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ironychan · 4 months

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Scary Monsters

@dysphoria-sweatshirt @30spiders @sweatersexual @angrylittlesliceofpizza @writer652

Part 1/? - Rocco’s Closet

Part 2/? - School for Monsters

Part 3/? - The Waternoose Family

Part 4/? - The Terrifying Humans

Part 5/? - Hiding Places

Part 6/? - Nobody’s Fault

Part 7/? - Edge of Disaster

Part 8/? - Caged Monsters

Part 9/? - The Journey Home

Part 10/? - Portorosso

Harry didn't want to get back in the pram, so he scurried along the cobbled street with the rest of the group as they made their way downhill to the Pescheria and harbour. Luca and Alberto were busy telling their families about the monster world, but they did their best to keep an eye on their unwanted companion. This was not easy. Harry was like a curious puppy on its first walk, dashing back and forth across the street to take a closer look at everything.

“Mamma mia!” the woman who ran the laundromat exclaimed, dropping a pile of sheets as Harry dashed past her to look in the window. She stared for a moment with one hand over her heart, then took in the presence of Luca and Alberto and made herself calm down. “I'm sorry, young... man,” she managed. “You startled me.”

“I'm a monster,” said Harry smugly. “I'm supposed to be scary.”

“You certainly are,” she agreed, gathering up her sheets again – these had been clean, and were now covered with dust and would need to be done again. “Lovely to have met you. I'm sure I'll see you again.” She hurried back inside and shut the door.

A minute or so later, a man driving a truck loaded with boxes of fruit stopped to watch them go by. Harry grinned and waved to him. The man waved back halfheartedly, and waited until they rounded a corner to start his truck again.

“It looks like the humans here are scared of me,” Harry said suspiciously. “You said they wouldn't be.”

“They're not screaming and running away,” Alberto pointed out. “They're just not used to you yet.” Humans in Portorosso had mostly accepted the idea that just because something looked frightening didn't mean it necessarily was, but that didn't mean they liked scary things, even ordinary sea monsters.

“I think they're a little scared of monsters,” Harry said. “If they weren't, we wouldn't even have any doors to this town.”

“It depends on the monster,” said Luca. He glanced back over his shoulder at Rocco, who was still scowling into his gelato.

They arrived at the piazza. As usual there was a gaggle of children here, kicking an old volleyball in order to get around the local legislation that forbid playing football in the streets. Harry watched for a minute, bouncing up and down in excitement, then ran up to them.

“Can I play?” he asked eagerly.

The boy who had the ball snatched it off the ground and backed towards his friends, who gasped in horror.

Luca quickly reassured them. “It's okay! This is Harry. He's with us.”

Harry smiled hopefully.

One of the taller kids, a girl, spoke up. “You can't,” she said. “You've got... too many legs. Rules say only two is allowed.”

“Oh,” said Harry, though he looked at them suspiciously.

“Come on, Alberto lives over here,” Luca said, gesturing towards the Pescheria.

One of the teenagers in the town, a boy called Amerigo, had been hired to mind the shop while Massimo and Giulia were waiting at the train station. He smiled as the group approached, then his eyes widened when he saw Harry among them. Like the others, though, he reasoned that if this strange creature were with Luca and Alberto, then it must be all right, and that was enough to keep him from panicking.

“You've got a new friend,” he observed.

“This is the Pescheria,” Alberto told Harry. “Massimo catches fish, and Giulia and I sell them here or deliver them to people's houses.”

Harry examined a basket of bream on ice. “Weird fish,” he said. “They all look the same. Where are the ones with two heads?”

“We don't have any two-headed fish,” Luca said.

Harry moved on down the length of the shop, while Amerigo watched cautiously from behind the counter. “Oh, these look more normal,” said Harry, pointing at another creature. “What's that?”

“Those are squid,” Alberto said. “We cut them into rings and fry them. It's called calamari. Much nicer than eating them raw and getting ink all over you!”

“What about that?” Harry pointed to a black-and-white photograph of a group of people posing with an immensely long silvery fish, at least four metres, in the piazza.

“That's a regaleco,” said Giulia. “Papà caught it by accident. See, there's me.” She pointed to herself in the photo, a very small child of four or five standing by Massimo's side.

Harry continued to scuttle around the shop, examining the merchandise and decor, while people from the piazza began to gather in the doorway to stare at this new and bizarre arrival. Nobody said anything, as they did not want to be rude, but there was a general feeling of unease in the air. Luca and Alberto could feel it keenly, but Harry seemed oblivious, and upon noticing the crowd, he went up to greet them.

“Hi, everybody!” he said. “Wow, I didn't know there were so many humans. Kids' rooms only have maybe one or two at a time. Hi,” he said to one kid. “How are you doing?”

The girl gave him a sideways look and did not reply.

Not at all discouraged, Harry looked up at Old Tomasso, who was staring back down at him. “Hi! Do you need a son?” he asked.

“Ah, I'm a little old to be raising children,” Old Tomasso replied. “You might ask my daughter, Viola, though she and Giacomo already have a couple kids of their own...”

“Is she here?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Well, I'm starving!”s aid Alberto loudly. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and steered him towards the interior door. “Time for you to try some human food! We'll treat you to the most delicious thing our world has to offer – trenette al pesto!”

They dragged Harry up the stairs to the living spaces above the shop, leaving Amerigo to deal with the curious onlookers. There, Massimo and Alberto got to work on dinner, while Daniela, who'd been learning some human cooking, declared that she would make dessert. Harry had looked exciting as they climbed the narrow stairs, but the kitchen itself was obviously a disappointment to him. He looked around the cramped little room dubiously as people got to work.

“Do you live here?” he asked. “Or are you the servants?”

“This is our house,” Giulia said, insulted. “We don't have servants.”

Harry frowned. “Well, who cleans up after you cook?” he asked. “Who scrubs the floor and cleans the windows?”

“We do,” she told him. “We do everything ourselves.”

“Where do you sleep?” he asked next.

“Upstairs – there's one room for me and Alberto and one for Papà, and the bathroom.”

Harry examined her face, trying to figure out if she were joking.

“Nobody has servants,” Giulia added. “That's from, I don't know, medieval times.”

“Farmhands might count as servants,” Lorenzo Paguro mused. “Like those two boys Atinnia Trota has working at her place since her husband died.”

“Are all humans this poor?” asked Harry. “Where are the normal people?”

“We're not poor!” Giulia huffed. “This is normal! If you want rich people, the richest ones in town are the Visconti family, and even they don't have servants. They've got some employees who work in their vineyards, but that's not the same. Signora Visconti does her own cooking.”

Harry sat down on the bench below the stairs, where he watched thoughtfully as everybody else pitched in to get food on the table. He appeared to be re-thinking this whole expedition, as if he didn't want a new family if that were necessarily going to come with work. Luca kind of hoped that was true. Harry's father wasn't very nice, but Harry belonged in his own world and they needed to get him back there as fast as they could.

There was no room for so many people to sit down around the tiny kitchen table, so they headed out to the yard to eat as the sun set and the first stars began to come out. Daniela and Luca set the table, and Massimo brought out the extra-large pot that could hold enough pasta for everybody. Seeing all this made Luca so happy to be home he nearly cried – it reminded him of the evening after the race last year, when the sea monsters had first been welcomed to Portorosso. Even Alberto was getting a bit misty-eyed, although he'd never admit it. The two boys dug into their favourite dish with gusto.

Harry didn't look so excited about it. He tried the trenette al pesto, but just shrugged.

“We need to figure out how we're going to get back into the monster world,” Luca announced. That was a problem he wasn't sure how to solve. Any door they might go through was just going to lead into the factory, and that was the last place they wanted to arrive. He frowned, chewing on a mouthful as he considered it. “What happens to the doors when the kids get too old to be scared anymore?”

“They go to storage,” said Harry. “They check them out every couple of years, but you can't open them from this end. You need the equipment.”

“So we'll have to find somebody else who's got a monster and wait there... but then when we get into the monster world they'll grab us right away,” said Luca. That wouldn't work at all. Mr. Waternoose might even have a special watch on doors from Liguria in case they tried to come back.

“Aren't there any doors anywhere else?” asked Alberto. “I mean... there's other scare companies, right?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, mouth full. “And there's a few at universities and stuff for research purposes, but they don't lead to kids' rooms.”

That sounded promising. Luca seized on it. “What doors are those? How do you find them?”

“I dunno, they're closet doors,” said Harry.

“There are other kinds of closets besides bedroom ones,” Helena observed thoughtfully. “There's linen closets, storage closets, broom closets...”

“Signora Marsigliese has a storage closet in her grocery store,” Giulia offered. “It's where she keeps stuff when there's no room for it on the shelves yet.”

“Oh, they won't use one in a shop,” said Harry, “especially if somebody lives there. The researchers don't actually want to meet any humans. They just want to find ways to stabilize the link, make it more energy-efficient, improve door matching, that kind of thing.”

“So nowhere there's people at night,” said Luca. “Where's got a closet that's closed at night?”

“Somewhere like a museum?” asked Helena.

“There's no museums in Portorosso,” said Alberto.

“No, but they've got lots of them in Genova,” said Giulia. “There's the Museum of Natural History, and the Maritime Museum, and Mamma does work sometimes at the Palazzo Spinola, which is going to be a museum someday but they have to restore it first because it got damaged during the war.”

“That's the one I'm thinking of,” Helena said. “There's one of the former bedrooms where I've helped touch up the frescoes, and I've never seen anything myself but there people working there full-time who swear it's haunted. They hear footsteps and see lights in the middle of the night.”

Luca did not believe in ghosts, but if closet monsters were a real thing then they might well be the explanation. “That's gotta be it!” he exclaimed. “There's a closet in there, right?”

“There's one where they keep paint and tools,” Helena agreed. “It's got a big sign on it that says solo personale autorizzato.”

“A lot of the ones the researchers use have signs like that,” Harry confirmed.

“Perfect!” Luca grinned. “So we just have to go back to Genova!”

“Now wait a moment, young man,” said Daniela. “I'm not sure I like the idea of you going back there, no matter how you get in. This monster world is obviously dangerous. Back me up, Lorenzo,” she said to her husband.

Lorenzo nodded. “Your mother is right, Luca. This really isn't your problem.”

“Yes, it is!” Luca insisted. “Louise and the others need our help. We're the ones who got them in trouble in the first place. Right, Alberto?”

“Right!” said Alberto through a mouthful of pasta.

“Well, you certainly can't go by yourselves,” Daniela said. “You have to at least take a grownup with you.”

“Oh, that's a good idea,” Giulia put in. “Like I said, Luca, your Mom's scary. The monsters will respect her.”

It was hard to say whether Daniela had really meant herself when she'd said a grownup, but that didn't seem to have been the part of the suggestion that startled her. “I'm not that scary!”

“Yes, you are,” chorused Alberto and Luca.

“No, you're not,” Harry scoffed.

“You haven't seen her get mad,” Luca told him.

Feeling like they had at least an approximation of a plan made Luca feel much better, and although he wouldn't have said it he was very reassured by the idea of taking his mother along. They wouldn't feel nearly so adrift and terrified in that strange world if they had a proper grownup with them.

After supper it was time for the kids to get into their pyjamas. Harry didn't have any with him, and nobody else's would have fit him, so he was given one of Massimo's extra shirts. It was as huge and awkward on him as Louise's monster-sized nightshirts had been on Alberto and Luca, but he didn't seem to mind.

The person who did mind was Giulia. Although she was too polite to say so, she was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of Harry sleeping in her room, so the boys offered to also sleep over so it wouldn't just be the two of them. Luca had hoped this would avoid any arguments. It did not.

“You don't like me,” said Harry accusingly, as they rolled out sleeping bags on the floor.

“No, you're fine,” said Giulia, without looking at him.

“Alberto and Luca said you'd be cool.”

“I am cool,” Giulia insisted, annoyed. “It's just that I haven't known you very long yet.”

Harry wasn't at all impressed. “You're scared of me. They said you'd be fine, but you're scared of monsters. I bet you're scared of them, too. Everybody here is, even if they try to be nice about it.” He smiled to himself. “I bet I could be in charge of this place in no time.”

“Giulia isn't scared of anything,” Luca said loyally.

“Sure,” Harry said, “so why doesn't she have a closet, then?”

“Because there isn't room for one,” said Giulia. “This house is very small.”

“I noticed.”

“And I don't need one anyway,” she added. “I keep all my stuff on my shelves, and my clothes go in the drawers. My school stuff mostly stays at Mamma's house in Genova, because that's where I use it.”

Harry considered that as he built a little nest for himself out of blankets. “What do human kids learn at school? Do you learn about monsters?”

“No,” said Luca, “because humans mostly don't believe in monsters, not even sea monsters like us. Nobody knows about us except the people in Portorosso and some of the ones at school.”

“And a lot of them think it's a joke,” Giulia added. “I didn't even believe in sea monsters until I met Luca and Alberto, and I didn't believe in closet monsters until I met you today.”

Harry frowned. “See, that's what Dad says – he says humans shouldn't know about us, because what you don't know is always scarier than what you do.”

“That's probably true,” Giulia observed. “Now that I know about sea monsters, they're not scary at all.” She looked at Alberto and grinned. “In fact, Alberto is the least scary monster I've ever met.”

Alberto stuck his tongue out at her.

“I think he's scarier than I am,” Luca said.

“Now, I think if humans knew about us, they'd be even more scared,” Harry went on, “because then they'd know we could be lurking there, waiting to jump out at any moment.”

“Or we'd just take the doors off all our closets,” said Giulia.

That clearly hadn't occurred to Harry. He blinked, then scowled, annoyed at being outwitted.

Harry couldn't lie down flat like a human or a sea monster, so while the other kids bedded down, he nestled into the pile of blankets he'd built, looking rather like an egg in an Easter basket. Everybody else began to drift off, only to discover that Harry snored. It wasn't loud, but it was a whistling sort of noise that was impossible to ignore. Giulia had to stuff her head under her pillow in order to block it out.

Halfway through the night, Giulia woke up again, as she sometimes did, and rolled over to get more comfortable – whereupon she found herself looking into multiple glowing eyes that blinked in unison. She inhaled sharply and sat up, clutching at the covers.

Harry started laughing. “Boo!” he said.

“Harry!” groaned Luca from his bed on the floor.

“I knew it! I knew you were scared of me!” Harry cackled.

“It's the middle of the night,” Alberto scolded. “Go back to sleep!”

Harry continued to giggle to himself as he settled down in his little nest again. Luca gave him a disapproving frown and looked at Alberto, who wasn't going to stop at frowning and had gone all the way to a nasty scowl. The two silently agreed that the first thing they were going to do when that haunted closet at the museum opened was to shove Harry in, and after that they wouldn't take any more help from him.

In the morning, Giulia got up first, and noticed that Harry was still asleep. She crept over and knelt next to him, leaning in so her nose was only an inch from his face. It took him a moment to realize she was there, and then a couple of his eyes flickered open, and he screamed like Signora Brugnole did when she saw a mouse.

“Now who's scared?” asked Giulia, and got up to go brush her teeth while Harry sat there panting.

Luca and Alberto had already been half awake, but were jolted to full alertness by Harry's cry. They yawned and rubbed their eyes and looked at him, then both lay down and pretended to go back to sleep. He'd deserved that.

Helena had crespelle ready when they came downstairs for breakfast. They were thinner than Louise's pancakes but were served with ricotta and nutella, and she'd also sliced some bananas to put on top. The kids sat down and dug in, and Massimo came to sit with them and sip his espresso.

“Giulietta,” he said, as his daughter put bananas on her breakfast. “Your mother and I have been talking about money.”

“Uh-huh,” Giulia said, then whacked Alberto's wrist with her butter knife as he reached across the table. “How about pass the nutella?” she suggested to him, as he shook the stinging joint.

Harry, meanwhile, looked down at his own plate dubiously. “Is this it?” he asked.

“What more did you want?” asked Giulia. She passed the nutella and knife to Alberto, and gave him a plate for Luca.

“How about bacon?” asked Harry. “Or eggs? Or waffles? It's just tiny pancakes with cheese, and some coffee?”

“You don't want to eat heavily first thing in the morning,” said Helena firmly. “It's not good for your stomach.” She poured her espresso into milk, and added a little bit of cocoa. “As we were saying, kids, I didn't think we'd all be heading back to Genova. I have enough money to pay for my own ticket, but not for the boys or Signora Paguro.”

That wasn't what any of the kids had expected to hear, least of all Harry. “How can you not have money for train tickets?” he asked. “They cost nothing.”

“Obviously they cost something,” Giulia told him, “if they were free we wouldn't be worried about it.”

Luca was not discouraged. “We'll have to earn the money, then,” he said.

“How?” asked Massimo. “I cannot hire all three of you for extra besides your pocket money.”

“I've got some I've saved,” said Alberto. “And we can do odd jobs around the town. I've done that before!” Sometimes he'd even managed not to break anything.

“So have I,” Giulia agreed.

“And I can help,” said Luca.

“How much money will we need for the tickets?” Giulia asked her mother.

Helena did a brief bit of math for one adult and three youths, assuming Harry would go in the pram again. The figure she came up with wasn't too daunting, so after they were done eating, the kids got dressed and set out to do some work.

“I'm gonna head up the hill to where the older people live, and ask if they need anything done in their gardens,” Alberto announced. They almost always did, and while pulling weeds and turning over soil were tedious, there were very few ways he'd found to do them wrong.

“I'll do deliveries, and keep the tips,” Giulia said.

“I'll go with Alberto,” Luca said.

“Great!” Alberto nodded. “You can do your big eyes thing, and they'll pay us extra.”

“How about me?” Harry asked, scuttling out into the yard to join them. Helena had decided to wash his little sailor suit while the kids were out, but that left the problem of what he would wear in the mean time. Massimo had gone through some old things and found a shirt he'd worn as a child and had kept to use as rags someday. It was a bit too big on Harry and had to be pinned so he wouldn't step on the hem, but it was clean.

“You want to help earn money?” Alberto asked, a bit suspicious. Harry clearly wasn't interested in work – he seemed to think money was just something people had in infinite quantities.

“No,” said Harry. “I need to find a new Dad, remember? Where are these Visconti people you mentioned?” He had evidently decided that he wanted not just a new family, but a new family with money.

“They live over the hill in the vineyards,” said Giulia. She checked her list of deliveries. “They've ordered some naselli... they must be having visitors because it's quite a few. Signor Visconti likes to schmooze people who are thinking about buying his wine.”

“I'll go with you, then,” Harry decided.

Giulia tried not to groan. “All right,” she said, “but you have to help. Do what I tell you to do, and don't wander off, you got it?”

“You're not my mother,” Harry told her.

“Do you want to stay at our house, or not?” Giulia asked. “Because if you do, you have to do what I say, got it?”

Harry snorted. “Fine.”

The boys headed up the hill to find some work to do, and Giulia attached the cart to her bike while Harry, under her direction, brought out boxes of ice and fish for delivery. He made a face as he handed her the first one.

“It smells,” he said.

“It's fish,” she told him. “Don't fish smell in your world?”

“I dunno, I've only seen them when they're already cooked,” Harry said. “And the ones in the pond at the zoo, that you can feed. Those don't smell.”

“They're not dead,” Giulia said. She climbed onto the bicycle. “Keep up, I'm not slowing down for you.”

She wasn't training for the race yet, not so early in the summer, so despite her words Giulia didn't hurry as she cycled up the hill to the first of her day's deliveries. Harry scuttled after her, looking around at the town and the people as they went. His many legs seemed able to carry him quite quickly, so she sped up a little.

Their first stop was the home of Signora Tarasco, where Giulia knocked on the door with a box of fish in her hands. The door opened, and Giulia proudly held out her merchandise. “Sardines, as ordered!” she announced. “Fresh from Papà's nets!”

“Ah, thank you, Giulia,” Signora Tarasco said. She took the box from Giulia, and then her eyes went to the waiting bicycle and cart, and she saw Harry standing next to it. For a split-second she just blinked at him, trying to figure out what she was seeing, then she screamed. She almost dropped the box, but grabbed it at the last moment, only for it to tip and pour dead sardines all over herself. Giulia dived to catch the fish, but could not grab them all, and ended up with two in her hand while the rest splattered on the pavement.

“Oh, my goodness!” the woman exclaimed, with a nervous giggle as she clutched the now-empty box. “You gave me a start! Wha... um... is that another of your friends, Giulia?”

“That's Harry,” said Giulia, picking herself up. “He's the monster from Rocco Marsigliese's closet.”

“No, the monster from Rocco's closet used to work for my Dad, but he fired her,” Harry corrected. “But he's a jerk, so now I'm looking for a new Dad, like Alberto.

“I saved these,” Giulia added, offering the fish she'd managed to grab.

“Oh... oh yes.” Signora Tarasco reached out and took them, her eyes locked on Harry. “I just... oh, dear, I ruined the rest of them. Let me... let me pay you for those.” She fumbled for her coin purse.

“You don't have to do that,” said Giulia, looking at the rest of the order, scattered on the cobblestones.

“No, no, it's only fair,” Signora Tarasco said distractedly. She gave Giulia a handful of coins without bothering to look at or count them. “Keep the change, dear,” she added, and shut the door, her only objective being to put something between herself and Harry as quickly as possible.

Giulia scowled and shoved the coins in her pocket. “Okay,” she told Harry, “you're going to have to stay behind the cart while people answer doors.”

“Luca and Alberto said the humans here would be fine,” Harry said, arms folded. “I'm starting to think they lied to me.”

“People will be fine once they get to know you,” Giulia told him. “Until then, you're scaring them. You're never gonna find a new family like that.”

Harry just sniffed. Evidently he thought if the humans were scared, that was their own fault.

They moved on to the next house. Harry would stay back with the cart while Giulia handed over the deliveries, but he refused to hide behind it. In fact, he seemed quite interested in people's reactions to him. Giulia explained who and what he was over and over, and people were polite but clearly uncomfortable with his presence. At least he didn't go around asking people if they wanted a child, like Luca and Alberto said he'd done in Genova, but she suspect that was merely because he'd already decided who his first choice was. If so, he was destined for bitter disappointment.

Giulia saved the Visconti family's fish for last, partly because it was furthest from home, and partly because she dreaded what Harry might do. She was sure it would be embarrassing at best and catastrophic at worse.

Harry himself perked up considerably when he realized there was only one box left. “Are we going to the Visconti house now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Giulia. “Although... how would you feel about having an older brother?” Maybe she could discourage him in advance.

“An older brother?” he asked.

“Yeah, they already have a son,” Giulia said.

Harry thought about that a little. “What is he like?”

“He's the biggest jerk in the world,” said Giulia. “Even worse than your Dad, I'm sure. He kept this town under his evil empire of injustice for years.”

“He did? How?” Harry wanted to know.

“Because everybody was scared of him!” Giulia said. “You never knew when he was going to show up and make your life miserable, just because he could! We finally kicked his butt last summer, and nobody takes him seriously anymore.”

They crested the hill and coasted back down it into the valley, where the vineyards were spread out around the big house where the Visconti family lived and ran their business. The villa had originally been built in the 18th century by their wealthy ancestors, with yellow walls and big cypress trees out front. It was now in rather poor repair, with the plaster flaking and cracks in the wall from the earthquake that had happened before Giulia was born, but still imposing. Harry grinned when he saw it, and would have gone right up the double staircase leading to the front door, but Giulia shook her head.

“Deliveries go around the back,” she said.

She led the way around the gravel path to the back garden, where the kitchens were. Harry frowned.

“This looks like a servants' entrance,” he said.

“It used to be,” Giulia said, “but I told you, nobody has servants anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's snooty. It's like you're saying you're better than anyone else. The Viscontis don't need servants – they do that anyway.”

They passed the garage. Giulia had been hoping Ercole wouldn't be there, just because she didn't want to see him, but he was, checking the air pressure on his Vespa's tyres. He looked up as she passed, then did a double-take.

“Porca paletta! What is that?”

“Is that him?” Harry asked excitedly. “Their son?”

“Yes. Ignore him,” Giulia instructed.

But Harry scuttled right into the open garage. Ercole crab-walked backwards, then scrambled to his feet as if to flee. If that were his intention, he changed his mind when Harry got too close to his precious Vespa. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don't touch that!”

“Are you the one who used to have the whole town under an evil empire?” Harry asked eagerly.

Ercole knew exactly where he'd heard that. “For your information,” he said, moving his Vespa aside so that it wasn't too close to this odd little creature. “People in this town used to love me until those sea monsters came along. Now it's sea monster this and sea monster that, and nobody has time for real people anymore.” He peered suspiciously at his visitor. “What are you?”

“Aren't you scared of me?” Harry asked.

“You can't be scary if you hang out with Spewlia,” Ercole replied. “You're just a little bug. You should mind you don't get squashed like one.”

Giulia rolled her eyes, but on the whole this wasn't as bad as she'd feared. She knocked on the kitchen door. “Signora Visconti!” she called out. “I've got your fish!”

#fanfic #pixar luca #luca 2021 #monsters inc #monsters university #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #giulia marcovaldo #ercole visconti #scary monsters

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indigosunsetao3 · 1 month

Text

A Reason To Try

Chapter 2 - Overrun

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Please read the tags on AO3 for any of your triggers

Alex Keller X Original FMC 6.9k words - AO3 Link

“I know E,” Mads said quietly as her nephew whined in the backseat. He did not want to get up, having only been asleep a few hours. He cried the whole time and had an absolute meltdown when Madeline tried to get him to put on proper pants. She had conceded to pajama pants, his favorite Batman ones, if he would put his shoes on himself. She didn’t say a word when they ended up being a pair of mismatched sandals, she just threw his sneakers into the duffle. She barely had the capacity herself to throw on weather appropriate clothes herself, her head pounding from the stress and the start of a hangover.

“It’s still dark out.” Everett stated as he wiped at his face. He had started to come around a bit and had been able to buckle himself in the booster as Madeline pulled out of the parking garage. It was under the apartment building and they hadn’t seen a single person as she threw their bags into the trunk. She had forgotten to zip up Josephine’s from earlier and had to scoop the pill bottles and some other items back into it hoping she hadn’t missed anything. “Where are we going?”

“Mom found some friends to take us to her office in Georgia,” Madeline answered as she waited for the automatic garage door to open up. When it clicked into place she pulled out and found that there wasn’t a single person outside, too early for even the runners to be out. The roads remained empty as she rounded out of the apartment complex and Madeline blew the redlight to make the left onto the main road. Her sister had emphasized they had to go right now and she wasn’t going to waste any time waiting for no reason.

“Why are they going so early?” Everett asked with a groan as he threw his head back against the booster seat. He had certainly learned his dramatics from her.

“They’re in a hurry is all,” Madeline said as she pressed her foot harder on the pedal as the GPS told her she’d arrive in nineteen minutes. “And if we want to go with them, we need to hurry as well.”

Everett didn’t answer after that, he just huffed and turned his head to look out the window. Madeline kept her eye on him in the rearview mirror as she cruised through the streets, knowing she would be pulled over in an instant if the police saw her. It drove Josephine crazy how fast she was when she drove, stating she followed too close and darted around enough to make her sick, which meant Josephine usually drove when they were together. Madeline had been taught how to drive by a car enthusiast when she was sixteen, the guy old enough to go to jail if he had been caught with her. His method was if you weren’t leading the pack, you were going too slow and Madeline followed that same mentality now.

The further she delved into Boston though, she found there was more activity, people were actually out and about and she had to slow down. The bar scene was just starting to wrap in some places and Madeline watched as a group stumbled out and headed down the sidewalk. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently waiting for them to cross the street when a taxi came flying down the road from the opposite way. She knew what was going to happen an instant before it did. She screamed and hit the horn as a last-ditch effort to warn them right before the car plowed down the group.

“Cover your eyes!” Madeline yelled to Everett whose eyes were wide as he stared at the building where the car eventually stopped. “E!” Madeline yelled as she turned around and nudged his knee, “look away from it.” When he turned to look at her, she faced the accident. Despite being in a rush Madeline found herself sitting there staring in shock.

The driver of the car pushed the door open and fell out and she watched them jerk uncontrollably as they fell to the ground, hands scrabbling at their throat where blood was pouring. Their passenger got out a moment later and ran flatfooted at the people that were making their way toward the scene to help. Then the passenger, a young woman, leapt on a man twice her size and tackled him to the ground and began ripping at him with her hands. Others tried to pull her off but she was unstoppable as she snarled and fought them, biting and ripping at them.

“Oh my God,” Madeline muttered as she stared, feeling as if she were in a dream. The taxi driver was up and had grabbed the closest person to him and sank his teeth into their throat. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch as blood coated his skin, he just moved onto the next person. People were realizing what was happening and started to scatter instead of helping. She was so busy watching one side she didn’t see another person run up at her car.

“Oh fuck,” she nearly screamed as someone started beating on the driver’s window and kicking at the door. She hit the gas before thinking and the car squealed at the sudden power surge. Everett was screaming in the back and Madeline joined him as she swerved around a small group of people running to the accident. They certainly didn’t look like they were coming to help, based on the blood all over their clothes and the crazed looks in their eyes.

“What’s happening?” Everett asked, crying again, as he turned to try and look back behind them. “Aunt Mads why are those people hurting one another?” His eyes were wide as he waited for an answer and his hands were holding onto the booster seat arms like a lifeline.

