awful things, but that was when he was under the control of Hydra, at least that was what his defense team said in court. He was supposed to be an American hero, really, like Captain America.

Ned thought that might be true, but he also thought Mr. Barnes was looking at him now with a view to causing some serious pain if he put a toe out of line.

“Uh, Peter,” he squeaked.

Peter stopped trying to brush the Black Widow's hands away as she messed with his hair, and his eyebrows rose, which made Ned sure his very real panic was showing. Peter looked between Ned and Mr. Barnes, who was still examining Ned, and a small frown appeared on his brows.

“Bucky, quit it,” he said, in the same tone Ned’s mom used when she caught him sneaking snacks out of the fridge before dinner. “Ned’s not a threat.”

Sergeant Barnes’ eyes moved from Ned to Peter and narrowed. “Are you sure?”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure. He’s my best friend. We go to school together and have for years. He is in no way a threat.”

Sergeant Barnes seemed to accept that as he nodded and then smiled. The difference the smile made was huge. He seemed suddenly kind and friendly, eager even as he said, "Book club later, Pete?"

Peter looked genuinely remorseful as he shook his head. “I can’t today, sorry. I’ve got to finish this project for school. We’re filming Mr. Stark for a day. We came up to get a snack and to give him a Pepper a moment alone. I’ll come over tomorrow, though, and we can talk about chapter ten.”

Sergeant Barnes nodded seriously, as if that was a binding agreement, and then relaxed back in his seat.

"Snacks!" Doctor Banner said, going to the counter and then delivering the plate of cookies to Ned and Peter, who had joined him. The Black Widow came to them, boosted herself up onto the table, crossed her legs, and grabbed a cookie.

Peter took one then nudged Ned until he did the same. He took a bite of the still-warm cookie and grinned. "It's really good."

“That’s because Bruce made them,” the Black Widow informed him. “He’s the best at desserts. If you want the savory stuff, you’ve got to talk to Steve or Bucky.” She gestured over her shoulder to where Captain America was knitting with little skill and occasional huffs of annoyance.

“Peter, why is Captain America knitting?” he whispered.

Peter laughed softly. “It’s a self-care thing. We, all of us, deal with nightmares after some of the things we've done, so Sam, our resident shrink, set us up with therapy tools. Mine is my photography, Bucky's is book club, Natasha's is—"

She cleared her throat and cut a hand across her mouth.

“Natasha’s is confidential,” Peter went on with a nod. “Point is, we’ve all got something, and Steve’s is knitting. He’s making us all scarves since his sweater attempts were…”

“Disastrous,” Sergeant Barnes said with a nod. “Yep.”

Ned’s mind was reeling. This was crazy. He wondered if he was the only civilian to see this side of the superheroes. The Hulk baked cookies and drank chocolate milk, Captain America knitted sweaters, Iron Man scolded his robots and put dunce caps and scarves on them. And this was Peter’s life. He was perfectly happy here with them, relaxed; it was like they were more than his friends, like family.

The Black Widow looked between Ned and Captain America and grinned, then whistled around her fingers and said, “Rogers! Report!”  

Captain America jolted as if shocked, dropped his yarn and jumped to his feet, and said, “What’s wrong?”

Peter laughed, and Natasha smirked. "Peter's brought a friend for us to meet."

“This is Ned, Steve,” Peter supplied. “Ned, this is—”

“Captain America. You’re…” Ned drew a shaky breath. “Wow.”

Captain America was the hero to him. He’d been raised on the comics and stories of him. Sure, Iron Man was great, and Ned knew Peter idolized him since he was a kid, but Captain America was the one that Ned had admired most. He'd gone from scrawny and weak to buff and fast, which was cool, and then he’d gone behind enemy lines to save his friend and four-hundred others without backup. That was hardcore superhero stuff. He was the first avenger.

“Nice to meet you, Ned,” Captain America said, coming to him and holding out a hand.

Ned stared at it a moment too long, his mind reeling, and then shook it, hoping his palm wasn’t too sweaty because he was really nervous.

Captain America pumped his hand up and down twice, gave it a small squeeze, then dropped it and said, “So, Ned, what do you do?”

“I… uh… I like computers,” Ned said.

Captain America frowned slightly. “I don’t know much about them, but that sounds great. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine.” His eyes widened as if struck with an idea. “Hey, Ned, do you want a scarf?”

Ned’s mouth dropped open, and he forgot how to close it. Captain America was offering him a scarf. He was going to knit him one. Sure, the fact Captain America apparently liked knitting was insane, but the thought that Ned might get something made for him was amazing.

“I’d love a scarf, sir,” he said. “That’d be great.”

Captain America nodded, grinned, then went to the corner where there was a bag of balls of yarn, which he began to pluck out one by one and say, "Green? Or yellow? Or would you like one with Spider-Man colors like Peter's?" His eyes flickered to Peter. "Where is your scarf, Peter?"

“I lent it to Aunt May,” Peter said with a small smile. “She was getting cold going to work for the night shift.”

Captain America beamed. “That’s kind of you. I’ll make her one, too, when I’ve finished your friend’s. So, Ned, colors?”

“Anything would be fine,” Ned said a little shakily; he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact he was having a conversation with his hero.

Captain America pulled out two balls of yarn, new knitting needles, then went back to the couch and got to work.

“Tell us a little about yourself, Ned,” Doctor Banner said. “What do you like to do with computers?”

“Uh… everything, really. I like programming best, but I’m pretty good at hacking, too.”

Peter laughed. “Ned hacked my suit and unlocked all the features Mr. Stark had blocked off. He’s a genius!”

Ned grinned, bolstered by Peter’s enthusiasm and admiration. “Yeah, that was pretty tough. He had a hardcore firewall to get through, but I managed it.”

“It was pretty tough?” a voice said behind them.

Ned spun so fast he fell off his chair, landing on his butt for the second time with a loud, "Oof." He blinked up at Tony Stark, who was looking down at him with a carefully neutral face but a gleam in his eyes.

Ned thought he looked dangerous.

“You’re the one that hacked my suit…. Ted?”

Ned licked his lips. “Uh… yes, sir.”

"Mr. Stark, he didn't want to," Peter said, rushing to his defense. "I made him do it."

Tony Stark held up a hand and said, “Zip it, Underoos.” He fixed his eyes on Ned and said, “How long did it take you?”

“Uh… a few minutes.”

His eyes widened a little, then a small smile quirked his lips. “It took you a few minutes to hack through my tech, my firewall, and unlock the features I knew Peter wasn’t ready for?”

Ned gulped and winced. “Yes, sir.”

“Hmm…”

Ned thought he could see anger building behind Mr. Stark’s mask, and he squeezed his eyes shut and flinched away. A strong hand gripped his wrist and yanked him to his feet. He still didn’t open his eyes, not until a callused hand tapped his cheek and an amused voice said, “Breathe, kid, and look at me.” Ned forced himself to obey, meeting Tony's Stark's eye and waiting for the explosion. Instead of an explosion, though, Tony Stark smiled, showing his teeth in the way Ned had seen in magazines over the years, some of which made it into Peter's scrapbook, and said, "So, kid, you got much free time?"

"Oh. I, uh, I mean have school, and I'm in band, and I'm on the decathlon team, so not much, but—”

Tony Stark held up a hand. "You want an internship with my tech department?"

Ned's heart skipped, and he mouthed wordlessly.

“Speak!” Tony Stark instructed.

“Yes,” Ned squeaked. “I’d like that a lot, Mr. Iron Man, Sir.”

Peter grinned and clapped Ned on the shoulder. “Awesome. We get to do this together.”

“You can do some together," Tony Stark said. "I'm not having this place turn into daycare. Ted will have his assigned mentor, and you'll have me. You don't get to drag more of your little friends here in hopes of them getting a job."

“A job?” Ned said weakly. “I thought it was an internship. You don’t pay interns.”

“You don’t,” Tony Stark agreed. “And you two don’t tell anyone else that you’re getting anything more than experience from it, understand?”

Ned nodded.  “I understand.”

Peter clapped Ned on the shoulder and said, “We don’t get paid, though we have an all you can eat option in the cafeteria, but Mr. Stark pays for our college through the September Foundation.”

Ned gaped. He knew his parents were worried about paying for his college, and he’d applied for scholarships, but if this was for real, he could afford to go out of state the way he wanted. He could apply to the places he really wanted to study instead of where he thought his parents could afford.

“You thought much about college?” Tony Stark asked.

“Uh, a little, yeah.”

“MIT on your radar?” he asked. “That’s where Underoos is going.”

“It’s where I might be going, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I’ve got heard back yet.”

Tony Stark ruffled Peter’s hair and said, “Kid, with your brains and my letter of recommendation, they’d be nuts not to accept you.” He turned back to Ned. “I want you here after school two days a week, with Peter, and you can come to the compound for weekends. Give me a month to get a report from your mentor on what you’re coming up with, and I’ll see about writing you a recommendation, too.”

“I… uh… huh… Ya…” Ned sputtered inarticulately, totally overwhelmed, and Peter placed his hand on his shoulder and said, “That’s Ned for, thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony Stark nodded and ran a hand through hair. “Now, kids, you going to get this filming thing done. I’ve been informed by my fiancé that I’m booked solid tomorrow with wedding prep, so you’ve got today with me and no more.”

Peter nodded eagerly and said, “Shall we go back to the lab. We need to do the interview portion now, and then maybe some domestic scenes.”

“Domestic? Think who you’re talking to, kid. I don’t do domestic?”

Peter snorted, and Ned looked around the room. The Black Widow was dunking cookies in Peter’s chocolate milk, Doctor Banner was wiping down the counters, Sergeant Barnes was reading on the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Captain America was knitting.

Maybe Tony Stark was the exception, but Ned didn't think there was much more domestic than this. And Peter was a part of it. These people were his family.

Ned had come here to see a day in the life of Tony Stark, but he thought he’d seen more of his best friend’s life than his, and now, with this internship, he was being given a small part of it.

This was the best assignment ever.

[bambisfuneral]

Warnings: Mentions of suicide

Ｅｎｔｅｒ ｐａｓｓｗｏｒｄ： ＊＊＊＊＊

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Ｗｅｌｃｏｍｅ Ｇｕｅｓｔ Ｕｓｅｒ

——————————————————————————

Sunlight soon covered your half sleeping form, it made you throw your arm over your face to shield you eyes from the light. After what felt like ten minutes which was only ten seconds, you slowly sat up and stared at the bulletin board that hung above your desk. Instead of there being only two pictures, there were now four. The first one was a candid picture of you writing in her notebook, the second one was of Tendou with a wide smile holding up a peace sign and you in the background pouting at him.

“So you know how I said I used to be in your same position? I used to be a patient too, and in this psych ward. I just kinda..... I didn’t have anybody else admit me here I signed myself up, but with the way people treated me and how they talked to me, it sorta felt like they were the ones that made me sign up. It was like everything I did and said was wrong. Y’know I played volleyball when I was in school? That was where my heart was at, but people took it so serious. Like what’s the point in playing if you can’t have fun doing it?” I listened intently to everything he said nodding in agreement, it did suck being treated like you were beneath any and everybody so I knew how Tendou felt.

“That was my paradise, but my last year of high school, my team lost nationals and after that, volleyball for me was no more. Actually, all those guys you seen in the staff room? We were all on the same team, he wasn’t here but this guy Ushijima, I think he was my first true friend. He was never scared of me! To him, I was just another guy. Can you believe that? I was actually normal to somebody for once, I was never a monster. But I didn’t know that growing up, I was so used to people calling me a monster that I eventually became one........”

Tendou had stopped talking and I looked up from the food he gave me to look at him, he was looking up at the stars and he had a longing look on his face. Eventually a small smile replaced that, “I was lucky though, I healed eventually. Not everybody gets the chance to do that, so I wanted to do better and be better. So I went to college to be certified to be a doctor here, it feels nice being able to connect with people in this field. And then it feels even better knowing you played a part in making other people feel like they’re something, even if it’s just for a second”. He had looked over at me and his smile grew, “oh by the way, that’s Semi’s left overs so you might wanna thank him for that the next time you see him”.

The memory swallowed your mind and it was like you was glued to her bed as your eyes stuck to the picture of the red-haired doctor, he was an odd one. But he kept you company and was definitely a lot more accommodating than most doctors. Maybe you should just relax today. You rolled your eyes crossing your arms stubbornly. I’m being serious Y/N, you beat yourself up a lot for things that aren’t your fault. You don’t want Satori to come back tomorrow figuring out that you’re putting yourself in an unfixable predicament. “Kenma it’s fine! I told you that I got it under control, I’ve been feeling okay” Yeah Tendou’s right, you are full of shit. You watched Kenma hop up on your desk swinging his legs, “Oh I didn’t realize I was here to get tag teamed by you two” and you’re right, you’re not. You’re here to get better, but you can’t do that if you’re making yourself feel like crap all the time. I’m telling you, being around Satori’s gonna be a good change for you. You bit your lip and changed into a fresh set of clothes tossing your dirty ones in a corner.

“Hey doll, I know you’re not gonna like this very much, but I’m not gonna be here tomorrow. I got the day off and I got things I need to do, but I’ll drop you off some lunch and dinner so you don’t gotta eat the crap that they serve in the cafeteria. So.... what do you like?”

“So what am I supposed to do when he’s gone?” You muttered to yourself frowning. Ummm maybe socialize? Go eat breakfast? Maybe go talk to one of Satori’s co-workers? Kenma was talking to you like you were slow and it frustrated you but knowing he was just looking out for you, you decided to let it go. “Okay well I guess we can find that one guy I’ll Dr. Tendou was talking to in the staff room last night, it’d be easier if I could just ask around but I don’t know his-” Dr. Semi Eita, you’re welcome.

“Okay so it’s your turn to share now, and IIIII knooow you want to ask me stuff. I can see it on your face” Tendou’s eyes to match his sly smirk and he poked my cheek repeatedly before I slapped his hand away, “I mean.... you said you weren’t mad but I’ve never seen you lash out like that and it didn’t happen until after you and that guy talked”. I watched as his smirk dropped and his eyes darkened, “Doll you’ve never seen me lash out, not even in the least. So listen to me when I say I wasn’t mad. Now what else’s on your mind?” My lips pursed to the side as I looked away from him and clenched my fists together on my lap, his hands covered mine and he slowly opened my fists. I could tell by his gaze that he was still waiting for me to answer his question.

You walked up to the marbled counter with a glass wall surrounded it, behind the glass was an older bigger woman with brown hair which was starting to grey. Her fingers cracked against the keyboards for what seemed like a good five minutes before she stopped and looked up at you coldly. The woman was looking at her over her glass before pushing the frames to the bridge of her nose, “can I help you?”. You looked over at Kenma nervously and he was leaning against the wall with a thumbs up, you just huffed and turned back to the lady behind the counter. “Yes um.....” Y/N...... I swear, you spent eight minutes in your room just trying to figure out what you had to say and you spent an extra ten minutes reciting what you were planning on saying. Stop overthinking it and get it over with. This made her eyes widen and fists clench tightly, “I was wondering if I could see Dr. Semi? I’m assigned to Dr. Tendou but he’s not here today and he said if I needed to talk to somebody then to ask one of his doctor friends”

There was a moment of silence with the lady staring at her with amusement dancing in her eyes. A few seconds passed by before she pressed one of the buttons on a metal board off to the side, “Dr. Semi? Yes you have a patient here to talk to you, so if you would just come around to the front to come get her that’d be great. She said she’s one of Dr. Tendou’s patients”

“I was wondering if tonight could be our first official solo therapy? And maybe whenever we have them, we can have them up here?” I asked meekly only to be met with silence and then a thundering laugh, “That’s all? Yeah I doubt that was the only thing that’s been going through your brain these passed thirty minutes”. My lips curled downward while I shook my head, “Obviously not but I can’t just sit here and dump all my thoughts on you all at once!” A small smile was given to me which seem like a sign of appreciation, “Okay well we can start with that solo therapy then, how’s every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday at eight sound?”

