#weed usually helps (not stop it but makes it not distressing at least) but trying to cut back :(
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insomnia is trying to fake-it-til-you-make-it into slumber but your eyes won’t stop feeling wide open even though they’re mashed shut. “your eyes” here meaning your literal eyes but also your brain.
#supposedly even just laying still with your eyes closed will help rest you but at this point I might as well try to get more shit done#just feels like wasted hours now :\#the phone helps the brain but nothing else - especially not the eyes :/#fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck#so fucking tired dude I feel like my eyes are going to wither out of my skull#need to be buried alive then maybe I’ll finally get some shuteye#insomnia posting#insomniac#weed usually helps (not stop it but makes it not distressing at least) but trying to cut back :(#brain please shut up brain please shut up brain please shut up brain please shut up brain please shut up brain please shut up#personal
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ALL OF US …… ( PAPER FLOWERS . )
❝ A weed is but an unloved flower.❞
― Ella Wheeler Wilcox
CHARACTERS : YUI … JAMIE … YEBIN … MARISOL … ISEUL & CARMEN BAE
WORDS : 2k
WARNINGS / NOTES : Yui overdoses. Vomiting. It's a distressing moment for everyone involved. Hospitals. Mentions of familial abandonment. If I missed anything let me know! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡
“It’s not like I care that he’s fucking other girls. I just, like…I don’t know.”
“A heads up would’ve been nice,” Marisol finishes for Jamie as she continues to cut out the shape of a flower on the pale purple paper as Jamie nods, folding a piece of yellow paper.
“And I like the girl. Like, Sena is nice or whatever but…” Jamie shrugs looking off to the side, trying to string her words together.
“It’s just so obvious they’re fucking.”
“Yeah, totally obvious. Did you see how he was looking at her? He was giving her the look,” Marisol says as she gives Jamie a fond look, mimicking the one she saw Sammy giving Sena. The mockery makes Jamie laugh as Marisol tilts her head, making her eyelids heavy and putting a small smile on her full lips. Jamie covers her mouth as she giggles at her friend, looking beside her at Yui who stared at the table blankly.
Jamie didn’t think much of it. Yui always zoned out. It’s just what she did. Jamie knows it’s probably the drugs but if she’s being honest, she doesn’t know when Yui is sober or when she’s high, especially at this point. Jamie likes taking care of Yui when she’s like this. It reminds her of taking care of a child.
“Do you need help with your flower, Yui?” Jamie asks sweetly, already beginning to fold the black paper into petals for the elder.
Yui’s been quiet lately. Usually, she’ll stir something up in the dorm, argue with Yebin once or twice, or say something to get someone pissed off at the lease least but for the past few days, she’s been really quiet. Sometimes Jamie forgets she’s even there. Yui is like a ghost in this dorm to Jamie but a friendly ghost. Jamie thinks she likes Yui more when she doesn’t speak.
“I like the colors you picked,” Jamie says as she folds the gold accents into the petals, “Looks like you.”
Yui doesn’t reply, looking up and around the room before back at the paper flower being made in Jamie’s hand. Jamie’s sweet eyes look up at Yui, smiling sweetly at her in hopes of getting some kind of reaction out of her but nothing comes. Jamie still smiles though. She likes arts and crafts like this, they always help calm her even when she isn’t anxious.
“Do you feel okay, Yui? You’re very quiet.”
Yui clears her throat, trying to break herself out of her haze but she can’t. She’s stuck in that thick all consuming haze.
“I think I’m just tired,” Yui tells Jamie quietly, causing the girl to hum and nod in understanding.
“We can make more flowers tomorrow. You should lay down.” Jamie pats Yui’s hand as the elder nods, clearing her throat.
“Yeah…Yeah,” Yui nearly whispers as she begins to stand up.
Jamie’s focus never leaves the paper flowers she’s nearly finished with, smiling at her creation. She thinks it’ll look good on Yui’s wall or in the center of–Thud!
The loud and sudden sound makes Jamie turn around abruptly, eyes widening when she sees Yui on the floor. Jamie lets out a scream at the sight, shoving herself out of her chair and rushing over to the elder like she has any idea how to help. Yui is clearly seizing, her body locked up as she thrashes around on the hardwood floor. Jamie is so scared she’s going to hit her head too hard but she doesn’t want to grab her, scared she’ll only hurt her more.
That’s all Jamie can feel right now: Scared. Jamie is so scared.
“Mari! Mari, help!” Jamie screams, hands up and hovering over Yui, clearly unsure of what to do.
“What the hell is going–Oh my god,” Marisol starts but stops when she sees what’s happening in the hallway, rushing out of the bathroom and towards the girls on the ground.
“Yebin!” Marisol calls as she drops to her side near Yui, pushing the girl on her side as a white foamy substance spills from her mouth. There’s a clear look of distress on Marisol’s face as she stares down at Yui but her hands are stable and so is her breathing. She can be scared later, she’ll have time for that later, but for right now she has to help Yui.
“What the fuck is happening?” Yebin snaps as she emerges from her room, clearly having been asleep before the commotion happened. Yebin looks confused at the sight in front of her but she’s seen it before, making her jump straight into action as if it’s second nature. It feels like it at this point.
“I put her on her side–”
“Did you call paramedics?” Yebin asks as she opens Yui’s mouth wider, shoving two fingers down her throat, making Yui wrench because of it. Yui throws up around Yebin’s fingers, making Yebin cringe and look away but she knows it’s helping. Marisol shakes her head, pulling Yui’s hair back as the girl coughs and gasps on the floor.
“Someone call them. She’s fucking overdosing.” Yebin feels that’s obvious. Marisol looks at Jamie who still sits on her knees beside Yui, shimmery tears running down her cheeks, covering her mouth with her small trembling hands. She figures she’s too scared and stunned to talk to the paramedics, leaving it to her. Marisol feels like she’s on the verge of throwing up as her pulls her phone out to call the paramedics.
Marisol rests a hand on Yui’s arm to calm herself hopefully.
Yui is cold. She’s still.
Yebin has never liked hospitals. They make her uncomfortable and uneasy especially now.
“Did you call her parents?” Marisol asks Carmen, one of their CEOs, but Yebin already knows the answer. Their voices feel like they’re in the background and the only thing she can hear are the machines Yui is hooked up to.
Beep, beep, beep.
“They didn’t answer. I left a voicemail but…I don’t think they’re coming.”
Beep, beep, beep.
Yebin can feel her hands tremble as she stares at Yui’s face, reliving every memory the two have shared together. It hits her how long she’s known Yui, how much they went through together, when it was just them against the world together, she’s never thought about how often Yui has been around, how much Yebin relied on her, how tightly they’ve bonded. Now, machines are keeping her lungs full of air and her heart beating. Yebin’s eyes get warm.
Beep, beep, beep.
“Does she have anyone else? Is it just you guys?”
Beep, beep, beep.
“She was close to Aki. She’d come over a lot. They might’ve been dating. I don’t know. Yui didn’t talk a lot about her other friends.”
Beep, beep, beep.
Yebin takes a deep breath, rubbing her face to make the sound fill the room again. She looks away from Yui and towards Carmen and Marisol, watching as Iseul walks into the room in haste. She’s dressed in her usual attire: a Grey pantsuit, heeled boots, and a black purse over her shoulder. Yebin swears Iseul sleeps in that outfit.
“What the fuck happened?” Iseul asks snappily, pointing to Yui’s body in the hospital bed as she looks down at Yebin like she has all the answers.
“She overdosed.” Yebin can hear Jamie sniffle at Yebin’s deadpanned words. Iseul sighs, shaking her head as her hands go to her hips.
“Of course she did,” Iseul huffs almost like she’s annoyed, looking back at Yui’s body. She softens at the sight of the girl hooked up to machines and with a tube down her throat. Yebin knows Iseul has a heart, that deep down under all the ice inside her that she’s a caring and loving woman. She’s a CEO at the end of the day, and Yebin doesn’t expect much kindness from her.
“Is she going to be okay? Do we know?” Iseul asks, tone a lot softer than before. Yebin doesn’t answer, looking at Yui’s face again with a deep sigh. Marisol clears her throat, looking at Yui and then at Iseul.
“They said she’s in a coma. They don’t know when she’s going to wake up. They said she’s lucky to even be alive right now.” Marisol fills Iseul in on all the doctors told her and Yebin. Jamie hasn’t stopped crying since this whole thing started.
It hits Yebin that this has all happened in less than two hours. It’s only 11 PM.
“This can’t get out,” Iseul tells Carmen after a few minutes of silence. It almost makes Yebin cringe. All she’s ever seen Iseul care about is business. It’s always about business, how to make more money, or what to do to please the masses, Yebin can’t help but to feel like a machine more often than not.
“If people find out she overdosed–”
“Is that really all you can think about right now?” Yebin interjects, her voice weaker than she wants it to be. “About what people will think? She’s in a fucking coma.”
Iseul sighs at Yebin’s emotions, shaking her head as if what she said was ridiculous. It probably was ridiculous in Iseul’s eyes. Yebin’s only seen the woman have two emotions, none of which being sadness.
“She’s in a fucking coma because of illegal drugs. Do you know what the public will do to her if they find out? Think logically for a second, Yebin.” Iseul taps the side of her own head to signal to Yebin to use her brain, it only makes Yebin turn her head away, sniffling softly. She hates how dumb Iseul makes her feel for feeling anything.
“Is her family coming?” Iseul asks, pulling out her phone and typing around. Yebin almost rolls her eyes when the question is asked again.
Yui hasn’t spoken to her parents in 6 years, going on 7. They want nothing to do with her and she wants nothing to do with them. Anyone who knows Yui knows that.
“They aren’t in contact. You shouldn’t even call them,” Yebin sighs, “Call Aki. She’s the only other person I know that cares about her besides us.” Yebin brushes a few silky strands of Yui’s hair behind her ear with a deep breath through her nose. Her eyes are hot, she can feel her throat getting tight the longer she looks at Yui in her weakest state. She hates seeing her like this. She wishes she never had to see her like this.
The room is quiet again.
Beep, beep, beep.
#★ & ☆ ALLUME --— WRITING .#fictional idol community#kpop fanfic#idol oc#oc kpop group#kpop oc#idol au#Idol Addition#bts addition#fake kpop group#fake kpop gg#female kpop additions#fictional idol group#idolverse
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I’m All Strung Out, My Heart is Fried
Boarding School for Troubled Teens and Young Love
Words: 709
Ships: Klaus Hargreeves/David Katz
Summary: Dave gets back to his dorm after detention to find Klaus getting high, which will also get them in a shit ton of trouble. Except before he even thinks of getting a teacher (not like he ever would), Dave notices the tears in his eyes and the shake of his hands.
TW: Klaus gets high because hes upset, hallucinations
AN - Srry this is kinda short-- i am having a lot of fun writing for this series tho expect more in the future :) (not sure how soon besties- school is in fact kicking my ass. i am eating noodles rn they arent the best maybe a 6/10)
Ao3
How the hell did I get detention and Klaus not? Dave laughed to himself as he walked back to his dorm an hour after school ended. They both always got detention together, and ex-good kid Dave was utterly amused he fucked up and Klaus didn’t. Sure, Dave was the one who set the sock on fire, but he did it because Klaus asked him! And the teacher didn’t even notice Klaus dancing behind her while Dave got in trouble! As he shoved the door open he tried his best to hold in his laughter.
“Honey I’m home! You’ll never guess what Mrs. Simmion said in detention-” the sight that met Dave’s eyes made him still in surprise. Klaus was sitting on their windowsill, smoking what Dave assumes is weed out the crack he opened in the window, and he had tears silently dripping down his face. Dave was stiff, before he slammed the door behind him and ripped the blunt from Klaus’ fingers.
“You know how much trouble you’ll get in if you get caught like this,” Dave started, putting out the blunt. “If literally anyone but me and Mr. Hughes sees this stuff you’ll be stuck rooming alone for however long they decide, and that’s not a good idea.” He rushed while opening the window as high as it could go, which was only about half of what a normal window could, making it (what they think is) too small for a teenager to get through. He closed any vents into their room and turned on their fan. He actually had no clue if any of this would help the smell, but it’s as good as he could do.
When Dave was done with his stress walk, he sat down right next to Klaus. “What’s wrong, dear?”
The tears that were lightly falling from his eyes came pouring out. He crumbled into Dave’s arms and wept and sobbed and got snot everywhere and felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“I’m here to listen if you need, love.” Dave tried. It never really worked, Klaus would usually brush his problem off and move on much to Dave’s distress. But this time, with how hard Klaus was crying, Dave hoped he would at least try to deal with it. (He was right.)
After a few more minutes of Klaus clawing at Dave’s shirt, he opened his mouth to breathe before it all came spilling out.
“God, Dave, I kept seeing them- and they wouldn’t leave. They were screaming and loud- they were so so loud-” Klaus clamped his hands over his ears as he shook violently, tears still pouring from his eyes. “And at first it was just them and they were screaming their threats like they always do, but then my dad was there and he was screaming with them and they were telling me horrible horrible things and when they brought up you I couldn’t take it and I-” He gestured to the trash can containing the half smoked blunt, grasped his hair and bit his lip trying to stop his sobbing.
Dave was almost too scared to ask, but his curiosity and concern overpowered that. “What did… what did they say about me?”
Klaus looked up, eyes glossy and wide. “They said you’ve been lying, and that you’re gonna send me back to him soon.”
Dave’s reaction was immediate.
He tightened his grasp on his partner, kissing his head as he held him close. “Darlin’, If I ever actually met your dad, he would be dead as soon as I laid my eyes on him. You’re the best darn thing that’s ever happened to me, and if I was conspiring against you, you would know ‘cause I’m a terrible liar.”
Klaus sniffled and lifted his head a bit, as though he was going to say something.
“What is it, dear?”
“You’re so… southern.” He sniffled and stifled a grin. Dave laughed and held him closer.
“Do you wanna hear about Mrs. Simmion’s bullshit now?” Dave ran his fingers through Klaus’ hair.
The teen giggled. “Always.”
Dave would have to deal with what was in the trash can later, but now he got to talk shit about people with his boyfriend, so he didn’t really care.
#klave#klaus hargreeves#david katz#klaus x dave#no powers au#boarding school au#fanfiction#fanfic#tua#tua fanfic#The Umbrella Academy
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Maze-Chapter One: What's Next? Pt. 5
Kurama couldn’t help but silently agree with Tomoko on that, he too was hoping Hiei would be there with everything in consideration. It was true, Hiei took Yusuke’s voyage into the sea of oblivion about as hard as Keiko despite saying otherwise along with the guilt of not being able to save him while being right there. Chances are, Hiei was dragging his feet on the matter and not wanting to face that possibility of having to say goodbye. It would be another fifteen minutes or so before Hiei would show up, of course he would, only Hiei would be late like that. Kuwabara and Tomoko both had a rather hard expression on their faces over the fact Hiei made everyone wait for him as Hiei dropped a bag of spicy shrimp chips on the table.
“Hiei.” Kuwabara simply said as he squinted his eyes towards the now seated Hiei at the booth.
“I see you’re still trying to make that porn stache look good on you.” Hiei sniped, angering Kuwabara on the spot for the mustache he had grown.
“Why you little punk, how about we take this outside!?” Kuwabara started getting up from his seat before being made to sit back down by Yukina.
“That’s enough you two, we came here for Keiko, not for you and Kuwabara to have a pissing match.” Kurama snapped, the stress of the day finally getting to him and silencing the two hotheads.
“Thank you Kurama…This has been the hardest thing I had to go through next to when Yusuke..” Keiko couldn’t even bring herself to say it as Tomoko went in to console her mother.
“Mom, this is too much for you. My Mom and I spoke, we both agreed that it’s time we said goodbye to my Dad. We’ll be removing him off the life support this Saturday for anyone to say their final goodbyes.” Tomoko took over by breaking the decision to the group as Keiko cried into her daughter’s shoulder and Kurama became silent.
“I’ll see if I can get Shizuru to come down from Hokkaido this Saturday. I’m so sorry Keiko, I’m just so sorry for your loss.” Kuwabara went into consoling Keiko as his own tears started flowing freely.
“Kurama?” Hiei looked over to Kurama, realizing he was being way quieter than usual.
“I have to go..” Kurama got up from his spot and started to head out into the night, forcing Hiei to follow.
Kuwabara was about to go after both Hiei and Kurama before being made to stay as it was clear Keiko needed the support right now. It would have to be a next day deal as Kurama and Hiei left, the whole night now was a trainwreck. The grief grew like a weed in Kurama’s body as he glowered at Hiei who stopped him at every turn to talk. It didn’t help that Hiei was fast, too fast for Kurama’s liking. After five minutes of this, Kurama found an alleyway to walk into to have a private talk with Hiei from human ears. Hiei’s eyes glowed with frustration and anger about the outburst as he tore into Kurama.
“What the hell was that about, Kurama!? I would’ve expected that from the fool, but not you!” Hiei yelled as he marched over an already emotionally distressed Kurama.
“I’ve had a very long day Hiei, that’s all.” Kurama snarled as the whole thing unraveled, Hiei wasn’t going to take any of it.
“That is the largest load of bullshit I’ve heard come from you. Tell me what’s going on!” Hiei demanded as he prepared to block Kurama again if he tried to make a run.
“I’m processing so many emotions right now that I need to not be around people for the moment.” Kurama confessed, though leaving out the dealings with a fae queen as that one was way too nauseating to speak about.
“Kurama, you’ve been here too long with the humans, it’s time for you to come to at least have a night in the demon world with me, be with your own kind.” Hiei once again tried to offer to get Kurama out of the human world for a bit, knowing too well the shorter lifespans was likely getting to Kurama.
“Hiei, we’ve been over this, I can’t. I simply can’t, I don’t even think I can even go back like I once did.” Kurama clutched his stomach a bit, the past biting him in the ass decades later.
“There you go again, you’re making excuses since that doctor told you couldn’t fight anymore. You don’t have a social life outside of work, helping Keiko around, and being at the detective’s bedside. If you don’t want to go back to the demon world, then fine, but come back with me to the restaurant. You said it yourself that Keiko needed us, not some dramatic run away shit show.” Hiei said, angered that his friend for the last couple of decades was still living in isolation and refusing just that one essential tool of healing.
“Fine, I’ll come back soon, just, I need some fresh air.” Kurama reluctantly agreed, not thrilled that he was being called out like that.
“I’ll give you that much, but if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming to get you myself.” Hiei warned as he started making the track back to the restaurant, annoyed he still couldn’t even read Kurama’s mind to figure what’s really going on.
~Running in a crowd, in a faceless town, I need to feel the touch of a friend~
“Goddamn it, who could be calling me now at this time!?” Kurama fumbled in his jacket to pull out the cellphone to chew out whoever dared bother the fox youkai at this time.
“I figured you weren’t going to sleep tonight, so I decided to call you up instead, Yoko Kurama.” The voice of Ophiuchus rang from the phone, nearly causing Kurama to drop it from the sheer audacity.
#Maze#Fan Fiction#Writing#Yu Yu Hakusho#Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction#Kurama#Yoko Kurama#YYH Kurama#Hiei#Kazuma Kuwabara#Keiko Yukimura#OCs#Yukina#Yusuke Urameshi
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long shots ; miya osamu
pairing: miya osamu x f!reader
synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.
tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k
a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL
HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.
“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.
“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”
“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”
A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”
Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.
It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM
But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM
Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.
Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.
The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.
“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.
A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.
You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.
Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.
As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.
Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.
Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.
And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.
The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.
“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.
The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.
“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.
“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.
“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”
Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”
Well, shit.
Hi Osamu,
I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!
Regretfully,
Y/N
MS Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
From: [email protected]
no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.
OM
PhD Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.
Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.
His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.
“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.
“Hey.”
You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”
“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”
At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”
Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”
Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”
“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”
“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”
“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”
Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.
“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.
“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”
“Oh?”
And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––
“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”
“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”
Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.
You take it.
Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.
Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.
“He wants you,” she sings.
“Or he was just being nice.”
“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”
“I think he was just being polite.”
“Or he’s crushing on you!”
“In your dreams.”
“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.
A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.
“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”
“Am not!” you laugh.
“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”
“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”
“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”
“Isla.”
“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”
“I’m not asking him out.”
“Knew you were––”
“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”
Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.
“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.
“What?” you whisper back.
“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”
“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”
“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”
He does it again the next class.
And the next.
And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.
He debates pressing the matter.
hey osamu,
i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!
miserably,
Y/N
MS Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
From: [email protected]
y/n,
of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.
OM
PhD Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.
He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”
“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.
Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”
“Why?”
“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.
i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.
Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.
“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?
A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”
You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.
“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”
“So you changed.”
“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”
“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”
Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”
“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’
“I’ll be the boss.”
“Oh?”
And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.
The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.
“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.
He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”
“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.
Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”
He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.
“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.
“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”
“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.
“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.
Osamu smirks. “A gift.”
“Can I guess from who?”
“Sure.”
“Atsumu.”
His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.
“I’m smart like that.”
He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”
You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.
“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”
You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”
And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”
Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?
A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”
“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.
“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”
Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”
Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”
“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.
“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.
“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.
“Yeah,” he replies.
You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.
“Goodnight, Osamu.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.
But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.
Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.
Speaking of.
“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”
You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.
I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.
And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?
You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.
“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.
“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”
Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”
“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”
“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.
“Correct-o.”
He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.
There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.
Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”
He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.
Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.
“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.
“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”
“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”
“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.
You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.
His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.
From: osamu
good luck on the exam
you’re going to kill it
To: osamu
would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏
From: osamu
bye
To: osamu
i was kidding :(
From: osamu
fine. tip #1: write your name
To: osamu
not very helpful. 0/10
From: osamu
keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be
i’m kidding
you got this, y/n
“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”
“What would you do?” you ask, amused.
“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”
“Solid plan.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“What about me?”
“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.
“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.
“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”
A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.
Holy fuck.
Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.
“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.
Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.
“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”
“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.
“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”
Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”
Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.
He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.
And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”
“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––
“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”
“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.
“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.
You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”
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The Sun Sets With You
Chapter Three: Beneath the Oak Tree
Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.
Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: Strained parent relationship, death of a parent, grief, anxiety, it’s gonna get a little fluffy in this one!
W/C: 3.9k
A/N: So I'm honestly really proud of myself for this chapter, there's a little something that I wrote while I was in Ezra's mind & I still can't get over it. I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you all so much for the love & support!
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form
Chapter Two || Chapter Four
~APRIL NINETEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN – AFTERNOON~
At the day’s end, you begin your trek back to the house, the heels and balls of your feet aching in a bruising way with each step. The sun creeps lower and lower behind you as you walk and you can feel the warmth of its rays hugging your back. There was a time you would enjoy watching the sunset, when you would stay in town the few extra moments to revel in its beauty and its promise to you that, although darkness will soon creep in, the sun will rise again and bring with it a fresh beginning.
Now, though, your newly appointed duties force you to neglect your favorite time of day. Right after closing the shop, you headed over to the butchers shop for the cheapest pound of beef, cut up into chunks as requested by Pa, and began walking. Not looking back at the town or the sunset, but not able to look forward either. Muscle memory takes over your legs, the map in your mind leading you straight home and all other directions you may have anticipated moving towards are erased completely now.
As you walk up to the farm, you see Mr. Prospect far into the fields, digging weeds from the Earth diligently with the hoe in his hands. You gander upon him for a moment, slowing down your pace just to glance a little longer than might be considered appropriate. He’s discarded his jacket and his white shirt looks dirtier now, the sleeves rolled up to his biceps to reveal his tan arms. They’re not overly muscular, but you know they must be strong with how hard he’s working the fields.
You misstep while your head is turned to Mr. Prospect, the toe of your boot catching a fairly large rock in the dirt and it causes you to trip. You stumble, but regain your balance quickly and feel the flush of embarrassment flow through you, your head now facing forward with the front door to the house in your sights. You take another peek at Mr. Prospect, his attention still focused on the dirt, obviously not having seen you fumble and you thank whoever above that he had not been looking your way.
Once inside, the aroma of vegetable broth is swirling through the air; Pa had already begun the stew, thankfully, relieving some of the responsibility from you. You walk into the kitchenette and set the wrapped beef down onto the only free counter, then you remove your bonnet and bag, hanging it on the wooden hook and turning to place the lockbox back inside the safe.
You turn back to the kitchenette, unwrapping the paper to reveal the raw meat within and you dump it into the boiling broth with the vegetables. A simple stew; you’ve no spices besides pepper and fresh rosemary from the garden and the meat was already salted by the butcher, but it was always a favorite that Ma would make. Yet, when you try to cook it, it never comes out with the same taste anymore. As if Ma had put her own love into it and it was another part of her you just would not have anymore.
After some time, the stew is finished, the broth thickened and the vegetables and meat cooked through to tenderness, and just then, Pa walks into the house. He walks as if the weight of the Earth rests on his shoulders and he breathes deeply, trying to regain the air in his lungs he had lost from the hard work of the day. You stand in the kitchenette, waiting for him to move from the frame so you are able to greet Mr. Prospect as well, but Pa shuts the door behind him.
“He did not wish to join,” Pa says simply.
“Did he explain why?” You ask.
“He said he did not want to impose. I did not press the matter; if he chooses solitude, I will not force his hand,” Pa replies as he sits down at the table.
You keep quiet, deciding not to further discuss the subject so as to not upset Pa and you ladle a helping of stew into a bowl for him, carrying it along with the basket of rolls to the table. You set it down in front of him and after he says his silent letter to Ma, he begins eating. You serve yourself some stew as well and sit down at the table. You and Pa eat in silence, as usual, but there’s a nagging thought in your head that will not subside. As much as you try to throw it to the wind, your curiosity gets the best of you and as you stand to grab your dishes, you find the courage to confront your father.
“Pa?”
“Hm?” He grunts, packing his pipe with tobacco.
“Why did you not inform me of Mr. Prospect yesterday?” You ask quietly, hoping he will not be upset with your questioning.
“I did not see the need to. Not until I had a chance to speak with him myself.”
“I could have helped, Pa. You could have sent him to me and I could have spoken with him,” you continue as you move to stand closer to him. He sighs deeply.
“No.”
His quick response comes out cold, a spat in the face more like, and you immediately take offense. Clearly, Pa still sees you as a child and, like a child, he expects you to bend to the laws he has established in this house. Your pulse races, the grown woman within you takes over your mind and you feel the urge to fight for your position. It breaks your heart; you were used to fighting for yourself in the town, but now you find yourself fighting against your own father.
“Why? Do you not trust my judgement? I’ve put my work in for the farm like you and Ma have before me,” you reply in a firm tone.
“Because I am the owner and I will hire whomever I see fit. Enough of this.”
He nearly barks at you, like the Bakers’ dog that would frighten you as a child whenever you passed its territory, and you feel that same terror rush through you now. You try to see reason, but no acceptable excuse comes to mind. Perhaps he did not feel as though you have earned his respects as the young lady you are. Whatever he thinks of it, you feel it may be best to settle the subject. For now.
“Yes, sir,” you say softly. You turn to the kitchenette, place your soiled dishes in the basin and walk back to the range, serving a helping of food into another bowl with a spoon and setting a roll on top. “I will go offer some stew to Mr. Prospect.”
“Leave him be, daughter. If he wished to eat, he would have joined us at our table,” Pa says with a furrow in his brow.
“Perhaps he is intimidated, Pa. Afraid to sit and converse with us after the town has already been so unfriendly. If he wishes to be lonesome, I will respect it. But I will not let him go hungry simply for his preference.”
Before giving Pa another chance to argue, you step outside and shut the door behind you. You take a moment to yourself once you are far enough away from the house. A crushing feeling sits on your chest, pressure building and building and you take deep breaths in an attempt to calm your rapidly beating heart and quiet the ringing in your ears. You allow yourself to feel the cool breeze from the night flow across your face and closed eyelids as you find your center again.
You had hoped Pa would see you as an adult by now, not a helpless child. The loss of your mother only matured your soul more than it already was previously. You wonder what Ma would think, if she would agree with Pa or with you. Only more sadness courses through you, though, as you remind yourself that you will never know the answer.
Finally regaining your strength, you walk towards the barn, bowl in hand and heart drumming nervously in your chest. Why? Why so anxious? What is it about this mysterious man that has you feeling like a schoolgirl again? He was absolutely an intriguing – and rather handsome – man, far different from the men around town, as well as friendly, so why had everyone else been so disconcerted by him? You truly must have a different set of eyes, then, because you only wish to know – to learn – more.
You reach the ajar barn doors and knock on the wood softly to announce your presence. There is some shuffling from within until Mr. Prospect pulls open the door, his gaze full of pleasant surprise to see you standing in front of him.
“Sunflower,” he grins. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I apologize for interrupting your rest, but I figured you might be hungry after today,” you reply and hold out your hand with the bowl. He glances down at it, quickly looking back up into your eyes.
“I couldn’t, miss, I would feel as though I am taking advantage of your kindness.”
“Nonsense,” you scoff and his eyebrows twitch amusingly at your rebuttal. “It is the very least we can do since we are not able to pay you much. ’Sides, I’ve already served you; I would be more offended if you were to decline now. Otherwise it will go to waste and that will not sit right with Pa. Or with me.”
“Very well, Sunflower. I would hate to disappoint, so I will accept. Thank you very much,” he smiles and grabs the bowl from your outstretched hand, his fingertips lightly brushing your palm and a slight tingle from his skin on yours trickles through your hand. “May I ask you to join me?”
“I’d best not linger; I’m afraid I’ve managed to upset Pa tonight and I’d rather not cause him any further distress before sleep,” you explain, pushing past the temptation to say yes.
“I am sorry to hear that; I hope my being here hasn’t caused any controversy between you and your father.”
“Not at all, it has nothing to do with you, Mr. Prospect. Rest easy,” you smile.
“Thank you, dear Sunflower. Both for the ease of mind and also for this meal; I cannot wait to taste the flavors that have charmed my nose with its temptatious smell.”
You giggle softly at his statement; he speaks so differently, his own elocution, it seems. You bow your head slightly at him and take a turn to leave, but a lingering curiosity prompts you to speak.
“Mr. Prospect, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” he grins while he waits.
“Why do you call me ‘Sunflower’?”
“Do you take offense to my endearment, miss? I do apologize-”
“No,” you shake your head, offering a small smile for your expression to match your acceptance of the name he has bestowed upon you. “I must admit I quite like it. I was only curious.”
“It is because you glow as one; bright as the sun, yet gentle as its petals. Though, its beauty would diminish greatly were it next to you in comparison.”
Your neck, cheeks, and ears burn; an almost overwhelming heat you have not felt since little Morris Clark snuck a kiss to your cheek as children in the school play yard. Though, there was nothing childlike about the sensation rushing through you. His words make you smile; a genuine smile you forgot your face was capable of producing.
“I… I hope you enjoy the soup. I-I will be back for the bowl and spoon in the morning,” you stutter and attempt to hide the jubilant grin on your face by biting your lip. “Goodnight, Mr. Prospect.”
“Sunflower?” He calls out as you’re mid-turn, causing you to stop at his beckon. “Please, call me Ezra.”
Your smile breaks wider across your face and Ezra grins back, nodding slightly as he watches you consider his proposal. You take a breath to calm the thumping of your heart.
“Goodnight… Ezra.”
“Goodnight.”
~APRIL TWENTY-FIRST OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~
Sundays were your favorite days. No, not because of church, but because it was the only day of the week where you were able to close the shop early enough and have a spare moment to yourself. While everyone was busy praising God, praying to Him to prove they were holier than the rest of the town and repenting for the sins they committed during the week (just for them to start fresh on a new batch the next morning), it was the day you found your own escape.