“I don’t know,” Madeline answered truthfully, her eyes darting over to her window that had blood running down it from the person’s bloody hands pounding on it. “I don’t know what is happening E,” she continued as she slammed the brakes hard when a police car came down a side street and cut them off with lights and sirens going. She groaned at the yank of the seatbelt before hitting the gas, foot to the floor, to get to their destination. She hoped wherever this place was that they were headed to wasn’t dealing with this. She had no idea what she would do if they couldn’t get out. “Just sit back in your seat and close your eyes, yeah?” She said looking up at him in the mirror again, “we’ll be out of here soon.”

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“Come on Farah,” Alex muttered as he paced the empty room holding the phone to his ear. He had called three times now and it just continue to ring. “Pick up,” he muttered before hanging up with a frustrated sigh. Things were moving quick, too quick, and he was second guessing leaving her for the umpteenth time. He had been uneasy about it from the start and now that things were already much worse than they thought, him being here was useless. They didn’t need him or his resources to help get down to Venezuela, they just needed to sneak in and extract without all the political fanfare.

He was staring out the window, mentally going through a list of what he could do. What resources he could tap and favors he could call in to get back to Farah. He was about to hit dial again when the phone rang instead and he answered it before it had a change to even finish the first one.

“Farah,” he said a bit relieved and agitated. “Where have you been?” He asked as his eyes darted up to the clock and figure out the time difference. It was almost eleven in the morning there.

“Busy,” Farah answered and she sounded rushed. “Alex, it’s already a disaster,” she stated as he heard people yelling in the background. “We’ve been lied to, it’s spread everywhere. Russian forces pulled out right after you left. They left everything behind and just disappeared.” He heard her yell an order, muffled so she must have tilted the phone against her chest.

“Goddamn it,” Alex said as he turned heel and reached for the door. He was leaving. He wasn’t going to wait here and let her struggle and suffer on her own. “Is the sickness there?” He asked as he jogged down some steps to try and find Price. People were running around the place like mad and he had to press himself up against a wall to avoid being bowled over by a man sprinting down the hall with cases of weapons.

“I haven’t seen it,” Farah answered and Alex breathed a small sigh of relief at that. “But sick people have been seen in the city,” she cut off and Alex heard someone talking to her in rapid succession. “I have to get back and save those we can.”

“Farah, no,” Alex stated harshly. “You need to stay away from it. You need to stay alive and lead the people,” he reasoned and he heard her huff. “I’m coming back,” he stated not knowing how he was going to manage it just yet. He had done many favors for people over the years and never asked for anything in return. It was time to start cashing them in, beginning with Laswell. “I’ll find the first flight.”

“You are not,” Farah answered sternly. “You have a job to do. I sent you on it, you will finish it.”

Alex shut his eyes at the command. He had defied orders before, to stay with her, so he could defy them again to get back to her. How many times had he bled for her, almost died for her, broken his own heart over and over just for her. This wasn’t any different. Everything had done these past few years had been for her and he wasn’t about to stop that now.

“I am,” Alex said as he yanked open a stairwell door. “You can’t do this alone.” He knew he was being a bit irrational at his haste but the panic of her being there without him had been consuming him for a while now.

“I am not alone,” Farah answered, her voice taking an icy tone that he had only been on the receiving end of one other time and it had nearly shattered him then. “I survived without you before Alex, and I can do it now. Do not doubt my abilities, or my team.” There was a pause before, “I do not need you.” The silence was a long one and the stab of hurt made Alex’s steps slow to a halt again as he gripped the phone hard to his ear. “You are my second, I have given you a command. You will finish the mission.”

“Farah,” Alex tried as he stared ahead not really seeing, his mind’s eye picturing her face. The same face she had given him when he had confessed he couldn’t just be a bedwarmer for her anymore the last time they had been together. That his feelings were eating him alive and he needed to know what she was thinking. She had told him that she couldn’t be anything more to him than that. Stated he needed to accept her position, that it wasn’t going to change, and he should move on. Her ambitions were too high, life too busy, to even think about settling down; especially with her second. Feelings would make things a disaster and she gave him the ultimatum of figuring it out or leave. “Please,” he finally tacked on knowing it was futile.

“We will be fine. Call me when the job is complete,” she stated and Alex couldn’t tell if she actually was masking her hurt at her own words, or was just that disconnected between her job and her heart. “Goodbye Alex.”

The phone disconnected and Alex sighed, curling his hands in a frustrated gesture feeling the phone digging into his fingers. He knew she was done with the conversation and there would be no changing her mind. When her brother had betrayed her, she had declared him an enemy without a second thought and they were family that had grown up and survived together. Alex hadn’t been around that long and he knew she would not hesitate to push Alex away if it came between her and her goals. Shoving the phone into his pocket he headed back to the office to gather his belongings and head to the transport.

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“We’re here,” Madeline breathed out as she looked at the GPS. She had made it in the nineteen-minute time frame it originally predicted, even after stopping and watching the horrific scene at the bar. She had pulled over to parallel park on the street, ignoring the no parking sign. Her sister could pay that stupid ticket. “Let me get the stuff from the trunk, do not get out before I come get you,” Madeline instructed as she killed the engine and shoved the keys in her coat pocket. Everett nodded, he had been quiet the rest of the car ride, only sniffling every now and again.

With shaking hands Madeline opened the car door and looked around before darting to the trunk to dig out the bags. She had to adjust the strap on her sisters backpack a few times before slinging the duffle over her shoulder and shoving it behind her. She looked around again before slamming the trunk shut and hurrying around to the side of the car and yanked open the door. Everett was already out of his seat waiting for her and his hand clasped hers hard as she helped him out.

Their feet crunched over the salt pellets someone had poured out over the sidewalk as they went. The buildings along the street were dark, all of them office buildings and warehouses. Madeline glanced at the scribbled post it in her other hand to make sure she had the right address. She hadn’t even thought to ask her sister what the place was, and honestly who the hell John Price was anyway. Was he another scientist? Doctor? She was pretty sure it wasn’t Josephine’s boss; his name was something like Bart which still made Madeline laugh because that did not sound like a stuffy scientist name.

“There’s a man lying on the sidewalk,” Everett blurted out suddenly and Madeline glanced down at him before following where he was pointing. There, in fact, was a man lying on the sidewalk and Madeline froze her steps to look at him. He was bundled under a blanket and had a few layers of clothes on that she could see. She narrowed her eyes a bit trying to determine if he was just a person that had found the least hard part of the ground to sleep on for the evening, or if it was something else.

“We just need to go around him quietly,” Madeline reasoned as she scooted Everett around her to walk on the side closest to the road now. “He’s probably just sleeping,” she stated giving Everett a reassuring smile as they got closer.

“I want to sleep,” Everett muttered before seeing Madeline put a finger to her lips to indicate for him to be quiet.

They sidestepped the man and he didn’t move, and Madeline held the breath she had been holding. She tried to look at him to see if he was even breathing, unable to tell with all the layers, not that there was anything she could do anyway. Once they were around him Madeline found a break in the wall they had been following. There was a gate that was propped half-open and she saw the number drilled into the brick, this was the address. Shifting the bag on her shoulder a bit she headed through it, quickening her steps as she saw people through the windows bustling about. They were the first people she had seen since they left the house that didn’t look crazed, or dead.

“Stop,” came a voice as Madeline reached the door and yanked it open. She blinked a few times as a flashlight blinded her and she winced away. She quickly let go of the door and stepped back as a man dressed in a solid black military uniform aimed the light beam onto Everett who pressed hard into her side.

“I’m here to see John Price,” Madeline said, grateful her voice didn’t shake like she knew the rest of her body was doing. “Do you know where he is?”

The man didn’t answer her, but spoke into a microphone on his headset stating two people were looking for Captain Price. He watched the two of them as he listened to whoever was on the other end talk. She moved her hand from Everett’s to gently rub his head, realizing she hadn’t put him in hat and it was freezing outside. His ears were like little icicles and she pressed her hand over one, pushing the other into her leg, to try and warm them a bit. Her eyes darted to the building where people were moving around still and she shifted on her feet.

“Can we wait inside?” She asked as they continued to stand in silence for a few seconds. “It’s freezing out here,” she tacked on as the guy glared at her. “And I’ve, well, it wasn’t a fun ride over here and I’d much rather be inside.”

The guy looked her up and down one more time before nodding his head toward the door indicating she could step inside. She shifted and pulled the door open before gently pushing Everett through, he was clinging to her hard and she had to shuffle step in before the warmth hit them. She looked around the room, it was a big open space with a reception desk that had someone behind it and she walked over. The man that had stopped them had stayed outside on some sort of guard duty.

“Hello,” Madeline said as she rested a hand on the counter, which was up to her chest. It reminded her of an old police precinct, eerily similar to one where she had visited too often to bail out yet another ex. “I, ah, don’t know if he told you,” she continued pointing with her thumb to the guy outside the window. “I’m here to see John Price?” The woman looked up at her with a disinterested glance and didn’t say anything so Madeline continued, “my sister Josephine Martin sent us, said for me to ask for him. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule.” That caught the woman’s attention.

“Do you have IDs?” She asked as she moved to lean over the counter edge and glanced down at Everett who was staring up at her.

“Oh yeah, hang on,” Madeline answered as she quickly let her duffle fall to the ground with a thump and she bent down to dig around. It was a disaster inside, and she had to pull a few things out before she found the first passport, Everett’s. She handed him his before she dug around some more and found her own before standing up and taking E’s back and handing them to the woman. “I’m Madeline, he’s Everett,” she said a bit lamely as the woman flipped open each of them.

“Everett Martin,” she said and closed Everett’s, “and Madeline Torres,” she finished not sounding impressed. She looked at the passport for a moment before flicking her eyes up to Madeline then back down again.

“Yes,” Madeline answered a bit confused. “I’m Josephine’s sister. She asked me to come here, and ask for John Price.” Were all these people dense Madeline wondered as she looked around.

“We have clearance for two Martins,” the woman answered. Madeline felt her stomach plummet as she looked at Everett for a second. “Where’s the boy’s father?”

“What? His father isn’t around, asshole has been gone for over a year.” She normally tried not to talk bad about Everett’s father in front of him but she was too worried to really think about it. “I’m Everett’s Aunt, I’ve been taking care of him while my sister has been working,” she babbled and moved to dig out her phone. “I’ll just call her and she’ll-” she started but the woman cut her off.

“I only have clearance for him. No one mentioned Torres,” she explained a bit clipped.

“Josephine’s maiden name is Torres, she never changed it after the divorce,” the woman just stared at her. “You’re expecting me to send my six-year-old nephew alone with you?” Madeline snapped as Everett grabbed her even harder. “Let me just call Josephine,” she continued as she fumbled in her pocket. “Or get John down here,” she tacked on a bit snippily, “I’m sure Josephine gave him our names.”

“How do I know you didn’t just take him and left his father behind?” The woman asked and Madeline was sure she felt her eyes bug out of her head.

“I’m sorry, are you insane?” Madeline asked a bit sarcastically as she let her hand hang limply for a second out of the shock of the outlandish accusation. “I am his Aunt, I live with them. I want to talk to someone else because you clearly are not getting it.” She finally got her phone out of her pocket and swiped through it to call Josephine and hit dial. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. The woman just watched her before calling someone else over and explained what was happening to them.

“We can take him to John. He’s upstairs,” the new person stated. “But until we get approval you will have to wait,” he stated. He was at least a little nicer than the woman.

“I,” Madeline started as she glanced at Everett. She couldn’t risk him not being able to leave and get to his mom but she didn’t want to send him alone either. She really needed Josephine to pick up. She tried calling again, wedging her phone between her shoulder and ear to squat down in front of Everett. The phone just kept ringing. “Everett, you are going to have to go with them,” she stated and winced as she saw the tears start up again. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be right behind you, we just have to work out paperwork,” she tried explaining and Everett clung to her.

“No,” Everett said firmly as he clung to her and she glanced up at the two people who were being impossibly thick about the whole situation. She knew her face was portraying a ‘see I told you’ look but they didn’t budge. “I’m scared Aunt Maddy,” Everett wailed and she sighed, peeling her phone off her ear and dialed again before wrapping Everett up in a hug.

“I know E,” Madeline answered as she rubbed his back gently, “I am too but it’s okay.” She was lying, this wasn’t okay but she didn’t need him to have a meltdown again. “I’ll be right behind you. They are going to take you to mommy’s friend,” another lie she was presuming, “and John will make sure you are okay.” She stared at the two adults who didn’t seem to have an ounce of empathy in them as they just watched the scene in front of them. “Damn it,” she muttered as Josephine still didn’t pick up.

“Can’t I wait with you?” Everett asked as he looked up at the two people watching. “If you’re coming anyway,” he tacked on. Too smart for his own good.

“You need to get situated,” Madeline answered as she pointed at his mismatched shoes, “and put on proper sneakers. I promise I am right behind you,” she said as she stood up and glared at the woman as she shoved the duffle at them. “His shoes are in there,” she instructed as she snatched up her own passport again and threw Everett’s in the bag. “You’ll need to carry it; he won’t be able to.”

Everett lost it when the man came around the counter to take him upstairs and Madeline slammed her cellphone down on the counter and grabbed him. He was howling and she hefted him up as he wrapped his arms and legs around her tightly. He was overly tired, stressed, and was probably still trying to process the shit they had seen on the way over. Now he was being told he had to go with intimidating looking strangers which was the final straw for him.

“You tell John Price to come down here, right fucking now,” Madeline demanded of the woman, done trying to play nice. “No,” she interrupted the woman when she opened her mouth, “right now. I don’t care if you have to drag him down by his goddamn ear. My nephew is not going until I talk to him. Maybe he understands what happens when someone gets married, they get a new name from their sister. I don’t understand why they is such a hard concept for you.”

At the same time Alex was in the stairwell just a floor up and he heard the faint sound of a child crying. It was been enough to catch his attention. There was only one child that would be around at this point, the scientist’s kid, which meant they had somehow made it after all. He called over his comms that the civilians they were escorting had arrived before pushing open the door to the main room. He caught the very frazzled woman’s rant and couldn’t help but smirk, despite himself, at the thought of anyone dragging Price down by his ear. She certainly looked like she would try it though, and Price may cow to it out of sheer surprise.

“Someone looking for Price?” Came a voice and Madeline turned on her heel to see a man walking over, having appeared from a stairwell at the end of the room.

“Yes,” Madeline said quickly, stepping away from the counter toward the guy. He was tall and she had to tilt her head back up to see him fully. He was dressed differently than the other people she had been speaking with. He was in a simple pair of jeans, though he had a thigh holster with a pistol in it, and a t-shirt over another long shirt and a brown military vest topping it all off. She noted the American flag on the vest and an insignia of some sort on his shoulder guards. Maybe Price was a military man. Josephine really should have given her more details.

“Are you him?” She asked but the guy shook his head quickly so she continued talking before he could interrupt. “Do you know where he is? My sister Josephine Martin sent me here,” Madeline said trying to talk a little louder than Everett who was still wailing. “They’re telling me that because my name is different, I can’t go,” she sighed and rubbed Everett’s back as his little fingers dug hard into her back at her last words. “I’m Madeline, Everett’s aunt. My last name is Torres, it’s Josephine’s maiden name. She never changed her name back after she got divorced.” She knew she sounded desperate and probably giving this guy way more information than he needed, or wanted, but she didn’t care. “And his last name is Martin like his mom.” She finished indicating Everett whose face was thoroughly burrowed in her hair.

Alex took in the scene before him and he stared at the woman behind the counter who seemed like she was being defiant for the sake of it. It was obvious the boy was stuck to this woman, Madeline, like glue. Price had stated that it was Josephine’s sister bringing her son which meant this had to be the aunt. He didn’t know why the shadow was being so obtuse, especially given the situation that was rapidly unfolding outside and around the city. Who else would be showing up at this hour asking for John Price except for someone that was sent specifically to find him.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you to Price,” Alex stated and the woman behind the counter opened her mouth but shut it as Alex glared at her. “This your bag?” He asked and Madeline nodded as he snatched it up and slung it over his shoulder without hesitation, cutting the shadow one more side-eye as she crossed her arms watching him. “I’m Alex, I’m working with Price on this,” he explained as he gestured for her to follow him. “The Shadows are a bit robotic, afraid to do anything their operator doesn’t tell them explicitly to do,” he tacked on loud enough for the those behind the counter to hear him.

“Seem a bit idiotic,” Madeline answered truthfully, having no idea what Shadows meant, perhaps that was another military thing. Everett adjusted to twist his head out of where he had buried it to look around when he realized they were walking. “Think you can walk now bud?” Madeline asked him as he rested his cheek on her shoulder. “I love you but you ate too much spaghetti last night,” she teased as he wiggled against her even more, locking his ankles around her waist, he was not going to let her put him down. “Fine,” she said and adjusted her grip a bit.

They were about to clear the door to the stairs when there was the sound of gun fire and breaking glass. Madeline instantly flinched, ducking down to her knees and twisting Everett so her back was to the where the sound of the gunfire came from to protect him. She was curled around her nephew, her hand on the back of his head to hold him close as he shrieked. The sounds were echoing and Madeline resisted pressing her hands over her own ears as the shouts erupted from the soldiers in the room.

Alex saw it all happen in rapid succession. The glass blew out when it was pelted with gunfire from a rogue gun being fired as the guard outside was attacked. The idiot hadn’t lifted his finger off the trigger as he was flung back into the window. Alex also flinched and ducked a bit, moving himself out of instinct to cover Madeline’s back with his own body. He had thrown the duffle down on the ground in favor to get his pistol out of the holster and safety off in as he assessed the escalating situation.

“You hurt?” Alex asked, not taking his eyes off the windows seeing more movement outside. People were rushing about outside but he wasn’t sure if that was the Shadows or something else.

“No,” Madeline answered as she felt Alex pressed up against her back. “No, we’re alright,” she continued as she checked her hands to make sure there was no blood on them.

“Good-” Alex stated before cutting off as someone leaped through a broken window and made a beeline for the soldiers behind the counter. The intruder was covered in blood, one arm ripped to bloody ribbons and snarling. He raised his gun and took a shot, catching them in the shoulder so they wheeled to the side a bit from the hit, but they didn’t slow. It was one of those things.

“Get in the stairwell,” he instructed suddenly. He stood up fully and grabbed Madeline under the arm to heft her up, bodily dragging her back to her feet without much effort.

Madeline glanced over her shoulder at Alex to ask him where to go after getting in there when she saw the soldier that was on guard duty outside hanging halfway through one of the windows. He was leaned impossibly far back with a person, the guy that was sleeping on the sidewalk, on his chest scratching and clawing at his face as he screamed. She was transfixed as the soldier screamed, his helmet knocked off and his impossibly young face contorted in fear and pain as the other guy tore him apart.

“Go,” Alex said a bit more urgently as he shoved Madeline again with one hand on her shoulder to snap her out of her daze. As the screaming from the young soldier died, he twisted back around to take a shot at the man who had attacked him. This shot didn’t miss its intended target. He hit the guy right in the temple, the blood spraying everywhere on impact.

The attacker fell instantly back out the window but the man he was attacking was jerking around and Madeline heard a feral sounding growl come from him. That was enough for her to finally get moving. She bent down and scooped up her duffle and bolted for the stairs. It was hard work trying to go up the steps with Everett in her arms and the duffle dragging along each step as she went. Her legs were burning with effort as she barely cleared the first seven stairs to the halfway mark to the second floor when she heard Alex fire again. The snarling and screaming seemed to be echoing in her skull before the stairwell door slammed shut muffling the chaos. She looked over the railing to see Alex standing there for a moment preparing to shoot if anyone came through but after a few seconds he backed up toward the steps.

“They’ve breached the building,” Alex said into his comms as he kept his back pressed to the railing as he went up the stairs rapidly. “I’ve got the civilians, the kid and his aunt,” he tacked on waiting for Price to come back. “We’re in the stairwell on our way to you.”

“Get to the transport,” came Price’s voice quickly. “Graves has the cars outside ready. No time to finish prepping,” he said before cursing. “They’re all over the damn place, where did they come from?”

“They’re probably drawn by the gunfire. Shit infects them quick,” Alex answered before a loud bang on the stairwell door made him jump. His eyes shot to the hollow metal door before glancing up at Madeline who had frozen in her trek. He quickly put a finger to his lips before digging into one of his vest pockets. He pulled out a new magazine and clipped it into the pistol, putting the half spent one away in another pocket to reload later. He had no idea how he was going to get out to the transport with two civilians and just a sidearm for protection.

“We’re getting overrun,” came Graves. “Put a little pep in your step boys.”

“We’re almost there,” Price answered, “where are you Echo?” There was gunfire in the background of his comms and Alex could also hear it coming from outside the stairwell.

Alex didn’t answer as the banging on the door intensified, the pounding rabid and only getting louder as more fists and feet joined it. They had to get out of there and outside quickly, their only option an emergency exit that had a big red sign on it that it would sound an alarm if opened. They were going to just put a big neon on sign on their backs when that high-pitched wailing started. He weighed his options before waving his hand to indicate for Madeline to come to him.

“You’ve got two fucking minutes,” Graves snapped before someone in the background shouted in terror.

“Echo 3-1,” came Price again. “Do you copy? Get to the goddamn transport.”

“Copy,” Alex barely whispered and Price seemed to get the hint. He didn’t come back again.

Madeline shuffled down the steps as quietly as she could, shifting Everett back to her already exhausted left arm to try and get a breather. She slipped the duffle at Alex’s feet before flinching as the door groaned under the assault from the other side. Despite the chill, sweat was running down her back and she felt flustered, flushed and completely overwhelmed. Everett wasn’t helping either, not that it was his fault but his panic was ricocheting hers up tenfold. He was whimpering and she shifted him again, feeling like her arms were going to give out, her legs shaking from the exertion.

“We have to get to the transport,” Alex said very quietly, his eyes never leaving the door where the threat was just on the other side. It was lucky their predators didn’t know how to use doorhandles, at least not yet anyway. “It’s outside around the back of the building. A few SUVs,” he continued to explain and he saw Madeline’s eyes widen at the thought of having to run outside. “It’s not far if we go out that door,” he nodded his head at the emergency exit.

“The second we open that door the alarm will sound,” Madeline said, having seen the warning signs on it. “They will be all over us,” she gasped. “I can’t run, not with him,” the panic was starting to tighten around her throat with a stranglehold. “Can we go upstairs? Just barricade...barricade in until,” she stated, her voice a hoarse whisper as she felt her body begin to vibrate with impending doom. “I can’t...we’ll never,” she was heaving for breath and shifted for the stairs. He could run for it, she wasn’t doing it.

“Give him to me,” Alex said, his eyes staring hard into hers, keeping his tone even but with an edge of command. “I can carry him. You’ll need to get the door, and then get behind me. Hold onto my vest and don’t let go,” he stated and he saw her shake her head in fear. “Listen to me,” he put a hand on her shoulder and gripped hard, giving her something to ground and focus on aside from the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. “I know you’re scared, but you need to fight through it. We need to get to those cars, to the team. We stay here, we’re done for. They will not wait for us,” he nodded his head at the emergency door. “We have a minute left. It’s now or never.”

Madeline felt the panic whine in her throat before she heard it. Everett was holding onto her like a leach but she nodded once at Alex willing to go with his plan even if her instincts were screaming to go hide. He had helped this far so she had no choice but to trust him now. If she didn’t they were dead and his plan at least gave them a shot.

Alex didn’t wait for her to say anything in confirmation as one of his hands came around Everett’s waist, snaking its way between his little body and hers. Madeline felt her nephew attempt to hang on tighter but Alex wrenched him free relatively easily and the boy screamed. The pounding on the other side kicked up a notch and snarling joined the sound which drew all of their eyes for a moment.

“It’s okay, E,” Madeline said quickly as she scooped up the duffle. She would ditch it if it got in the way of running but she needed to try and keep it, all their clothes and other items were in there. “He’s going to help us, just hold onto him, alright? I’ll be right behind you, yeah? We get to the car and you can sit in my lap.” She rubbed his back absently as he stared at her with watery eyes before nodding. Under normal circumstances her nephew had never met a stranger, a small blessing since she was sure if he was shy of other people this would be ten times harder.

Alex didn’t give Everett a chance to say if he was okay with this, there wasn’t time to coddle. He shifted Everett more on his side, grabbing his tiny wrist with his hand that held his pistol to wrap it around his neck. The boy seemed to get the memo and his other arm looped around the back of Alex’s neck and he held his hands tight together, burrowing into his side almost painfully tight.

“If something happens you get him there,” Madeline ordered as Alex situated Everett, the boy was too distracted by his own hiccupping and crying to pay attention to what Madeline was saying. “Just…keep him alive. He's priority.” Her eyes darted to her nephew before she let out a shaky breath knowing that she just signed off on allowing him to leave her for dead.

“I’m keeping you both alive,” Alex said as he held onto the kid with his left arm and prayed that his bullets would hold out and he hadn’t just lied. “Get the door.”

Madeline nodded before her shaking hands pushed on the red paddle on the door. She felt it resist for a moment, as if the mechanism was questioning if she really wanted to do this. She continued to press and there was a click as the lock gave way then a half a second later the piercing alarm started. The cold air hit her face like a slap and Alex quickly pushed past her shouldering the door open more. The hand with the pistol grabbed hers and securely tucked it around one of the loops of his vest before he raised it in front of them and they began to run.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod #my fic #alex keller fanfic #alex keller cod #alex cod #cod alex #alex keller x oc #a reason to try

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saintsir4n · 10 months

Text

WARNINGS: LIGHT SMUT AND ANGST

___

1914

SOFT lips pulled Tommy away from his never-ending thoughts.

Confined in Eden's room, the couple were wrapped up in her light sheets, she adorned his overshirt and Tommy couldn't look away, even after just waking from his slumber.

Thankful for her mother's night shift and her father helping Jeremiah with carving little Isaiah a new toy, Eden didn't have to sneak Tommy into the house for once, so they spent hours between her sheets.

The February weather was a nightmare, so they had no choice but to get naked... for warmth of course.

Tommy made sure to take his time with Eden, he knew her body, the moans that escaped her whenever his fingers glided against her delicate skin, how she trembled beneath him, the whimpers she let out in response to his praises, or how she gasped for air at the slow and steady pace he went just for her comfort. Although he usually tended to her desires she knew he could never be completely gentle for long, driving her to shudder and scream under the moonlight, no doubt waking the street.

His hands, like whenever they were out never left her, nor did his eyes as he pleasured and brought to light her darkest fantasies. His moans were the source of her undoing, just like his twisted tongue, compelling her and lapping up every nectar that emitted from her. I love you, oh saying that only pulled Eden deeper into his grasp.

"Y'know you twitch in your sleep?" she asked against his lips. Throughout the night, she woke up after thinking she had an intruder, but no it was just Tommy twitching beside her.

"I was dreamin'," he mumbled, turning away from the skylight creeping past the curtains and trailing his finger over the black madonna, resting on her cleavage.

And she traced over the Romani sun that decorated his skin, "Of what? Were you gettin' tickled or somethin'?"

She could've sworn she heard him mutter something in his sleep, kařo, fi, nivă, presumably rokker so she didn't understand a word.

He snorted, "Just dreamin'."

"Is that all I'm getting out of you?"

Tommy didn't reply, instead, he just stared at her, with his half-open eyes, completely enamoured by her being. Even in the morning, she looked so effortlessly beautiful, her scarf that protected her hair, slid off, leaving her hair slightly muddled and frizzy, but he didn't care. He spent that last hour or two dreaming of her and it wasn't often he dreamed, he left that to his aunt, but the images of the future flashing through his mind were enough for him to stay asleep.

He leaned over, caressing Eden's skin, peppering kisses over her jaw, worshipping her like the very saviour he proclaimed her to be. His lips found her neck, occasionally nipping at it, only to be soothed by his tongue after.

Torturously slow, the bloody bastard was teasing her.

"We gotta stop," she breathed out, trying to push off of him, but he didn't relent, still kissing her neck and letting his fingers wander between her legs, grunting when she slapped his hand away, "Tommy."

"Yeah, you said that a lot last night... Tommy, oh Tom," a deep chuckle escaped him when he received a glare from her.

"You and your fucking voices," rolling her eyes, she touched her neck, feeling a small ache, "there better not be a mark there."

"And why not, it's never bothered you before," he said, throwing his arms behind his head, watching when she got out of bed, wobbling slightly and picked up her handheld mirror, that rested on her desk.

Her room might've been small, but she knew how to make the most of it; bed, dresser, desk and even a small space for a rug for when she wanted to read. Tommy liked it, it was so...Eden.

"Because no one can usually see 'em," before he could retort, she rushed to the peak out of the curtains, "You have to be out of here in twenty. Mum'll be back by then and no doubt Dad will be round soon to get his packed lunch just before leavin' again."

He reached down to pick his pocket watch off of the floor, "I thought you said we had until seven."

It was only six.

"Remember last time when they caught us? Dad threatened you with his revolver and Mum chased me through the house with a slipper, got a mean bruise on my arse because of that."

A ghost of a smirk tugged on his lips, "Yeah, you had a matchin' one from me."

Eden whined, "I mean it, Tommy."

"I'll come to find you later, it's your day off," he got off the bed, reaching for his undergarments, letting Eden sneak a peek at him just before he put them on.