The man from last night came around the wall next to the counter and gave you a warm smile. “Dr. Semi?” He just nodded and reached his hand out for you to grab, “You can just call me Semi, it’s fine. Let’s go into my office” you followed behind him and you looked back to see Kenma grinning to himself. He gave you a reassuring smile before turning to leave, you wanted to call out after him but you felt eyes boring into the side of your head. When you turned back to face Tendou’s co-worker, he was looking at you with a patient look but sort of threw his head motioning to go walk inside his office, so into his office you went. As soon as you walked in he patted the other end of the sleek burgundy couch he was sitting on, “so, is everything okay? Tendou told you he was off today right?”

You just nodded your head making yourself comfortable on the cold material you were sitting on, “Yeah I just wanted to know if he’s gonna be back tomorrow, and I was kinda wondering if I could have a solo therapy session with you? And maybe you could record it so you can show it to Dr. Tendou?” Semi smiled softly at you nodding. “Yeah, of course! I’m assuming that things are going smoothly with you and him because of what you just asked of me? And thank you for feeling comfortable enough to talk with me” This made you mirror the smile on his face as you dropped your hands in your lap, “Yeah! I was pretty indifferent at first, but Kenma convinced me that this would be good for me. And yeah, I figured that if Satori knew you in high school and you were still friends that you couldn’t be all that bad. Especially with how he is....... but I have a question”

Demi’s eyebrows quirked up at the use of Tendou’s first name, he barely allows anybody to use his first name so it took him by surprise, his predicament must’ve been more serious than he let on. He stayed quiet but gestured for you to continue with your question, “Last night when you and him were talking, why did he ended up so...... not mad but....” you didn’t even know what to say to described how he was and how it felt being near him during that ride up to the roof but it seemed like Semi understood what you meant because he chuckled knowingly.

“Yeah see, it’s not really my place to tell you this, but I’m sure Tendou’s already told you about him being a passed patient here. He gets a certain attachment to people easily and he used to be very co-dependent to the individuals he was attached to, it was very unhealthy what he was going through. He’s actually still bettering himself about it. So he was just telling me some things and I was trying to understand the situation and tell him that things aren’t always what they seem, then he just..... sort of became frustrated. It’s hard to explain but I hope you understand, maybe tomorrow you can talk to him about it. Now about that session, let’s begin?” You nodded and on cue he hit the recording button on his voice recorder, “So Miss Y/N, why are you here?”

“So doll, are you gonna tell me why you’re here? Did you sign yourself up orrr....” Tendou didn’t finish the last part to his sentence but I understood where he was going with it, “um..... okay so I was actually signed up by my parents, back in my first year of high school. The doctors at the ward I was assigned to said nothing was wrong with me, but then my parents told them about my habits, how I acted, what I did, all that fun stuff, and so the doctors deemed me to have a type two bipolar disorder, schizophrenic, aaaand a compulsive liar”. I seen Tendou grinned to myself and my brow raised in confusion, “Yeah I seen the compulsive liar part in your files and I started questioning that, cause you haven’t been showing any signs of being a liar”

I huffed and rolled my eyes in irritation, “it’s because I’m not! My parents were so hellbent on trying to convince them that I was suicidal, but I’m not and I never was! I just know my life’s gonna be cut short eventually. But it’s life, it happens to everybody eventually so I was never phased by it and they just deemed it as me being suicidal...... okay so I lied, I was suicidal but that wasn’t until after they prescribed me Zoloft because of my bipolar disorder. After they started making me take Zoloft I was in a very dark place. I wouldn’t take showers for days, I never wanted to get up, I woke up everyday not seeing the purpose in life so I never wanted to do anything....... I was at the lowest of the low and I didn’t know what to do.”

I looked over at Tendou trying to read his face but he just smiled at me almost innocently which gave me the confidence to keep talking, “okay so this went on until I graduated high school. They had me taking online courses which didn’t go too well. But guess what? It turns out that the doctors at that specific ward were giving all the patients that were showing even a minor sign of being upset Zoloft because they knew that the patient would eventually commit suicide. So the ward shut down” the disgusted look on Tendou’s face matched mine and he frowned deeply. “It took..... three years for them to get that piece of shit ward to get shut down? That’s beyond me” I just exhaled a breath and pursed my lips, “Yeah I know, but they just ended up transferring me to a different ward but I was legally an adult so they gave me a choice and well..... I have a friend, he’s actually in this ward also! He actually convinced me to stay, but not for him. It was for my own benefit, me and him have been friends since elementary school!”

Tendou had a look of shock and confusion on his face, “oh..... really? What’s his name?” I nodded my head happily and smiled widely. “Kozume Kenma!”

Ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｓｕｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｗｏｕｌｄ

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Ｗｅｌｃｏｍｅ Ｄｒ． Ｔｅｎｄｏｕ

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Tendou had just walked you back to your room and he was headed back to the staff room with long and fast steps, when he reached the door it swung open due to the force of him pushing against it. It slammed against the wall behind it and his friends were once again still sitting down at the table bewildered, “Tendou? What’s wrong?” He shook his head conflicted before pointing at his silver haired co-worker. “Come with me”

He led him into his office and walked up to his computer without closing the door behind him or sitting on his chair, he just pushed it out of the way. His fingers slammed against the keys rapidly, “What’s wrong now Tendou?” Semi came up behind him with a puzzled expression. Tendou just stayed quiet and kept typing on his computer, “Okay so look, Y/N said that she has a friend at this ward right? But if you look in our files, there are no results for a Kozume Kenma” Tendou mocked Y/N’s voice when he said his name, “She also mentioned that he was roomed with her. Buuuuuut if you got to the files of the first ward she was at, their files say a guy named Terashima was roomed with her”

Semi sucked a breath in before thinking silently, “We could make a call to the second ward she was transferred to and ask the big guys that work there about her” Tendou nodded deep in thought. “Yeah.... yeah that could work” it was silent as the phone line rang, Tendou tapped his fingers against his desk timidly and Semi was sitting down on the previously unoccupied rolly chair. The phone rang a few more times before a deep voice answered, and Tendou made eye contact with Semi. “Yeah this is Doctor Tendou Satori at the Shiratorizawa Psych Ward, who am I talking to?......Alright Mr. Kuroo, well I’m assigned to this woman, L/N F/N, that was recently transferred from you guys. She told me about a Kozume Kenma but there are no results of one in your files?”, Tendou hit the speaker button and the voice on the other line inhaled deeply before letting out a long sigh.

“Yeah..... there was no Kozume Kenma in our ward. But the three of us were friends growing up, Kenma actually committed suicide when we were in secondary school. That was when Y/N started showing major signs of depression and schizophrenia, she started seeing and hearing Kenma everywhere she went but when she transferred to our ward, I made sure that I was the one assigned to look after her. It seemed like she was getting better but I could tell being around me was holding her back from fully healing, so I transferred her again.” It was like Tendou and Semi were having a staring contest the entire time, Tendou’s lips were parted with a loss of words.

“Oh..... alright thank you for this new information, well have a good rest of your ni-” He was cut off by Kuroo, “Hey listen.... Tendou was it? How’s she doing? How is Y/N?” Tendou sucked air through his teeth feeling lost. “I thought it was going pretty good, but with what you just told me? It’s like I’m back at square one with her” The line was silent before a knock was heard on the other side, “Okay look, I gotta go but I’ll email you my personal number alright? We can talk more about it if you want, and maybe.... you can keep me updated on her?” He just nodded like the man was right in front of him to see.

“Sure thing, alright I’ll let you go. Have a good one” The phone clicked and Tendou sighed letting his head drop, “Semi?....... I gotta do it” he turned his head to the side to meet eyes with his friend and Semi just sighed crossing his arms. “Only if you genuinely feel like it’ll better her wellbeing”

Ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｓｕｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｗｏｕｌｄ

ｌｉｋｅ ｔｏ ｓｉｇｎ ｏｕｔ？

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[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous)

Flamebringer walked into the Doctor’s office with an annoyed expression. “Doctor.”

“Ah, yes, Flamebringer.” She tapped her notes, a smile on her face. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you were reprimanded by your squad lead for gross misconduct in the field. You’re here for your sentencing.”

“I did nothing wrong, and you know it-”

The Doctor held up her hand. “This is not about your guilt, only your punishment. Which, in this case, is this: You will be spending the next two months out of the field minding Ifrit.”

“...Babysitting?” His left eye began twitching. “You want me to spend the next two months babysitting-”

“Be glad that’s all I’m doing, Flamebringer; last time something like this happened, the guilty party lost a week’s pay.”

He sighed. “This is bullshit.”

“Tell it to your team lead.” The Doctor checked her notes. “Ifrit should be in her room right now. Get to it.”

“I swear by my ever-thirsting blade, you’ll pay for this.” With that Flamebringer left to find his charge, cursing his luck. He’d heard about Ifrit from some of the other Operators, and while he’d never met her...He had his concerns.

He found her in her room as suggested, writing in a notebook. “Ifrit?”

“What do you want-” She looked up at him, blinking twice. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m not surprised. The Doctor said I’m looking after you for the next two months.”

Ifrit’s eyes lit up. “They sent another one? Yes! I love when they give me victims!”

“Victims?” Flamebringer scoffed. “What do you do to these caretakers of yours?”

“Put them through a trial by fire.” She snapped her fingers, and a small flame appeared on her fingertips.

He smiled. “So you like to make trouble, then?”

“I like doing what I want and having no one stop me!” Ifrit’s hand snuffed out as she turned back to her paper. “Which, right now, is coloring this picture for Silence.”

“Heh...Alright. Let me know when that changes.” With that, Flamebringer closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall.

She looked back at him. “You mean you’re not gonna try and tell me what to do?”

“Why should I stop you from coloring?” He shrugged. “Just don’t make things worse for me, and we won’t have any problems.”

“Huh. Guess they’re getting soft, aren’t they?”

Flamebringer sighed. “If this is soft, I’d rather they just flay me.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad-”

“Not about you,” he interrupted. “I have battles to fight and foes to slay, but instead I’m watching a devil-child play.”

Ifrit set her colored pencil down. “That’s rough, buddy. They’ve kept me cooped up in here since I burnt down the cafeteria that one time.”

“That was you? They had fish tacos that day, so I didn’t eat there, but it sounded like a roaring good fire.”

“They didn’t give me my second pudding,” she smirked. “You mess with the Ifrit, you get the inferno! Fwoosh!” As she made the sound, she threw her hands in front of her, and a gout of fire rushed towards the ceiling to no detrimental effect.

Flamebringer nodded. “Relatable...I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I won’t, but thanks!”

-

A few weeks later, Flamebringer took Ifrit with him to the Garden. “You promise you won’t set anything on fire?”

“Why would I? I like plants.” She had one hand in his, the other swinging back and forth merrily. “Besides, we’re going to see your girlfriend, right?”

“That we are,” he admitted.

“Hey, I get it. Don’t wanna spend all your time with me, so I get a field trip and you get a little alone time with your girl.” Ifrit smirked. “Not the first time my ‘sitter’s done that one.”

He laughed. “I thought you put them through ‘trials by fire?’”

“Well, yeah, but after awhile you gotta let them off the hook so the next time you get them, it stings more.”

“You’re a devilish girl, aren’t you?” Flamebringer ruffled her hair, earning a glare but no burns. “If you behave, we’ll get ice cream later.”

She saluted him. “I’ll be an absolute Sankta.”

“Good...Before you run off, though, let me introduce her to you.”

“Oh! Okay.” Ifrit squeezed his hand. “You know, I heard some people talking about you at lunch awhile ago. Said you were a hothead yourself. Is that why they put you in charge of me?”

He glared in the general direction of reality. “They framed me for destroying something that wasn’t my fault. I think they do it whenever Silence is going out of town.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right...I wouldn’t mind if you stuck around after she came back, though.”

“Oh yeah?” The glare disappeared, replaced with a smirk. “Because I don’t give a damn about your threats and treat you like a person?”

She winked. “Because you give me ice cream.”

“About the same, really. Lena, I’m here!” Flamebringer called out into the verdant paradise called the Garden.

“Flame?” She peered out from behind a nearby rhododendron. “Ah. I see you brought a guest?”

He nodded. “Lena, this is Ifrit, my ward for the next month or so; Ifrit, this is Lena, whom I love very much.”

“Hi!” Ifrit beamed at her.

Perfumer glanced between the two of them. “Flame, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he agreed before turning to Ifrit. “Remember: no fire, ice cream afterward.”

“How could I forget?” With that, she wandered off into the greenery, and Flamebringer was left alone with his beloved.

Lena kissed his cheek before looking off in the direction the fire-breather had run off along. “Is it safe to let her freely roam the Garden like this? If I remember correctly, she doesn’t have the best control of her abilities.”

“Her control is fine. It’s her temper that bests her most often.” He smiled. “However, if this experience has taught me anything, it’s that I’m more than prepared for fatherhood when the time comes.”

“Fu-fu-fu. Is that a proposal I hear?”

Flamebringer’s face fell slightly. “Once I have a ring, it will be-”

“Hey, Flamebringer!” Footsteps dashed over to them, followed by an Ifrit. “Miss Lena, can I take a flower with me? I wanna give it to Silence when she gets back.”

“Hmm...Show us the one you want, and we’ll see what we can do.”

She walked them over to a sunflower fully in bloom. “I want this one!”

“That’s...difficult.” Lena looked to Flamebringer. “Are you willing to help her keep it alive that long?”

“It’ll be a good project for her. You willing to take care of it yourself?”

Ifrit nodded. “You make it sound fun.”

“Flame,” Lena gently scolded him, “you shouldn’t lie to children.”

“She’s not a child in that sense, and I didn’t lie.”

She sighed. “No, but I imagine you made it sound easier than it will be for her.”

“Hey, I can take care of things!” Ifrit took a crayon out of her pocket. “I’d had this for over a month and haven’t melted it yet.”

“...Heaven help you, Flame. We’ll set it up so you can take it home.”

Ifrit nodded. “Thanks! You can go back to your alone time, though. Find me when you’re done!”

-

Over a month later, and still, Flamebringer hadn’t had a single issue with Ifrit. She was temperamental, but so was he; she’d suffered some outright egregious things, but so had he; she loved burning Reunion goons to a crisp, and he relished the chance to cut them down. It was good conversation, good training for when he was ready to start his life with Perfumer, and most importantly, it wasn’t nearly as punishing as the Doctor had made it out to be.