You intently watch the clock ticking on the wall until the work day comes to an end and you quickly rush to the door to flip the sign, guaranteeing no other customers would make it through. You head back to the counter and carefully examine the ledger and count the coin from the day to assure each sale has been accounted for. After checking it once, you go through it again to reaffirm it’s correct and close the book.
You gather the coins in your hand and place them in the velvet bag, tying the string at the opening and setting both the bag and the book into the metal lockbox. You turn the small key, place the box in your bag, and nestle the key within your breast pocket.
You hurriedly make the trek back to the farm and you see Pa rounding up the chickens for their feeding. In your haste, you notice belatedly that you had not seen Ezra in the fields, but convince yourself he may be busy elsewhere. After a brief announcement of your arrival, you walk through the wooden front door, the floorboards creaking underneath you as you walk straight to the black safe next to the fireplace. You place the metal box from your bag inside the safe, closing it once again and heading back outside.
“Pa, I’ll be back in time for supper,” you call out as you stand under the apple tree, searching for the shiniest and reddest apple from its leaves to place in your bag.
“Be careful, daughter,” he replies as he throws more feed into the dirt. Considering how strained your relationship with Pa became, thankfully, he still respected your weekly ritual without any argument.
You wave and walk away from the farm, in the opposite direction of the town and towards the hills. It’s a mere five minute hike until you make it to the small landing at the base on the other side of the hill, letting the sounds of the flowing river fill your ears with delight. It is your own personal haven; no other person has found this place and you privately claimed it as your own, even marking your initials into the large oak tree that dwelled there.
As you make your way through the pine colored grass and up to your usual sitting area, you see the outline of a man sitting under your tree. Your brows furrow in confusion and you feel momentarily disappointed upon the realization that your secret place has been found by another, but you don’t dare be outwardly perturbed; how were they to know this was your own private sanctuary to escape the gloom of what has become of your life?
You continue in a steady march, not prepared to let your resting spot become someone else’s easily. Your mother taught you manners; you knew how to share. That did not mean it had to please you, but as long as they kept to themselves, you rationalize, what’s the harm? Maybe it was another lost soul finding comfort in the calming atmosphere of this place. An unavoidable grin stretches across your face, however, when you step closer and recognize the choppy cut of hair atop the man’s head. You catch a glimpse of his profile and his discernible nose and conclude it is the traveling man that has so intensely piqued your interest.
“Good afternoon, Ezra,” you address once you’re in range of his hearing. It catches him off guard and his shoulders jolt slightly, clearly unexpectant of anyone else finding this place.
“Sunflower,” he beams when his eyes meet yours as you stand under the shade of the tree. He moves to stand to properly greet you.
“Please,” you hold a hand up to stop him. “May I join you?”
“It would be a true delight,” he responds and resettles himself on the ground.
You smile sincerely and are pleasantly surprised to find it comes naturally and with ease in his presence. You lift your dress slightly from the ground and carry your weight to your knees to rest on your bottom, bending your legs to lay beside you. You sigh contentedly as you smooth out your skirts out around you.
“What brings you here? What about the fields?” You ask.
“Your father relieved me of my duties for the remainder of the afternoon. He declared: ‘Every soul should rest on the Lord’s day’.”
“Yes,” you chuckle. “That sounds like Pa.”
You do not press the subject of his religion, knowing first-hand how irksome it is when others comment on your lack of worship and you do not wish to cause Ezra any further discomfort by intruding on his personal preferences. A moment of silence passes between you two; the river flows and splits across different shaped rocks and boulders embedded into the dirt below the surface, creating a relaxing tune, gladly welcomed by your ears.
“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” You ask, turning your gaze to his. To see his peaceful face, full of heartfelt content of the surroundings, you think it may not be so bad to finally have a friend to share it with.
“Indeed; lovelier so with your company,” he smiles.
You feel a strange occurrence within you, a sudden spike in your pulse that makes your fingers and toes tingle, much like when they ache at the end of a long day. Yet, in this moment, you welcome it.
“I usually come here alone,” you say quietly as you fiddle with the strap of your bag.
“My apologies; if you’d prefer, I will find a different location of rest,” he frowns slightly, afraid he has imposed on time you prefer to spend alone.
“No,” you say quickly. “Don’t fret. Besides, this is the only place the children do not come to cause chaos.”
“I see,” he chuckles breathily, a sense of relief rushing through him that he has not upset you. “Perhaps we can share, then?” He questions tenderly in a hopeful wish released to the air.
“Yes,” you nod. “I think I would enjoy that.”
He smiles, his eyes gleaming along and you cannot fight the slight, arrhythmic thumping in your chest at the sight of his glee. Another moment passes without a word spoken as your heart paces normally once again and you look over at Ezra, his fingers busy fiddling with a small book.
“Whatcha got there?” You ask. He looks at you before meeting your gaze to his lap.
“Oh...” He looks at the brown, leather bound booklet in his hands. “A journal for my thoughts and compositions alike.”
“It’s nice to write down your reflections. May I hear some? Unless they are too close to your heart, then I do not wish to pry.”
“I’ve not read these aloud to anyone since my youth, dear Sunflower, but it would bring me great joy if you were to listen,” he says softly and you turn your body to face him, providing your utmost attention.
He smiles, chest rising profoundly with each nervous breath he takes as he opens his book, turning the ivory pages with the pad of his index finger until he lands on a scripture to read, clearing his throat before he begins.
“The vast expanse of the Green went on in each direction farther than the eye could see. The emerald of the leaves above coalesce into the umber of the earth below, both hues combining in the moss bound to the wide and tall bodies of majestic trees.
“The sunlight rained through the leaves, its rays bathing the ground I walked on and bringing the small buds of flowers to life with each step I took. The morning dew kissed the delicate fronds, single droplets meeting their lovers akin and they became as one, rolling away from the home they shared briefly and freefalling in blissful adrenaline until they met their demise in the dirt.
“I immersed myself in the environment, years upon years of the knowledge of rebirth all around, and I breathed in the crisp coolness of the air and life surrounding me. I long to become the moss on the tree, the buds in the dirt, the dew on the frond. To fade away into the Green and be born again.”
He takes a deep breath as he closes the book, grazing his fingers along the cover as if he is praising it, thanking it silently for the blank canvas it provides for him to express himself. His words move you, the meaning behind his composition striking a chord within your heart and, suddenly, you feel a small bead of water rolling down your cheek. As you bring your finger to your eye to wipe away the first tear you have shed in many moons, Ezra looks over at you and catches you in the act.
“Are you alright, Sunflower?” He asks with concern laced in his voice. He would reach out to comfort you through physical touch were he not afraid to overstep and offend you.
“Yes, I’m fine,” you brush off before flashing a soft smile at him. Though, he is not convinced. “It’s beautiful; you have a raw talent for composing. It sounds like a lush place, nothing like around here. What is ‘the Green’?”
“A never-ending stretch of greenery and tall trees. At times, I can faintly smell the aroma of the dirt, muddied by the rain.”
“Where is it?” You ask, a slight hope forming in your heart that you may be able to visit someday.
“Ah, it resides only in my dreams, I’m afraid. A place my subconscious has manifested for me to visit during my slumber.”
“It sounds heavenly,” you add in a whisper.
Ezra is stunned; in his youth, he has composed small poems and sonnets such as the one he just recited to you and each time he dared to share them with anyone, he always got the same response. Classmates teased him and called him a freak or queer and he never felt any desire to share his work again. Yet, with you, your gleaming eyes directed to him with such intrigue, he felt compelled to share once again. And the response this time warms his heart.
“It can be. Then again, it feels quite lonesome as well. Such a colossal stretch of land, yet I am the only one there.”
“It must be my own desire to be free of prying eyes and ears that makes it sound appealing. I did not consider how it has been for you during your travels. Forgive me, Ezra,” you say, your eyes shining with guilt and he looks deeply into them, a touch of gold streaking in his irises as the sun flashes across his face.
“You have nothing to apologize for, dear Sunflower. I understand your desires. If I had also grown in a town such as this, I would gladly welcome a visit to the Green.”
You nod your understanding, but a twinge of guilt hits you as you consider how poorly Ezra must have been treated when he first arrived. You do not wish to ask and ruin the peacefulness of this moment, though you vow to keep it in mind to ask at a later time. For now, you will enjoy your company with Ezra under the large oak tree, heart happily beating in your chest with someone to finally share time with.
Chapter Two || Chapter Four
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♡ꜜ bed of spider webs﹫mark lee
this is part of “the spiderverse project” series !
friends - chase atlantic (nostalgia)
pairing: mark x reader (f) ft. johnny and jaehyun.
genre: angst, fluff, smut with too much plot, spiderman!mark, college!au, enemies to friends to lovers.
warnings: violence, mention of blood, language, stupid decisions, mention of drugs (johnny smokes weed in like one scene), spider bite, one short scene of attempted robbery, one short fight scene, trespassing, unprotected sex (be safe everyone), dirty talk, choking, fingering, oral, uses of spider webs during the sex scene, some praising and degradation, i think that’s it ?
word count: 26k, this is the longest thing i’ve ever written.
synopsis: where you hate Mark Lee because he’s everyone’s favourite, to both students and teachers. if there’s a number one, there’s a number two, and that’s you. however, after a strange event in a lab, his grades crush down, leaving the number one spot vacant for your very eyes, but as everyone’s favourite looks more and more miserable, you can’t help but worry about him, not knowing that he became the famous friendly neighbourhood superhero that saved you that one night.
a/n: this doesn’t take place in any particular city, don’t worry webs aren’t used for anything that kinky. also, this took so fucking long to write.
Miss Park likes to think that despite her age, she has a great memory. She finds pride in remembering most - if not all - of her student’s names, with a vague memory of their baby faces, if they were lucky enough. The now old lady also liked to think that she was a nice and soft kindergarten teacher, treating every student the same way, giving them the same amount of attention.
After all, her class was the first of many other classes and grades, and she wanted it to be a great first experience for everyone. Retired, and only possessing pictures to refresh her memory from time to time, if there’s one student the wrinkly old lady was still fond of, no matter how many years after he had left her school, it was the only Mark Lee.
In her rocking chair, she didn’t even need a picture to remember dark locks, small bangs above his soft eyes, she didn’t need anyone to remember her first meeting with the now successful college student. The lady sometimes likes to tell stories from her working days and her favourite students always have an appearance in those stories. Those stories where her eyes become bright with what looks like small tears and adoration.
See, almost sixteen years ago, the teacher was doing her job pretty well. She had the experience, knew every solution to every problem, she was one of the oldest and most respected teachers of the area, really, she was at the pick of her career. She was working in a small and one of the only kindergartens of the city, a small, one floored building in a calm area, near a public parc.
After so many years giving her energy to prepare young kids to the world, she had seen a lot. From kids saying weird things they heard once, other kids drawing almost creepy imageries, to talented and well-behaved students, she saw it all.
Most importantly, she saw a lot of what she calls “First Days”. First days of school where the mother leaves her child for the first time. She saw kids crying for their parents while they hesitated to walk back and leave, she saw kids waving to their parents with a smile while they were the one crying, she saw the loud and unstoppable crying of a child that doesn’t want to be here.
These days are all unforgettable and unique in their own way, but really, she would never forget Mark Lee’s first day.
Winter had started pretty early, that September of two thousand and two, it was cold like it was the high of winter, just after all the new year celebrations. Every kid was more or less wrapped in a large coat, every time accessories with a matching beanie and scarf, even gloves sometimes.
She remembers greeting every kid like always, offering her best smile for the best first impression, reassuring worried parents and comforting new kids. The teacher also remembers thinking that every kid had been a bit reluctant to leave their parent but none crying yet. And there he had arrived, three years old Mark Lee, looking like a miniature businessman.
To do such a job, you had to be fond of kids, but - oh, how Miss Park felt herself melt in front of the smiley, small boy. The long black coat he was wearing matched with his father’s who was readjusting his son’s backpack with an equally fond smile, giving him a few last bits of advice.
The back pack was something colourful, she remembers, a blue off-brand backpack with cars on them, she could tell he was from a middle-class family, like almost every kid. She watched from afar as Mark Lee’s father went down, a knee on the floor, carefully taking a camera out of his pocket. Without complaining, small Mark Lee took place near the door, letting the teacher detail him a little bit more, giving his father his best smile as the flash went on.
That was her first memory of Mark Lee. This, alongside, his everlasting smile as he entered her class, dark, short locks bouncing at his every step he took with his brand-new white sneakers he promised his dad not to ruin, and the small wave he gave before the men left, giving both a smile to his son and his son’s new teacher, his footsteps echoing on the faux marble floor on the school.
One thing that Miss Park really liked about Mark Lee, was how helpful he was, and she saw it the first day.
Things are never calm and peaceful in a kindergarten class, especially when it’s the first day. So the lady wasn’t so shocked when she heard cries before she even saw the child making them. Echoing in the corridor, the teacher could distinguish a mother’s voice, trying to encourage her child, but never did the cries stopped.
As they got closer to her class, Miss Park gave one last look to the room. Kids were already playing at different spots, most of them were curious about the big dollhouse and the car carpet, no one was biting anyone, she could give the last child her full attention.
A look out of the door, and she immediately saw the woman in distress trying to stop her child from making a scene, rubbing her back, bouncing her body lightly, up and down. But nothing made it better, if anything, as soon as the young girl saw the outline of the class and all those kids she didn’t know, her cries were even louder. Mother greeted the teacher like she could, with an apologetic smile, teacher’s bright and reassuring smile never faded.
Miss Park doesn’t remember everything perfectly but soon enough, the crying child was in her arms as she gestured to the mother to go and leave quickly. She remembers the messy hair, she could see the attempt at a braid, the wrinkled shirt and most importantly, the big and sparkly, innocent eyes the girl had, alongside the crocodile tears rolling down her chubby cheeks.
Miss Park probably made an attempt to calm the child down, as she usually does, but what she remembers is the slight tug of her dress she felt. Delicate, a small head fisting the fabric of her flower dress as she looked down to a Mark Lee that had just finished taking off his coat and shoes.
She remembers kneeling, the small girl’s face that was hiding in her neck looking at who was bothering her comfort session but never did Mark erase his small smile, his hand handing something to the teacher. Cooing, the lady took what he was giving her, a tissue he took from his backpack, sitting just below the coat. “See, Y/N. Mark is nice, he gave you a tissue.”
Perhaps. Perhaps Mark was, or is, nice. But that doesn’t change how much you hate him, since day one. Maybe you were one of Miss Park’s favourite student, but Mark was the favourite student. See, years pass, people change, life goes by, but never did Mark stopped being the number one, leaving you the bitter second place.
He had always been every student’s favourite, boys and girls. He was good at sports, but definitely the best at dancing. He was one of the first kids chosen to be part of any team for any sport ever, people would actually fight to get the two of you in their team and somehow, after years, they knew that putting you two against each other would make a great fight for the win.
They said the dance club didn’t have a leader but he was the main men, you didn’t join the club but word has it that if you walked by the dance room when class ended, you would hear one pair of foot rhythmically tapping the floor, him and only him practised that hard. It was also said that everyone in the club would turn to him to seek advice and approval.
Imagine your shock when Mark Lee was seen on TV for some dancing competition, thankfully you don’t have a lot of memories of that time but one thing was sure. The next day, as the boy walked down the grey hallways, everyone had eyes for him and only him.
He was nice and helped everyone, he had good grades and still, somehow, was seen like a cool kid to hang out with, most people wanted to be his friend. Even though, with all the teenager movies you’ve seen, good grades and popularity aren’t compatible. You really didn’t know how he did it, but since junior high school, where the sense of competition started growing within you, you’ve had the theory that perhaps, he sold his soul to the devil for both good grades and popularity.
He even was every teacher’s favourite, always the one who could go out for the cool tasks, always the one in charge, always the one praised.
Alright, maybe you were exaggerating. You had a few great tasks too, but you still lived in Mark Lee’s shadow, or at least, you thought so. No matter what you did, he was still a bit better than you, and it was driving you insane. You could complain about him to your friends, to your family, even. Mark Lee was a name that left your mouth with venom and disgust. So obviously, when high school arrived, everyone knew you two were mortal nemesis.
Puberty took a bit of time to do its job on you, only hitting you towards the very end of high school, but it definitely didn’t forget about Mark. That’s another thing your then materialistic young mind hated about him, he had the grades, he even had the looks. Now that you think about it, it’s like he never even had an ugly period, and if somebody asked you, that was just unfair, the universe hated you.
When puberty was doing its job on Mark Lee, making him taller, his features sharp but somehow still holding pieces of his baby face, he was one of the most popular in high school, while you preferred staying out of drama and whatever popular kids do.
However, it was hard to stay completely out of drama when Mark Lee found extremely funny to remind you that he was better than you, sometimes turning around in the middle of class to show you his grade, other times going as far as waiting for you near your locker. His once innocent and kind smile had turned into an everlasting superior smirk, the one that said, I am better than you, we both know it, everyone knows it. Your competition was in the public eye.
God knows you tried to outrun him in at least one discipline. You tried dancing, even if you were good at it, he was still better, with a lot more practice. You tried getting popular, which was a lost cause before you ever tried, Mark practically ruled the school. You tried getting better grades than him, but he was always, always, one small point ahead of you.
Most of the time, unknowing teachers would be amazed by the two of you, at how you two always seemed to be the top two students, always one tiny step apart. Sometimes, they would even ask for the two of you to do a project together, to which you would always firmly and strongly disagree too, while Mark had the same smirk on his face.
However, one year, you found it. His weakness. And really, you should’ve thought about it way before. You’ve always been better than him at drawing, since kindergarten. He was so bad at art that he couldn’t colour inside the lines, he couldn’t draw one decent looking circle, he couldn’t understand the underlying meaning of a piece of art.
And finally, you found something you were better at, something he couldn’t do as perfectly as you did. Art classes quickly became your favourite classes and the original intent of outrunning him strangely faded to actual interest in every type of art.
You would never, ever admit it, but in a way, it’s because, and thanks to Mark Lee that you found your way. As he filled his inscriptions for universities specialized in the scientific field, you were filling yours with art schools, art universities. That’s why, at the end of high school, you really, really thought he was gone. Out of your sight, out of your life. No more competitions, no more Mark Lee.
But boy, you were wrong.
You’ll always remember your first day at your new university. You’ve dreamed about it, you’ve dreamed about Mingtian. You may have asked for multiple universities, you prayed to get to Mingtian, one of the continent’s top university. Everything was in your favour. You had moved out of your parent’s home, finally getting the independence you so long craved for, you had your dorm. You would make new friends, finally study something you liked, really, what could go wrong?
At first, nothing did. The weather was nice, the sun was out as you took your first step on campus, you were amazed by how big the campus was. Your first class was as amazing, you never ever liked being in class so much. And you made new friends. Yes, they weren’t in your field, but still.
You met Johnny at your local café. You were exploring the area, trying to find a place to study where you found the small café at the corner of a street, brown brinks and beige furniture. It was welcoming, the scent of coffee and pastries taking over your nose as soon as you took a step in.
Johnny was too occupied to welcome you, another worker did. However, he messed your order up and insisted on letting you get a free croissant, and that’s how the two of you became friends.
He told you he was Korean, lived for over a decade in America. He told you about his city and about his studies. You weren’t surprised when he told you he was at Mingtian, in the dorm just in front of yours. He was new as well and was studying music. Two artists meet and conversation flows easily, quickly, you two become good friends despite the differences. Johnny is the type of guy that doesn’t study until the last minute and waste every free moment partying or working on his music, but one thing is sure, he’s a good friend.
So much so that a month into the school year, when he finds out that he’s you’re only friend you’ve made yet, he insists on introducing you to his new music major friend.
Jaehyun, the other music major, was probably the sweetest person you’ve ever met. The first time you saw him at one of Johnny’s frat house party, he was screaming the lyrics of a song at the top of his lungs, the next day, he was making his mom’s secret recipe to cure any headache.
Quickly, the blond became one of your close friends, he would help you with some art project since he was extremely photogenic, and you would help him practice his vocals when Johnny was too busy working.
As said, Johnny’s frat hosted a lot of parties. If anyone heard some loud bass outside, there was a ninety-five per cent chance that it came from the infamous frat house. To be fair, when you first stepped into your new university, you didn’t think you would ever attend a frat party, but Johnny and Jaehyun both forced you to come, Johnny made it a point to introduce you to new friends every single time.
You can’t remember how many times you walked into the house, walking like a lost puppy, looking for one of your two friends submerged in a wave of college student’s body dancing to the new hit. Vision blocked by a mixture of blinding lights, artificial smoke and weed smoke before you finally found them, moulded into an old couch. You would slowly make your way to them, looking at the new friend they had that night, Johnny would finally, catch a glimpse of you and introduce you as “Y/N that doesn’t have a lot of friends.
Tonight is one of those nights.
When you walk out after waving goodbye to your dorm neighbour, you step a foot outside. It’s still the middle of winter, and you definitely feel it as a cold wind doesn’t need much force to pass through your white blouse. The sky is starting to get dark, the lights of the campus would light up at any moment, and you just figure you should walk to the frat house quickly. Closing your coat in front of your chest, you take quick steps around the campus. It’s surprisingly quiet outside, the heels of your boots hitting the ground at your every step. For once, you actually wanted to go to that party, which was a first. After a full week of finals, you needed to relax a bit, and what was better than a party with your friends.
The lights flicker a moment, before lightening the ground and the grass around the few frat houses. From afar, you can see a few college students having an anti-party in front of the doors, their silhouettes visible every time the colourful lights cast on them. You can’t really make up the song until you’re a few meters away from the house, where one of the members greet you. See, you may not have a lot of friends like Johnny says, but he doesn’t see that he actually made you a bit more popular, at least more popular than you were in high school.
The smell of alcohol and weed take over your senses as you enter the house, squinting your eyes, trying to distinguish a few faces. You know the house pretty well now, making your way towards the living room, you have to stand on your toes to find Johnny. You can’t see if Jaehyun’s here, but you don’t think too much anyways and make your way towards the back of the room.
Sweaty bodies still affect you as much as they did when you first entered a party, holding your hands up to create something that imitates your comfort zone as you navigate between drunk students. Dodging hands and unsteady red cups, once you get to the other side of the dancefloor, you pass by a few other students as Johnny finally notices you.
“Y/N !” You hear his voice before even reaching him, having to abruptly stop as two girls run up the stairs. “Everyone, this is Y/N, she doesn’t have a lot of friends here.”
At this, you were supposed to roll your eyes and deny, like you’ve been doing for the past five parties or so, but once the path clears in front of you and you finally take in exactly who’s sitting next to your friend, you freeze.
“Fancy seeing you here.”, is the first thing he says. There, sitting next to your friend, in your friend’s frat house, in your university, is none other than Mark Lee. God knows you didn’t miss that smirk, and it didn’t change at all. His pink lips match the rose hue that colour his cheeks, probably because of the alcohol or the heat. Tugging upwards to hide half of his eyes, his pupils stay locked on your figure, a few dark brown locks falling in front of his eyes. You notice that he changed his hairstyle, parted in the middle, showing his glowy skin. He’s wearing a loose shirt, collarbones showing as one of his arm’s behind the couch, the other stretched on his leg as he holds a cup as well.
Reacting quite slowly, Johnny’s eyes move between you, still standing there, and his new medicine student friend.
“Oh, you know her ?”, he finally asks, stretching his hand out so you can take it. You hesitate for a moment, suddenly you really, really don’t want to be here. Even, why is he here? You forgot about him, in a few months only, you thought he was gone for good, doing god knows what in another city.
Johnny gives you a questioning look, and for a good reason. You’re here, looking at Mark like he’s an apparition, an apparition of your past, and him, he’s looking at you with a smile, way too proud of himself. You can’t run away, Johnny would probably drag you back, so you have to act normal, you figure.
You didn’t know your mouth was slightly open before you close it to swallow your saliva, and you grab Johnny’s hand before he tugs you towards him.
“I think I’ve seen her around my high school a few times, I’m not quite sure.”, Mark responds, a smile still clear only his lips only for you to see as you let Johnny guide your body, forcing you on his lap. The audacity, he really dared to act like he hasn’t known you for almost all his life, a few sits away at every class.
If Mark could take a picture of this very moment, he definitely would. The way your eyes look round and big like the first time he ever saw you and for once, it’s like you’re missing some words to finally respond, really this party started out great for him, he really didn’t regret coming.
A small laugh moves his chest, taking a moment to take in your figure, curious eyes scanning over you both and Johnny, the same glint he has dancing in his eyes since he was a child. He stays silent for a moment, he wonders for a moment if you’re the girl Johnny had been talking about for the past week and unconsciously, you get a bit more comfortable on his lap.
That’s how you figured out Mark Lee was still somehow in your school. And you should’ve thought about it, really. Mingtian is a well-known university, it’s as big as a small city, the scientific course is one of the best in the whole country. You should’ve known that he had applied here as well, but you can’t really blame yourself, can you? Even if you knew he also got accepted here, the chances to bump into him reminded so, so slim. The scientific department was at one end of the university, the art side a completely other end. But he had to be there, he had to know two of your closest friends, and he had to befriend them.
Your theory’s that he befriended them just to annoy you, and it worked.
Mark started hanging out with Johnny and Jaehyun even more, and of course, the two wanted you to tag along. You didn’t want to risk losing them just because of him so after a bit of argumentation and a lot, a lot of talking to yourself, you agreed.
At first, it was just some Saturday nights spent in either Johnny’s or Jaehyun’s dorm room, a random movie playing in the background and mostly university gossip about people you barely know filling the room. You have to say that you prefer those nights in Jaehyun’s room, Johnny has the habit to smoke a lot during the weekends, you always end up leaving the dorms with your clothes smelling like weed and having to justify yourself to everyone you encounter.
You also like Jaehyun’s room better because he can open his bed and make more place and two more really comfortable big cushions. Most of the time, you’re on the bed with either Jaehyun or Johnny, Mark standing as far away as possible.
At first, you had to say that you really thought you’d end up jumping at Mark’s throat after the first few hours, but strangely enough, he was civilized. Never did he mention your weird phases during middle-high school, never did he throw any major shade, making those nights a lot more enjoyable than you thought.
However, the competition still remains, even though you two are in two different fields. You like to think that art isn’t about learning every by heart but rather feeling and understanding, voicing your opinion with argumentation and that medicine is more about pushing everything in your head, just learning again and again. Mark doesn’t understand that, or rather he understands when he wants. He understands that your work might be a bit hard when he gets a grade lower than yours, he doesn’t when he gets a grade higher than yours, but never will he admit that.
Remember about the coffee shop? It quickly became your spot to study. Small and quiet, your friend worked there, which meant a lighthearted pause every now and then, their pastries also rapidly became a guilty pleasure. They were pricy, sure, but oh how you loved spending a bit of your money in one of their black chocolate éclair, or one of their cups of vanilla coffee.
However, Mark quickly heard about the shop. After all, his friend worked there so wouldn’t he come by a few times, when his oh so busy schedule allowed it.
Sometimes, he sat near the window, never too close from him since again, the shop was small, sometimes he came right during Johnny’s pause and had to tag along and ended up on your table. One thing was sure, he never ever missed a chance to shove his newest grade in your face.
Strangely, seeing him became less and less weird. On your part, you became less tense around him, actually making small talk here and there for Johnny and Jaehyun’s biggest joy, but never did it erase the everlasting competition and the underlying hatred you two had for each other, it was just, hidden.
Johnny and Jaehyun were easily fooled, thinking that the initial weird tension between the two of you had slowly fated, they started making plans for what the called “friend dates.” The first one was planned by Johnny who found a cheap but rather interesting and promising restaurant near the university, and that’s how you ended up in this Italian restaurant.
A yawn escaped your lips before you could even hide it behind your hand, both your arms stretched above your hands as you leaded back on your chair. A small smiled was offered by Johnny while Jaehyun was going back from his phone placed on the small iron table to his position, arm behind his chair as he looked behind his back, scanning the area.
You don’t really know if it was a restaurant or more a place with a lot of small restaurants, either way, it was really pretty, you had to admit. Slow European songs were playing, lights hanging everywhere, carpets with different designs everywhere. It smelled like pasta and pizza, as cliché as it sounds and most importantly, it was crowded. So crowded.
It took around ten minutes to find a four places table, and now that you were sitting down, on this Friday night, it took everything in your system to not fall asleep right here and now. Jaehyun was, on the other hand, too hyper. Looking everywhere, checking his phone every two minutes, he didn’t hesitate to throw a few insults here and there as Mark was getting more and more late.
“Where is he ?“, asked Johnny again, yet never losing his patience.
“I don’t know, he isn’t answering his phone and this kid NEVER leaves it.”, for a moment you wonder if he’s actually upset or if he’s exercising his acting skills, the pout on his lower lip more and more prominent.
“Wait a few minutes, I’ll go to his dorm if he doesn’t show up.” You and Jaehyun nod at this, only to be cut by heavy footsteps of someone running.
Even with all the people and all the general noise, your attention gets caught by the few people complaining about someone pushing them without even giving a single apology.
Jet black hair comes bouncing at his every step, a not so apologetic smile contorting his features whenever his shoulder bumps into someone by mistake. You’ve never seen him this happy, his lips stretching up soon as he finally sees the three of you, his eyes disappearing for a moment. Before he reaches your table, you notice the paper he’s carefully holding in his hands, sometimes holding it to his chest or up in the air whenever someone might damage it.
Jaehyun, on the other hand, notices the phone his holding in his other hand, the one he didn’t care to check for the past ten minutes.
No matter how questioning your looks are, never did his smile fade, both his hands slapping the iron table as soon as he reached it.
“Finally, we were about to call the police and report a missing child.”, was the first thing the blonde found appropriate to say, even though it was well obvious the brunette has something important to say. Nevertheless, his smile never faded as he took a few seconds to catch his breath, his head hanging low for a moment.
“Mark, take a seat.”, Johnny finally spoke, gesturing to the seat right between the second music major and you.
Flopping without any grace on the grey chair, Mark finally sat down, his respiration a bit steadier, he flipped the white paper over.
“Guess who just got a one-week internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory ?”
An internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory. Jaehyun’s pout somehow disappeared after a few seconds just to congratulate the lucky boy, Johnny stayed true to himself and got excited as if he was the one who got the internship. You had to congratulate him, it would look weird right, if you didn’t congratulate your so-called friend, plus you didn’t want to bring the mood down just because of a bit of bitterness. You found yourself congratulating him almost naturally, if it wasn’t for the tight smile you gave him and the full one he returned, you really didn’t get the chance to see him a lot like this back in the days.
After the initial mixture of shock, joy and excitement came down, you finally all got up to get something to eat in this big place, finally settling down as Johnny decided to bring a toast to Mark with his sunset cocktail.
For once, you weren’t really jealous, after all, you were well placed to know that Mark worked hard to get that internship, you were just a foot away when Johnny made him act his interview out at least once a week to make sure it was perfect. Finally, the tense smile left for a sincere one, who were you to hold grudges from years ago and spit on your friend’s, or almost friend’s, success.
At some point in the night, way too many cocktails were drowned and tested, with alcohol or without, at the end of the night the three boys were at least a bit tipsy, you were at least buzzed by their loud discussion and laughs. You know your teenage self would be screaming at you, but here’s the thing, you aren’t a teenager anymore, you’re a young adult, as they like to call you, and you want to behave like so.
Your hand finds Mark’s arm, catching his attention as you lightly tap the fabric of his shirt. The white button-up he was wearing for the interview was starting to get wrinkled, but he certainly didn’t care, his sleeves pushed up, the way he didn’t even fold them were making you slightly anxious.
You almost laughed at the puzzled look he gave you for a moment, a smile stretched your lips as you finally spoke. “Congrats on the internship, Mark.”