"I promised I spent it with Enzo and Dotty," she hesitantly uttered, watching as he tensed upon hearing her comment.

"Where?" he snapped his head towards her, awaiting the dreaded response.

"At Enzo's...don't be mad." she nervously bit down on her bottom lip knowing exactly where this conversation was about to go.

Tommy slowly cocked his head to the side, "And you can do that here, no?"

She rapidly shook her head, "Enzo said his mum is making us some food and I couldn't pass that up."

"You could but don't want to," he pointed out, putting on his trousers with haste, feeling his anger boil.

"It's not like that."

He scoffed, "It never is."

Tommy walked up to Eden, too irritated to care and pushed his overshirt off of her shoulders, leaving her exposed.

"Tommy!"

He grabbed her robe and tossed it at her, continuing to get ready to leave, knowing if he didn't he would say something he would regret.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" she tied up her robe quickly, becoming uncomfortable with his abrupt mood swings.

She understood why he was upset, but he didn't have the right to do what he did.

"Oh I don't know, perhaps it's the fact you questioned my friendship with Gretta, whilst knowin' full well that you spend your days off routinely meetin' up with your ex," he ranted, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Don't be like that, he's my friend and Dorris will be there."

"Doing what, swapping spit with Angel Changretta and what will you be doing? Having a catch-up with the other one?" he snapped, slipping on his shoes, and grabbing his waistcoat and shoulder holster.

Her face twisted up, "Luca won't be there, at least I think, besides he knows I'm with you."

Tommy strode past her, slipping his gun into the holster and reaching for the door, ignoring the hurt breaching her face.

"Like that matters to the likes of him," he retorted.

She blinked rapidly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Not sparing her a glance he grabbed the handle, "I'll meet you later."

"Tommy–"

"Bye Eden."

He left without so much as a kiss on the cheek.

She heard the front door slam shut and it's wonder that the whole street didn't wake up.

"Until we meet again Eden," she mocked and fell back onto her bed, "Fuckin' git."

–

"Porca miseria!" Enzo cursed and immediately received a smack to the back of his head from his mother. There were a lot of things Audrey Changretta would abide by, but using the lord's name in vain was not one of them. "Ma!"

"Lorenzo, what did I tell you," Eden tried helping Enzo, but one look from Audrey made her raise her hands, "next time I hear you use the lord's name in vain I'll drag you through the town by your ankles, you hear me?"

"Yeah."

"What did you say?" she asked, holding her hand to her ear, Dorris and Angel had to suppress their laughter.

"Yes mother," he gritted out.

"Watch your tone when you're speaking to our mother," Luca nudged him, leaning back in his chair as Audrey laid out more food for them just before she headed to work.

"Now, I'll be back at four, Luca keep your brothers in line and girls, make sure the house stays clean."

And with that, she took her bag and coat and left the house.

Audrey Changretta loved three things in life, her sons, her husband and their safety. She liked to know where they were just as a precaution, it wasn't too much to ask in her eyes, but clearly, it was to them. Luca made sure his brothers stayed in line, especially when their father was out on business and most of the time, he was.

"Honestly 'Renzo, do I need to wash that mouth out with soap?" Luca spat, with his American accent slipping slightly.

"You ain't my father."

"Jesus Christ," Angel muttered into his hands, tired of his brothers constantly fighting.

Luca scoffed, "Well he ain't here, so I am, stay in line."

Enzo leaned forward, "You know what —"

"How 'bout we go to your room?" Dorris interrupted.

"Yes, to avoid whatever this will turn into," Eden gestured between the brother's irked faces and stood up.

"You hate me that much Cara?"

Eden sighed at his question and ignored how effortlessly Luca's Italian accent rolled off his tongue.

"It's Eden Luca, Eden."

"I'm aware...Eden," he elongated her name, annoying her further, but what caught his eyes was the pendant dangling from her neck and a couple of purple blotches to go with it, "when did you become religious?" he jabbed his finger towards in, catching everyone's attention, "Last time I put the cross anywhere near you, you screamed."

"I remember that too," Angel laughed, "thought it burnt you or somethin'."

Enzo tutted, "No brother, you got it all wrong, she ain't religious, she got that as a gift from Shelby."

"For Christ's sake Enzo," Dorris shoved him and he received a pinch from the Dawkin's woman.

Angel turned to Luca, seeing the sneer on his face.

The two things the three brothers had in common were their hate for Small Heath and the Shelbys.

Luca hated Small Heath, he wasn't born there so he didn't care for it. New York is where he belonged and only came back to help out his family. Angel was different, cooking distracted him from his hatred, one day he hoped to open a restaurant, it wouldn't be long until he did, but until then he worked in one of the restaurants south of Digbeth. But with Enzo, he was born in Birmingham, he didn't have much of an accent compared to his brother's, but also wanted to get out of what he called 'the town worse than hell.'

And another reason why he and his brothers believed that Small Heath was worse than hell was all because of the Shelby family, not like their mother agreed with them.

Leaning over, Luca asked Eden, "So Shelby huh, that's still going on?"

He didn't know what he was more annoyed by, the love bites that she didn't bother to cover up or the pendant.

"None of your business," Eden moved closer to Enzo, "now let's go and eat."

"Come on Enzo," Dorris nudged the boy who took his time getting up, finding himself too comfortable sitting down.

Angel scoffed at how Dorris was trying to avoid him, "Dotty, amore, talk to me, you still can't be mad."

"I will because I am and I am because you haven't apologised for goin' to that whore's house," she referred to Lizzie Stark once more, still angered over the events that she saw taking place a couple of weeks ago.

"I helped her with her bags," Angel exclaimed, standing up.

Dorris tilted her head, "So if I let another man help me–"

"You wouldn't dare," he sent her a pointed look then picked up his glass of whiskey.

"You see Edie," Dorris stressed and argued with him.

Eden slowly regretted spending her day off at the Changretta's and Tommy was already mad at her for doing so and honestly, she didn't blame him.

"Thinkin' 'bout lover boy?" Luca taunted, his eyes hadn't left her for a second.

"She always is, now move on," Enzo thought it was pathetic how his eldest brother was behaving.

"Move on?" Luca turned to him with a coy smirk, "how 'bout you go and get a girl, you're around 'nough of 'em."

Enzo gritted his teeth but had nothing to say, which only amused his brothers more. Eden and Dorris turned to them in irritation.

Angel chuckled as a wolfish grin grew on his face, "That's true Enzy, I wonder if you're still a virgin, have to be with the lack of girls comin' round."

Dorris frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"And I'll have you know, he's been with plenty of girls, some with more grace than you Angel," Eden snapped back.

Luca cut in, with a devious smirk, "More grace than you with that black madonna 'round your neck, bet he painted it on or stole it."

Glaring at him, Edie gritted out, "What's your problem?"

Luca sauntered around the table and towered over her, his thick strands got in his eyes, but she didn't miss the rage swimming in them.

"You think Shelby knows you were with me first? Or did you fake it for him?"

"Stronso," Enzo yelled.

Eden was quick to push him away, "Fuck you."

Her patience went out the window and her anger was stinging her eyes.

Angel was starting to get annoyed by the whole ordeal, "Leave it alone Luca." He reached for Dorris' hand, seeing the way she wanted to charge at his older brother.

"Why? —" Luca lunged forward, accidentally knocking over a glass, smashing it across the floor, with some pieces launching around, and unfortunately hitting and piercing Eden's hand, "Merde."

She hissed in pain and everyone went to check the damage.

"Cara, I never meant to... are you okay?" Luca panicked, whilst his youngest brother pushed him away.

Eden gulped at the sight of her hand, parts of the glass dug into her skin, Dorris was helping her pull it out but she just continued to hiss in pain.

Tears pooled in Eden's eyes but she wouldn't let them fall, not in front of Luca.

"I'm just gonna go," she whispered, taking the cloth that Angel gave her to clean up some of the blood.

Enzo shook his head, "We can bandage it up, Angel, get the first aid kit, the fuck is a tea cloth gonna do?"

Eden waved them all off, "It's fine, I have my own at home okay? I'll be alright."

Dorris watched as she reached for her coat, "Edie the quicker we clean it, the less chance of an infection."

"I am a nurse Dotty," the small smile Eden sent was to reassure her friend there was no malice behind her words, "I'm fine, it's only a cut... or a couple. Give me a sandwich and I'll be on my way."

Enzo quickly grabbed her favourites from the table, then made a mental note to get Angel to make her favourite soup so he could bring it over.

"Are you sure, pretty girl like you bleeding and leaving our house? Not a good look," Angel stepped back at the glares he received.

Eden said for the last time, "I'm fine."

Luca stared at her longingly and disregarded his youngest brother's side-eye.

"Eden..."

She ignored Luca and pressed kisses to her best friend's cheeks as Enzo placed two sandwiches in her bag.

"Bye."

–

"Stevie right?" she ran into the man as she walked past to the Marquis of Lorne pub. She hated the bar because she could never get served even with Enzo by her side.

Catel Road was a place she and many other women avoided for their safety, despite it only being nine in the morning.

A cheeky grin spread on his face, "Surely you didn't forget my face after school?"

Eden thought he was a looker, even if he was covered in various fruit juices from the stool he ran. He was fair-coloured, quite stealthy and of average height.

"Of course not, what did you need?" he stopped her abruptly from making her way home and she didn't know why.

"The Shelbys are on their way," he informed, glancing behind him, causing her eyes to widen and grip the cloth wrapped around her hand.

"What?" she almost screeched, all the colour practically drained from her face when she saw their silhouettes approaching. What's Tommy gonna think when he sees my hand?

Stevie's face filled with worry when he caught her injury, "Is your hand okay –"

"Eden!" they jumped at Tommy's voice.

John yelled, "Edie girl..."

"Shut up John." they heard Tommy say.

"Thanks, Stevie, but you might need to go."

"You sure? I can handle them if you need me to," he recalled a conversation he had with Enzo they had a few days ago about him needing to protect his best friends, especially from trouble.

Eden winced at Shelby's loud voices and shook her head, "Don't take this the wrong way but they'll handle you, now go, I need you alive."

With one last nod and cheeky smile, he took his leave and left her to the herd of men coming her way.

"Fuck sake," Eden muttered.

"Who the bloody 'ell was that?" John was the first to reach her, nodding to the man she was talking to, but before she could respond, Tommy's crazed eyes landed on her hand as did his best friend Freddie and older brother Arthur.

Tommy roughly grabbed her hand, "What the fuck is that?"

"Have you been drinkin'?" the stench of booze almost took her out, she nearly choked on the aroma when they all neared closer, It was barely ten in the morning. When he squeezed her injury, she grunted and reeled back, "Christ's sake, that hurts."

She pulled away the cloth, only to see the damage, the pressure he'd applied made only made the blood trickle down her hand, fortunately, she took all the glass out of her hand but that didn't stop them from asking questions and making assumptions.

"How did it happen, who bloody cut you?" John pressed on, adjusting his cap and looking around at all the people who passed by. "Weren't the nutter you were speakin' to was it?"

"No one's cut me," she murmured, dismissing the insult spewing out of his mouth and confused yet not entirely surprised that they reached that conclusion.

"One of the men you love talkin' to?" Tommy no longer had a filter when he drank.

"Thomas..." Eden warned, but he didn't seem to care.

John's gaze darkened, "Look's like someone cut you, Edie."

Freddie rolled his eyes at the boy, "John."

He was the least intoxicated, only due to the amount of venting Tommy was doing when they were in the snug of the Garrison, for once he couldn't keep his mouth shut about his relationship troubles, Freddie wished he took the drinks out of his best friend's hand.

"What, there's a fuckin' gash on her hand, she needs those to work y'know?" John's protectiveness of Eden was evident, ever since school he was the one who constantly made sure she was alright.

"Think she's aware of that Johnny," Arthur spoke lowly, resting his hand on his shoulder, "you alright Eden?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Eden nodded, "I'm fine, it was a mishap."

"A mishap? We'll cut 'em a smile each..." John was blinded by his rage.

"...then it's off to the cut with the fuckers," Arthur was all for it.

"Tell me what happened," Tommy demanded, ignoring his brothers.

Eden took a step back, "It was nothing."

"Then tell me!" Tommy suddenly yelled, startling her.

"Don't scream at me!"

"I'm not screamin'!" he said... screaming.

Tommy had the type of rage that only took a match to light which was funny because smoking tended to keep it at bay.

Eden hated to look in his eye, it was like he saw her as an enemy, something needing to be eliminated, even John, in his drunken state could see and took a step forward.

"Tommy," Freddie and Arthur hushed him after seeing the look on Eden's face.

She looked scared.

Eden tried to explain, "He just... it was a glass and it dropped –" When his hands came in contact with her face she early flinched at the suddenness.

Tommy's eyes erratically darted over her face, demanding to know an answer.

"Who did that to you? I'll find out, you know I bloody will."

"It was an accident, alright."

"Who... was... it?"

"Luca —"

Tommy started to laugh, making her reel back. Freddie made sure his best friend was pulled back because the brothers wanted him to fight Luca Changretta for the fiftieth time and only needed the smallest reason.

"Luca fuckin' Changretta done that?" John screeched, spitting out his toothpick, coming to softly grab Eden's hand but she backed away.

Eden pinched the bridge of her nose out of frustration, "It wasn't on purpose, Christ, will you lot calm down?"

"Suppose he did that after you let him have another go?"

Tommy's question rendered them all shocked.

None of them was expecting him to speak to Eden like that, the woman who had his heart before she even looked his way. All that effort to get her, just to be thrown away in a matter of seconds. All that love he proclaimed for her, was washed away with half a dozen glasses of whiskey.

John turned to him in mild contempt, "Fuck sake, Tommy..."

"The fuck did you'd say?" she yelled, tears pooling in her eyes at the accusation. Twice, her virtue was brought into question, but this time it cut deeper than the blades stitched into their caps.

Eden was finally a victim of the blinder but his weapon of choice was words, which was typical for Tommy.

Arthur sighed, sobering up slightly, "Tom leave it."

Eden choked up, hating that she was induced to tears, "Fuck you."

"He's been drinkin' Edie," Freddie excused his behaviour, all while trying to calm down Tommy, but he was never too good at it, he tried his best, but it was Greta's job, but she was at home sick, had been for a few days leaving him to reign in the unstoppable force that was Tommy Shelby, "he's speakin' out of his bloody arse."

"You don't say," she snapped, rolling her teary eyes. "I don't care if he's drunk."

Tommy was truly like a horse, with a set of blinkers on, eyes narrowing onto Eden, not letting him see anything else, or even hear any reason.

He wanted to hurt Luca in ways he hadn't even thought of, but that would only provoke some sort of war.

He had to be smart about it, but the whiskey flooding his veins prevented that, so the only person he could take it out on was Eden...because in his mind he warned her about going to the Changretta residence.

"Bet you'd care what Changretta has to say ey?"

"Fuck you, Thomas."

Only this morning they were laying in silence, enjoying the breeze that cooled over their warm bare bodies and now... she didn't even know what the fuck he was.

"What 'ave you gone and said that for?" John shoved his brother, who shoved him back.

"Bye Thomas," Eden mumbled, ignoring Freddie's attempts at walking her home and just leaving the men to their madness, not wanting to be subjected to any type of abuse.

It was her bloody day off.

It's not like Tommy seem to care that she was in pain, physically or emotionally he just wanted some sort of reaction.

He claimed that she was his haven, but what was he? Her hell... she wouldn't be fucking surprised if he was.

"Tom, come on," Arthur stepped between his brothers, but it didn't help.

"Get the fuck off of me," Tommy pushed them all away, yelling as his woman was disappearing from his vision, "Eden!"

Sliding his hands down his face, Freddie muttered, "Well you're fucked."

Tommy glared at him, "Shut it, Freddie."

John scoffed, "Truly fucked it you did. Martha's gonna 'ave my fuckin' balls for this."

"As if she doesn't already, John boy," Arthur lit a cigarette, which John took off him.

"Well you just upset her friend," John sneered at his older brother, "mine an all or did you forget that?"

Ignoring his words, Tommy glared at the spot where Eden was previously standing.

"What are you gonna do?" Freddie questioned his best friend, wondering how he was going to get out of the grave he dug.

Tommy stared in silence, blocking out all the noise around him, it's all noise, the Changrettas were just noise, the whole fuckin' street was full of noise and he needed it silenced, all of it.

He didn't care when or how he was going to do it, just as long as Eden was still his and only his.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

al pacino as 𝗮 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝘂𝗰𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮

ken wahl as 𝗮 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮

vittorrio gassman as 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼

obviously, my man al pacino is smaller than luca but just imagine him to be taller.

tommy's jealousy is becoming a problem i can understand why he was mad that eden was spending time at the house where her ex lives, but he was out of line for the comments he made in the last scene. in canon you all know he's a possessive man, i had to tone it down for the story because it's pre-war tommy, but his true colours will peek through.

overall, how did you find this chapter and all the dynamics?

btw, I’ll post new chapters on this platform every week.

8 notes · View notes

artemiseamoon · 1 year

Text

Outshine the Sun 3

Frankie x Destiny | ft. Benny, the guys, ocs

Words: 3,268

Warnings: angst, past drug use, divorce

Since I’m completing these from my drafts, I’m making an exception and crossposting in full.

Chapter 3: facing the past

Fic info & previous chapters | next | A03

Three weeks later

Frankie weaves his way through the crowd and over to the VIP section. He flashes his pass to the guard and spots Benny on the balcony, waving him over. Fish makes his way to Benny and is received with a massive hug. Benny picks him up off the ground, then sets him back down.

"How long has it been man? Since the fight?"

"Feels longer," Frankie slaps him on the back, " sorry man, this last job was a pain in my ass. That cabrón had me running all over. "

"You missed the dinner party. It was all sweet and shit, you should have seen them."

Frankie nods. He feels really bad having missed that. Will and his lady got a place together and there's a little one in the oven. But Frankie was a state away tracking a target.

Friendship is not a part time thing, Fish.

It's something he says to himself when shit like this happens. Like that time, he almost missed Bennys fight because he was working. Frankie didn't like disappointing any of his friends, especially not Benny.

- Flashback -

In the cover of the dark street, Frankie waited in the car as he watched the house. His ass fell asleep an hour ago. But he's used to it, he's done enough of these by now and knows the drill.

It's dull and a shit ton of waiting. Minutes and hours ticking by until some action finally happens, if any happens at all. On the passenger seat is an empty cup, hamburger wrapper and his camera.

When his phone vibrates in his pocket, he already knows it's one of two people, Will or Santi. He gets his answer when he takes his phone out, it's on the dimmest setting to not cast extra light in the car.

Will: Fights starting soon.

Frankie: Working.

Will: I know. Benny keeps asking for you.

Frankie cursed under his breath and put the phone down. This was one of the important fights, it would determine if Ben made it to the next round, and if he goes up against the champ or not.

Will: Come when you can. He'll understand.

Frankie: Fuck it, I'm gonna speed this up. See you soon.

Frankie slipped his phone in his pocket, checked his glock, then lowered the cap on his head and grabbed his camera.

"Alright you motherfuckers." He gets out of the car and heads to the house.

- Flashback over -

The night of Will's party, Frankie did drive back as soon as he could. He didn't make it back until 2 in the morning. His friends were all understanding, even if they were a bit disappointed. And Will, in his usual cool demeanor told him not to worry about it.

Benny grabs Frankie's shoulders and shakes him, " it's cool man, really, let it go."

Frankie chuckles, "You know me well."

“Yeah, I do," he smiles and sighs, "glad you could come tonight."

“It’s way past my bedtime.,” Frankie jokes.

“It will be well worth it once you see your girl up there," he hands Frankie a beer, "Des has been killing it all night.” Benny points to the stage as she comes back out after her break. “Look at her.”

It's her second set now. Frankie missed the first due to a job. He's tired, it's been a long day, but it's worth it to stay up for this.

Destiny spots them and blows a kiss their way, followed by a bigger one for Frankie. She heads to Dj booth as the house music winds down to start her set.

...

Destiny's place is the closest so they all head there after the gig. Everyone is chilling in the living room, Mr. Butters is curled up in Bennys lap. Benny is falling asleep on the couch; his eyes are closed again.

“I think it’s bedtime.” she whispers.

Frankie turns to her and caresses her lower back, “Let's go to bed.”

Destiny gently wakes Benny before they leave and gives him a pillow and blankets. Frankie refills the dog's water bowl and shuts off all the lights.

In the bedroom, Destiny is already in bed when Frankie arrives. He settles in behind her and cuddles close under the sheets.

“Hmm I’m so much warmer now.” she pushes her butt into him.

“If you keep doing that Princessa, we won't be sleeping.” he pressed his lips to her ear.

“Is that a promise?” Destiny glances at him over her shoulder.

He can see a fire in her eyes through her sleepy expression. Once he learned she enjoys sleepy sex, it's been hard to hold himself back when the mood strikes.

Frankie slides his hand down the side of her body, “We’d have to be quiet.”

“That's easy enough,” she rolls onto her side to face him, Frankie pulls her into a kiss and slides his hand inside of her shirt.

…

One month later

“He’s happier to see you than me!” Destiny pretends to be hurt as Mr. Butters rushes over to them and jumps on Frankie.

“Ah, my little guy, come here.” Frankie picks him up and pets him. “He likes me better, he’s my dog now.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting disowned.” she closes the door behind them and rests her chin on Frankie's shoulder, “I'm heartbroken Mr. Butters.” she pouts at him.

The dog licks her hand, then rests his head on Frankie.

“Want some dinner?” Frankie asks before kissing her.

“Yes. I’m starving.”

“I’ll make something, go relax.”

She slides her fingers through his hair, “Yeah?”

“Si, Cariño.”

Destiny just got off an intense two weeks of shows, two big events at the record shop and a game. She hasn't had time to slow down and relax yet. Not that she complained, but Frankie could tell she's exhausted.

“Aww bebe, thank you,” she kisses him then takes Mr. Butters into her arms. “We are going to become one with the couch.”

Frankie watches them with a smile as they head down the hall. He locks the door and heads to the kitchen.

…

A week later

🎶 cheap and cheerful - the kills

Frankie has never been inside the local skate rink, though he’s driven past it plenty of times. Unsurprisingly, Destiny knows the owner and is currently chatting with them as the guys get their skates on.

“If I break my back, this is on you Ben.”

“You’ll be fine,” Benny pats his shoulder then spins around, he’s already wearing his skates.

Frankie’s eyes follow Destiny as she skates over to them. Music starts playing from the overhead speaker. She takes a seat beside Frankie and grabs his thigh.

“Nervous?” she asked with a smile.

“I can’t believe you two talked me into this.”

“We didn’t force you,” Benny chuckles and skates backwards toward the ring.

Destiny plants a quick kiss on Frankie's lips then rises to her feet, “He’s right you know, part of you wanted to try. Come on, we’ll protect you.”

Frankie laughs. Once he’s on his feet, Destiny hugs him from behind and rests her head against his back.

“I’ll give you a massage later.” She offers.

“Deal.” Frankie glances back at her “come on, watch me make a fool of myself.”

...

They’re only on the rink for about 15 minutes when Frankie throws in the towel. He doesn't take it too seriously and has fun with it, but it’s not his thing. He rather watch from the sidelines.

Frankie leaves them on the rink and makes it over to the seats without busting his ass. Put him on the battlefield, in a jet, or rough terrain and he can handle himself, his balance is solid. But this, this just isn’t for him, zero grace.

Benny and Destiny on the other hand, she’s clearly a pro at this and Benny is damn good himself after a wobbly start.

“What do you think Fish, dinner after? Some ice cream?” Benny shouts out to him.

“Sure,” Frankie shouts back.

There’s a lot of things he loves about spending time with Benny and Destiny. One of those is how much lighter he feels around them. So much of his life was serious. Frankie knows intensity, he knows struggle, he knows kill or be killed. Benny knows these things too. Still, Benny never lost his youthfulness, in a lot of ways, he's still a big kid and Frankie loves that about him, even when it’s annoying.

The playfulness is something Destiny has too. Being around them feels refreshing. Frankie almost feels like they’ve made him younger. He always feels a shift around Benny and now with Destiny in his life, he feels that even more so.

She has a serious side too, and one of the first times he saw it, it kind of took him by surprise. She gets withdrawn sometimes, quiet, but even then, she’s a good communicator about it and he never feels shut out.

Though it's only been two months, it feels like they’ve always been together longer, and Frankie hopes he doesn't fuck this up. Once they hit the one-month mark, his fears started to get to him. He started to worry if this was too good to be true, if he should end things before they turn south, or before Destiny got bored with him.

Frankie's thoughts get the best of him as he watches Destiny and Benny engage in a dance battle. Despite the funny scene before him, his thoughts are turning dark. He’s sure Destiny met lots of guys; he's even seen it with his own eyes that night he went to her show.

It makes him anxious, thinking about some guy stealing her away. Or even worse, Des changing her mind one day and wanting to be with Benny. They're so natural together, effortless.

Though Frankie made peace with their past early on, sometimes he wonders if they'd get back together, and where that would leave him. He's mad at himself whenever the thought surfaces.

Then he thinks about his past, his ex-wife specifically.

The main thing that killed his relationship was his demons and trauma. It was always easier for Frankie to be away on missions, even if it led to mounting PTSD. Coming back home was always harder because he didn't have any distractions. Aside from house projects, he didn't have much to keep him busy and his mind would work overtime.

Over the years, he picked up a nasty little habit to numb himself, and in that last year they were together, he tried to kick it. He went cold turkey, and it ended up making everything worse. Frankie's ex tried hard to get him to open up, to get him to talk to someone and deal with his demons and he only shut her out more and more with each attempt.

His demons were his business, that's how he saw it, and didn't want to talk to anyone about it, not even his wife. Sometimes, when he was really beating himself up, he could hear her voice in his head and see the look on her face when she served him the papers.

Some nights, when Destiny was asleep, Frankie would be plagued by muted visions and sounds of his past clawing to the surface. On those nights, he'd wonder if he's too fucked up for Destiny.

She's bright, vibrant; a rainbow.

Mi cielo.

And him? Frankies full of so much death, so much trauma - he's seen shit she couldn't even imagine. Maybe he should let Destiny go, even though it's the last thing he wants to do. Maybe he should give her up before she sees the parts of him that led to his divorce. The parts he's been working so hard on for the last few years.

Frankie is so lost in his thoughts he doesn't notice when Destiny skates over to him. She sits in the seat beside him and touches his face.

“Hey, you, okay?”

Her tone is soft, same as her eyes. He nods, not wanting to damper her mood with his thoughts.

“You’re lying.” She raises her brows and looks deeper into his eyes.

Frankie frowns and drops his gaze to the space between them.

“It’s nothing.”

Destiny lifts her hand from his face and sits back, the look in her eye makes it clear she doesn’t believe him.

“Frankie?”

“I'm fine, “he glances at the rink where Benny is skating slower, and watching them, he looks concerned too. “Have fun.”

Destiny breaks eye contact. For a moment it seems she wants to say something else but doesn’t. She gets up and goes back to skating.

…

By the time they arrived at the diner, the mood shifted dramatically. Frankie felt himself shut down, despite telling himself not to. Because of that, so did Destiny.

At the diner, Benny tried to keep the mood light, but ultimately gave up. What was supposed to be a fun afternoon was soured and when Benny decided to leave, Frankie understood why. He knew he'd have to call him tomorrow and try to sort all this out.

When they head back to Destiny's place, her dog excitedly greets them. Frankie heads to the living room with Mr. Butters and notices some time passes, and she still hasn't resurfaced yet.

Frankie heads to the master bedroom, and spots her sitting on the bed, a solemn expression on her face.

“Hey.”

“Maybe you shouldn't stay over tonight, Frankie.” she looks up at him.

He steps into the room.

“I ruined the day, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, “is this about what I think it is?”

Frankie nods, he crosses his arms as his body tenses.

“Frankie,” she groans. “We talked about this - “

“I know. My mind just got the best of me today.”

“Frankie” she stands up and goes over to him, “I asked you in the beginning, once we decided to do this, if my past with Benny was going to be an issue or not. You said no.”

He's quiet, still maintaining eye contact.

“We talked about this extensively. Sometimes all three of us.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what else you want me to do or say. I’m with you,” she points at him, “I want to be with you. I don’t know how else to reassure you,”

“You shouldn't have to,” he caresses the sides of her arms, “you’ve done nothing wrong Des.”

“Is there anything else you’re worried about? Anything else I need to know? I feel like there's more. You need to talk to me."

“It’s not just Benny. That's not - " he pauses, " - I worry you’ll meet someone else. Someone more like you, someone less - battle hardened.”

Destiny frowns and presses her palms against his chest. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I don't want to be with some artist or whatever it is you keep imagining I'll choose over you.”

“You're not bored with me yet?” he asked with those puppy dog eyes of his.

The question breaks her heart, “no, why say something like that? Baby," she slides her hands up to his shoulders,

She continues, "I like that after a long ass night of working I come home and you’re already in bed. I love crawling in and being a little spoon. I like our differences. You're this strong earthy force and me, I feel like a drum beat or something. With you, I'm away from all the noise of my daily life-"

"I like our nights in, our dinners. I like catching you in your reading glasses and us falling asleep on the couch. I like when we only leave the house to walk the dog or get groceries. I like that Mr. Butters loves you almost as much as he loves me. I love seeing your stuff in my bathroom and leaving mine in yours. I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm not bored Frankie."