Until, that is, on the last day of their allotted time together, when he walked into her room and found the sunflower they’d work so hard to care for the past month in ashes, and Ifrit crying on her bed. Flamebringer took a deep breath, channeled it into a deep sigh, and walked over to her. “I see the flower is dead. What happened?”

“She’s not going to be back for another month,” she sulked. “She promised to take me to the festival, and she’s not going to be back for another month.”

“And what did the flower do?”

Ifrit turned to glare at him. “The flower did...nothing.”

“That’s right.” He sighed. “We worked really hard on that, didn’t we?”

“We did...I’m s-sorry.” She pulled him towards her to bury her face in his jacket, crying.

Flamebringer, a little awkwardly at first, wrapped her into a proper hug. “It’s alright, Ifrit. I understand.”

“B-but today’s your last day with me, and that was all I had to remember it by!” She cried harder. “I didn’t mean to kill it, I promise!”

“I know, I know...Is that really all you had of our time together?”

Ifrit’s response was a chorus of sobs.

“Well, then.” He let her finish the worst of it before pulling away to look her in the eye, wiping stray tears with his hand. “We should fix that.”

“What do you mean? What can we do in one day?”

Flamebringer smiled. “We can go to this festival of yours.”

“B-but it’s off-base, and tomorrow, and-”

“So what?” He ran a hand through her hair. “You want to go, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then we’re going. I’ll be back tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay.” Ifrit by this point had calmed down. “I’m going to draw you a picture today, then.”

He smiled. “Alright. Can I have a pencil and a paper as well?”

“Yeah...so long as it’s not red.”

“Hmm...” Flamebringer sighed. “Black will be fine then.”

She grabbed a paper and a black pencil, but before she handed them to him, she gave him another hug. “You’re the best, bro.”

“Bro?”

“You’re way better than any of the other people who’ve come to take care of me,” she asserted, “and I’ve always wanted a brother, which won’t happen since Saria and Silence won’t stop fighting, so...You’re Bro now.”

He thought about it for a moment before smirking. “Whatever you say, Sis. Whatever you say.”

[ptersparkers]

at the end of the day (chapter one)

summary: there are two gigantic mysteries in your life and one of them includes peter parker not seeming to like you. you can stand him not being your friend but being in the same friend group? that should be easy, right?

a/n: sO i have this idea for a story in my head and there will be some slow updates coming but i’m excited about this one and lets HOPE i finish it hA. also i don’t know if this is gonna be more than a few “chapters” so we’ll see when i do with part two and i’ll decide from there! 💖

warnings: some angst but it’s not too serious

editied by: @jinxes-and-hexes! (everyone say ‘thank you’ because we all know i make too many typos).

masterlist / taglist / series masterlist

Peter Parker did not like you.

The reason? You didn’t know. You joined Midtown Tech your sophomore year and became friends with Peter’s “group” during February of the second semester. It was now the start of your junior year and you still couldn’t figure out why Peter had always given you the cold shoulder.

At first, you rationalized that he wasn’t keen on meeting new people. You got that, really, because meeting people you don’t know can make for an awkward situation and make people anxious overall. But weeks flew by and even MJ warmed up to you but the ever so bubbly Peter Parker that Ned was always talking about was nowhere in sight.

He was never outwardly mean to you but it was the little things you noticed. Like when he would scoot further away from you in the cafeteria or not invite you to a small get together if he was the one planning, even when you were with him. It was when he avoided eye contact and asked MJ to switch seats with him so he wouldn’t have to sit next to you in the backseat of Betty’s car and it was when he ignored you whenever you talked about the high marks you got on your biochemistry final.

You think that those subtle gestures hurt more than him telling you he doesn’t like you.

You hadn’t really spoken to Peter, per se. In the beginning, you both were trying to make awkward small talk for the sake of making friends, but when you clicked with Ned, Peter gave up. You quit trying a little later and you were positive the rest of your friend group tried to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

You were accustomed to people not telling you things, but you wish you weren’t. You learned from your mother that it was best not to pry if people didn’t want to tell you something. After all, you learned you should never ask about your father when she had threatened to pull you out of Midtown Tech if you asked her about him one more time.

So when Peter completely stopped talking to you unless necessary, you didn’t bother asking him why he didn’t like you.

Not that you weren’t intrigued by the reasoning behind it, if any at all, but you were in no place to ask him because you didn’t really know him and you had just met him that year. Talk about an awkward situation.

So you’d sit in the cafeteria and laugh at Ned’s Star Wars puns and peek over MJ’s shoulders when she’s reading or on her phone, and listen intently to Betty’s school gossip to distract yourself from looking at Peter. You felt so uncomfortable and awkward knowing one person in your friend group wasn’t making an effort to be your friend.

But you pulled through because you hadn’t managed to become close with other people like you had with this group and you weren’t about to let one bad seed ruin the bunch.

“I think I failed the Spanish quiz,” Ned said with a sigh.

“Oh, why’s that?” you asked.

“I tried to remember everything I studied but nothing worked. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he said, groaning.

“I’m sure Anna wouldn’t mind tutoring you,” you suggested. “She helped MJ get pretty good test results.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Ned said dramatically as he gripped the straps of his backpack. “I gotta run to a doctor’s appointment. See you tomorrow?”

“See ya!” you said with a two-finger salute. You turned around in the opposite direction to walk home when you collided with Peter.

“O-Oh,” you said, regaining your balance. “Sorry Peter.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly before walking away and ducking his head, not making eye contact with you once. You sighed, not expecting anything less but still disappointed in the outcome.

“He’s being weird,” MJ commented. “I think this is one mystery I can’t solve.”

“Great,” you said, exasperated. “You’re the most perceptive person I know and if you can’t figure out what’s wrong with Peter, no one can.”

“He’s been a bit strange, lately,” said MJ. “Disconnected, for sure. He leaves us a lot and backs out of plans last minute. Peter didn’t use to do that but after getting that Stark Internship, he’s been at Stark’s beck and will.”

“Oh, right, the internship,” you said. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“None of us would. He doesn’t talk about it and when he does, his job description seems to be all over the place. I mean, who fetches coffee and works with technology?” she asked rhetorically. “It’s whatever. Don’t take it too personally, okay?”

“It’s hard when he literally ignores me all the time,” you said, falling into step with MJ.

“The kid’s weird.”

“You guys are the same age.”

“I’m wise. Like, in my seventies, wise.”

“Touché,” you said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, MJ.”

***

You sat against the bed frame with a pillow propped up against your back, an iced coffee by your nightstand, and your computer on your lap. The bottom was warm after long use but you paid no attention as your eyes scanned the monitor. A digital copy of your birth certificate sat right in front of you with your mother’s name, your name, but no father listed. The blank space filled your thoughts with doubt and curiosity.

You didn’t know where to look. Being that your mother despised talking about your father, she gave you a copy of your birth certificate to prove that your father was a no-good person and she meant for that to be a reminder that you didn’t need to worry about him. But it fueled your interest even more.

You weren’t sure where you got your love for computer science from, but you were able to type on a keyboard at an early age. Add in a few extra classes during summertime at a community college, and you were good to go. Now, you were skilled enough to locate backdoor entrances to mainframes and encrypted hotlines in order to access data that wasn’t being shown to the public. Was it legal? Perhaps, perhaps not. It was still a gray area but you didn’t venture very far when you had accidentally gained access to Midtown’s security system and found out you could change student information from your computer at home, much like Ferris Bueller did when he lowered the amount of days he had been absent.

With this knowledge, you tried everything you could. Whether that be trying a family lineage website or hacking into your hospital medical records (to no avail), everything seemed to turn up empty and lead you down a path that was always cold.

You had considered asking the Avengers for help, but you didn’t know if they made house calls or responded to teenage girls who wanted to know who their father was. You didn’t think your conundrum, compared to what they dealt with, was that important.

So, you sighed and closed your laptop in frustration with yet another afternoon of relentless curiosity that led you nowhere. You sipped on your iced coffee from the metal straw before hearing a slurping sound and put the cup on the stand, telling yourself you’d take care of it later and decided to take a short nap, dreaming of two things: finding the identity of your father and finding out why Peter didn’t like you.

Across town, Peter and Ned were casually hanging out in Peter’s bedroom when Ned asked a question.

“How come you don’t like Y/N?”

Peter looked at him with surprise.

“W-What do you mean? Of course I like Y/N. She hangs out with us all the time.”

“Yeah, but you never talk to her,” he pointed out. “And when she tries to talk to you, you try to cut the conversation short or try to avoid her altogether. That’s weird, man.”

“I do not,” Peter said. Ned gave him a look. “I just don’t think we click.”

“How would you know that? You’ve never spent time with her alone and you don’t talk to her.”

“Call it a gut feeling,” he muttered.

“Peter, that’s really unfair to Y/N because you’re not giving her a chance to prove herself. You’re judging her without getting to know her.”

“Can we just drop it, Ned?” Peter pleaded. “You sound like MJ and I don’t need to be scolded today.”

Ned sighed, obviously torn between wanting to respect his best friend’s wishes, but also trying to put you in a good light because he genuinely cares for you. He was in the crossfire and in an awkward spot but he knew that he didn’t want to lose either of you any time soon.

“Maybe you should ask her to hang out.”

“Ned,” Peter said, more sternly this time.

“Okay, okay. No more Y/N talk, got it.”

There was an awkward minute of silence before Ned spoke up again.

“So, uh, how are things going with your Spider-Man gig?”

“Pretty good,” Peter said, his mood changing almost instantly. Ned was grateful that he was distracted with Spider-Man talk. “Mr. Stark’s upgrading my suit a little and he’s updating Karen, adding some defensive-combat skills. I don’t really know what that means but he said he’d show me this weekend.”

“Being an Avenger must be so cool.”

Peter became flustered. “I mean, it’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe I can meet Tony one day. What do you say?” Peter gave him a look. “One day,” he said nonchalantly. “Do you think Y/N likes the Avengers?”

“Ned,” Peter said sternly. “I don’t want to talk about Y/N right now, okay? If you really need to know, something about her rubs me the wrong way and until I can figure out why, it’s for the best.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Oh yeah,” said Peter, sarcastically. “Like she’s going to tell me. What if she tells me a lie?”

“You have a point,” he said. “Well, do I stop talking to her?”

Peter sighed. “Do what you want, man. All I’m saying is we can’t trust her.”

“Is this Peter or Spider-Man talking?”

“I don’t know,” Peter confessed. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I think you’re thinking way too deeply into this,” Ned began. “You’ve barely spoken to her and you’ve done nothing to figure out why you hate her so much.”

“I don’t hate her,” Peter replied.

“Well, it sure looks like it. I can see that she gets a little hurt when you don’t invite her to things and MJ and I have to cover for you and say we didn’t know you didn’t invite her.”

“What can I do, Ned?” Peter asked. “Everything in me is telling me not to trust her because she’s got some weird thing going on with her.”

“And you would know if you spent more time with her,” Ned suggested. “Look, I’m not asking you to become her best friend, but she’s been a part of our friend group since last semester and you’re giving her the cold shoulder.”

“It’s probably for a good reason.”

“No, you’re just being a dumb teenager, Peter.”

“So you don’t believe me?”

Ned shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never doubted you and I’m not doubting you now, but you’re not giving Y/N the benefit of the doubt, and you’re making assumptions without even getting to know her. Even MJ likes her.”

“Okay, I guess you made a point. And yeah, if MJ liked her right off the bat then I guess that counts for something.” Ned smiled and held up his hand for a high-five.

“There you go! I’m sure Spider-Man will figure something out, but Peter Parker needs to be a good friend. She seems so defeated whenever you’re around because she knows you don’t like her.”

“I don’t not like her. I’m just…cautious.”

“You being cautious has never worked well for anyone,” Ned said, rolling his eyes. “But then again, neither has being reckless. Just stick in the gray area, okay? You can operate there.”

“Jesus, you even sound like Mr. Stark,” Peter said, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

“Wanna grab some sandwiches from Delmar’s? I’m kind of starving right now.”

“You read my mind.”

***

Taglist:

@kath94210 @sessi03 @olliekookie @edgyhargreeves @simonsbluee @meraki--me @sleep-i-ness @amourski @zaynjawy @captainlarsonn @katiemcrae @holyhellthatbook @madeismyname @bands-and-shietz @janndishstuff17 @janndishstuff17 @knightofreaders @rororo06 @unfortunateshelbyrt @princessizzy36 @psychicforest.

[huntertales]

Part Two: In For A Penny, In For A Pound. (I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here S09E01)

Episode Summary: The Winchesters are left in a frantic state after the reader collapses, setting off a chain reaction of events with deadly consequences. Out of desperation, Dean sends out a prayer and meets an angel named Ezekiel, both of them make a unorthodox benefiting both parties while the reader fights for her life. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Episode Warning: Heavy angst, mentions of childbirth, stillbirth aftermath, character death(s), hints of depression. Word Count: 6,732.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Dean wasn’t sure what his end goal was here. His focus had been hazy over the past two days, yesterday he was making funeral arrangements. And today he was sending a prayer to any angel who would help. If one was stupid enough to show their faces. Desperate times. All he cared about was getting you back on the mend. No matter what he had to do, he just wanted to reach a point where he could breathe a little easier. Maybe he was being selfish. It wasn’t that he was forgetting about his child. He couldn’t stop thinking about that poor thing. He planned out what life would be like would be like when they got here. He was honestly ready. Sometimes life makes decisions for you. And while it heartbreaking, sometimes that’s just how it was. He wasn’t sure how many times the universe was going to tell him that he wasn’t ever going to have it all. 

Sam had no clue what his brother had done. The man was still in the dark about the plan Dean had hatched up after he lost it on the doctor. He wasn’t sure how the younger man was going to react when he told him the news. Sam might have turned his back on him the year before, but the bad blood between them was long gone. The both of them just wanted to see you get better. And knowing his little brother, Sam was probably already thinking of ways to get you back on your feet. Some things never changed. The three of you would do just about anything for each other. Even if it meant trusting something you despised. 

Dean leaned against the window frame as he patiently waited for something to happen. His gaze kept jumping up from the floor each time someone passed by the open door to your room. Sam had left to go get some coffee after his brother suggested it. He hoped that an angel would come by while the man was gone. Maybe it would make explaining the plan he made up a little easier to see that they had a friend on their side. 

The older Winchester looked up from the spot on the ground he had been staring at for a few minutes when he noticed the door open. He pushed himself off the window ledge he had been leaning against at the sight of someone that wasn't Sam, it was a complete stranger. The sight of her made a sense of hope bloom in his chest. A woman stood in the doorway of your hospital room, someone, who at first glance, seemed like the person of person an angel would possess. She offered the man a kind smile when she noticed the expression on his face.

"Hi. I'm just gonna break the ice." Dean said, jumping straight to the question he had been eager to ask since he sent out that prayer. He had little time to waste. "Are you an angel?"

"Sometimes I wish I were." The woman responded with a quiet chuckle at his peculiar way of greeting her. "My name is Kim Schortz, and I'm a grief counselor here at the hospital."

