#(sorry if that is a weird thing to say. idk if you actually know who i am very well)

[sammygender]

not indirecting anyone but i keep seeing the take that sam has power over dean because dean is so attached to and dependent on him. like it’s everywhere. and its just soooo fundamentally flawed. that is not how anything works. not to sound like a broken record but that type of dynamic (where one partner, the aggressor, views themselves as in fact controlled/dictated by the whims of the other) is actually very standard in an abusive relationship…

whether or not sam has ‘power’ over dean in this way is functionally irrelevant because his ‘power’ extends to his ability to somehow, what, psychically manipulate dean into doing what he wants?? whereas dean’s ‘power’ over sam is making sure sam adheres to exactly what he’s decided sam should do and punishing him if he doesnt do that, and deciding he has ultimate control over sam’s own decisions about his life (see main plot events of s4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, so on and so forth…).

[dykedvonte]

My post about Anya is making like a little ruckus on Twitter and I think it’s crazy how many people like have a problem with it.

Like you don’t have to agree with how I characterize Anya and her actions but it’s more like, why are you focused on only one aspect of her character? Why are you removing nuance from the situation? I don’t see it as giving Curly the benefit of the doubt when it comes to doing better for Anya, but as exploring his character and hers relationship with a the very little authentic facts we get about them. In truth, there’s a lot more I wish Curly did, even if it wasn’t pragmatic but I realize the issue there.

The first psychological horror game in a while that’s real intricate in its storytelling and makes you need to really need to address the morality of intentions and its already getting torn asunder smh 😔

[ciderjacks]

Can we kill the whole “no attention on artwork is sad and means it was a waste of time” thing? Like Seriously can we kill it. I put a fuckton of effort into my art and it usually gets like, 10 likes, and that doesn’t really matter to me bc I love making it. I’m grateful for nice comments, but I’m gonna keep making the stuff I make regardless.

Like ok I’m not trying to sound all holier than thou here, but the amount of artists online who say stuff like “this artwork was a flop, so I’m feeling really discouraged” is making me go crazy. Is that all it is for you guys? Content? When you’re making artwork are you just making content for an audience? No offence but I feel like that’s a huge fucking waste of time, way more than making art you like and getting minimal attention on it.

[elegyofthemoon]

😊

[francy-sketches]

Why do people who enjoy spam liking always act so high and mighty about it ‘well I like it when someone likes all 200 of my posts bc it means they love and cherish my creations, I’m sorry you’re a cold hearted grinch and don’t have any appreciation for the common people who love your work, maybe if you stopped being such a snob 🙄’ ok bitch good for you?? I just like reading people’s comments/tags on my art and having a lot of individual like notifications clogs it up so it gets a little annoying that’s all. If spam liking makes you feel good that’s great I’m happy for you but it’s just a matter of personal preference it doesn’t make either of us morally superior lol get off your high horse

[slimyenemy]

my room is now finally almost 100% cute and clean i've been dreaming of this moment for MONTHS (⁠┛⁠✧⁠Д⁠✧⁠)⁠)⁠┛⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

[gifti3]

from a quick glance it seems like they expected mc to go to RAD until they died

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you. 

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading. 

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now. 

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?” 

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class. 

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.” 

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording. 

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards. 

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing. 

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him. 

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.” 

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval. 

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room. 

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch. 

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.” 

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth. 

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag. 

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question. 

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.” 

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got. 

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English.  “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?” 

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.” 

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.” 

And they’re silenced immediately. 

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.” 

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?” 

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.” 

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert. 

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold. 

He doesn't like it one bit. 

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area. 

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner. 

A spark. 

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself. 

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm. 

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man. 

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.” 

That scared the shit out of him. 

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape. 

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him. 

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal. 

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him. 

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it. 

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars. 

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that 

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can. 

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving. 

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it. 

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero. 

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same. 

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you. 

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you. 

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby. 

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits. 

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project. 

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises. 

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago. 

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head. 

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.” 

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch. 

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line. 

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.” 

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response. 

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.” 

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.” 

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.” 

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.” 

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.” 

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. 

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.” 

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.” 

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.” 

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right? 

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM. 

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time? 

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes? 

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again. 

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark. 

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor. 

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy. 

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims. 

Bam. 

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed. 

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back. 

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon. 

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity. 

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.  

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle. 

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop. 

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory. 

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest. 

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up. 

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds. 

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time. 

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him. 

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this. 

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop. 

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein. 

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about. 

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text. 

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it. 

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy. 

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him. 

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?” 

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.” 

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” 

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend. 

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom. 

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.” 

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?” 

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision. 

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task. 

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves. 

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more. 

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?” 

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down. 

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.” 

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?” 

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning. 

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination. 

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish. 

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end. 

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag. 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break. 

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask. 

-

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?” 

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading. 

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things. 

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?” 

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-” 

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago. 

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his. 

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice. 

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.” 

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise. 

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight. 

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.  

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings. 

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists. 

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated. 

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.” 

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back. 

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle. 

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot. 

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance. 

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump. 

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse. 

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it. 

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist. 

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him. 

You. He still needs to save you. 

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him. 

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended. 

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement. 

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists. 

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action. 

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop. 

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” 

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait. 

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go. 

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind. 

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion. 

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” 

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.” 

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.” 

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.” 

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.” 

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?” 

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you. 

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?” 

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.” 

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?” 

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.” 

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit. 

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened. 

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?” 

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.” 

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?” 

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting. 

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.” 

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear. 

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs. 

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest. 

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain. 

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities. 

Until now. 

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.” 

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.” 

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too. 

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation. 

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.  

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?” 

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms. 

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly. 

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?” 

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?” 

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki. 

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are. 

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart. 

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain. 

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue. 

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out. 

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something. 

Nothing. 

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news. 

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago. 

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that. 

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something. 

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it. 

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two. 

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant. 

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night. 

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring. 

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away. 

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive. 

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him. 

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more. 

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge. 

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him. 

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan. 

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th 

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt. 

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down. 

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard. 

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm. 

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them. 

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead. 

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!” 

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks. 

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?” 

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge. 

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more. 

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop. 

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.” 

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions. 

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds. 

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.” 

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body. 

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach. 

Do not say it’s true. 

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass. 

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you. 

“Holy shit.” 

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony. 

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit. 

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips. 

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers. 

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing. 

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?” 

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint. 

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school. 

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet. 

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.” 

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel. 

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?” 

“Jake.” 

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response. 

 “I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze. 

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you. 

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed. 

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?” 

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.” 

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head. 

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.” 

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class. 

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly. 

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt. 

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things. 

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.    

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod. 

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.” 

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore. 

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.” 

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE. 

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest. 

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug. 

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach. 

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.” 

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out. 

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is  right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago). 

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand. 

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised. 

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain. 

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze. 

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!” 

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.” 

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.” 

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you. 

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe. 

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting. 

“I thought girls liked this.” 

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose. 

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?” 

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.” 

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him. 

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man. 

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration. 

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.” 

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

[baejax-the-great]

One of the things missing in Veilguard is any sort of meaningful power struggle. By keeping to the poorer parts of the city-settings, we don't really deal with corrupt or powerful nobles. By defanging the Crows, an organization who famously has lethal squabbles between factions, they turned them into some weird, benevolent family organization. Even the assassin trying to make "evil" power plays doesn't actually manage to kill any of his targets, and his ruthless relatives? Also don't kill him in revenge. In the end, the status quo is maintained. Nothing has changed.

In Tevinter, we have the Threads, an organized crime unit who we know runs "protection" rackets on the locals and is involved in some kind of smuggling (it's Tevinter--so presumably this would involve slavery and dangerous artifacts, but it's Veilguard, so I guess not). Instead of them beefing with the Shadow Dragons, who presumably ruin some of their deals with their pesky "freeing the slaves" thing, and instead of their main issue being with any sort of law enforcement, something which doesn't exist in Veilguard beyond one singular templar who does all of jack shit the entire game, their main power struggle is with the Venatori, who are evil just to be evil.

And instead of the Veilguard siding with law enforcement or the threads and enlisting their help to, idk, unseat the corrupt head of the templars or otherwise deal with the venatori shit, the threads are highly favored by the storyline, and in the end the only real choice is to make Neve a thread or to make her... idk, the same Neve? The game calls her an "inspiration", but it's not like she's part of any organization, so we can't call her a figurehead. It's just like, see that random citizen right there? She rules. And I don't really see how that increases the power of the rule of law, because even if one good person is working within rule of law to get things done, she's not part of the system, and everyone already know the system is corrupt in Minrathous. Random citizens in fucking Ferelden know the system is corrupt in Minrathous, or they would if they weren't all dead. Neve is now just playing on hard mode to appear righteous, which, good for her, but I'm sorry, won't inspire all that many people who are still paying "protection" money to the local mafia.

(Putting Neve in charge of the Threads is an absolutely whackadoodle decision by the devs that I don't even know how to respond to. She has a single Thread contact. Presumably the Threads have a hierarchy. She has never demonstrated interest in being a smuggler. Being a detective really has no overlap with being a crime boss. Telling a group of criminals that they are all detective's helpers now is sure to go over like a lead balloon. What the fuck was that. Why did that happen.)

Maevaris and Dorian arguing came out of nowhere and lasted a fairly long time, which was interesting, but after the most recent election in the states, Maevaris's position sounds unbearably naive and trite, and this hardly counts as a power struggle as they both say they will support the other depending on what some random outsider thinks should happen. (That is soooo not a basis for a system of government. Why would Maevaris OR Dorian cede their power to Rook, someone they don't know and who doesn't matter)

The power struggle within the Wardens is also very stupid and easily solved. The First Warden is a moron. He dies (kind of). For some reason the extremely hot and competent couple who we first encounter in the middle of nowhere are next in command, so, phew. Problem solved there. A question of what the Wardens will do now that the Blights are over would have been interesting. Do they keep recruiting lest the Blight somehow reoccur and nobody remembers the Warden secrets? Or do they disband? Do they set themselves to seeking a cure and nothing else?