Feeling a mix of joy and overwhelmed, Frankie hugs her. He feels like an idiot. He cradles the back of her head and closes his eyes.

“Lo siento,” he kisses the top of her head.

Destiny hugs him tighter and takes a deep breath in then out.

"Frankie, you've told me about your past, " she rubs his back. "I'm not scared of it. I won't shut you out or turn my back on you because of it."

Frankie blinks slowly, feeling tears in his own eyes. Silence falls between them for a moment.

Destiny leans back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Can we move past this? Realistically.? Or is this going to be the thing that -” she doesn't finish her thought.

Frankie keeps one arm around her and uses his other hand to touch her face.

“We can move past this. We will.”

“I need you to be sure you can. This isn’t the first few weeks where we were just hooking up.” she searches his eyes with her own, “I love you, Frankie."

“Te amo,” Frankie softly kisses her forehead, “I’m sure. I can do this. We’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” She rests her head against his chest.

The next day

Frankie doesn't have a case right now, so he has more time on his hands.

He let Destiny sleep in. After taking Mr. Butters for a walk, he grabbed pastries from her favorite cafe and made coffee.

When she woke up, she was pleasantly surprised. Frankie continued to pamper her through the day. They completely unplugged from everything. They cuddled on the couch and watched movies. Frankie also made lunch and planned a nice dinner for later.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Destiny was the most relaxed she's been in a long time. Work was fun but stressful and picking up on Frankie's gradual mood shift over the last few weeks was also taking its toll on her. So today was a gift, and exactly what the both of them needed.

She felt connected to him again and it made her heart full. They ate dinner and shared some laughs while talking about everything and nothing, she started to feel safe again, like maybe they could make it past this hurdle. Their conversation from earlier also revealed this whole thing isn't really about her and Bennys past.

Frankie is worried he's not good enough. He's worried she'll get bored, and the ghost of his broken marriage and his heavy past is only making his fears worse. She admits, her and Benny still have amazing chemistry, and she'll always have immense love for him. In another life, maybe they would still be together.

But that's not the reality now, now she's with Frankie, happily. Frankie could call himself boring all he wanted, but she never saw him that way. And she hopes he can see what she sees, and that they'll make it past this.

...

“We need more fancy date nights; I like seeing you dressed up.” She reaches for his hand across the table, he gladly gives it to her. “You look so handsome.”

“I clean up well, when I'm not walking around like a mechanic.”

“I love your style; you look like you can fix my furniture and my car. I'm into it. It’s really fucking hot.”

Frankie chuckles, “good, because you’re stuck with me."

“You're stuck with me too.”

Frankie turns her hand over and kisses the inside of her palm, “mi amor,” he purrs against her wrist. His brown eyes full of adoration, “I’m a lucky man.”

“Mi amor, I'll melt every time I hear it.”

Frankie brings his chair closer to hers, “come here.” he cups the side of her face and kisses her.

Next (finale)

Masterlist

Updates - @artemiseamoon-updates

#Frankie Morales #Benny miller #besties fishben #frankie x ofc #fic: outshine the sun #Frankie /Benny /Destiny bestieverse

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timmyballgame · 1 year

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I wrote this 3 years ago today, its a time capsule of the way we were, how far we have come and also sadly how far apart we remain.

"Last night I was supposed to be sitting in my seats watching Titos Indians playing Alex's Red Sox . . . well that was the plan when I signed my season ticket renewal in November 2019 . . . hasn't worked out that way for me or the world.

Instead I walked around Fenway last night at the time I usually arrive, a salmon trying to return home on a dry stream, Fenway has been stripped of banners, the doors shuttered, the back wall behind the bleachers torn down in a halted construction project for the next Henry Warner Group project a 10k people Event Hall to be in competition with the neighboring House of Blues. . . will either ever open again?

Smaller businesses along Lansdowne Street have already closed, not to return, one a favorite of mine Baseballism falls into the category.

I wore a mask, I wore gloves, I touched nothing but my camera, I spoke to no one, not even the one Fenway security guard who was walking his lonely rounds outside America's Most Beloved Ballpark, I wanted to talk with him, I know him, wanted to ask him how he was, how his family was doing, we did the new instinct of crossing away from each other and head nodded, he had fear in his eyes, I suspect so did eye, everyone has fear in their eyes these days .

This was my first scheduled to work day off since this all started. I drove into Boston not Andover when the news came I did not have to work. It wasn't for this trip to Fenway, it was to support a friend's restaurant in the North End with a take out order back to NH. But for me when in Boston all roads lead to Fenway . Driving in Boston without traffic is foreign to me. You discover how small the city really is when it's 10 minutes from Fenway to the North End. Seeing the Boston Marathon finish line three days away from Patriots day not painted and the clock bridging Boylston St surreal. So is no line at Mike's Pastry where in winter snow storms or August heat the line stretches down the sidewalk .

Somewhere a scientist is working on a vaccine, some are even in trials already, someday there will be a cure and as such using a well used phase in Red Sox history that makes this another day closer to the parade!"

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ritualoftheancients · 4 months

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Ritual of the Ancients Chapter 6: Blood Memories