"Right. Yeah. Uh...Sorry. I'm just tired." Dean felt a little foolish at what he said to a complete stranger. He brushed it off with an excuse about being exhausted. And it was true. He just wanted her to get the hint that he didn't need her. "Well, all due respect, but, uh, I'm not the kind of person who shares my feelings. And I'm not grieving—not yet at least, so—"

"I'm afraid, as hard as it may be, this might be a good time to talk...about the inevitable for your wife." Kim slowly eased the conversation topic most found hard in the situation when a loved one wasn't doing well as they expected. Denial was a tremendous part of grief. She watched as Dean's expression began to change, his body stiffened at the possibility things weren't going to work out for him. "What you are going through...the pain you had to endure. I'm sure there are no words to describe what you're feeling at the moment." 

"I don't need your sympathy." Dean nearly hissed at the woman. He tightened his jaw at the reaction she got out of him. He was doing everything in his power to keep his head on straight and focus on what mattered to him. 

"You lost your child. You must be hurting." Kim softly spoke to him as if he were a child, in need to be instructed on how to properly handle a situation like this. "It's okay to let your grief show. Whatever you're feeling, just know that it's natural." 

"Like I told you, I'm not the sharing type." Dean told her. His tone of voice was cold and harsh, giving her just a brief glimpse into what kind of mindstate he was in at the moment. “And besides, who the hell do you think you are coming in here and telling me how I should feel? Do you want me to cry? Let me tell you something. You have no idea what I'm going through.”

Kim's expression began to change at the attitude he was giving her from offering a safe space to talk to her out in the open. She had dealt with a fair share of parents who had lost a child, whether it be due to stillbirth or a sickness that caused the young child to pass on early. Almost every occasion the parent was broken up inside, the sadness was too unbearable to hide. It demanded to be felt. Either Dean was the master of it, or he was truly in denial about what was going on. He was acting as if he could fix this problem. Yes, miracles happen. She had seen a few people who thought they were in Death's grip get a second chance at life. They were able to walk out of here and enjoy this new opportunity they never thought possible. But that didn't apply to Dean's situation. Miracles were for the living.

Dean understood that his reaction to this situation wasn’t normal. He wanted to tell the woman that he had dealt with grief so many times before in his that to the point where it felt like a second nature. He knew this pain of losing his child, it was nothing he had ever faced before. It felt like a part of him was ripped out from him. That little aspiration he found himself growing when you told him you were pregnant was gone. The little hole in his heart where the pregnancy filled his loneliness, the doubt about things always looking bleak was just that again. Empty, full of pain he was never going to heal from. Every part of him wanted to sit down and admit defeat. But that wasn’t how Winchesters handle grief. 

Dean still had just enough sanity to fix this situation. In a sick, twisted way...he was holding out hope that things would end up working out like he planned. An angel would come to heal you. And maybe, by some miracle, they could bring back the child that could have been yours. All of this would have been a distant memory. Dean knew better than setting that as an achievable goal. That was a dream, at best. Sort of like yearning for a normal life. You could get it, until it implodes in your face. Dean was taking his chances on what he could get back, what he thought was the only thing that he could have. He just wanted you back. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just you’re in a fragile state right now.” Kim said. “When people have been in traumatic situations like this, their grief tends to make them do...drastic things. Things that you’ll regret. if that makes sense.” 

“If you’re worried that I’m gonna off myself, you can relax.” Dean said. A few seconds after the words came out of his mouth he felt a twinge of guilt at the brunt remark he made. “I’ve been down this road before.”

“Doesn’t matter how many times we lose someone, the pain never gets any easier.” Kim replied, presuming that might be the reason why he was acting like this. 

“I’m not grieving for someone who’s not dead.” Dean shot back at her. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice person and that you mean well, but ‘inevitable’—that’s a fightin’ word where I come from. There’s always a way.”

“And I am a prayerful woman who believes in miracles as much as the next, but I also know how to read an EEG.” Kim said. “And unless you're telling me you have a direct line to those angels that you were looking for—“

“Yeah, no, I, uh... Guess I don't.” Dean was beginning to realize that maybe his plan wasn’t as clever as he thought it was going to be. When one fails, always have another as a backup. “But I might have something better. I got the King of Hell in my trunk.”

Kim was left in a confused state from the words that fell out from the man’s mouth. She watched as he headed out of the room without much more of an explanation. A few seconds later Sam returned from the cafeteria to discover his brother was gone, in his place was a woman he had never met before. Sam continued to hold the two scolding hot cups of coffee and gave the woman a confused expression, wondering who the hell she was. 

“My name is Kim. I’m a grief counselor with the hospital. I was just here talking to your brother.” The woman reintroduced herself to the younger Winchester, stating the reason why she was here. Sam noticed how well it went from the sigh that escaped her lips a few seconds later. “He’s a strange man. You should go find him. The things he said...they don’t make any sense.”

“He’s been under a lot of stress the past few days. We both have.” Sam said. He came up with the first excuse that slipped out of his mouth, surprising himself with how he managed to come up with something when he was so tired. “What...exactly did he say to you?”

“Something about angels. And the king of hell? Whatever that means.” She replied. She shook her head, not bothering to try and make sense of the gibberish. “Is that some kind of metaphor?”

Sam’s face dropped at the mention of those two things. Without bothering to give an explanation, he set down the cups of coffee on top of nightstand next to the bed and dashed out of the room, leaving the consular all alone, wondering to herself what must be going through the family’s mind right now to be acting so strange. She turned her head to catch a glimpse of you. A frown found its way on her lips at the sight of you. It was heartbreaking to see someone like this. She wondered to herself if you somehow, by a miracle of modern medicine and Go himself, you pulled through. What kind of pain would be waiting for you. 

Dean made it down to the parking garage quick as he possibly could. If angels didn’t want to answer his prayers, so be it. He had the next best thing in his trunk. Crowley was a weeping mess. Dean was sure once he told the demon what went down getting him to make a deal with one of his goons would have been easy. If he had to sell his own soul so you could live, this wouldn’t be the first time he went down that route before. He was willing to take those chances. At this point Dean felt like had proven that he was willing to do just about anything to get you back. 

Dean approached the trunk of the Impala as he cautiously looked around the place, wanting to make absolutely sure he was alone from what he was about to do. When it was just himself out in the open, Dean pounded his fist against the trunk a few times, rattling the demon from his solitary.  

“Crowley, listen up, you son of a bitch. One for yes, two for no. You alive?” Dean asked the demon. He waited for a second to see if he could get a response. When there was nothing but silence, Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Come on, don't be a pouter.” Finally, Dean felt the metal shake underneath his touch when Crowley responded a moment later. “There you go.”

Right as Dean was about to open the trunk and have a little chat with the demon, someone decided they wanted to go first. Dean felt his body stiffen when he felt something sharp press against the hollow of his throat, and a looming presence behind.  He got a clue who it might be when the stranger spoke. “You prayed?”

“Yeah, for help.” Dean replied to the angel. 

“Yes. You'll be helping me.” The angel said. It seemed the hunter’s words were lost in translation at what he meant by owing one of them a favor. The angel wanted help first, and he had no intentions of returning the gesture. Dean felt his face roughly hit the trunk when he was slammed down, before he could do anything stupid, the angel pinned him down with a tight grip on the back of his neck. “If you lie to me, Dean Winchester, I will rip your throat out. Where is Castiel?”

“Who's asking?” Dean wondered. 

“Try every angel who was ejected from their home.” The angel said. 

“Oh. Oh, well, in that case,” Dean thought his sarcastic comebacks were appropriate for the situation he was currently in. “I have no clue.”

Dean’s humor didn’t go over well with the angel. He found himself being roughly lifted and thrown against the hood of the car a few times to show him that there was no room for jokes. The angel was ready to smite the hunter once and for all for the trouble he caused. As he drew up the blade into the air, he was stopped by another stranger, 

“Easy there, brother.” Another angel came to the man’s rescue before he could bleed out onto the parking lot ground like the other one wanted. His fellow brother turned around to face a sibling. “This young man has prayed for our assistance. Are we creatures of wrath or compassion? I would argue the latter.”

Giving his fellow brother a sign that his words meant something, the angel lifted his hand up from Dean’s neck and raised it in the air. For a moment it seemed that things might go smoothly this time. But it never did. The angel didn’t want to be kind. He wanted revenge for being thrown out of his home. He punched his brother in the face hard enough to inflict pain, ready to do what needed to be done to get what he wanted. And that was the other angel who was the cause behind all of the madness. 

“Come now.” The other angel brushed off the attack as he stood back up. “Is that any way to treat a brother injured in the fall?”

The angel didn’t care about formalities anymore. A fight broke out between brothers when he tried to stab the one who wanted to come in peace. Dean noticed the angel blade fell to the ground while the two of them went at one another. However one angel proved to be stronger than the other when he roughly flung his brother into a minivan parked a few feet away, the impact breaking the glass. Before he could smite his brother, someone was quicker, grabbing the blade from the ground and stabbing the angel in the back, killing him in a blinding light before throwing his lifeless body to the ground. Another Winchester stood with the bloody weapon by his side, coming to his own brother’s rescue after hearing the entire situation go down. 

“Who are you?” He questioned him. 

“Never mind me. You’re Dean Winchester.” The angel said, still leaning against the minivan as he addressed the older man. “I heard your prayer, and I am here to help.” 

The brothers watched as the angel proved how much use he was to them. He slowly sank to the ground and passed out from the injuries he sustained from the fight. Dean was rather amused at what just went down, meanwhile Sam gave his brother a cautious look from the things he heard. The man was planning something behind his back. And knowing Dean, it wasn’t something good. 

+ + +

“So were you just gonna stand there the entire time and watch me get my ass kicked?”

“I don't know, Dean. Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

Sam dropped the unconscious angel to the ground after finding an empty spot in the garage that was abandoned by any strangers. It was a perfect space for what they were about to do. Dean barely said much about the things his little brother overheard, too focused on the lack of back up he was given. Sam roughly snatched the holy oil out from Dean's grip and circled around the angel to make a trap. As he got halfway around, he tossed his older brother an impatient glance, waiting for a response for what the man had done behind his back. 

Sam had every right to know what his brother was planning. And yet there was a part of him that was feeling like Dean was blocking him out again. Making him reflect back on how their dynamic was after being reunited after Dean came back from purgatory. The distrust his brother had the anger for what he didn't do. He wondered if it happened again. He failed his brother when he trusted him the most with something far more important than his own life. 

"Look, I take the full blame for what happened back at the church. I do." Sam decided it was time to clean with the guilt he had been harboring since they got to the hospital. He figured that's what his brother was doing down here. Putting himself in harm's way to save a life. were always selfish dicks, and the only way a demon could revive someone back from the dead was to sell their soul. "Whatever you were trying to do...what deal you were gonna make, I'll do it. All of this is my fault."

"What? I don't blame you. I would never blame you for something like this, man. We didn't know this was gonna happen. None of us did." Dean gave his little brother the honest truth. Never in a million would he have a feeling like that. "If anything, this is my problem. I gotta make things right." 

Sam felt his body stiffen as he finished up the circle of holy oil. He hated what he was about to ask, but if he didn't, he feared his brother was about to do something stupid. "What were you planning on doing?"

"I prayed to Cas, hoping he would get his feathery ass down here. And when they didn't work, I sent out an open prayer for any angel dick who would help us. When that didn't work, I was gonna come down here and have Crowley summon one of his goons. Get one of them to spruce Y/N back up." Dean explained his plan was a little too much ease in his voice, like he was telling his brother about how to fix a simple solution. Sam stared at his brother for a few seconds, the look on his face wasn't showing Dean that was agreeing to this plan. "Sammy, you know how these things go. You can't tell me you haven't thought about fixing this."

“’Fixing this’? Dean, do you hear yourself? Y/N’s lying in a hospital bed on the edge of death. You—You…” Sam couldn’t get himself to say the words that made him feel uneasy. He inhaled a deep breath before continuing to speak. “You’re going through a lot right now. Maybe we need to process things. Figure out the right thing to do.” 

“The right thing to do is getting Y/N better. She would do the same for us. Hell, she has.” Dean didn’t want to hear the speech about letting you go. He couldn’t stomach the idea. He couldn’t think of a life without you. “And as for everything else...It would’ve never worked. It never does. You know that better than anyone.” 

“Dean, this wasn’t some kid you looked after for a year. They weren’t some monster you made after you accidentally a bad one night stand. This was our own family. Your flesh and blood. And it’s gone—just like that.” Sam found himself unable to comprehend with how he was handling at everything that went down over the past few days. His brother never liked to show his emotions, but his was too calm for even Sam’s liking. “How can you not care?”

"You don't think I care? Is that what you think? You have no clue what the hell I've been through the past couple of days. You didn’t think it killed me when I had to make the funeral arrangements? Or how painful it was to not hear the baby cry when they delivered them?” Dean threw question after question at his brother, each one growing more painful as his voice grew harder. "I thought that everything might be different for us. I really did. But guess what? It’s not. It never will be.”

Sam felt a pang of regret at the words that came out of his brother's mouth, wishing he never said anything. It was a glimpse into what Dean's mindframe was like after everything that was happening. "’m not cut out to be a father. We’re never gonna get a normal life. This is the life we’ve got and I’m sticking to it. I don’t have anything else grounding me except for you and Y/N. I can’t live without her. And you know you can’t live without her." Dean continued on, not giving his brother a chance to get a word in. “And you really think we could raise a kid? Do you know how screwed up we turned out to be? I can’t do that. I don’t want to be like Dad.” 

”You’re not.” Sam said, shaking his head. “You’re nothing like him. You would’ve done a great job. You practically raised me on your own. You looked after Ben and he was okay—” 

“That kid nearly died because of me. And you had to shoot Emma. Sam, I’ve looked at his from every single angle. It never works out.” Dean argued with his brother. “This is just how it’s gotta be.” 

“Do you really want to do that to her?” Sam couldn’t help himself but ask his brother. In that moment he realized the reason why that maybe letting you go wouldn't be so bad. Much as it would hurt, letting you live would be harder. “You’ve been looking at this from your point of view. We always do these kind of things for our benefit. And mostly it’s been okay…but this time it’s different. How do you think she’s gonna feel when she finds out what happened? Do you really think she’s gonna be happy for what we did?”

Dean slowly moved his gaze away from his brother from his question. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter to set the holy oil on fire. Sam hated how his brother got like this. He always tried to ignore the conversation when it veered into a direction that made him look at the consequences of his actions. Or his feelings that he pretended to have. Sam wanted to be the voice of reason here, because that’s what he did. He always had to do the right thing. But there were times that he was selfish in his own ways. More than once he turned his back on his family. Deep down, Sam knew his brother was right about not being able to live without you. 

He was so used to the way things were. This family was messed up beyond reason. All of you were too dependent on one another. Your lives were constantly at risk of ending for good. And while each of you put on a strong face that you were ready for death, there was always a part of you that wasn’t. Because everything you cared about life was on here. You still weren’t ready to give up the big fight and let the people you loved feel the grief. All of you lost too many people in your life. You would do anything to keep what you had. And the boys were. They were keeping what they knew, what they thought they could keep. 

Sam let the argument between the both of them simmer down when they noticed the angel slowly began to come back around. All though he was weak, he was rendered human as the body he inhabited when he noticed the flaming circle around him, making him trapped. He quickly turned his head to the direction of the voice when the older Winchester spoke.

“You want to help?” Dean asked the angel. “Start with a name.” 