One thing was sure, Mark had a lot of hope for this internship. After all, the fact that he worked there for a week looked good on his student’s dossier, but if they also added that he worked hard and well, that could be an important point for a future employer. Maybe he dreamed a bit too much, after all, he was on his first year but, if they saw that he worked hard and most importantly, was serious and had potential, maybe they would keep him in mind after he graduated.
Needless to say, Mark was putting a lot of hope in this. On his first day, he wore some formal clothes, something similar to the button-up he wore for the interview and he swore he couldn’t stop smiling when they gave him the white blouse and a little tag with “Mark Lee” written on it.
The laboratory was huge, even after a month he was sure he could get lost in it but luckily for him, someone took him under their wing. Doyoung had been working there for almost two years now, he made sure to make Mark visit everything the first day, would sit with him during lunch and introduce him to his friends.
Doyoung knew what he was doing, he knew he was giving the brunette a chance to make contacts and perhaps play with them after he graduated. The men quickly grew fond of Mark, actually seeing a younger him in the boy.
On the first day, he didn’t get to do a lot, but it was good enough. After all, they made important things there, like drugs, and if he messed up, a lot of people would suffer from it. He knew he wouldn’t get to play with some experiments but watching was already a great experience for him.
After three days, Mark didn’t miss the opportunity to loudly enter the coffee shop pretty late in the afternoon, the only day his internship allowed him to get out early, not that he actually wanted to leave as soon as possible. For a good hour or two, he explained everything about the building, what they did and what he saw, no need to say that when he started talking about some experience they were doing for some new drug and what chemicals they were using, your art student self, the two music student didn’t quite catch everything. But being the good friends you three were, you would nod and listen anyways.
You have to say your interest got poked when he mentioned the closed room he didn’t visit yet, apparently, they kept small animals there to test drugs on them.
“Animal testing.”, you simply said, the tone in your voice enough to project your opinion on the subject.
“They’re actually trying to reduce animal testing until at some point, they’ll just stop doing it.”, Mark said, taking a sip of his black tea, the same he drank every time he stayed a bit at the coffee shop, glancing over at Jaehyun. The boy was big on cruelty-free products and even had one of Lush’s bags to prove it, one of his eyebrows raising, telling him to continue.
“Basically they’re testing on spiders right now, but as time goes by they’ll start testing on cells and human tissue.”, he said, almost too casually. What he didn’t say though, was that he asked about animal testing to Doyoung just to inform you and Jaehyun. Yes, he also was against animal testing but he knew the two of you were a lot, lot more passionate by the subject.
“Wait, spiders ?”, you asked, after you finished your cup of chocolate. You didn’t even know testing on spiders were a thing, you knew about rat, mouse, and rabbit. Maybe you didn’t really hold spiders close to your heart but it didn’t mean you couldn’t feel bad for them, not now that you knew some weird drug were being tested on them just for humans.
“Yeah, the room I was talking about earlier, that’s where they keep them. Doyoung said he would show me tomorrow and I don’t know if I’m more excited or completely terrified to be in a room with like, thousands of different spiders.”
“Can you imagine if someone like, leaves the door open and all the spiders escape.”, that’s the only thing Johnny found appropriate to say, a noise of disgust coming from both you and Jaehyun and you were sure he felt the same shiver run down his spine as you looked at Johnny in horror, who didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Everything’s pretty secured there, not a single chance that a spider could escape his box, even less the whole fucking troupe guys.”
And oh, if he knew.
Mark liked to think that he was a rather cautious young man, for a lack of better words. He always looked both ways before crossing, he was always cautious when driving, he never got in any sticky situations, but really, he couldn’t know what was coming.
As he was standing in front of the white door, he waited like the good student he was for Doyoung. Now that he took the time to think about it, he could really see himself working here, some people already knew him, greeting him as they walked by. Deep down he was anticipating the last day, but he would cherish this week and all the opportunities he had the chance to have.
“Good afternoon Mark.”, Doyoung’s voice could be heard from the other end of the corridor, lightly singing the college student’s name. His pitch-black hair were a bit messy, which was particularly strange for the men who was always clean on his image. The sleeves of his white blouse had been crunched up to his elbows, and only then did Mark remember that Doyoung had a reunion for a new drug right before.
A polite smile stretched the boy’s lips as he turned to face the one he considered his mentor now, putting his hand forward so he could shake his.
“Alright, the reunion’s not over yet so, I’m going to unlock the door for you because I trust you. But Mark, make sure to push the door when you leave and it’ll lock itself.”
Only then did Mark notice the way his eyebrows furrowed for a moment, he didn’t dare ask him to stay or even talk about his reunion, not with how quickly he whipped his card out of his pocket, scanning the back. His thumb quickly tapped in the code he seemed to remember by heart, before pushing the door and taking a step back.
“Or you l-“, started Mark, never getting the chance to finish his sentence.
“I have to go kiddo, be careful and don’t let them run away.”, as the only thing he said before walking away, throwing finger guns at the youngest before quickly walking back to the reunion. Really out of his usual state.
Alright, maybe that’s not how Mark imagined his day, after all, he never entered any room without anyone’s supervision, he doubted that Doyoung wasn’t breaking some rule by letting him, a young college student, in a room full of spiders with God knows what in their system. The boy even took a few seconds to rip his eyes away from the figure of the brunette quickly walking away, not quite realizing until the corridor went silent as his footsteps faded away.
Mark didn’t really want to stay in that room alone, he wanted someone to tell him about the species and they were used for, but now he was sure he would just look at them for a few minutes before walking away. When finally, he dared looking at the unlocked door, he at least had to say that it was quite intriguing, from afar. The blue hue coming from the slightly opened door had the power to spike his curiosity, what sounded like a powerful AC helping the room to stay rather fresh.
After all, if it was opened, he could at least give it a look, right? Shrugging his shoulders to himself, his hand easily pushed the wooden door, revelling the squarish room to the college student. Surprisingly, the room wasn’t too blue, he could at least see in front of him, make out the numerous cages, vivarium for the spiders. At first, he didn’t see them. His head to the side, Mark took the first step in, being careful not to close the door behind him, afraid he would lock himself in. Against each wall, he could count three lines of four vivariums, all the same size. They all looked quite the same, some sand or some dirt, some plants and a branch.
Nothing out of the ordinary, really.
His attention first got caught by the way the light danced on his skin, how his rings would catch the blue neon. The room was fairly silent, aside from the vibrating sound of the AC, he took a few footsteps, getting in the middle of the room. At first, it looked like all the vivariums were empty, only when he walked a bit more did he notice some movement.
Keeping his hands behind his back, Mark got curious for a moment. Behind one large wooden branch, at first, he didn’t see anything before a black spider’s legs finally made its way on the piece of tree. The college student didn’t really flinch, he never had a fear for spiders so he didn’t even need to be afraid when they were safely locked in these boxes.
When finally, the spider showed itself, not paying any attention to the men in front of its house, Mark had to say that at least, he never saw any spider that looked like that. Pitch black, he was sure the spider wasn’t noticeable in the dark, making it even more dangerous. Long, skinny legs, a red dot was in the middle of its small body.
Looking for anything with a bit of information, Mark searched around the box, nothing really showed the name of the spider of its species, maybe they stored the documents on top of the boxes, he wondered for a moment.
He was tall enough to reach the top of the vivariums, but he couldn’t quite see it. Getting a bit closer to the box, he made sure to not leave any fingerprints on the glass before getting on his toes, his hand flat on the top.
Mark could make the opening of the vivarium, making sure to avoid it, he searched for a few seconds more but never did his hand bump into any paper. His hand did bump into something, but he didn’t know what, not paying much attention before passing his hand one last time. He didn’t hide his deception when he couldn’t find anything, his eyes getting lost for a moment in the vivarium in front of him. On his toes, he could see almost everything in the box, but strangely, he didn’t see any spider.
Looking for a moment from side to side, he could see the other spiders, every one different from the other. One finally got his attention, yellowish body, but before he could even look at the insect a bit more, a small gasp escaped his lips.
Immediately taking his hand away, Mark tumbled backwards, almost bumping into the stacks of vivarium behind him. Confused look contorted his features as he took a moment to realize. His hand probably touched a loose piece of metal, his skin probably getting hurt on the sharp object, right? Under the blue light, his blood looked almost black, the two dots so noticeable on the skin of his palm.
Two dots, two dots. The skin around the two holes seemed to burn, his hand growing numb. His eyes widen in realization, they didn’t miss the small black object moving on the floor, looking a bit lost. Mark almost lifted his feet to crush the animal, now that he was looking at it a bit more, it wasn’t black, but brown. He must’ve bitten him and was still on his hand when he backed away, the fall was probably really disorientating for the spider.
Mark couldn’t believe his eyes, one of the spiders had escaped. A curse escaped his lips, his hand flat on the wound, making sure to not leave any trace of blood on the floor. For a quick second, he didn’t really know what to do, his heart was still calming down from the pain of the bite, his mind not quite cooperating after realizing he had one of these spiders in front of him.
He had to think quickly, and leave as quickly. His valid hand took a tissue from his back pocket, one he always carried with him. Not thinking twice, he threw the fabric on the spider before it could run away again, and before it could escape the dark prison, Mark quickly picked it up, almost running to the vivarium.
The college student’s eyes couldn’t leave his dorm’s selling, the index of his left hand tracing the homemade bandage he had for his wound. After what happened, Mark quickly ran to the bathroom, making sure no one was there. He wasn’t sure what he risked, after all, he didn’t let the spider escape, it escaped on its own, but he didn’t want to put Doyoung in trouble for letting him, a young college student, all alone in such a place.
Maybe it was too late and maybe it was unnecessary but he bought his lips to his mound anyway, sucking to blood before spitting, he saw that in a documentary once. He wasn’t even sure if the spider was dangerous, sure he was a bit lightheaded from the chock but his body didn’t seem to react.
He didn’t want anyone to know what happened in that room, he didn’t want it to be heard, so he acted like nothing happened. He made sure to close the door behind him and even stayed a bit more before finally going back to his dorm.
Everything was normal, really, at least he tried to convince himself. He quickly walked back to his dorm, made some food, slipped into his more comfortable clothes.
He had been eating pasta for the past week and decided to switch it up for some ramen that night, picking his grey sweatpants and a random hoodie before getting under his blanket, tomorrow was his day off and he could treat himself to some Netflix and fall asleep as late as he wanted as long as it wasn’t after the break of dawn.
Really, everything was normal, he almost forgot about the bite, if it wasn’t for exactly three episodes into Umbrella Academy, around one in the morning. Mark’s wound started itching, at first he didn’t pay much attention, he didn’t want to. But the more he ignored it, the more he felt like the wound was burning, more than it did when the spider bit him.
Lightly, his fingernails scratched the bandage, he didn’t want to hurt himself even more but the itching was so annoying and loud that he unconsciously clenched his jaw, the bone enlightens by his laptop screen. He had to say, he might have panicked a bit when his heart started beating loudly in his ribcage, his ears growing hot, he couldn’t even hear the soft dialogue of his episode.
The more time passed, the more his focus on his screen faded, he couldn’t even pay attention to what was happening as he tried to control his breathing. Under his sweatshirt, his chest was moving up and down irregularly, was he having a panic attack?
It never happened to him, but somehow he knew it wasn’t that, it was something else. Cold sweat appeared on his hairline, and that’s when he really started panicking.
Moving his laptop to the side, the screen almost hit the wall of his dorm room, moving his blanket away to completely expose his body to the cold air of the night but it didn’t even change anything. His feet on the floor didn’t even help to regulate his body temperature, neither did the half bottle of water he drowned in seconds.
Something was wrong, but never did Mark felt like giving in the panic. His hand quickly found his phone lost in his huge blanket, activating his flashlight, he was quick to raise on his feet, putting aside the way he felt lightheaded and almost dizzy at how quickly he got up.
He didn’t even know if he had the right to walk outside of his room at this hour, to be frank he didn’t really read the rules of his dorm but he needed to go to the bathroom anyway, he needed to splash some water on his face and stop this panic.
The whole process to go to the building’s bathroom was a blur, thankfully he didn’t come across anything and he quickly got a hold of the faucet, letting the water run for a moment. His eyes took a moment to get familiar to the white artificial light of the room, the white walls not making anything to help.
Strangely, he didn’t look weird, nothing was strange about his face, about his appearance. Yes, he looked a bit panicked, a bit sweaty but he didn’t get any allergic reaction so why did he feel so…weird, so bad?
He starred at his figure for a moment. He had to stop giving in to the panic, he had to think rationally, maybe he ate something bad, maybe the ramens weren’t good anymore, maybe he needed sleep. After all, he had a few rough and full days, maybe staying up late wasn’t a good idea. Yes, it was probably something like that.
Bringing his hands under the water running down, he looked at it for a moment. Breathe in, breathe out, before he brought his hands to his face. The cold water sure helped calming his features, his jaw relaxing, it helped cool his temperature.
A sigh left his lips, his shoulders relaxing as he shook his hands, he needed to calm down. His attention got caught once again by the white, homemade bandage, thinking for a few seconds. With the water, the sticky fabric started lifting up from his skin. He just wanted to check, see if it had gotten worse, so the sleepy college student quickly took the bandage off, he could make a new one if he needed to.
For a second, he really thought he was sleepy, for a moment.
The wounds were gone.
[6:39 PM] Jaehyun: Hey dumbass, you’re almost 40 minutes late, where are you?
Mark doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know where his phone is. The vibrations make it sound like his phone’s everywhere at the same time, he almost feels them in his spine, both his hands closing around his ears.
[6:55 PM] Jaehyun: We’ll wait five minutes, not a minute more so you better get your ass here quickly.
The college student desperately tries to understand where he is for a moment, he just woke up in a cold sweat yet again, but he doesn’t even remember falling asleep. His mind is still fogged by sleep, or rather the lack of it. Strangely, the floor’s clean, weirdly clean.
[7:05 PM] Jaehyun: Hey, are you ok?
He doesn’t even know himself.
It’s been a few days since the bite, but he didn’t really keep track since his internship ended.
Since he left the laboratory, he didn’t feel like himself anymore. Truth be told, when the wounds disappeared, he just brushed it off, maybe he bled a little and the wounds were too small for him to see and he didn’t want to become paranoid over such a small incident. But he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt, different. Waking up in a cold sweat became too familiar, he would run to the bathroom and had to change his clothes at least once every night. He quickly ran out of clothes to wear, forcing him to do his laundry multiple times a week.
He didn’t know if nightmares would wake him up, he didn’t remember his dreams, it felt like he didn’t dream at all and just woke up tangled in his sheets, in a pool of his sweat, completely disoriented every time. At first, he thought he was sick, but he didn’t have any fever despite the weird feeling of being slightly out of your body and seeing things your mind creates to trick you.
As the days went by, his muscles felt more and more sore. It started with his arms, at first he thought it was because he forgot to stretch after his sport session, but arms day was last week. It spread to his shoulders, tense and back arched, he only felt at ease when he was resting, laying. Quickly, his legs didn’t resist, and yesterday he couldn’t even study for more than an hour before he felt like all his resources left his body.
He fell asleep on his desk so quickly, all the will in his body couldn’t even keep him awake for more than a few minutes. Once again, dreamless night, he woke up in the dead of the night, cold sweat collecting on his forehead.
Really, these past days only left the shadow of who Mark once was. He barely ate, slept a lot, didn’t get any work done. Even when he slept, he barely got any peace or any energy, he barely felt less sleepy.
All of this, all of this was strange and unusual for him. Mark Lee has always been an energic kid, an energetic men. Never did he ever felt so tired, so out of everything. Mark rather was the type to work even more after school, he had a lot of energy and everyone knew about it, from his parents to his teachers.
At first, he tried to stay calm and find some rational reason. After all, he just started college and it was pretty stressed, he had to admit even if he didn’t like to give in to stress, he just finished a week-long internship where he had a few missions, so really, it must be that.
It could be it but this, this right now, was not normal at all.
When finally, the sleep started fading away, small eyes taking the fading sunlight in, only then did Mark found that he was a bit more alive.
For once in a few days, his body didn’t feel sore, he could stretch a bit and his muscles wouldn’t scream at him. He could fully breathe in, take a deep breath in and look out the window. It was still pretty early but the sun was weirdly down…
His eyes narrowed for a moment as a yawn escaped his lips, one of his hands rubbing his eyes. His head tilted to the side, was the building in front of him…upside down?
He almost laughed, before looking up. That’s when a scream escaped his lips, completely uncontrolled, panicked wide eyes took in his room, just like he left it but upside down. He almost pinched himself, what type of dream was that, he looked again at his room before his eyes focused on his feet.
He was on his ceiling.
And as soon as he realized, taking in his ceiling and the way the sunshine filtered through his blinds from way too close, he fell down. The loud sound echoed in his room, alongside his whine as he rolled on his side, the college student didn’t know but his carpet and thick blanket he left on the floor managed to absorb a bit of the pain.
Whines escaped his lips for a few more seconds as his hands pressed on his arms, he was sure to have bruises there and on his sides, staying there for a few moments.
“What the fuck.”, what the fuck just happened, what the fuck was that? He was on his ceiling, just moments before, he was up there. He didn’t imagine it, it wasn’t a dream, he saw the way the building in front of him was upside down, he saw his bedroom from up there. He couldn’t explain it but he knew he wasn’t hallucinating, he had bruises to prove it, the way he fell in the middle of his room and how bad his arm ached told him he didn’t simply fell from his bed.
“Hey, Mark. Are you ok ?”, a voice came from the door, he couldn’t mistake the voice of Johnny. He certainly wanted to check up on him, heard his body falling from a few meters, or his whines, and wanted to check. The room fell silent for a minute, Mark needing time to register the situation and find how he would respond.
He knocked a few times on the thin wooden door, as thin as the walls clearly, and the young men called for his friend again.
“Uh, yeah. Yes, don’t worry !”, he, himself, wasn’t convinced at all. His voice was somehow still sleepy, shaking slightly. He managed to get up on his elbows, having trouble to even flip on his stomach to face the door.
“Do you need help ?”, asked Johnny, sounding worried. Clearly, he didn’t believe what Mark said in the slightest. The thing is, after months of friendship, Mark had a key to Johnny’s room and Jaehyun’s room, which ultimately meant that Johnny probably had a key to Mark’s room as they were speaking.
Whatever was happening right now, whatever was going on with him, his body or his mind, Mark didn’t want anyone to see it. Both ashamed and scared, him, the well put together from the group, didn’t even want his close friends to see his bruised and tired, sleepy body down on the floor for some reason, he didn��t want anyone to see the bags under his eyes and the way they were big with a mixture of both fear and shock.
He was scared, scared of what was going on, he didn’t want to talk about it to anyone before he, himself, figured it out.
“No, no don’t worry. I’m just tired and…I need sleep.”, was the only thing he managed to get out, his legs kicking his blanket away without any successful result. At his voice, he was sure his friend could tell something was going on inside that room.
“Mark, don’t lie to me.”, the music major said, sounding a bit disappointed. After all, he was his friend and he couldn’t bear having him lying so blatantly and skipping a friend date without a reason. Before he could even respond, Mark heard the distinct noise of a key sliding in his bedroom’s door, understanding quickly that he wasn’t planning on letting him get away so easily.
Without even understanding, his right hand lifted up. It was just a reflex, he didn’t think it would stop his friend from entering his room, it was just a vain attempt but as soon as his hand lifted, guided towards the door, a white string shot out quicker than he could understand.
If his eyes weren’t already wide, they were probably about to pop out. Right in front of his eyes, a white, thick spider web-linked the door to the wall, keeping it from opening. Mouth agape, Mark watched almost horrified as his friend tried to open the door but kept struggling to push it, not knowing what was the problem.
“What the fuck.”
See, Mark Lee is a smart boy. From day one, he used to get those star stickers in kindergarten, he would get high grades in junior high school, always staying at the top of his class and unlike his classmates, his grades didn’t crash once in high school. Somehow, he managed to keep his grades impressively high while keeping a social life. Maybe he had to work a bit more at the start of college but after all, it was superior studies, he had to work.
He was also a smart boy outside of studies, so really, when he couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, he couldn’t help but feel extremely frustrated.
For a good hour after Johnny left, slightly hurt and even more worried, the college student spent a good part of the beginning of the night trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with him. He pinched himself a few times, he tried to wake up but deep down he knew he was already awake, from the moment he saw the sun upside down. He knew he was awake, yet he couldn’t believe his eyes.
When his body finally allowed it, he raised to his feet, checking his body. Nothing. Not a bruise, not even a red-ish area, it was like nothing happened yet again. Maybe then, he would’ve given in to the idea that he was hallucinating, if only he didn’t have the huge spider web in front of his eyes to prove that something was going on.
Hesitant fingers traced the spider web. It came from his hand, or his fingers, he didn’t know, but he put two and two together.
Believe himself or believe science and all he learned so far. If he believed what his teachers, what everyone told him for those past twenty years, he feared he might go crazy. Nothing, no book, no specialist, nothing and no one could explain what was going on with his body. If he believed himself, he took the risk to be seen as a crazy person, a freak, a delusional. But after all, he saw what he could do with his body now, great things, but scary things. If he believed himself, he had to understand by himself, and that’s what he chose.
When finally, after a long night of sleep which was surprisingly helpful, he finally texted you, Johnny and Jaehyun to reassure the three of you, he finally decided to understand things by himself, he almost lost all reason.
See, Mark never really skipped class without a good reason. He was the type to skip maybe once or twice a year, only when he was really sick or had some family emergency, that week, he skipped all his classes. Of course, he made sure to tell his teachers, talking about some cold he got after the internship that ultimately resulted in him being stuck to his bed, he managed to someone build a good enough relationship between most his teachers that they all excused him for the week.
Mark wasn’t really happy about it, he didn’t like skipping class, he knew that at the end of it all he would’ve had stacks of documents and papers and classes to learn, but if what he saw was real, if what he did wasn’t the result of sleepless nights, paranoia and stress, then he couldn’t go out before he understood everything.
Feeding himself with junk food and leftovers, his workout routine was thrown out the window. He didn’t know how, he just knew it had to do with the spider bite, obviously. But he googled, and even read articles about that specific spider that bite him and it was essentially harmless. Yes, maybe it was a bit itchy and would hurt for the first few minutes but after reading all the articles about it from the first three pages of google, Mark could confidently say that a bite from this spider wouldn’t result in hallucinations, fever, cold sweat, anything he experienced. One box was checked.
He thought about going back to the laboratory, but without the pass they took from him on the last day, it was impossible, he just had to deal with that alone for the moment. He then, after hours of researches on spiders, remembered the bite and bruises. His body and skin were undamaged. He knew, it was just logical for him to have at least a bruise on the arm and side he fell, yet nothing was there. He could touch, press, pinch, he felt nothing, ending up with him crossing another box.
Maybe it was the hours of researches, the hours of torturing his mind and turning his brain just to understand what was wrong with him, but somewhere in the night between the first and second day, he decided he would check one of his theories.
His scientific mind told him it was impossible, he would probably end up in the hospital or seriously injured, but after all, his scientific mind wasn’t much help these past few days so he decided to push the thought to the side. Just a knife would be enough, a small cut on his finger he could pass as a simple domestic incident if someone asked about it. Somewhere in the night, in the middle of the campus, Mark sat exactly where he fell. Everything was silent, everyone was pretty much about to fall asleep or studying as he could see all the lights slowly going off one by one room, in the building in front of him. The cold breeze coming from his window faded the sweat collecting on his skin away as he stared a moment at the knife. He was probably going crazy, but he needed to do it, these thoughts kept coming and coming as he took a look around him, papers around his body where he noted all his experiences.
He didn’t think twice, he had to look up as he quickly brushed the cutting knife on the skin of his finger. At least, it wasn’t as bad as a paper cut, the pain wasn’t so bad, perhaps a little hiss escaped his lips as he added a band-aid, but he could deal with it. Quickly, the blood could be seen through the cotton, at least he knows he was really hurt, had a real wound. With his second hand, he grabbed his phone, almost dying, with one swift motion he opened the camera, not paying attention to the message he got. Yes, it was weird, but Mark was ultimately just working on an experiment, and he needed proof and documents to work on.
If tomorrow morning, his wound was still there, he would probably put himself in a hospital.
The sigh that left his lips was loud and clear, letting his back hit his bed, only then did he look a bit more at his phone. He had a few messages from the group chat both the one with a few of his classmates and the other with you, Jaehyun and Johnny. But he also had a private one from none other than you.
[10:23 PM] Y/N: Hey, how are you feeling?
Mark started at the screen for a moment. The men was slightly delusional, Mark was the type of person who thought no one really cared about him, or just because of manners. Sure, you, Jaehyun and Johnny expressed some concerns in the group chat which he quickly brushed off but he didn’t know you cared enough to text him privately. Weirdly, it kind of makes him feel good, like he wasn’t really alone.
Only when the blue bubbles appeared on the screen, disappeared again, before popping up again did he understand that you were typing and erasing, just like he was doing.
[10:25 PM] Mark: Hey, I’m feeling the same to be honest.
And just as he sent the text, you sent one too, a small smile stretching his lips at the message.
[10:25 PM] Y/N: I made some soup today, want some ?
The thing is, you two never saw each other one on one, at least not in the past ten years. Yes, you two got a bit closer, and a lot more civilized since high school but so much more is happening right now, as Mark started yet again at the screen, not knowing what to answer.
You, on the other side, the building just in front of Mark’s dorm, stare at your screen just like he is doing at that exact moment. You can’t really believe yourself but, you do worry about him. You’re kind of obligated to, too, especially when both Jaehyun and Johnny seem pretty worried about the young college student.
See, you’ve also known the men all your life, so when you heard he would be missing for one of your friend dates and that Johnny heard something, someone falling down in his dorm room, you were sure it was the satanic ritual to keep both popularity and good grades. You weren’t too worried at first, since you had to skip a friend date but when you heard the was skipping a whole, and an entire week of school, you couldn’t help but be surprised.
You remember back in high school when he skipped two days in a row and how happy you felt to finally have a few days to breathe, but now, now that you two are somehow between friends and ex-enemies, you really can’t help but wonder.
To add to everything, you didn’t tell Johnny or Jaehyun, but from your room, you had a small view on Mark’s window. Sure, you didn’t see anything, but you saw how his light was always on, it seemed like he wasn’t sleeping, you remember seeing his lights on when you were about to go to sleep and at four in the morning when you needed to go to the bathroom. Even at six in the morning, when you just woke up, his lights were still on.
Perhaps you and Mark didn’t get that along for most of your lives, but you knew he was the type to keep to himself, to not tell anyone what he going through, and again, the fact that he skipped an entire week, refused to see Johnny and seemed to not sleep at all only added to your sense of worry.
That day, you decided to make some soup, both for you who got a cold after your friend date, but also for Mark. Usually, you made food for you only, you rarely had leftovers, but even if your teenager self was screaming at you for the gesture, you had to get used to the idea that you and Mark were friends, and friends look out for each other. It was both an attempt to clarify that you didn’t really hold any grudges against him after all, but also in hopes of making him feel better that you added the Thai soup to a bowl, wrapping it in some transparent paper, you had left.
Isn’t it funny how things change quickly? A few months ago, you thought Mark was long gone from your life, and now you’re almost worried and bringing him soup to his dorm. It’s weird how you also feel anxious, years of hating Mark Lee’s guts would’ve suppressed any feeling for him and yet, here you are frantically tapping your fingers on the hot bowl. Is it too much, too soon? He could’ve denied though, are is it too polite to do so?
Can a few months really change your relationship? Won’t it be weird? You don’t even have the time to think much about all these questions before he opens the door, or at least tries to. You don’t know it but, on the other side, the young men is struggling to rip the thick spider web off, letting a breathy “W-wait, just give me a second” escape from his dry lips.
The young men knew your dorm was ridiculously close, actually he could see your window from his, not that he checked it to make sure you got home or anything, but he didn’t think you’d come so quickly.
The weird and new feeling of goosebumps rising on the back of his neck somehow told him you were close, he had to quickly kick his blanket on his bed, find a way to hide the too many boxes of noodles he had laying around and at least, at the very least, make it look like he was working. Only then did he have the time to give his attention to the web, going back and forth in his bedroom before he found a pair of scissors, hiding both the white thing and tool in a drawer.
Mark hoped he at least looked presentable.
“Mark Lee? Lee Mark ? Mark and you ?”, Yerim asks over the phone, making you roll over on your stomach. You suddenly regret even telling your old high school about last night, the way she pronounces Mark’s name and yours in the same sentence telling enough about how she’s feeling.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”, you whine on your end of the phone, hiding your face in your soft pillow. Really, you needed to tell someone about the night before and both Johnny and Jaehyun were crossed from your list. They didn’t even know that Mark actually knew you quite well back in the days, let alone that the two of you despited each other.
Yerim was the third-best option, she knew the history between you and Mark, was free and wasn’t sick of hearing you complain like many of your friends.
“It is a big deal ?”, she started, her tone almost questioning your point of view. “You’ve been hating his guts for years, Y/N. And you’ve been telling me all about it for years too.”
A deep sigh left your lips, really you didn’t know how to respond. The blonde was right, though. It kind of was a big deal, but you didn’t want to blow such a thing out of proportion. Your fingers ticked at a loose thread coming out of your blanket, a pout forming on your lips. “I knooow.”
Ah, what was Mark Lee doing to you? The night before, when he opened the door and looked like he had run the marathon to clean his bedroom, you couldn’t help but laugh at him, his tense shoulders dropping down as soon as he heard the sound.
You had spent the extremely short walk to his dorm wondering if being alone with him wouldn’t be weird and thankfully, it hadn’t been, at any point of the night. You wonder if him being sick and probably a bit feverish by the look on his face didn’t make the whole thing easier, after all, who wants to act though and actively keep grudges when sick?
Your initial plan was to drop the soup, ask how he was doing and bolt out, make the experience short to avoid any chances of it getting ugly, but Mark had insisted for you to at the very least take a seat and tell him about the friend date he missed. The way he asked wasn’t forced, it wasn’t just something to be polite, and after all, Mark hadn’t seen anyone in quite a while now. The young man was the extrovert, he fed off social interactions, maybe that’s why he felt a bit happy to see you. Being sleep deprived does things to you, he figured.
The five minutes trip you had planned turned into two hours, Mark was eating his soup on his bed, not wanting you to sit on it because it was “A bed of batteries”, while you sat on his desk chair, making it turn around occasionally as you told him about Johnny’s scream when he thought he lost his camera, Jaehyun’s failed attempt at dinner the other day.
“And then ?”, asked Yerim, her mouth full of the cupcake she was chewing on.
“Then? I got back to my dorm.”, you said like it was obvious and didn’t know why she was asking. On the other end, you could clearly hear her disappointment, yet another sigh leaving her lips.
“Boring.”, she sang, your eyes rolled yet another time before she brushed her words off as a joke. “So, after all these years, are y’all friends ?”, she asked.
Your head tilted to the side, from your spot, you could see his bedroom window, the light suddenly turning on in the small square as the night started settling in.
“I guess we are friends now.”
“Spring is here, read all about your campus’ events to celebrate !”, the headline reads as Mark scrolls down Mingtian’s website, remembering him how weeks had passed since the incident in the lab.
Crazy how your life can change so quickly, so drastically. Mark didn’t really have the time to look back, or maybe he feared doing it. Either way, his life wasn’t the same. A few days after you brought him some soup was all he needed to get back on his feet and get his thoughts together. Long gone was the shadow of himself he’d seen in the black screen of his laptop when another episode loaded on Netflix.
Firstly, it didn’t take long for him to figure out that this never happened to anyone, anything like this, for the matter. Mark had dreams, a lot, and one of them was for him to discover something that would break science, find something no one ever laid eyes on before him, and he had it, it was him.