The closest you get to that is deciding what the griffons will do, which, again, why the fuck is Rook deciding that, but also there are 13 of them, in two or three more generations they will be dead unless a lot of mages bone up on genetics real fast.

Who is left? We have Rivain, which is just pointless in this game. I played as a Lord of Fortune, but you could drop that faction and not a single thing changes in the game. Pirates who don't loot valuable artifacts because they are elvhen? Give me a fucking break.

Same for the Mourn Watch. There is pretty much nothing going on in that region. You could excise it from the game and nothing changes in the slightest. There is not a single excuse for them not using the Eluvians to help the Veilguard earlier in the game, given just how little they have going on.

The Veiljumpers are just missed opportunities all over the place. They could have had factions debating whether to join the god of vengeance in fucking up the human civilizations as payback for, you know, everything. They could have had people joining Cyrion in thinking that a Forgotten One might be the best way to face down the gods, given they'd done it before. There could have been a HUGE cultural impact on "what do we do now that we know our gods are evil fuckfaces--what do we keep and what do we throw away," but Veilguard ain't that deep. They could have had knowledge of a super-weapon or some elvhen bullshit that would help the Veilguard fight the gods... but nah.

In DAO, your decisions not only affected the political futures of the various regions, but they decided who would help you and how. Did the dwarves have golems? Did you have templars or mages? That whole wolf thing with the Dalish that I no longer remember that well? And the Dalish deciding to help changed how they were viewed in Ferelden. The mages helping you meant the monarch would treat them favorably. It fucking mattered.

In Veilguard, the only situation remotely close to that is the dragon decision at the beginning, which was one of the fucking dumbest plot points in a video game I have ever played. It was the first thing that made me set my controller down and go... what? What the fuck? The idea that Rook, a nobody, is the only person singularly capable of driving back a dragon in the entire north is laughable. What the fuck was Dorian up to that day? How is Rook more capable than every single Crow? How is it the two companions you sent to the other city were absolutely useless? If Lucanis/Neve + two companions were unable to drive a dragon away, what makes them think Rook would be the deciding factor? What makes them blame Rook when they themselves couldn't fucking do it? Neve in particular was a big part of fucking up that ritual and releasing the gods, so why is Rook taking all the fire for this?

AND WHY IS THEIR RESPONSE TO A BLIGHT TO FIND A SINGLE DRAGON HUNTER? HEY DIPSHITS, THE DRAGON IS HUNTING YOU. YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT PART. YOU NEED AN ARMY.

But Treviso or Minrathous being spared doesn't change the global political situation at all. It would have been really interesting if it did. Tevinter hobbled? How many kingdoms would be salivating to take a bite out of their territory? With the trade princes of Antiva being absolutely fucked over by the Blight, who is taking over that trade? Who is getting rich?

Nobody, I guess, because why would Rook know or care about that, because, as previously mentioned, they are a nobody who doesn't matter and honestly shouldn't be listened to.

The stakes in this game are nothing because the bad guys are all so obviously bad that you know, as a video game player, that you are going to defeat them. Oh, the Antaam are just mindless, faceless brutes fucking up Treviso? Okay, let's kill them. Venatori again? I'm pretty sure they aren't the heroes of this game. There's no power struggle, and in the end all we've done is revert to the status quo, (except i guess Treviso is no longer occupied).

Except for the south. The south is dead. but we didn't have anything to do with that for some reason. Couldn't even be bothered to house some refugees in our safehouse that was built specifically to house refugees. The Inquisitor, who has access to the eluvians, couldn't figure out how to get other people through them or something so... sorry, every single Orlesian, Fereldan, and Marcher.

[astonmartinii]

nonsense... or is it? | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

based on this request: sooo, anyways,,, i was thinking maybe a smau where Charles is playing the guy who Milo was and this obviously breaks the internet even more and this leads to them dating ??? idk, just like a really wholesome one where she was his celebrity crush and now they're dating bc of them getting know each other more bc of the music video. sorry if this is all over the place but yeah. - @whoreks

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,200,441 others

yourusername: holla babes !!! the feather music video is heading your way fast xxx if only my real boyfriends were like my music videos ones ...

view all comments

user1: MOTHER

user2: finally music videos are back baby !!

taylorswift: you can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

yourusername: thanks to you baby

user3: oh to be able to call taylor swift baby

user4: y/n's shade is so underrated - i too wish her boyfriends were as good as her mv ones

user5: she's got such a good eye for casting why can't she do this in her actual love life

user6: okay but he's hot based off a single shoulder i'm excited

user7: you got that from a SHOULDER?

user8: he's TALL?

user9: babe y/n is like 4'2 she makes everyone look tall

user10: say what you want about the catholic church, they got the aesthetic down pat

yourbff1: so we aren't asking the mv boyf out? boring.

yourusername: we have lil things called phones? USE IT HOE

user11: charles leclerc in the likes

user12: so true of him

user13: unless he's... the guy

user14: babe he's way too short lol

user15: have yall seen the sky ad? baby aint acting any time soon

yourusername

liked by yourbff1, charles_leclerc and 1,763,550 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: OMG you guys blew the feather music video up !! i'm sure it had nothing to do with this random guy i found off the street? jokes, thank you charles for being the perf mv boyf xx

view all comments

user17: HOLY FUCKING SHIT

user18: celeb crush inception no one touch me

charles_leclerc: thank you for my music video debut, maybe you can return the favour one day?

yourusername: i'll return any favour you want

yourbff1: dial down the desperation babe

charles_leclerc: what if i want her to dial it up please?

yourbff1: do NOT encourage her

yourusername: please encourage me :)

user19: Y/N STAND UP PLEASE

user20: actually y/n is so real have yall seen that man YUM

liked by yourusername

user21: y/n is a genius for fancasting her future bf in her music video

danielricciardo: THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT? SHARL WHEN I CATCH YOU

pierregasly: and me :( i thought our friendship meant more ....

charles_leclerc: it was a secret

yourusername: he doesn't kiss and tell xoxo

alexalbon: WHAT ??????

charles_leclerc: okay we can stop joking now

yourusername: fine...

user22: the way charles was defo typing that through tears

user23: y/n make the move we believe in you

user24: believe in her? she can get anyone she wants he's gotta STEP UP

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 2,099,441 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: had a blast filming for my first ever music video, thank you y/n !!

view all comments

user25: i'm feeling a new unhealthy attachment forming

yourusername: feel free to come back any time soon

charles_leclerc: or maybe you can come to me?

yourusername: is this my paddock debut?

charles_leclerc: make sure you're wearing red and it sure can be

yourusername: let me check the wardrobe

user26: i will pass away if we get y/n at a race... in the ferrari garage ???

pierregasly: let it be known i am still angry that you didn't tell me, especially after all the weird rants i've listened to

alexalbon: me too

georgerussell63: me too

landonorris: me too

danielricciardo: me too

carlossainz55: me too

maxverstappen1: me too

charles_leclerc: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: that's what you're taking from this?

charles_leclerc: yeah why are you in my business

maxverstappen1: you make it my business you talk about her all the time

yourusername: oh really ???

charles_leclerc: HE'S A BIG FAT LIAR HE'S ALWAYS BEEN A BIG FAT LIAR ALL HIS LIFE INCLUDING WHEN I MAYBE ACCIDENTALLY PUSHED HIM IN A PUDDLE

maxverstappen1: YOU DID PUSH ME IN THAT PUDDLE

yourusername: what is going on here?

user27: poor y/n being thrown into the grid drama

user28: poor charles with the grid trying to expose him

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,334,661 others

yourusername: clearly was feeling myself this week

view all comments

user31: lol why is max here

maxverstappen1: doing my due diligence as an investigative journalist

charles_leclerc: choke.

user32: is that charles? are we in the soft launch?

user33: let's not get ahead of ourselves, we know charles doesn't dress that well

user34: consider this: girlfriend effect

user35: girlfriend effect is gonna have to do some heavy lifting when it comes to charles' wardrobe

yourbff1: you think you're so slick don't you

yourusername: maybe. maybe not?

yourbff1: you're so annoying

yourusername: annoyingly cute?

liked by charles_leclerc

yourbff1: keep your nose out of women's business leclerc

charles_leclerc: SLANDER

user36: i mean they seem to have the same sense of humour

user37: not to sound insane but they are perfect for each other and i will be passing away if they are not together

pierregasly: interesting

danielricciardo: add it to the folder

charles_leclerc: folder ???

maxverstappen1: leave us journalists be

charles_leclerc: can you even read?

yourusername: GET HER JADE

maxverstappen1: add that as well

charles_leclerc: why can't we win?

user38: what is going on in the house of commons

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2,331,663 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: i don't believe in soft launches

view all comments

user39: we been knew... but OMG PARENTS

user40: i am crying they're so hot

yourusername: hawt bf obtained

charles_leclerc: sexy gf in my inventory

yourusername: you're such a cute patootie

charles_leclerc: i cannot speak my mind or instagram will censor me

yourusername: ...oop hurry up and come back :(

charles_leclerc: about to break all US speeding laws xoxo

yourusername: not you in your charli xcx era

user41: he's with her ... in the US ... could we get y/n paddock debut in vegas ???

user42: would only be right i fear

user43: the scheduling just about makes sense before she has to go back to opening for taylor in south america

user44: now why did vegas not get in their bag and get y/n to perform at the opening ceremony?

pierregasly: way to ruin the investigation

danielricciardo: yeah we were in our sherlock holmes era

maxverstappen1: have to spoil everything don't you charles 🤨

charles_leclerc: i thought you guys wanted to know who my girlfriend is?

alexalbon: yes, but we wanted to expose it :(

yourusername: CORNY

pierregasly: oh no. he has someone on his side now

yourusername: damn right frenchie. i can hear your asshole twitching from here

pierregasly: WHAT ???

charles_leclerc: idk what that means but YEAH PIERRE TAKE THAT

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 2,114,762 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: gutted not to be on the top step but an overall great weekend in vegas. glad to have y/n by my side this weekend before she's off again to slay the stage xx

view all comments

user48: charles unironically using the word slay, the girlfriend effect knows no bounds

user49: the sky camera zooming in on y/n watching the podium

user50: i think we watched her fall in love in real time

user51: i mean look at the material... podium charles hits so different i think I FELL IN LOVE

yourusername: you're a winner to me babe

charles_leclerc: and that's all that matters

yourusername: NOPE STAY HUNGRY GET THEM POINTS AND DESTROY THE REST OF THE FIELD

charles_leclerc: okay :)

yourusername: good boy

pierregasly: never say that in public again

maxverstappen1: is this why he's blushing so much in the press conference?

charles_leclerc: NO. NO REASON

yourusername: you sure?

charles_leclerc: i am the unluckiest driver ever and am screwed over at every turn sue me if i like a lil praise

user52: charles is so real for that i also want y/n to tell me i'm doing a good job

alexalbon: enough time has passed. @yourusername can lily get some extra tickets for the eras tour

yourusername: of course. anything for my new bestie

lilymunhe: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu. charles you have amazing taste

charles_leclerc: i know :)

yourusername: i mean i got you, so who's the real winner here?