“Ezekiel.” The angel responded.

“All right, Ezekiel. How do I know you’re not hunting me or Castiel like the other angels?” The older Winchester asked yet another question. 

“Oh, I’m sure there are many more angels who are.” Ezekiel said. “Many more are on their way here, most likely.” 

“How do you know that?” Sam wondered, taking everything the angel was saying with a grain of salt. 

“You put out an open prayer like that…”

“I must be desperate.” Dean finished what the angel was leading to. From what happened a few days ago he should’ve known that he wasn’t going to be in good standing with them. All of you managed to piss off heaven and hell. Things were looking bleak. The usual way of solving things didn't seem like it was possible, however Ezekial wasn't like his brothers and sisters. If given the chance, he wanted to prove himself to them. 

"Believe it or not, some of us still do believe in our mission." Ezekial said. He pushed himself up to his feet as he continued on. "And that means we believe in Castiel...and you."

“You said you were hurt doing the fall.” Dean said. 

“I was. Entangling with my brother back there did me no favors.” Ezekial admitted. "But what strength I have left, I offer to you.” 

The brothers slowly looked over at one another from the choice they had to make. Dean wasn't exactly feeling confident at the angel's words, Sam wanted to say no to this entire plan. But he knew the older man was right in a twisted kind of way. Normal lives, no matter the aspect, never worked out in the end. This was how the way things went, how they always did. 

+ + +

You weren’t exactly sure if there was any words that could describe the feelings you had at the moment. You and Bobby walked through the forest as you went on the path, not exactly sure where it was leading you. Part of you wanted to fight and keep going on with life. Because you knew what was waiting for you on the surface. The boys, a world out there with so many things you loved. And yet...another part of you felt there was nothing else to live for. Six months you spent mentally preparing yourself for a change in your life that you never thought was going to come. You got yourself excited over the thought of being given a chance to create another life with the person you love. To be able to shun away the demons that ruined your life. But all of it went crashing down. 

You felt defeated. All of your hard work had turned out to be a waste. You trusted the wrong people. Not only did you put your own life on the line, but the little life you had been carrying for those six months. They had been part of the journey the entire time. What you did to your body they had to endure as well. While you wanted to tell yourself that it would all work out in the end, clearly it didn’t. You would never be able to shake off the guilt of what you had done. You killed your own baby. The innocent creature who depended on you to protect them. And you failed. How could you live knowing they would never be given a proper chance to grow up? Live a life, no matter the danger? You chose their fate for them. 

“I want to fight. I do.” You admitted to Bobby. “But it just feel like…” 

“Like you got nothing left to swing at? Like you’re punching shadows?” Bobby took a wild guess at where you were going with. You shrugged your shoulders, knowing that was only the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more. “You gotta let go of the fightin’ and scratchin’ and lookin’ for loopholes, ‘cause that ain’t happen’.” 

��So, what?” You asked him. “I just die?” 

“‘Just die’? All the good you’ve done, all the people you’ve saved, all the sacrifices you’ve made? You saved the world, kid. Much as you don’t think so, you did. How many people can say that? How many people can say that they said 'screw you' to the devil and left this God-forsaken hunk of dirt that much of a better place? What you call dyin’ I call leaving a legacy. " Bobby raised some good points that made you reflect on your choice you had to make. While it was better to end on a good note, you still weren’t sure. You still had people up there who needed you. “The boys will be fine. And you won’t be up alone up there.”

"Soulmates share a heaven. I know." You said, remembering back to the case you had worked on what felt like a decade ago. A smile tugged at the lips when you remembered learning about how you and Dean were soulmates. And how one day the both of you might be together forever in peaceful harmony. "But I can't just abandon them, Bobby."

“I wasn’t talking about Dean.” Bobby said. You furrowed your brow slightly from where this conversation was going. “Come on. We’re almost there. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

+ + +

 Dean watched as Ezekiel stood over your bed, assessing the damage that was done to your body. There was only so much the human eye could see. He placed a hand on your upper chest to take a deeper look inside. Sam watched as the angel took a moment to figure out what needed to be done in order to fix you. Cas had warned you that the damage to your body while you were still doing the trials was irreversible from his own abilities. He wasn’t sure what Ezekiel could do to help. But he gave the angel the benefit of the doubt, he wanted to help. So he was going to let him. 

“You still able to cure things after the fall?” Sam asked the angel.

“Yes, I should be, but…” Ezekial continued to observe what little strength you had left. It was far worse than he imagined it to be. "She's so weak."

Dean forced himself to believe those words were something positive. You were still holding on in there, clawing your way at life like you always did. His attention drifted away from you when he heard his phone going off. Pulling it out from his pocket, he noticed it was from a number he didn't recognize before answering. "Who is this?"

“Dean.” The voice on the other end was one he was familiar with, someone he had been trying to reach just an hour ago. 

Sam turned his head and gave his brother a confused look at who he was talking to. Dean mumbled the name of a familiar angel before slipping out of the room and out into the hall. "Cas, what the hell's going on?"

“Metatron tricked me. It wasn’t angel trials. It was a spell.” Cas came clean with the truth about what the man had participated in after the angel asked for his help. “I wanted you to know.” 

“Okay. That’s great, but we’ve got ourselves a problem.” Dean said. The angel could hear the change in the man’s voice, leading him to ask what was wrong. There was a small pause between the both of them as Dean wandered over to a quiet space in the hall that was near a window. “Y/N. She’s, um—they say she’s dying.” 

 “What happened?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, at first she was okay, and then she wasn’t.” Dean said, giving the angel an update on the things that he missed out on. “Have you heard my prayers? Sam and I have been praying to you for two days straight.” 

“Dean, Metatron—he—he too my grace.” Cas delivered some unfortunate news that didn’t help the stressful situation Dean was already in. The older Wincester was taken aback from hearing, however the angel reassured him. “Don’t worry about me. What are you doing for Y/N?” 

“Uh, everything I can.”Dean said. “There’s actually another angel in there working on her right now.” 

“What other angel?” Cas asked. 

“Uh, his name is Ezekiel.” Dean answered. “He’s cool. I mean, I think he is. Sam’s in the room with him, making sure he won’t do anything stupid.” 

“Ezekial. Yes. He’s a good soldier.” Cas said. It gave Dean some hope that the angel was worth trusting. “He should be able to help until I get there.” 

“Wait, no, no, no. No, hey, that’s not an option.” Dean shot down the idea. The angel knew the trip might take a few days, but that wasn’t what the man was worried about. “Hey, Cas, listen to me. There are angels out there, okay? And they’re looking for you, and they’re pissed.”

“Not all of them, Dean.” Cas said. “Some of them are looking for direction. Some are just lost.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. 

“I met one.” Cas said. “I think I can help her, Dean.” 

“No, Cas. I know you want to help, okay? I do, but helping angels is what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I’m begging you—for once, look out for yourself.” Dean gave the angel some advice he desperately hoped he would take. “Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody.” 

“And do what?” The angel questioned him. “Just abandon them all?”

“Damn it, Cas. You hearing yourself? There’s a war on, and it’s on you. There’s thousands of them out th—you said you lost your grace, right? That means you’re human.” Dean didn’t have time to talk to the angel about what he needed to do. “That means you bleed and you eat and you sleep and all the things you never had to worry about before.” 

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas tried to reassure him. 

However it seemed the pissed off angels Dean he was warning about might have been closer than he realized. He felt the ground beneath his feet began to shake, in mere seconds, the entire building began to tremble. “I think we got more company.” Dean told the angel on the other line. “Look, get your ass to the bunker alone. You hear me?”

There was no wiggle room for the angel to negotiate about bringing friends along. Dean ended the call and got back to your room to figure out what was going on. He noticed Ezekial was peering out the window to see if he might be able to catch a glimpse of a sibling. 

“One of yours?” Dean asked the angel. 

“Trying to secure a vessel.” He said. “We need to move.” 

“No, no.” Sam shot down the angel’s idea. “If we move her, she dies.” 

“If we stay, we could all die.” Ezekial warned. 

Dean knew  there was one way to keep out unwanted company. He went over to the white board and grabbed a marker. He went up to a blank wall and began to draw out a symbol that would ward out any angel from coming in. When Sam figured out what his brother was doing, he grabbed the other marker, both of them worked together to cover every space on the wall with every sigil they knew that worked against angels. 

“Long as these are up, no angels are coming in.” Dean said, throwing the marker across the room with little care where it ended up. “No one’s coming out. You gonna be okay with these?”

“I’ll manage.” Ezekial reassured the brothers. He fell silent for a moment as he glanced around the room, picking up a shift in the atmosphere they couldn’t feel. “They’re here.” 

“Okay. Do not open this door for anybody but me and Sam.” Dean instructed to the angel. He made his way over to the door and placed his hand on the knob, but before he left, he gave Ezekial one more command. “Save her, you hear me?”

The boys made their way outside into the hall where chaos among the hospital staff and patients began to unravel. There was little time before things got even worse, they needed to get everybody out before it did. Windows began exploding when they started running down the hall as the high pitched noise began to grow painfully louder. Dean managed to cover his face from the flying debris as he watched people scurrying around for an exit. Knowing there was one way for sure to evaluate the building, Dean raced over to a fire alarm and pulled the trigger, letting a warning bell drown out the other noise. 

“Everybody out!” Dean shouted out at the bystanders. “Now!” 

Nobody questioned his authority as he watched people tried to get out before things got worse. Sam made his way over to the small crowd to make sure they escaped safely while Dean lingered behind for a moment, scanning the rest of the hallway to see if there was any lingering bystanders. However he found himself shield his body from more glass when another window broke behind him, warning him that trouble was getting closer. 

When he recovered and brushed off the rest of the glass, Dean began to walk around the halls, wanting to make sure he got everyone out as Sam ushered a group of people to a fire exit. Dean headed over to the nurses’ station to see Kim from earlier was lying on the ground face down covered in glass. He made his way over to her and crouched down to help the woman up to her feet. 

“Hey. You got to get out of here. Come on. Come on.” He told the woman. Kim dusted off the glass and safely got back up. The both of them managed to take a few steps before Dean found himself facing trouble. An angel holding a blade was blocking his way from going anywhere. Dean looked over his shoulder and to the woman. “Stay behind him.” 

If the angel wanted to fight, Dean was already for one. He pulled out his own blade from inside his jacket and got ready to make the first move, however he seemed to fail to realize that the fight was two against one. Kim managed to knock the blade out from Dean’s grip and twist the man around so he was facing her. Before he could do anything, she grabbed him by his throat, lifting the man up so his feet were dangling in the air. 

“Or not.” She replied to his command. “Oh, Dean Winchester. You  and your brother are in a world of trouble.”

[Next Part]

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[potaetaezz]

|| Sweet Like Coffee || 8

prev << >> next

pairing: Nct Dream x Reader  [female]

genre/au: fluff | teeny bit of angst (to come) | enemies to lovers | Everyone is just a clueless bunch of weirdos, you get the drill… or so you thought.

warnings: slight swearing, immature content, tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: its’s my first fanfic so no judgment lol | Jaemin is getting friskyyy | Longer Chp | here we go~

_____________________________________

Your jaw dropped as the hoodie landed on the table in front of you. All you could smell was ‘him’. The regret gnawing at the lining of your stomach. Everyone was watching, everyone heard. You didn’t have to look up to know shock was plastered on Renjun’s face. But you felt the need to look up at Jeno. For you could never anticipate his reaction.

A laugh.

“No wonder you didn’t come to the cake shop with me.” 

He laughed. 

Surprisingly, It didn’t hurt - the fact that Jeno laughed too easily. It didn’t hurt as much. But maybe the anger rising up your throat distracted you. 

Jaemin leaned in casually to meet your ear. “I think this beats your little note.” His smirk teased you.

So that’s what this was. Revenge for the note, that insignificant note. You were known to act on impulse, and if you listened to your heart you’d be shouting at him already, trying anything to wipe that smirk off his face. However, this time you thought to listen to your head. To plan it out for once. To play the game.

He backed away but wasn’t finished. “It looked better on you anyways, especially in bed.” He eyed the hoodie and made sure everyone could hear him, especially you.

You looked up to meet Jaemin’s alluring gaze. He was confident. He thought you’d melt. Little did he know you were built of stone. Stubborn as a rock.

“Yeah I agree, you looked better without it, without a shirt as well for that matter.” You held his gaze. Forced a smile. Clenched your jaw. Swallowed the rage rising in your throat. Sarcasm hidden well in your unwavering voice.

The reaction on his face, however, made it all worth it. The smirk faded, satisfaction in his eyes vanished.

“Oh, yeah.” He chuckled anxiously. He masked his surprise. One would think he looked nervous, naive even, but you didn’t dare underestimate him.

You batted your eyelashes, attempting to act coy. Tilting your head ever so slightly, gazing up seductively into his eyes despite nearly gagging. “Anything else?” 

He rubbed his neck and then straightened himself, adjusted his disguise, cleared his throat. “Not yet.” his words followed by a wink. 

Your cheeks flushed too easily. Your spark of confidence disappearing immediately, as well as your forced smile. 

He walked back to an eager Haechan, leaving the room in silence. All eyes fell onto you. You stuffed the hoodie into your bag as fast as possible, hoping the scent would disappear with it.

It didn’t.

You looked over to Renjun, preparing to see a glare your way. Or something similar. 

Even he’s laughing. Your eyes met his as he crafted a heart in the air with his fingers and quirked his eyebrows.

You sighed. Loudly

‘I just want this day to be over.’

Everyone began to talk again, but anyone could’ve guessed it was about you.

“So Jaemin huh?” Jeno’s voice snapped you back into reality.

“Oh no, it’s just,,,uhm,, it’s not what it looks like.”

He nodded, a polite smile etched on his face.

‘He definitely thinks I slept with him.’ 

———

POV CHANGE- Jaemin

———

“Without a shirt as well for that matter.”

Jaemin walked casually back over to a confused Haechan. 

Heartbeat fast, shocked, though he’d never admit it. Jaemin didn’t like the way he was feeling. 

“What happened dude?”

Jaemin looked just as, if not more confused, “I don’t know, normally she’d like freak out or something or get all shy.”

Haechan bobbed his head in agreement, leaning up against the cool wall. “So should we like, just forget about the whole bet thing? Maybe she’s caught on?”

A spark ignited in Jaemin’s eyes, and a sly smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head. “Not yet, just wait.”

Although Jaemin could barely remember why the bet was created, he wasn’t ready to give up on it, not when it was just getting entertaining. Jaemin always thought y/n was different, interesting even. Turns out he wasn't the only one, hence the bet.

It started as a way to get y/n’s attention, to flush her pale cheeks once in a while. She was focused, clever, eyes like ice. What was the harm in getting her flustered? Jaemin was competitive, curious. One thing led to another and here he was, trying to win her over, trying to make her fall, trying to achieve her trust. He never thought about the consequences, however. He always just saw it as a bit of fun, a laugh even. Little did he know she could be so dangerous.

“That was kinda fun though….” Haechan broke Jaemin's trail of thought.