Sure, he didn’t expect such a thing to actually happen, nor happen so early on, but he could work with it, as terrifying as it was.
Second, he figured that thing wasn’t doing anything too harmful to his body. A battery of tests and his doctor told him he was completely healthy without a doubt.
So, he was here, actually healing faster when he got hurt, bruises and cuts disappearing in a day or two, hours if it was small. He could apparently walk on walls, but he didn’t really try again after that night he was stuck on his celling, and had something with spider webs that he would keep and test whenever he had the time.
And that’s how, on third, he started thinking about helping people with his powers. (Mark actually didn’t want to use this word before a few days ago, but he had to face it, it was the definition of superpowers.) See, the thing is, superheroes weren’t unknown, they just didn’t happen in his city, did Mark Lee really have the pretention to be the first one here?
After years of reading comics, going wide-eyed in front of the news channels, he knew that he’d have a lot on his shoulders.
A lot of back and forth, could he rely on his powers? What was he really capable of? He didn’t know. For weeks, he locked himself in, he feared testing everything on the outside world until one night, he did it.
Winter was still present in the air, but the early spring prevented the wind from biting the young man’s skin. The hoodie he was wearing close to his body, he kept his head low as he walked on campus, hands in his pocket.
In the dead of the night, the streets were empty, only a few people had given up on classes at the time, making them the only people out at this hour, mostly drunk. As lights were going out one by one behind every window, Mark made his way further into the campus, until he reached a place far from only anyone at that time, the vacant stadium.
“The campus’ superhero! All we know for now.”
Mark almost missed it, if the word “superhero wasn’t in bold, red letters.
Without missing a beat, the student’s finger tapped on his screen, turning his brightness to the lowest setting. In the background, your conversation with Jaehyun only became a blur as Mark’s ears seemed to ring, his skin burning a bright red as he found hard to focus on such simple words.
The article was short, blurry and dark pictures didn’t even come close to being dangerous for his privacy, and clearly, they didn’t have a lot of information on him.
The article clearly was written in the heat of the moment, little proof meaning little people would believe it right away, nothing was clear and set. Speculations on his age, his major.
Apparently, someone had seen him on his last night out, the anonymous witness talked about seeing him shot something he couldn’t identify, seeing him climbing a wall before he lost him.
Many comments weren’t taking the whole thing seriously, yet. It made Mark feel a lot, lot better to know that maybe, just maybe, he had a bit more time left to get ready himself before getting forced to show himself to the world. Vine references about how he was on “XGames mode”, and other memes managed to relax him a bit, before he tumbled upon other comments.
Some didn’t believe yet, some made assumptions already, those got to Mark Lee. If it was real, he needed to be tested, some said, they needed to find him. The city’s own hero, what a task, he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay hidden too long. They went on, and on, never getting tired of their theories.
“Oh my god.”, Mark whispers, his finger stuck on the screen, refusing to exit the app.
“What did you say ?”, Jaehyun asked, chewing on his gum, his attention switching from you to Mark. Only Johnny was missing, his pause starting soon, you three were seated at your usual table in the café. The sun would set a bit later than usual, the golden light filtering through the large windows, the café emptying as it usually was busy early in the day.
Mark looked up, eyebrows shot up to hide under his dark locks, his eyes moving back and forth from yours to Jaehyun’s, amusement from his sudden reaction clear on the other men’s eyes. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I- eh…I just blacked out for a moment.”, Mark finally managed to let out, locking his phone before leaving it on the table, people started talking about the new phenomena way too soon, he didn’t expect this big of exposure without even having everything figured out himself.
Oh, the superhero life didn’t suit him that well.
“You’ve been doing it pretty often these days, did you get some rest ?”, you asked, tilting your head to the side. Bringing your cup of tea to your tinted lips, you took a sip, almost chuckling against it as he got lost in his thoughts again, but this time, you were in the centre.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep due to coming finals, mixed with the slight shock he still had lingering around and the colour of lipstick you chose to wear today, but he took a bit too long to detach his eyes from the nude stain of the white object. Maybe it was the guilt from not telling any of his closest friends, the guilt he had because as time when by, he felt himself drifting away.
“Yah, this kid is always dreaming”, Johnny’s loud voice and his hand ruffling his dark lock finished to bring him back to reality, a smile softening his features. The tallest took a seat next to him, making the new superhero look small in comparison. He couldn’t help but notice as he thanked Johnny for the cup of coffee, did he have the shoulders to do it? He wasn’t buff, he wasn’t extremely tall, he wasn’t the one to actively go to the gym, he had a few muscles from dancing and sports but so many guys religiously went to the gym for more, and more.
“What are you dreaming about ?”, teasingly asked Jaehyun, to wish Mark decided to ignore at first. His cup of coffee was brought to his lips, his eyes stuck on the beige table, he vaguely listened to the conversation, trying to keep himself in, the conversation going back and forth until you giggled at something Johnny said.
“I’m sure he is, I’m sure he’s daydreaming about this superboy.”
Mark shocked on his coffee.
Mark smirks, maybe he does, maybe he does have the shoulders to be the superhero they want him to be.
But if he doesn’t ? He doesn’t care.
That’s what he needed to figure out, that’s what has been blocking him for days after the article. Expectations from people he didn’t know, people that didn’t know him. He didn’t have anything to prove, and if he had something, it was something he had to prove to himself.
His head tilts to the side, the skin-tight black hood only showing his eyes keeping his earbuds from falling. In his ears, the music at a low level only accompanies the street’s noise. Cars drive by, never noticing the shadow lurking at the top of a building, their wheels crush the small bits of wet pavement, a few passerby walk with their heads low towards their phone.
Everyone looks small underneath him, he blended with the buildings, invisible but all-seeing. After rain’s fragrance tickle his senses despite the thick fabric covering his face, his upper body hangs off the wall, even like this, he’s so high no one see him.
He doesn’t fear falling, he’s confident in himself. After weeks of practice, he knows what he’s capable of.
After a moment of observing the street’s movement, Mark decides to turn around. His back on the end of the wall, his shoulders, arms and head hanging off. He takes a breath, arms spread, eyes on the sky. It’s getting darker, he notices, the dark blue turning black as minutes go by, stars flickering in and out of his view.
He’s excited more than afraid, the night sky going black his signal to get up and finally give it a try. His shoes kick a few rocks as he gets up, not even taking a second to brush the dust out of his hoodie.
He’s on one of the tallest buildings, people are working underneath him, the lights never going off. Another tall building in front of him, the bank. It doesn’t have as many windows as the one he’s towering on, the pale granite looking almost grey under the artificial lights.
That’s the one he had his eyes on, taller from a few meters, he couldn’t make out the roof of the building, but that’s what he wanted. Mark’s eyes didn’t leave the end of the wall of the building, slowly taking steps further and further away. He needed to gain momentum, the steps at a rhythm, forcing his breathing at the same tempo. When the young man’s back finally touched the wall, he knew he had to do it quickly.
Quickly before he lost all confidence.
And so, he did.
Workers underneath him probably wondered what or who was walking, or rather, running on their rooftop. Running as fast, as hard as possible, he didn’t let his mind register what was happening as his right foot landed on the wall he was resting minutes before, one leg pushed his body off the building, and before his mind could understand that he was in the air without protection, he shots.
In milliseconds, the white string easily attaches itself to the wall of the bank, almost invisible yet so strong. Quickly, both his hands gripped the spider web, if he had enough force, he could do it. His arms pulled, as hard as he could, and for a split second, he swore he touched the sky.
He touched the sky, and before he could realise it, he was on the second building’s rooftop.
His back is the first one to hit the rooftop, hard and small rocks digging into his skin. It might hurt now, but everything will go fairly quickly. Furthermore, that’s not what Mark is focused on.
His body rolls for a few meters before he manages to stop himself with his hand and foot, thinking that he should probably wear gloves next time.
Heart beating against his ribcage, he stays like this for a moment, face inches from the floor, hand firmly on the surface like he fears falling. He did it, he was on the other building. Slowly, the college student gets up, he feels even taller now, the rooftop he was standing on seconds before under him, he really did it.
He could do anything.
Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he looked down at the string he shot waving in the air, deciding he’s let it like this, a trace of where his night started.
After this, Mark was unstoppable, long gone were his fears, the city was his.
Restaurants, cafes, streets he only knew during the day looked so much more interesting from his point of view, high and proud. When his attention isn’t on the streets, mindlessly trying to find something interesting, his attention was on the skyline, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, he was getting comfortable.
The young student stopped fearing the jump, he didn’t hesitate anymore, his reception getting cleaner, his footsteps soundless.
He could do this all Friday night, he felt a new type of freedom, something he couldn’t quite describe as he shot yet another string, the night wind puffing his sweatshirt, licking away the sweat forming on his stomach.
He could’ve stayed there all night long, if he hadn’t been stopped dead in his tracks between two smaller buildings as he was risking his way back to the campus.
The loud sound of a door metal door stopped him at first, his shoes landed on the convenience store’s rooftop.
Although it was indeed Friday night, and most parties were still going on at this hour, he hadn’t come across any fights, at least nothing this loud.
Before he could get a good view on the scene, he had to crouch down, on hand on the triangle-shaped roof as he tried his best to stay invisible despite the large neon sign a few meters behind him.
And that’s when he almost fell down.
In the dark, small street was you. Clearly angry and possibly confused, Mark could see a man that definitely was not Johnny or Jaehyun standing a few meters away from you, keeping you from walking away.
Mark understood right away, but he didn’t expect any action so soon, nonetheless with someone he knew involved.
Slightly frozen at the top, he decided he’d listen to the conversation a bit more. As selfish and pathetic as it may sound, he was scared. He didn’t see himself as a hero, at least, not yet.
“Your phone, your wallet. Quick.”, the men said, Mark couldn’t see his face, he was more focused on you anyways.
“I’m not giving you anything.”, you snapped back, Mark was worried you’d get yourself in trouble even more, his guts screaming at him to jump in and take the man down.
“It wasn’t a question.”, clearly, the tallest wasn’t finding any of this funny, he probably also wasn’t planning on you not giving in so easily.
Menacing, he took a few steps closer, enough that your body automatically took a step back, the back door of the club and the end of the street growing further away.
“Listen up, slut.”, he started, and as soon as you saw his hand raising, you reacted out of impulse. You were scared, yes, but as a broke student, you couldn’t just give him your phone and your wallet, just most of your life in them. The bottle you didn’t even sip on in your hand found the wall, the glass breaking easily.
Mark’s eyebrows shot up, being almost full, the liquid in the bottle splashed all over the wall, wetting the side of your top and your shoes. Probably in survival mode, you didn’t care much, you just knew that the now broken bottle would be as sharp as a knife, enough to threaten and defend yourself if needed.
That’s when Mark almost fell backwards, his back falling straight on the green neon light of the store. If the obvious shadow wasn’t enough, the loud noise that came with the impact finished to give away his hiding spot.
The robber turned around, surprised as he didn’t find anyone standing behind him. You, on the other hand, wished you’ve had the reflex to hit the men as he was distracted, but how could you when a shadowy figure that somewhat looked familiar jumped from god knows where.
You swore you didn’t drink, no one slipped anything in your drink, yet you couldn’t quite believe your eyes when this person, who looked like he materialized in front of you gave a straight punch in the other men’s face, knocking him out for a few seconds.
A gasp left your lips as you backed away completely against the wall, the broken bottle glass falling from your grip and you swear, you swear you almost lost your mind.
The men quickly got up, the difference in sizes was obvious, he towered over your new saver, but the masked one’s next move had the power to freeze you completely.
His hand lifted, with nothing in it, and in a second, something shot from his silhouette. You couldn’t really see it, but a moment, the tall one was ready to knock the both of you out, the moment after, the was firmly held by something on the wall.
The large, white substance was covering his body, he could struggle and move, he was stuck. A groan escaped his lips, kicking his shoes on the floor.
“Who are you, what the fuck is that ?”, anger was clear in his voice, but apparently your new hero didn’t want to deal with this. His hand lifted a second time, the same stringy thing, this time aimed towards the men’s face.
Touching his forehead at full impact, his head harshly crashed against the wall, surely knocking him out for a few hours.
The questions he asked kept running in your head, the adrenaline keeping you from thinking straight, but one thing was sure, he was the one articles were talking about.
The realisation finally hit your brain, your mouth agape as he turned around. You weren’t surprised when you saw he was wearing a black and thick fabric over his face, his face contoured under the material like he was about to say something before he stopped himself.
You couldn’t move, too scared, too shocked, his thumb and index formed an o, silently asking you if you were ok.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”, you finally breathed, “Thank you.”
He stared at you for a second, your eyes locked and you couldn’t help but wonder where you saw those eyes. His dark brown eyes were a window to his emotions, you didn’t need to see his face to understand that he was strangely really concerned, almost scared.
Maybe he understood that he was staring, he slowly nodded, apparently, he didn’t want to talk and didn’t know how to communicate with his hands. Shooting you a thumbs up, he ended up holding his hand a bit up, palms towards you, like he was asking you to slow down, probably telling you to be careful.
You nodded again, every one of your braincells had left your brain at this very moment, you couldn’t believe what you just saw, you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. “Who are you ?”, you finally asked, like he was going to give you his name just like that.
He didn’t answer, he didn’t have the time before your phone started ringing. Both you and Mark recognised the special ringtone for Johnny. Without thinking, you picked up with a trembling hand, you almost forgot where you were but seeing your friend’s name on you phone only made you want to get back to security as soon as possible.
“Yeah Johnny, I’m outside, please com-”, you started, before the masked men retreated. “No ! Wait !”, you screamed out, but he was too quick, climbing the wall of the club like it was some simple stairs he was going up. And just like that, he disappeared.
“Look! Look, look, look, look !”, you jumped on your seat, leaving your phone screen up on the table. Jaehyun quickly looked at it, before resting his back on his chair, torn between getting annoyed and laughing at your attitude. On your phone, was an article about the night you almost got robbed and got saved by “Spiderman”, the name you and a few other people gave him, slowly starting to take off.
You were lightly featured in the article, this wasn’t what you cared about, you cared more about the encounter, you never thought you’d see someone with powers with your own two eyes, you could hardly wrap your head around the fact that they existed.
For days now, you were almost obsessed, you needed to thank him, weirdly, you didn’t remember doing it.
Sadly for your friends, there was hardly a day without you talking about him, hardly a day where you didn’t try to understand who he was, how he became like this.
Sadly for your friends, especially for Mark.
Oh, how he didn’t know where to put himself. He knew you’d talk about it, a little bit, but not that much.
“Do you think he’s a student here ?”, you asked, you eyes going scanning your three friends’ faces. Mark dodged the question, shrugging his shoulders before going back to his book.
“Most likely, yes.”, Johnny though, answered. If Jaehyun was slightly annoyed by the new obsession, Johnny, on the other hand, was getting into the entire conspiracy mood. After all, the mysterious man was the one who saved his friend when he wasn’t around, he almost felt like he owed him something.
“That’s such a weird power, though.”, Jaehyun said, stretching his legs until they were resting on your lap. Dropping you flashcards on him, you continued as he only added oil to the fire.
“Right? I don’t think he chose this power. No one would pick this out of everything, right ?”
“Do you think it was like, an accident ?”, Johnny asked, Mark sunk down on the sofa, bringing his book higher to hide his face. He had been reading the same phrase for the past hour, he couldn’t concentrate with his three closest friends unknowingly speculating about him. He couldn’t either deal with the fact that he didn’t tell you, he couldn’t now. He felt like it was too late.
“What do you think, Mark ?”, you asked. No matters how much you hated admitting it months ago, you knew Mark, and seeing him so out and distant was out of the ordinary.
The young men usually was one of the mood makers, his loud laughs never failed to grab attention and make you follow his attitude, it didn’t take you long to understand that something was off.
When Jaehyun was on your left, Mark was on your right, easy to reach, your fingers snapped in front of his eyes.
“What ?”, he finally asked, making it feel like you didn’t hear his voice for hours. Both Johnny and Jaehyun had caught his odd behaviour and reaction, “His powers, what do you think he can do ?”, you asked a second time.
“I, ugh-…I don’t know.”, he mumbled, avoiding any eye contact, his attention focusing on a random heart drawing he couldn’t memorize. Even in a bad mood, and you never really saw Mark in a bad mood, not this bad, he’d never avoid such a topic.
Mark Lee had always been kind of a nerd, he would bring comics to class, he’d get pretty excited when a new hero would break out.
“Are you ok ?”, you finally asked, the question sounding more like a threat than anything else to the young leo. Silence was forced in the room, three pair of eyes waiting for an answer that should normally be obvious and given without a second thought. Was he ok? He didn’t really himself, to be honest. A few days prior, he was confident in himself and almost flying between buildings, now guilt and stress were the only things clouding his mind.
“Yeah, I’m ok. Just stressed.”, he shrugged, thinking he’d be able to go back to trying to work with such an answer. What he wasn’t ready for, though, was your hand on his shoulder.
In a millisecond, electricity ran down his spine as he finally looked over his book. The small smile and sweet look in your eyes was one you’d usually give to your two other friends, but he definitely wasn’t used to this.
“Don’t stress, you’ll do just fine, I promise.”, you finally tell, to which the two other agree, a series of nods and, “You will, don’t worry.”, follow your sentence.
For the first time in a while, Mark feels small, tiny butterflies in his stomach, a pink hue creeping on his high cheeks.
See, the young men felt accepted in the friend group, something he hadn’t felt since junior high, most likely. None of you knew, but Mark needed the encouragements, more than ever. A small smile crept on his lips as he thanked you, any memories of your old bickerings long gone. Finally, the mood settled down, as everyone seemed to go back to their studies, the leo’s mind somewhat calmer.
“Anyways, I need to find a way to thank Spiderman.”
Great.
"How stubborn are you ?”, your classmate Renjun asks, pushing the cubes of ice in his cup with his bright green staw. The sound gets drowned by the hubbub on the park you two are studying in. Or at least you are, eyes trying to adjust to the bright sun as you read your art book under a tree, few students passing by.
“Very.”, you answer, tapping your pencil on your book, not taking a break from the small annotations you’ve been making. Yes, you were very stubborn, and you’ve been since your childhood. Weeks after the accident outside the club, the “encounter”, as you call it, you’re still determined to see him again, the hooded and mysterious young men almost everyone call spiderman.
“It’s been weeks. You don’t even know who he is, where he is.”, pointed Renjun, like you’ve never heard it before, you’ve heard it from Jaehyun, Johnny, Yerim, everyone.
Sipping on his too cold iced tea, he coughed a moment as you roll your eyes, frowning at your book.
“And ? He’s still on the campus, people saw him yesterday.”, you tell him, pouting. Putting emphasis on the last word, you almost sounded like a really dedicated fan of a still sketchy and unknown hero.
But you weren’t lying, he did appear last night, Friday again. Almost flying between buildings in the chilling night, shooting spiderwebs after spiderwebs.
Actually, he appeared multiple times during the last weeks. Pictures clearer and clearer, it seemed like people were going out, hoping to get a glimpse of him, get the best picture yet. He always seemed to appear at night, during the weekends, but some people still managed to get some good, though grainy shots.
Average height and skinny was what you could see from the series of pictures. “That means I still have a chance to bump into him.”
More and more, people stopped being septics, theories flying left and right on social medias, but no one really knew who was the masked student.
“Just to thank him ?”, your friend asked, raising one of his dark eyebrows. Giving up on your book, you looked up as he spoke.
“Yes, just to thank him.”
Saying it out loud almost made you sound ridiculous…Were you ridiculous? You just really wanted to thank him, in person and without the adrenaline that probably made you lose all of your words last time. Plus, the way he seemed so surprised as well, and how familiar his aura was only pulled you even more in.
“You’re unbelievable.” Renjun sighed, sipping on the last drops of his overpriced tea, making your crunch your nose at the noise. “So, what’s your plan ?”
You chuckled. You don’t have one.
“At least try and have some fun.”, Renjun visibly pouts, at least you think he is. The dim, red light of the club isn’t helping your vision at all, eyes tired from hours upon hours on the computer. Turning your attention to your friend, you sigh against your glass, the taste of the non-alcoholised drink you ordered still lingering on your lips, the loud music isn’t helping either when you try to respond.
“I’m not here to have fun!”, you’re growing more and more annoyed by the minute, you’ve been here for an hour or so but it feels like you’ve been sitting here for far more, shoe unconsciously tapping on the club’s floor as all your friends dance to the beat of the song. Needless to say, your sentence didn’t make much sense in such a setting.
This seems to be the last straw for your friend, who, you have to say, you’ve been putting through a lot, frustration clear on his face as he sits down in the booth, just a table filled with bottles and glasses between the two of you. “You’re way too focused and obsessed with this thing.”
He’s right, you know he is, but it doesn’t stop you from looking down at your half-full drink, swirling the liquid around with a finger, one side of your brain refusing to understand his very rational point of view.
“Come on, let’s dance a bit ? Even if you don’t see him tonight, it’s not a big deal.”
Once again, he’s right. Even if you don’t see him tonight, it shouldn’t be a big deal, it shouldn’t affect your mood nor your night, it really shouldn’t.
But see, aside from thanking him, there’s something else that really is bugging you, the more you think about it, the more it’s suspicious, but the more it feels like you’re being paranoid, delusional.
How familiar he was, you didn’t mention it, it was just a feeling and didn’t think much about it, but now that his identity was a big, red question on everyone’s lips, you truly couldn’t push the thought aside.
Maybe it was someone from your class, someone you came across while going to one of your classes, you didn’t know and Renjun didn’t let you think more about it, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist to force you on the dancefloor.
You can’t spot Johnny, probably dancing somewhere else and out of your vision or, knowing him, taking shots at the crowded bar. Jaehyun wasn’t there, nor was Mark, the first needed to get back home, while the second needed to study for upcoming tests.
Not having half of your group did feel weird, especially on Friday nights and weekends. But, you understood that Jaehyun was pretty homesick and needed to recharge with his family, while Mark seemed to get back to his old self and tried as best as he could to regain his first place, nothing exceptional.
“I need some fresh air, I’ll be back soon, alright ?”, you finally tell Renjun. Fuck it, you needed to get over it, eventually, all of this would get unhealthy way too quickly.
Pushing through bodies, you quickly walked along the painted walls of the club, lights flashing and dancing on the dark colour, easily finding the door to the exit.
One push of the door and the chilly air of this Friday night rushed on your body, licking away the thin layer of sweat that had gathered near your hairline. Outside, the campus’ streets are animated despite the cold weather, groups of friends meeting before a week of midterms.
It’s crazy how a bit of fresh air managed to clear your mind, filling your chest before you let the fog form in front of your tinted lips. You have to correct your own posture, back straight, head high, rolling your shoulders, bones screaming from your bad postures.
Walking away from the building, you take a few steps on the main street, wandering aimlessly until you’d cleared your mind, gradually managing to think about something else that isn’t him.
But it seemed your mind wouldn’t be left peaceful for long, the world wasn’t so good on you.
It takes a few seconds for your ears to peak up the loud screaming from afar. At first, your ears peak up, only registering how loud they’re being before understanding that a fight is taking place some meters away from you. Screams and words you can barely make out, it’s clear both parties are already pretty intoxicated, both it seems nothing physical started, yet.
Humans are curious by nature, and it shows when a few people gathered around the two drunk students, you included, walking a bit closer. Only, when you see exactly who’s arguing do you drop your curiousness to worry and fear, you didn’t recognise Johnny right away, thinking he was still in the club. But without a doubt, there he is, his leather jacket gone as his tall and impressive figure towers and walks towards the unknown second party.
“Come on, touch me!”, the stranger taunted your close friend. If there’s one thing you rapidly figured out about Johnny, it’s that, when he was sober, the brunette wasn’t quite aware of his strength. A lot like a puppy who grew up too fast and wasn’t accommodated to his grown body. Drunk Johnny, on the other side, wasn’t afraid of acting recklessly, and it made you fear for the unknowing partygoer.
A small crowd had formed around them, mostly cheering on, blindly pushing the fight to go on. You couldn’t let it take place, you couldn’t let it happen.
In his drunken state, Johnny gave in, fist clenched in a way you knew he’d throw it at any second, your heartbeat picked up and before you knew it, your body threw itself between the two men, not thinking twice.
In seconds, you couldn’t really process the multiple shouts of your friend’s name tumbling from your lips as you desperately tried to push his body away. Somehow, you find yourself behind him, tugging at the plain white shirt he chose to wear, hands gripping the fabric.
Most likely because of the alcohol and adrenaline running through his veins, Johnny didn’t pay any attention to you, trying to reach the stranger again and again.
“Hit me, hit me!”, obnoxious and way too cocky for his own good, the second party you quickly learned was named “Jinyeon”, was free of his movements and quickly getting railed up.
You couldn’t hold onto Johnny for so long, it seemed no one was really trying to actively break the fight, leaving you alone. Your grip on his shirt was quickly slipping away, your desperate voice calling for your friend again and again, but it seemed you couldn’t get past his drunken mind.
And, just as your fingertips were letting go of your friend, a promise of a fight you couldn’t stop after it’d start, Jiyeon’s screams stopped.
For a few seconds only, before his drunken swears were directed towards someone else, someone you knew too well.
Red hood mask, a collective gasp and whispers followed the appearance of the one and only campus superhero. Visibly, he liked popping out of nowhere, you didn’t even fully register his presence before he was standing between the two dunk fighters.
Despite his smaller figure, he didn’t need to use any strength to stop the fight at once, both with the surprise he caused and by the string of spider web that stuck Jiyeon’s hands together.
“What the fuck is that ?”, he screamed, desperately trying to get the unknown substance away from him, his watered-down senses causing him to tumble backwards. Only then, did his friends walked out of the crowd, finally deciding to put an end to everything as they helped him regain his balance and walk a bit away.
You, on the other hand, was stunned, to say the least. Your hands had flopped down to your side, it seemed the mere apparition of Spiderman had managed to sobber Johnny down enough that he didn’t try to throw a fit and mimicked your moves, arms falling at his sides with an open mouth.
“You need to calm down.”, second, or maybe the third shock of the day, you didn’t really count. The hooded hero spoke, but his voice was audibly altered, making him sound almost like a robot, a layer of autotune on his original voice.
Lips parted, you watched as he hesitantly walked towards Johnny, a clear opposite to how confident he was when he restrained Jiyeon’s hands.
“Are you okay ?”, he spoke again, body language visibly thorn between two extremes, only when Johnny nodded did his shoulders flop down, nodding to himself.
“Are you ?”, you asked yourself, finally processing the entire situation. It felt surreal, you never thought you’d have to stop a fight, nor a fight with one of your closest friend.
“Yeah. I need to walk a bit.”, was the only thing he said, taking a few steps away from you as his heart-beat slowed down.
“And…And you ?”, it almost made you jump back when your attention turned from Johnny to the campus’ hero, he had walked a bit closer, fingers tugging at his gloves.
Finally, you took a long look at his appearance, he was just like in the pictures, still wearing the same hoodie and mask over his face. Only then, did it hit you.
There was your chance to thank him !
You probably had a weird expression on your face, his face lolled to the side, a small gasp left your lips. You almost touched his arm, but had to restrain yourself from getting too much into his private bubble. “Y-Yeah! Do you remember me ?”
You couldn’t believe your own voice, almost shy and quivering, pearly teeth biting down on your lower lip.
He took a few seconds to respond, for you, it seemed like he was searching back in his memories. After all, he saw you once in a dark street, a weeks ago.
What you don’t know, is that Mark, under his thick mask, debates fainting amnesia, he really does. He recalls starting a phrase two times, before vomiting out a string of words like an awkward teenage boy on a first date. “I-Uh, yeah. I remember you.”
Oh, how Mark doesn’t know why his palms get sweaty even when they’re covered with gloves, nor why his heartbeat picks up now, when it didn’t while breaking the fight up, fight that included one of his close friends. Mark doesn’t know why his words get mushed in his brain, or why his mouth goes dry.
He’s too focused on trying to understand why to comprehend what you’re saying, he sees your lips moving, he hears, but his brain doesn’t process.
“What ?”, he asks, almost feeling guilty for not listening to you, but he sees you giggling for a second, maybe because the whole conversation seems funny with his autotuned voice.
“I wanted to thank you for the last time.”, you say again, a giddy smile taking over your features, one Mark decides he likes why more than the worried and scared look you had on your face moments before he arrived. Did he have the power to give you that smile, he only wondered for a quarter second.
“Oh, no worries. You don’t have to thank me twice.”, Mark smiles under his mask, of course, your stubborn mind wouldn’t let go.
“No real-. Twice ?”, the way your face grows red in embarrassment makes him giggle, in autotune again, causing you to laugh at both him and yourself. “I was sure I didn’t the first time.”
“No worries ! Just, keep the gossiping down from now on.”, Mark wanted his phrase lighthearted and was ready to fly away with that, not giving you time to register what he said before he turned his back to you and, within a second or so, managed to shoot a string of web to a building and swing away as quickly as he came.
Leaving you alone, the weird feeling bubbling in your stomach left as rapidly when your mind connected two dots. Gossip ? How did he know about your gossiping about him…? He couldn’t have ears everywhere, of…did he ?
And that’s how, in the middle of a cold street, surrounded by tipsy friday night partygoers, your eyes grew twice their size. That’s how, with one sentence he probably didn’t think through, you unmasked Spiderman, you unmasked Mark Lee.
You don’t know what entity took over you, but it craves closure, and a good shot to drown everything.
When these two dots connected, you never felt so dumb in your entire life. Everything made sense, in a way, yet you needed a clear proof, or else you were going crazy.
The voice, the body language, the corpulence, the unending awkwardness every time the subject was brought up. That’s why he seemed so familiar, because it was Mark, someone you’ve know your entire life. How dumb you must’ve looked when he was hiding under his mask.
Even, why has he hiding this from you, from Johnny and Jaehyun of all people ? Or did they know ? And you were the only one in pure secret and ignorance ? You thought you two made up, but if he told your two friends and not you, it was clear the friendship you felt between the two of you was one sided.
And somehow, this hurts a bit too much. You blamed it on the trust you had finally given him, the multiple efforts you’ve made to go along, and nothing else. Yet, the confusion was a bit too intense, and it drove you to his dorm door.
Lucky for Mark, he didn’t forget to lock his door. Lucky for you, dealing with three chaotic and forgetful guys means you can pick a lock. After all, it’s a simple dorm, your old credit card is enough to dislodge the small piece of metal and let you enter.
It’s dark inside, curtains pulled to the side, streets lights helping you adapt to the lack of light. For some reason, your eyes linger on his bed, it’s neatly made and you don’t have to fear that he’s sleeping under the covers.
Faint smell of his earthy cologne floats in the air as you fully enter the room and close the door behind you, locking itself in a second.
Now what ? Adrenaline brought you there and now what ? Feet dragging on the floor, you didn’t dare turn the light on. One hand softly brushing his blanket, your first thought goes to his desk. Surely, if there’s something to find, it must be here.
Mark’s laptop lays there, closed but from the faint light, still on.
What are you doing ? You ask yourself a few times, you’re either crazy for thinking that your friend’s the neighbourhood superhero, or you’re crazy for snooping in your friend’s room.
Fuck it, now that you’re here, might as well clench your curiosity before Mark comes back from where ever he is.
One finger is enough to lift the screen, light pouring in the room, almost blinding you at how bright it is.
Your eyes take a few moments to adapt to the digital screen, your university’s page on the screen. The headline’s about Spiderman, you bite your lip before leaving your fingers on the touch pad.
It’s not a clear proof, maybe he’s just searching or reading about him. Mark has always been a huge superhero fan anyways.
Exiting the page doesn’t unleash more information either, the laptop’s clean, nothing special. His biology paper is here, multiple pages into it, notes here and there.