by Roan Rosser

This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here.

~~~~~

I rode in the passenger seat of a car as a rainy evening flashed by the windows. I didn’t recognize the driver or the streets. It wasn’t Portland, that much I was sure of, since the look of the trees were unfamiliar to me. The woman in the driver’s seat wore a blue suit that emphasized the red of her hair, which was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. She flashed me a smile and opened her mouth to talk, when the crackly squawk of a radio cut her off.

“10-13, 10-13. Active shooter at the Petunia Apartments. Subject is a white male. Armed with a handgun. Multiple shots fired.”

I reached out to pick up the handset, only my skin was a warm brown color, much different than my cooler pale skin, and hairier. The kind of hair that I hoped to grow on T. I wanted to stop and examine it, but the dream pulled me along. This was nothing like my usual dreams. Everything felt so grounded and real, more like a vivid memory than anything else.

“Officers Prashad and Kelly responding,” I heard myself say into the handset.

Prashad? Who was that? While I struggled to make sense of what was going on, Officer Kelly—now that I looked closer I confirmed that the blue suit was, in fact, a police officer’s uniform complete with name badge—turned on the car and sirens. It wasn’t a long drive. They talked some, but I was too disoriented to catch much beyond that Officer Kelly’s first name was Andre.

We pulled up to a cluster of police cars with flashing lights parked in front a two-story apartment building—the kind with open-air walkways that looked out over the parking lot. I parked near the rest and got out of the car, drawing my gun. A growing knot of dread was forming in my gut. I strained to stop myself from getting out of the car, but I had no control of my body in the dream.

I caught sight of my face in the side view mirror as I got out, and was shocked to recognize it as Jack’s. Straining to stop myself, I drew my gun, crouch-walking across the pavement with the gun pointed at the ground to join Andre, along with a six other cops crouched behind the stairwell.

A Sargent was in the middle of a debrief of the situation. He nodded curtly to Kelly and me as we arrived, but didn’t interrupt his speech.

“The suspect has barricaded himself in one of the second-floor apartments with two hostages: his kid and ex-wife. We don’t know if they are still alive. You two,” he bobbed his head toward us, “head around the back and keep watch, make sure he doesn’t find another way out.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. We took off at a jog, guns held low, heading around the corner. The side of the building was in shadow, but enough light came from the corner streetlight that we didn’t need our flashlights. Neat squares of light shone into the alley behind the building from the apartments.

Andre rounded the corner first. There was the short crack of a gunshot and he fell back into view, his face covered in blood that poured from a jagged hole in his forehead. I screamed and lunged to catch him before he hit the ground. Andre’s brown eyes were wide in death and stared up past my face vacantly.

Footsteps thudded on pavement, and I looked up to see a man with a gun running away from us down the alley behind the apartments. I let Andre’s body fall and brought up my gun, blinking back tears. The man glanced over his shoulder. He pointed his gun back and fired off several rounds in a series of sharp cracks. One hit my body armor in the center, and the impact was enough to knock the breath out of me. The second shot went wide, pinging off the bricks next to my head. Shrapnel hit my cheeks and nose, drawing blood. I shot, but missed. My shot hit the bricks a few inches behind the running figure.

The man got off one more shot, and this one hit me in the lower neck, just missing the edge of the body armor. My world filled with pain. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a burble of blood. The taste of copper filled my mouth.

Someone pressed a thick cloth against my neck. I didn’t even know how I’d ended up lying on the pavement. Confused shouting echoed around me, but I couldn’t focus past the pain.

“You go after that bastard, I got this one!” a man yelled practically in my ear. Lower, the speaker said, “Hold on, Jack.”

I tried to respond, and blood burbled out of my lips rather than words. I tried to catch a glimpse of the man hovering over me, but my eyes refused to focus. The man was a dark halo framed by the light from the streetlamps.

“No, don’t speak. Hold on.” The pressure on my neck increased.

The world shrank and went white. My muscles began spasming and contracting, my fingers and toes curling in on themselves, tighter and tighter. I wanted to scream, but my mouth felt odd and I had no control.

Then it was gone. I opened my eyes and sat up. Everything felt oversized, and I was wrapped in a constricting swaddle of fabric. I shook myself loose from it and stood up an all fours. Blinking, I saw my front legs that were now covered in brown and black fur and ended in paws. I looked down the length of myself to see more fur and a dog-like body that ended in a tail. I knew I should be freaking out, but it felt natural. Right.

The cop who’d been tending my wound screamed, backing away from me with wide eyes.

***

I woke up with a gasp to someone shaking my shoulder. The dream world overlapped with the real world for a moment as I looked up at Jack leaning over me. Seeing me open my eyes, Jack straightened up.

“Sun’s set, it’s safe for you to get up now. I dug up some of the supplies we keep for visiting vampires.” Jack held up a red squeeze bottle and shook it. “Sorry I couldn’t get this for you last night. It took me a while to deal with Stacy, and then, since you aren’t officially here as a vampire, I had to come up with an excuse to get into the blood stock.”

I sat up, and as I did so I realized that I still had the amulet clutched in one hand. I squeezed my fist around it, hoping Jack hadn’t spotted it. The movement made my breasts rub the blanket. I flushed, pulling the blanket up with one hand, crossing both arms across my chest and hunching my shoulders. My binder and jacket were folded over my shoes under the bed; I’d taken them off last night before laying down.

“So that’s my breakfast?” I went to point, realized that to do that I’d have to drop the blanket, instead nodding my head at the bottle in Jack’s hand.

“Yeah, I warmed it up for you, but I know from my coworker’s complaints when he has to drink this stuff that it’s not as good as fresh.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

Jack sat down on the cot across from me and went to hand it to me, but hesitated, glancing at my arms and hunched shoulders. He changed his movement and set the bottle on the rickety side table instead.

“Thanks.”

Jack stood and paused. “What’s that?” His eyes fixed on my hand.

I tried to cover my wince and glanced down. The amulet wasn’t that big, but I had small hands, and part of it was visible between my fingers. The gold must have glinted in the overhead lights and drawn Jack’s attention.

“Nothing. A good luck charm.” Jack looked intrigued. I needed to change the subject before he could ask anything else. “Who’s Andre?” I blurted in a panic, saying the first thing that came to mind.

The blood drained from Jack’s face and his eyes went white at the edges. His voice came out in a whisper. “Why do you ask?”

I got the distinct feeling I’d messed up big time. I gulped. What could I say? That I’d heard it in a dream that felt too real? No, I’d sound crazy. “I just heard it around. Maybe Dave said it?”

Jack’s expression went hard and he crossed his arms. “Don’t lie to me, Everett. Where. Did. You. Hear. That. Name?”

“It’s going to sound crazy…” I sputtered, but Jack just kept glaring at me. I hugged my arms tighter to my chest and bowed my head so I wouldn’t have to see Jack’s face. “I had a dream—well, it felt more real than that. More like reliving a memory that you and Andre were shot, and then you turned into a jackal.”

There was a heavy thud. I glanced back up to see that Jack had fallen heavily onto other cot. His face had gone even paler.

“That wasn’t a dream, Everett.” Jack wiped at his face and I realized he was crying, had begun crying silently at some point. “I don’t know how you saw that, but that was my last night as an officer, and my first night as a shapeshifter.”

“What?” I looked up and sat forward, leaning towards Jack. “But you weren’t bitten.”

“Shapeshifters are born, not made. But…” Jack held up one hand, wiping his face again with the other. “I can’t—” His voice cracked and he gulped. “I can’t talk about this right now. I’ll give you the whole supernatural rundown later, okay?”

I sat back and nodded. I wanted to comfort Jack, but I didn’t know what to say. I settled for saying, “I’m sorry to bring up painful memories like that. I thought it was just a dream.”

“Not your fault.” Jack stood, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “Meet me back in the waiting room after you finish your breakfast.”

After Jack left, I picked up the still-warm red bottle. I squeezed a drop onto my tongue and gagged at the taste. It was nothing like the delicious liquid that had come from Jack and the other man. I choked down another swallow, wondering if it was the anti-coagulant that they added that made it taste like ass. Though I had to admit, it slaked my thirst much better than the Gatorade had, and as a bonus settled my rumbling stomach.

Once the bottle was empty, I set it on the nightstand and finished getting dressed. I wiggled into my binder and adjusted it until everything was flat and settled, then pulled the T-shirt that Jack had brought me over it. I decided to just keep the jacket over my arm. Not only was the jacket bloodstained, I hadn’t felt the weather since I’d become a vampire. After making sure the amulet was tucked securely in the pocket of my jeans, I went out to greet the night.

The hallway was empty. I tried the door at the end of the hall, but it was locked, so I exited back into the waiting room. The smell of fresh coffee hit me as I entered. It smelled as good as it always had, which I was thankful for. Now that my diet was primarily blood, I wondered what things I used to love that I’d no longer like. This room was empty too, so I decided to help myself to a cup to wash out the taste of the gross stored blood.

I usually drowned my coffee in half-and-half—my former best friend Brooke had used to joke that I drank coffee-flavored milk—but this time I took a sip of it first; no reason to risk making myself sick. Besides, my taste buds had been strange since I’d become a vampire; the coffee wasn’t as bitter as I remembered. In fact, I almost enjoyed it. That lukewarm blood would have tasted much better if mixed with coffee. I’d have to try that next time.

Sipping from my cup of black coffee, I left the lobby and went through the swinging doors to the reception desk. Dave sat behind the desk, talking to someone on his headset. Jack stood on this side of the counter, doing something on his phone. He waved me over.

“What’s the plan tonight?” I asked as I joined him. Jack looked much better; only a slight redness around his eyes betrayed his earlier tears. I wanted to say more, but not in front of Dave.

Dave glanced up at hearing me and grimaced but didn’t stop his conversation with the person on the phone.

“I’m waiting to find out.” Jack sighed and put his phone away.

“Did you hear anything yet, about…” I trailed off, glancing at Dave. I wasn’t sure how much Jack trusted him, since he’d wanted to lie about me being a vampire.

Jack nodded his head toward the waiting room, and we headed that way together. As we went through the swinging door, a muscular, brown-haired woman entered from the other direction carrying a file folder.

“Oh, hey Jack,” she said with a wave.

“Hi, Zoe.” Jack smiled at her.

“Who’s this?” Zoe stopped in front of us and held out a hand to me. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Zoe.”

“I’m Everett.” I smiled at her as I shook her hand with the hand not holding the coffee cup. As I leaned close to her, I caught a musky scent that I associated with dogs.

“Zoe is a werewolf,” Jack said to me. He then turned to Zoe and nodded to the file. “Catch a case this early in the night?”

“Naw, just checking up on the fox you brought in yesterday. She just told me a very interesting story about you having a fanged, red-eyed boy in the car with you. I assume that would be Everett here?”

Jack sighed. “Yeah.”

“Yet you told Stacy he was a werewolf, not a vampire.” Zoe crossed her arms and regarded Jack. Although she didn’t look angry, merely amused.

“It’s a long story, for another night,” Jack said with a blush, and steered us towards the couch.

“I’ll hold you to that, Jack.” Zoe poured herself a cup of coffee. Over her shoulder she said, “Over drinks. Your treat.”

“Of course.” Jack waved at her as she left with her coffee. We sat on the couch together.

“We can talk freer now,” Jack said in a low voice. “Normally Dave could hear us in here, but not while he’s on the phone.”

I nodded my understanding and sat down next to him, twisting my body to the side and pulling one knee up. “Shapeshifter?” I guessed. I took a sip of coffee.

“No, but…” Jack shrugged. “Everyone who works here is a supernatural of some sort, though. Dave’s a mage. He likes to eavesdrop with listening spells. He’s a bit of a gossip.”

I hid my grin with my coffee cup and took another sip. People were people, supernatural or no. “So what are we waiting for?”

“Since I’m not officially part of the police department anymore, I can’t make an official request.” He nodded his head toward the reception room. “However, PCA has some contacts in the station that we can use to get information about supernaturals that are in trouble with human law. You heard me on the phone last night, asking them to put out feelers on your case.”

I nodded, then frowned. “But you were an officer. Can’t you ask one of your cop buddies for info?”

“No.” Jack sighed. “Officially, I died that night you saw in your dream. If my first change had happened somewhere less…” He paused, eyes flicking about as he searched for a word. “Public, with fewer witnesses, yes, I could have gone back to work the next day like nothing had happened.”

I felt like a peeping tom, despite the fact that I’d had no control over the dream. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It certainly wasn’t your fault. I didn’t know vampires could pick up memories from the blood, or I would have warned you. Anyway, Dave emailed me that he got back answers, but said he’d only tell me in person. Like I said, he loves gossip and drama. So, we wait.”

“What if we get called out on a job again tonight?” I said, and Jack shot me an amused look. “I mean you,” I hastily amended, face heating up. I took a sip of coffee to cover my blush.

“No worries, I took today off as a personal day. No calls. Today I’m one-hundred percent committed to helping you get to the bottom of your mystery.”

We had been speaking in low tones already, but I lowered my voice to a whisper so that Jack had to lean closer to hear me. “Why don’t you want them to know I’m a vampire?”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me, but that isn’t the whole truth, is it?” I caught Jack’s gaze and held it.

Jack frowned and sat back against the couch, leaning his head back and running both hands through his hair, and then down his face. He leaned forward again and clasped his hands on his knees, talking without looking at me.

“I don’t know, just, I’m new. That incident you saw only happened a year ago. But the vampires put me on edge, they don’t tell me everything.” Jack’s frown deepened. “And if your death is connected to anything nefarious, I want to make sure you’re safe.” Jack blushed at those last words.

The sudden rush of blood drew my attention to a pulsing vein on Jack’s neck. I felt my fangs descend and press against my lips, so I sipped at my coffee until they withdrew back into wherever they came from. I wondered if my eyes betrayed me too. Hadn’t Emily said they scared her? I really needed to find a mirror one of these times and see what I looked like with fangs out.

Dave popped his head through the swinging door. “I’m off the phone, Jack.” He disappeared again.

Jack levered himself up and then offered me a hand. “Let’s go get some answers.”

#trans author #original fiction #trans masc #urban fantasy #ftm #transgender fiction #vampire novel

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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: every night, jungkook puts on the red mask and flings himself confidently into perilous danger; but that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit seems to fail him whenever it comes to you

⟶ warnings: coarse language, mild violence, jungkook is really shy and cute and dumb bc he’s so smitten, also jungkook’s butt in spandex is nice, needy/clingy sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), face riding, fingering, riding, missionary, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of a fic i had on my old blog!

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

When the sun has set below the distant horizon and plunges the world into a formidable darkness, driving most ordinary civilians to seek shelter in their homes, he stumbles into the café tucked cozily on the corner of a busy street in Lower Manhattan. The concrete city is still very much alive in a harmonious mix of sirens and the hum of cars but is subdued, muffling under the night sky and is most susceptible at this time to misconduct. Usually, at this point of night, the café you work at is nearly empty, save for a few stragglers that huddle tiredly at certain round tables. Most times, these are students from the university you attend just around the bend, whose weary eyes peer over the laptop in front of them as they meticulously work on an essay due the next morning, only fueled by the cup of coffee next to them.

Though you’ve seen Jungkook plenty of times around the campus of your school, he never once enters the café for the sole purpose of late night studying or writing. Instead, as you come to find over the course of many strange nights, Jungkook stumbles in through the doors sometime after 9 p.m., always with one strap of his backpack thrown over his shoulder. He always looks dishevelled, exhausted, as if he has spent the evening running all over the city of New York; and then he plops himself down into a seat by the window, burying his head in his folded arms that lean on the top of the table. Most times he orders a coffee and though he downs it the fastest you’ve ever seen, he is still somehow able to fall asleep at the table. Sometimes, he hardly ever touches the coffee and lets it grow cold as it rests next to him but he always, without a doubt, falls asleep next to it.

You never wake him. Usually, when you work the late night shifts, you are alone for a handful of hours until your next coworker arrives for their shift. You don’t mind the company anyway, even if he sleeps for most of the night. It’s comforting to at least see he’s resting, though you find yourself snickering to yourself as you watch the snoring boy when it’s just you and him alone in the café. Though you have grown up with Jungkook as your next door neighbour as a child, have attended the same schools and been in most classes together from elementary all the way to your freshman year of college now, and have watched one another mature and change, you have never really exactly gotten to know Jungkook as well as you’d like. Typically, your conversations are short and friendly, ranging from you taking his order at the café and spotting him around campus and asking if he knew the answer to a question for the homework assigned to the class you share with him.

This night isn’t any different.

You’ve become eager, always anticipating when Jungkook will walk through the doors of the café and make himself at home as he routinely does. However, just before 9 p.m. on a Thursday night, when the small bell above the door rings to signal a new arrival, you are immediately disappointed to find that it is not Jungkook. Instead, it is a crude muscular man not much older than you with tattoos that litter his arms and a star inked into the left side of his neck. The sight of him causes you to groan inwardly, forces you to straighten your back a little more, hold your chin a little higher. Most nights the café may be occupied by university students, but other nights you are forced to deal with tasteless strangers that try to intimidate you but instead give you an agonising headache.

You have seen this man before, have remembered the star tattoo and the scar just above his right eyebrow. He has come into the café before and has been the source of trouble more often than not. As the man approaches the counter in an imperious stride this time, you notice the smirk that tugs at his lips and feel the foreboding shudder that runs down your spine.

“Evenin’,” You greet. “Can I get you anything?”

The man’s eyes flicker to the menu above the counter, as if he is pondering what to order. He looks back down at you and then leans against the counter, closing the distance between him and you causing you to take a step back.

“How are you doing tonight, sweetheart?” he asks. “Been awhile, huh? Did you miss me?”

Forcing a fixed smile on your face, you reply shortly with, “I’ve been well. Can I get you anything?”

Apparently, the way you repeat your question in a firm manner doesn’t act as well of a hint as you had hoped for the man. He’s smirking wickedly, clearly enjoying the strain he puts you through.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart,” he drawls. “When do you get off? Maybe we can meet round back and I can show you what a real man is like.”

“No thanks.”

“Playing hard to get, hm?” he muses. “I wonder what else that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

Though you are appalled, you swallow your nerves and narrow your eyes into a glare. It can tell you to kindly fuck off, you grimace to yourself. Instead, you turn your back to him, pretending to occupy yourself with cleaning the counter as you mumble blankly, “Not interested.”

The man chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s just a little fun━”

“She said she’s not interested.”

The familiar voice that interrupts the man causes your heart to leap blithely in your chest and makes you realize you have been so caught up with the man by the counter that you hardly noticed the way the bell rings a second time as the newcomer enters the shop. Standing just behind the man is Jungkook, whose carob hair sticks out in messy tufts and weary eyes are laced with an underlying menace. The man looks from you to Jungkook and must assume the confrontation isn’t worth a fight. The smug smile remains on his face even as he shrugs, muttering something along the lines of, “Whatever, man. I was just trying to have some fun.”

Whether or not Jungkook has scared him away, the man relents and retreats to the door of the café, disappearing outside once more. As soon as the door shuts behind him, you come to realize that you are now alone in the café with Jungkook with nothing but the sound of the flat screen t.v that hangs in a corner behind the counter, faintly playing on the news channel.

“You okay?” he asks, catching your attention. “He didn’t do anything, did he?”

“Oh, no. No, I’m fine,” You say. “Thanks for that, by the way. Though I could’ve handled it myself.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t doubt that but it’s nice to get a little help sometimes.”

You smile up at the boy who towers above you and, despite the fatigue that droops his eyes, his pink lips still unfurl into a wide, radiant grin that brightens his face.

“How long are you here for tonight?” he asks.

“Till close. Then I have to head home and put together a powerpoint for psych,” You yawn as if to emphasize your boredom. “What can I get you? The usual?”

Jungkook looks at you as if you are his saving grace. The smile stretches further across his cheeks as he nods. “Please?”

“Will do. Sit tight, I’ll be right over.”

You spin around from behind the counter, almost immediately jumping to work as you rummage through the shelves. When you’re finished making his order that consists solely of a medium black coffee with two sugars and turn back around to face him, you find him seated at a table off to the side, not far from the counter. His backpack lays discarded on the ground by his feet and his elbow rests on top of the surface of the table, his chin nestled in the palm of his hand; his eyes are fixated on the television screen hanging just ahead and, for once upon entering the café past dusk, he doesn’t lack a sense of emotion. Instead, his brows knit in concern as he is engrossed by whatever is happening on the news.

As you approach his table with his coffee in your hand, you crane your neck to look up at the screen and what has seemingly caught his interest. On one side of the screen is a female news reporter in a pink blouse and gray blazer; on the second half of the screen, you see a familiar flash of striking red and blue that swings from building to building from an, albeit, shaky recording from a passerby’s phone.

“And in other news,” The woman who speaks has a strong, smooth voice as she stares ahead at the camera with a rather sour look, “the masked mystery man, otherwise known as Spider-Man, was spotted earlier this morning when he put a stop to a robbery in an apartment in Queens just before noon. Though most would argue that Spider-Man is New York’s very own masked hero, the New York City Police Department are still searching for the identity of whom they call a vigilante, saying he is causing mayhem in━”

“Some guy, huh?” You muse pensively, sliding the coffee onto the counter next to Jungkook. “This spider guy or whatever.”

The boy in front of you glances down meekly at the coffee and back up at you. His eyes flicker to the screen hanging in the corner once more. “You mean Spider-Man?”

Nodding, you say, “Yeah. He comes out of nowhere two years ago and now he’s everywhere. What do you think of him helping with all this dangerous crime stuff?”

“Ah, well, that’s his thing,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “If he couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t be helping solve a lot of the city’s crimes. I think he’s pretty cool, y’know, for a masked guy. I definitely don’t think he’s a vigilante or━ or a criminal.”

“You talk about him as if you know him,” You giggle.

Jungkook’s eyes widen for a split second and then he’s furiously shaking his head. “Know him? No, no, of course not! I’m just a… Just a big fan ━ and an even bigger fan of Iron Man.”

He picks up the coffee next to him and lifts it to his mouth for a quick sip, nearly burning his tongue but swallowing his curses.

“I like him,” You confess at long last. “He’s interesting. I think he’s just what we need at a time like this.”

Just then, the bell above the door rings once more and a small group of friends wander into the shop, each carrying backpacks and heavy textbooks. They sit at a table off in the corner and you sigh as you look back down at Jungkook.

“That’s my cue,” You say. “Gotta go, but have a good night, okay? And, Jungkook? You really should get some more sleep.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond but you are already turning away and so he sits back in his seat, defeated once more. He watches as you stride happily to the group of friends sitting at a table to take their order, your hair bouncing slightly under the fluorescent lights. He folds his arms over the top of his table and buries his head in them, though he sneaks one last glance up at you. Despite his eyes itching with sleep, he pries them open just a second longer to watch you smile as you speak with the students and it is the last thing he sees before he slips off into a light and contented sleep.

As you step out into the cool, early Autumn night and shut the door of the café behind you to lock it, the single thought most prominent in your mind is sleep.

You’re exhausted, but the homework still waiting to be completed in your home is the only thing that pushes you to stay awake. You hurry to fish the store keys out of your coat pocket and, with a euphonious chime, use them to lock the front door, ignoring the way the cold breeze nips at your cheeks. You grasp the collar of your coat tighter around your body and then hike the strap of your own bag further up your shoulder as you turn to walk away.

Jungkook had fallen asleep as per usual after your short conversation with him and then vanished an hour some time before you closed, waving a final farewell to you. The rest of your night had been rather slow, with only two more customers entering the café until each person left to venture back out into the cold and leave you alone. To finally be freed from the confinements of the café has you breathing in the crisp air in a deep breath. Exhaling placidly, you cross the street and begin making your way toward your one bedroom apartment which is only a fifteen minute walk away from both the café and your school.

You aren’t quite sure how long you have been walking for when you begin to notice the sound of footsteps behind you. In fact, if you had been listening more intently since the second you left the café, you would be able to recall the fact that these same heavy footsteps had been following along behind you since then. You don’t necessarily see the problem at hand just yet, thinking it to be just another innocent passerby who is coincidentally walking the same way as you. After all, New York City has a tremendously huge population.

You take a left, turning the corner of the street to continue along the path to your home. The only light that illuminates the way are the silvery wisps from the moon that hangs high in the night sky and the flickering street lamps that you pass occasionally. You take another left and strain your ears and hear the sound of footsteps again. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was just a random passerby, but most cities weren’t foreign to that of strange stalkers. Holding your breath, you slowly glance over your shoulder at the figure who has been following you and spot a man just a few paces away, the hood of his sweater drawn over his head.

You immediately turn back around, eyes wide as panic begins to settle in. You take another left, then a right, cross the street and retrace your steps back towards the café and each time you hear the heavy footsteps; each time they quicken in pace as does yours. You hadn’t even realized how briskly you were walking until you glance over your shoulder for a second time and see the man once more. Suddenly, you turn a sharp corner and race ahead before coming across an empty and darkened alleyway. You slip into its shadows, your heart hammering wildly against your chest and in your ears, and continue to walk until the brick wall at the very end of the alleyway comes into view. A dead end.

You turn back around and begin walking forward before freezing suddenly. If you go back out there, that man could still be lurking; if you stay in the alleyway, you could hide until you think it’s safe. Your eyes flicker around for something to cower behind and just before you notice the dumpster off to the side, you see a shadow in the corner of your eye. Turning around, you come face-to-face with the hooded man who is all but blocking your path to freedom. Except now, you’re able to stare into his face past the silhouette that his hood draws on his features. Now, you can see the star tattoo on his neck, the scar above his right eyebrow and an image of the man from the café only hours ago flashes across your eyes.

“You,” You gasp. “What do you want from me?”

Behind his hood, you can see him smirk slyly. “I just want to chat to you, babe. What are you doing all by yourself out here?”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You step forward to walk around him but he grabs onto you, his arm snaking around your waist as he drawls, “Not so fast. I’ve been meaning to get you alone like this.”

Just as you open your mouth to shout out for help, the noise of sudden scuffling in the alley causes the man to stop. It comes with the rustling of the wind and could have easily been mistaken for the sound of a trash can falling over or paper tumbling loosely but it is also unmistakable the sound of footsteps. The man must notice something before you do as he squints further into the alleyway, muttering a small, “What the hell━”

“Come on, dude, that’s seriously no way to treat a girl!”

The foreign voice that drifts into the alleyway seems to startle not only yourself, but the man in front of you. His grip loosens on you slightly as he cranes his neck to look amongst the shadows.

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

The stranger’s voice is youthful, most likely belonging to a boy around your age. It is oddly calm and nonchalant despite the situation that is unfolding before him, and then he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. As your eyes flicker open, you follow the source of the sound towards the blocked end of the alleyway still veiled by the darkness. Had this person always been there or had they really materialized out of thin air?

“Who’s there?” The man in front of you grunts. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“And why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” The voice retaliates. He pauses as if he is waiting for an answer and then he is speaking up again. “Let me guess. You’re gonna tell me to screw off or something right? God, you guys are always so predictable and yet you never make it any easier for me.”

The man scowls, his hand drops from your throat as he turns to the looming darkness and hisses gruffly, “Mind your own business, punk━”

Before he can carry on, something flings out of the darkness and lands on the man’s face in a blink of an eye. He immediately lets go of you, grunting in confusion and flailing his arms about. As you drop to the ground, you subsequently bang your head hard against the brick wall and groan in pain, though you’re able to catch a glimpse of what the man is trying so desperately to claw off his face before your vision goes blurry. It is something thin and wispy, made of silver glistening strands that resembles, oddly enough, a spider’s web. As the man fumbles into the darkness, arms swinging clenched fists wildly about.

“Over here!” The boy taunts. “Missed me again! You know, you’re not very good at this.”

You struggle to climb to your feet, clutching your head in agony as you squint into the darkness. From where you are, you can only see the man fumbling around uselessly, the other figure still concealed by the darkness. As you attempt to get a better look, you hear the boy grunt in pain and catch sight of the man just after he had swung his fist into this person’s face, while his other hand had successfully been able to finally rip the mesh off his face.

“Okay, ow, that hurt,” The boy admits.

But before he or the man can continue on, you’re springing forward, mustering all your strength and courage into one impromptu movement. You grab your bag that had been discarded on the ground, heavy with a few school textbooks you had brought with you; you clutch it tightly, race up behind the man, and swing it hard at his head. His actions come to a sudden halt, he staggers forward, and immediately collapses to the ground, unconscious. Then finally, plunged into the darkness of the alleyway, you slowly look up to face the eye of your helper and are met, instead, with a flash of red and blue.

Standing before you, adorned head to toe in a tight suit is none other than the mysterious masked vigilante. He’s much taller in person than you expected, and much more muscular too, though with his face hidden beyond a mask, you can’t say much else about him. Instead, you gasp as you stare up at him in astonishment.

“Hey, nice hit!” he says, an apparent grin in his voice. “That was pretty awesome━”

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

“Me?” He seems confused at first but then he’s straightening up. “Oh, right, right. It’s me! Just, uh, your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Rescuing damsels in distress is kinda my thing.”

Your amusement for the mysterious hero is quick to fade, however, in wake of the throbbing pain on your head. It makes you aware of the fact that your knees have since grown weak, your mind spinning. When you take a step forward, you are suddenly faint and stumble over your feet, tripping to the ground. Before you can hit the pavement, the boy swoops forward and into view, catching you swiftly in his arms and holding you up.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he says. “Oh man, we gotta get you home. Can you tell me where you live?”

You can feel your lips moving in response, most likely informing him foolishly of the apartment complex you live in. Though this boy has been noted on performing acts of bravery and fighting against crime, he’s still a stranger ━ and, even more warily so, a complete enigma. There was no reason to trust him, despite him helping you only minutes ago, but in that moment you are weak and exhausted. In the very next second, you find yourself slipping off into a deep and tranquil slumber.

When you awaken the next morning, you are first greeted to the bright light of the sun that licks at your cheeks and warms your face. You note the soft plush of the mattress under you, the soft breeze that ruffles your hair, and when you pry your eyes open, you find yourself laying on the bed in your room; your window opened. Just when you begin to think the night before was all just some elaborate dream, you feel the slight tinge of pain in the back of your head and, despite it all ━ despite the pain and despite the memory strange man who had followed you ━ you smile softly at the thought of the boy in red and blue.

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

Truthfully, you’ve been eager to find him around campus if only to tell him about your encounter with New York’s masked hero. You hadn’t told many people, safe for your closest friends, though you’re keen to see Jungkook’s reaction as you’ve learned he’s a fan of this spider guy. Wednesday is the only day you have a class with him and so as soon as the boring lecture for your anthropology class is finished, you spot him striding casually out the door and catch up to him just as he’s walking down the smooth pavement of the campus sidewalk.

Word, however, seems to spread fast amongst the friends in your year and whereas you only told one of your friends on that previous Friday about your encounter in the alleyway, Jungkook has already heard the story through misconstrued words at least a dozen times, through whisperings of people that aren’t even your friends. It’s a novelty, apparently, to witness something like this strange masked man. But, naturally, Jungkook is rather surprised when he hears your familiar dulcet voice calling his name.

“Jungkook!”

He whirls around to face you and smiles as he sees your figure walking towards him, adorned in leggings and a baggy school shirt to match the evening’s warm weather. You’re smiling at him, almost as radiantly as the sun that it almost quite literally blinds him as he doesn’t seem to notice the other girl walking just in front of him. He bumps into her before he can step out of the way and hastily apologizes before turning back to you only to see you giggling.

“What can I do for you on this fine evening?” he asks as you approach.

“I’ve been meaning to find you since Friday,” You say. “You’ll never believe what happened on Thursday.”

“I’ve been hearing it all week since then.”

“You have? Who told you?”

This causes Jungkook to chuckle lightly. He hikes the usual one strap of his backpack further up his shoulder as the two of you begin to walk again, “Y/N, everyone’s been talking about it. I guess no one can keep their mouth shut anymore. So tell me: what was this Spider-Man guy like?”

A small smile stretches across your face at the name, your teeth instinctively biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to hide in. Was it just Jungkook or did he see the slightest of pink pinch at your cheeks? When you look back up at him, your eyes are shimmering.

“Honestly?” You reply sheepishly. “I think I’m crushing on him pretty hard.”

Jungkook nearly chokes. When he speaks next, his voice is slightly higher than usual, so he clamps his mouth shut, clears his throat, and tries again. “You don’t say? He must be a real charmer then. Do you, uh, even know him well enough to crush on him?”

“It’s strange,” You remark. “You’re right ━ I don’t even know him and yet I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since then. I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?”

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Remember that guy you scared away Thursday night? I got into some trouble with him━ but don’t worry!” You throw in the last few words when you see Jungkook’s brows scrunch in concern. “Spider-Man came before anything could happen. He saved me. I owe him my life at this point.”

Jungkook notes the dreamlike tone in your voice and when he glances down at you, you’re smiling blissfully down at your scuffed Converse shoes. It’s mesmerizing to see you so content and jubilant, beaming like the sun once more that hangs in the clear cerulean blue sky. He inhales a deep breath of fresh air, smells the wafting nodes of freshly ground coffee somewhere in the distance, and exhales slowly.

Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he looks over at you once more and asks, “Hey, um, so for that anthro project we have to do ━ I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to be partners for it?”

Your eyes light up at the proposition and you nod enthusiastically. “Sure thing. I’d love that, actually. Maybe we can meet up this Sunday to plan everything out and see who’s doing what?”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Just then, you hear the familiar sound of your friend calling your name. You glance ahead where your eyes land on a group of girls sitting on a nearby bench and you wave at them. They gesture you over and you skip ahead a few paces, turning to look at Jungkook. He smiles as he nods.

“Sorry,” You apologize sheepishly. “But Sunday at the café at noon?”

“Sounds like a date.” Jungkook reddens suddenly at the way he words his thoughts and stammers to correct himself. “Not a date! Work date. Uh━”

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

Then you’re rushing off to join your friends, leaving Jungkook alone once more. He sighs in your wake, shakes his head at himself, and grudgingly walks away.

That night you can hardly sleep.

You blame it on the stress that comes with being a student, constantly under the strain of a multitude of assignments and upcoming tests. When the clock strikes half past one in the morning just as you are finishing typing up the last sentence of a seven page essay on your laptop (seated at your desk, where you have been for the past few hours), you decide you need a break before you go absolutely insane. Shrugging on a simple cardigan, you tiptoe out of your room, down the corridor to the elevator, ignoring the way your joints that have stiffened in place stretch in a satisfying pop. You’re stumbling out and onto the roof of your apartment building in no less than five minutes, emerging out into the open night.

It isn’t terribly cold and, after inhaling a deep breath of the refreshing air, you sigh in relief and you walk to the concrete barrier at the very edge of the roof and lean against it. Gazing out at the vibrant and lively concrete and glass buildings and skyscrapers alike that build the city of New York, with each window illuminated by a warm glow of light, seems to give you a sense of peace. You can hear the hum of cars, a distant sound of sirens, the occasional honk, and the thump of bass from somewhere in the distance to your left, all amassing into the rhythmic pulse of the city; across from you, in the building complex on the other side of the street, you can see silhouetted figures of perhaps caffeinated students or late night lovers. The sky is empty, blank and dull as it stretches on over the entirety of the city, but you can see the moon, brightly shining in all its glory, bold and proud amongst the artificial light.

A slight breeze disrupts the stillness of the roof, rustles your hair, followed by the looming feeling of not being alone. You hear the sound of footsteps landing softly on the ground and turn around slowly, casting your gaze across the seemingly empty rooftop. But you see it ━ or rather, him ━ in the shadows near the door a bit further off. It’s strange how calm you are in the moment but the presence doesn’t exactly feel intimidating to you ━ especially when you notice the flash of red and blue.

“You again?” You ask humorously.

“Sorry if I scared you.” The voice that carries with the wind towards you is familiar, youthful. “Definitely not my intention.”