Jaemin didn’t want to admit it, but, it was. There was something about y/n’s gaze that made him want to hold it, something about her resistance that made him pay attention. He didn’t like it. Looking into her lucid, chaotic, moon eyes made him feel something that wasn’t welcomed. That warmed his blood. Softened his smile. He hated it. He was losing control. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

———

POV CHANGE - Y/n

———

*Lunch bell rings*

You left Jeno with an awkward “cya” and headed to the cafeteria, knowing you probably wouldn’t get that far because well, news spread too fast in that school. 

You spotted Lila almost running down the hallway, toward you. She skidded to a halt. “So,” she lifted one eyebrow, “spill.” Renjun caught up with her and nodded his head in agreement. 

“Come on y/n!” she pestered.

“Later okay? My house. I promise, but still, it’s just a mis—”

“Deal. Now let’s go I’m starving.” She never did like a spoiler, especially when it came to your gossip because you never had any gossip. 

You all sat around the table. The green-haired boy grabbing the seat next to Renjun.

“Hi, I’m Chenle.” He was cute, eyes bright. “I’m also from Chin—”

His eyes trailed upward, and yours followed.

“Can I borrow her for a second?” Jaemin spits out, looking at Lila. “Yeah, thanks.” She didn’t even get a chance to respond before his hand grabbed your wrist, encouraging demanding you to follow him.

He lead you out to the empty hallway. The darkness seemed to accompany you, kissing goosebumps on your arms. He let go of your wrist, and put his hand on the wall behind you, leaning into your gaze. You were trapped between the wall and his frame, attempting to avoid his eyes which bore unrelentlessly into yours. 

Your frustration overcame you. His scent overwhelmed you.

“You left. Your mom had to drop me to school. Your mom, Jaemin. All because what-” your voice began to rise, anger began to rise, “because you’re embarrassed to walk in with me? Is that it? You barely know me! Why-”

A string pulled the corners of his mouth up, to expose his teeth in a smile.

“What?” Your voice dipped in hesitation.

He shook his head, chuckling. “Did my presence mean that much to you?”

You rolled your eyes, expecting nothing more from him than arrogance.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up to his gaze, searching for sincerity, for truth, for regret. And there it was. Or else it was an illusion, but you didn’t care anymore.

He continued. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?” you taunted, tested.

“Just trust me.” He removed his hand from the wall. His intertwined eyelashes tempting you, that scar on his jaw teasing you.

He walked away, and back came the regret tugging at your seams, begging you to fall apart, fall into his gaze, fall into his arms.

It was hard to keep reminding yourself of his reputation. He wasn’t being sincere, he was luring you, tricking you. Still, you wanted to believe him, to trust him despite his act, despite everything. It just seemed right.

You walked into class, to see Jeno reading yet another book, but he didn’t look so perfect anymore, yet the glow still embraced him. Jaemin was toying with your emotions, you remembered. You had just accepted your feelings for Jeno, so why does a tinge of disappointment tug at your core. It wasn’t fair. 

‘Jaemin’s just getting in my head.’ You repeated.

Jeno flashed a smile, which calmed your oncoming headache.

“So, the cafe today?” 

“I’m sorry I promised time with Renjun and Lila.” Now you felt disappointment, but you couldn’t cancel on Lila or Renjun, especially after Sunday.

“Tomorrow?”

“Definitely.” You smiled back. 

Your phone beeped from your bag.

----

[ haechanniee: Don’t forget about me [2:08]

‘How the hell did he get my number?’

haechanniee: Tutoring ?? [2:09]

imaginey/n: In like 3 days? I’m free then?  [2:10]

haechanniee: I’ll be over tomorrow. [2:12]

imaginey/n: Over where? [2:13]

imaginey/n: Hello?? [2:15]

                              read @ 2:15 ]

‘What the fuck?’

———

 You spread out on the couch, watching yet another episode of ‘Jade the Virgin’ when you heard the door unlock. 

‘They must be here.’

But to your misfortune, in walks Ten.

“Y/n you won’t guess what happened last night. It was A-mazing!”

“You left me outside with no keys!!” You reminded him.

“Oh shit, what’d you do?”

You hesitated. Ten might be the most unforgetful brother ever, but still, he was protective of his little sister. 

‘Uhhh.. so what was so amazing?” you attempted to change the subject.

It worked.

He started his long extravagant story but didn’t get too far because thankfully Lila and Renjun strolled in.

Ten reassured you you’d hear the rest of his story later, then headed into his room. Lila swooped in to sit beside you on the couch. She leaned in, eyes eager for the ‘exciting’ news.

So you told them, the important parts. His mom, him leaving that morning, the hoodie ‘performance’. However you left out one small detail; the way his face nuzzled into your neck, his hot breath on your ear, his arm wrapped around your waist as if he’d never let go. You weren’t sure why you left it out, for it meant nothing. Yet the ‘something’ tormenting your insides convinced you to leave it out. 

Usually, you were good at deciphering your emotions, usually. But now, not so much, You didn’t know what you were meant to feel, meant to say, meant to do with a person like Jaemin. A person you couldn’t read. You didn’t know what was festering in the lowest part of your stomach. You didn’t know why your heart played up when his gaze wandered to you. Your mind was at war around him, your thoughts, feelings, judgements constantly bickering, constantly contrasting one another.

You just didn’t know what to do.

‘Want’ on the edge of your lips, yet each time you swallowed it. Because - you had to.

———

You saw Jaemin around the school the next day, but he kept his distance, catching your eye every once in a while. The distance was good, giving peace to your mind, but of course, it didn’t last very long.

Wednesday [6:18]

You just arrived home from meeting with Jeno at a new cake shop he found. You found it nice, a break almost. Your heart acted up a bit, but for the most part, you kept it under control. 

You flopped onto your bed like a fish. You did love your bed. You changed into pajamas and settled into its embrace, and read the new book Jeno gave you. Finally, you could relax. Rain began to fall outside, heavily, crashing against the window.  

A knock suddenly emerged from the front door. Ten was gone for the night, and you weren’t expecting anyone. You crept up to the door, grabbing a frying pan just in case. You gripped the door handle tightly, slowly pushing down. The knock sounded again. You peaked carefully through the crack in the door. There was a man, dressed in black, clothes soaked. 

“Y/n let me the fuck in!” He shouted.

“Haechan?” You opened the door immediately. “What the hell are you doing outside my house. No, how do you even know where I live??”

“I texted you. And Jaemin. Anything else? I’m freezing here!”

You ushered him in, taking his coat from him, which was dripping water onto the now soaking floor. He met your face with a childish grin, and then sat down on the couch. 

“So…tutoring?”

———

You begin with the tutoring, but knowing Haechan you also knew it wouldn’t last long.

-- 30 minutes past, until he gave up.

“Let’s do something else.” he begged, and how could anyone say no to his ‘puppy dog’ eyes.

“Like?”

“Questions. Let’s get to know each other.”

“That’s fair.” you agreed, without much hesitation.

He started out easy, asking you about your favourite movies, songs, interests, just general things.

“What’s happening with Jeno?” now that, you weren’t expecting.

“Uhh, nothing. We’re just friends.”

“You sure?”

 You laughed in response, for what could you say. Yes, you did like him, but now, you hadn’t the slightest clue. Everything changed so quickly, especially your feelings.

“My turn!” you break the silence, “What’re you really doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” you ask again, his vagueness intriguing you, but he shakes his head.

“My turn now.” There was almost tension lurking in the space between you. He moved closer, his eyes deep within yours. “What’re you doing with Jaemin?”

His name stung. You matched his confidence. “Ask him, I’m not doing anything.” lies. The knot twisted in your stomach.

“Why do you want to see me?”

“Because that’s what I want.” A smile flashed on his face. His eyes broke your gaze. He edged closer. 

His voice purred in your ear, echoed through your mind. “I’ll warn you now y/n, if you fall for Jaemin’s tricks, you’ll regret it.”

You jumped at the sound of your phone beeping. Away from the tension, away from his words.

nanajaeminn: tomorrow, 7pm. I’ll be outside.

You looked up, into Haechan’s eyes once again.

“Just a warning dear, that doesn’t mean you have to follow it.”

_____________________________________

a/n : Haechan is finally giving y/n a warning. But is he being sincere?  Was it staged? And also what is Jaemin planning?? Stay tuned to see a more vulnerable and fluffy Jaemin because I know you need some more fluffy Jaemin time. Something is coming so enjoy the fluffiness, and then drama will finally unfold.

Sorry for the delayed episode!! Thanks for your patience!

_____________________________________

See you next time -> Monday 14th xx

[slasherscream]

A/N: decided to go totally off the rails and do whatever the fuck i want this week. that's how we arrive at-

     jason dean / jd x black fem!reader ft. that's it .... that's the whole concept

                                                     ——————– 

You two meet when he moves to your city. It's nothing new to him. The change of scenery. Of people. He doesn't pay it any attention no matter where he is. The only thing he concerned himself with was finding the nearest 7/11 to the house he now lives in so he can get himself a slushie. 

You've got headphones on and you're dancing to yourself. Not paying any attention to your surroundings at all. The colors and patterns you're wearing are bright and cheerful but not overbearing on the eye. Just enough pop to make you stand out against the blandness of a gas station. The colors all look nice on your brown skin        like a pretty picture frame holding together an even prettier picture. 

He can hear the music coming through your headphones (hazy and mostly unclear except the hook: it's none of your business      ) and knows you're ever so slightly off beat in your dancing. Distracted. You're staring at the machine intensely like which flavor you're going to indulge in is the most important thing you'll ever decide. His lip twitches upwards, trying to become a smile. Shocking reaction considering you're currently blocking the machine.

He comes up at your side smoothly, close enough that if one of you moves you could bump into each other but not far enough to be truly invasive of your space. It's just enough to make you notice him. You yank your headphones haphazardly off your ears and jolt out of his way. "Oh sorry, man! Didn't mean to be a machine hog. Can't make up my mind for anything today." 

He laughs, moving to pick up a cup of his own, "Don't be. It's a serious choice to make."

"Damn right." You grin and finally make your choice. No choice. You go down the line of flavors and pull each lever. Coke, cherry and that blue that doesn't quite taste like any actual fruit occurring in nature. You step out of the way and grab yourself a straw. You can feel eyes on you. You turn and pause when you see him for the first time ... he's certainly      handsome would be underselling it. You blink the thought away and raise an eyebrow as if to ask, "what?"

He gestures towards the slushie in your hand and the look on his face makes you laugh because you've seen it before. "Oh you're a purist, eh?" you take a sip as you start to walk past him, "life's too short to not get wild sometimes."

"You make an excellent point." He doesn't mix all three like you did but he does mix cherry and coke. You give him a smile on your way out after you pay. He watches you as you go. 

You see each other again at school. There are three other schools in the area. It's a big city. But somehow you go to the same one. Your eyes find each other in the cafeteria. He's sitting at a table totally alone. You can see your friends waving for you but you just wave back and mouth that you'll catch them later. You go to join him in his corner of solitude.

"Well if it isn't little miss. flavor mixer." he smirks even though for once he's happy to see a familiar face. He wonders why that is even as he leans forward on his elbows. 

"Purist." You grin back, "Not that I'm the most observant girl in the world but I don't think I've seen you around here before." 

"You haven't. I'm new. My thing is kinda being the new kid." his smirk is brittle at the edges in ways it wasn't before, an almost instant change.

"Hmm       well guess I gotta eat here with you then. Nothing makes you a target faster than eating lunch alone at the back of the room like a weirdo."

"Thank you for your kindness." You show him another one by telling him not to eat the food he'd wound up getting (a death sentence) and instead sharing with him your fries. 

When you both get up at the end of lunch he's surprised when you loop your arm through his instead of just leaving, "So what's your next class, new kid? Gonna walk you there. Wouldn't want you getting lost." 

He stares down at you but doesn't move away, always been one to roll with the punches, "Won't you be late to your own? Seem like the type of girl who hates disappointing a teacher." 

It's the truth. But you're also not the type of girl to leave anyone alone. You hate the feeling personally and so you don't wish it on him. All the dark colors he's wearing and devil may cry attitude makes you think he's already used to being lonely. But what are moves for if not starting a new chapter in life? "Maybe you need to get to know me before you decide you know what kind of girl I am."

"Hm. Maybe." and so you walk him to his classroom. Then you pick him up from it later and are greatly amused at the surprise you see on his face when he finds you waiting for him. You two skip gym together and instead talk at the back of the school. The more you talk the more you decide Jason Dean needs a fucking friend. You decide you're gonna be that friend. 

You learn about him and he learns about you. Much like him you come from a two person family of you and your Mom. But unlike him and his Father you and your Mom love each other to death. You bring him home to study one day (you are forcing him to do his homework for fucking once in his life). Your Mom gets back from work early and walks into the house to find you throwing popcorn at him from across the table because he's balancing his pencil instead of using it to do his damn work.

Your Mom knows instantly this is the boy you've been spending so much time with. Talking so much about. She's a lot like you in that she takes one look at him and decides "I guess this is mine now.". You wonder if he knows he's already been adopted into the clan when he smiles and gives her a polite little, "Mrs. L/N". He starts spending more time at your place than his own. 

You pass the days together becoming ever closer. Sharing secrets. Insecurities. Going to parties. Getting slushies. Late-night movies. Going to the mall and people-watching. Forcing him to dance with you to music that isn't written by people all mad at their dad's. Him somehow managing to get you on the back of his motorcycle and then somehow being able to sweet talk your Mother into not being mad at him when she catches him dropping you off that way. His rolls up his sleeves and sometimes even takes off his stupid trenchcoat to help you cook dinner. Your Mom teaching him how to cook and him somehow winding up better at seasoning food than you which the two of them never let you forget. He becomes a part of your life too big to ever lose. 

His Dad says they're leaving. He'd gotten so used to being with you and the little life you'd built together that he forgot about the one he'd had before you. The life on the road. Apathy. Loneliness. Quiet. Anger. Reality hits him like a train and you can already see him shutting down. Closing himself off. You grab him by his face and tell him, "don't you leave me yet, Jason Dean."

You never call him that. Always JD or Purist, a throwback to the first day you'd met when you hadn't known you would change each other's lives forever. 

He's going to turn eighteen in three months and the two of you talk. You talk frantically and plan dumb shit the way teens do whenever they're confronted by a problem they don't understand. Your Mom overhears the two of you and once she realizes what's going on she puts you both in the back of her car and drives straight to JD's house. 

Your Mom is a real wildcard and you've never loved her more than when she sits across from JD's bum-ass Father, legs crossed daintily and authoritatively as she says, "your son wants to stay here and settle. He deserves the chance to graduate from one highschool that he manages to attend for more than a few weeks straight. Leave him with me. I’ll take good care of him." 

Jaws dropped. You're just as shocked as JD but still teasingly push his mouth closed. JD's Father? Never been much of a parent anyway. The most he does is help put JD's things all in the back of your Mother's car that same afternoon. You know he only helps that much because your Mom is radiating bad bitch energy. You high five her once you're all in the car driving away. You don't think JD and his Father bothered to say a real goodbye to each other. He's sitting in the backseat looking nearly shell shocked. You reach back and shake him by his thigh in excitement. He grabs your hand and holds it. 

Y'all only get closer to the point that you're inseparable. The guest room of your house quickly becomes JD's room. Your Mother rolls her eyes when she sees how spartan he keeps it and demand he do something to make it his own. He jokingly asks, "Can I paint the walls black?" and she smacks him upside his head.