After closing every page, guilt washes over you. His laptop wallpaper faces you, forces you into rethinking your actions, a selfie Johnny took a few weeks ago with your whole group in it. You smile brightly between him and Mark, both of them throwing peace signs as they usually do.
Who would’ve thought you’d end up as Mark Lee’s wallpaper, definitely not junior high school you.
You take a few seconds to regain yourself, guilt builds up alongside the stress you didn’t know you had, grabbing at your throat. Only now do you feel like running away, red alarms going off in your head as your head screams that Mark could enter at any moment.
Another side of your brain tells you to search a bit more, your hand goes down his open drawer and you feel around, not thinking that you might come across something weird, being in a boy’s room.
“What are you looking for ?”
The voice seems to come out of nowhere, you jump on your spot, the back of your hand hitting the wood of his desk. Turning back around, your mind goes blank, empty, no thought’s you’d even say. But you can clearly feel your ears getting red as you face none other than Mark Lee.
The young adult’s standing in the middle of his room, the cold breeze of the night coming in by the open window. Fuck, you didn’t even here it opening, how did he get it so quietly ? The light’s still off, but you can clearly see his mask in his fist, gloved fingers clenching it. Spiderman’s mask.
Yet again, your mind has two reactions.
“Mark…”, voice small, you just got caught red headed. He’s probably going to kick you out and tell Johnny and Jaehyun you’re crazy. Your throat goes dry as he doesn’t say anything, lips a straight line, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
He’s speechless, something you never thought he could be. The brunette shakes his head lightly, looking down and preventing you from seeing his face anymore, and there you decide you hate not being able to look into his eyes. As he moves his head from left to right, like he’s trying to shake himself awake, you notice his brown locks, sticking in different directions.
Mark disregards his mask on his bed, like a rag doll, lifeless on the white covers.
“Mark ?!”, you voice calls him again, you dare address him again after being caught in such a sticky situation. He hisses, maybe sighs, you don’t really know. It’s the confirmation you needed, you were right. Your voice’s high pitched, shock clear in your voice. You know he knows, he knows you know. Thoughts, chaotic in both heads, yet no words are spoken.
“Don’t tell anyone.”, is what he says first, voice soft and almost weak, you understand he’s exhausted and almost feel bad for making him deal with you, this, after a night of -what you think is- fighting small crimes and keeping peace on the campus.
You take a step back, you don’t know why. Maybe because realisation just hits you a second time without giving you a proper time out. He didn’t tell anyone, and you foolishly assumed he told Johnny and Jaehyun, you knowingly questioned your friendship with him.
Maybe you stayed silent for a bit too long, the student finally dares looking at you like he’s the one trespassing, calling your name.
“They don’t know ?”, you finally articulate, mouth putty, like you desperately need water. “They” doesn’t need to be defined, both you and Mark know who you’re talking about. All he does is shake his head no again, before letting his body fall on his bed.
Your mouth hangs open for seconds, like a fish. You feel like you just forcefully robbed someone from a huge secret, which, you’ve done. When you thought weight would’ve been lifted up from your shoulders, it just adds on.
“Oh.”, is all your mind can find. It’s all you can say. What do you even do ? Tell him you had suspicions and decided to break into his bedroom ?
“Yeah.”, silence feels the room. Awkward, tense, you’d be able to cut it with a knife, pierce through it with a needle. Strings in your heart pull and inevitably break when you remember last time such a silence took place with Mark was before you two met Johnny and Jaehyun and silently decided to get along.
“I-.”, you try, but before a mix of different phrases and words can escape your mouth like a river, Mark stops you.
“When did you find out ?”, he asks. He’s visibly stressed, fingers playing together before he eventually throws his gloves next to his mask, right leg moving up and down. You hate being the cause of this.
“When we were outside.”, you finally find your words, pearly teeth repeatedly biting down on your -probably- red bottom lip. You had to lean against his desk, knees weak. “When you said to stop with the gossiping.”
In another situation, it would be comical, how his pretty brown eyes widen in realisation, just like yours did. His palms rub his face and he audibly groans, a small “fuck”, tumbling from his lips.
“I don’t even remember saying it.”, he confessed with a speechless laugh. Hearing it helps you relax the slightest bit, he doesn’t sound bitter, just dumbfounded. He says silent after that, though his eyes never leave your figure and you understand he wants to know more.
“Then-…Then it just clicked, you know. The voice, the body language.”, -You’ve known each other for years- you wanted to add, but decided against it for the moment. The young superhero only nods, looking to the side for a moment.
“So you decided to break in.”
It clearly wasn’t a question, more like another dumbfounded, almost hurt observation.
You shift on your feet, balancing your weight from one side to the other, really, you look like a child who just got caught stealing candy before dinner.
“I’m sorry, I just-…I thought-…I thought you told them and not me…”, your voice gets quieter as you speak, if you could, you’d disappear in thin air alongside your embarrassment. Eyes on the floor, you miss how his eyes get bigger, before shifting under his frowning eyebrows.
You’re ready for another row of uncomfortable silence, but Mark has too much to say to let it go so easily.
A gasp leaves his lips when he registers what you just told him, his bed shifting as he stands up. The young men’s sudden move catches you off guard, your eyes taking in his figure as he smoothly lifts his left hand towards the wall on your right.
There, you clearly witness his powers for the first time. From what you assume is his wrist, the brunette shoots a sting of spider web. It’s so fast you almost miss it, but the substance lands on the light switch, turning the light bud on immediately.
You’re almost blinded by the light, taking seconds to adjust to the sudden change. You understand that he’s mad, maybe even disappointed. You, yourself, are disappointed with yourself. you could’ve taken the issue in such a different way, but now was too late.
“You really thought I wouldn’t tell you ?”, the disappointment, clear in his voice, has the power to pull at your heart for some reason.
You don’t even know how to answer. Yes ? You thought he didn’t.
“N-No…It’s just that-”, your throat tightens, oh how you hate this feeling, your heart starts pumping faster, lips going dry.
“Don’t lie to me, you thought I told them and not you. Who do you think I am ?”,
“I’m sorry, I don’t-”, that’s when you finally dare to look up at him, cutting your sentence halfway. With the lack of light, you didn’t notice the cuts on your friend. Blood on the corner of his lips, a small cut on his cheek, it’s your turn to furrow your eyebrows. Your eyes travel down, so does Mark’s. His knuckles are bruised, a deep shade of purple on his milky skin.
You feel gutted, it hits you. He is Spiderman, he puts himself in danger, he could get severely hurt everytime he flies out his window.
“What happened ?”, you’re almost on the verge of tears at this point, bottom lip trembling as Mark looks up at the ceiling, a deep sigh expanding his chest.
“Had to break another fight.”, he simply says, like it’s nothing.
Your heart tightens, you don’t want to cry, not now. Blinking your tears away, you almost manage to escape the discussion, turning around to clumsily fumble with the papers laying on his desk. “Do you have anything to clean yourself up ?”
From the sound his bed makes, he probably sat down again, letting his body fall on his covers with another sigh. “Under the desk, in the white bag.”
You have to clear your throat, nod slightly as you bend down and take the said bag.
“We’re friends.”, he finally tells you as you seat next to him, and oh how guilty you feel. From all the times you, him and your two other friends hung out in his very room, you don’t remember Mark’s bed being this small. You have to move closer anyways, one of your knees against his thigh as you face him.
You look down and get busy with the first aid box, it seems he used it a few times already and you can’t help but picture him, in the dead of the night, having to clean his cuts and bruises when his friends think he’s peacefully asleep.
“Look at me.” His voice’s softer, he probably knows you could cry at any point now. You do as you’re told after letting a few drops of liquid soak a cotton ball, finding yourself looking right into his brown eyes.
“We’re friend, right ?”, this time, he asks, and you almost laugh and sob at the same time, a breathy sound coming from your lips. Mark sounds like a small kid on the first day of school trying to make friends, maybe a bit like when you two first met.
“We’re friends.”, you tell both him and yourself before lightly tapping the cotton on his cheek, he smiles, your heart flutters. The young superhero doesn’t move, he doesn’t even acknowledge what you think would at least be a small sting. “Doesn’t hurt ?”
“Why do you sound disappointed ?”, he asks with a laugh, one sound you like way better. “Small cuts heal quickly. The whole power thing, y’know.”
“Oh.”, is the only thing you’re able to let out, unconsciously leaning closer to rub at the cut, who you discover is just a bloodstain now. A pout on your lips, you have to look at his cheek a little bit closer. “Lucky.”
“Yeah.”, he says softly, but lets you finish your job anyways. Soon enough, his skin is clean, and as he said, there’s no cut underneath. You don’t think anyone knows about this side of his power, after all, the university’s newspaper doesn’t know a lot either, feeding itself from witnesses.
“Thank you.”, you finally tell him, voice hushed as prepare another cotton.
“Hm ?”
“For not getting mad and y’know…Kicking me out.”, you don’t look at him, turning your attention towards another cotton ball you soak in product now that you know it won’t hurt him. He laughs at that, air fanning over your face, you smile.
“You could’ve, I don’t know. Threw me out the window. Covered my body with spider webs. Or- Can you bite ?”
Mark laughs again, genuinely amused by your small monologue, so amused he doesn’t notice your fingers under his chin, nor does he notice how naturally he lets his face rest in the palm of your hand.
“I can, but it won’t do anything special.”
“Hm, interesting. Making a mental note for the school’s newspaper.” you joke, the mood is a lot less tense, Mark has this everlasting tired smile on his rosy lips, dusty cheeks and lazy eyes as he silently watches you.
“Shut up.”, he breathes out, and you don’t answer to that. Finally, the silence that takes place isn’t as awkward or strange as it was, you press the cotton ball at the corner of his lips when he decided to shut up and stop talking, your heartbeat quickens.
“Ouch!”, he whines as soon as the liquid touches his skin, visibly flinching away from your hand. “Oh, fuck, sorr-”, lips parted, eyes wide, you fumble to find a clean cotton ball in hopes of whipping the excess.
“-m joking ! Y/N, I’m okay, I was just joking.”. No matters how many hours you spent with the brunette, or how many years you’ve known him, you won’t ever get his humour sometimes. Shooting him a death stare, hands still deep in his first aid kit, you’re the one who frowns. “Why would you do that, fuck.”
“This one’s because you wanted to tell on the school’s news, you snitch.”
“I was jok-”, you’d rather not finish your sentence, by the way he’s looking at you and smiling a bit too much for a bruised man, you know he just wants to annoy you. Fuck it, you have to grip his cute face in your hand for him to stop moving every minute. Rising on your knees, the lack of light makes you tilt his face upwards to get a better view. “Wait, don’t move.”, high school you would throw up as you move one of your knees, planting it between his legs, your palms get sweaty.
“Let me take care of you, hm ?”, the sentence cames out a lot quieter than you wanted it to be, but after all, you’re close enough that the whisper rings in his ears, you have a lump in your throat. Mark’s lips part, just for him to close his mouth less than a second after, and he visibly swallows.
“O-oh, yeah. Okay.”, and that’s when you understand. That’s when you understand how close the two of you are and yet, you don’t pull back, you don’t really want to. His body heat and perfume strangely seem to calm you down. You’re almost body to body, you feel him breathe, you feel him move his legs the slightest bit under you, you see his pupils grow a bit more.
The honey brown of his eyes seems to disappear, and you can’t decide if it’s because of you, or because of the lack of light in his small dorm.
You don’t dare think it’s because of you, could it be ? You don’t know yours are as blown as his, and it’s definitely not because of his room’s darkness.
Two clueless kids.
You press the cotton a second time on the corner of his lip, gentle as you clean the blood. He still has the habit of biting his lip, you think to yourself. He almost looks like he wore a cheer coat of lipstick, uneven and blood red. Soon enough, you’re cleaning nothing, simply stroking as you stare down.
When did he become so attractive ? It’s when you catch yourself asking yourself this very question that you decide it’s time to back away, his scent and the warmth of his body does nothing but pull you in even more and you don’t think you can deal with that at this very moment.
Mark, on the other hand, thinks something else.
As you’re about to pull away, completely detach your body from his and hopefully shake the haze he pulled you in out of your mind, his own hand gently wraps under your jaw. It’s a firm, yet delicate grip you can’t register right away because milliseconds later, his lips crash against your own.
It starts off hesitant, trembling and unsure lips against your bottom lip. He tastes like the melon lollipops he likes so much, no signs of iron from the blood previously on the corner of his lips. For a moment, Mark doesn’t move, Mark almost pulls away when he realizes what he’s doing.
He’s kissing you, the young hero doesn’t remember the first time he thought about actually doing it, that’s how long the brunette has been wanting it. It’s when his lips detach from your own, scared he crossed the line that you chase after him. You chase after his lips, you’re scared of it being a one time thing, you want more than the small kiss he dared to give you.
Taking advantage of your position, your hand sneaks behind his head, fingers already finding purpose in his hair, tilting his head back as you dive in.
Clumsily, your mouth moves against his own, capturing his bottom lip. Your knees grow weak, body shivering when his hands dare to hold your hips. He’s unsure, hands resting on your hip bones, scared to move without your approval. You give it clearly once you softly bite on his bottom lip. The brunette quietly gasps against your mouth, and you dare to present your tongue, the pink muscle meeting his own in a breathless, wet, kiss.
Out of breath, you both have to pull away. Your reddish lips reflect his own, matching glossy eyes, it’s probably then that Mark loses it and pushes aside his shyness around you. Quickly, his fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans, using his grip on the clothing piece to force your body down.
Your knees don’t need more to let your body fall onto his lap, or rather, his thigh. Strong and firm under your core, it takes all your will not to desperately grind on him, but your body aches to do it already.
“Waited so fucking long to do this.”, he confessed against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips on the side. His words make you blush a bit too hard, blooming flowers in your heart, your fingers tighten their grip on his locks. Such a simple gesture, yet it managed to make your old enemy moan, a stained sound he tried to hide by busying himself on your neck, painting dark petals.
He sucks lightly there, and with this action only, it’s your turn to moan out. It’s a breathy sound, but it gets Mark so worked up his hands slide to the small of your back, resting just above your ass.
“You should’ve done it sooner.”, you tease him a bit, he can’t see the small smile on your face, but he definitely notices when your hips drag themselves against his thigh, losing your self-control. Another simple gesture, driven by pure lust, but it gets Mark’s eyes wide, his jeans a lot less comfortable.
He groans, it comes deep from his chest, fuck it, he thinks.
Suddenly, he’s on top of you. Your mind’s so hyper focused on him that you follow his movement when he leans forward. Your back softly hits his bed, hair spreading on his pillow in a halo, the neighbourhood hero’s eyes linger for a moment on the two purple marks he left on your untouched skin, he decides he wants nothing more than to ruin you while having your body as close as possible to his.
“Pretty.”, it’s a simple murmur, so quiet you almost missed it, his right thumb softly draws circles on the two purple petals he left, like he couldn’t believe he was the creator, his left hand pinned just next to your head to support himself. You smile at yourself at the soft manner, but your smile quickly drops to have your lips parted when his thumb moves across, his hand now fully wrapped around your neck.
It gets your skin burning, legs closing for some relief as you feel yourself getting wetter, and Mark certainly notices your body’s reaction. Mark, or someone else. You don’t really know who’s facing you when his lips tug upwards in a devilish smirk, you’ll understand after that his newly found powers also brought a bag of confidence.
“Fuck”, is all you’re able to mutter when his grip slightly tightens. He doesn’t even restrict your air canal, but it’s enough for you to understand what he’s thinking about.
“Mark.”, you call out, voice so small he just hums with another knowing smile. “Touch me.”, and it’s all he needs.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his lowers his body towards you, making it harder for you to breathe. Resting on his forearm, his eyes never leave your face, he details every feature like he won’t see you ever again after this, he looks at you like he can’t get enough. You, actually do the same. You never noticed how cute his nose looked, small and button-like. However, you noticed how sharp his eyes looked, but never how one of his eyelids was more defined, or how good his new undercut looked.
Arms linked behind his head, you bite down on your bottom lip when Mark uses his knee to part your legs a little more, enough for him to get comfortable between your thighs.
This time, it’s your turn to initiate the kiss, bringing his face towards yours with your arms. He’s more than happy to bend under your needs, smiling softly against you as he kisses you back.
This time it isn’t as hesitant, his lips dance at a rhythm you match perfectly, diving deeper before meeting your tongue again. You could easily get addicted to the taste and feeling, his saliva coats your taste buds when he licks into your mouth. It’s an exchange that gets sloppy, messy. Sighs, moans, and a whimper from you when finally, finally, his fingers toy with the button of your jeans.
“Can I ?”, he asks already knowing the answer, his forehead against your own. Throat dry, you nod quickly, so quickly it’s almost funny. Your hips rise up to help him take the tight fabric off of your body. “Good girl.”, Mark praises as he grips the fabric and easily slides it off your legs.
Strangely, you don’t feel exposed, you don’t try to hide, and even if you did, you both know Mark would’ve used his knee to part your legs again. You appreciate the way his eyes linger on your bare skin, right hand running on your outer thigh.
That’s when you remember the mismatching underwear you chose to wear that day, not thinking you’d end up in such a situation. Mark’s hand finally travels to your inner thigh, thumb stroking just next to your burning core.
“Baby, you’re leaking.”, the nickname rolls out of his tongue so naturally, it rings in your ears, makes your head spin a little more, you never thought you’d hear it. You downfall when his forefinger and middle finger press against your white panties, just so he can punctuate and prove his words. And yes, you’re drenched, the simple touch under the fabric is enough to have you clenching around nothing, silently anticipating his next move.
Thankfully, the college student isn’t planning on teasing you too much for tonight, he’s aching to finally touch you, feel you arch for what he has to give you. His fingers hook under your undies, swiftly taking it off your body to completely expose your core to him. “Off. Take it off.”, you’re babbling, at this point, hands fisting the fabric of his thick top, tugging at it. Mark finds it amusing, how weak you already are, begging just for him to take his top off, but he plays on it anyways. “Ask nicely.”
“Please, Mark. Take your shirt off.”
And he does, hands gripping the fabric from the back to pull it off over his head, and quickly disregards it on the floor of his room. And, fuck.
Fuck, it’s the only word your mind can form, how ethereal can he look.
His pale skin reveals itself under the shy moon, the light makes his jaw and collarbones look sharper, his muscles and faint abs look carved in marble by Rodin himself. You think his nightly workouts on top of buildings really helped his figure, and your hands can only lock behind his back, fingers caressing his curved waist.
Quickly, your soft touches turn into sharp, red lines on his milky skin when he inserts a finger into your core without a warning. A gasp leaves your lips, his digit starts moving quickly, helped by the wetness between your legs and soon enough, another is added. His rhythm turns slow and steady, your walls hugging his fingers as you adjust to them. It manages to steal your breath, leaving you a panting mess under Mark’s body.
His lips find purpose on your neck again, determined to decorate your skin even more. His breathe is ragged, like he’s the one being pleasured, “That’s right, let me hear you.”
You both forgot about Mark’s neighbours and how thin the walls are, soft moans filling his room, the sound of the brunette’s wet kisses for your ears only. And, when he’s satisfied with your sounds, the superhero adds a third finger and picks up the rhythm, one that gets your back arching, eyes fluttering shut, biting your lip at how he stretches your walls. “So fucking tight, you can barely take my fingers.”
The men cooed, you barely register what he says, you never took Mark for the dirty talking type, but you definitely won’t complain. Not when he’s looking at you the way your core and his fingers connect like he’s about to eat you up.
“Fuck, Mark, faster!”, you hands travel from his back to his hair, hips raising in an attempt to feel him a little more. The light strain from the stretch is still there, but it’s a small amount of pain added to the pleasure, a mixture you love too much, a mixture you decided you’re addicted to when your old enemy pressed his thumb to your bud of nerves. The familiar knot in your stomach is threatening to burst at any moment, waiting for Mark to give the last blow.
“’m close.”, you realize, as Mark does. In seconds, his left hand pins your lower half to his bed, his lips find yours again when he understands how loud you could get. The kiss’ messy, teeth clashing, your moans and sighs breaking the exchange every few seconds. Mark decides he might be in love with your moans, a few flicks of the wrist, and his fingers reach deeper, thumb presses harder until you come undone underneath him.
You don’t really remember what you said, a mess of tangle words, swears and Mark’s name, but you do remember the slight taste of blood in your mouth from how hard you bite your lower lip. Mark’s fingers don’t slow down the slightest bit, his mouth leaves yours, wanting to watch your face as you come around his fingers.
“Fuck, look at you.”, he muses when he takes his fingers out, watching in awe as he finds them glittering from your essence under the low light. “Already so fucked out, just from my fingers, hm ?” And you are, slightly breathless, eyes glossy, lips red.
You were about to complain and whine about how empty your felt, until your mouth hangs open as Mark takes his fingers into his mouth, moaning around his digits like a starved moan finally getting a meal.
That’s when you decide, you want him, you need him.
It takes him by surprise, how you rise to your knees and make him sit on his bed. “Are you okay ?”, he asks, like he’s scared he went too far or harmed you by accident. “Wanna suck you off.”, is all you tell him before your knees find to floor of his bed.
“Oh.”, and it’s his turn to lose his words, eyes hooded as he watches you slide down and gently start working on his jeans. Mark might cum right then and there when you take his pants off, the hand palming him through the thin layer of his boxer, humming at how hard he feels under your fingertips.
“Don’t tease.”, he warns, voice a bit deeper, but he isn’t fooling you, the impatience in his eyes is way too obvious. They never leave your figure when you take this very layer off of his body, judging your reaction.
You think you choked on your saliva. The young men’s member might be average in weight, he’s above in length, something you didn’t expect, but again, won’t complain about. Your body also reacts by itself, you remember that you’re not wearing any underwear, and you don’t want to leak on his floor.
“Bab-.”, he calls to catch your attention, his voice getting caught in his throat when you overtake him by wrapping your hand around his dick. “Oh, shit.”, the breathy curse tumbles from his lips as your hand moves up and down, using the pre-cum already leaking from his head.
His head automatically rolls to the side, his tongue poking out before he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, sharp eyes impatient. “Thought you wanted to suck me off ?”, he asks, breathless, challenging.
He wanted to play, push your buttons like he used to in high school, but now, you have the upper hand. “Come on big girl, take i-“, you overtake him a second time, tongue flat running on his shaft, finding how his jaw drops and voice cuts a bit too amusing. “Fucking slut.”, is all he manages to articulate, chuckling at your antics.
You, on the other hand, wasn’t expecting such words, a choked moan leaves your lips before you busy your mouth by taking Mark’s head between your lips, but he doesn’t miss your reaction.
His hand quickly finds your hair, freeing your vision from any locks that could block it, before slowly guiding you down his length. “Oh, you like when I call you a slut ?”, it’s a rhetorical question you’re not able to answer to anyways, you can only moan again against his dick as he eases himself into your mouth. “Dirty girl. Taking me so fucking well, god.”
Jaw relaxed, he feels heavy on your tongue, your eyes might start tearing up.
His praises only make you more determined to pleasure him, you let him control the pace but hallow your cheeks, sucking on his head every time he guides your head up. “That fucking mouth, you were made for this, weren’t you ?”, he groans.
His nails lightly scratch your head before he loses his composure, the steady and average rhythm he set turns rapid, his hips meeting your mouth halfway.
It’s when his squishy head hits the back of your throat that you have to breathe through your nose a bit harder, gagging around him every now and then. And, apparently, it drives Mark crazy. When you finally look up, innocent eyes planting themselves into his, you wished you had a camera to immortalize this very moment. The young superhero’s head thrown back, neck and Adam’s apple exposed, abs clenching as he’s getting closer and closer to his own high, his groans slowly turning into full moans.
It’s melodic, beautiful sounds you don’t think you’ll ever get enough off. But, as your head starts moving faster, disregarding your sore throat and independently from his rhythm, he stops you.
You whine when your mouth’s left empty, robbed from the want to see him come in your mouth.
“Wanna be inside you.”, his finger curl under your chin, helping you get up, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate, his hands are on your hips, before travelling under your shirt.
In a swift motion, he throws your body on his bed once again, before he towers you.
“Y/N, do you want this ?”, he asks, and how careful he is now compared to the way he spoke before makes you genuinely smile. You take things into your own hands, quickly taking your shirt off, leaving your bra on for Mark to take off.
“Mark.”, you call out softly, and your arms like behind his head again. He hums, the college student looks like he’s in a daze, eyes wondering on your covered breasts. His face comes down once again, nose nuzzling against your cheek as he takes a deep breath, and that’s when you realize how fast your heart is beating. Despite that, your lean into his touch, closing your eyes, “Fuck me, wanna feel you.”
It’s all he needs to take things into his own hands, a shaky breath leaves his lips as he nods to himself. He can’t tease himself or tease you further, at this point, he just wants to be inside of you, be one, and take you. So, he does. His right hand aligns himself with your entrance, his eyes leave your figure for a split second before he finds your eyes again.
You have to break the eye contact when he finally enters up, head stretching your walls even though his fingers prepared you moment prior.
Your eyes roll back as he gradually slides in, “There you go, fuck.”, sweet nothings are whispered into your ear, his right arm sneak under your back to keep you close, he wants to mold his body against yours, feel every breathe you take and sense every vibration from every moan, feel the sighs you let out die on his skin.
His left forearm planted next to your hand, he used his leverage and chase after your lips again before moving his hips.
You, feel everything, every vein, especially when he slides out and rams in. You can’t keep up with the kiss, your head is thrown back, your body almost follows the movement and hikes up his bed, but he holds you close.
You understand he’s been waiting to do this for a while, with the way he lets his cock move in and out of you in a slow pace, but still manages to thrust deep, so deep.
“You feel so fucking good. O-h god, Mark, babe.”, you cry out, in pure bliss, as Mark hides his face in the crook of your neck, the way you moan his name gets to his head a bit too quickly, it poison his mind and makes him lose any self-control he had. He who wanted to take things slow at first doesn’t keep up with his internal promise for long, he craves to hear more of your moans, more of his name falling from your lips in lust. The brunette picks up in pace, he gets rough, hips slapping against your own.
You’re surprise his bed isn’t moving more than that, actually, you’re glad. His bedframe would’ve banged against the wall of his room, your mouth agape. Your moans flow freely, maybe a bit too freely for Mark’s neighbour’s and integrity, god knows he would’ve let you be as loud as you wanted if he could.
“Tsk.”, a tired smile stretches his lips, his left hand finds your throat again and you welcome it with appreciation, letting the young man tighten his grip on the side of you neck. “Little slut is so loud.”
You shake your head from left to right, you didn’t want to be, one of your hands leave Mark’s body so you can bite down on it and hopefully muffle your noises. But, the young men doesn’t like this idea so much, his left hand now wraps around your wrist, and before you know it, it’s stuck to his bedframe.
You blink, did he just ? Did he just use his powers on you ?
From the slight smirk he has on his face, on the white, web-like substance around your wrist, he just did.
“I never said I didn’t like it.”, he muses, before his thumb sneaks in your mouth, forcing your mouth open. Then, he gives one particularly hard thrust, one that actually sends your body up his bed, one that has you moaning loud enough that his entire floor probably heard.
“Holy sh-. Do that again.”, you could beg, at this point, eyes watery, and he doesn’t hesitate do to so. Your second orgasm comes so quickly, clenching around him.
“So greedy, you’re gripping me.”, he articulates between clenched teeth, you know he’s as close, but you’re so lost in him that you just nod, you stop trying to free your hand and grip his dark locks, trying to archer yourself to something, anything.
Half opened eyes search for his, you mumble about how close you are as his left hand finds the bed sheet. He doesn’t hide in your neck, Mark lets you hear exactly how good you make him feel, he lets you see him. The thin layer of sweat on his hairline, his locks messy from your hands, the rose hue over his chest, the red lines your created creeping on his sides.
“Make me feel so good, fuck.”, you babble, Mark pulls you closer to his chest, “Come around me, wanna feel you.”, and it’s all you need. Like an order your body registers in this split second, you come a second time, a second orgasm that leaves you breathless. The air is knocked out of your lungs, you’re sure the entire building heard you moan out Mark’s name.
On the other hand, the young men follows quickly behind you, only needed that one last clench for him to let the sinful liquid spill inside of you. He comes in a few long, moaning frantically.
Visibility, it leaves him tired as well. Mark doesn’t even take his shaft out, his body lazily lays on top of you without crushing you, a reassuring weight on top of you own tired body. The both of you just lay there, tired and maybe a bit choked, surprised, in a good way. It’s when Mark chuckles next to you that you dare and look at him.
Your hair’s probably a mess, lips red and wet, makeup ruined, but Mark still runs a hand on your cheek, a sweet gesture you lean into, reassured. “What ?”
It’s almost comical, how his eyes turn from sharp and lust-filled to the sweet and joyful eyes you grew up around, the one that remind you of home. He looks up at your wrist, still firmly stuck to the bed frame, you almost forgot about it.
“What do you call a spider into BDSM ?”
© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.
#spiderverse project#bed of spiderwebs#neovisioned#spiderman!mark#spiderman!nct#mark lee#mark lee smut#nct#neo culture technology#nct smut#nct dream#nct dream smut#nct u#nct u smut#super m#super m smut#mark#college!au#mark smut
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How to become a Demon Ruler 105
Part: 01 I 02 I 03 I 04
GN. Reader insert
taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji
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I feel ready for my dance lessons and to just end this day.
"I'm glad to see that you are still so motivated." Barbatos seems to misjudge the source of my motivation but I take the compliment with a smile regardless.
"I'm trying my best but I have to warn you. I have two left feet." I feel slightly ashamed of that.
"I'm certain that we can fix that with enough practice. Let's move to the practice room." Barbatos seems to have zero doubts. I follow him but I still have concerns.
The ballroom is exactly what I have expected. It's a seemingly endless room, with a lot of glass on one side.
Barbatos turns the music on. It's waltz music.
Barbatos comes back to me, he stands right in front of me. “First, the hold. Place your left hand on my back."
I step closer to him and a bit awkwardly place my hand on his sturdy back.
He seems pleased enough. „Now extend your right arm.”
I extend it and he takes my hand in his. I'm painfully aware of how close our bodies are right now.
I feel him squeeze his arm around my waist.
This is very embarrassing but also somewhat nice.
"Please relax." Barbatos has a very soft tone.
I had not realized how stiff I am. "I'm just a bit worried that I will hurt you." Just the thought of stepping on his foot mortifies me.
Barbatos gives me a soft laugh. "There is no need for you to concern yourself with me."
This makes my heart ache for some reason. "Too bad, since I won't stop being concerned for you." I point a little to underline my sentiment.
"How very kind of you." He shows me a genuine smile.
Once again I find myself blushing. This is getting very troublesome.
"Shall we start then?" Barbatos reminds me why we are here.
I honestly had forgotten for a moment." Y-yeah."
"Very well, take a step back," Barbatos tells me what to do and I follow his lead. He softly pushes me. I take a step back and Barbatos follows me. "Now a step to the side, feel how I lead you." His hand softly pushes me to the side.
"Now a step forward." His hand on my back gently pushes me the right way.
Barbatos nods with approval. "Very good. Now I will count until we are in sync. One…two…three…" We both go through the motions, very slowly. I'm just focusing on the steps. I glance down to see where my feet are.
"Please look at me master." Barbatos notices right away. His words are very effective. "Sorry..." I look right into his eyes. I almost stumble but his hand keeps me sturdy.
After this, our lesson runs pretty smoothly.
I'm pretty exhausted but it wasn't as bad as expected. It must be that Barbatos is an excellent teacher and that he didn't even flinch when I accidentally stepped on his foot.
"You did very well. After all this hard work you have certainly earned your dinner." Barbatos praises me once again.