“I’m not scared,” You say. “If I can recall amongst your many gritty crime fighting, you saved a cat stuck in a tree a while back.”

The boy chuckles. “Ah, well, just all a part of the job.”

“What are you doing here?” You take a step toward him and hear him retreat further into the darkness.

“Well, you’re probably going to call me weird and insane,” he says, “but I just wanted to check on you. You were pretty out of it when I dropped you off at your place.”

“You’re not stalking me now, are you?”

“No way!” he says. “I was just, y’know, in the neighbourhood. I was actually about to call it a night when I passed your apartment and then I saw you up here. Must be fate, huh?”

“Fate sure is weird,” You muse pensively, pursing your lips. You pause, squinting your eyes into the darkness. “Thanks, by the way. For helping me that night and bringing me back. Is there anyway I can repay you?”

“Repay me? Oh, no, no!” he says. “That’s not what this is all about, I promise. What I do is for the city and for the people. I can sleep better at night knowing thugs like that guy are being taken care of properly.”

“That’s a pretty commendable thing to do,” You say. “You gotta be pretty brave to put yourself in danger each night.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

There’s a smirk in his voice that stretches his words into a confident and smug drawl. You, in turn, smile bashfully. You look down at your shoes and then back up at the shadows.

“Can you step out of the dark?” You ask. “I want to see you.”

“Ah, but then that’ll ruin the mystique,” he points out. “And where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head at him, pearly white teeth gnawing down on your lower lip to hide the smile that tugs at your mouth. You pull your cardigan tighter around your torso, ignoring the distant sound of a wailing siren.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he says. “I have to go but it was a pleasure meeting you━ uh, what was your name again?”

“I never told you,” You say. “And if I do, it’ll ruin the mystique, won’t it? Where’s the fun in that?”

He laughs into the night, a sound so genuine and amiable. “Fair enough. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, despite the terrible circumstances. Try to stay out of trouble, okay? And get some sleep!”

You can hear him moving, as if preparing to leave. You step forward, mouth opening to stop him, but then he is gone, the sound of feet leaping into the air the last thing you hear from him. By the time you rush to the other side of the roof and look around frantically for any sight of him, you spot the mysterious vigilante as a tiny speck soaring from building to building. You smile as you watch him disappear amongst the horizon, bleeding into the glow of lights until he is gone, becoming one with the city altogether.

The days pass in a very typical blur.

Sunday comes and goes much too fast where both you and Jungkook work diligently for a few hours at the café before the rest of the week goes by. You hardly see Jungkook except for at night, as always past 9 p.m., when he stumbles wearily into the café and plops down in his usual seat. And, with the days passing as usual, there are still the consistent reports of sightings of this mysterious Spider-Man. Though you seem to go about your routinely oblivious days, you are all Jungkook is able to think about. You are all he usually thinks about these days, anyway, and all he is thinking about that very Wednesday when he’s supposed to be hanging out with Taehyung.

It isn’t uncommon to see Jungkook with Taehyung around campus. They have, after all, been best friends since the moment they met in their small daycare they attended together. Taehyung is more than accustomed with Jungkook’s habits and knows the boy in and out, including every secret and every crush he’s ever had (which, for the most part, has been you). That Thursday afternoon they are both sitting at the park just across from campus where most students from the school spend their time. Jungkook’s perched on the edge of the large concrete water fountain in the middle of the bustling meadow, with Taehyung reclining on his back, basking in the sun with a bag of chips on his stomach. They both spot you walking by with a friend and wave at Jungkook which causes Taehyung to roll his eyes.

“Dude,” he sighs, exasperated. “Just ask her out already. She already said she’s crushing on you.”

Jungkook looks down at his friend and shakes his head. “No, she said she’s crushing on Spider-Man. Not me.”

Taehyung, who was in the middle of shoving a handful of chips in his mouth, stops suddenly. He pushes himself up, nearly dropping the bag of chips, eyes wide as he stares at Jungkook in utter disbelief.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” He asks incredulously. “You’re the same person, you idiot.”

“But she doesn’t know that,” Jungkook explains calmly. “As far as she knows, Spider-Man is this cool dude and I’m just… I’m just me. Jungkook. Boring and not charming.”

“So then tell her the truth,” Taehyung says. “Y’know, use yourself as your own wingman.”

As he shoves another handful of chips into his mouth, Jungkook shakes his head once more. He’s already thought of this idea plenty of times before but it’s not as easy as it seems. The responsibility that comes with putting on that mask each night is followed by even greater risks for the people he’s around. Telling you the truth could only end in one way, anyway.

“I can’t do that,” Jungkook says. “What if I tell her and she’s let down?”

Taehyung would shake his head disapprovingly at his friend this time and mumble something along the lines of, “You think too much.”

And while that may be true in Jungkook’s case, Taehyung just wouldn’t understand. There is a reason Taehyung is the only person who knows about Jungkook’s secret and he is already endangering the life of his friend. To tell anyone else would only result in a much more terrible outcome for not only the people around him, but Jungkook himself. Still, though, as Jungkook settles back on the edge of the fountain and looks in the direction of the path you had vanished along, there is an inkling of a voice in the back of his mind that nags him, urges him, to tell you.

Jungkook sighs. He finds it ironic that anytime he puts on the red mask and flings himself into perilous danger, he is always confident, never once wavering, and yet when he is just himself, just another mundane passerby, that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit suddenly pales in comparison.

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

On Friday evening well into the night when what little stars you can see in the polluted sky begins to blend with the glowing light from building windows as far as the eye can see you find yourself at an overcrowded and clamorous party. You had been more than content with spending the start of your weekend not working but, upon entering the party, you find yourself not nearly enjoying the time as well as you had hoped you would. You’ve long since lost sight of your friends and the guy standing in the corner of the living room who had been eyeing you for most of the night had most certainly not helped with your mood ━ and, if anything, turned you off from drinking.

Albeit still slightly buzzed from the few drinks you had earlier been bestowed in the quintessential red solo cup that defines every high school and college party you’ve been to, you stumble out onto the balcony of one of the rooms for a breath of fresh air and are startled to find you aren’t alone when you spot the figure of a young man leaning against the railing.

“Oh, shit, sorry. Didn’t know anyone was out here━”

As the figure turns around, you are relieved and thrilled to see it’s Jungkook. You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut, and smile up at him with a dainty hand on your hip. A look of recognition dawns on his face at the sight of you, his own lips tugging into a friendly grin.

“That’s okay,” he says. “Feel free to join me on the balcony of escaped party attendees ━ because I assume that’s what you’re doing? Escaping?”

You push yourself forward to the railing, standing beside him as he turns back around to face the city. “I just needed a break from it all. You? I gotta say I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here.”

He flashes you a sheepish smile, resting his arms atop the railing and leaning forward. “Exactly. Parties aren’t really my scene. My friend, Taehyung, dragged me out here but this balcony seems to be my favourite place.”

“Well, if it means anything,” You tell him, “I’m glad you came.”

When you look at Jungkook, you find him already gazing at you, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. His carob eyes crinkle with the smile on his face and he finds himself still staring at you even long after you have turned away to stare up at the sky. It’s a surprisingly warm night, though you silently thank yourself for throwing on the denim jacket you’re wearing earlier in the day whenever a cool breeze breaks through the city.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” You say after a while. “That we can’t see the stars from the city. That’s why I like camping. Star-gazing and watching the sunrise are two of my favourite things. It kind of keeps me humble in a way.”

“That’s an interesting way of thinking about that,” Jungkook says. “Sometimes I get so carried away by being in the city; it’s kind of nice just to slow things down once in a while.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way,” You crane your neck to cast a steady gaze across the towering buildings in the near distance. “The city can be pretty beautiful, too, though.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Your eyes twinkle playfully at a sudden thought that seems to warm your face. “And some of the people help make it beautiful. Like that spider guy. What he’s doing for the city is incredible.”

“Ah, right. Spider-Man.” The words leave Jungkook in a small exhale. “You must really like him, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

“They’re just scared of him because he’s doing their job better than they ever could.”

Jungkook chuckles lightly. He shakes his head as he looks down at his clasped hands and the calluses on his fingers from past tribulations. It’s silent again, in which time the thump of bass from the party ensuing behind you two fills the air, followed by a burst of vigorous chanting and cheering from within.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks suddenly, his voice timid.

“Go ahead.”

Jungkook pauses, thinking. He seems to struggle with forming his thoughts into words as he remains silent for a second too long. “Okay, let’s say I know this person really important to me, and let’s say I have this thing ━ this equally as important thing ━ that I really want to tell them. The thing is, I can’t just do that because if I do, I’m afraid that this person will be let down. What do you think I should do?”

You’re quiet as you ponder his words, looking pensively down at the city below.

“Well,” You hum slowly, “what’s the point in hiding behind a fake front the whole time? It’s kind of like hiding behind a mask your whole life, right? And I think life is too short for that because, before you know it, it’ll be too late. What if you don’t tell this person and you end up regretting it for the rest of your life? I don’t know. Sometimes I think that you just meet the right person in life who’s worth that risk.”

Jungkook turns to look at you and suddenly your eyes meet in a steady, thoughtful gaze. His own stare softens at whatever sort of thoughts flood his mind and you wonder if his eyes have always been that shimmering. His tousled dark brown locks flitter slightly in the breeze, his pink lips parted ever so slightly. You open your mouth to speak, uttering his name in a euphonious whisper.

“Jungkook, I━”

But your voice is cut off abruptly by the influx sound of wailing sirens down below that convey some sort of grim situation unfolding somewhere in the formidable darkness of the night. Both you and Jungkook press yourselves over the railing, squinting down at the crowded streets below just in time to see a flash of blinking red lights and a mass of both police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks. From somewhere in the background from within the party, you can hear a voice exclaiming, “Dude, there’s a fire around the corner from here! The whole street is blocked off.”

“No way. What the hell happened?” Another voice asks.

You exchange a wary glance with Jungkook before slipping back into the party. A small group has formed around the t.v. in the living room, on which is playing the local news and showcasing a burning apartment building, the vicious orange flames of which billow out of opened windows and all but consume the top floor as clouds of gray and black smoke invade the night sky. There’s a reporter talking fast into the camera, describing in detail what had happened to the building on a nearby street, but your eyes can only stay fixated on the monstrous flames. You don’t realize Taehyung has somehow found both you and his friend and is standing behind the other boy, watching the news unfold before him. Unbeknownst to you, his stare flickers nervously to Jungkook and then━

“Shit,” Jungkook curses suddenly. “I gotta go.”

You turn to look at him curiously. “Go where? It’s midnight on a Friday.”

“I completely forgot I had to pick my aunt up from the subway,” he says. “She works the late night shifts and I can’t let her walk alone in the dark like this. I’ll see you both later! Let me know what happens with the fire.”

Taehyung, who seems more than accustomed to Jungkook’s abrupt pardon of his presence, nods. “Will do.”

The boy is already a few feet away from you, rushing toward the front door of the room, but you stop him before he can slip out of your reach entirely.

“Wait, Jungkook!” You call out. He spins around to look at you almost immediately, a look of panic on his face. “Don’t forget we have to meet up at the library on Sunday to work on the project.”

“Got it,” he says, raising his two forefingers to his forehead in a mock salute. He turns back around and begins bounding towards the door, giving you two one last wave. “See you later!”

The door slams shut behind him and the party, despite the group crowded around the t.v., carries on in a cacophonous sound of drunken yelling and dumb music, completely and utterly oblivious. You let out a sigh as you turn back to the t.v., noting Taehyung’s presence still beside you. He takes a satisfying sip of whatever beverage is occupying the red cup in his hand and nods.

“That’s Jungkook for you,” he says. His voice is a tired sigh, dispirited almost, as he thinks of the boy that has been his friend since freshman year of highschool. Just before he turns away, you hear him muttering, “Always putting others before him.”

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

Whether or not he had entirely blown you off or had simply forgotten, you wait and wait in complete silence in the school library for nearly three hours as every call and every text you send to his phone goes otherwise unnoticed or ignored. It is entirely unlike Jungkook to completely vanish and though you want to be mad, you are more disappointed than anything else. You spend your time at a table by yourself, books and papers sprawled out before you, as you try to work diligently on the last piece of writing you need for the assignment to be complete whilst trying to not let your eyes wander to the time on the clock hanging on the wall opposite you but to no avail.

In a corner above the front desk, you see a t.v. propped on the wall that plays the silent image of the news as they recall the events from that Friday at the burning building. Fortunately, that spider guy had arrived before any casualties could happen and you watch, for the third time since Friday, as the recording footage shows the red and blue hero swinging defiantly into the wall of fire and pulling various residents from the fire. A duo of girls sitting next to you croons dreamily over the masked man, especially as they witness him emerging from the fire with a small and unscathed Corgi dog in his hands that, you admit, is rather admirable.

On Wednesday night, you find yourself stuck in the sparkling confinements of the café bound to the six hour shift you were in the midst of completing. It’s surprisingly busy for a day in the middle of the week, though you assume that’s only because each customer is in a rush to seek refuge from the surprisingly cold evening. You hadn’t even been thinking about Jungkook when he makes himself known in the café some time after 9 p.m. You hear the bell ring above the door, feel a short gust of shocking wind, before it shuts behind him. When you look up instinctively to greet the newcomer and lay your eyes on the boy, your words fall short.

You watch as he stumbles forward, his feet practically dragging behind him in worn up Converse shoes. He looks exhausted ━ even more so than usual ━ and judging by his dishevelled hair and crumpled clothes and the way he seems to walk in a daze as if he is in another world, you assume he hasn’t slept in a while. He still hauls his backpack with one strap slung over his shoulder that he drops lazily to the ground beside a table before he plops himself down into the seat with a groan in one swift motion. What’s most strange are the blossoming bruises on his neck and the fresh cut on the highest point of his left cheekbone.

You hate that you’re so weak for that boy; that even though he completely ignored you, you still pity him. Wondering what sorts of trouble he’s been finding himself in lately, you pour him a cup of steaming black coffee and walk towards his table. He hardly even notices you as his head is buried in his folded arms atop the table, though he peeks up past his bangs when you slide the coffee beside him.

“I’d hate to see the other guy,” You hum.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pushes himself up, raking a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. “Y/N━”

“Where were you, Jungkook?” You ask sternly, suddenly. “On Sunday? I waited for you for over three hours. I called you and texted you and you completely ignored me. You could have at least gotten back to me. I had to finish the rest of the assignment by myself.”

His brow creases with concern, his stare softening apologetically. He leans forward, suddenly helpless.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I━I didn’t mean to━ Something came up.”

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You sigh. “It’s fine. I can’t stay and chat but I’ll have you know I already handed the assignment in online. You’re welcome. Oh, and the coffee’s on the house. You look like crap.”

You spin on your heel and march away to help another customer before Jungkook can even try to talk to you. He watches as you slip from his grasp, a frown scrunching up your face that is forced to soften as you approach another table. He collapses against his chair and groans inwardly, rubbing his hand over his aching and swollen face. He knows you’re mad at him but he can’t quite tell if you’ll stay like that for long. He doesn’t blame you anyway, but he couldn’t just tell you where he had gone or what had happened. Could he?

It’s much to his dismay that you don’t talk to him the next day, or on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Thursday. He tries to find you around campus but he is always too late and, instead, finds you slipping away from him each time. He pops into the café a few nights and though you work both nights, it’s still much too busy to actually talk to you and so he, doing what he does best, falls asleep at the table as he silently broods. Whether or not it’s your anger purposely driving you further from him or simply life intervening, Jungkook wants nothing more than to apologize ━ if he can even get close enough to you to do so.

Finding yourself on the rooftop of your apartment building isn’t uncommon. Most of your free time is spent up there, either watching the night sky or gazing at the busy city under a cerulean blue sky and golden sun. That Friday night is no different. With no homework and no social gathering to devote yourself to, you sneak off to the roof and position yourself in just a spot where you can see the towering buildings of each borough in each direction you cast your gaze. You would have been content falling asleep up there, with nothing but the sound of the distant hum of cars to lull you and the view of the moon and window lights that act as the metropolis’s stars.

You all but lose track of time, unaware of whether or not you have been there for minutes or hours but you don’t entirely mind. You would be lying, too, if you denied that there was some sort of inkling of hope in you that hoped maybe you would see him again. That is why when you hear the soft plop of feet dropping to the ground moments later, you are not at all startled by the sudden presence, though you are astounded by his arrival, as if on cue. You don’t even need him to speak to know who it is and when you feel the smile ghost along your lips, there is a moment of pause where you question your own sanity for being so happy to see this masked and mysterious man. But he isn’t at all a mystery at this point when you feel as if you’ve acquainted yourself with him well enough.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” The voice that drifts through the shadows of the roof is familiar, gentle. “It’s dark. Who knows who could come up here?”

“Yeah,” You snort. “Wouldn’t want any strangers sneaking up on me ━ or masked vigilantes who seem to be following me.”

You turn to look at him but are greeted with nothing except emptiness. He lingers somewhere in the darkness and you squint your eyes, desperately trying to spot him. He laughs, the sound so silvery and smooth like honey.

“Someone’s following you?” he replies tauntingly. “Do I have to deal with them again?”

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

The sudden question seems to cause him to hesitate. It’s silent before you hear his voice wander over to you.

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

“Now that’s suspicious. Maybe I should call the police on you.”

“They would never be able to catch me.”

“Someone’s cocky,” You take a step toward the darkness, in the direction of the sound of his voice. “Did the fame get to you already?”

You hear him take a step back from you and it, subsequently, causes you to linger. You wait before stubbornly pushing yourself forward once more.

“What fame? People want to lock me up.”

“And most people are in love with you. I overheard a few girls gushing over you saving that dog from that burning building the other day,” You giggle. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“Ah, well,” You can hear the grin in his voice, can see the silhouette of his figure not too far from you, “I gotta admit the attention is pretty nice. But no one knows who I am without this mask so it doesn’t really matter.”

“How does that make you feel?”

One step forward, another backward. You pause; at this rate, you’ll have chased him all the way to the other side of the roof.

“I don’t mind. It keeps me humble,” he replies. “But it also stops me a lot of the time, y’know? With this mask on, I feel invincible; with it off, I feel useless. But someone pretty important to me once told me that life is too short to constantly hide behind a mask.”

A wide, genuine smile stretches across your face. You take another step forward and this time he stands still. From where you are, you can see the tall and lean figure, adorned in the signature tight red and blue suit.

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

“She is pretty admirable. Much braver than I could ever be without this mask.”

He turns around from you before you can reach him. You watch as he casually strides forward a few paces to the barrier behind him, which he props his hands against to lean on. He seems to be lost in thought, perhaps struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. You tiptoe in suit, cautious as you approach him. You can see the muscles that strain from beneath his suit, the heave and fall of his chest.

“Can I know your name?” Your voice is a gentle whisper that carries to him with the wind. “Your real name?”

When he turns around to face you once more, you’re standing only a few feet away from him. You take another step forward, closing the short distance between the two of you and are made aware of how much taller he really is. The way he towers over you is almost comforting, familiar, that no emotionless red mask could cause you to stray. He’s so much more different up close in that suit. He hesitates before he forces himself to speak.

“I think,” he pauses. He swallows thickly, attempting to subdue the quickening race of his heart as he clamps his fingers into his sweaty palms. “I think you already know my name.”

This seems to pique your interest. Quirking a brow and cocking your head to the side, you stare up at the masked face that gazes back down at you. You aren’t entirely sure what compels you to do so, as it could be a complete disaster and not at all what you are expecting, but you slowly, so very slowly, reach up with your hands to grasp gingerly at his face. The red fabric beneath your fingertips is soft and as your digits brush lightly over his covered cheekbones, he hardly moves. For some reason, you can feel your heart hammering against your feeble chest, can hear it in your ears in tandem with the sound of passing traffic down below. His heart is beating just as fast, though he thinks it nearly stops when he feels your fingers begin to gently pull at the neck of his mask, sliding it upward.

The first poke of tanned skin has your heart quickening, your breath hitching in your throat. You tug the mask the rest of the way off and, finally, step back to look at the mysterious masked hero known as Spider-Man.

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

The familiar boy stands before you, his hair a disheveled mess from the mask, his doe eyes even wider now in timid fear as he looks down at you. Everything is him, from his luscious pink lips, to the freckle on his neck, the piercings in his ears, that tiny scar he’s had since he was a child on his cheek. The city lights and moon illuminate him from behind and he seems nervous as he anticipates a reaction but you are much too busy admiring him. Your fingers trace delicately over the fresh scar on his face that he had brandished at the café only a few nights ago. A breath of satisfaction slips past your parted lips and then you’re laughing silently to yourself.

The boy looks dumbfounded at first, and then he quirks a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“I knew it,” You shake your head at nothing in particular, or perhaps the way you continue to giggle.

Jungkook suddenly looks shocked, though he instantly seems to relax. He studies the smile that stretches across your cheeks in awe, brightening your face in all its glory. “How did you know?”

“Well, you’re not exactly that smooth, Jungkook,” You grin. “The late nights coming into the café, always scratched up and always tired as if you’ve ran all over the city; always getting jumpy when you hear police sirens ━ like the night at the party. Not to mention that one time at the café when the news was on and they were talking about a robbery at the bank and hostages being held and you ran right out of there only for Spider-Man to show up on the scene minutes later. It’s all very suspicious, don’t you think?”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him, a joyous sound of content. He leans against the palm of your hand that is cradling the side of his face with the scar.

“Right,” he sighs. “All very suspicious.”

His stare locks with yours in a steady gaze and neither of you can turn away. His eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky, lingering with it a sense of hope and content. He is mesmerizing, with the city he devotes his time to saving in the horizon beyond him. It’s near impossible to look away, but why would you want to? It happens much like a blink of an eye, a frail beat of your heart; it comes with the passing of a car whizzing by on the streets down below and is as much startling as the sudden breeze that sends chills down your spine.

He begins to lean forward ━ or maybe that was you? Your eyes flutter shut, your anticipation held with a deep breath, until finally your lips meet with his though you hardly have time to relish in it. Almost as soon as your lips touch, he’s pulling away quickly. He doesn’t move too far and his mouth lingers just over yours. His eyes remain fixated on the curl of your lips for a moment too long before he rips them away to meet your hazy gaze.

“Wait,” he hums. “You━ You said you were crushing on Spider-Man. Does that mean you knew this whole time and━ and like me?”

The question is so like Jungkook; so innocent and silly and genuine that it causes a sweet giggle to bubble at your lips. He’s always been so oblivious to these kinds of things and so maybe that’s what pushes you to kiss him next. Your lips lock for a second time and, though it is just as fleeting, you note with joy the softness of his mouth as it folds over yours. You part from him with a breathless gasp, your nose brushing lightly against his as a smile stretches across your face.

“What do you think, bugboy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a playful taunt that makes Jungkook smile wide.

He kisses you this time, slow and passionate as if attempting to pour every single one of his emotions and thoughts for you into the single intimate action. His hands grasp at either side of your face, carefully pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss and you, instinctively, melt against his broad chest. Your fingers trail up the lean muscle of his arms to twine in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging with yearning. His hands fall to your waist, enveloping you in his body, and when he parts from you, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I show you something?”

You nod. His eyes light up and then he’s jumping up onto the cement barrier behind him, turning around to look at you. You gasp from the sudden movement, your stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him quite literally standing on the edge of a building only to remind yourself he’s Spider-Man. He’s done plenty more reckless things than this. He holds his hand out, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

There’s no hesitation as you answer him with another firm nod. “Of course. Always.”

“Then take my hand,” he says. “I’ll never do anything to harm you, you know that.”

You do know that. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt a fly; he’s too good and precious for the world you live in and he says yes far too often to people who most likely don’t deserve it, but he knows when to stand up for not only himself but others as well. You are just one of the few he cares for wholeheartedly and you know that.

You reach out carefully and place your hand in his surprisingly cold and large ones. His fingers wrap around yours as he helps you up onto the barrier, holding you closely toward him.

You take a deep breath, shut your eyes, and put every ounce of your trust into this single, courageous boy ━ and you let yourself fall with him.

You’re roused awake by the sound of light tapping against your bedroom window.

It startles you at first, causing you to jolt upright into a sitting position as you look around frantically at your empty and dark room; the only light comes from the city life and the moon outside, shedding a warm glow onto the floor before it. For a moment, you think you had just dreamt the noise but then you hear it again, low and near. You crane your neck to look and first see a shadow but, as the figure shifts into view, you’re able to see the familiar young man in red and blue. Your heart leaps in your chest and suddenly you’re scrambling off your feet, throwing yourself at the window to throw it open.

The night Jungkook had admitted to being Spider-Man and jumped up onto the edge of the roof, holding his hand out to you in a silent question of trust, he leaves you with a night that you swear you will cherish forever. Wary of where he will go but entirely consenting of his spontaneity, he surprises you by carrying you throughout the city, swinging from building to building in an extraordinary feat that feels as if you’re flying; and, as if that hadn’t been a big enough thrilling shock, he brings you to the very top of the Empire State Building, just under the antenna. No one is there and no one can see you and, with Jungkook under the brightening sky with the view of New York stretching out into the horizon before you, you feel as if you have the whole world in the very palm of your hand.

You sit with Jungkook that night, talking, not talking, listening intently to him as he recounts the tale of how he had turned into the masked hero with his peculiar powers, and watching the sunrise from beyond the very tops of buildings and skyscrapers. There are no words to describe the breathtaking view from one of the highest points in the city, watching as the golden sun peaks over the horizon and sets the city ablaze in saturated warm hues of orange, pink, and purple, mingling together in one impressionistic masterpiece that could put even the greatest of painters to shame. The light reflects against the glass panes of windows in a mirage similar to flickering flames that never scathe the city, but instead seem to enhance the beauty it holds.

You never want the night to end but eventually it does and, when he returns you to your bedroom window with one parting kiss, it and Jungkook’s lips are all you can dream about.

A week has passed since then, in which time you’ve done nothing but find yourself growing closer with Jungkook. He’s all you’ve been able to think about these days. So, to hear him and see him at your window is enough to make butterflies form in the very pit of your stomach. You see him sitting on the fire escape just outside your window, leaning against the building looking even more exhausted than usual. Another fresh cut lines his cheek in a stripe of red though he doesn’t seem to mind much for it as he dozes off slightly. You push open the window, startling him awake, and poke your head outside. A weary smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you.

“Well, this is romantic,” You stifle the giggle that bubbles at your mouth. “Thank you for not throwing rocks at my window, Romeo. To what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you at two in the morning?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.”

His response earns a shy smile stretching across your face. “No, you didn’t wake me,” You say with a shake of your head (though the way you comb your fingers through your mused hair tells him otherwise). “What happened to your face, Jungkook?”

He reaches up to his face, as if momentarily forgetting the cut, winces, and then drops his hand from his face. He grins wolfishly, attempting to shrug it off. “Oh, this little thing? It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I just got caught up in a little fight but I’m fine. I swear. You really should see the other guy.”

The smug tone in his voice as he rambles on makes you stare at him in amusement. You sigh as you take a step back, saying, “Come inside. I’ll clean that for you.”

“Well, if you insist.”

He smirks as he pulls himself through the window and into your room. His eyes wander around the four walls, noting the decor that lines it, the shelves with all your personal trinkets and belongings, the clothes littered on the floor, and the empty take-out box of Chinese food that rests atop your desk. There’s a soft aroma of something sweet that smells like you ━ possibly a perfume or a soap or shampoo? ━ and it makes Jungkook’s head spin pleasantly. He asks about your day and then sits on the bed and, as you tell him about your boring classes as you rummage around your bathroom for something to clean his wound with, he smiles.

He finds your room comforting ━ or maybe he just finds your presence comforting. Either way, over time you find that this would only be a common occurrence throughout the next month. He startles you the first few times he shows up but then you begin to stay awake a little longer, waiting eagerly by the window as you wait for him to arrive. Most times he’s bruised or has small and fresh cuts, of which you either hand him an ice packet or clean the cut; sometimes he isn’t even hurt and instead claims simply that he just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. But each time he listens to you and your day, asking about yourself rather than him and no matter how hard you try to pry information out of him about what had possibly happened to him throughout his night, he swiftly brushes it off. You don’t mind either way ━ you just want to see him as much as you can, anyway.

There is one night, however, where things seem to go entirely different.

You’re curled up in bed reading a book when you hear the light tapping on your window. You’ve come to leave the window pried open slightly as you wait for him, but even so he still takes the time to knock to signal his arrival. You instantly climb to your feet, wandering over to the window and tossing it open with a flourish. As Jungkook climbs in through the small space, you note the tight suit he’s wearing is slashed at the top of his arm and both the skin underneath it and on his face is bruised and cut; other than that, and judging by the cheeky smile on his face, he seems to be ok.

You shake your head at him, smiling gingerly as you muse, “Who’s the damsel in distress now, bugboy?”

Jungkook smirks, prodding your sides with his fingers and causing you to squirm as you walk past him. “There’s no shame in needing a little help every once and awhile, right? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Sit down,” You tell him, winking up at him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Minutes later you return to sit by his side on the bed, cleaning his cuts as per usual and, while he has a frozen packet of peas pressed to his bruised and sore shoulder, you are busying yourself by sewing the cut in his suit with blue thread you had found in your room. In the midst of your work, perhaps you press too generously down on his recent wound, as he winces slightly and shifts on top of your bed. You crane your neck to look up at him, studying him curiously. He seems to notice your stare and quirks a brow as he looks down at you.

“What’s up?”

Your fingers stop their work on his suit and, remembering where the cut had broken his skin just slightly underneath the tear, brush lightly over the tender flesh covered in gauze. “Does it hurt?”

Jungkook shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Hurt? No, no, of course not. It just, uh━ It isn’t the most pleasant. But this isn’t the worst I’ve been after a night in the suit so I can handle it.”

Your eyes study his battered face in some sort of admiration, albeit mixed with timid nervousness. What sort of things had he encountered, had he been through, that he won’t tell you?

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

“No way,” he shakes his head, but not before you spot the confident grin he flashes you. “It’s honestly nothing I can’t handle by now. It’s not so bad, either. It’s kinda weird. I mean, ever since getting bitten, I’ve found the healing process is a whole lot faster.”

Maybe he notices the lingering uneasiness in your eyes, the way you seem to doubt him. He reaches out with his fingers to gingerly brush against the side of your face in a swift flourish as he tilts your head a little higher. He smiles something warm that makes your heart melt as you lean your face against the palm of his calloused hand. To avoid the prying stare he gives you, you smile lightly and shake your head, attempting to change the subject.

“Dunno, bugboy. Are there any perks to this job?”

Jungkook snorts as you finish sewing his suit. As you discard the needle and leftover thread, he says, “There are. Like, for instance, knowing the city is a little safer. Then there’s the fact that Spider-Man seems to have a lot of admirers…”

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter anyway because no one knows who you are.”

“Well, there is you,” he says. “And I gotta say you’re a pretty good perk.”

A blush tinges your cheeks as you sit across from him. Your eyes flicker down the suit that adorns him and you try to bite back the lighthearted snicker that bubbles at your chest. “I was gonna say a perk is this tight suit. At least, for me it is. Your ass has never looked more fantastic.”

Jungkook suddenly bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. When he looks back at you, his hand finds the side of your face once more and pulls you towards him. With your lips hovering just over his, he mumbles something, anything, just for the sake of responding despite already being lost in you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

You’ve come to find that Jungkook’s lips are entirely irresistible and the more you kiss him, the more you wonder why you hadn’t confessed to him earlier. He’s gentle as he lets his lips fold over yours, mouth dancing with mouth in a passionate yearning. But there’s a certain type of underlying insatiable hunger that seems to wash over both you and him and fast. Your fingers rake up the side of his face and tangle in his messy locks and soon he’s pulling you onto the bed, onto him. You instinctively straddle his lap, craning your neck so as to deepen the kiss, never once breaking apart for air. But something seems to happen, something that startles Jungkook so deeply. Perhaps it’s the way you grasp his hair a little tighter, the way he heard you gasp when he bites down gently on the side of your jaw, the way your hips fit over his; or perhaps it’s the way you tug off your shirt in an attempt to get closer to him, displaying to him the plain white bra you’re wearing that all culminate into something more. He knows where this is going, you know where this is going ━ and though Jungkook would want nothing more than to carry on, he’s reminded of a terrifying and prominent thought that has always haunted him the moment he made that mask.

You feel the way he tenses beneath you and, in the next quick second, he’s pulling apart from you and you, so dazed and lost, gasping for air, stare down at him dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You ask. “Did I hurt you? Is your arm okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

You grin as you press another kiss to his throat, mumbling into his neck, “Good, then let’s━”

“No.”

“What?”

You sit back on his lap suddenly, staring at him with a flushed face. Your hair is mussed messily, a red bruise blossoms on your jawline that Jungkook had graced you with, and one strap of your bra hangs daintily over your shoulder and Jungkook can’t help but notice how utterly sexy you look. He groans inwardly, tearing his gaze to look up at you. He swallows thickly, wincing at the bright and innocent twinkle in your eyes.

“We━” he pauses and then says, “We can’t do this.”

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says slowly, carefully, “we can’t do this. I’m━ I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking but I should have stopped this sooner.”

“Stop what?” Your voice is weak, small. You know what he’s referring to but you don’t want to believe it just yet.

Fuck, I can’t do this, Jungkook curses to himself. If he had just stayed away from you from the beginning, this wouldn’t even be happening. He wouldn’t be about to hurt you or himself.

“Us,” he whispers. “There can’t be an us, Y/N.”

Your brows knit together in confusion but your eyes are wide with fear. “What are you talking about? How can there not be an us? I thought━ I thought you wanted this.”

When he hesitates to respond, you’re quick to slide off of his lap, standing to your feet. Suddenly you’re panicking, embarrassed. He sees the way your lips are pulled tightly in a thin line, the way you rake your hands through your hair, mumbling, “Oh my god,” as you search for a shirt. Jungkook springs to his feet, grasping onto your waist but you easily slither out of his reach, clutching your shirt to your chest. To you, you think you have just made a fool of yourself, nearly striping naked for a boy who apparently doesn’t want you. Jungkook knows this is what you’re thinking and it pains him so.

“No, no, I do,” he says. “I do want this! I just can’t do it.”

“And why not?” You snap hotly. “You’re not making any sense. Either you do or you don’t want us to be a thing.”

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Any explanation would be better than none,” You say firmly, “and simultaneously making me look like an idiot for looking so eager.”

Jungkook sighs heavily. He takes a step back from you, running both hands frustratedly through his hair, letting the muscles in his biceps flex as he does so. When he looks back at you, he’s solemn.