She comes back the next day from work with a dark grey paint and tells him, "you can paint your room this color". You know it means a lot to him and you two spend the weekend doing just that.

The night he turns eighteen you make him a small, personal cupcake and put it down in front of him at midnight. You also have a slushie for him which you know he'll enjoy more despite all the work you put into the damn cupcake. He's grinning from ear to ear, not a smirk, a grin, "this feels kinda sixteen candles-esque, sweetheart."

"Blow out your damn candle and make a wish, JD."

"Why would I need to make a wish when everything I want I already got?" A moment of surprising honesty. It's not a joke. You can hear it in his tone. He doesn't retract the statement either, or play it off as less serious than it is. His grin has softened into a smile that you've never seen on his face before. It makes you want to melt. The candle is also melting.

You pick up the cupcake and hold it up to him, your voice no louder than a whisper that feels strangely intimate, "make a wish anyway."

He leans in obediently and for a moment the candle's flame flickers over the shadows of his face in the prettiest way. Then he blows softly and the flame goes out. The only light in the room from the moon now. You fall asleep curled up on the bay window seat together. You wake up in his arms the next morning. When you go downstairs to help your Mother make him a birthday breakfast she's shooting you a knowing look that you try to ignore. 

JD talks about his plans now over breakfast and your mother smacks his hand gently when he mentions maybe finding a new place to live. “That’s not how family works, Jason. And you’re family. Don’t you go forgetting that just cause' you turned eight-teen. No boy of mine is gonna be running off to live alone when he’s not ready. You stay here with us until you get sick of us. Don’t go leaving just cause you think that's what you're supposed to do. We love you here.” 

He looks suspiciously teary eyed and can only manage to clear his throat and give her a stiff nod, “gotcha Mrs. L/N”. Your mother is just as good at speaking JD as you are now and knows what he wants to say is “thank you” and “i love you both too”. She gets up to kiss the side of his forehead and you get up and kiss his cheek. He holds the both of you close to him and it quickly becomes a group hug. 

There's a change in how you are around each other. More lingering touches. Longer looks. But nothing happens. Nothing until graduation when there are pictures being taken and you forced JD to decorate his cap to match yours. He walks and you scream. You walk and he screams for you louder. Your Mom screams for the both of you the loudest.

You go to a party to celebrate but wind up leaving early and just walking in the park together. It's surprisingly cold outside for a summer night. He slides his trenchcoat around your shoulders and puts a hand on your cheek fondly. You steel yourself against nerves and raise your own hand to keep his trapped right where it is. You tilt your face into his warm palm and kiss it softly. You don't look away from him the entire time. 

A moment of stillness between you two, "Thank god." JD groans before he swoops in and grabs you by the waist to kiss you breathless. 

You both come home late clumsy and trying to be quiet but mostly too busy holding each other to really bother. Your Mother, who was waiting up for you both, only rolls her eyes and says, "finally." 

                                                     ——————–

[rjmorrisonuniverse-blog]

Nolan and the One-Hook Day

1. NOLAN

 What a shit storm of a day.

Distilled angst, chain of events, cosmic joke funnel, harpoon of the gods.

I know as I sit near him that I will have to throw the best punch I have ever thrown; one with technique and violent finality. I'll have to lift up from the chair, slide it back as I tell him "I'm going for a piss", and deliver the perfect right hook that begins from my heel and gains muscle torque up the calf, thigh and buttocks. I'll pivot with it as I rise and all my years of practice should unconsciously find that sweet spot on his jawline. I have to throw for a kill.

One chance or else big trouble.

Even I know that you don't get into punch-ups with massive off-duty cops.

One knockout hook, and an expedient exit through the side door on the far end of that pool table. It has to be soon, before the after work crowd shows up and this shit-hole becomes witness city. Before the pork behemoth gets even nastier and I run out of time. You bet your ass the pig reference is intended; this guy has the face of a swine. Mammoth jarhead on a stump neck with beady red rimmed eyes and nose vascularity that bespeaks years of hard drink. His voice is gravel, whisky phlegm and flat hard, and his salt and pepper goatee has an ugly way of framing an unsmiling mouth.

Motherfucking pig, prick, douchebag.

 I guess we should backtrack some. My name is Nolan. You don't need the surname, so get over it right now. I work for a metal stamping plant, and we make mostly automobile fenders. The job pays well but the environment is a hell on earth; a gargantuan space lit by low sodium lamps that hang forty feet above the floor. Two-storey tall machines that thump and roar like monsters starved for metal and perhaps human flesh, and a long shift there with earplugs inserted and legs taking shock after shock wave is about as otherworldly a job as I've ever had.

Is it any wonder I amped up my mixed martial arts training and aimed at the UFC?

Lunch breaks at A.G. Simpson were hilarious, as the zombies filed into the cafeteria in various states of exhaustion, depression, hangover, debt, disillusion. Even there, with the long bank of windows that overlooked the main work area below, the fucking lighting was brutal. In your face harshness, bad food, a sickly mint green high gloss paint on the cinder block walls... I mean, no amount of overtime could justify my being there and ONLY there to make ends meet. I remember a painting crew that was hired to spray the ceilings and recoat the washrooms, and those guys were freaked OUT by the vibe. They took their breaks in the cafeteria too, cursing themselves for not bringing their own food to the job, bitching about the watery vending machine coffee, and more than a dozen times asking us "how the fuck do you stand working here?"

So, given my size and mindset coupled with a love for man-to-man conflict resolution, it was a no-brainer for me to embark on a little side action in the octagon. I started as a gangly kid with the amateur boxing and proved a quick study with natural power in each hand. Even with the headgear and twelve ounce gloves I was knocking people out cold, and sparring partners too. I always seemed to have that mean in me, but as lady luck, that rotten bitch, would have it... I was a "cutter". If I didn't knock his ass out in the first couple of rounds, sooner or later I'd be bleeding. Bottom lip, bridge of nose, and for a brief stint in the pro circuit, both eyelids. I was an undefeated slugger fighting out of a loser gym, punching for power and lantern jawed, but that goddamned skin of mine  pushed me toward MMA combat, and that was fine by me. I didn't like my fellow man as a rule, and most days, hitting him made more sense than conversation.

I started out lucky, through a cousin who was being trained in the Pat Miletich camp, and found myself under the tutelage of the great man himself. I could list details about the intensive training that mixed kickboxing and Jiu-jitsu, Pat's karate methods and a stripped down version of Thai boxing that seemed best suited to my power... I could talk about the first dozen fights in Iowa, all victories by knockout in the first round.

I was busting my hump at the metal stamping plant all day, training five nights a week, and taking fights for shit money anywhere they would put me. Eventually I was given an opportunity to match up against a name opponent, even though his career was on the downward spiral, and representatives from the UFC were ringside. That was one motherfucker of a highlight reel knockout, let me tell it. My six foot four two hundred fifty pound hammer was primed to drop and I don't mind saying that poor bastard was knocked out during the stare down. Stoked? Homicidal.

The first thing he attempted was a leg kick, and in missing, he presented me with a clean shot at his mandible. I saw his eyes go all wide and wild just as I uncorked a sweet left uppercut and felt that indescribable delicious shock of connection when it exploded on the sleep spot under his chin. He was out before his head bounced off the canvas, and even today the debate continues about what killed him; the punch or that heavy landing. My celebrations ended when I saw that he wasn't getting up, and by the time the stretcher arrived I knew it was serious. I won't lie to you. I won't say it chewed me up inside that my opponent died a week later. These are gladiators and they go into it fully aware of the dangers. Highly skilled, trained to the nth degree, all it takes between two combatants in that arena is a nanosecond of error and somebody's lights go out.

Permanent injury, career ending injury? Not common, but I wasn't a common hitter either. Maybe we can thank my father for that. Every opponent wore his face and I don't throw to win. I throw to injure.

I was told that a contract was being drawn up for me in the aftermath of that fight; that all the way up to Dana White's office, the name "Nolan" was being spoken as the next money magnet. Then that poor bitch died and the contract offer was postponed until the media hornets nest died, too. I was pissed, maybe even a little at myself, and for sure at the man whose physically abusive ways had forged the fires that shaped me.

Two weeks later, I busted up one of Miletich's top young prospects during a heated sparring exchange, and that was the end of my UFC dream. Back to the zombie show at A.G. Simpson I went, and no amount of prying from fellow workers would get me to talk about just how close I had come to fame and financial freedom. Fuck it, fuck them, and fuck dreams. That became my mantra, and I withdrew into a mean sonofabitch's shell. Nobody messed with me back then.

Well, not until I took on that part time gig as a bouncer at Bunny's strip club. That was where I met Sherry-Ann.

  2. SHERRY-ANN

  Here in the bottom of the barrel tavern, I motion to the waiter for two more pints and listen to the gravelly voice of the big prick sitting at the corner of the table. He's talking about his failed marriages, the failings of the judicial system, the failure of society to appreciate what he does for a living. Failure? I'll show the motherfucker failure. Then, as the waiter sets down two more pints, I hear off-duty pig's speech beginning to slur.

"You shoulda been a cop". He fixes his cold eyes on me, looking at my down-to-the-wood hairstyle and clean cut features. He's bitching about the career path and in his next beery breath he's pitching a sale.

"My woman wouldn't have anything to do with me if I was a cop", I tell his stump of a face while Sherry-Ann drops the needle down on some distant memory that plays a song of sex and rage. Pig-mug leers into his ale, and I glance down at the broad knuckles across my right hand, square and knobby and designed for pain delivery. I had been forming a fist as he bitched about his marriages, and now I force myself to flatten out the fingers on my thigh.

 You may have thought that Sherry-Ann was a stripper, based on my mention of the club where I watched the door and floor. Nothing against the girls inside who worked the laps for money, but I would never date a peeler. I fucked a couple of them when I first took the job because they were practically throwing it at me. These all-American clean cut features of mine would have been enough, but toss in some nasty scar tissue and my indifferent conduct, and it was shooting fish in a barrel time. I don't pretend to understand the mind of a woman, but there is a fundamental truth about their being attracted to rough men. They may not love us in a lasting way, but a lot of them want us between their legs.

My first weekend on the job, on the Saturday shift, this feature dancer "Savannah" kept taking her breaks in the entrance lobby, near the door and near me. Nothing wrong with my meat radar, and I knew where the harpoon was headed. This joint, "Bunny's", was a rough place in a nasty part of southside downtown. Blood spatter on the sidewalk out front was common, and in time a lot of it was extracted by yours truly in the doing of his job; I always thought it funny how these down and out motherfuckers could find money for beer and lap dances. How many of them had wives and hungry children at home?

Some of them came in looking for trouble, pissed off at the world, and I took pleasure when reducing their dietary needs to soup. The owner of the place didn't give a shit how we did our duty, as long as the money came in and the cops stayed away and the girls were kept happy. So, when Savannah finished her final three song set of the night, instead of taking private dance requests she asked me if I would join her for a drink. Rose, the owner, cleared it with "Night's almost over... long as you keep an eye on the room."

Savannah and I shared a small table near the entrance door, and she did most of the talking while I admired her rack and scanned the patrons. Her body language was nothing less than a carnal invitation, with those shapely legs spread and her hand coming up often to touch my bicep, forearm, knee. A vacant, giggling, augmented and needy blonde caricature.

Shift finished, I invited her back to my two-bedroom apartment for a few more drinks and some good hard fucking, but on the way out the back door I first saw Sherry-Ann and she laid a burn job on my mind. She was leaning forward to talk to a potential client through the driver side window, and I caught sight of long-honed legs flowing up into a tightly rounded naked ass calling to me beneath her hiked black skirt. Statuesque, easily six feet without the twat-for-sale boots, and when she heard the back door squeal open and slam shut she turned for a second to shoot me and my companion a hard appraising look. The street lamp threw a sleazy orb over her beautiful features, with that young Margot Kidder sneer, too much lipstick and tumbling waves of ludicrous wig-red tresses tickling the mid back.

Untamed; that was the immediate impression. Lanky and dangerous and maybe a little crazy, and the kind of bedroom ride that was sure to be a roller coaster. We experienced that intense time-stand-still-eye-lock and I felt the kinetic energy between us that stayed with me all through the next two hours of sex with Savannah. That final climax, doggie style with her face pushed into the back of my sofa and her hands braced against the wall... that was another woman's bird I was basting. A woman I was determined to meet at the next opportunity. I remember drama-Savannah's look of injury when I handed her cab fare at four in the morning and bluntly told her I needed to sleep alone. She tried to protest and I gave it to her straight - "We both got what we wanted tonight, and now it's time for you to piss off."

 "You really shoulda been a cop, I'm telling you."

I nod as if in agreement, look at the clock above the bar and realize that I'll have to do my thing soon. Sherry-Ann will be expecting me home from work, completely unaware that my day is an official shit-storm only beginning to hit the fan. The huge man sitting with me lifts the pint of ale to his mouth, still glaring my way over the rim, and I see his police-issue service revolver sitting snugly in its shoulder holster. The open front of his brown suede jacket, the bulging stomach, massive arms barely contained by sleeves, and a pungent body odor of sickening complexity.

This doomed fuck doesn't have a clue that I followed him here.

3. PARENTING

  A week after I first laid eyes on Sherry-Ann's lanky goods, I was on duty at Bunny's with a sense of excitement that I hadn't felt in a long time. The shift was uneventful, and when I went through the back door, there she was at the end of the block with another chick. I thought about walking over to her, but decided to roll up in my Grand National. It was a hot night and she was sweetly tucked into a pair of high-riding denim shorts and a tight red t-shirt with black boots at the mid-calf; straight platinum blonde wig. I saw her eyes move from her companion as I rode up slowly, window down.

What a fucking body. Built for cock of Nolan. I can't explain the power of the attraction, and I had never considered paying for sex even once in my life. She just had that sneer, defiance, youthful strut and a physique to match. I'll admit that I had a soft spot for the ladies of the night, because my mother had been one, and I hate on pimps and everything they represent. Sure, I had some Travis Bickle in me, and Sherry-Ann was my Jodie Foster.

"Looking for a date?" her upper lip curled at the corner, and then I could see her remembering me from the weekend before. She smiled as I stopped, and her girlfriend took a long look through the windshield before casually strolling around the corner out of sight. "Hey, I remember you, stud."

Long story short, we did a little negotiating and she got in the car. I drove around the block and parked in behind Bunny's near the fire escape and garbage bins. Very romantic. Turned out that Sherry-Ann was new to this stroll, and didn't fuck. She was oral only, and I had to wear a jimmy hat Her old man was a biker-type who also had a piece of the action in the very club where I worked; a few girls who took on after hours customers at his command. He'd taken a shine to his newest meat, and didn't want Sherry-Ann riding any cock but his. I was as stiff as a fucking girder when she started stroking me through the dress slacks, but when I tried to enjoy her tits she moved my hand away gently, bending to unzip me and set the crowbar free. As soon as she started rolling that goddamned rubber over the head I could feel myself losing the erection.

"This isn't how I want it" I told her flatly, and she froze, raised herself back up and looked me long in the eyes. I remember thinking that I knew her from somewhere, maybe another life, and for the first time in my thirty four years I felt that I wanted something intensely. Her. "I wouldn't mind grabbing a coffee somewhere for half an hour, for the same money, if that's cool."