"It's all thanks to you." I know very well how lost I would be without him. Quite literally.
"You flatter me too much master." Barbatos smiles.
After a break in the library, I decide to go alone to the dining room. I can't forever rely on Barbatos to bring me everywhere.
He looked like a sad puppy. I kept being strong.
So now I have a map of the castle and enough time to find my way in this maze.
With huge relief, I find my way.
Barbatos seems equally relieved to see me.
"Welcome. I heard you decided to come all alone. I'm glad you found your way." Diavolo seems cheerful as usual.
"I'm glad too. It was the right decision to not send a search party just yet." Barbatos remark leaves me unsure whenever this is supposed to be a joke or not.
"I'm an adult and I can handle myself." I'm not quite sure that they know that.
"They grow up so fast." Diavolo seems a bit sad.
"Yes, they certainly do." Barbatos nods with a sad expression.
"I was already all grown up when I came here." I can only shake my head and start to eat. Both men laugh.
Once again Diavolo seems pleased that I eat so healthy. I don't give it much thought, since somehow this is very nice. I might start to like this place after all.
I feel pretty satisfied and plenty filled with my favorite dessert.
"What are you planning to do this evening?" Barbatos knows already that my tasks are all done.
"I will take a bath, relax and sleep." Honestly, I'm too tired to even think of anything to do.
"That sounds great. You deserve the rest after all the training you did today. Barbatos told me about your magic reading. It's marvelous, to say the least." Diavolo approves and then he mentions the earlier incident.
"I'm not sure about that. To me, it looked like it just broke." I feel like the picture of that golden pot smoke will haunt me tonight.
"It was a magical item it's incapable of simply breaking." Barbatos seems sure of it but to me, the item looked utterly unimpressive.
"It's certainly impressive. Nobody ever broke it, not even Lucifer." Diavolo seems to remicense over something.
"Lucifer, like the devil?" I'm very confused.
"The devil? No, he is a fallen angel that is now a very high ranking demon." Diavolo seems confused.
"I guess humans got some stuff wrong." I can only shrug. I have much left to learn.
"We will cover that topic in tomorrow's history lesson. Actually, he will attend the party in six days." Barbatos uses my interest to plug more lessons.
"Wow, that is kinda scary…" I flinch a little.
"Don't worry Lucifer is a great guy. We are great friends. He will love you." Diavolo seems to have nothing but good things to say about Lucifer.
I'm not sure how to feel about this.
"There is no need to trouble yourself with this. I know you will do great at the party." Barbatos gives me some encouragement. It's sweet of him, even when I'm not particularly worried about making a great expression.
"Thank you. I should go to my room now." I feel suddenly very sleepy. This whole day was just a lot honestly.
"Yes, that seems a wise decision. I would be mortified if you would find yourself sick." Barbatos nods and seems sad at the image of me getting sick.
"Don't worry I'm a weed." I laugh.
"Nonsense if you are a weed then I'm a pickle." Diavolo shudders at the thought.
"You don't like pickles?" I find that very surprising.
"It is a huge issue." Barbatos shakes his head."Regardless let me accompany you to your room." Before I can object to that Barbatos` motions with his hand. "I don't accept any objections."
With that, I get silenced.
So once again Barbatos escorts me to my room, but this time I walk beside him.
Somehow this makes this feel much better to me.
"I'm sorry that I went over your head but you are tired and I don't want to strain you by having to walk around for hours before you reach your room." Barbatos has a sad expression. Almost like that happened.
"I understand, you are just worried for your master. I'm very grateful for that." I smile at him to assure him.
"I'm glad that you see it that way. I know that I must seem harsh to you, but let me assure you that I care greatly about you." Barbatos offers me the softest of smiles.
I can't help but smile at this. "I know thank you for your support Barbatos."
"I will continue to support you, even if it should take my life," Barbatos states this so casually and yet full of sincerity.
"I don't want you to die for me." I'm confused and this is all I can muster to say.
"I'm just saying that if you would require my life then I would gladly offer it to you." Barbatos doesn't miss a beat.
I can only hope that such a day will never come. It would break my heart.
"There is no need to be sad, master," Barbatos speaks softly, he must see my distress.
I can't add anything to his words. "I should go and take my bath now. Sleep tight Barbatos."
"Rest well, master." Barbatos waits again until I close my door.
When I'm in the bathtub I decide to order Barbatos to never die for me. I'm sure he will do it if it's an order.
With that thought, I go to bed. More or less ready for whatever the next day will toss at me.
#how to become a demon ruler#demon ruler 101#obey me fanfic#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me reader insert
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cover me with stuff
happy happy birthday to @petrodobreva!!! also available on ao3.
“What just happened?”
Patrick’s breath is coming fast, eyes darting between the back door and where David’s standing in the kitchen. “Um,” he clears his throat. “Nothing. Not a thing. No things.”
“Ah,” David nods. “No things. Would you like to try for something more believable?” After an afternoon of organizing folding chairs in the yard behind the store for a watercolor class the next day, he doesn’t really have the patience for their usual thing, where Patrick talks around his problem until David can suss it out for himself. He might have saved the patience if Roland hadn’t insisted on helping him. David knows that Jocelyn didn’t have to loan him the chairs, but the presence of her husband still felt like too high a price.
Patrick goes to lean against the back door but overshoots and has to use his arm to brace himself. “There’s a snake in the hydrangeas.”
David wrinkles his nose. “This is one of your worst euphemisms.”
“Ew,” Patrick says with feeling. “That’s—I hate snakes.”
“Was it a big snake?” David turns to peek out the kitchen window; he can see a bucket half-filled with weeds and soil spread out where Patrick had abandoned the gardening to find cover. “Should we call someone? Ray was talking about animal control at Twyla’s last party, but I can honestly say that I lost the thread and don’t know if it’s a new business of his or not.”
Patrick shakes his head, cheeks still flushed from his run. David narrows his eyes and looks a little closer. “Garter snake.”
“And you are...allergic to garter snakes?”
“I hate snakes.” Patrick looks at David then, and the look in his eyes makes clear that it’s not exertion but embarrassment turning his cheeks red.
“Aw.” David frowns exaggeratedly. He can sympathize; there was a millipede in the store last week. “Gross. Well, hopefully the snake goes away soon.”
“You don’t have to—” Patrick’s voice goes sharp like it does when they fight. David’s pretty sure this shouldn’t be a fight, so it’s...off. Something’s off. But Patrick inhales and lets it out slowly. “I hate that I’m scared of those stupid things.”
“Um, have we met?” David turns toward the cabinets but keeps Patrick in his sight. “I’m scared of many things.”
“But yours make sense.” Patrick runs a hand over his eyes. “Like the parasailing thing. Who wouldn’t hate heights after that?”
David takes Patrick in without being too obvious. He’s doing that thing with his lower lip that’s adorable and infuriating in equal measure. It’s probably technically a pout, but neither of them want to admit that. David can only make fun of it when he’s being condescending, but Patrick normally doesn’t bring this particular expression out unless it’s something serious that David can’t be petty about. Infuriating, really, because he has so few things he can poke at Patrick about. “You know that a fear doesn’t have to be logical, right? Like, sometimes it is. But I was terrified of my mom’s eyelet lace clutch for a year after she told me it was poisonous. That’s not logical.”
Patrick’s lip stops doing the horrifying thing, which is progress. And the light of teasing is back in his eyes, so David counts it as a win. “Why did she say it was poisonous?”
“She knew I was plotting to steal it.” David waves a hand. “Not important. As long as you can still take care of any and all moths, we don’t have a problem here.”
“Where did the moth thing come from?”
David can play this game. “Where did the snake thing come from?”
Patrick makes a face that’s less horrifying and more funny. David loves his husband and always wants to see him happy, of course, but. It’s fun to see him squirm. “I give.”
But something still isn't quite right. About Patrick’s face. David shakes his head. No, he loves Patrick’s face and all the things it does. Especially—ahem. He’s getting off track. “What else is going on?” He reaches behind Patrick into the wine fridge and grabs a bottle Patrick likes. Or at least David’s pretty sure he likes it—he grabbed three bottles last time they went to the first vineyard that didn't sell banana wine within five hours. It’s not a huge leap he’s making.
“Nothing else is going on.” Patrick looks up at the ceiling, which is one of his more obvious tells.
A memory from their belated honeymoon to Toronto wakes up and kicks around David’s head. Patrick had gotten all worked up about getting a migraine, moaning into the dark hotel room that this wasn’t what David had signed up for, as though he wouldn’t want to be there for any part of Patrick. “Hey,” he says lightly as he reaches for the corkscrew in the drawer. He keeps Patrick trapped between the counter and his arms—he doesn’t want Patrick to slip away from this conversation, slithering away like—ew. Screw this day for making him think so much about snakes. “What else?”
“It’s—I just don’t want you to have to. To be with me when I’m—this isn’t—”
“My kingdom for a conclusion,” David says mostly to himself. But they’re pressed in close, so Patrick fixes him with a look. He winces and sets about being soothing. “You’re not making me do anything.”
Patrick rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. David thinks he can probably make fun of this move, but. He’ll wait to test the theory. “You didn’t sign up for—”
“I signed up for you,” David says. He tucks the you idiot back behind his teeth. He senses it will not aid his mission. “Warts and all. Or, um, some other non-amphibious reference.”
“Snakes and frogs are totally different.”
“And we’ll get right back to that deflection after we finish this,” David says sternly. “You didn’t know that I would break my arm in two places the week before our first anniversary, but you still saved me from Stevie’s attempts to deface my cast with doodles. And you didn’t know that my parents would basically move in with us for nearly a month after Sunrise Bay wrapped again.”
“That’s different.” Patrick’s being stubborn, which, water is wet, so it’s not exactly news.
“Because it’s me?” Patrick never minds soothing David’s worries, or talking him down from spirals, or letting him pluck at his shoulders while he works through distressing thoughts.
“No, David.” Patrick uncrosses his arms and pulls at David’s hips until David sways forward. “Because it’s—hard. It’s hard for me.”
“It’s hard for me too, you know.” David shakes his head. That’s not exactly right. “It is in the beginning. To trust that you’ve—got it. That you can handle the hard stuff, or the embarrassing stuff.” He resolutely does not think about wet sheets and aborted livestreams.
“But I can,” Patrick reminds him. Then he breathes out into the space that he’s made for himself against David’s neck. “And you can.”
David wiggles, but gently. He doesn’t want to dislodge Patrick. “I can.”
Patrick’s arms tighten around him, then loosen just enough for David to grab both bottle and corkscrew again. They’ve both earned a drink.
“You’re really good at this,” Patrick says, looking far too impressed. David’s done the corkscrew before. “I feel very supported.”
“I wish I could say I got that all the time.” David plays it up because he knows it will make Patrick smile. He straightens his back and pulls away from the cage of Patrick’s arms so he can watch the way his husband’s mouth turns down in fondness before the happiness takes hold.
Patrick clears his throat, then turns and reaches for the glasses. “A shame,” he agrees. “Especially since you’re so supportive that you won’t make me go back out there. Really kind that you’re going to weed the flower beds for me.”
“I support you,” David says. He thinks fast; doing one outdoor chore might open a door that he can’t close. And he’d rather die than mow a lawn, even if it’s his own. “And because I support you, I also support you facing your fears.”
“I’ll remember that when the next moth needs rehoming.”
“Fine.” David sets his wine glass down and crosses into the kitchen; he’ll get the weeds in the morning. Stevie’s coming over to crash between trips, so if he plays his cards right he’ll make it through the chore without getting any dirt on the knees of his jeans. “But we’re having spaghetti for dinner because now I’m thinking about noodles.”
Patrick chokes on his wine. “Why would you ruin pasta for me while I’m in this fragile state?”
#schitt's creek fanfiction#schitt's creek fanfic#schitt's creek fic#schitts creek fanfiction#schitts creek fanfic#schitts creek fic#david x patrick#also HUGE thanks to#rockinhamburger#for basically all of this#my fic
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series masterlist
part 29 - you really turned me on
word count: 2904 words
warning: HEAVILY implied sex, brief mentions of drugs & alcohol
————-
It was Saturday morning. Hyewon wakes up around 11am, stretching slowly and rubbing her tired eyes. She makes grabby hands at her phone, which lay under her pillow. She pulls it out, groaning as she reads the time.
Hyewon has a light headache, born from the wine she had drunk with her roommate Sakura the previous night.
She had needed it, the anxiety of tonight’s meeting with Jaemin eating at her.
She had been surprised, to say the least, when she first received a message from Jaemin asking to talk. They had not ended on good terms at all, considering he found out she had cheated on him at a party. She hadn’t lied to him when she told him she didn’t feel all that guilty. He hadn’t spoken to her since then, only brief awkward conversations when he had came to do mundane break up rituals like pick up some his stuff.
Hyewon didn’t fully understand why he wanted to see her that bad.
She first realised she wanted him back when one; the guy she had cheated on him with (his name was Daehwi) ended up walking out on her three months into their ‘relationship,’ and two; she saw him with you.
It was a warm summer night, humid and golden, when she first saw the two of you walk into the coffee shop hand in hand, huge goofy smiles on your faces.
She usually went there to study, the lighting was nice, drinks were good and the baristas were kind and friendly.
Jaemin didn’t notice her, probably because he was far too enamoured with your presence. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the two of you, watching you try desperately to wiggle out of Jaemin’s arms and trying to duck away from his kisses, exclaiming ‘we’re in public Jaem,’ while giggling hard.
She watched you protest as he paid for both of your drinks, and listened to the barista comment on how lovely a couple you were.
Her heart wrenched when she saw him hold the door open for you and move to the side to let you out first.
He looked happy, and that made her sick. She should be you.
She had felt the guilt hit her all at once, making her feel as though she’d been hit by a truck. Hyewon felt hot, and felt pain and self-hatred burn through her veins and brain, making her feel like she could pass out. She stared hard at the door for what felt like hours.
The nice barista Nako eventually came over to ask her if she was ok, to which she just smiled hard and murmured a ‘yes. I’m fine.’
He felt unattainable, because he was. There was no way to get him back, he was with you, and even if he wasn’t, he would never even think of looking in her direction again.
She had nothing she could use against you, she had scoured your Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and any social media accounts she could find. She felt like a stalker. She knew your friends, what you were studying, what parties you and your boyfriend would show up to on the weekends.
Two years later, she found herself at the exact same college as the two of you. She had begun to forget and swallow the guilt and pain that had previously caused lumps in her throat and her heart to become heavy.
Hyewon hoped she could’ve moved on during these transformative years.
But then she saw you. She saw you for the first time on campus, sitting under a huge oak tree on top of a small hill, surrounded by your three best friends.
It was September, it was still somewhat warm, so you were dressed in a mid-thigh gingham dress, your hair flowing in the wind. You had a large notepad resting on your thighs and were laughing hysterically at something one of your friends had said.
She first recognised Chaeryeong, then noticed Mina when she moved her stray hair away from her face, and then assumed the girl with her back to her was Doyeon.
What the four girls didn’t notice was the two boys heading up the small incline towards them.
She heard you shriek as Jaemin grabbed your sides and squeezed hard, surprising you and making you fall into your sides. She could’ve heard your loud giggles from miles away.
Hyewon tried so hard not to watch, but couldn’t help see Jaemin drape his jacket around you while you stubbornly protested.
The first time that either of you had ever noticed her was at an NCT frat party. She’d been hanging out with her friends, when they’d thrust their solo cups at her, requesting refills of their drinks. She had playfully rolled her eyes and laughed, giving them a ‘fine then,’ and making her way towards the kitchen.
There she saw you, Jaemin, Jeno, an older guy she believed to be Doyoung, and a few of the other older guys talking animatedly about something.
You and Jaemin were leaning against one of the counters, Jaemin in one of his light blue denim jackets she always used to love him in, his arm lazily wrapped around your shoulder, forearm hanging over your front. One of your hands was absentmindedly playing with his fingers, the other holding your cup.
You were smiling, hard, laughing at something that was being said.
Hyewon tried hard to skirt around the kitchen without making eye contact. It wouldn’t be too hard considering the sheer size of the room - the NCT house was huge.
It was the clunk of the vodka bottle hitting the surface of the counter that prompted Jaemin to glance over, wondering what caused the sound.
The two of them locked eyes, and his gaze immediately hardened. You hadn’t noticed, and Hyewon tried hard to avert her gaze, but she could still feel Jaemin’s eyes burning holes into her skin.
‘Are you ok love?’ She heard you say.
Jaemin turned back to you, and said ‘everything’s perfect,’ before quickly pecking you on the lips and turning back to the conversation.
The day Hyewon found out that you were pregnant were probably among the worst of her life. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from your Instagram posts, the image of your ultrasound photo burning hard into her retinas. All she could feel was intense jealousy, pain and grief. She felt as though she’d lost something that wasn’t even hers, she wished she was you.
She tried hard, so hard to pretend it wasn’t happening. For several days she tried to block it from her mind.
Until she saw you and Jeno at the cafe. Jeno seemed distressed, and you occasionally leaned over and touched his shoulder. And that’s when, the plan, the scheme formed in her mind. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, quickly snapping a photo. She opens twitter, making a burner account-
‘Oi!’ Hyewon was interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of her roommate yelling.
Her door brutally swings open, Sakura flying into the room, jumping onto Hyewon.
‘Fucking stop it,’ Hyewon laughed.
Sakura rolls off of her, flopping down onto the space next to her.
‘You have your date tonight,’ she singsonged, laughing.
‘I do,’ Hyewon nodded, suddenly feeling very nervous.
‘Hey, you’ve got nothing to worry about,’ Sakura says, ‘I don’t know who your mystery boy is, but I’m sure he’ll love you. He’d be so stupid not to.’
‘I hope so,’ Hyewon whispers.
Sakura leaves the room, giving Hyewon an ‘I’ve got to go to work now, good luck!!’
It’s six hours later when Hyewon rounds the corner of Jaemin’s apartment complex, the gold foil wrapped around the neck of the champagne bottle digging into the skin of her fingers. She grips it tightly, trying to dispel the anxiety.
When reaching Jaemin’s door, she holds up her closed fist and knocked softly. She hears shifting from inside, then the sound of a key slotting into the keyhole and turning.
The front door to the apartment swings open revealing Jaemin.
She smiles at him, and he smiles at her back.
‘Feels like our first date again,’ she says without thinking.
‘You know what? Yeah, it does,’ he says, before stepping aside, ‘come in.’
Hyewon walks into the apartment, which is lit up with soft golden lights.
‘Pretty,’ she mumbles.
‘C’mon,’ he says, softly grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards the kitchen.
Hyewon realises that she’s never actually seen his apartment. He still lived with his parents when they were together, so the environment she was currently in felt foreign.
There was a small table and two chairs under the window in the kitchen, which had nothing on it. He noticed her staring.
‘Y/N used to sit there,’ he mumbles, ‘not anymore,’ he bows his head.
‘Don’t think about her,’ Hyewon says, moving towards him, trying to grab ahold of his hands.
‘I’m not, I’m not,’ he reassures her.
‘You know what, let’s sit for a bit,’ Jaemin suggests.
‘Sure,’ she says, turning around and following Jaemin into his living room.
He sits down on the couch, his arm naturally moving to cover the expanse of the frame. For a second Hyewon doesn’t know where to sit, not wanting to overstep boundaries too quickly.
She sits beside him, maybe a quarter foot away from him, leaning back against his arm.
Jaemin looks at Hyewon for a second before encouraging her to move closer him, so that her head was almost touching his shoulder.
‘This reminds me of high school,’ he murmurs.
‘I thought you wanted that,’ she smiles.
‘I do,’ he speaks softly, ‘and like I said, you make it so easy.’
‘That makes me so happy.’
‘And that makes me happy.’
She giggles and finally feels comfortable enough to lean into him. For a moment she believes that he tenses, as though he’s uncomfortable, but she writes it off as maybe him flexing.
She sighs, feeling so glad she’s finally gotten what she wanted.
‘We had some good times in high school, huh?’ Jaemin laughs.
‘Oh god,’ Hyewon begins to laugh, ‘like our experiments with alcohol.’
‘And the occasional weed.’
She laughs harder than she has in a long time, reminiscing on the times when she had him. She doesn’t want to lose him again.
‘Jaem,’ she feels him tense again, ‘I’ve missed you so fucking much. I’m so sorry for fucking it all up, I truly did love you so much.’
He looks at her blankly for a few seconds, before smiling, ‘I know, at least you’re here now.’
‘For as long as you want me to be.’
She sits up, turning her hips around and placing her hands on her shoulders.
‘I’m not gonna leave now.’
He doesn’t protest, so she takes that as the go-ahead to move closer to him.
He doesn’t move, and she moves her hands up from his shoulders to the sides of his neck, touching his jawline with her thumbs. She leaned forward, inching closer and closer until their lips were nearly touching-
‘I can’t believe you,’ Jaemin suddenly murmured.
She pulled back slightly.
‘What?’
‘Did..’ he paused, ‘you really think I’d just..’
‘What...’
He stands up, almost aggressively.
‘Did you really fucking think that once you sent me those photos I’d just ditch everything to come running back to you?’
Hyewon was shellshocked. She felt cold, like someone had just put her in ice.
‘You thought I would just leave the woman who’s carrying my fucking child, for someone else?’
‘I didn’t send you any photos,’ she lied.
‘Bullshit!’ He seethes.
There’s a long silence as they stare at each other.
‘Don’t you fucking dare trying to come in here and wreck my life again! For once, for fucking once I’m in a happy, loving and trusting relationship and you have to try and fuck that up for me!’
She presses her lips together, tears filling her eyes as she tries to blink them away.
‘H-how would you know if I tried to ruin your relationship! Stop fucking assuming that I jump at the chance to ruin your life!’
‘But you do! You do jump at the fucking chance to ruin everything! And how I know?’ His voice suddenly becomes a lot calmer, ‘your sister is a lovely girl.’
Her eyes widen as she scoffs, looking at him in disbelief.
‘She couldn’t sit and watch as you tried to destroy a family. At least she’s got some fucking morals unlike you.’
He suddenly looks towards the doorway.
‘Oh shit, sorry gorgeous, did I wake you?’
He rushes towards you, where you’re standing, with a hand on your stomach.
‘I’m ok- I’m fine Jaem!’ you exclaim, putting your hand on his shoulder.
You suddenly avert your gaze to Hyewon, who’s still standing, seething and rolling her fists into balls, glaring daggers at you.
‘Your sister,’ you smiled, ‘she’s lovely.’
You turned around and walked back towards your bedroom.
‘You better be fucking kidding,’ Hyewon raged, ‘What was the fucking point of this? To humiliate me.’
‘If I told you to back off, you’d just come straight back. I fucking know you, you don’t know when to stop.’
Hyewon knows he’s right. She wouldn’t have stopped.
‘So what? It was all fake? The public argument? All of the shit you told me?’
‘Pretty much. Everything right down to the conversation Y/N and Chaeryeong had on the field, just loud enough for you to hear.’
‘So all that shit you said to me over text-‘
‘No, that was all true. You do make me feel young. But I lied when I said I wanted to feel young again. I’m quite happy with being an adult.’
‘After I pour my fucking heart out to you-‘
‘I don’t think you meant any of it Hyewon. You don’t want me. You want teenage Jaemin. You want the younger me. and doesn’t really exist anymore so,’ he walks toward her, trying to encourage her to move towards the door. She complies.
‘To make this crystal fucking clear, I don’t ever want to see you ever again,’ he opens the door, ‘stay the fuck away from me, stay the fuck away from Y/N, and most importantly, stay the fuck away from my family.’
He shuts the door.
‘Is it bad you just really turned me on,’ Jaemin heard your voice from behind him.
He turned around, to see you standing in your bedroom doorway.
‘Is that so,’ he makes his way over to you, putting his hands on either side of your waist, caressing your bump with his thumbs. Your hands join together at the back of his neck.
‘I’m gonna have to do something about that,’ he mumbles.
You squeal as he gently pushes you into the room.
After your— antics, he collapses on his front next to you, breathing heavily.
‘I missed you so much,’ he says.
‘I missed you too.’
Jaemin begins to move towards you, but you interrupt him, ‘I should go pee first.’
You do your business in the bathroom, before coming back out.
You assumed he’d be on his phone, holding it up in front of his face with both hands, but instead he’s looking at you, with eyes full of love.
You cover your face, embarrassed, before climbing back into bed, suddenly feeling cold.
He immediately pulls you towards him, his head resting in your neck, and his arm snaking around your middle, just above your bump and under your chest.
‘I would’ve thought you’d be all over bump by now,’ you mumble, fighting to keep awake as you ran your fingers through his hair.
He hums, inhaling before murmuring, ‘just want you now.’
‘Not even our baby,’ you shake your head in mock disappointment.
He laughs quietly, before shuffling down to face your stomach. He’s silent for a few seconds, setting both hands on either side. Your hands are still in his hair.
‘I love you.’
You don’t respond because you know he’s not talking to you.
‘I’m scared shitless-‘
‘No swearing Jaem-‘
‘Sorry. Your mum/mom is so protective of you. I suppose I am too...’
You’re not paying complete attention, treating the conversation as though it’s just between Jaemin and the baby.
‘You terrify me. You really do. I don’t know if I’m gonna be a good dad. I could do a fucking awful job, and I’m sorry in advance I guess. But I promise I’ll never ever let anyone come between us ever again.’
At this point you’re falling into unconsciousness, your brain tuning out whatever he’s saying.
You feel him shifting, moving back up the bed towards you. You’re in the same position as earlier, except your head is in his neck now.
‘How was your week with the girls?’ Jaemin asks.
‘It was fun,’ you whispered, ‘but I missed you so much.’
‘I missed you so much too. But now I have you all to myself.’
You smile, burrowing into him a bit further.
‘We have two weeks until we find out what this baby is,’ you say.
‘It’s a baby.’
‘Shut the fuck up, you know what I mean!’
‘I’m not sure what I think it is,’ Jaemin says.
‘I’m not sure either.’
‘I’ll be really happy either way,’ he says.
‘Me too. I don’t really mind.’
‘I’m so happy.’
It’s the last thing you hear him say before you fall asleep.
uh so I hope this wasn’t awful😭 imma proofread this in the morning so if there are any mistakes I’m sorry😭 I saw that a lot of y’all wanted a nomin moment so had to include that lil bit at the end🤪
taglist (send me an ask if you’d like to be added!!);
@wendyaftrnn @kayleegglass @jaeminparadise @ncityy04 @mark-zone @soleilchannie @k-n-e-o @kiyeowooncity @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @peachykrystal @jesusagrees @moloprint
couldn’t tag;
@freshwitchpost @r2njun @greentea-beach
#na jaemin x reader#jaemin x reader#jaemin social media au#jaemin scenarios#jaemin imagines#jaemin reader insert#jaemin au#jaemin college au#jaemin sm au#jaemin#renjun#chenle#mark lee#jeno#jisung#haechan#kim doyeon#lee chaeryeong#kang mina#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#dad!jaemin#jaemin pregnancy#nct dream fluff#jaemin fluff#jaemin x you#jaemin x y/n#jaemin dad au#nct college au#nct dream college au
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Part Two of the lifeguard/ blood moon thing? I like that universe
Read on Ao3 | Send me more Legacies Prompts!
Title: Uncharted Waters [P2]
Ship: Hope Mikaelson/ Lizzie Saltzman
(Read Part one here)
Electronic music hissed and pounded, the windows of the small house shaking with the tempo. Lizzie couldn’t bring herself to exit the car. Not with the group of people crowded on the front step, taking easy gulps of whatever cheap alcohol filled red plastic cups. With each wary glance towards the Chevy, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
Josie reached across her in a fluid motion, turning the key until the engine didn’t purr anymore. “People wouldn’t be staring if you turned off your headlights.”
“They’re staring because I almost let a kid drown.”
Lizzie kept her eyes forward. She was sure that she had the license plate of the car parked in front of them memorized. WTV-2869. It was an obnoxious shade of yellow that had once been white- Virginia is for Lovers, it read, but she wasn’t feeling any of it.
Kaleb was accustomed to throwing the end of the summer parties filled with alcohol and at least three bad decisions. It was a celebration of a good season and a flaunt of money that each of them had struggled to save up over the past three and a half months of being crammed in hot plastic chairs and mopping up fluids no one wanted to identify, not fully.
“That was almost a week ago, Lizzie.” Josie’s voice was tender and her fingers traced the seatbelt across her chest. She wanted to unclip it and pad up the front steps until she ran into the other girls that worked at the snack shack. All of them smelled like fried dough and artificial cheese but Lizzie never mentioned it. “I’m not saying you should get over it, it’s scary, I know. But no one else is holding it against you.”
Lizzie scrunched up her nose “Hope Mikaelson is, even though I apologized and thanked her for saving my ass.”
She finally conceded after a pointed glare from her twin, because yes, she had been talking about it non-stop for the past couple of days. Lizzie couldn’t shake the odd feeling she got when they walked past each other at the park or ended up being the last two in the locker room again.
The auburn-haired girl had switched all of her shifts to early mornings and refused to make eye contact. Lizzie had the deep and running feeling that Hope Mikaelson was avoiding her like the black death- and the only explanation she could conjure up was a fit of running anger from her own lack of awareness when manning the wave pool.
Both girls exited the powder blue car and breathed in the last summer breeze the season had to offer. There was a hint of autumn in the air that made her want to fold into herself with a good book. The grass vibrated with the sound of the latest pop song, neon lights flashing against the dirty windows. Kaleb knew how to throw a party, and a small part of her admitted that.
Lizzie stopped short of the drive and blinked up at the blanket of stars. The moon, she had noticed, was finally at its full peak. It shone bright like a crimson ornament in the sky, hung expertly on the best branch.
“It’s kind of cool isn’t it?” Josie smiled softly, craning her neck “And spooky.”
Lizzie tore her gaze away and growled “I wish people would stop saying that. Come on, if I absolutely have to be here, I can’t do it sober.”
And maybe Josie was right; she didn’t’ feel the looming eyes of her coworkers prosecuting her for her mistakes. No one even dared a glance at the two of them, not right away. MG stood against the mantel with his own cup of mystery liquor, and he gave a slight dazzling wave.
The pungent scent of weed leaked from the upstairs floor and greasy pizza littered the granite countertops in the kitchen. A few lifeguards loitered by the fridge, laughing quietly about the Polaroid’s tacked up with alphabet magnets.
Lizzie wandered over to one of the counters and fished through the ice bucket filled with alcoholic lemonade and bud light. She opted for the off-silver can, pushing off the extra ice and water. She was content with a slight buzz and staying to herself in the corner, Josie rushed off once she found her usual shift leaders crowded around a table converted for beer pong.
Jed was lingering at the edge of his pack of friends, hand wrapped around a glass bottle and eyes flashing towards her every once and a while. Lizzie pretended not to notice and instead started to scroll through her camera roll like it was something more engaging, setting the nearly empty can on the counter.
“Hi Liz,” He had moved closer, smelling of aftershave and sweat and whatever masculine scent his car had adopted. “I didn’t think you would show.”
Lizzie snapped her gaze up and shoved her phone in her pocket. “And why wouldn’t I?”
“You nearly let a kid die?” Kelsey had pushed herself close to the island in the middle of the kitchen, running a hand through dirty blonde hair that threatened to be greasy. She lifted the oil-stained lid of a pizza box before frowning and letting it fall back down. “I’m sure a party beats a jail cell.”
“Oh well, it’s never too late.”
She shoved herself from the counter, fully intent on joining MG next to the fireplace. Even if she did just stand there and listen to his off-handed conversation about who would best win in a fight between Superman and the Green Lantern. Jed took a step to block her path, giving a wolfish grin.