“There can’t be an us because I’m just gonna put you in danger this way,” he says. “People are out there looking for me! Not just the police, but hardcore criminals, gangs, thugs, murderers. If they find me, or if they find out that you’re close to me or know me, they’ll hurt you too. I can’t have that, Y/N.”

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

“I can’t,” Jungkook’s voice is stern, set in place. “I can’t have that on my conscience, knowing that if you get hurt, it’s because of me. That’s all I ever worry about, from the second that I put this mask on. No one knows about me being Spider-Man and I kept it that way for a reason. Don’t you think I could have flaunted that I was this supposed super cool new hero? I didn’t do that because of you; because of the people that I’m close to.”

“I don��t care,” Your voice is feeble, cracking. “I don’t care if I get hurt. If you can handle it, then so can I! I just want to be with you, Jungkook. I━ I love you━”

Jungkook hears the words you blurt out quickly but he doesn’t seem to necessarily register them at once. A stiff silence settles in the room between the two of you, an undeniable form of the point of no return, except you don’t regret the words you say. You mean them wholeheartedly because you have always admired and loved Jungkook, from the little boy next door to this young hero before you. You stare at him shyly, albeit unwavering. A panic washes over him, drains his face of any colour, and suddenly it feels as if he can’t breathe, his chest concaving in on his shrill heart. As the words begin to register in his mind, he can only sorrowfully gaze at you; but the lack of silence has your confidence paling and soon you’re looking away, shaking your head. A pained expression paints your features and though it hurts Jungkook more than any other wound that has been inflicted upon him in fights on the street prior to this, he knows he has to do this.

You already know his answer before he even speaks it. When he does say the final words that leave you in such an excruciating and unbearable pain, he has already fled, grabbing his mask and escaping out of the window, escaping from you, and into the heart of the city. When he’s gone and you’re alone in the thick silence do his words finally return to you and are the cause of the broken heart you are forced to nurse through muddled tears over the aimless days to come:

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

You don’t see Jungkook the next day or the day after that.

In fact, you don’t see him for three entire weeks. He stops showing up at the café late at night, stops attending the classes he has with you (or maybe he just blends well into the other somber looking faces), stops visiting your window in the early morning hours. Autumn bleeds numbly into the beginning shock of cold that is winter and, though there is no snow yet, you still feel the wrath of the frigid season. And, with the sudden loss of Jungkook, comes the abrupt and unwarranted disappearance of Spider-Man. Maybe it is your fault, maybe it is Jungkook’s fault. Either way, the masked enigma vanishes without a trace after your argument with Jungkook and the city’s crime, now freed from the vigilant watchful eyes of New York’s hero, spikes.

It feels almost as if the city has swallowed him whole or as if he has dropped off the face of the earth and the only thing to remember him by is the sudden havoc that ensues the city. The only thing you have to even know if Jungkook is still alive are the occasional updates from Taehyung who comes to befriend you if only to mention Jungkook every once and awhile just for the sake of easing your worried mind. You’re not so much mad as you are upset, but you care entirely more for his own wellbeing and to not hear from him causes you agony.

There is only one brisk moment in which you encounter Jungkook and it comes simply from a happenstance. You are not at all expecting to see him and nor is he expecting to see you. Rather, you are seated on a wooden bench in the park just beside your school on a day graced with a strange warmth for winter. Wrapped in a scarf and knit hat, you are flipping through the pages of a book for one of your classes when a figure stands before you, momentarily blocking the sun’s light from your view. As you glance up at the shadow cast over you, you are genuinely surprised to find Jungkook standing there. He looks, perhaps, even more so dishevelled than usual, his hair and attire all one negligent mess as if he couldn’t even find the strength to care for himself. Dark circles line his sunken eyes which stare down at you sorrowfully.

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can’t turn away from him. For a moment, you fear that you will cave into him but then you are reminded of your broken heart. It’s what causes you to act in such haste, shaking your head up at him as you shut your book and shove it into your bag. You stand to your feet and brush past him and he, so caught up in your rejection of him and the own twinge of pain he feels in his heart, lingers by the bench. Then, he is walking after you, his footsteps swiftly catching him up to you.

“Y/N. Y/N, wait! Please, just let me━”

Jungkook breaks out into a sudden jog and only stops when he is standing in front of you. With your path blocked, you, too, come to a halt if only for the benefit of the doubt. He desperately tries to meet your eyes but you look past him, arms folded over your chest.

“Let me talk to you,” he begs. “Away from here. Just you and me. I can explain everything. I━”

“You had your chance, Jungkook,” You quip dryly. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I wasn’t━ I didn’t mean to━” he tries, but is interrupted once more by your strained voice.

“You left me.” Now you are staring at him and Jungkook wishes that you hadn’t even bothered to give him the chance. Once full of shimmering admiration, your eyes are only glossed over with a pained disappointment. “I told you I loved you and you left me. You made me look so stupid and I━ No. No, I’m not doing this right now.”

You push yourself forward, walking carefully around him. He watches as you storm away, shaking your head to yourself. With one last despairing attempt, he calls out to you once more.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I let you down. I know. I’m a failure.”

You stop. Your back is turned to him before you force yourself to look over at him and he foolishly thinks that maybe you’ll give him a chance to properly explain himself. Instead━

“You’re not a failure, Jungkook,” You tell him firmly. “I just━ I need to be alone right now. But don’t leave them. Don’t let them down. The city needs you.”

Jungkook flinches. He wants to call out to you again and pull you back to him, explain everything that is on his mind, but he can’t. Instead, he is forced to watch you walk away from him until you disappear amongst the crowd and even then he doesn’t move. He knows you’re disappointed with him.

He knows the whole city is disappointed with him ━ but the only person he wants to impress is you and he fears he’s ruined his only chance to.

You hardly seem to sleep at night anymore, instead too caught up in the thoughts that plague your dreams. Instead of going to the roof as you usually do when you can’t sleep, you find yourself lying helplessly in your bed, staring up at the empty night sky through your window. One night, as you’re dozing off on your bed, your eyes blinking wearily as they try to focus on the shimmering moon, you begin to hear a noise. It’s similar to a light tapping, though it drowns out in the sound of a siren from somewhere down below. At first you believe you have just dreamt it but then you hear a loud thud, slightly muffled from somewhere outside your window. It jolts you awake, has you pushing yourself up into a sitting position, and glancing around your room for any sign of something that may have fallen in there before noticing a flash of movement from the corner of your eye.

Red and blue.

Interest piques your drowsy mind at the thought of it being Jungkook but why would he be returning to you now? You would have been entirely set on begrudgingly flopping back down onto your bed and turning your back to him had you not felt that dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong. You can’t hear his voice and when you turn to get a better look, you find him standing on the fire escape just outside your window, slumped dangerously against the wall with his back to you. It is that dreaded feeling that pushes you out of your bed, drags you to your window which you lightly throw open, only to be met with a sight that leaves you in horrific shock.

Jungkook is adorned in his usual tight red and blue suit, though his mask is off and gives you a clear view of his weary face, now muted in colour, that your eyes land on first. His eyes are shut, his head rests against the brick wall of the building, and his skin is marked with dirt and grime, bruises and dried blood. As your eyes trail lower, following the curve of his arms to his hands that cradle his side, you finally spot the large wound from beneath his fingertips on the left of his abdomen, shimmering a bright crimson red. Immediately your heart sinks to your stomach as you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

Shimmying your way through the window to get closer to the boy hardly has him stirring. Your hands come out to grasp at his face, forcing him from his slouched position.

“Jungkook, can you hear me? What the hell happened?”

His eyes flicker open momentarily at the touch of your warm fingers and he musters a small smirk, the corners of his lips lifting up just slightly.

“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbles hoarsely. “You should definitely see the other guy now.”

“You’re an idiot,” You grumble, your eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Why are you here? You should have gone to the hospital! I’m taking you right now━”

“No, no,” he protests stubbornly. He shifts his weight and immediately flinches from the pain. “No, you can’t. I’ll be okay. I just━ I need some time to rest.”

A deep sigh exhales past your parted lips at the mention of what had happened the night he fled so suddenly. Instead, you brush off the memory and give him a small shake of your head. “Here, stop talking. Let me help you get inside and I’ll see what I can do for you. This is gonna hurt a bit but can you move?”

Jungkook nods. As you wrap your arm carefully around his waist to shift him over to the window, he sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself forward. You try to help as he stiffly climbs in through the small window, grunting in pain as he does so, and then stumbling into your room and bumping into your desk next to the window, knocking a few trinkets down. As he leans dangerously against your now skewed desk, you hurry through the window and help him to his feet, pulling him over to your bed.

Despite the way he had left you so suddenly days ago, there is no air of stiffness in the room. The only thing that surrounds the two of you is a melancholic silence as you rummage around your room for the medkit you knew you had stowed away eons ago. For the most part, Jungkook patches himself up, downing a couple of painkillers, cleaning his wound in his abdomen and stitching it closed with a steady hand that has evidently done this before. You sit across from him in your desk chair, watching him intently as he sits on your bed, having shrugged off the top part of his suit and leaving his torso exposed. Other than the blood and dirt that cakes his golden skin, you take note of the toned muscles that make his abs and the way they flex in tandem with every time he winces as he tugs at his wound.

When he’s done, the silence is still unmoving. Jungkook wants to speak but his throat is dry and any time he dares open his mouth to say something, anything, he immediately recoils. It’s only when you’re helping him into your bathroom so he can take a shower does he finally gather the courage he needed all this time without his mask on. Before you can turn to walk away on him, he catches your attention by calling your name. When he speaks next, his voice is faint, terrified.

“I’m sorry.”

He gulps when you turn to look up at him and suddenly he’s made aware of the fact that the two of you are cramped so closely together in your small bathroom. It makes the shame he feels more prominent as he looks you in the eyes.

“You were the first person I could think of when this happened,” he says. “I━ I know I have no right to be here after what I did to you but I just needed someone. I needed you.”

Your heart flutters at his words though you hide this feeble act by turning away from him. “It’s whatever, Jungkook,” He hears you mumble faintly, your back to him. “Anything I can do to help.”

He wants to say something more but he hesitates again. He watches as you take a deep breath, the heave of your shoulders under a heavy weight, before you ultimately walk out of the door and shut it behind you, leaving it slightly ajar. You linger in your bedroom, standing in front of your window as you gaze out, absentmindedly gnawing on your lower lip as you fold your arms tighter around your torso. You hear the shower switch on, let the calming sound of falling water wash over you, and shut your eyes momentarily. You can still see the light from the bathroom pouring out into the darkness of your room from the angled door, and can see the steam start to cloud the mirror.

There’s something so indistinctly intimate about having him in your shower in the next room over after days of avoiding one another. You have every right to be enraged and upset with him and yet you aren’t. You can’t bring yourself to ever hate the boy in the room over. You understand why he left so abruptly and it makes sense but now, in that moment in time, with nothing but a wall dividing you two, there is a certain type of craving you can’t subdue. A craving and a yearning to be closer to him; to tell him how you feel before, if even, he decides to flee in the morning after.

You blame it on your stubbornness that pushes you forward. Really, it seems to happen in such a haze, a rush of adrenaline. One moment, you’re standing by the window; in the next moment, you’re by the bathroom door, your fingers clutching the handle. As you push it open, you can only see a misty silhouette of Jungkook’s figure from beyond the steamed glass doors of the shower. Your heart is hammering against your chest as you walk to the shower, slowly kicking off your shorts as you go.

Jungkook must hear you as you make your way into the bathroom because as soon as you carefully slide open the glass door, he’s already staring at you with a lack of surprise, noting the baggy t-shirt you wear and the way his heart flips when he imagines you in a similar shirt of his. You only meet his curious eyes, noting the water that trickles down his toned and glistening body and flattens his usual unkempt hair into his lashes. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and suddenly he looks remorseful. It’s almost as if he can read your mind and anticipates every second you take to just step inside, his eyes beckoning you to come. It’s not like he cares; in fact, he wants you next to him. God, he just wants you so bad.

Steady hands find the hem of your baggy white t-shirt that you lift up and over your head, exposing the smooth expanse of your bare stomach and the perk of your bare breasts. You shimmy out of your baby pink underwear and, suddenly, you’re standing completely vulnerable before him and yet this is all he wants and all you want. You step inside the shower, closing the distance between you and him even more until you’re right in front of him, letting the warm water pour down onto you. It’s become stifling hot in that little space and there’s only a split moment where you fear you’ve made a mistake before you feel Jungkook’s hand come up to gently hold the side of your face. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes gazing into yours, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s a soft kiss, one where he takes his time to thoroughly enjoy it, first kissing your upper lip, then your lower lip in some sort of sensual manner that leaves chills running down your spine. He leaves a trail of warm and wet kisses from your jawline to your neck, nuzzling his nose against your throat as your breath catches. His hands fall to grasp at your hips, yanking you toward him and you so easily comply, melting completely into his broad chest and immediately feeling a sense of warmth as if you’ve always belonged there, wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re blushing,” he remarks gently, making you realize he’s pulled apart from you to study your face. His fingers brush away the hair that falls into your eyes and he smiles. “You’re blushing now after you walked in on me naked? God, you’re so cute.”

You whine something in protest, burying your face in his neck and he laughs. His fingers tickle at your sides, causing you to squirm in his grip, and when you look at him again, his stare is tender and fond.

“Come here,” he mumbles.

You let him pull you into another kiss that has your head spinning. His tongue grazes your lower lip, teeth slightly nibbling down on the flesh in a way that jolts your heart. As your hands snake up his chest to wind with the hair at the nape of his neck, your own mouth parts open, letting his tongue twine with yours in a heated kiss. He can feel everything against his own body, from the perk of your breasts to the slope of your hips. His hands slide down to rest upon your lower back and the way he pulls you flush against him, letting you brush against his firm cock, makes your head spin again. It’s what wills you to start grinding your hips against his in a slow pattern that has his breath hitching in his throat, his fingers digging tighter into your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” his voice is husky as he speaks, smooth as it filters through your ears.

You can’t help but smirk against his mouth. “Likewise.”

“How about we get out of here?” he asks. “The bed seems a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

You nod eagerly, mumbling a small, “Please,” against his luscious lips, too reluctant to pull away. He seems to have trouble, too, as he remains in his spot, even long after he reaches down to turn the water off, his lips still locked with yours. Granted, it gives you time to dry off before he’s hoisting you up with ease, instinctively letting your legs wrap around him. A thought abruptly pops into your head and causes you to gasp, your lips parting from his with a significant pop.

“Jungkook!” You scold. “Be careful! Did you forget about the gaping wound in your side or?”

“I’m fine,” he assures, already swiftly carrying you out of the bathroom and into your room.

“I don’t care what your magical radioactive spider bite does for you,” You retort. “I don’t want to somehow hurt you.”

He laughs in response, a sound that reverberates against his chest and your own torso. He’s already standing by the bed when he carefully lowers you down onto it. He crawls over you, instantly towering over your body as he leans down to chase your lips. In one quick movement, you hook your leg around his waist and, using your hands, shift him over until he’s on his back and you’re cradling his hips. He seems surprised at first, his stare flickering from the navel of your stomach to the soft buds of your breasts. Past the valley of your chest, his eyes fall once more upon yours and he smiles breathlessly, his hair sticking up in tufts.

“Really?”

Your eyes fall to the stitched wound on his side covered in gauze and your fingers brush against it delicately, following the natural curve of his abs. “I’m serious, bugboy. You may be this notorious, unstoppable force out there, but to me you’ll always be Jungkook.”

He pouts. “That doesn’t sound as cool as being Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man is cool.”

“See? Even you think so. This is why I never told you ━ everyone thinks Spider-Man is cooler than Jungkook.”

A roll of your eyes has him smirking, though the smile is quick to falter when you begin to grind your hips against his, feeling his firm member poke at your thigh. His jaw drops open slightly at the sudden contact, his brows knitting together in slick concentration as his eyes fall to your glistening soft core.

“You didn’t let me finish,” You breathe steadily. “Spider-Man is cool, but Jungkook is cooler. You’ve always been strong and dauntless to me. You’ve always been a hero to me.”

“God,” he moans, “you’re making it really hard to focus on how cute you’re being when I can already feel how wet you are.”

The giggle that slips past your lips only further proves his point. His head rolls back against the pillows beneath him as you continue to slowly grind against him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

“No, no,” he gasps. “Holy shit, no. We can save the mushy talk for afterwards, right? Please?”

You nod briskly, gulping for air as you feel the burning sensation between your thighs. Your fingers dance down the front of your stomach to the bundle of nerves that you rub at carefully. Jungkook watches intensely as you pleasure yourself before him, feels his own cock hardening at the sight of your fingers gracefully rubbing patterns into your clit, coating your digits with your leaking cum. He writhes beneath you, desperately aware of his own need for you, but god help him if he doesn’t finish watching or helping you get off. He swallows thickly, loosening his dry throat.

“Well, if you’re gonna make me sit here then,” he says, “can you at least let me help?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good,” he grins. “Then come sit on my face.”

He says it so confidently that it has you stuttering in your pace. Your eyes flicker down to his mischievously twinkling eyes and the way he bites on his lower lip. You hardly hesitate at his command, pushing yourself off of his crotch and shuffling yourself forward, tossing one knee over his head so that he’s seated nicely between your thighs. His hands remain on your hips to keep you steady as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, murmuring, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Sit back and relax.”

You do as you're told, letting him pull you carefully down to his face and feeling as he leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh. When his mouth is hovering just over your core, you can feel his warm breath fanning against you and hum in delight, waiting eagerly for his every move. He nudges you closer and closer until you feel that one fell sweep of his tongue against your core, warm and slick as it grazes your folds, immediately sending a shock of white hot pleasure surging through your body. A shocked moan emits from your parted lips in a sound similar to, “Ooh,” that has Jungkook smirking against you.

Suddenly, all you can focus on is him and the way his tongue works so expertly against you, kitten licking at your core until you’re dripping wet in a lewd combination of saliva and your own succulence. You nearly lose your balance the moment he makes contact with you and, with each passing second of immense pleasure, it makes it more difficult to hold on. Your thighs shamelessly squeeze shut (though Jungkook grips lightly onto one of your thighs to shift you apart) and when you feel yourself wobble, breathless and dizzy from the feeling of hot fire burning at your core, your hands fly out to grasp at Jungkook’s carob locks, silky to the touch as they slide out from the seams of your fingers. Admittedly, having Jungkook’s face buried beneath your thighs is a ridiculously hot sight that only spurs your blatant spiral into a panting mess.

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

The moan that leaves you is throaty, guttural and Jungkook swears he’s never heard anything sexier. Watching you writhe helplessly above him is all that he needs. As his tongue licks firmly at your clit, he can’t help but reach down to his own hard dick. His fingers wrap delicately around his shaft and he pumps himself slowly, groaning into your womanhood at the thought of your delicious and hot walls wrapped around him. He shuts his eyes as he works in a smooth rhythm against both him and yourself, imagining what it would be like to just have you anyway he wants, imagining your own reactions similar to the ones you’re making now.

“Ah, shit━” You gasp suddenly. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good━”

God, there you go again. His palm squeezes harder against his member at your breathy moans and he swears you’re driving him absolutely mad. To him, this feels so surreal. He’s dreamed of this; he’s dreamed and wanted nothing more innocent than to just fucking hold your hand and yet here you are in such a compromising position with him and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world. The best part about it all is that you make him feel this much bliss, this dizzy, when he’s simply just around you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you.

Your fingers clutch a little tighter at his roots and his eyes snap open. He stares up at your frazzled mess and, with his free hand, presses his fingers against your core in areas that his tongue has yet not reached. He coats his digits in your glistening arousal and coaxed with such ease he’s able to push them past your folds, earning another beautiful moan from you. He curls his finger inside you, stretching your core, flicks his tongue a little harder at your clit, squeezes his own hand tighter around his cock as he desperately jacks himself off to this, to you. He pumps his finger in and out of you in tandem with his own hand around his length, hearing your sweet whimpers and choked moans.

He must curl his finger just right inside of you or maybe it’s the way your sensitive clit begins to throb with each lick he takes or maybe it’s when he joins his tongue with his finger in a dangerous duo but then you jut your hips forward ever so slightly and jerk them back. He’s eating you out with such vigour, such hard passion that you can feel his chin and his nose brush against your core and each contact has you gasping. He pulls apart just enough when he feels you jerk your hips backward again and you’re so caught up in the pure ecstasy that has overcome you that you hardly realize until you hear him speaking, muttering faintly against your folds, “C’mon, baby. Ride my face. Cum for me.”

His only response is a weak sputtering as you try to gasp for air. You don’t need to be told twice at this point as you feel as if you’re chasing after your high. You unabashedly begin rocking your hips against his mouth and fingers. He tilts his head just right so that his nose burrows into your clit, his tongue and digit slipping further within your walls that clench around the thought of having something of girth like Jungkook’s length inside you. Jungkook’s own hand slacks at his pace around his member, his fingers reaching up to dig into your waist and thighs to hold you in place as you continuously rock against him. You’re so close, you can feel the familiar tension start to form in the very pit of your stomach.

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

Your voice breaks off into frail croaks, your hands flying out to grab onto the sturdy frame of your bed in front of you as you feel your high approach. Jungkook pulls you harder against his face, letting you grind against him as he burrows into you, completely ravaging you with his mouth until you feel your release take hold of you. It shakes you to the bone, causes you to writhe in pleasure above him as you come to a halt, emitting a loud moan of his name as your hot release leaks onto his chin, coating his mouth in your shimmering cum.

“Fuck, fuck━ Jungkook!” Your nails dig into the bed frame, your teeth sinking into your lower lip and muffling your dulcet moans.

He laps at your core, licking away every last drop of your succulence until your hips twitch away from the sensitivity you feel. When he finally pulls apart from you, he stares up at you from between your thighs with an amused smirk, his hair messily mused from your doing. You muster a faint smile in return as you pant heavily, attempting to calm your shrill heart and he beckons you over. You blissfully clamber back down his torso, once more straddling his hips as you curl up into his chest, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your own mouth and it’s something so gentle, so ardent, that it warms your heart.

“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles between kisses. “Round two?”

Giggling, you part from him momentarily only to reconnect your lips to his jawline, nibbling on the soft skin there. “How about I let you have a turn?”

He quirks a brow in curiosity though he already knows your intentions as your hand flutters down his stomach. He can’t help the moan that slips past his lips as he feels your soft hands grasp firmly at his hardened cock. He feels as if he could practically melt in your hands or explode at any moment and you hadn’t even done anything. His hips instinctively buck into your fist but he shakes his head. He sits up suddenly, startling you in your spot though his hands come out to grasp at your face and hold you in place as he kisses you feverishly.

“How about,” he breathes, nipping at your lower lip, “you let me make love to you right here, right now.”

For a moment, you become carried away with the taste of his lips mingled with your wet arousal that fades away fast. You return the kiss with such zeal, too reluctant to part from him just yet, that when you muster the nerve to lean away, you’re panting heavily.

“Not so fast, bugboy,” You taunt. “I still want you to rest.”

You give him a little nudge backward and he obediently follows your wordless command, plopping back against the pillows of your bed as he looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs.

“I don’t know if you can consider sex as resting,” he points out playfully, a wry grin plastered on his face.

He watches as you smile, the rapid heave and fall of your chest, as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable again on his lap and have lifted your hips off of him. Your hand wraps around his shaft once more and you pump him once, twice, in slow motions as you spread the leaking cum from his throbbing head along his shaft. His jaw drops open at the feeling, eyebrows knitting together, and his fingers dig a little too harshly into your skin accidentally but you don’t at all mind ━ not when you’re able to see such a beautiful reaction from him as he comes undone before you.

Seconds pass of bated breath as you lower yourself slowly, carefully, to his cock. You run the tip of his length along your folds and up to your clit, rubbing small patterns against it that has both of you whimpering lowly. You coat him in your leaking arousal and then lower yourself onto him, finally connecting the two of your bodies as one.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

Jungkook seriously feels as if he’s about to explode ━ literally. You’ve only just sat on him and he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself together long enough before he feels his sweet release. You’re just so warm and wet, so deliciously wet, that he slides easily into your walls that hug him just right. His mind is spinning, and even more so when he feels you stop halfway and lift your hips again. You drop them to the same level and then back again, repeating this process until you drop your hips fully, flush with his.

“Oooh, Jungkook, hmm,” Your fingers dig into his abdomen at the feeling of being so damn full. You can practically feel him throbbing and your own walls clench and release around him as you adjust to his size.

“Move━” he chokes out. “Move, please━ holy shit━”

And you do. You grind against him, rolling your hips around his firm cock as the fire continues to burn between your legs. You raise your hips languidly and drop them back down again and again until you’ve adopted some fluid rhythm, being so easily coaxed by your own cum.

“Like this?” You gasp.

He nods absentmindedly, swallowing thickly. “Fuck yes, just like that, baby.” His head rolls back against the pillows, the vein in his neck straining, “You feel so━ so fucking good.”

“Tell me,” You breathe.

Jungkook finds it hard to concentrate when his eyes fall on you. He watches as your breasts move in tandem as you ride him, the glistening arousal on your folds that coat his length that he watches disappear into you each time. He greedily reaches out as he’s lost in his own thoughts, his hand cupping your plush breast in a firm hold, his thumb brushing against your perked nipple. Your back arches in response, leaning closer to his warm hand, as he focuses on the tightness that is your core.

“Warm,” he moans. “So, so fucking wet ━ oh my god, you’re dripping, baby. Shit, you feel so perfect around my cock.”

You cry out his name, quickening your pace as you chase your high. Your strides are relentless, desperately searching for a sweet release and Jungkook feels the same. He’s held it in this long ━ he isn’t so sure he can hold himself together for much longer. He can’t take it anymore. Just as he feels you slowing down from exhaustion, he sits up once more, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you tight against his chest. Your own arms slide around his neck and you lean forward to crash your lips against his as you roll your hips steadily against his now. The new angle has him hitting a spot in you that shakes you to the core, has stars forming in your eyes.

You bite down hard on his lower lip accidentally as you try to conceal the loud moan that bubbles at your lips. Jungkook only smirks in response, especially when you shamelessly let those strangled moans out. As you sink lower onto him, Jungkook thrusts his hips upward to meet yours halfway, earning a sharp gasp from you. He tightens his hold on you and continues to thrust up into you again and again, so hard and so fast that it makes you writhe with pleasure above him. You can feel him stretching you wide each time, can feel your sticky arousal begin to trickle down his cock and your thighs.

So much for making sure he doesn’t hurt himself again ━ his thrusts are pure animalistic, hasty and needy, though all either of you care about in that moment is feeling that sweet release. You collapse entirely against Jungkook’s arms, letting him take hold of you as his hips smack against your ass. When you finally feel your second high of the night approach, your reaction feels near explosive. He thrusts again and again and you choke out somewhere between the sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing, “J━Jungkook━ Fuck! I’m close━”

He growls in response, eager to push you to yours as he chases for his. Another thrust and, holy shit, there. He hits a spot in you once, twice, and over and over again that just feels so incredibly good that you can’t help but unravel in his arms. It takes you by surprise, washing over you an immense cloud of bliss as white-hot pleasure blinds you, starting from your core and spiralling out to every edge of your body until your toes are curling. You cry out his name in a beautiful harmonious sound as your cum leaks profusely from you and coats him just right.

Fuck this ━ he doesn’t care anymore that you want him to rest. He needs to feel his own release now. So he grabs you securely and then he’s twisting you around, shoving you onto your back as he pushes his hips into you. You’re writhing beneath him, your back arching until your warm and sweaty chest is pressed against his. Your fucked out expression that stares back up at him but with such tired and loving eyes only spurs him on further (that, and the way you’re clenching so nicely around him). It’s completely messy but he’s so close. Another hard slap of his hips and then he’s finally coming undone. He pulls out of you fast, his hand coming down to grab at his cock as he pumps himself, thickly coated with your juices.

He cums moments later with a deep, rough moan, releasing onto your stomach in ivory beads that paint you his. His hand slacks around his softening length and then he, so spent and slightly sore from his wound (only slightly, he swears), collapses against you. The room suddenly falls silent, safe for the heavy panting and the shrill beating of your hearts that you both try to tame. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms wrap around him to lazily twine his hair with your fingers. It’s nice to just lay there like that, enveloped in each other's arms, basking in the heavenly glow of euphoria. He kisses your neck then, soft and simple, and litters kisses down your throat to your collarbones and then back up again to your lips.

When he parts from you, his eyes remain locked on your mouth until he forces himself to look away and up at you. You’re smiling at him and it’s the type of genuine, albeit exhausted, smile that always warms his insides and makes him feel at ease. Tracing the curve of your lips with his index finger, he hums thoughtfully to himself.

“I lied about before,” he says sheepishly. When you quirk a brow at him, he continues. “I lied about before when you asked me if I’m ever afraid when I go out at night. I’m always afraid. Part of why I wear that mask is so the people I’m up against don’t see me wimping out. But, god, when I’m with you, I feel invincible.”

He watches as a light blush pinches at your cheeks, your fingers reaching up to softly graze his cheek.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “I love you. I always have and I swear you make me stronger. I don’t know what it is. I think I just want to fight harder for you. I know I was a dick for leaving that night but I know we can make this work. I just need you to believe in me, too.”

Your eyes, littered with stardust, stare into his as if he is the entire world. “I’m strong, too, Jungkook. I don’t always need protection.”

“I know that,” he chuckles.

“Good. Then get back down here and kiss me again, bugboy.”

Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t hesitate to lean down to press his lips lovingly to yours. He melts against your chest and he is content if every night is like this, in each other’s arms. As he deepens the kiss, he hears you whisper against his lips, “I love you, too, bugboy,” and it is all he needs to feel as if he has the world in his very palm.

Jungkook has always been afraid. He is afraid of not living to see the next day, afraid of losing you or his family or friends but every shred of fear fades away when he’s with you. As the city continues to breathe from beyond the brick walls of your apartment and as the sun begins to rise from the very heart of the metropolis along the horizon, Jungkook is certain that he and you together are invincible.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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tom-holland-parker · 3 years

Text

I Wanna Wear Your Tie

Request: Can you please do a professor tom x student reader, she’s of age of course, and he takes a liking to her for being so smart and he can barely contain himself with every outfit she wears. And one day after class he asks her to hang back and things get very SMUTTY?

Warning: 18 + SMUT (oral, choking, vaginal sex), student/teacher relationship, cursing, age gap (legal)

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Word count: 4081

Masterlist

Tom knew from the first time you walked into class he was going to have a hard time. Not because you were a trouble maker, he heard from your other professors that you were an extremely bright and well rounded student, but because you liked to wear the shortest sundresses he’d ever seen. Tom knew he fucked up by developing a crush on his student. It was immoral and he could lose the job he worked so hard to get.

Tom had been staring at the email all weekend, debating all his choices. He knew the right thing to do was to report it and let the school handle everything, but a big part of him told himself to do otherwise.

Dear Professor Holland,

I want to wear your tie while you fuck me

Love Y/N

Tom let out a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, refreshing his inbox once more in hopes you had sent another email, an explanation or maybe even an apology, anything that would avoid him having to send the response that he had drafted Friday night after he received your message. Of course as the hours passed he knew that hoping was pointless, Tom sighed looking over his drafted email for what seemed like the 100th time before hitting send.

Ms. Y/L/N

In regards to your last email I have no choice but to report it to the school. I do, however, acknowledge that you are one of my highest scoring students so it is only fair that I give you a chance to explain yourself. Please meet me in my office Monday after class

Professor Holland

Little did Tom know you were freaking out, spending Saturday nursing your hangover from partying Friday night. It was a drunken mistake, you would’ve never sent the email had you been sober but leave it to the vodka to let you do something stupid.

You had one day to come up with some apology and still couldn’t find the right words. Countless drafts saved in your notes app, but none good enough to express the regret you felt by sending that email. Of course time wasn’t on your side and the hours moved faster than usual. Finally it was Monday afternoon and you sat in your door waiting for your final class of the day, his class

“Maybe if you just tell him it was a mistake he’ll understand” Your roommate Kendra laughed as she looked at your computer, you’d been rereading the email for hours, hoping it would go away. Glancing at the clock you sighed, “I have his class in an hour, how am I going to face him”

“You could skip”

“I’m already in enough trouble as it is I can’t skip class” You sighed, closing the laptop as you moved to put on your shoes, “I’ll just give the best apology he’s ever heard of and hopefully it’ll all work out”

Kendra chuckled, “who knows maybe you’ll get exactly what you wanted”. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll text you after class”

///

Tom watched as you entered class, his eyes trailing over your outfit, you were wearing his favorite dress, white with blue flowers. He chuckled at your innocent appearance but frowned when he noticed you taking a seat in the back instead of your usual seat in the front.

You showed up to class right on time, looking at your feet to avoid any eye contact with Tom. It was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was that stupid email. It didn’t help that he was wearing a tie today, the same tie you’d imagine him gagging you with on most nights. You shook your head trying to focus on forming an apology that wasn’t absolutely pathetic

“Alright class is over, If you have any questions about the assignment you can” his gaze shifted towards you, “email me”

Your eyes widened as you distracted yourself by putting your things in your bag. As if the universe wanted to see you completely embarrass yourself in front of the teacher you’d been crushing on all semester, you piled out the class with the rest of the students, trudging down the hallway towards his office. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, pacing back and forth as you tried to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you knocked on the door

“Come in” You heard his muffled voice from behind the door. You took a deep breath as you twisted the door knob walking into the well lit office.

“Hi Professor, you said you needed to see me” You say trying to seem innocent. He cleared his throat pointing to the leather seat in front of his desk, “Please have a seat”

Slowly you make your way to the seat, placing your bag on the floor as you stare at him. Tom took a deep breath, opening the email as he passed you his laptop, “When I get an email from my brightest student I expected a question about her latest essay not this”

Your face heated in embarrassment as you handed him the laptop, “Professor I’m so sorry I was very drunk Friday night and I know that isn’t an excuse but I didn’t mean to send that. If I could take it back I would just please don’t report this”

Tom watched as tears slowly began to trail down your face, “y/n I’m not going to report you”.

You looked at him in disbelief, “Seriously”

“but you’re not getting off that easily” He closed his laptop, “You’ll be spending the week and your weekend helping me grade papers”

You let out a sigh of relief, “thank you professor I’m really sorry it ever happened”

Tom chuckled, “You’re one of the smartest girls in my class. I would hate to see you get in trouble because of one drunk mistake” You wiped your tears away, feeling yourself relax now that you knew you weren’t going to be in too much trouble. “After all you’re only young once, just try to keep your thoughts in a diary and not your emails”

You chuckled, picking up your bag as you got up to leave, “will do professor”

///

Tom instantly regretted his decision. Don’t get him wrong, having the extra help was amazing but it was hard to concentrate when all you wore were short dresses. He spent all week sitting at his desk, too afraid to get up for fear that his body would betray him and you see the hard on he was trying desperately to get rid of. Seeing you in class was hard enough but when he watched you in what seemed like your natural element it changed something in him.