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,667,982 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & taylorswift

yourusername: my leg of the eras tour has come to an end :( this was such an insane opportunity, thank you so much taylor xx but this also means i can go annoy charlie until he has to go back to work !!

one last nonsense outro:

i met this lovely boy named charlie,

he races round the world for ferrari,

giving it to me everyday like ari

view all comments

user53: i think y/n might actually be winning in life

user54: is she referencing everyday by ariana grande which is literally just a song about having constant sex?

yourusername: yes and what about it? f1 drivers have great stamina

arthurleclerc: DELETE ASAP

yourusername: no can do baby leclerc

user55: fave outro for real

charles_leclerc: i am blushing !!

pierregasly: she just told millions of people all you do is fuck and now you're blushing ???

yourusername: i don't think mr doggy emoji is talking right now

charles_leclerc: at least y/n did it in an artful way

pierregasly: believe me i know YOU WON'T STOP SINGING IT DOWN THE PHONE YOU MENACE

yourusername: you sing my songs :) ?

carlossainz55: ALL THE TIME

yourusername: i don't like your tone mr 🤨

charles_leclerc: i am just showing my love :(

yourusername: @pierregasly @carlossainz55 you made him sad APOLOGIZE IMMEDIATELY

pierregasly: sorry?

carlossainz55: sorry i guess?

charles_leclerc: thank you :) i shall continue to sing to my heart's content

yourusername: good.

taylorswift: you were amazing !! i'll see you soon my love xx

yourusername: i'm hearing double date ??

taylorswift: i'm sure that can be arranged

charles_leclerc: OMG

user56: charles and travis are really the top tier himbo bfs and i love them for that

fin.

note: i really loved writing this so i hope this was everything you imagined and more!! i'm just getting into sabrina's music but i was a girl meets world stan so... i hope i did the nonsense outro justice xxx

[svnarin]

- so like maybe like a fic/drabble/whatever with suna when reader and him get in a fight and reader leaves to like cool down or sum- and reader gets hurt bad :3

idk man it’s cringy and wattpad coded but I like that shit 😞 feel free to decline! ((If rq is 2 weird maybe do a vulnerable moments with him))

Ty for reading ! (I dunno how to reqs I’m sorry💀)

୨୧⋆ ˚ — selfish

warnings!! angst, suna being a selfish asshole, open-ended 'cause it still ended in an unresolved argument, not proofread 😞

note! HI ANON!! this is actually my very first time taking such a request. tbh with you, i've never done that much angst and this is actually the heaviest angst i've done by far, but i hope this can satisfy your wants 😭🙏

FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

“where are you? i can’t find you in the stadium.” 

you don’t want to reply to his message. heck, you don’t even want to open the notification at all. 

it’s been three hours since the match ended and it’s been an hour since you left the stadium, and he just realized that you left just now? ridiculous. 

you stared blankly at the notification until he sent you another one just three minutes later.

“y/n where are you?” suna sent you another one. “why aren’t you reading my messages?”

you were literally about to space out from staring blankly at his messages when your phone suddenly vibrated. he’s calling you, snapping you back into reality. 

you sighed before declining his call.

“at home,” you replied to his message. “i went home early then i dozed off, sorry,” you added.

he immediately replied with, “ok ig i’ll go home now.”

you’re aware that his reply was dry, but like, that’s all? some ok ig is all he can reply? but at this point, you couldn’t even care less anymore. 

around 45 minutes later, you were lounging on the sofa when you suddenly heard the entrance to your and suna’s shared penthouse open. you already know it’s suna. he’s the only other one who knows the passcode to the penthouse after all. 

“why did you leave so early? did you even finish watching the whole match at all?” that’s the first thing he told you when he went to the lounging area. so is that really how he’ll greet you? it made you laugh dryly.

“not even a hello?”

“i asked you first.” he’s clearly pissed off. 

“why are you mad?” you stood up from the sofa, walking towards him. “i was there and i watched your whole match. i know you lost the match, but you don’t have to put your anger on me.” 

“so why did you leave after the match was over?”

“what do you mean? i literally stayed there for two more hours before i left.” it’s true. you stayed for two more hours and waited for him. and for the whole two hours, you wanted to go and still congratulate him for his performance, but you couldn’t. why? because he got swarmed by his fans, begging to take pictures with him and getting his autograph.

you tried squeezing yourself in. you loudly called for his name through the crowd, but all you saw was him taking a glance at you before returning his focus to taking pictures and signing autographs. 

“you literally looked at me when i called your name after the match, you just didn’t bother walking towards me.” 

“wait, yeah, i did see you earlier. sorry.” suna doesn’t sound sorry at all. “still, you could’ve waited for me.”

“rin, i tried waiting for you. i tried calling for your attention because i still wanted to congratulate you even if you lost, you just didn’t bother because you were too busy taking pictures and signing autographs.”

“me just only taking glances at you and not walking towards you as i was clearly,” he emphasized. “taking pictures and signing autographs is already an act of not bothering?” 

“so their attention matters more than mine?” 

“i did not say that, y/n. don’t make things complicated.” you can feel the tone of his voice getting sharper and sharper.

“then why are you making it sound like their attention matters more than mine? you don’t have to take pictures with everyone. you don’t have to sign every autograph they request. you always do this but you literally don’t have to do everything they want. they’re just your fans, they come and go.”

“wait, are you fucking jealous over the attention i gave them? when we literally live under the same roof?” suna laughed dryly, his words making your blood boil. 

“of course i’m jealous!” you snapped, shouting at him. “we live under the same roof but you’re out almost 24/7!”

“don’t you get it?! i’m a volleyball player, so what do you expect?!” suna snapped back. “are you even aware that you’re being selfish right now?”

“wait, selfish? me?” you scoffed. “can you hear yourself right now, suna?” you pointed at your ear. “so i’m the selfish one when all i did was sacrifice everything just so that i could choose you?” you pointed to his chest. “when i literally left my family, closest friends, and career on a different prefecture just so that i could live with you here in tokyo to support you on your own career? when i literally had to skip work multiple times just so that i could attend all your matches? when all i wanted in return was the unconditional love that you promised me when we were in high school?” 

the suna that you’re facing right now isn’t the suna that you knew back in high school. he changed. he changed after being a part of the volleyball national team. but despite the change, you stayed. 

choosing him over everything caused you some damage. you waited and are still waiting until those damages healed. you know it hurts, waiting for the damage to heal for so long, but you also think that if you manage to get it healed, you can consider it as good damage. so, if you will leave him midway through healing, then all the damage will be just damage. but now you know better than this. you need to stop choosing him, you need to choose you.

all the things that you’ve been wanting to tell him just spilled as if a dam burst broken. you can feel tears now streaming down your face. “so suna, let me ask you again, am i the one who’s being selfish?” 

that was the last thing you told him before picking up your purse and then walking towards the penthouse to leave. 

suna just stood on his spot, silent the whole time. realization immediately kicked in when he heard the entrance to the penthouse shut close. he couldn’t move even though he wanted to. he wanted to chase after you, kneel after you, and beg for your forgiveness but he couldn’t move. he knows he fucked up big time. he knows he’s been fucking up for years. 

𝐒𝐕𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 | repost, modification, and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited.

[starlightkun]

➺ word count: 9.9k ➺ genre: exes to lovers, second chance romance, angst with a happy ending :), some hurt/comfort, fluff, ‘we broke up but somehow keep ending up as each other’s plus-ones’ trope (is that a trope? idk) ➺ warnings: mentions of death/depictions of grief, family and interpersonal conflict ➺ author’s note: i am a 5-star general in the idgaf war on the side of gaf 🫡

“This is us now, remember? Just weddings and funerals.”

“If you need anything, call me.”

That’s what Sungchan had said, two months ago, when the two of you ended things on fairly amicable terms.

“Y/N?” It hurt to hear his voice saying your name again. With such surprise, you’d obviously woken him up at this hour on a Saturday.

“Sungchan, hey,” you winced at the awkward crack in your voice. “Did I wake you up? Sorry…”

“No, it’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, uhm, I have a-a favor to ask…”

He was silent, letting you go ahead and make your request.

“Are you busy today?” You balled your hand into a fist, digging your fingernails into your palm. “My cousin’s wedding is today and my plus-one bailed on me last minute. It’s fine if you’re busy—Actually never mind, you’re probably busy and this weird—”

“I can do it.” He cleared his throat away from the speaker, and you could hear his sheets shifting around as he sat up. “What time should I pick you up?”

“Thank you,” you said again, sitting down ahead of the ceremony.

Sungchan took the seat beside you, adjusting his suit jacket. “I was supposed to be your plus-one for this anyway, wasn’t I?”

You nodded.

He flashed you a smile. “No need to thank me then. At least not for a tenth time.”

You chuckled lightly, running your hands over the material over your knees. “Sorry. I’m still freaked from my friend canceling on me last-minute, I guess.”

“Oh, I thought you were feeling awkward because you brought me.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Well, that too, I guess.”

“So who were you bringing? That canceled?”

“Chaeyeon.”

He let out a laugh at that. “Well of course she flaked.”