“Okay, Jockstrap, maybe you should get out of my way.” She knew her voice had gotten darker with the amount of patience she had left. People had never classified her as friendly, especially when she had a saint for a sister, but she had adopted the persona of intimidating.
Kelsey laughed, taking a long gulp of her own drink, “Sweetheart, we just want to know how on earth you even passed your entrance exam?”
Lizzie felt her nails dig into the palm of her hand because she knew she was a damn good lifeguard. She was human and she made mistakes, never had it been one that dire before and her mind was still grasping at that. She had studied for weeks and passed with flying colors- but she wasn’t about to give Jed or his little lackey the satisfaction of her fighting back.
“Leave the girl alone.”
Both lifeguards tore their predatory gazes away from Lizzie and situated them on the entrance of the kitchen; Hope Mikaelson seemed to stumble upon them, once again saving the day. Lizzie felt her blood boil because she had it handled. Much unlike the situation at the wave pool.
“Hope?” Jed had taken a half-step back “I didn’t’ think you were going to come tonight.”
“Funny, I was under the same impression.”
Kelsey swallowed loudly and lifted her chin in defeat, maybe even acknowledgment before the two of them stalked off and out of the kitchen entirely. Hope’s eyes were dark, darker than she had ever seen them before. Darker than that night in the locker room. She let out a sigh that was deep enough to echo a growl.
“I didn’t need your help.” Lizzie protested.
“Oh really? It seemed like you did. Jed and Kelsey would have eaten you alive, trust me.”
Hope turned away at once and left the kitchen through the hallway entrance. A small passage lined with photos of Kaleb’s family, one on the beach and two graduation shot’s. Lizzie pretended to ignore the fact that there was none of him. She followed her quickly.
“You can’t keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” Hope asked innocently.
“Swooping in like I’m some damsel in distress and you’re the hero that saves me from certain doom. I’ve got it covered, okay?” Lizzie reached forward and grasped at Hope’s wrist, trying to stop her halfway through the corridor.
Her back was suddenly against the drywall, the picture frames shaking at the strong impact. Though she had a few inches on Hope Mikaelson, she felt her heart rate spike. The other lifeguard had her pinned, a hand splayed next to her head and a dangerous hint in her stare.
“Don’t touch me, Saltzman. Not tonight.”
Lizzie gulped in the scent of vanilla and something metallic that she couldn’t’ place. Her voice came out a slight whisper and Hope’s impossible gaze flicked down to her lips. “What’s so different about tonight?”
“Coming here was a mistake.”
Hope tore herself away from the situation and pushed towards the front door. Through a group of people too stubborn to move. Lizzie blinked twice and tried to clear her head of the intoxicating allure that she had never registered before. She followed her again, instant relief washing over her once she was away from the stuffy house.
Anger still bubbled like an unchecked stew. What Hope had just done was shockingly intimate and her skin tingled where her hands had all but lingered. She glanced up at the moon sparingly and padded onto the walk where she searched either direction, but no Hope.
A thicket of woods surrounded the back of Kaleb’s house and for some pulling reason, Lizzie decided to brave it. The neon light of her cellphone was enough to make up for what the Blood Moon didn’t- and really, it wasn’t so hard to move along the wet trees and the subtle sounds of crickets.
“Hope!” she called out, breaking the near silence.
Lizzie shouted out a few more times before she stumbled into a clearing surrounded by stars. The stretching grass reached her knees and swayed like a crimson ocean in the scattered light. A deep pit formed in the center of the blonde's stomach; because maybe this was a terrible idea. The hairs on her arms stood up at attention. She didn’t feel alone.
She scanned her eyes against the tree line as the wind picked up until they landed on a set of eyes. Too low to the ground to be human, glowing like the moon above as they bored into her. She had read somewhere that in the face of an animal you had to make yourself look bigger but all she wanted to do was shrink.
Lizzie was rooted in her spot, helpless as the creature slowly stalked from its home in the shadows. Large and black and bigger than any type of dog that she had spotted before. Its eyes were a dark red and a deep growl erupted from the wolf’s chest. Lizzie felt like her own was on fire.
Another, smaller wolf, that was spotted in gold followed, its stance strong and offensive. Now would be a good time for her to run, or to cry, she wasn’t sure which instinct would latch onto her first but with the way her eyes felt heavy she considered it was the latter.
“Good doggie,” Lizzie held her palms out and lowered them because she saw it in a Chris Pratt movie about dinosaurs once. But the animals kept approaching and her legs felt like Jell-O. “Nice doggie.”
The larger one snarled and crouched lower to the ground. Its tail tucked and nose crinkled, and suddenly it was increasing its speed. Lizzie dropped to her knees and clenched her eyes shut, and she waited for impact.
For the warmth of blood and the sound of her own screams. The thought of News Vans and police officers and yellow caution tape flashed in front of her instead of some poetic movie of the good parts of her life. Maybe they wouldn’t even find her body because it would be picked clean to the bone.
Instead, she breathed deep on the scent of soil as she felt it work its way under her nails. There was another noise, one that was louder than her own heart. A yelp of fear low enough to only come from the animal lunging at her.
She propped one eye open and saw the black wolf on its back, hissing out in what could only be described as palpable fear. The yellow one had its tail tucked and eyes averted, golden and flashing in the light of the moon.
Lizzie dug her heels into the dirt of the clearing and pushed herself back a couple of inches, propping up on her elbows. Another wolf, smaller than the black one and so gray it was almost white like snow, emitted a loud and commanding rumble.
She felt her hands dig right into the roots of the grass as if she gripped it for stability. The black wolf rose from its position and let out a huff of air before dashing back into the cover of the trees. Inky and all too consuming.
The newcomer sent out another warning growl before the second animal scampered away entirely. But Lizzie could still feel the fear in the air like electricity as the white wolf shot an accusing glare at her, leaking with the annoyance of something larger.
The hair on the wolf’s back suddenly smoothed out and its ears were flat, head dipping and brilliant golden eyes shrouded with worry.
Lizzie conjured her words “I’m okay. Thank you.”
She sat and stared at the creature for a long moment, feeling the sting where her palms had scraped against rocks and dirt. It cocked it’s large head to the side as if questioning her, and took a daring step forward.
“You’re not so scary, huh?” She leaned up a little bit and the wolf let out a huff of air as if to protest the statement. “Oh? And you can understand me too.”
Maybe this was a fever dream, she realized suddenly. She had fallen in the woods looking for Hope and had hit her head on a log or a rock. Someone would come looking for her eventually and she would wake up in a hospital bed with enough ammunition to get even with Hope Mikaelson for saving that kid.
“Lizzie!” The call of her sister broke the world that they were in and the wolf took a few ample steps back. Those brilliant marigold orbs scanning the tree line.
“Wait, don’t-“
But the wolf had already caught wind of the scent and was rushing in the opposite direction of the way it carried. Fluid and so strong in its motions that Lizzie was entirely sure that none of this could be real.
Her sister, covered in muck and dirt, sprouted through the trees, nearly falling over herself. Lizzie felt bad for the worry on her face and the pure fear that soon followed. “MG said he saw you run out of the house and go into the woods- what are you doing out here?”
“I needed some fresh air.” She didn’t even buy that.
“Then why are you on the ground?”
“Looking at the moon, you’re right. It is kind of cool.”
Josie suddenly got a pensive look on her face as she squinted at the apple-red color in the sky. She shook her head and reached a hand down to her sister, not minding the dirt or the possible blood that coated her own palm. She pulled her to her feet and glanced around apprehensively.
“Come on, it’s creepy out here and I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
Lizzie didn’t’ answer, instead, she followed Josie and hoped that the shorter of the two knew where she was going. But her nerves eased as the electronic sound of the party's music started to fill her ears once more. She couldn’t help but agree;
This was too much excitement for one night.
#hope mikaelson#lizzie saltzman#lizzie x hope#hizzie#Hizzie fanfic#Legacies#legacies fanfic#legacies fanfiction
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the first encounter
Thank you again to my lovely wife @boymeetsweevil 😍💜💖
Warnings: mentions of anxiety, angst, lots of crying, alcohol consumption, mean Jb, brother sister bonding(?), manhandling, idk what else please let me know if i missed anything!
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🖤 (saturday 2:20 AM)
i have a surprise for you
You stare at your phone, and you have to convince yourself not to panic. It’s the first time since you’ve stopped seeing Yoongi that you feel ready to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and now you’re not sure you even want to try. A sense of dread fills you, what would have once filled you with some sort of comfort now does nothing but wreak havoc on your already distressed heart. How are you going to get out of this, surprise or not, you're absolutely sure you don't want it. Not anymore at least, it's with this that you take a shaky breath noticing the trembling of your hands as they grip the phone tight. You want to call Yoongi, want to hear the soft drawl of his voice as he takes your mind away from all the thoughts swirling in your head. You want to curl up in his bed, in the downy soft of his sheets, and feel his fingers run through your hair. You want to be with Yoongi. You take another breath gaze falling to the message once more, what did it mean? What could JB be planning, you can't begin to imagine what it could be, the tears come quick because you’re not ready. Not ready to face JB, not now, not ever.
You wipe at your eyes quickly, scrubbing the tears away, because now isn't the time to cry. You’d done enough crying in the last three weeks, had felt worse than you have all your life. Though it's about time you stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Life has its ups and downs and sure you had more downs than ups so far but that doesn't mean you should crumble so easily. It's now that you’ve managed to calm your breathing that you realize this was the end of you and JB. Somehow your brain registers your previous thought, the one involving Yoongi. The one that had your broken heart fluttering instead of filling with anxiety. You don’t think of JB, you push him to the furthest corner of your brain, because tonight you want to be you again. It's been so long since you’ve been the girl you were before JB, before Yoongi but had found yourself slowly finding her again.
Maybe it's because Yoongi had unknowingly reached into those hidden parts and slowly pulled her to the surface. Pulled her out from the depths of an ocean she had long since been drowning in. It’s been so long, you almost don’t recognize the girl standing in your mirror. She looks better than you had felt in what feels like forever, it's the first time since your break up (if you could call it that) with Yoongi and your time away from JB that you had felt comfortable in your own skin. Had felt beautiful without the low gravel of Yoongi’s voice in your ear, without the possessive and slightly belittling tone JB said it in. It's no wonder Jimin had been hesitant to leave you alone, you’re sure he doesn’t know what you’ve gone through with JB but you’re sure he would be pissed. Maybe his worry had stemmed from when he’d found you in the kitchen two weeks ago eating cupcakes straight from the tin.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing." You mumbled cheeks full.
"Are those the cupcakes?"
"No," you paused, carefully unwrapping another cupcake "they’re baby cakes."
"Are you sure you’re okay? You’re crying in front of the fridge stuffing your face with cupcakes at 3 in the morning." Jimin sighed eyes trained on your figure as you lifted the aforementioned cake to your lips. Lips open wide as you pushed the entirety of the pastry into your mouth before closing it and proceeding to chew. ‘That’s disgusting’ he thought, face twisted in disgust watching you basically swallow the cupcake whole as you sobbed silently around a mouthful of cake.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jimin says prying the clear container from your lap and setting it aside, it doesn't help, you already have two cupcakes in your hands. You shake your head still chewing as tears continue their trek across your cheeks.
“Okay, do you mind if I keep you company then?” you shake your head again and he realizes that maybe those few words from earlier is all he’s going to get out of you tonight. You two sit in the relative silence, the fridge light is soft on your features reminding Jimin just how much younger you are than him. He feels his heart clench, the last time he’d found you like this was when your grandma had passed and it had been like living with a complete stranger. You look broken, and Jimin wants to cry, to scream, to be angry because he doesn’t know how to make you feel better.
"It hurts, it hurts so much. I don't want to hurt anymore." You mumbled arms wrapping around Jimin before pressing your face into his neck and letting out some long suffering sobs. Jimin feels the tears prick at his eyes as he wraps you up in his arms. He’s quiet as he cries because he’s just so frustrated, how could he have let this happen. He’s disappointed in himself for not having noticed your suffering, maybe he should’ve paid closer attention. Yet he’s not sure if you’re feeling the way that you are because of Yoongi or because of something else. He thinks he should go see his friend, maybe he can figure it out if he talks to Yoongi. He doesn’t cry for long, there’s this weird feeling clinging to his shirt and he suddenly feels uncomfortable.
"Did you just stain my shirt?"
"M'sorry, it was an accident." You mumbled against the skin of his neck. He felt your breathing even out and soon enough your arms fall limp around his being. With a heavy sigh and a bit of struggling he managed to stand your form pressed against his as he made his way to your bedroom.
You had felt bad in the morning, eyes puffy and red rimmed from lack of sleep but you had apologized before puking your guts out from all the cupcakes you had eaten. You cringe at the thought, still remembering all that had happened afterwards, but today you feel good. It's time to move on, and if Yoongi never wanted to see you again then so be it. It would hurt but you had mended your heart more times than you could count and Yoongi would be the last person to hurt you.
There’s a heavy bass coming from the speakers in the living room, the floor is vibrating in tune with the beat and you’ve worked up a sweat with the people who crowd the dance floor. Some of the bodies are dancing and others have taken to bouncing around in a mosh pit like fashion, you’re having fun, but most of all you feel free. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the little bit of weed you had smoked from Jimin’s ‘hidden’ stash, you’re not too sure but it feels nice to really have fun. You feel light and the smile hasn’t left your lips since you turned up at this party, you don't think you have anything to worry about. The night is turning out amazing, a girl with dark hair smiles softly at you, her shoulders are bare and you eye her intricate mandala tattoo. It's beautiful with a half moon in the center, you briefly wonder where she got it done, your gaze travels just past the boy's shoulder who stands with her and you feel your knees buckle.
Steve Aoki’s ‘wake up call’ is ringing in your ears, the chorus deafening because you really want to wake up. This has to be a bad dream, there’s no way it could be possible. Your limbs lock up, body shoved this way and that by the crowd that had once easily embraced you, your eyes widened as you watch JB make his way to you with a smirk. His hair is tied up in a bun and he’s just as handsome as you remember but all you feel is dread. He’s dressed in a black button up tucked into fitted black jeans. Half the buttons are left undone revealing a little too much of his chest, something you loved once, but don’t know how to react to now. He easily makes his way to you wrapping an arm around your waist the other easily tangling in your curls.
“Missed me baby?” he murmurs pulling you close. Your breath is stuttered as you struggle to give him an answer. He doesn't like the wide eyed look you're sending him, he also doesn't like how much skin you’re showing everyone here.
“I asked you a question.” he breathes pulling on your hair, making you cry out in pain. Tears prick at your eyes as his grip tightens.
“Y-yeah, always miss you.” you say voice strained. There’s movement in your peripheral and you chance a glance.
Yoongi doesn’t know why he’s here, he hasn’t felt in the party mood for a while but he’s already here so he makes the most of it. Maybe he needs this, he could find someone to make him forget. The idea seems more and more appealing with every drink he has, sadly enough he stops at three. He doesn’t like to say it but he’s a sad drunk, likes to pick at old wounds and usually feels worse come morning because even drunk Yoongi was something sober Yoongi remembered. He’d spotted Jungkook some time ago huddled in the corner with a petite girl straddling his thigh. He hadn't gone over because Jungkook quite frankly was a freak, so the kid was a little on the quiet side but he’d done things Yoongi had only ever dreamed of.
Still he’s itching for a smoke, but besides Jungkook he doesn’t really trust anyone’s weed. The house is packed, bodies filling every room and hallway, he’s almost certain he saw Jimin swapping spit with a redhead near the bathroom. He can see Hoseok dancing with his best friend Luna from his seat near the alcohol and if you asked him they’re a little handsy to just be friends. He doesn’t care all that much though, who is he to judge them? He briefly wonders if Jackson is here, his need for a smoke is too much and even though Jackson’s weed makes him sick he’s willing to make the sacrifice. He’s quick to scan the crowd for that obnoxiously shiny head of hair but instead finds the man from the convenience store the other day.
There’s a furrow to Yoongi’s brow as he watches this stranger scan the crowd before he seems to find his target. He shouldn't care, especially since he doesn't know this guy to begin with but he follows his line of sight to you. You’re standing in the middle of the dance floor and it's the first time in weeks Yoongi has seen you. He takes some time to study you, your hair is curled hanging around your face making his fingers twitch, but what really gets him is the outfit you’re wearing. The lace bralette crop top and satin mini skirt make his mouth feel dry, he wants to walk over and beg on his knees for you to let him feel your skin beneath his palms. Wonders if you miss him as much as he missed you, but it’s now that he realizes that you too are gazing back at the other man. He wants to be upset at you but he can’t be, not when he isn't your boyfriend to begin with. Yet somehow, something in him screams to go to you. It’s not like Yoongi can just walk up to you like, ‘hey remember me, we fucked for a bit then i said all that mean shit to you? Yeah i’d love it if you could suck my dick again.”
He really isn't made for this lovely dovey crap he thinks just about ready to tear his gaze away from the display before him. Though he doesn’t because in the next moment this creep has his hands on you and you don't look to be enjoying it either. You’re standing stiff, arms limp at your sides as the other man embraces you, Yoongi narrows his eyes because he’s not sure but he thinks he can just barely make out the tears in your eyes. Something flares up inside him when he notices the hand knotted in your hair, causing your neck to arch back to gaze up the other man. He shouldn't get involved, for all he knows this could be your thing; but there’s this feeling in the pit of his stomach that says something is wrong. He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself, easily sliding in between the bodies of eager dancers. He’s just about to step in when he makes eye contact with you. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears, eyes wide and slightly frightened as they meet his.
“Sweetpea you okay?” he asks, tone full of concern because Yoongi has never seen you look so scared.
“Sweetpea? Why is he calling you that baby?” JB mutters loosening his grip on your hair. His gaze darkens as he takes Yoongi in.
“It’s nothing, he’s a friend of my brothers.” you hurriedly say eyes darting between both of them.
“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks again when he sees the twitch of your fingers as he steps closer.
“M’fine.” you answer and he watches as you shoot a small glance at the other man before shying away, the hand on your waist pulling you into the man’s side.
“You sure?”
“Look man, she said she was fine.”
“Yeah and I wasn't asking you.” Yoongi snaps. JB laughs his gaze falling to you and you flinch in his hold.
“Oh I get it, she fucked you. Was he better than me baby, was his cock bigger than mine?” he asks but there’s a dark look in his eyes.
“N-no, no. You’re the best.” you say automatically and Yoongi feels his temper flare. Not because he doubts his sexual prowess but because he can see the pleading look you’re sending his way.
“Good, now give me a kiss.” Jb says as his thumb and forefinger dig into the meat of your cheeks, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. You seem like a totally different person standing next to this guy whom Yoongi can only assume is your boyfriend. You whimper the sound filling Yoongi’s ears and it's not one that he enjoys because you sound hurt. Yoongi can only watch as you flinch again when JB bites your lower lip, the pale rose flesh blooming with color the moment he pulls away. The tears have begun to fall, smile wobbly as you peak at the other boy under your lashes.
“Let's get out here baby, wanna show you how much I missed you.” he says eyeing Yoongi with a glare. You don't utter a word only nod slightly before being dragged out of the crowd. It's a last minute thought but yoongi reaches out taking your hand before you can disappear. He doesn't say anything just watches as you turn to him looking every bit as scared as he feels. Your hand grips his tight, but he doesn't know if it's to reassure him or to make yourself feel better. He wants to say something, anything to make sure this is what you want but he can't. Can't find the words to apologize to you, can't seem to form proper sentences because all he can feel is fear, is this the last time he’ll see you? Will you leave when the summer is over like a changing season, will you forget about him?
His heart aches with the thought, is it for the best? He doesn't think so, but perhaps you’ve already made your choice. He lets go of your hand, doesn't see the way your lips wobble, or the tears that quickly cloud your vision again. Doesn’t see the look of absolute dread on your face as JB pulls you along and out of the crowd.
✧✧✧✧✧
taglist: @bussy-posts, @peachymochimochi
#mine writings#emm writes#min yoongi x reader#college boy yoongi#college girl mc#college boys bts#College!AU#im jaebeom#jung hoseok#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#kim seokjin#jeon jungkook#jeon jeongguk#park jimin#brother jimin#bts fanfic
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“Nothing grows in my back yard” (Original short horror story)
Nothing ever grows in my back yard. Every time I try to plant something, even though I care for it meticulously, it soon withers and dies. No matter what plant, flower, or tree, they all die. Even the grass dies, sickly yellow patches interspersed with thick weeds covering the entirety of the yard. The stress of it all was beginning to get to me after so long. I loved to garden. It was one of my favorite past times, and helped me deal with the horrendous anxiety of living alone. But my yard was starting to make me think I just did not have the green thumb necessary to do it. I considered giving up on it so many times, but something always brought me back and had me trying again.
Thats how I found myself yanking the weeds that had grown back for the umpteenth time every Sunday afternoon, instead of relaxing like everyone else. There was one weed in particular that bothered me to no end. It looked like a small tree, surrounded by tall crabgrass. The tree-like weed had a waxy, whiteish stem. The branches grew in strange, sharp angles, with small, red leaves sprouting from the ends.
It usually grew up to my shoulders before I had a chance to yank it out. But no matter how many times I pulled it, it always grew back. Finally, after many months of battle, it had grown too big for me to pull out. Its trunk thickened to a point I couldn’t fit my hands around it. The thin, angular branches stretched higher than my roof. After that I reluctantly gave up and let it be. The rest of the yard was more concerning anyway.
I thought perhaps my soil was bad, so I started doing research on how to restore it. For an entire summer, I worked to bring my yard back to life. And it seemed to be working; the new grass was growing in, the trees and rose bushes I planted were taking root. Even the tree weed looked to be finally dying, its tall branches now drooped down, and the stark white of the trunk had turned a sickly grey. I praised my lucky stars. Though of course, this wonderful luck lasted all of two months.
It was on a brisk, Fall afternoon. After coming home from a very long work day, I went to check the progress of my yard. As soon as I rounded the hall corner and the double sliding glass doors came into view, I froze. I was rooted to the spot, my mouth hanging agape as I stared with wide eyed horror at my yard. Everything was dead. My roses, shriveled and brown, littered the ground around the bush, along with all its leaves. Only dead sticks remained, reaching up to the sky in a desperate, yet futile attempt to live.
The grass had turned a sick yellow color, crinkled and dry, devoid of life. The young trees I had planted were completely uprooted, as if a hurricane had hit them and pulled them from the earth. Each one lay on their sides, roots flailing uselessly in the breeze next to small craters in the ground where they had once been standing. Shock and disbelief had my blood running cold, then hot. How had this happened in less than a day? It was impossible. Unless someone poisoned all of it, maybe. Just as my mind began racing over who the culprit could be, I spotted something stark white in my periphery.
I shot my gaze over to the tree weed. It had doubled, maybe tripled in size. It stood at least twenty feet high now. Its white trunk probably stretched the width of three people standing side by side. Long, shark branches shot out everywhere. Thick, dark maroon leaves hung off the tips. Along the tree ran thousands of small red and purple veins that looked eerily like a human circulatory system. I glanced down to see the roots had grown so large they breached the surface of the soil halfway across the yard.
Unable to comprehend what I was seeing, and not able to deal with the stress anymore, I went back inside, slamming the door shut behind me with a distressed growl. Later that night I searched online for any possible answer, finding none. I thought of calling a professional out. Even though it might be costly, maybe they could shed some light on the situation. I toyed with that idea for the rest of the night, but frankly, I was too tired to do anything about it. I was just done with my yard. I had been working so hard to fix it for so long, I just felt like giving up at that point.
The following day I cupped my hand over the side of my face, blocking the yard from view as I walked past the sliding glass doors to get breakfast. I was so upset that I couldn’t even handle seeing it in my periphery. In the middle of my delicious soggy cereal meal, a knock sounded at my door. The knock sounded two more times in quick succession on my way to get it. “I’m coming!” I shouted. Swinging the door open a little rougher than I intended, I glared at my neighbor, Leslie, standing there, fist raised for yet another knock.
She smiled wanly and lowered her hand. “Hi, sorry to bother you. I know its early...But do you know where Hunter is?” Her voice contained thinly veiled panic. Hunter was Leslie’s ten year old son. Her very annoying ten year old son. He, like any normal child, always played in their front yard with his friends. They always yelled so loudly I could hear them from my bedroom. One time the kid even put a hockey puck through my window. I constantly had to remind myself of the fact he was only a kid when my temper flared at him.
“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him. Is everything alright?” Concern replaced my earlier irritation. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her hair was sat in a tangled mat on her head. She looked like hell. Her kid was missing? I began mentally preparing to get ready to join a search. “He went out to play with his new baseball gear yesterday evening and didn’t come back. I called him in for dinner and he didn’t answer. I searched the whole neighborhood and I couldn’t find him. I don’t know what to d-do!” Tears began flowing down her face as she spoke, her arms gesturing wildly as her panic rose closer to the surface.
I glanced behind her to see her husband knocking on the doors of the other neighbor’s houses. “I came home from work at six yesterday and I didn’t see anything. Have you called the police?” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “Yes, they’re going around searching too. If in 24 hours we still can’t find him, they’ll put out a missing person’s report.” She broke out into sobs then. “Alright, give me ten minutes. I’ll help.” I said, placing my hands on her shoulders in a vain attempt to calm her. She thanked me through bleary eyes before I shut the door and quickly threw on my clothes.
The search went on all day and for part of the night. We recruited quite a few other concerned neighbors on the search as well. People were driving slowly down the streets, calling Hunter’s name out of their car windows. We canvased the nearby parks while the police searched inside the schools. Hunter was nowhere to be found.
Days, then months passed, and there was still no sign of the boy. Hunter’s photo haunted me from every street post. The police investigation was going nowhere. And after a while, the police stopped looking for a living child, and began searching for a body. I spent my days off consoling Leslie and helping in the search. I was exhausted, but if there was a chance to find Hunter alive, I wasn’t going to give up. He was just a child. Even though my own hope that they would find the kid alive had dwindled over the past month, I would still help. One morning, as I trudged to the kitchen in a daze, sleep deprivation causing me to drag my feet, a flash of white caught my eye through my sliding glass doors.
Through all that had happened, I had completely forgotten about my dead yard. I hesitated to look, fearing the sight might upset me again. I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever though, so I turned with a sigh to gaze upon my lifeless yard. It was the same as it had been months ago, everything shriveled and dead, brown, yellow and a stark white tree dominating the space. It did not upset me as much this time though.
Perhaps it was because I had bigger problems now, more upsetting problems. I studied my yard for a few long moments. I don’t know what drove me, but for some reason I felt compelled to go outside. I slipped my feet into my sandals and slid the door open. The deadened grass crunched beneath my feet. My blood turned to ice, dread pooling in my gut as I approached the sickly tree weed.
The silence of the yard was almost like a vacuum, sucking in sound as it was made. I came to a stop a few feet in front of the tree. The red and purple veins had thickened noticeably. They seemed to pulse and quiver up close. All the hair on my body stood on end as I looked up to study the branches that reached high into the sky. I don’t know how I missed it that first day. It stood out so clearly now. I gasped in panicked breaths as my eyes locked on something high up in the tree, surrounded by large, deep maroon leaves. My eyes burned, my chest tightened. Because there, tangled in the high branches, was a baseball.
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Jungkook x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU Oneshot
Description: You weren’t quite sure if Jungkook and you were dating or not, but the kisses the two of you shared made you think you were. However, one day he yells at you, telling you that such a thing could never happen creating a wall between the both of you. While you and Jungkook were tending to the crops one morning while waiting for the return of the scavenger team at base, an invasion caught the both of you off guard.
The summer breeze grazes your skin as you walk throughout your base making you reminisce about how you even got here in the first place.
//
It’s late in the evening, about 5 o’clock. You’re running from a hoard of the undead with no ammo left until you come across a set of giant concrete walls with a tall gate.
You stop and look up at the walls and spot two figures atop the walls on a pedestal. One of them is a white man, probably in his forties, with a grey, scruffy beard, and the other one, a boy who is most likely about nineteen years of age. He seems to be East Asian, most likely Korean. He has soft features and dreamy, wide doe-like eyes.
“Let me in!” You shout. “Please!”
The two men hold up their rifles, shooting and killing off the corpses that are closing in on you and they stare at you intently. “Name, age, and amount of people you killed,” they demand.
“I-,” you stutter. “(Y/N)(L/N), I’m eighteen years old and I’ve never had to kill anyone, Sir.”
The older man nods at the younger boy and he pulls a lever, making the gates open. The younger, good-looking boy hops down from the pedestal and rushes over to the gates to greet you.
“Hi,” he says shyly, hiding his blush under the black bucket hat in which he’s wearing. “My name is Jeon Jungkook and welcome to Bangtan!” He smiles at you, making your heart tremble.
//
As you walk on the street, you pass by the bases’ church, farm, and many of the houses that are being used by the other survivors that were taken in as well.
“Hey! (Y/N)!” Your thoughts get broken by the sound of your best friend’s voice. A muscly arm suddenly gets wrapped around your shoulder as a quick peck is placed at the top of your head.
“What’s up, Kookie?” You ask, acting disinterested in the fact that he is with you even though you really weren’t. You and Jungkook’s friendship has flourished over the two months that you had known each other. He told you everything; how he used to be interested in singing, what he does for fun, and he even told you about his past relationship.
He told you that back at the beginning of the apocalypse, he had a girlfriend named Heejin, but she had been bitten way back then. Jungkook had to kill her himself by shooting her in the brains. He explained the amount of weight that was put on his shoulders and the distress he experienced of losing the one he once loved. This almost made you jealous of the girl, but instead, you would pat him on the shoulder and give him hugs, reassuring him that everyone was safe at the base.
“Nothing much, just helping everyone prepare for the next scavenge trip and tending to the crops.”
You just simply nod your head to show him that your listening and the two of you start walking with each other in silence, your hand frequently brushing up against his own.
Even though it’s silent, the atmosphere is extremely comfortable as the two of you bask in each other’s company.
“Did you here about how we are both gonna be doing the same chores while the team is gone?” He asked.
Usually whenever the team of runners goes out, everyone left back at base is assigned certain chores. Jungkook used to be a runner, that is, until he sprained his ankle while escaping from an enemy group. He’s been healing ever since and he’s actually been doing pretty recently so soon enough, he’ll be back on track. However, he still has a small limp in his step as he walks by your side.
“You’re working in the fields too?” You ask, relieved that there will be someone you’re close to with you. “Thank God!”
Jungkook lets out a high pitched giggle. The same high pitched giggle that you’ve come to love so much.
Speaking of “love”, does Jungkook even love you the same way as you love him? You almost stop in your tracks. ‘I mean, he kisses me as if he loves me. He showers me with complements and tells me I’m wonderful, does that mean he loves me?” You ask yourself.
You then decide that at the end of your walk, you’re going to tell him about your growing affection for him, the boy you’ve come to love.
//
After walking around the base at least twice, you and Jungkook come to a stop. “I suppose we should part ways here,” he says, flashing you that adorable bunny smile he has. Oh how you could never get over that cute bunny smile of his.
He almost starts walking away, but before he can you shout, “Wait, Kook!”
Jungkook stops abruptly and turns towards you, giving you an expectant look. “Yes, (Y/N)?”
“I- I just,” you can’t seem to find the right words. “Is there an ‘us’?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen at that and he almost lets out a laugh out of disbelief. “There can’t be an ‘us’, (Y/N)...”
“But- but you made it seem like we were a thing I-,” you cut yourself off, a lump forming in your throat.
“I don’t love you and I never will,” he gives you a stern look. “Now stay away, won’t you? You just annoy me.” He tells you, walking away.
He left just like that, huh. He left you just as alone as you were before meeting him.
Though, you were fully aware that there was a chance that he could reject you, you never expected such harsh words to be spewed at you, especially from him.