He watched as you sat on the couch in his office, your hair tied back and your glasses slowly sliding down your face, every once in a while you had to push them back in place. Tom couldn’t help but smile at the faces you made while reading the essays, a look of annoyance when you read over an obvious mistake or the way your eyebrows furrowed when you wrote the feedback. He tried his hardest to keep his laughter inside whenever you got distracted and drew little faces in the margins. He hated to admit it, it made him feel terrible, but he was a professor falling for his student

“Professor I’m not sure about this” You said getting up from the couch as you walked towards his desk. Your voice knocked him out of his trance as he watched you hand the paper to him, “See the evidence goes along with the topic sentence but the explanation is still choppy”

You watched as Tom took the paper from you, your breathing hitching when his hands grazed over yours. You shook your head reminding yourself that you were already here because your stupid feelings and if you kept letting yourself indulge in what was supposed to be your punishment you were going to end up in the deans office.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said looking over the paper, “just circle the paragraph and place it in the pile and I’ll look over it later.” He looked up, surprised to see how close you were to him, your chest inches away from his face. It was just his luck that you decided to wear a low cut dress today.

“Okay” You replied, taking the paper from him as you slowly moved back to the couch. Tom glanced at the clock noticing how late it was getting, “Well it’s getting late and you probably want to spend the you weekend somewhere way entertaining than here so you can leave, punishment over”

“Are you sure? I still owe you two more days and it doesn’t feel fair to end my punishment early” You said, grabbing another paper. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay because it actually felt unfair or if you really just wanted an excuse to keep spending time with him.

“Well if you insist, '' he chuckled, a part of him happy that you weren’t eager to leave, “But we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk you out”

You gathered your things, meeting Tom at the door where he waited for you, his hand resting on your back as he guided you out the room, locking the door behind him. “It’s dark, I’ll walk you to your car, Where are you parked?” Tom said looking at the parked cars on the street

“I don’t drive” You said awkwardly, “But my dorm is only a few blocks away from here I don’t mind walking”

Tom shook his head, “No way I’m letting you walk, it's too dangerous, I’ll drive you.” You watched as he took his keys out his pocket unlocking the black BMW parked across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way” you looked down on your feet, here you were again too flustered to even look at him. Tom chuckled at your nervousness, “Don’t worry about it. I insist on it.” Your breath hitched as he placed his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the car.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to your dorm building, “well here we are” He said, parking his car before looking at you. You glanced at him nervously, “Thanks Professor”

“Call me Tom” he chuckled, “But only when were alone”

You wanted to punch yourself for feeling butterflies but you couldn’t help it. “Well Tom” You laughed, calling him by his name felt weird, “thank you”

He watched as you moved to grab the door handle but froze, “Oh I forgot to ask you about your assignment”

“What’s up?” he shrugged. “Well I know you wanted us to write about how the author uses the women in his novel to display power but I can’t write about that. The author clearly doesn’t see the woman as symbols of power he sees them as sex objects, which is shown multiple times throughout the text so I can’t write about something that isn’t true”

“So you don’t believe sex is a form of power?” Tom questioned trying not to smile at the way your brows furrowed in concentration

“Of course I believe sex is a form of power but for the author to display women having sex as a symbol for powerful femininity the woman would have to own their sexual desires and wants”

Tom chuckled, “If you really feel so strongly about that then write about it, I’d love to hear more about what you have to say about owning your sexual desires. Seems to me you know a lot about that”

“Oh my god” You hide your face in your hands, “I didn’t even realize-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, if you can’t joke about it then you’ll let it eat you alive” Tom chuckled

“Well” you smiled, “I should probably get to writing”

“Yeah you should”

You both didn’t even noticed the way you both began to slowly lean into each other, the tension in the car growing thick

“Goodnight professor”

“It’s Tom” He said with a smile

You scrunch your nose, “Goodnight Tom”

Your faces were inches away from each other. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your lips before looking back at your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same, “Goodnight y/n”

You both stayed silent, letting the tension take over. Your lips grazing over each other. The kiss was slow at first but it soon progressed into passionate open mouth kisses, both of you giving into your desires.

Your hands reached to grab his face, shocked at how soft his cheeks felt. “Wait wait wait” Tom said, pulling away slowly.

You caught your breath, wiping your lips as you moved back into your seat, “I should probably go”

Before Tom could say a word you were out the car rushing towards the dorm building. “Fuck” he said to himself as he leaned back into his seat. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he kissed you.

///

When you knocked on Tom’s office door the next day you were even more nervous than you were Monday. You were too embarrassed and instead of facing the problem head on you did what you did best, ignored it.

You spent the afternoon on the couch, headphones on as an excuse to block out Tom. If you had a question you didn’t ask it and when you had a comment you didn’t say it. It was pure torture for you and Tom, yet you both chose to ignore the elephant in the room.

As the hours passed and the sun began to set Tom’s patience was growing thin. He couldn’t pretend like the kiss never happened, and if he was being honest with himself he wanted more.

You sighed in frustration, as hard as you tried to concentrate on the papers in front of you, you just couldn’t. Thoughts about last night flooded your brain making it hard to concentrate on even the simplest sentences. You threw the paper on the couch, ripping your headphones off, “I’m sorry but this silence is killing me, can we just get this awkward conversation over with”

“Alright well” Tom stared at you, unsure what to say. Yes he felt wrong but he also didn’t care. He got a taste of you and now he wanted more, “I apologize for what happened, it was completely unprofessional on my part”

You cleared your throat trying to find the right response, “yeah, well, I'm sorry too, we were both in the wrong and it shouldn’t have happened and I’m really hoping we can just move past this”

“Yes I agree” Tom nodded his head, “So how are those papers coming along?”

You shrugged, sitting down in the exact leather chair you’d sat in on Monday, “There needs to be a study group or something, I mean if this is the writing skills of our future world leaders I’m honestly a little concerned”

Tom chuckled, his hands instinctively reaching for his tie, something you noticed he did subconsciously. Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fluttered, “god get a grip girl” You thought as you blinked your lust filled thought away.

Tom smirked, noticing your reaction to the way you reacted to him, “Yes well not everyone has an easy time with writing as you do”. He touched his tie again, this time tugging on the knot a little.

Your breath hitched as your brain went foggy. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as you shook your head, “Well I’m not that great of a writer, I mean I have countless drafts that no one sees”

“Really?” Tom played with his tie, loving how much the simple habit affected you, “How many drafts did you make before you sent that email?”

Your eyes widening in surprise, “no drafts. Drunk me is the best writer”

Tom smiled, getting up from his seat as he moved to stand in front of you. You watched as he leaned against his desk. You bit your lip as you leaned back into the chair, enjoying the way that Tom seemed so much taller than you.

“You know you probably shouldn’t say that to your professor”

You smirked, “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t say to my professor” You were playing with fire but the heat felt too good, it made you want to know what the burn felt like. “Fuck it, what’ve you got to lose” You thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Tom’s eyebrow raised in question as he leaned down towards you, his face only inches from you, “things like what?”

You smiled bringing your lips close to his ear, “Like how much I want you to fuck me”

The groan that left Tom had your thighs clenching together, “Yeah you definitely shouldn’t tell me that.” You chuckled as you leaned back in the seat, Tom’s eyes moved over your body like you were a work of art, “but then again as a teacher I probably shouldn’t want to fuck my student so badly”

Your lips parted in surprise as Tom smirked, his fingers gently trailing up your thigh. Your breath hitched in anticipation but a disappointed sigh left your mouth when his hand didn’t move past the hem of your short dress. “If this happens no one can know”

You nodded your head as his hand grabbed your chin, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Words darling”

“No one finds out” You gulped, your body frozen. You could feel yourself getting wet from the power he held over you. The feeling of his having control over you was intoxicating

“And you understand that I will never use this against you? You can leave right now and I will forget this ever happened and we can go right back to our normal professional student-teacher relationship”

“I understand professor” You nodded, wanting nothing more than for his hands to be all over you.

“Good girl” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “Now go sit on my desk and spread those legs”

You smiled, quickly doing as you were told. Tom chuckled, amused by your excitement. You watched as he got on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he places kisses up your thighs, occasionally leaving a mark that would stay for days to come. “You’re so wet, all this over a couple of kisses?” He teased

Before you could answer Tom moved your underwear aside, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. You moaned, your hand instinctively reaching for his hair. “I knew you would taste good,” He said, licking his lips. He ate you like you were his last meal, licking and slurping you like a starving man.

You’d never been more thankful that the school was empty on Saturdays, no one around to hear the moans that Tom was coaxing out of you. “Oh god” Your hips shamelessly bucking against his face as he pulled your legs onto his shoulder.

“Tom please” You whimpered as his tongue slowed down to a teasing pace. He groaned, his large hand slapping your thigh, “It’s professor.” His voice was demanding and powerful. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers stretched you, toes curling as he effortlessly found your g-spot. “Professor please I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me baby” He moaned, “I want your cum all over my face”

His fingers moved faster as you reached your breaking point, loud moans leaving your mouth as your back arched. You could feel Tom smirking against your clit as your legs began to slightly shake.

“You sound so pretty when you cum” Tom said as he stood up, your cum making his face glisten in the last bits of light that came from the windows of the office. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer as you licked your cum off his face.

“Someone’s eager” He joked as you kissed down his neck. “Hmm I can’t help it, you just look so sexy with my cum on your face. Plus I’ve been wanting this all semester so are you gonna give me what I want or am I gonna have to get it from someone else”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he grabbed your wrist, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll edge you all night and leave you with nothing”

You whimpered as Tom pulled you off the desk, “Now if I remember correctly,” you watched as he loosened his tie, “You wanted to wear this.” You nodded your head, watching as he took off the blue and white tie, taking a deep breath as he placed it around your neck.

“And as much as I love you in this dress, I think I’d prefer for you to be out of it” He smirked. You chuckled, turning around so he could unzip the dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Tom’s arms snaked around your body he pulled your back into his. His fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive area. You bit your lip, rubbing your ass against his hard on, your pussy desperate for more attention.

“Professor” You wined, “I want you”

“So needy baby” He chuckled against your skin as he kissed up your shoulder and neck, “Don’t worry, you’ve been a good girl I won’t tease you too much”

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hand twisted the tie, making it tighter around your throat, “Is this okay?” You nodded, wincing when his hand roughly slapped your ass, “Come on sweetheart you're smart enough to know that when I ask a question I expect an answer. Now use your words”

“Yes Professor” You said moaning as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just hit. Tom quickly unbuckled his pants, pushing them down as he aligned himself with you. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock on your clit, loving the low whimpers that escaped your mouth as your hips jolted up.

Tom’s grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down into the desk as he bottomed you out. You moaned loudly as he began to thrust into you, “This is what you wanted right? Your professor fucking you like a slut”

You gripped the desk, trying your best to keep your balance. Tom gripped the tie again, the fabric pulling your head back. “Faster please Professor” You begged as you moved your hips.

His hips sped up as his hand moved in front of you tracing figure eights on your clit. You became light headed from how tight the tie was but you couldn’t care less it all felt too good. “Sir Please It’s too much I’m gonna cum”

“Go on baby cum on my cock, give it to me” Tom sped up, becoming needier as he came closer to cumming. He pulled your body into his, fucking up into you as he kissed the harsh line where the tie met your skin. The sensation was too much for you as you came, your walls squeezing Tom, milking his cock of all his cum as he came shortly after you.

Your body went limp, leaning against the desk so you didn’t fall to the floor. Tom sighed, pulling out of you, groaning when he saw his cum leaking out your abused hole. “You did so good” Tom whispered as he kissed up your spine, “Such a good girl for me”

You slowly got up, turning around to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom smiled, picking you up and moving you to the couch, where you sat cuddled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, still placing kisses all over your body

“I’m cold” You said, your head resting against his shoulder. He chuckled, quickly grabbing his jacket from his chair before returning to your tired body. You laid in his lap with his jacket wrapped around you, Tom’s hand running up and down your spine as he kissed your forehead.

You glanced at the clock, “it’s getting late”

Tom sighed, “let’s just stay like this for a little while, then we’ll get you dressed and I’ll drive you to your dorm”

1K notes · View notes

lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

Cat and Mouse Game - Fred Weasley

Title: Cat and Mouse Game Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, mentions of masturbation, semi-public sex, fingerfucking, unprotected sex A/N: I have a lot of feelings about Fred Weasley and very few of them are innocent. This is like 95% filth with some fluff thrown in at the end because I love Fred Weasley and he’s my only source of serotonin.

Tags: @tonksichu

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They’ve been playing the same game of cat and mouse since their Hogwarts days. They’d take turns leaving flirty notes for the other to find, grabbing the other’s hand under the table at dinner, pulling the other into a dark corridor for a few minutes of stolen kisses. Not much has changed between them since then, although their games are far less innocent.

“Mail’s here!” Verity calls from somewhere in the shop.

Fred doesn’t move a muscle, his focus completely taken up by the potion he’s stirring in front of him. He and George have been working on a new product for weeks, a candy infused with truth serum that only lasts for one question – the perfect addition to any game of truth or dare. They had planned on launching it next week, but they’re still having problems getting the formula of the truth serum just right.

“For fucks sake,” he mutters to himself when a puff of black smoke rises out of the cauldron. “Too much dandelion root.” He shoves himself away from his desk, stalking over to the sink so he can start over again. He’s so focused on scrubbing that he doesn’t hear George come in.

“Not going well, eh?” George asks, chuckling when Fred drops the cauldron, clearly startled by his brother’s sudden presence.

“I’m going to make you wear a bell for Merlin’s sake. You scared the shit out of me,” Fred groans, picking the cauldron back up. He rinses it one more time before stalking back to his desk. He’s about to start working again, when he notices that George is still standing in front of him. “Did you need something? Or are you just gonna stand there to annoy me?”

George smiles at his brother. Partially because he finds his frustrated demeanor amusing, but mostly because it’ll annoy Fred further. “Oh, I just popped in to bring you your mail.”

Fred rolls his eyes, getting back to work. “Just put it in the tray, I’ll get to it later.” He gestures lazily to the incoming work tray on the corner of his desk, which has started to pile up. He’s going over his notes so he can adjust the amount of dandelion root for the fifth time, when George shoves a letter into his line of vision.

“Actually, dear brother of mine I think you’ll notice that this particular letter requires your immediate attention,” George snickers. He drops the letter on the desk, and with a waggle of his fingers he’s gone.

Fred had only gotten a glimpse of the envelope, but as soon as George has closed the door behind him he pushes his work aside to pick it up. He recognized Y/N’s delicate writing immediately, he had become quite familiar with it during their time together at school.

In fact, he’s been waiting for this letter for the past three weeks. That’s how it is with them. One of them is the aggressor while the other waits for the next letter, waits for the details of their next meeting. It had been Fred’s turn to wait, and wait he had. Most nights he found himself laying in bed, hand around his hard cock thinking about the things he and Y/N had gotten up to during their last rendezvous.

That’s the one thing he truly misses about his days back in school, how easy it was for him to force her hand when he was tired of waiting. He knew her too well, knew how to get under her skin. Whenever he missed the feeling of her hand in his, or when he had nearly forgotten what the inside of her mouth tastes like it was all too easy to get her to make her move. All it took was some innocent flirting during breakfast, usually with Angelina Johnson, and by lunch time there would be a note in Y/N’s delicate scrawl detailing their next meeting time and place on his pillow.

But now he truly has to wait for Y/N to need him. They had gone longer than three weeks before, but that had been during the war, when it was too dangerous to play their game. Fred knows that he could always break their little game, he could owl her any day and have her in his bed that night, but he enjoys the chase, it’s part of the fun.

His mind wanders as his fingers tear at the envelope, wondering which of their games Y/N had chosen for them, silently hoping she had chosen his favorite.

Sometimes their game was romantic. They’d meet at a fancy muggle restaurant, all dressed up. Fred would wine and dine her for hours before he’d take her back to his. Their sex was always slow and intimate. Fred would make sure she could feel all of him and wouldn’t stop until his name was dripping from her lips as she came. He’d kiss her slowly as he came insider her, wanting to feel as close to her as possible.

Other times, their game was quick and dirty. They’d meet at a hotel room in London and from the second the door was shut behind them they were all over each other. They’d both be naked in a matter of minutes, their hands roaming each other’s bodies and Fred’s mouth leaving marks on her wherever he can. Their sex was quick and hard, both of them usually on their lunch breaks. Often they came together, and Fred’s lips wouldn’t leave her skin until they were back on the bustling streets of London and parting ways to go back to their lives.

Fred’s favorite game by far was the perfect mix of the others. They’d meet at a muggle club, just a few minutes apart from each other. Fred would arrive first and grab a drink from the bar before settling at a table. When Y/N would enter they’d lock eyes, and the game would truly begin. Y/N would spend the evening doing as she pleases: drinking, dancing, and most importantly, flirting. Fred would watch her from his spot, jealousy and arousal building up in his stomach. He’d let her push it and just as some unsuspecting muggle is trying to get her to leave with him, Fred would swoop in and remind her just who she belongs too. Their first round is quick and dirty, usually in the toilets of whatever club they happen to be at. Then he’d apperate them back to hers, and they’d spend the rest of the evening tangled in the sheets of her bed, kissing softly as he ruined her.

Fred fumbles with the envelope as he pulls the piece of parchment out, too excited to be careful. A grin spreads across his face as he eyes scan over the few words written down. She had chosen his favorite game, and he couldn’t wait to play.

Malibu. Tonight. 10:30.

Y/N stands in front of her open closet in nothing but a dressing gown, nervous butterflies in her stomach as she contemplates what to wear. Upscale muggle clubs are not her usual stomping ground and she wants to look perfect, so she’s at a loss for what to wear.

Of course, she could have picked one of their other games. She had plenty of dresses she felt confident in that would have been perfect for a night at a muggle restaurant, but it had already been three weeks since she’d seen Fred last, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for a reservation to open up. A lunch time meet up would have been perfect as well, since her and Fred managed to get naked in under 10 seconds her clothes wouldn’t matter, but she needed longer than an hour with him.

Plus, this particular game is Fred’s favorite, and she needs him nice and riled up for the night she has planned. They’ve only played out this game two other times, but both times Y/N was barely able to walk the next day.

She decides to go with something white, for a few different reasons. For one, Y/N had bought a white silk dress that hugs her curves perfectly last weekend and seeing her in something new and tight will rile Fred up even more.

But mostly, she knows that seeing her in white awakens something carnal in Fred. Y/N had once made the mistake of wearing a brand new set of matching white bra and panties to one of their meetings, and after Fred had ripped her panties off he fucked her hard, growling in her ear about how innocent she looked in white, but that they both knew what a dirty slut she was for him. He had made her cum so many times that she cried from the overstimulation, the only downside was that she had to replace her ruined panties and they had been quite expensive.

Y/N grabs the new white dress out of her closet, a shiver running down her spine at the memory. Three weeks is far too long to go without having Fred both in her bed and just in her life generally. She makes a mental note not to wait that long next time as she heads over to her dresser. She opens the top drawer, trying to decide which pair of panties would really get Fred going.

“Well, if I’m being honest with myself,” Y/N thinks out loud, quietly. With a wicked smile she slams the drawer shut. “No panties it is.”

Fred is already nursing a whiskey sour at a table when Y/N strolls into the main room of the club. Their eyes lock across the crowded room, and after sending her a sly wink his eyes trail down her body.

“Holy hell,” he groans, the grip he has on his glass tightening. He can already feel himself getting hard in his trousers just from the outfit Y/N is wearing alone. Fred can tell by the way the lights reflect off of it that the tight piece of fabric clinging to her every curve is made out of silk, his absolute favorite. The fact that it’s white drives him even crazier and he quickly downs his drink, needing to calm himself down.

From where Y/N is standing at the bar Fred has the perfect view of her bum. He absent mindedly signals for a waitress to bring him another drink, his eyes trained on Y/N. Fred has to stifle a groan when her dress rides up the back of her thighs as she leans forward to shout her order to the bartender. He’s fully hard in his trousers now as he thinks about how badly he wants to feel those thighs wrapped around his head.

Just as a waitress sets another drink down on Fred’s table a young man with tousled blonde hair comes up behind Y/N, blocking his view.

He takes a sip of his drink. “Let the games begin.”

Y/N feels someone come up behind her, and a moment later she can feel them press up against her. “You come here alone?”

She smiles to herself before turning to the stranger. There’s no doubt that he’s attractive, and Y/N knows that she had positioned herself directly in Fred’s line of sight, so she knows that he’s watching their exchange.

“I did actually,” she drawls, her hand running down the length of the glass the bartender had just set in front on her. “Was hoping to find someone that piques my interest here.”

The man’s eyes follow the languid movement of her hand on her glass for a moment, before he looks into her eyes with a smirk. “Oh really? Any luck so far?”

Y/N takes a sip of her drink, willing herself to keep her eyes on the man in front of her instead of searching for Fred’s. The alcohol burns her throat as arousal begins to build in her stomach. She knows Fred is out there, watching her intently as she flirts with someone who isn’t him. But they both know who she’ll be going home with, and that though alone has her pussy aching.

“I think so,” Y/N responds, her voice dripping with arousal. It’s not due to the man standing in front of her, but he doesn’t need to know that. She looks him up and down, taking notice of his strong hands and long legs. She nods to herself, almost saying ‘yeah, he’ll do.’ She downs the rest of her drink quickly and slaps some muggle money down on the bar. “Care to dance?”

Fred’s eyes are trained on the dance floor, his second drink abandoned on the table next to him. He’s too focused on Y/N, watching her hips sway to the beat of whatever muggle song is playing. Her back is pressed up against the front of the bloke that approached her at the bar, and his hands are gripping her hips. They’ve been dancing like that for at least 30 minutes and Fred feels like he hasn’t even blinked, he’s too entranced by Y/N.

His cock has been aching in his trousers for what feels like hours, and his stomach is a pit full of arousal and jealousy. On one hand he finds Y/N’s actions downright dirty, and he knows he’ll be thinking of how good she looks tonight next time he’s alone in bed and desperate for her touch. On the other hand, he wants to be the one dancing behind her, gripping her hips so tightly he leaves bruises to remind her of him for days after.

Fred clenches his fist, his eyes trailing up Y/N’s body to her face to try and calm himself down. They’ve only been at it for 45 minutes and Fred already wants to storm over and claim Y/N. The first time they had played this particular game Y/N had been shy, and Fred had watched her flirt with a few different guys before she had settled on the dance floor with one. He watched her with him for the better part of two hours before he intervened, no longer able to stand the fact that it wasn’t his hands gripping her bum.

The second time Y/N was bolder. She had spent only 30 minutes at the bar talking to a bloke before they moved to the dance floor. Fred had managed to watch for over an hour that time before his hands ached to touch her and he sent the muggle man Y/N had been with away.

When he first entered the club that evening he had planned on waiting longer. Y/N had made him wait three weeks, and he planned on punishing her by making her wait for him. But now that he’s standing there, watching her move in that sinful white dress against someone who isn’t him he can barely stop himself from stomping over there and taking her right in the middle of the dance floor.

Usually he can contain himself. She’s always driven him mad, but he enjoys their little game too much to break the rules. He loves the uncertainty of the chase, it’s what had drawn him in all those years ago at Hogwarts. Not knowing what the next note would contain, not knowing how long she would make him wait, not knowing what wicked plans she had made for them. Y/N was just as unpredictable as Fred and that usually drove him crazy in a good way. But now, as Fred watches her grind up against some stranger he would give anything to know what’s going on in her mind. Fred isn’t sure if it’s because it’s been three weeks since he last saw her or because she looks absolutely ethereal tonight but he’s ready to end their game early and take his woman home.

Luckily for Fred the song Y/N and her partner had been dancing to fades into another, and the pair head back towards the bar. Fred adjusts himself in his trousers so his arousal isn’t so obvious, before he throws some money on his table.

“Time to end this game.”

A light line of sweat has begun to drip down Y/N’s back and she can feel the wetness of her pussy coating her thighs. Her and Darren, she had managed to remember to at least ask the name of the poor bloke she planned on blue balling, had been dancing right in the middle of the dance floor where Y/N knew Fred could see. She could feel his gaze on her as she moved her hips to the beat which did nothing but heighten her arousal.

“So, what are you drinking?” Darren asks as they reach the bar once again. Y/N had suggested they get another drink, needing to take a break from Fred’s stare.

Y/N can smell Fred before she feels him. He’s always smelled the same, like cinnamon, fireworks and something Y/N can only describe as home. She’s about to respond to the question when she feels someone press up against her back. Fred grabs her hips tightly and Y/N has to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

“Actually, I think she’s had enough to drink,” Fred answers for her as he pulls her even tighter against his chest. His voice sends waves of pleasure through Y/N’s body, and she tries to subtly rub her thighs together to try and get some relief on her aching pussy.

Darren glares at Fred, and if Y/N wasn’t so turned on she probably would have laughed. “Oi, mate, d’you mind? We’re having a good time together.”

Y/N can feel Fred’s chest rumble against her back as he laughs, clearly unphased by what Darren had said. She feels Fred lean down, and a shiver runs down her spine as his lips lightly caress her earlobe.

“Is that true, baby? Were you having a good time with him?” Fred whispers in Y/N’s ear before he begins to press light kisses to the side of her neck.

“I was, yes,” she admits, with a nod, her voice shaking with arousal.

Darren looks like he’s about to tell Fred off, but Fred’s lips stop their movements on her neck so he can whisper in her ear again. “But what about me, baby? Are you ready to have a good time with me?”

Y/N is barely able to nod before Fred is spinning her in his arms and kissing her deeply. She can hear Darren say something rude as he stalks off, but her mind is too full of Fred to register it. Fred trails one of his hands down to Y/N’s bum, giving it a tight squeeze, and when she parts her lips to let out a soft moan he takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth.

When Fred breaks their kiss a few moments later Y/N is breathless, her cheeks tinted pink. She chases after his lips, desperate for more but Fred grabs her chin. Her eyes flick up to meet his gaze, and a tingle of pleasure runs through her pussy at how dark Fred’s eyes are.

“You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N,” he growls into her ear. “You show up here in this,” he pauses so his fingers can tug at the bottom hem of her dress before he continues. “Knowing that I can’t touch you.” Fred trails off for a moment, letting his lips press slow kisses up and down the column of her throat. “Such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

Y/N lets out a whine, letting her head fall back so Fred’s lips have more skin to kiss. “Just wanted to look pretty for you is all,” she gasps. Fred’s mouth had found her sweet spot and started to slowly suck at it.

Fred hums against her neck, his hands wrapping around her waist. He pulls her body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so Y/N can feel his hard cock press up against her. “You look so pretty baby. And so, fucking dirty. Grinding against some random bloke while I watch, putting on a show for me.”

Y/N is soaking wet at this point, Fred’s words and actions only turning her on further. She pulls his face away from her neck, unable to contain herself anymore. She presses their lips together messily, moaning as Fred’s soft lips move with hers. Their kiss is uncoordinated, but Y/N doesn’t care. “Need you, Freddie. Need you so bad,” she whines into his mouth.

Fred kisses her for a moment longer before he forces himself to pull away. Y/N’s mouth is intoxicating, and he could spend hours just standing there and kissing her. But his cock is aching and Y/N needs him and he can’t deny her anything.

In the blink of an eye Fred has lead them away from the bar and is pushing Y/N up against the closed door of the women’s toilets. He presses their lips together hungrily as he grabs her thigh, hitching it around his waist to give him access to her core.

Y/N moans into Fred’s mouth as they kiss, his right hand gripping her thigh tightly while the other trails up her other leg towards her pussy. A smirk forms on her lips as Fred’s hand inches closer to where she needs him most, knowing that he’s about to discover her little secret.

“You dirty little slut,” Fred growls as he breaks their kiss. He had planned on teasing Y/N by softly rubbing her clit through her panties, but when he finally reached her folds he was met with her dripping entrance. He rubs her exposed clit with his thumb, causing Y/N to let out a long whine. “Look at you. Trying to fool everyone in your little white dress. Pretending you’re so innocent while your pussy is bare, anyone able to get a glance.”

Y/N is barely able to speak, her breath coming out in hard pants as Fred toys with her clit, his index finger beginning to slowly circle her entrance, just barely letting the tip of his finger enter her heat. She opens her mouth to respond, but a moan comes out instead as Fred finally lets his index finger sink fully into her.

“Is that what you were hoping for? Hm?” Fred asks as he curls his finger, smiling when Y/N clenches around him. “Hoping someone else would get a flash of your sweet pussy? Hoping someone else would notice and get a turn with you before me?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, her mouth running dry as Fred adds another finger. Her fingers dig into Fred’s shoulders to try and steady herself as his thumb starts to rub her clit harder. “N-no,” she manages to stutter out a few seconds later when she remembers how to speak. “Did it for you. Only for you. Only want you.”

Fred buries his face in Y/N’s neck to hide the blush that has started to tint his cheeks. Even though they’ve never defined their relationship Fred knows that Y/N doesn’t see anyone else while they’re apart and he doesn’t either. But hearing that she only wants him makes him want to say things he’s felt since he was 15 years old. So he presses kisses into the hot skin of her neck instead, because it’s not appropriate to tell someone you love them for the first time while you fingerfuck them in the bathroom of a club.

“’M close,” Y/N breaths, one of her hands leaving Fred’s shoulder to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. She can feel her climax approaching quickly, and with one more curl of Fred’s fingers against her sweet spot she’s tumbling over the edge, Fred’s name falling from her mouth.

Fred fingers continue their movements, his touch much lighter and slower to help her through her climax. When Y/N’s breathing has somewhat returned to normal Fred slowly removes his fingers and presses one more kiss to her neck so he can look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed red and her lips are swollen.

“God you’re so beautiful,” Fred whispers, kissing her deeply once again. He pulls away a moment later, pressing their foreheads together. He’s painfully aware of how hard he is in his trousers and he grinds against Y/N’s bum, trying to get some kind of relief.

Y/N giggles at Fred’s actions, bumping their foreheads together lightly. “You gonna take me home and fuck me? Or should I go find that bloke from earlier and see if he’ll give it to me?” she teases.

Without another word Fred is gripping her tightly and apperating them away.

As soon as they land in Y/N’s flat Fred reattaches their lips, keeping it slow and intimate. Now that the rushed part of their evening is over Fred wants to take his time with her. He moves them to her bedroom slowly, Y/N’s fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

They reach her bed just as Y/N has worked the last button of Fred’s shirt, and he breaks their kiss so he can lightly push her back onto the bed. He rids himself of his shirt before he crawls over Y/N and reattaches their lips in a heated kiss. He grabs one of her knees and pulls her legs apart, settling in between them.

“Take this off,” Fred demands, his hands tugging at the hem of her dress. “ I wanna see all of you.” As Y/N takes of her dress Fred fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing it before moving on to his trousers. He falls back onto the bed so he can kick the rest of his clothing off, his cock finally getting some relief from its tight confines.

Before Fred can crawl back on top of Y/N she’s straddling his waist. She acts as if she’s going to kiss him, but at the last second she turns her attention to his neck and starts peppering kisses along the exposed skin.

Fred’s hands come up and grip Y/N’s hips tightly. “You’re such a tease.”

Y/N laughs into Fred’s neck as she kisses it, causing Fred to chuckle as well. While there are many parts of a healthy sex life Fred loves and enjoys, kissing is certainly in his top 3; which Y/N is fully aware of. They had once spent over an hour in one of Hogwarts’ secret passageways with Y/N pressed up against the wall as their lips moved together. It was one of the first times they had met in secret, and Fred still gets butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about it. Which he does far more often than he’d like to admit.

Fred lets her kiss and suck at his neck for a few moments longer before he flips them over, causing Y/N to squeal both in delight and surprise. Fred bites at her shoulder momentarily before he starts to peck her lips several times.

“I was gonna ride you ya know,” Y/N says with a soft laugh in between kisses. Fred laughs as well, one of his hands coming up to cup Y/N’s cheek while the other starts to massage one of her breasts, his thumb teasing her nipple. “Fuck, Freddie. Feels so good,” she moans.

Fred pulls away from her slightly so he can look Y/N in the eyes. “You do look exceptionally pretty when you sit on my cock, my love.” Fred pauses, his thumb rubbing her cheek as a pink blush spreads across it. “But tonight, I want- no I need.” Fred’s sentence is cut short as Y/N grabs him by the neck and brings their lips together.

She kisses him slow, letting Fred take the lead and lick into her mouth. Y/N doesn’t need Fred to finish his sentence, she already knows what he was trying to say, because she feels the same way. After an evening full of teasing and putting on a show for each other there’s nothing either of them want more than to be close to one and other.

“Please, Freddie,” Y/N begs as Fred’s fingers begin to pinch at her other nipple.

Without another word Fred hitches Y/N’s left leg up on his hip and lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly with a roll of his hips, both of them letting out low moans. Fred doesn’t stop moving until he’s fully buried inside her, his lips coming up to suck at the skin just below her earlobe.

“Feel so good, baby. Always feel so good. Oh God-,” Fred’s words cut off with a groan as Y/N clenches around him. Fred rests his forehead against hers so he can look her in the eyes. He pulls out of Y/N halfway before he pushes back in, slowly starting to fuck her. “God I love you.”

Before Fred has a chance to regret what he’s said Y/N is kissing him hungrily, her hips moving to meet Fred’s thrusts. She breaks their kiss to let out a whine as Fred’s thumb starts to rub slow circles on her clit in time with his thrusts.

“Merlin that feels good,” she breaths, tilting her chin up to kiss Fred briefly. “Not gonna last much longer,” she moans.

Fred speeds up his thrusts as he hitches Y/N’s leg higher on his hip so that he’s hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. “Me either, love. Come for me baby.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N is coming, her toes curling and nails scratching down Fred’s back from the pleasure as she moans his name. Her walls spasm and clench against Fred’s cock, helping him to reach his climax. Her moans are cut off by Fred kissing her deeply as he reaches his own high, emptying himself into Y/N.

Fred slows his thrusts down, helping them both come down from their highs, his mouth still moving against Y/N’s softly. After a few final thrusts he slowly pulls out, and rolls onto his back, his hands gripping Y/N’s waist so that she rolls with him and their kiss doesn’t break.

They just lay there kissing for a few minutes, Y/N’s hands tangled in Fred’s hair while his hands rub circles on her hips. Y/N pulls away first, her breathing heavy and her cheeks flushed red. Fred smiles at her and brings one of his hands up to stroke her hair.

They sit there for a few moments in silence, just looking at each other. Fred feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest as he studies Y/N’s familiar features. After tonight he’s more sure than he’s ever been, he doesn’t want to spend another moment with out her in his life.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Fred says quietly, not wanting to disturb their peaceful moment.

Y/N kisses him briefly. “That I look pretty sitting on your cock? ‘Cause I’ve known that for ages,” she teases.

“Well yes I did mean that,” Fred says with a chuckle before kissing her again. “But that’s not what I was talking about. And it’s okay if you-”

He’s about to say something else, when Y/N lurches forward to kiss him. “I love you too you idiot. Always have.”

When Y/N wakes up the next morning and turns over she’s disappointed that Fred isn’t in bed next to her. While they never usually spent the night together, last night had been different and she had fallen asleep last night dreaming of what round three would consist of in the morning.

Y/N is halfway through cursing Fred out in her head when she notices an envelope sitting on the pillow Fred’s head had been cradled against only a few hours ago. She grabs it, letting her finger trace over her name written in Fred’s messy scrawl on the outside before she tears it open.

My flat. Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that and every single day for the rest of forever. 6 pm.

Love you forever and always.

Y/N scans her eyes over the words several times, letting Fred’s message sink in. She smiles to herself as she falls back against her pillows, her hear swelling with more love than she ever thought possible. “Game over.”

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