“I know. She volunteered after we… After she heard I wouldn’t be bringing you anymore,” you admitted. “It’s hard telling her no.”

Music started playing then, and a hush fell over the crowd.

At the reception, you were sat at a table with some older aunties and uncles that you hadn’t seen since you were little.

“Oh, this must be Sungchan!” One of the aunties gasped in delight as soon as you introduced yourself, before you could even begin introducing Sungchan. At your surely startled look, she explained, “Your mom posts pictures all the time.”

“Right. Of course,” you nodded, struggling to think of something to say.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Sungchan greeted them all politely.

“Even taller in person,” One auntie giggled to another.

“And more handsome!” The other said back.

“Y/N, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you,” one of the uncles saved you. “What do you do now?”

“Oh, I’m getting my master’s in—” You cut yourself off upon spotting the bride and groom making their way to your table to greet everyone. You weren’t exceptionally close with this cousin, but the wedding was close enough in distance that you felt obligated to go, especially because your mother was out of town. One of you had to make an appearance.

She leant down to kiss all the older relatives’ cheeks first, then you got up to give her and her husband hugs and your congrats.

“Thank you for coming, Y/N,” she was beaming as she looked expectantly at Sungchan behind you.

“Uhm, Sooyoung, this is Sungchan,” you introduced them quietly.

“Congratulations,” he bowed to them.

“Of course!” Sooyoung hugged him as well. “You know, the older cousins had bets, we all thought it’d be you guys next! I was so worried when Y/N hadn’t posted you in a while. But I guess I was worried for nothing.”

She and her husband laughed before taking off for the next table of guests. As chatter discussing when you and Sungchan would be getting married erupted at your own table, you pretended you couldn’t hear it as you latched onto his forearm and announced loudly, “I’m thirsty, let’s get some drinks!”

Sungchan allowed himself to be yanked off into the crowd, to the drinks table on the other side of the venue. You skin was still on fire when you arrived, refusing to look at him as you instead carefully scoured the drinks options.

“Here.” He handed you a glass of your favorite drink.

“Thanks,” you huffed, gulping down half of it in one go.

The lucky couple were on the dance floor now for their first dance, and you gnawed on your bottom lip as you watched them. God, why the hell did you even bring Sungchan? So you didn’t look like a lonely loser? Was this really much better?

“Do you want to dance?” He nudged your arm, nodding to where others had joined the couple on the dance floor. An upbeat song was playing, and plenty of fun dancing was happening.

Anything to distract yourself. “Sure.”

Sungchan put your glasses back down before offering you a hand. Against your better judgment, you placed your hand atop his and let him guide you out onto the edge of the dance floor. There, he let go of your hand again and kept a polite distance between the two of you as he started getting into some rather silly dance moves. You couldn’t fight the smile on your face as you watched him flail his gangly limbs around for what you knew was your benefit.

“I forgot how bad of a dancer you are, Sungchan,” you covered your mouth as you laughed.

“Only when I’m trying to make you laugh,” he grinned back, pulling your hand down from your face.

You kept your hands down as you matched his moves, freely giggling this time. When the song changed to a slower one, you looked between him and your table uncertainly, trying to gauge if he wanted to exit the dance floor.

Sungchan looked down at you and shrugged, once again offering you a hand. And once again, against your better judgment, you placed yours atop it and let him pull you closer. You put your other hand on his shoulder as his rested on your waist. This close, you could smell his familiar expensive cologne that he only brought out for fancy events—the last time you’d smelled it was at your anniversary dinner six months ago. His warm breaths washed over your ear, and you couldn’t see much else other than his nice tie that you knew very well was his only one, which matched perfectly with your nice outfit that you were wearing (also your only one).

“I haven’t told my family either,” he murmured, not breaking the slow pace he was swaying the two of you at.

You looked up at him, feeling guilty tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He knew, of course he knew. He was smiling bittersweetly down at you.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I still haven’t told my family that we broke up yet.”

“Sorry,” you apologized hoarsely, even though he already said it was okay.

“Me too.”

You tentatively leaned your head on his chest. He didn’t stop you or tense up. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah, you too.”

That’s what you’d said back, when you’d broken up.

You hadn’t seen Sungchan since your cousin’s wedding sixteen days ago, and yes, you were absolutely counting the days. And yet it still surprised you to see his caller ID lighting up your phone screen. It didn’t surprise you so much the speed with which you picked up his call.

“Sungchan?”

There was heavy breathing on the other end, punctuated by a thin, quiet whine.

“Sungchan?!” You repeated, jumping to your feet off your couch. “Are you okay?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry…” He sniffled, and you could already imagine his tear-stained face.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you reassured him gently. “What’s going on?”

“Are you busy right now?” He asked through a sob. “I’m sorry, my grandmother’s funeral is today and—”

“I’ll be over in ten.”

“Thank you,” Sungchan mumbled into your shoulder as you hugged each other just past his front door.

“I’m sorry, Sungchan,” you whispered, squeezing him as tight as you could. “I’m so sorry.”

Sungchan had been really close to his grandmother, she was practically a third parent to him growing up. He shook in your arms now, and you continued to hold him close.

“We need to leave soon, or we’re going to be late,” he declared, finally pulling back. “Oh, God, your shirt. I’m sorry.”

You looked down at your black blouse, where there was a large pooling of tears and presumably snot as well. You waved his concerns away. “It’s okay. You get ready, I’ll take care of it.”

As Sungchan got dressed in his room, you took a damp washcloth to your top in the kitchen, cleaning it off as best you could. It was black, it’s not like you could really see much in the first place. You were waiting for him in the living room when he came back out mostly dressed, sheepishly holding out his singular nice tie to you.

“Can you help me?” He requested. “My fingers are shaking too much.”

“Of course.” You took it and he sat down on the arm of the couch. Standing in front of him, you hooked the material around the back of his neck, then looped it easily, your own fingers moving with muscle memory. Sungchan knew how to tie a tie, but you had insisted he show you how to tie one. Whenever you two went out to events together that necessitated him wearing one, you would help him put it on, then he’d help you with your necklace in return. Really, it was just an excuse to exchange kisses in between, which you refrained from doing this time.

“You should know…” Sungchan’s head was down, watching you adjust his tie. “I still haven’t told them. I’m sorry.”

You gave the tie a pat to signal that you were finished, and smiled softly at him. “It’s fine. You’ve got other things to worry about today.”

“Oh, Sungchan, Y/N,” Sungchan’s mother found you as soon as you had stepped foot in her house for the wake, kissing her son’s cheek before enveloping you in her arms.

“Hi, Mrs. Jung,” you hugged her back. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes were misty when you pulled back. She kept you close, though, fixing a stray piece of hair for you. “Sungchan said you weren’t going to be able to make it.”

“She got someone to cover for her,” Sungchan explained for you.

Mrs. Jung smiled and nodded. “Thank you, sweetheart. My mom adored you.”

“She was a wonderful woman,” you agreed fondly.

“Here, Y/N, let’s get something to drink,” Sungchan suggested, gently ushering you away from his mom with a hand on the small of your back.

You gave her hand one last squeeze before letting him guide you over to the kitchen. It was devoid of other mourners, and you silently watched him take down two glasses from the cabinet and fill them up with water.

“Do you want to go outside?” You asked as he handed you your water.

He just nodded, and you took his free hand to pull him over towards the door that you knew led to the backyard. The two of you were the only ones out here, which made sense, as it was the middle of winter, but you didn’t complain as the cold air nipped at any bare skin.

“I don’t get it,” he stated, staring out at the dry, brown grass. His words came out as white puffs in the crisp air.

“Get what?” You replied quietly.

“What I’m even supposed to be doing right now. Here,” he explained, and you watched his throat bob up and down as he swallowed thickly. “I’m sick of crying. I at least don’t want to cry for four straight hours in front of a bunch of people.”

“Why not?”

“Why don’t I want to cry for four straight hours in front of a bunch of people?” He repeated incredulously, staring at you this time.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “She’s your grandmother, you’re grieving. If that’s how you feel, like you need to cry for four straight hours… Then you should.”

He shook his head, taking a sip of his water despite the ice cubes in it. “Not here. I’ll cry for four hours later.”

“Okay.”

“Talk to me about something. Anything,” he prompted you, shuffling closer until you were shoulder-to-shoulder.

You looked away from his red eyes, telling yourself that they were watering from the cold. “Uhm, I watched this documentary about penguins the other day.”

“Penguins?”

“I fell asleep halfway through, though…”

Sungchan laughed loudly at that, keeling forward as he wiped at the tears that finally spilled over. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched him, and you didn’t even try to defend yourself. Once he had righted himself a little bit, still teary-eyed and grinning broadly, he nudged you with his elbow, “Well tell me what you remember from before you fell asleep.”

“Alright, alright…”

“Thank you again, Y/N,” Sungchan sighed as the two of you approached his front door that evening. “You’re… I owe you one.”

“Just repaying the favor.”

“Well…” He looked between you and his front door awkwardly. “Uhm, goodnight, I guess.”

“Are you actually going to cry for four hours now?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe three?”

You took a deep breath. “I know you didn’t want to cry in front of all those people, and I know we’re… but I can stay, if you want. Or not, if you need to be alone.”

“Can you?” He smiled weakly, his voice cracking. “I felt like I took up enough of your time today.”

“No, of course I can, Sungchan,” you reassured him.

He unlocked the front door and you followed him inside. His apartment hadn’t changed much, except in one major way—all the pictures of you two were missing. They hadn’t been replaced, you noted, the places they used to sit now starkly empty. You didn’t comment on that as the two of you silently made your way towards his room.

Sungchan handed you some clothing, and you took them into the bathroom to change out of your nice funeral outfit. Leaving your clothes folded on the bathroom counter, you waited for Sungchan to give you the okay that he was ready for you to emerge.

He was already sitting up against his headboard when you entered, and you sat down on the empty side of the bed, leaving some space between you two.

“I feel like shit,” he said bluntly, fingers messing with the blanket over his lap. “I wish I was at the part where I felt nothing.”

“I get that,” you agreed softly.

“I-I was supposed to—” He was cut off by a sniffle, and wiped at his cheeks as tears began streaming down. “I was supposed to see her. But I was too busy. And two days later she was gone.”