Uncontrollable tears fill your eyes and bile rises in your throat from how overwhelmed you are over the situation. Your face reddens and with shaky hands, you cover your mouth.
You and Jungkook are done. Forever. He said it himself so there was no doubting the fact that he must hate you now. He must.
Sprinting back home, you hold in your tears and hide your face, not wanting to expose the obvious sadness in your eyes. The many other survivors passing by you give you a worried look as you rush past them.
Upon arriving back at your small, humble house, you lazily carry yourself upstairs and into your room, flopping onto your bed, face down. Almost immediately the water works start. You lose track of time as you cry, staring at a recent Polaroid of Jungkook and yourself which makes you feel even worse.
//
Soon enough, the day in which the runner team leaves for their journey finally comes around and you’re extremely nervous. Not only are you nervous about the safety of the people who are apart of the team, since they will be in unavoidable danger, but you’re also nervous about the fact that you have to work at the same station as Jungkook today.
Taking a deep breath, you climb out of bed and head to the bathroom to take a quick shower. One of the best parts of this base is that they have working showers. Although the water is cold, it still makes you feel ten times cleaner than you did when you were surviving alone in the wilderness.
After stepping out of the shower, you pull on a pair of blue skinny jeans and a random white tee shirt. You realize that this “random white tee shirt” is also Jungkook’s white tee shirt, which fills you to the brim with anxiety. Instead of dwelling on it, you keep the shirt on thinking that Jungkook wouldn’t even realize it was his and you make your way out of the house.
As you walk, one of your best friends from the base, Mina, starts walking next to you and talking both excitedly and fast. Something about this new guy, Hoseok, that she has a massive crush on already.
However, you could barely even focus on what the girl was saying as you were too busy worrying about how awkward working with Jeon will be considering your situation.
Everytime she said something, you’d just hum in response and half-heartedly nodded your head, pretending as if you were paying attention.
“I’m working at the armory, so I have to leave you here, (Y/N). Bye bye!” Mina said cheerfully.
You shake your head, awakening yourself from your daydream. “Huh? Oh, bye Mina...”
Once you arrive at the fields, you take a look at the bulletin board for today’s schedule.
•Yoongi and Amber- planting corn seeds
•Soobin and Kai- pulling weeds
•Jungkook and (Y/N)- tending to the strawberry bushes
“Shit,” you accidentally said aloud. Working at the same area with Jeon made everything so much more difficult.
‘What if he talks to me?’
‘What if he DOESN’T talk to me?”
You don’t even want to think about how upsetting it would be for him to just completely ignore your presence as a whole.
“Excuse me,” a deep, boyish voice sounds from behind you.
You know that voice anywhere; it’s Jeon Jungkook.
You stand frozen, surprised to hear his voice so close to your ear.
“Umm... Can you move so I could see?”
Mentally facepalming and screaming at yourself for not moving, you practically sprint down the contecting path to where the strawberry plantation is.
What you don’t know is that Jungkook eyes your retreating form with guilt and utter despair.
Once finally arriving at the strawberry fields, you breath heavily from the run and decide to make yourself useful by picking up a brown basket and picking all of the ripe berries, popping a few in your mouth and savoring the flavor as you go.
After about ten minutes of picking berries and placing them into your basket, Jungkook’s incoming footsteps become audible to you. At this, you quickly immerse all of your attention to the strawberries in order to try to ignore him. It doesn’t work, but it still hurts Jungkook inside to see you ignore him completely. He wouldn’t tell you that, though.
Jungkook plops down about a meter away from you and gets to work. This silence between the two of you isn’t natural and calm like the last time you were together, instead the atmosphere was dreary and tense.
An hour into working continuously, he decides to say something to you. “Hey, (Y/N) I-,” his sentence gets cut off by the ear piercing sound of the base’ alarm. The sound is that of that of a fire truck’s siren, except much louder. You quickly cover your ears and crouch down on your knees, shaking.
Jungkook stands up to try to access the situation for neither of you knew what was happening. It couldn’t have been a drill, those were too risky, so you assumed only the worst.
“Everyone please stay indoors. I repeat; everyone please stay indoors,” a monotone voice announces into the loud speaker. “There has been an invasion. The zombies have made it through the gates and are now swarming the base. We advise everyone to stay indoors while we figure out a solution. Do not leave until further notice.”
This announcement evokes even more panic within you than the sirens did. You almost start crying, but before you can, Jungkook runs up to you and grabs your hand, pulling you along as he runs. You can barely keep up with the much faster boy as each one of his steps equals two of yours.
“Hurry (Y/N)! Come on!” He shouts back at you.
You muster up all of the energy you have left and carry on, trailing closely behind him. There are no completely secure buildings in the fields that could protect us from the potential swarming zombies, so Jungkook leads you towards the main area. Luckily, the undead have only gotten slightly past the broken down gates, smoke and fire engulfing your only way out. Distracted by the scene displayed in front of you, you feel a tug on your hand from the same warm hand that was just previously encompassing your own.
“Oh!” You let out, startled.
“We have to get back to my house,” he says, with labored breaths. “It’s safe there!”
The way Jungkook is looking at you is almost unsettling in a way. He’s looking at you with uttermost concern, as if he really cares about you despite what he said earlier in the week.
Trying not to ponder too much on it, you nod your head, humming in response. He pulls you along the cement road, twisting and turning down the different streets until you both finally make it to his house. You both hide behind one of the bushes in his yard to catch your breaths.
At this point, you figure that most of the zombies have made it inside the base by now so every step you take must be as silent as possible.
You were right. Those godforesaken corpses have made it in, and they were getting closer by the minute.
You can even see one of them, stumbling down the road followed by four more. You’re too anxious to even have a mind of your own. Remembering what it was like outside the walls, surrounded by bloodied corpses everyday, not knowing whether you’d live another day or not is making your mind swim with different emotions that you can’t even name.
“(Y/N),” Jungkook whispers. “Let’s go inside. They won’t find us if we just hurry up a little.”
He places a protective arm around your waist and pulls you closer, whispering at you to stay as quiet as humanly possible.
Stalking over to the perfectly painted white door, he pulls out his key and pushes it into the the key hole, turning it. Once it opens, you turn your head around to see that the horde of zombies that was once down the street were only about ten feet away from you. At this, you practically push yourself and Jungkook into the house, slam the door shut behind you and lock all of the available locks. The sound of the undead slamming and banging on the door can be heard, making you almost nauseous at the thought of them breaking in.
Sweat dripping down his forehead, Jungkook pulls you up the staircase and into his bedroom. Shutting the door, the two of you slide down the wall onto your bums, panting out.
He looks you up and down. “That’s,” he breaths out with exhaustion. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
You simply turn in the opposite direction letting out a prominent and angry “hmph,” glaring at the shiny hardwood floor.
Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh, “(Y/N), I’m-“.
“Shut the fuck up,” you shout, tears brimming at your eyes. You already know what he’s going to talk about, but you don’t want to hear it.
However, that doesn’t stop Jungkook from speaking his mind. “(Y/N), let me speak!”
“No! You can’t say shit like that to me and act as if I’ll want to speak to you after,” the tears finally start to fall. “You said you didn’t want to talk to me again so I’m just abiding to your wishes.” Anger starts to become evident in your tone.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I didn’t mean it, I swear. It’s just that I,” he pauses, creating dramatic effect. “It’s just that I don’t want to get too attached to you like I did Heejin, just for you to die...” He too starts welling up with tears. His nose and puffy cheeks redden as he stares at you desperately. “I don’t want to lose you too so I thought- I thought that if I stopped talking to you, that it would benefit the both of us, but it only brought more pain. (Y/N), the last few days have been literal torture for me, and I now realize that I’ve hurt you too. I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Jungkook...”
“I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). The moment I saw you, I knew you’d be special to me,” he confesses.
“I love-,” the sudden banging on Jungkook’s bedroom door cuts you off, startling you.
Jungkook pulls you away from the door, distancing you from potential danger, and jumps in front of you. He pulls out his gun, aiming it for the door.
You grab onto his sleeve in fear as the door knob strangely opens.
“Zombies can’t open doors,” you think to yourself.
The door is pushed open and in come two of Jungkook’s close friends, Jackson and Namjoon. They’re both from the runner team which means that they came back safe and have cleared out all of the zombies. You let out a sigh of relief, feeling happy that the both of you are safe, along with your friends.
“Oh! Thank god you both are safe!” They say with wide eyes. “When we got back to see this place almost in ruins, we immediately cleared everything out and searched for survivors. The gate is currently being repaired, but umm... Did we interrupt something?”
“Yes.” “No!” The two of you say at the same time, causing Jackson and Namjoon to chuckle.
“Well, I suppose we better leave you two alone and search for everyone else,” Jackson says with a snide smirk, leading Namjoon out the door and closing it behind them.
Once they leave, Jungkook immediately throws his arms around and you brings you to his chest. “I’ll never do anything like that again, I love you,” he says.
“Lets get through this together, okay?” He smiles at you, kissing your forehead.
“Okay.”
#bts texts#bts reactions#bts namjoon#bts jin#bts yoongi#bts suga#bts jhope#bts jimin#bts taehyung#bts jungkook#bangtan#fanfiction#apocalypse#zombies
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Positive or Negative
Title: Positive or Negative
Pairing: Clementine x Louis
Word Count: 3374
Summary: Clementine turns to Violet for help, eventually Louis finds out the truth.
Warning: Few very brief mentions of sex but nothing in detail, gotta keep this rated T.
A/N: In this fic all the characters are 23 years old :) it’ll make sense why, trust me.
-
Her feet stomped against the creaking floorboards, it matched with the pounding in her chest. She ran as fast as she could up the stairs, trying not to trip over anything in the process. Landing on her stomach would not be smart right now. “Fuck don’t think like that. You don’t know for sure.” Clementine thought to herself. She slammed the doors to the office wide open, frightening Violet who was sitting at the desk.
“Fucking hell Clem, scare the shit out of me why don’t you,” Violet said coldly. She straightened out the new and improved map in her hand. “It’s actually good that you showed up, I need you and Ruby to remove the weeds from the greenhouse later today-”
“-I need your help!” Clementine shouted, causing Violet to stop mid-sentence. She didn’t mean to sound so abrasive, it just came out like word vomit. “I just...I have a problem and I can’t really talk to anyone else about it, not right now.”
Violet put the map down and guided Clementine to the chair opposite the desk. “I’m the only one? What about Louis?”
Clementine’s eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no he cannot know. Not now at least.”
Violet took note of how bad Clementine’s hands were trembling. It really began to shock her, in the six years of knowing Clementine she had never seen her in such a state of disarray, even if she had been oddly moody the past couple of weeks. “Oh my god, did he do something? I’ll snap that monkey like a twig!”
“He didn’t do anything wrong, it’s my fault. I was so stupid,” Clementine furiously wiped at her eyes to stop the oncoming tears. “You have to promise me not to tell this to anyone.”
Violet sat down opposite Clem. “You’re really starting to freak me out, what’s wrong?”
Clementine wrapped her jacket around her tightly. Where to begin? So many thoughts were flooding her brain that it was difficult to grab just one.
“I feel sick. Like all the time,” Clementine stared right into Violet’s eyes, sending shivers down the blonde girl's spine. “My..my stomach hurts everytime I wake up, whenever I eat meat and for the past two weeks I’ve just been feeling...irritable.”
Violet was beyond confused. “I seriously don’t get what you’re saying. So you feel sick, it happens to all of us.”
Clementine frantically grabbed Violet’s hands. “It’s more than that Violet. I think...I think I’m pregnant.”
Holy shit.
Violet didn’t even try and hide her shocked expression. Why even bother trying? She squeezed Clementine’s hands slightly. “Fuck, are you absolutely sure Clem? We don’t even have any pregnancy tests, are you sure it isn’t PMS? Is your period late?”
Clementine got out of the chair and paced around the room. “I am late, but that happens sometimes so I didn’t think anything of it at first.”
“Do you know how late you are?”
“About two weeks now. That was the first major sign.”
Violet sighed. She was never good at assisting people with personal problems, but with something this serious? What was there to say? “I really, really hate to ask this, but have you and Louis...y’know...flipped?” Violet attempted to put a positive spin on this by bringing back a good memory the two shared.
Clementine smiled a little. “Well, yeah. It was a month ago,” Her face began to flush just from thinking about it.
Violet scrunched up her face. “Oh god, I don’t want to hear about it!” She rubbed the sides of her head to prevent a headache she knew she would get after this, also to prevent any images of Clementine and Louis from entering her brain. “I’m sure everything will be fine Clem, but you have to tell Louis, even if you’re not pregnant he should know what’s going on.”
Clementine took Violet by surprise by embracing her in a hug. “I’m so scared Vi, I don’t know what to do. I’ve travelled with pregnant women before and it never ends well…” Violet could hear the soft cries Clementine let out onto her denim jacket, she slowly patted Clem on the back, albeit awkwardly. “You’re a badass Clem, you can survive anything. We’ll all be here for you if you are.”
Part of the weight that burdened Clementine slowly lifted off her shoulders, even if for a brief moment, she felt relaxed.
“Oh, Violet!”
“Fuck, shit no not now!” Clementine’s peaceful thoughts zapped away. Her relaxed state of mind now gone completely out the window at hearing that perfect sing-song tone.
“Ready to assign me a task that I will ultimately underperform?” Louis attempted to make a grand entrance with a joke, a common trope of his. It fell short when he noticed Violet and Clem standing in the centre of the room in the middle of a tight embrace, Violet clearly pissed at Louis and Clementine clearly very upset. “What’s wrong?” He immediately dropped his funny persona at the sight of a distressed Clementine. It was shocking to see her so upset, it seemed that nothing could really phase her. He took one step towards her but she immediately ran past him, bumping shoulders with him on the way.
“You can be a big dumbass sometimes.” Violet scoffed.
Louis turned back to her to try and get answers but seems he’s getting questions instead. “What the fuck just happened? Why is Clementine upset?”
Violet crossed her arms. “You should be asking her that. Ask her what's wrong then shut up and listen.” She grabbed the map before storming out of the office, leaving Louis to wallow in his growing panic.
-
The music echoing down the hall gave away her location. The repetition of the A key, then the B key, followed by the G key made him smile. The only keys she knew, the only ones he showed her. He quietly crept through the crack in the door, his eyes falling on her. Her back was slightly hunched over the piano as her finger pressed the same three keys in the same order. Her eyes were glassy, her skin pale. She didn’t object to him sitting down next to her, which he took as a nice sign. “Hey.”
She was envious of how calm he was. She wished she could go back a month ago, a time when she was also calm and not panicking about the future. “Hi. Sorry I ran off before, it was very overwhelming in that room.” Clementine stopped playing the piano, but she still couldn’t bring herself to look up at Louis.
“That’s what I’m here to find out. What’s the matter?” Louis gently scooped up her hands in his. They were so cold and were shaking ever so slightly.
“Inhale, exhale,” Clementine told herself. “I don’t really know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually the best place.” Louis playfully bumped her shoulder, ignoring Violet’s warning. But seeing Clementine not laugh, smile or react to it in anyway made him regret it.
“God this is awkward. You know how a month ago you and I…”
Louis sported a grin that went from ear to ear. “Yes my darling, what of it?”
Clementine started to pick at her fingernails to dwell the growing anxiety. “Well, a few weeks ago I started to feel nauseous. Then I noticed that I was late like my was period late. My nausea has been growing worse, I can’t eat meat without throwing up, which is something you’ve noticed,” Louis recalled to a few days ago when the group was having fish for dinner, Clementine took one bite and ran off. She told the group she had a stomach bug. “At first I thought it was just an illness, something that would pass. But it hasn’t and I’m starting to think I’m…”
She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were so warm, so inviting. Deep down she knew there was no reason to be afraid of telling him, it was more for herself. By saying it to him it made the situation real. Something that she couldn’t run from, not this time. “I think I’m pregnant.” She quickly looked away and shut her eyes, not wanting to witness his reaction.
But the laughter caught her completely off guard.
She frantically turned to look at him, his smile was so big she thought his face was about to crack.
“I’m not gonna lie, part of me was suspicious, you have been acting weird the past few weeks. Some small part of me thought you might have been pregnant, and you are. Holy shit, it’s mine!” He shouted with glee.
Clementine was conflicted, at least he wasn’t disappointed. But is it normal to be this excited, given the circumstances of their world? “How are you so...giddy?”
“How can you not? It’s a baby Clem! Our baby!” Louis felt like he was soaring. Having a baby with the woman of his dreams just completely exploded his heart.
“I’ve seen what happens to pregnant women in this world. When I was twelve the woman I was travelling with had a stillbirth, AJ’s mum died the day after giving birth to him and when AJ was a baby this woman I was with killed herself when she found out she was pregnant. So, there aren’t very good odds.”
Louis could see where the stress was growing from and it was justified. He couldn’t begin to fathom how he would react in those situations. “Look at AJ, he’s thriving. As long as you take care of yourself you’ll be fine.”
“It’s not that simple. We also have no food, no clothes, nothing required to look after a baby. I should have known this would happen, it was stupid to go through with it.”
She was right, neither of them was in a proper state of mind that night. It's true what the adults would say, one night of fun can have major consequences.
But god was it fun.
"We weren’t thinking properly I’ll give you that, but the actions of a drunk man reflect the thoughts of the sober. I blame Violet. She's the one who had convinced us to share that bottle of Smirnoff,"
Both of them agreed that it was a fun night. Violet had this bottle of Smirnoff she found on an expedition and decided to share it with the group during a game of Truth or Dare. Turns out too much Smirnoff can have more of an impact than originally thought.
"Maybe blowing on the strings will help you find harmony." His joke was met with a gentle punch to the arm. At least she still had her moxie.
"I appreciate what you're doing, but-"
"But what? I promise Princess I will cure what ails you." Louis crossed his heart.
"The timing isn't right. Kids never really crossed my mind, I thought AJ would be the closest thing I'd ever have." Clementine peaked through the wooden boards covering the window and saw AJ on watch with Willy. She got lucky with AJ, there were so many times he was almost lost forever.
"Clem, are you happy about this?"
Clementine didn’t know what to feel, she couldn’t make sense of it all. “I don’t know, I’m not even totally sure that I am pregnant. I just thought you should know now, in case that I am.” She gave him a hopeful smile, but after being together for this long, he could see right through it. He looped his arm around her waist and brought her in close.
“Thank you for telling me, I can’t imagine how Violet reacted.”
“She was actually pretty calm, as calm as Violet can be.” Clem joked, slowly she was starting to regain her composure.
“Clementine!”
“Speak of the devil.” Louis groaned.
Violet slammed through the doors, waving a purple box in the air.
“I found one! It was in the first aid kit I found on my last supply run,” Violet quickly walked towards Clementine and handed her the box. “It should work.”
Clementine slowly took the box from her hands and read the instructions on the back. “How has this not expired?”
Violet shrugged. “I don’t know, at least we have one. Come on, let’s find out,” She grabbed Clementine’s hand and began to drag her towards the girls' bathroom. “Best to get your uncertainty out of the way.”
“I guess I’ll just wait here then. Not like it’s mine or anything!” Louis called out to them as they fell out of sight.
Clementine managed to get her footing and let go of Violet’s hand. “I remember when I was seven, my mom's cousin fell pregnant and I was confused by it all. I didn’t know how it happened, how she found out and where the baby would be coming from. My mom gave her all this medical advice, something about a birth canal...it was weird.”
Violet chuckled. “Well, you’re about to experience all of that.”
-
“How much longer?”
“Thirty seconds.”
The bathroom was eerily cold, the only sound was Violet tapping her foot against the tiles. Thirty seconds felt like a very long time to wait. “I hate the downstairs bathroom, I wish we could somehow repair the one upstairs,” Violet was trying to pass the time and distract Clementine, who was staring very intently at the white stick. “Any possible names?”
Clementine smiled, but she didn’t look away from the stick. “Well, I like the name Diana, after my mom. If it’s a boy Ed, my dad's name. Then again, Lee would be a great name. Louis is going to want a say though.”
Violet scoffed. “He’s going to pick some dumb, old musicians name, like Beethoven,” Both of the girls laughed at the thought of Louis fighting over a name like Beethoven. Violet stopped laughing when she checked her cracked watch. “It’s time Clem,” The air suddenly felt very heavy. “You want to look first?”
Clementine took a step towards the sink, the stick lying there so innocently. “I can’t, I can’t do it. You look.” She quickly turned her back and focused on the graffiti written all over the stalls.
Violet carefully grabbed the stick. “It’s negative.”
Clementine's shoulders fell, her heart sinking as Violet's words repeated in her head. “It’s what?”
“Negative. You’re not pregnant.” Violet sounded a little sad, something that wrenched Clementine’s gut.
Clementine let out a shaky breath. “Okay then, maybe you were right and it’s just PMS,” Her attempts at hiding her tears didn’t go past Violet. “I guess we have nothing to worry about.”
“You okay Clem?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Her vision of a child with her gold eyes and Louis’ freckles ran out of her sight just as quickly as it appeared. “That’s good, right? I mean we don’t have any of the things we need, nothing like that,” Clementine couldn’t control the crack in her voice as she started to cry again. “This is so stupid, I don’t know why I’m so...is it really negative?”
“No, it’s positive.”
Clementine slowly turned towards Violet with wide eyes. “What?”
“It’s positive. I lied before, now you know how you really feel,” Violet gave Clem a cheeky smile as she passed her the stick. Clementine saw it for herself, a little pink plus sign. “Are you actually okay?”
Clementine sniffled as she let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I’m gonna have a baby... I’m gonna have a baby.”
Violet surprised herself by eagerly hugging Clementine. “Just so you know I never hug people and if you tell anyone about this I’ll deny all of it.”
Clementine soaked in the hug whilst she could. “I won’t say a word.”
Violet let go of Clem. “You should go tell Louis, when you’re both done being cute and gross come and find me, we need to start preparing for this baby now.” They walked back to Louis’s designated music room together, talking about what resources they were going to need. Violet gave Clem a fist bump before walking outside.
Clementine poked her head through the doors, Louis was pacing back and forth around the room, mumbling something to himself. “You okay Louis?”
Louis was caught off guard by Clementine’s surprise return. “Oh yeah, just thinking of potential names. I know that there’s the chance you’re not pregnant-”
Clem just couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I am.”
Louis’s whole body froze. “You...you’re pregnant?”
Clementine nodded her head. “Yeah, I guess I’ll have to take it easy for a while-”
She was cut off by a strong force, that force being Louis in the form of a hug. His arms were tightly wrapped around her, cracking some sore points in her back, Clementine eagerly hugged him back. “I will be there for you, whatever you need please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Something so simple as hearing those words caused the last of Clementine’s resolve. The thick trench coat beneath her absorbed all her pain, fear and worry that had been bubbling inside her the past few weeks. She cried, without bothering to hide it this time. Louis let her have this moment, this moment to let out everything she had been feeling without judgment. “I’m...I’m sorry,” She muttered between cries.
Louis pulled her off his jacket to glance into her watery eyes. “What are you sorry for?”
“For not going to you sooner, I was so scared of the whole situation, but I’m not anymore.” She quickly wiped away the tear tracks on her cheeks. “As long as you’re here, you’re going to be a great dad.”
Louis had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from becoming a weeping mess. “And you are going to be the world's best mother.” He placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, sending a warm shiver down her body.
“Violet wanted to talk to us, she wants to start making plans,” Clementine took Louis by the hand and the two began to walk outside. “And I’m going to have to tell AJ, I really don’t know what to say to him.”
“He knows where babies come from, so I’d spare him the details,” Louis wiggled his eyebrows. “We’ll tell him together, whenever you’re ready.”
The two found Violet sitting outside, staring at the odd cloud formations. She turned to the sound of the door opening, a rare smile on her face. “Okay you crazy kids, follow me,” Violet firmly grabbed them both and pulled them back inside, heading towards the office. “I was making a mental list of all the shit we’ll need, food is our primary concern. We can make clothes and blankets ourselves and our water supply is doing fine. Are you guys going to tell everyone today or wait it out?”
Louis and Clementine shared an awkward glance, for the parents of the baby they weren’t this prepared. “I don’t know, may as well tell them tonight at dinner,” Clem suggested.
“Cool, we’re going to need their help anyway,” They all gathered by the large desk as they mapped out which locations should be scavenged first. “There’s an abandoned farm a little ways past the safe zone, it could have some food.”
Louis smirked, confidence soaring through him. This baby will have the best they can get. The timing isn’t right, but as long as the world is being dominated by walkers there will never be the right time for anything. Their love was all they were both sure of. “Sounds like a start, I'll make sure we get the best for Lil’ baby Mozart!”
Violet slammed her fist on the desk as she shot a crazy stare at Clementine. “I fucking told you!”
#twdg#the walking dead dame#twdgs4#clementine twdg#the walking dead game season four#twdg louis#clouis#louisentine#fanfiction#xscullyx
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gimme some of that jo/naia that i C R A V E
This one… got out of hand…
Warning for drug use, Naia being fucking awkward, and catching feelings.
The couch isn’t really big enough for this, but Naia makes do. They’re a little too tall, so with their head resting on one arm, their legs dangle over the other. Not super comfy, but the couch came with the place and Luce had been distressed when Naia had cleaned it, so replacing it seemed like a bad idea.
And it’s okay, really, because even if their back is going to kill later, for now they’re almost boneless, relaxed. The couch is at least deep enough to hold their bulk, so they’re not in any danger of falling on the floor. Which is good, because with Jo curled up on their torso like some large, bony cat, they really don’t want to end up on the floor. This is comfortable enough, warm and lazy after a rough night.
Jo seemed to know when the nights were going to be hard anymore. In the last few months, they’d started showing up at safe houses either right after Naia got there or else sneaking in and waiting. At first, that had been something to worry about, but when Naia had dragged themself in one night last December, promptly passing out from blood loss, it had only been because Jo had been waiting that they hadn’t ended up bleeding out.
And it was, maybe, nice. To have someone waiting. To have someone worry who didn’t have the obligation of blood behind it.
The room smells like weed and chocolate, and Naia kind of digs the combination. The high doesn’t really make the ache of bruised knuckles and broken skin go away, but it takes them mentally somewhere where pain doesn’t really matter. Leonard Cohen is singing Tower of Song from their phone, and they’ve shed Spider-man’s mask and clothes, but not yet hidden themselves in their ‘day-self’.
Petting idly over Jo’s back, they can feel them breathe, slow and deep. Weed relaxed Jo really well, and cold made them sleepy to begin with, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that the little mutant was dozing. Usually prolonged contact with the little blue lizard made Naia squirmy and flighty, but being supremely high at 8AM and recovering from a night of beating a bunch of human traffickers into the ground, they were too tired to protest.
And it was getting easier, maybe. Being close to Jo.
Jo is easily the most attractive person Naia has ever worked with. They knew some people would disagree, but some people were idiots. Jo’s eyes alone were stunning enough to make them, in Naia’s opinion, drop dead gorgeous, but the total sum of parts was just… a lot. Stunning. Arresting. People tended to be put off by mutants who were visibly distinct, but Naia grew up with an extended family of “freaks” and “monsters”. Jo was pretty, there was no way around it.
They were so delicate, next to Naia’s hulking frame. And they were whip-smart, which most people didn’t give them a chance to prove. They’d studied to become a nurse, and while the school had been more than willing to take their money, not a single hospital in the city was willing to hire them. The injustice of it makes Naia mad; Naia’s never been overly burdened with intelligence, but the idea of putting the kind of work Jo had put into learning to help people heal and then be told your appearance wasn’t “conducive to a healing environment” – well, it was enough to make Naia itch for someone to punch.
Cohen gives over to The Cranberries and Jo stirs a little, nuzzling their face against Naia’s collarbone. They run cooler than most people, and Naia runs warmer, so the lips shifting in a sleepy mumble against Naia’s skin are distinct, cool and soft and dry, making Naia’s chest do something funny. They’re wearing the binder and a pair of old basketball shorts, too much skin exposed, and despite the warmth from the propane space heater, Naia shivers, torn between never wanting to move from this spot and deeply needing to wake Jo under some pretense that would put space between them again.
Luce picks that moment to jump onto the back of the couch and meow loudly down at them. Naia shushes at him, but the damage is done; even before Jo moves, Naia can feel the tension, the held breath; startled awake. Not wanting to seem too obvious about how focused they were on Jo, Naia continued petting over the softness of Jo’s shirt, feeling the knob of their spine and, faintly, the impression of the thick scales that flowed down their back.
Then Jo sits up, and Naia awkwardly drops their hands onto their own stomach, the two that have been dangling off the side of the couch flexing with nervous energy. Naia feels a ridiculous urge to push Jo back down, tell them to go back to sleep – they only have until noon to rest here and Naia is tired.
Instead they just stare up at Jo, trying not to stare at the peek of blue tongue drawn over thin lips, trying not to blush when those vibrant eyes focus on their face.
“Cat’s mad,” Jo says, and there’s a very pleasant rasp to their voice this soon after sleep. Naia knows damn well they’re blushing, knows it makes the freckles on their cheeks stand out darker. If Jo notices, they don’t say. “You forget to feed him?”
Naia has to clear their throat, but their voice is passably casual when they say, “He’s just being a brat because he wants cuddles and my lap has been monopolized.”
Something sparks in Jo’s eyes, and it looks like mischief. “My lap now,” they say, shifting to they’re straddling Naia’s waist, elbows resting on Naia’s chest so they can put their chin in their hands and grin down at Naia. For perhaps the first time since they were fifteen or so, Naia is grateful they don’t have a dick, because it would almost certainly be hard, and really, the blushing was bad enough.
“Is there any chocolate left?” Jo asks. They’d grabbed a few packages of discounted Valentine’s chocolate from the drugstore when they’d stopped in for gauze and Bactine. Naia feels a little guilty, shaking their head.
“Ate the last piece a little bit ago,” they say, looking at Luce as he settles into loaf position on the back of the couch. “Got snacky, sorry. I shoulda saved it for you.”
Jo laughs, leaning in a little, so their weight is more focused on Naia’s chest. They don’t weight all that much, but the unexpected pressure still makes Naia part their lips in a shallow gasp, like they expect their air to be cut off. “Don’t be dumb, I bought ‘em for you.”
There’s that blush again. Luce stares back at them and then blinks his big yellow eyes, squeezing them shut and starting to purr.
“Hey,” Jo says brightly, and Naia turns their head to look at them without thinking. Jo’s lips feel even softer against their own than they had against skin, and Naia feels like their heart is struggling to beat suddenly; it’s exploding and it’s standing still, useless either way. They think they should push back – had to have been an accident – and then Jo’s clawed fingers are skating along their scalp, smoothing back behind their ears, holding them.
Naia doesn’t have a whole lot of experience kissing. Hard to date when you’re hiding a whole second set of arms, and half your life. They don’t try to control it at all, but their hands move almost without permission, settling on Jo’s back and along their side. Not keeping them, just resting, and it all feels… nice. Good.
After a moment, Jo ducks away, hands tucked under them as they lay back down. They tuck their face against Naia’s neck, and Naia can feel their smile. “Was that okay,” they ask, and Naia nods just a little, not wanting to do anything that would make Jo move. “Good,” Jo says, settling in. “I was starting to think it was never gonna happen.”
And there’s probably a lot that could be said to that, probably a whole conversation that needs to happen, but Naia, well, Naia is tired. So Naia leaves their hands to stroke idly over the soft, thin material of Jo’s shirt, and they close their eyes, and they drift.
They fall asleep to the sound of Luce purring, loud and rusty, drowning out the soft music still playing on their phone. They fall asleep warm, and they fall asleep cared for, and they fall asleep a little more in love than they know how to deal with.
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