We started that way, and for weeks I would take her to a seedy twenty four hour diner near her stroll, to learn about her life and tell her about mine. Both of us were survivors of violent childhoods, but her father was nothing compared to the evil piece of shit that was mine. Her dad was heavy into the booze, gambling, and spousal abuse. My father was the angriest most self-entitled rage-aholic in existence, and from my first childhood memories it was his fists that marked my growth.

That prick verbally abused my mother and took sadistic pleasure in kicking the shit out of his only child. As I grew into a large teenager, the beatings escalated in duration and ferocity. He never told me why he hated me, but I knew instinctively that my life had been an accident... a miserable wait around that cocksucker's reality. As Sherry-Ann and I shared these sad stories over coffee, we could feel a mutual caring develop between us, and I always had that sexual hunger for her.

In time, she trusted me enough to explain that she wanted to get away from "Roy", who was becoming increasingly demanding and violent. He'd brought in another girl from the bus terminal, and that was his new top bitch. Sherry-Ann had to start earning like the other girls, and when she told me that, I took care of the situation for her. I spent a couple of weeks in hiding, watching for this fucker, and quickly enough I was able to figure out his schedule. He'd roll around just after the sun went down, in a beat up blue panel van, and again after three in the morning to collect the pussy rent... I waited for the Thursday of the third week, told Sherry-Ann exactly what I planned to do, ignored her warnings and pleas, and when Roy showed up later that night for his money...

Nolan came out of the shadows across the street. Roy was in the driver's seat, window down, in conversation with one of the other girls and I casually walked around the back of the van to push his bitch out of the way with my right hand before looping a short left hook into the center of his face; it had brutal follow-through and Roy's head whiplashed before he hit the bench seat sideways. Two of the girls started running away, but Sherry-Ann stayed for the show. I yanked open the door and grabbed a generous handful of beard and long hair, pulled the semi-conscious Roy back to a sitting position. The blood was cascading out of what remained of his nose, down his shirt and vest, all over the money he had dropped into his lap. I gave him a good shake and his eyes rolled open, tried to focus, and before he could attempt anything I drove a hateful straight left into his open mouth, putting him OUT. I loved the sight of him sagging back to a lying position in a grotesque slow motion of jaw-hanging gore. "Sherry-Ann is with ME from now on" I shouted into the cab, and who knows if he heard it or not...

"Call an ambulance for this piece of shit, and let's go get your things." An hour and two pieces of luggage later, Sherry-Ann took refuge in my apartment. A roach-infested den of depression and about as dead end as it gets for a pretty young runaway of twenty three. We had sex for the first time that night; a two-way act of consumption that I won't ever forget. We felt like we knew each other far beyond those few weeks of talking, and her forthright way of telling me how to fuck her, how to do the things that she needed done, the way her sexy mouth formed a leering curve when she came so hard and violently around me. It would be a long time before she heard it, but when I called in sick the next morning, I was sure I could love her.

Roy? He hadn't seen what hit him. I heard that he lost most of his upper and lower plate, had to have his nose reconstructed, and a few weeks after that night he and his women vanished from Bunny's and the block. Sherry-Ann settled in with me, took a waitressing job, and we fell into a year-long calm spell... I had saved almost all of my earnings over the past eight years and we made plans to get a house together outside the city core. We had a friendship and the sex was ferocious, but there were hurdles to overcome. I helped Sherry-Ann quit the glass pipe, and she helped me open up.

 Which brings me back to this nameless drinking hole and the large man sharing a scarred wooden table with me. Brings me to a heartbeat of hate, and the day that marked the history of Nolan with a river of tainted blood.

 4. SHIT, MEET THE FAN

 A Friday that began like any other, with the five thirty alarm. Sherry-Ann's warmth against me under the sheets, and the new anticipation of weekend reward in my life. I gave up the bouncer gig at the strip club to spend weekends with my woman, and for the first time ever I had days to look forward to during the workweek. Long lazy mornings in bed together, watching television, having sex, lost in conversation... me, the short fuse with lots on his mind and little to say. Simple, beautiful hours.

That Friday I ate my breakfast alone then walked quietly into the bedroom to kiss Sherry-Ann on the forehead as she slept. Me, the guy who told himself he would never give a shit about anyone... she was asleep on her side, dark brown hair fanned out across the pillow. I ran it through my fingers to make myself believe again that this amazing change had come to my existence, and then left to make the half hour trip to the A.G. Simpson metal stamping plant. I first noticed the horizon of fire when I made the turn into the industrial park on Laird avenue; jet black smoke billowing upward to form the devil's cloud cover, licked from below by a massive wall of flame. I hit the gas and felt my guts sink into the comfortable abyss of my usual state of being, knowing what I was going to see at the end of the avenue, reaching for the radio as I saw the rows of cars lining each side and stopped by a phalanx of police cruisers, ambulances, and fire trucks. The all-news station was on the scene and I learned that a huge explosion had ripped through my place of employment, killing four workers and injuring dozens of others.

"Jesus H. Fuck!" I pulled over and parked on the strip of grass adjacent to the two lane blacktop, got out to watch the blaze. Co-workers either sat in their cars or stood around in groups, shaking their heads at the sight of the apocalypse before them. A couple of them acknowledged me with nods, but most of them ignored me. I told you before, people tended to avoid me and I like it that way. I asked a couple of the guys what they knew, and nobody had shit for info other than the explosion happened just before dawn. Fuck me, I kept thinking, there goes work for a while. Maybe for good if the place is gutted.

I went back to the car, sat and watched the show, and after a couple of hours it occurred to me that I should just go the fuck home to be with the only person I cared about before she went in to work her half day. All the way back toward the small house we were renting, my mind was in a fog that reminded me of the worst of times during my childhood. My sixteenth birthday, when the man who called himself my father arrived to take me out of school because my mother had overdosed on heroin. Waiting in the hospital as she fought her last battle, he found a way to blame me, and that night after her death the beating he dished out had me fearing for my own life. I fought him back for the first time, and even though I hurt that motherfucker, he got the best of me and I spent two days in my room bruised, battered, and determined to leave. Two weeks later, he went in to work the night shift and I escaped. Some day I'll tell you about those first few months... I did things to survive that no one should resort to. If not for my mother's sister, I wouldn't be here today to break deserving skulls.

A half block away from the house I could see a car in the parking pad. A rusty Pontiac Laurentian, dented along the passenger doors and crusted with dirt. What the fuck? I glanced at my watch and it came from the stomach up to my throat; a sick knowledge of a thought that I stopped from forming... without realizing it I was on the brake and slowing. Ten in the morning on a day I'm not supposed to be here until five thirty. She goes to work at twelve, comes home before five. I put the car in reverse and backed up to park against the curb about a dozen houses away from mine, killed the engine and sat in silence. I watched the car in the driveway, looked at the front of the bungalow that framed the inevitable act of betrayal that life had in store for guys like me. For the first time in nearly twenty years I didn't take immediate action. I couldn't, man. I was paralyzed with a cold sweating fear, choking on a feeling like being trapped in a plunging elevator. There was no rationalizing in the car that morning as I sat there watching and so certain that Sherry-Ann was in there destroying us with another man who was soon to pay a price beyond reason.

Almost two hours went by, in a blur, before I decided to leave the car. I strolled over to the house, slowly and not feeling anything I can describe. I was thinking about a movie that I'd seen called "Into The Night", where the main character played by Jeff Goldblum comes home early to find his wife screwing someone. As I walked between my place and the neighbour's, around the side to the back bedroom window, my mind went numb. I always knew that God had put me here in this body for a lifetime of getting fucked. Life is a better fuck than pussy. Life is a twenty four and seven joystick, motherfuckers.

Our bedroom windows bottomed at eye level. An air conditioner filled the lower section of the far pane, so I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered through the glass of the east frame... the blinds weren't dropped all the way down to the sill and I was able to make out the two shapes on our bed. The bottom of the bed faced the windows, giving me a clear enough look at his big legs and ass as he pumped his erection into her. I felt a scary chill of calm for a moment, watching his balls move back and forth as he rode that beautiful pussy and blocked her from my view through sheer bulk. The sight of her long naked legs, one bent upward and one straightened, and a small hand gripping the blankets... that started the tears and I turned away quickly to walk back to the car.

Those were the longest two hours of my life, longer even than the wait for news about my mother that afternoon in the hospital. I'm not a smoker, so I sat and chewed gum in silence, waiting and getting used to the idea that once again, the dream is over. Fuck life, fuck love, and fuck dreams. Welcome back to reality. You fell for a whore, asshole. She's been turning tricks on the side all this past year and you bought the Hallmark card version of what it should have been and isn't. Last Friday had been a good fucking day that lasted clear through until the following Monday, and THIS one is the end of the world as you know it. Job, woman? Fuck you. Gone.

 The bartender, myself and this half drunken off-duty pig, plus six others who sit at the bar on the far side of this shit-hole. Four hours ago I watched this man leave my house through the front door, as though it were his, and casually get into his old Pontiac. I gave him a decent head start and then followed him across town into the city core. He parked in front of a tired brownstone on the south side, got out and lumbered up the stoop past a sign that read "short term rentals available", and I parked further up the street and did some more waiting. Him first, her later. I couldn't believe it and yet it made perfect sense. I'd deal with him, then Sherry-Ann would get one chance to explain this to me. Just one. I turned to lean against the driver's door, stretched my legs out across the seats, flexed my fingers, and watched the front door of that brownstone. When I made the decision to stop waiting he emerged from the building wearing the same clothes, and I followed him to the fucking dive that now serves as the shit-storm epicentre.

I gave it fifteen minutes before I entered the nameless hole. It took my eyes a moment to adjust from bright afternoon to damaged liver gloom, and the smell of piss and old beer and sweat that hit me like a swinging back-fist. All eyes turned at my entrance, but he was hunched over a pint and facing away from the front door and was the only one not to see me come in. I went straight to the bartender and asked him in a low voice what "that guy over there" was drinking, ordered two pints, and walked the length of the room to his table.

I set the pints down in the middle of the tabletop and pull out a chair around the corner from his, and he looks first at me and then the beer. Back at me, eyes widening as I lower myself and bore lasers into his pupils. "Still a cop?" I slide one pint toward him and raise mine up for a good swallow. He doesn't answer right away, staring me in the face, sizing me up, lost in something... "YOU shoulda been a cop" he mutters. "I followed you here" I tell him right away, let it soak in for a moment. "From the place where I'm staying?" he runs a huge hand through his goatee and greying hair. "No, from my place... the factory where I work is burning today."

He nods slowly, looking down into his beer... "been looking for you, son."

"I've never been your son, mister. I have the scars to prove it."

"I heard you left the city to stay with your aunt for a long time... " his voice trails off in memory. "So you found out where I live, dropped by for a friendly visit, did you?" He smirks a little and I almost throw the bomb right then, but it isn't the right time... I'm throwing for a kill, remember. I play it like I don't mind that he found me, and of course he has no idea that I saw him fucking my woman... no idea that as I sit here getting psyched up to stop his motherfucking heart, my own has been smashed. "So here I am, sir. What can I do for you?" he smirks again.

And it goes like that for nearly an hour, as this beastly childhood force sits next to me and attempts to... what? Atone for something? Correct the damage that he inflicted on his only child? I sit here and listen to his talk about the difficulty of losing my mother, and the failed second and third marriages. I let him ramble through his anger, and I hear nothing but an older version of the gigantic negative force that took all of my potential and crushed it into a compact life-hating machine. I can't even come up with one iota of pity for this prick, and now it's Sherry-Ann I'm thinking of as I glance again at the wall clock and decide it's time. How she could betray me... us... like that, and with THIS of all monsters.

"Tell me something" I interrupt his self pitying rant about spineless judges. "How much did you pay?" He looks at me stupidly, one bushy eyebrow lifting. "For Sherry-Ann this morning" I raise my voice a notch. "What did that cost you?" His hand comes up with the pint as he says "I didn't pay" and I slide the chair back, start the hook from my hip as I rise and pivot to throw thirty five years of poison through my torso and shoulder and forearm and fist as a projectile unlike any I've ever unleashed. Instinctively aimed for his heavy jawline as he tries to react too late, jerking beer over the rim of his glass when I land it and envision my knuckles removing his lower face. The jolt of it through my arm is like an orgasm and he and the chair hit the floor as though a wrecking ball has swung into the tavern. I'm not even looking at the others in the room, and in one chain of events I squat to look at his hanging jaw and the teeth that he is pushing out of his mouth with a bleeding tongue.

The cocksucker is still conscious but the force of the hook has probably broken his neck. I've never seen a head swivel like that. I grab a handful of vest and start dragging him across the floor as the witnesses just begin to realize what has happened, maybe not even giving a damn in a place this rough. I drag the piece of shit across the floor and his face is hitting the legs of chairs, his arms are limp. The bartender yells "hey! take that shit out of here" and I feel a nasty smile crack my mouth. The door near the pool table has one of those metal bars on it that you push, so I lift up my prey with both hands and ram his face into it. Outside in the late afternoon sunshine I can see that his fucking head looks like a shotgun suicide, and his breath is heavy and blood thick. There's a big blue garbage dumpster around back, and I drag him face down by the vest collar, hearing his gun scrape along the asphalt, feeling the swelling along the top of my hand. 

I prop him up in a sitting position against the dumpster and step back to deliver a looping head kick to his temple. His skull whiplashes and he hits the parking lot on his right side. I feel myself nod in agreement, then finish him off with a short toe kick to the throat. From the moment I first hit him to the lifting and tossing of his body into the dumpster I have been outside of myself. I take one final look at his imploded features and spit on them, dropping the metal lid down on the fucking garbage.

Do you think the blades of the fan are now filled with shit? No. There's just one more detail to cap my Friday to end all Fridays. I drive back to my house, just ahead of rush hour traffic. My hand is swollen and cut where I clipped his teeth. My mind is a seething pit of rage and fatality. I don't care about a fucking thing at this point other than to have Sherry-Ann look at me with her gorgeous eyes and talk me out of this crescendo. Tell me it was a moment of weakness, of old habits dying hard... tell me what you have to but tell me everything will be okay.

I pull into the driveway, enter the house, and see that she is home early. Her purse and shoes and waitress outfit are all in the living room. The house is silent and I walk quickly down the middle hall toward the last room on the left where she is lying in bed with her eyes wide open and the belt from her bathrobe knotted up around her neck. My breath hitches in my chest. I turn on the ceiling light. The bedsheets are on the floor, the pillow case beneath her spattered in blood, the tip of her tongue is showing between bloody lips. I nod again in agreement with the universe. Nolan is getting cosmic-fucked now. How DARE I fall in love? Who am I to change what I am?

In an echo of my earlier gesture that morning, I bend over Sherry-Ann to kiss her forehead, then close her eyelids. No tears now. I pack one piece of luggage, turn off the bedroom light, and get into the car to head for the nearest automatic teller. I'll get a hotel room and tomorrow I clear out my savings. Nolan blows this town forever. I'm on a mission now, and before I'm finished people will know about me from coast to coast.

Every lowlife motherfucker in every shitty part of every city has it coming, and I'm the delivery boy.