“Sungchan, you couldn’t have known.” You offered a hand out towards him in the space between you.

“Can I—”

“Yeah, whatever you need.”

He turned onto his side and shuffled around and down until he was curled up on top of your lap, head pressed into your middle. You pulled the blanket back over him, rubbing his back as more and more tears surfaced.

“I can’t believe she’s gone…” he blubbered into the oversized crewneck you were wearing. “I can’t even—can’t comprehend that I’ll never hug her again.”

“I know, Channie,” you murmured, feeling your own eyes water sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

The word had slipped out without you even thinking, and you had a split-second of panic as you kept the same rhythm of rubbing his back, hoping he wouldn’t notice. If he did, he didn’t say anything, simply nestling further into you.

“It hurts, Y/N,” he whimpered. “Everything hurts. My chest, my heart, my head from crying so fucking much.”

“Do you want me to grab you an ibuprofen for your head?”

“No, stay with me.”

“Okay, Channie.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sungchan eventually cried himself to sleep like that, and you didn’t have it in you to try to worm your way out while he was passed out. So you fell asleep there too, cradling his head close to you and with the familiar, comforting pressure of him atop you.

You were awoken by sunlight across your lids, and tried to turn over away from the windows, stopped by the immovable weight on you. You gave up with a grunt, throwing an arm over your face instead.

“Shit, sorry…” Sungchan mumbled, rolling off of you and back to the other side of the bed. “Didn’t mean to trap you here.”

You peered at him from under your arm with one eye, offering him a sleepy smile. “It’s fine. How are you feeling?”

“Head hurts. Sad. Whatever, you know. But a lot better than if you hadn’t stayed. Thank you.”

“Good, good.” You sat up and yawned. “I’ll get you something for your head.”

“Hey, I am sorry if this was weird for you…”

You gave him as casual of a shrug as you could, hoping it came across as cool and nonchalant. “We did this before we dated too, remember? Sleepovers?”

“Yeah, and I though my heart was going to give out every time,” he laughed, rubbing his face.

You chuckled, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed. “Me too.”

After breakfast, you changed back into your clothes from the wake and stopped at the front door to say goodbye to Sungchan.

“Keep in touch, okay?” You requested, getting on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “At least let me know you’re alive?”

He was quiet as you let go and dropped back down to flat feet, mouth opening and closing as he seemed to be putting his words together.

“Y/N—” Sungchan’s voice was hoarse as his hand cupped your cheek. He paused, puffy eyes searching your face. You froze, too swept away at being this close to him again, letting him tilt your chin up, leaning in as he did. As soon as his lips hesitantly ghosted over yours, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to fully seal your mouths together. His lips moved against yours so gingerly, so sweetly, you felt like you might melt.

When you finally pulled back for air, a thin string of saliva connected you two for a moment before it split. You immediately ducked your head and sighed, “Bad idea, God, Sungchan, I’m sorry.”

You weren’t even sure if you were apologizing for stopping, or letting it happen in the first place, or both.

“But you—”

“You’re not in a good place right now,” you explained ruefully, stepping back fully. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Oh.” He looked down at his feet dejectedly. “No, Y/N, don’t feel bad. You’re right, I’m sorry for doing that to you—”

“No, it’s fine, Sungchan, really. I just don’t think it’s a good time—”

“I get it. Uhm, thanks.”

“I meant it though, keep in touch. I don’t want to have to find out from Shotaro if you’re okay.”

He nodded and smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. And hey, next wedding or funeral you need a plus-one for, let me know.”

“Maybe that’s us now. Weddings and funerals,” you chuckled.

“Ha, yeah.”

Giving his forearm one last squeeze, you opened the front door. “See you at the next one, Sungchan.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Pleasepleaseplease pick up…” You muttered to your ceiling as you paced around your living room, listening to the phone ring way too many times for comfort. It went to voicemail, and you swore as it beeped through for you to leave a message. “Fuck—Uh, hey, Sungchan. If you’re listening to this within like five minutes of me calling, please call me back. Long story short, it’s a funeral. Uhm, let me know if you can come. Thanks.”

You hung up and debated immediately calling him again, just in case. Before you could click the call button, though, your screen was overtaken with an incoming call from him. You let out a breath of relief, immediately picking up.

“Oh, Sungchan, thank God,” you groaned.

“Y/N, hey, are you alright?” His voice was gentle but obviously out of breath.

“Yeah, sorry if my voicemail was freaky. I found out last-minute that my mom is making me go to the funeral for her great-uncle twice removed or something that I’ve never met. I totally get if you don’t want to come, but—”

“I’ll come. I know how they are,” he assured you. “I can be at your place in five.”

“Oh, you are a lifesaver, I love you, thank you!” You gushed, hanging up the phone.

“You’re going to be just fine, Y/N,” Sungchan reassured you, squeezing your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to the small of your back as you approached the house that your mom had given you the address to.

“I know,” you breathed out, forcing a smile as you looked up at him. “Because I’ve got you here.”

You didn’t even know whose house this was, but the front door was unlocked, and many cars were parked along the streetfront. People donned in black were milling around inside, a constant, hushed din throughout the house as soon as you entered. You looked around for your mom, needing to let her know that you’d arrived.

“Y/N!” A booming voice called out your name as you turned from the foyer into the sitting room, and you tried not to wince visually.

Spinning around to greet the middle-aged man who had said your name, you gave him a canned smile and as fleeting of a hug as you could as he already had his arms out for one. “Hi, Uncle.”

“Have you gotten even bigger since the last time I saw you?” He laughed, pinching your cheek.

You turned your head away from him uncomfortably. “That was when I was middle school, I think. I have gotten taller, yes.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Jung Sungchan, I don’t think we’ve met, sir,” Sungchan firmly put himself between you and the uncle, offering his hand out.

The older man shook it, looking Sungchan up and down with an appraising eye. “No, I don’t believe we have. I’m Y/N’s mother’s cousin. You’re…?”

“Y/N’s boyfriend,” he confirmed authoritatively.

“Ah, really?” The uncle’s eyes practically sparkled. He looked around, waving someone over. “Jooeun! Come, meet Y/N’s boyfriend!”

A woman maybe five or so years older than you joined him, draping herself over his arm, her sharp gaze on where you held onto the crook of Sungchan’s elbow. The uncle continued introductions, “Jooie, dear, this is little Y/N’s boyfriend, uh, something Jungchan—”

“Jung Sungchan,” he swiftly corrected him, flashing a polite smile to the woman as well.

Jooeun wasn’t familiar to you whatsoever, she was definitely younger than you remember the uncle’s wife being when you last saw him over a decade ago now. New wife, you surmised.

“Wow…” She nodded, not saying anything else after trailing off.

“There you are, Y/N!” The familiar voice of your mother appeared at your side, obviously flustered as she hugged you just to lean in to say through gritted teeth, “You are late, young lady.”

“Hi, Mom,” you forced a smile in return, ending the disquieting hug as soon as possible.

“Oh, Sungchan!” She threw her arms around him next, her joy genuine this time.

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N,” he robotically leaned down to hug her back. “I apologize for our tardiness, that was entirely my fault. I was late picking Y/N up and—”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waved off his apology, patting his cheek with her hand that wasn’t holding a glass of wine. “The man’s dead, he’s not going anywhere.”

Sungchan smoothly removed himself from her grasp and wrapped his arm around you again. “Of course. Thank you. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

“So sweet, as always,” she laughed fondly. Turning to the other relatives, she explained, “Sungchan is one of the few things my daughter’s done right, I swear. I don’t know why he sticks around, honestly!”

“Excuse me—ladies’ room,” you mumbled under the laughter that had erupted from the entire circle (save for Sungchan), jerking yourself out of his warm grasp and into the crowd. You could feel bile rising in your throat as you searched blindly for a bathroom.

Slamming the bathroom door shut behind you in a far corner of the house, you tilted your head back as you took deep breaths, trying to keep your tears at bay. You didn’t even know the guy who died, crying at his wake would be fucking weird. Not to mention your mom would just make another snide comment about you being sensitive as always if she saw you like this. The more you thought about it, the harder it was to hold them back.

Once you’d somewhat composed yourself again, taking a tissue to dab at the corner of your eyes, you fanned your face, convincing yourself that your eyes weren’t that red, and unlocked the door. The house was eerily quiet, however, quieter than when you’d entered the bathroom, even accounting for the isolated corner that you were in. Mourners eyed you rather obviously as you walked by, whispering among themselves. Your skin prickled uncomfortably under their gazes.

Before you arrived at the front room that you’d left everyone else at, Sungchan found you, his head easy to spot over the crowd. He caught your elbow in a gentle grasp, ushering you in the direction you had just come from.

“Let’s step outside for a second,” he murmured to you, pushing the back door open.

The chill of winter was still present in the air as snowflakes had begun falling while you were inside. He immediately slipped his suit jacket off, draping it over your shoulders.

“What’s going on?” You asked him after the door had closed behind the two of you, watching as he started pacing in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he sighed. “She’s always like that, isn’t she?”

“I’m sorry, she’s usually better in front of people, especially you; she just had too much to drink I think—”

“No, God, why are you apologizing for her being awful to you?” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “I’m sorry, I should’ve seen that sooner. It shouldn’t have had to happen right in front of my face for me to know. God, it was always right there, if I had just opened my stupid fucking eyes. I am so sorry.”

You dug your teeth out of your bottom lip, inhaling shakily. “I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to apologize for her. She should be apologizing to you. They all should.”

“No, I’m apologizing for me. I… didn’t tell the whole truth when I broke up with you. I did need space, but I didn’t tell you why.” Your tears were freezing cold as they fell down your cheeks, but you didn’t bother wiping them. Your words finally paused Sungchan’s angry pacing, and he slowed to a stop to listen to you. “Imagine the best part of you being somebody else… I didn’t want my family’s expectations to make me hate you. I needed to… figure out how I felt about myself. But after, I couldn’t even tell them that we broke up. Because I-I didn’t want to disappoint them again, make them hate me even more for taking away the only part of me they liked: you.”

“Oh, Y/N…” He breathed out, face contorting in pain. “I’m sorry, for whatever I did that made you feel like you couldn’t tell me this before.”

“You were just trying to impress your girlfriend’s family and diffuse the tension, it’s understandable,” you sniffed, dabbing at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater.

“No, I should’ve been defending you, on your side one hundred percent. I was your boyfriend, not theirs.”

“Can—” You pulled the suit jacket tighter around you as a gust of wind blew in snowflakes under the awning you were standing beneath. “I think I’d like to go home.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Sungchan nodded in the direction of the side gate for the two of you to make a stealthy exit.

The back door opened then, and you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

“Y/N! There you are!” Your mother was accompanied by the heating from inside the house continuously seeping out as she stood in the open doorway. “Brr! It’s cold. Get back in here and give Sungchan his coat back, sweetie, the poor dear has got to be freezing to death!”

“I gave it to her, and she’s keeping it,” Sungchan replied firmly, pointedly flipping up the collar of the jacket to protect your neck against the wind. “Thank the host for us, we’re leaving now.”

“Now?! But you just—”

“Now. Goodbye.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, ushering you away from her and towards the gate again.

“Y/N, I can’t believe you’re so ungrateful that you’re making Sungchan—” She had descended the short step from the house to the porch to grab your arm and try to halt your leaving.

Sungchan took her hand and removed it from your wrist, stepping in front of you and fully concealing you from her. “Apparently I wasn’t clear enough earlier. You’re the ungrateful one. You have a daughter who is kind enough to put up with your bullshit—Constantly dragging her out to places last minute and humiliating her in front of people to make yourself feel better. You should be ashamed to call yourself a parent. Honestly, I can’t believe that someone so kind, so incredibly down-to-Earth and considerate of others was raised by someone as cruel as you. So yes, we will be going, and I don’t want you to say another word to her while we do.”

He once again wrapped his arm around you, hurrying through the freshly fallen snow. Shoving the gate open, he continued marching you on down the street away from that house until the two of you were able to finally hail a taxi. Sungchan opened the door and guided you in first, and then firmly shut it behind you, giving your apartment address to the driver. He brushed the snowflakes from your hair and shoulders with rough but attentive hands, and you sat patiently as he did so. His entire face was red, and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or not, as a vein bulged out on his forehead that usually wasn’t there.

“Thank you, Sungchan,” you muttered, scooting over until your sides were pressed together, then took one of his hands, lacing your fingers with his.

He squeezed your hand tightly, patting the back of it with his other hand. “I’ll do it again. As many times as you want me to, as many times as I have to.”

At your front door, Sungchan was still holding your hand as you approached with your key in your other hand. You turned to him hopefully, “Do you want to stay for dinner? We can watch a movie or something…”

“Of course. Whatever you want, Y/N,” he agreed.

Your apartment of course didn’t have pictures of you and Sungchan, you had moved in after the two of you broke up. He’d only caught glimpses of the inside the couple times he’d picked you up for your cousin’s wedding and the funeral today since then—this was the first time he was actually entering, and looked around with interest as he followed you towards your room.

“Cute place,” he commented.

“Thanks.” You rifled through your drawers to grab a couple specific items of clothing that you knew were deep in there. “Here.”

He looked down at the pair of sweatpants and graphic t-shirt you’d handed him, arching an eyebrow at you. “I thought you’d lost these…?”

“I meant to give them back,” you insisted half-heartedly.

“Really? When?”

“When they stopped being comfy…”

He laughed, landing a large hand on your head to pat your hair affectionately. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“What do you want to watch?” You asked, putting Sungchan’s plate of food on your coffee table and picking up the remote to turn the TV on. “Oh! I saw this documentary about yokai the other day that I think you’d like!”

“Really? Did you stay awake for the whole thing this time?” Sungchan teased as you opened the app on your TV.

“No, I didn’t watch because I thought you—” You cut yourself off. “I found something else. Do you want to watch it?”

“Sounds interesting,” he said, taking a big bite of his food. “Pull it up, if you think you can stay awake.”

“You know I like to fall asleep to documentaries on purpose because the narrators’ voices are relaxing,” you huffed. As you started searching it up, something occurred to you, and you turned to Sungchan with a thoughtful frown on your face. “Hey, why were you ready for a funeral so quick anyway?”

He pushed around some of his food with his utensil, not meeting your eyes. “Mm, Taro dragged me out on this double date thing…”

“Oh.”

He shrugged, then rubbed your back, letting his hand rest there. “I’m glad I bailed. Nowhere else I’d rather be. Honest.”

You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Channie. There’s no one else I would’ve wanted with me today. Really.”

“This is us now, remember? Just weddings and funerals.”

“And the occasional sleepover,” you mused, clicking play on the documentary.

“And the occasional sleepover,” he echoed, pulling you closer and resting his head on yours.

That night, the two of you winded down after some very interesting documentaries—with you only beginning to nod off on Sungchan’s shoulder towards the end of the second one—working in quiet symbiosis to clean the dishes and tidy up. When you saw Sungchan start heading towards the couch, you felt a pull in your gut. Then, before you could think it through, the words were tumbling out of your mouth, something about how your couch was way too small for him to sleep comfortably. And after a beat of hesitation, of giving you time to backpedal if you wanted, he was following you down the hall towards your room.

The empty space between you felt insurmountable after you settled under the covers, like there was a whole ocean there instead of your duvet. You didn’t go to sleep wrapped up in Sungchan’s arms, or with your head in the crook of his neck, or with his hand gently carding through your hair like you used to. But as you closed your eyes and rolled onto your side away from him, trying to grasp at the thing that was poking out of your heart so you could finally pull it out, you at least got to go to sleep listening to his even breaths. And for right now, that meant everything.

“Do you think…” You handed Sungchan his cup of coffee in the morning, trying not to ruminate too much about how cute he looked with his bedhead. “Do you think we’ll ever…?”

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised as he slowly lifted the mug to his mouth and took a sip, then lowered it back down the counter. “Ever…?”

You pulled at the sleeves of your hoodie anxiously. “You know, get back together?”

He sighed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. “Y/N…”

“I’m sorry, that was—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he reassured you, taking another sip. “I just… Don’t you get it?”

“Get what?”

“I’m just waiting on you. To be ready, finally figure out how you feel about yourself. Until you want me back in your space again.”

“But I thought you were on a double date yesterday?”

“We hadn’t even gotten to the restaurant when you called. I didn’t know it was a date until Shotaro tried wrestling my phone from me when he saw it was you. That’s why I missed your call in the first place, by the way.”

Hot tears pricked at your eyes, but you couldn’t even pinpoint why you were crying this time. Sungchan stood up from the chair he had been sitting in at your kitchen table, crossing your kitchen in one long stride to wrap his arms around you and bring you into his chest. You buried your face in his shirt as you tried to get a handle on even a single thing you were thinking or feeling. He stroked the back of your head with a large hand, encouraging you to breathe. You wiped your eyes and looked up at Sungchan. His image wavered in your watery vision, but you could just make out that his eyes were teary, too. Your gaze flicked down to his mouth, swept up in being this close to him again, overwhelmed at how sweet he was, how perfect he was. Apparently reading your mind, he brushed some hair away from your face before leaning down to drop a fleeting kiss to your forehead.

He stepped back with a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “So that’s how you felt then.”

“I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “I’m not-I’m—”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Take all the time you need.”

[jung yusung: attached image]

You blinked several times at the text notification that had just popped up at the top of your phone screen. Then it was followed by another.

[jung yusung: We didn’t have your address, so I’m just making sure you had this]

It was a wedding invite, for Sungchan’s brother’s wedding next month. You did technically still have it on your phone calendar, leftover from when you’d saved the date way back when it was announced while you were still dating Sungchan. As far as Yusung should be concerned, to your understanding, your address should be Sungchan’s address, and he already sent your invite months ago.

You dragging Sungchan to a distant cousin’s wedding was one thing, but Sungchan and his brother were quite close, and you had also become good friends with him and his fiancée in the time that you and Sungchan dated. It just felt wrong to lie to them.

Right as you had started typing your explanation to him, another text came through.

[jung yusung: Sungchan told us yesterday that you two broke up. We want you there because you’re family either way]

You immediately called Sungchan. It rang a few times before he picked up.

“Y/N?” His tone was clearly worried.

“Hey, Sungchan,” you smiled half-heartedly despite the fact that he couldn’t see it.

“Hey,” he replied, relieved presumably at the fact that it didn’t sound like you were actively crying. You imagined that he was smiling a little bit as well. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. How about you?”

“Good. Just uh, leaving a fitting, actually.”

“For your brother’s wedding?”

“Yeah, it’s coming up fast.”

“Next month.”

“Oh, you remember.”

“Actually, Sungchan, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about—”

“I’m glad you called, I need to tell you—”

“Me first?” You requested.

“Okay.”

“Why did you tell your family that we broke up?”

“You know.” He paused. “Uhm, because we did?”

Fair. “Yeah, but why now?”

He let out a deep sigh. “Ahh… I didn’t tell them at first, because I kind of didn’t want to believe it, and then I was ashamed. That I couldn’t keep the best thing that ever happened to me. Like, you said it wasn’t my fault, and I believed you, but I felt like if I told them, it would still look like that. That I failed somehow. I just didn’t want to deal with that. But after the last funeral, that whole thing with your mom… I couldn’t keep being selfish like that. Especially with Yusung and Hyesoo’s wedding coming up, they’d be expecting you and me there as a couple. It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”

“Thanks.”

“How do you know I finally told them?”

“Yusung told me,” you admitted, biting your cheek. “That’s why I’m calling. He personally re-invited me to the wedding, even though we’re not together. I wanted to talk to you about it, though. If it’s going to be weird for you, I won’t go.”

“No, Y/N,” he immediately replied. “I know you’re friends with Yusung and Hyesoo. They miss you and want you there, too.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Weddings and funerals, right?”

“Right,” you confirmed.

“I’m going to get there early and have groomsman stuff to do, but uh, I’ll have Taro pick you up, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great.”

Today was Yusung and Hyesoo’s wedding, and you were fixing your hair for maybe the fiftieth time in the bathroom mirror when your doorbell rang, followed by a series of peppy knocks. Rushing to grab your phone and purse, you opened it to greet your friend on the other side with a breathless smile.

“Taro, hi,” you hugged him. Shotaro had been the one to introduce you and Sungchan in the first place, a mutual friend, though you knew he and Sungchan were friends for years before you ever met.

“Hey, Y/N,” Shotaro squeezed you back. “How you been?”

“Oh, good.” You shuffled out and locked your front door behind you. “How about you?”

“Same old.” He shrugged, grinned, and spun his keys around his finger. “Ready to go?”

“Yep!”

The ceremony hadn’t started yet, people were still milling around, chatting, and finding seats. Taking your seats to one side of the aisle, you anxiously smoothed over your clothes as you tried not to feel like you were intruding. Yusung had personally invited you despite everything. You were here to support your friends.

“Relax, Y/N,” Taro had apparently sensed your nerves, flashing you another smile. “You’re not the one getting married.”

“I know, I know,” you laughed, flexing your fingers in your lap to try to get out some of the nervous tension. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For anything specific, or…?”

“Taking Sungchan on that double date. Or, at least trying to.” At your friend’s skeptical look, you added, “Really, I didn’t want him to stare at a wall the whole time or something. I wanted him to keep being him.”

“I did have to trick him, he wouldn’t have said yes if he knew it was a date,” he informed you with a sigh.

“I did hear about that…”

“I don’t know your whole situation, and you don’t have to tell me. I’m sure you needed the space,” he lowered his voice and scooted in towards you as to not broadcast your conversation to every other person sitting around you. “But… Sungchan isn’t the same as before. He’s never going to be the same again. Whether or not you two get back together, he can’t just go back to how he was. And I don’t think he wants to.”

“I feel the same way,” you admitted, glancing over to where Sungchan and the other groomsmen were waiting at the end of the aisle. He caught your gaze, and his features were immediately overtaken by a big smile. You smiled and lifted your hand in a small wave back. “Loving Sungchan and being loved by him, it’s the kind of thing that changes you.”

“I didn’t take him on that date because I hate you or think that you’re not good together.”

“I didn’t think you did.” You tilted your head curiously. “So why did you?”

“Because Sungchan’s fatal flaw when it comes to you is that he wants you to be happy, no matter the detriment to him or to you.” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “From what he’s told me, I don’t think you guys should’ve even broken up in the first place. He didn’t put up a fight at all, did he?”

“No, he was really understanding.”

“Idiots. The both of you. Him, for not trying to get you to talk about it first, and you for thinking he would just be the same old Sungchan like nothing happened.” He scoffed. “I mean, do you even know him?”

You took his seemingly harsh words in stride, knowing that your usually bright and cheery friend didn’t get this upset unless he really cared. “You took him on that date, and tried to take his phone so he couldn’t pick up my phone to… force him into fighting for our relationship?”

“Giving me a bit too much credit there, maybe,” Shotaro let out a chuckle. “It’s like you said. He was stuck, waiting around for you. I wanted him to do something. Either move on, or go get you back.”

Your eyes strayed to Sungchan again, fixing his tie and adjusting the finer points of his suit. Another groomsman said something to him, to which he laughed, and you felt your heart lurch.

The ceremony was incredible. You felt yourself tearing up a little with how happy you were for your friends. They shared their first kiss, and giddily half-ran back down the aisle. The rest of the wedding party filed out after them, and you caught Sungchan’s eye again then, smiling and waving. He waved back, absolutely beaming.

At the reception, there were no assigned seats save for the wedding party’s table, so you and Shotaro ended up at a table of people you learned to be college friends of the couple. You sat through the various toasts, including Sungchan’s, and were finally left to eat and chat in peace.

“Y/N!” A hand gently rested on your shoulder, and you wiped at your mouth before turning around. It was Sungchan’s mother, and you eagerly greeted her as she bent down to hug you. “Oh, I thought that was you.”

“Hi, yes. How are you?” You accepted the hug from her husband as well.

“We’re well.” She still looked absolutely stupefied, like she couldn’t believe that you were real. “Both boys said you were coming, but still…”

“Yusung and Hyesoo invited me,” you smiled awkwardly. “Again…”

“I’m glad to see you, sweetheart,” she sighed wistfully, patting your cheek, then turned to your friend. “And you too, Taro.”

“I thought I was invisible for a second!” He huffed in feigned exasperation, standing up to give both parents hugs, making everyone laugh.

“Our third son could wait for a moment,” Mr. Jung teased back.

“Forgotten middle child as always,” he tsked and shook his head.

As they moved to chat with the other guests at your table, Shotaro nudged your arm and nodded towards the wedding party table, which was relatively vacant as many were off mingling. “Do you want to go give our congrats to the bride and groom?”

“Sure, yeah.” You nodded, accepting his hand up.

Approaching the table, you saw it disappointingly devoid of Sungchan, but still beamed at your friends as you arrived.

“Y/N! Shotaro!” Hyesoo squealed and got to her feet to wrap the both of you in tight hugs. “Hi!”

“Congrats!” You laughed and hugged her back, careful to avoid bumping the tiara/veil on her head. “How does it feel?”

“Awesome,” Yusung gushed, hugging you next once his wife had let you go. “How are you doing, Y/N?”

“I’m good, really,” you assured him. “Thank you.”

“My brother’s around here somewhere—” He got on his tiptoes to try to peer around the venue.

“Don’t worry about our problems. Today’s your wedding, seriously,” you waved him off with a laugh, trying to pull him back down to flat feet. “You don’t have to be big brother for one day.”

“Can’t, sorry. No off switch.”

You shook your head, despite your smile, “I know, I know.”

After a bit more chit chatting about their wedding—the venue, the food, Hyesoo’s dress, the decorations, a debacle with the florist—you and Shotaro excused yourself to let the next guests that were hanging around nearby have a chance to talk to the couple. It was then that Sungchan finally found the two of you, having shed his suit jacket at some point as he loosened his tie and fanned himself with his dress shirt.

“Hey, guys, are you having a good time?” He asked, clearly out of breath.

“Yeah, man, are you?” Shotaro laughed incredulously.

“You look like you’re about to have a stroke, Channie,” you pressed the back of your fingers to his pink cheek, furrowing your brow when you felt how warm he was. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him over to the drinks table. “When was the last time you drank water?”

“This morning? Maybe?” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Definitely at the rehearsal dinner. Last night.”

You grabbed a cup and filled it up from the ice-cold jug clearly label ‘water’ in a fancy cursive font. Pushing it into his hand, you said sternly, “Drink some. Now.”

He gulped down the first cup obediently, and you immediately refilled it before handing it back to him. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Was the whole building about to collapse or something?” Shotaro asked. “You looked freaked.”

“No, just felt like it,” he chuckled, taking another long swig of water. “But everything’s fine now.”

“Good, I’m glad.” You squeezed his arm.

“I’m uh—I’m going to go use the bathroom,” your friend announced loudly. “Then maybe talk to some people. For a long time.”

“Oh, really subtle, Taro,” Sungchan snorted.

“As a freight train,” you agreed, watching him click his tongue, snap his fingers at the both of you, and saunter off.

“Thank you for coming,” Sungchan said. “Really, you—It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m glad I came,” you smiled up at him, fixing his rumpled collar for him. “You looked good up there, Channie.”

“The wonders that a tailored suit will do.”

“I can’t believe that you have two suits now.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s called character development?”

You laughed, maybe harder than his joke warranted, but you couldn’t help the bubbly feeling in your chest from being back around Sungchan again. You hadn’t felt this happy since the last time you were with him.

He had a fond smile on his face as he watched you. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” You messed with your own outfit bashfully.

“If I can say that…?”

“Yes, Sungchan, you can compliment me,” you laughed, pushing on his shoulder.

He let himself be jostled a little bit as he grinned at you. “Just making sure.”

Still with a tug at the corner of your mouth, you caught his eye, and slipped your hand into his.

“It’s your brother’s wedding, and you seem stressed enough,” you breathed out hesitantly. “We obviously don’t have to talk today. But I’m ready.”

For a stomach-dropping second, he froze. Then his hand was tightening around yours and he was pulling you away from the drinks table, through the crowd, out the back door of the room, and down the halls at a dizzying pace that you could barely keep up with. You didn’t know where you were until the cool nighttime air hit your skin. Stars dotted the inky sky, and it took you a few moments after your eyes had adjusted to the darkness to realize that you were back at the courtyard where the outdoor ceremony had taken place, nothing but the arch of flowers left.

Each of you just looked at the other for a few silent moments. You gulped, the sound comically loud in your ears. You got the two of you into this mess, it was only right that you should go first.

“I-I’m so sorry, Channie,” you began, clasping his hand desperately. “I did let my family get to me, and instead of talking to you, I ran away from you. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. And…” He grabbed your other hand too. “I’m sorry I just let things pass me by. Your family treating you like that, our relationship. Me not doing anything because I didn’t want to fight… that wasn’t fair to either of us.”

“I forgive you, too,” you sniffled, feeling the tears rising up faster than you could stop them.

“So, you’re really ready to try for more than just wedding and funerals?”

“Absolutely,” you smiled and wiped at your eyes. “We can’t really attend anything hosted by my family anymore, so we need some new date ideas anyway.”

“Wait what?”

“After the last funeral, you and I are sort of banned from all future Y/L/N family events until we apologize. Per my mother,” you admitted.

Sungchan’s eyes widened. “Y/N, oh shit, I’m so—”

“Don’t. They don’t deserve an apology from either of us,” you reassured him, cupping his cheek. “I missed you so bad, Sungchan.”

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight to him as he buried his face in your neck. “God, I missed you too, baby.”

You hugged him back, feeling the painful knots that had been ensnared around your chest for months now unravel.

“Do-Do you think we should go back in?” You murmured.

“Probably…” He sighed, not loosening his grip on you. “We probably missed their first dance.”

A crack of thunder made you jump out of your skin, and you felt Sungchan startle in your arms as well. You looked up at the sky, putting a hand over your heart as you could feel your heartbeat racing, “Fuck, that scared the hell out of me.”

The words were barely out of your mouth when a drop of water hit your arm. Then another. Then it was absolutely pouring, and both you and Sungchan were soaked in seconds, before you could even head for shelter. You looked at each other is disbelief.

“Well… shit,” you sputtered out a chuckle, looking down at your drenched clothes.

“I think we’d be a slipping hazard on the dance floor at this point,” Sungchan laughed, pushing his wet hair from his face as he looked up into the rain. “Kind of feels nice, though.”

“Hm.”

You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He managed to catch you, letting out a chuckle as he stumbled back a step. The sounds of the rain hitting the stones underfoot filled your ears as he enveloped you in his warm arms. Sungchan began to sway the two of you to a simple beat, humming under his breath as he rested his cheek on your hair.

“Channie?”

“Baby?”

You looked up at him, cupping his cheek. Your eyes followed a drop of water as it ran down his nose and dripped off. Sungchan covered your palm with his before leaning down and pressing your lips together. You grabbed his tie to pull him even closer as his other hand settled on your lower back, fingertips pressing you into him.

“Shh,” Sungchan tried to quiet your laughs, before immediately giggling himself.

The rain had eventually let up, but the two of you were unfortunately still quite damp by the time you finally reentered the venue. You had wrung out what water you could to avoid dripping all over the place, but it was quite obvious where you two had been.

“You shush!” You hissed back, pinching his arm that you were holding.

“I just need to get my phone and my keys and my jacket, and your purse, and we can go,” he reiterated the plan. “I might have a couple towels in my car, so you don’t have to sit on a wet seat.”

The upbeat music had gotten louder the nearer you were to the main room, and the two of you stopped at the entrance to look around. A few other guests had already left, you could tell, and most were congregated on the dance floor, engrossed among themselves.

“Wait here,” Sungchan whispered, squeezing your hand before taking off.

You hung back at the entrance, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible and avoiding anybody’s gaze.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Hyesoo had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, unaccompanied by her husband or anybody else. She gasped as she took in your drenched appearance. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just stepped outside for a second and got stuck in the rain,” you tried to assuage her concerns. “I’m going to head out though, don’t want to drip all over the place, you know?”

“Oh, you poor thing.” She tried to usher you down the hall. “Here, we have stuff at the bridal suite. Where was Sungchan? Or Shotaro? Why did they leave you alone?”

You tried to politely decline and stay put. “It’s fine, Hyesoo, really. Thank you, but it’s late. I was going to head out soon anyway.”

A familiar laugh came from behind you, and both you and Hyesoo turned to look. It was Shotaro, toting the similarly damp Sungchan with him. Sungchan had his suit jacket, phone and keys in one hand, and in the other, which Shotaro had the wrist of, was your purse. Shotaro must have been back at your table and caught him when he went to retrieve it for you.

“Knew it,” Shotaro was still laughing. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

Hyesoo looked between you and Sungchan, her expression changing from that of worry and pity to a knowing smile. She didn’t outright laugh like your other friend, simply letting go of your elbow and stepping back next to Shotaro. “Gotcha. Thank you for coming, Y/N, Sungchan.”

“Congrats again,” you squeezed your friend’s hand. “Give Yusung my best too.”

“I will be telling Yusung. For sure,” she giggled.

“Bye, Hyesoo,” Sungchan shook his head, but nevertheless pecked his sister-in-law on the cheek. “Tell Yusung we said bye.”

“See you, Taro!” You waved to him over your shoulder as Sungchan had already started escorting you out.

“Buh-bye!” Shotaro waved back zealously.

Sungchan fetched the promised two towels from his backseat, a little rumpled, and immediately tried to use both of them to dry you off. You took one from him to run over his hair and press against the wettest part of his clothes. He put his dry suit jacket on your shoulders and opened the passenger door for you, laying the towel down on the seat. You pulled him in for one more sweet kiss before getting in.

Sungchan got in with his own towel wrapped around his waist, then started the car. He immediately cranked up the heat, which you were grateful for, rubbing at the goosebumps on your skin.

“Hey,” he called for you softly.

You immediately looked over at him, finding him already gazing at you with the most tender smile on his face as he reached for your hand to hold it over the center console.

“I missed you.”

You kissed the back of his hand. “Thank you, Channie. For not giving up on me.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me either.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

⤷ masterlist

[slimyenemy]

nothing is a joke it just looks like it because we're on tumblr

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[churipu]

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing

note. i thought of this when i saw a"rating celebrities i have met" video on tiktok, i imagined what gojo would be like as a celebrity — hence this fic. enjoy <;33 god i want to make actor! jujutsu kaisen a series so bad.

actor! gojo who first saw you during a fan meeting, and when you asked for a weird pose to do with him, he's immediately attached — like love at first sight?

actor gojo! who slips in his phone number when he was signing his picture that you asked him to sign, hoping that you, his very own fan would actually text him. because, he genuinely wants to get to know you better.

actor! gojo who receives a text from you during the night, and the first text he receives from you was a "is this a prank? if it's not, i'm going to roll on the ground and cry. if it is, i'm sorry you had to see this text." and he decided to play with you by saying it's a joke — but stopped when you actually believed in him.

actor! gojo who finds it funny that you still don't believe that the gojo satoru is texting you, so he decided to video call you to make you believe in him (you ended the call immediately and blocked his number for a bit after, only unblocking him when you got your head straight).

actor! gojo who eventually got to know you better, slipping in the time to video call you or voice call you during breaks in his busy schedule. sending you your cravings out of the blue, or even bouquets of your favorite flowers.

actor! gojo who will use his empty schedule to come and meet you — taking you out to eat or just spend the day in your home, or his apartment. even exhausted, he still wanted everything to work out with you, so he would do anything; even if most of the time, the both of you ended up napping together.

actor! gojo who sends selfies of himself or a short video of himself during his schedule so you could know what he was doing — pointing out the most unnecessary things in the video, like how he saw a cat (then taking a picture or video of the cat to send to you), or even telling you how he finished the shoot in a short amount of time, wanting you to be proud of him.

"hi! i just did a scene, and there was this really cute kitty — look, i named him tuxedo, 'cause his fur looks like a suit. isn't he cute? what do you think if i brought him home with me, i think you'd like him!" he said, panning the camera to the said cat, caressing its fur gently.

actor! gojo who checks his phone every time after a take in his shoot to see if you had replied to him, and when he sees your notification, he gets so motivated to do his shoot. and when you don't, he's pretty upset. he turns into a big baby and asks everyone in the set what it meant if someone replies late, he is so dramatic.

actor! gojo who if asked about his ideal type during interviews, mentions and describes your personality and looks. and everyone won't know that he was talking about you, he sees people talking about how specific his words are and speculates that he was seeing someone.

actor! gojo who trended on social media after that particular interview and the account who first speculated how specific his description is, and now the whole world is saying he has a secret lover or is dating backstreet.

actor! gojo who then receives a text from you asking about if he was seeing someone because of his trending name. and he decided to ask you out for good — telling you that it was you he was describing, and he would be glad if you'd go out with him.

[ you ] : you're trending omg

[ gojo satoru ] : i know :D

[ you ] : but now that i rewatched the video, it does seem like you're describing someone, who is it? 😏

[ gojo satoru ] : idk if you're nonchalant or you're just pretending not to know :/

[ you ] : ???

[ gojo satoru ] : it's you, silly. i'm describing you to the world, so now that i've said that — can i please be your boyfriend?

actor! gojo who immediately drives his way to your house when you said yes to him being your boyfriend; he had been holding back the urge to kiss you, holding you close, so when he's yours — he just has to have you close to him.

actor! gojo who was a little upset when you said you wanted to keep the relationship a secret from the world so his fans wouldn't be mad at him. but he accepted it, as long as you're comfortable.

actor! gojo who makes it clear to people on set, including his make up artist, and even director that he now has a partner; and that he's madly in love. everyone on set listens to him talk about you every single day, gojo is so lovestruck that he can't stop talking about you, telling people on set how great you are and how deeply in love he is with you.

actor! gojo who still slips in random selfies and videos of him during work so you won't overthink, he will tell you what he's about to do and with who even if you didn't ask — he didn't want to keep his partner waiting for him, he's communicative to what he's about to do so you won't worry.

actor! gojo who brings you out on a date to a fine dining restaurant one night and it turned out to be the gravest mistake ever when he finds his name trending the very next day, all for the wrong reasons.

actor! gojo who's first worry is you when he was trending. half of his "fans" were bashing the mysterious person (you) off, saying the most mean things ever, and half of his fans were happy that gojo was on a date with you, telling him how they're really happy that he's out on a date despite his busy schedule.

actor! gojo who makes sure you're alright first, telling you how you should never listen to whatever his "fans" are saying — because they're definitely not right, and they're just jealous. he tells you that he will resolve everything, so you don't have to worry about anything.

actor! gojo who clarifies, by quote retweeting a tweet that was meant to hate on you — clarifying that he's married to you (even if he's not), and that you're his partner. he EMPHASIZES on how he's not hesitating to sue anyone who delivered hate, and he's personally keeping track on the usernames of people who had made a hate towards you (he jots them down and screenshots them).

and most of these account decided to deactivate right after his open clarification. losers.

actor! gojo who then made a proper clarification by saying that he is indeed in a relationship with you and that you're his spouse (not yet), and he told the whole world how he won't hesitate to take legal actions to whoever decided to mess with him, his personal life, or you.

actor! gojo who was happy when most of his real fans supported both him and you, and tell you both how happy they are. he giggles and kicks his feet reading the comments about how you both are definitely going to last, and how you both will be the best couple ever. he screenshots them and make an album just for these comments, showing them to you to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. you were going to be fine. you both were going to be fine.

actor! gojo who was asked about you during interviews and he gets so happy and smiley that he gets to show you off in front of the camera, telling everyone how deep in love he is, and how you treat him like the best person in the world. the video went viral and people were so envious of you.

"oh, my spouse? best. person. ever. i met them during a fan meeting, yes. they were a fan of mine — i could say it was love at first sight, i look at them and i just knew i wanted to marry them."

people then began to believe that they have a chance with their own idols, most of them making this a meme, and they use gojo as one of those tiktok standards videos.

actor! gojo who still sends you selfies and videos after a long time of dating, never breaking the routine. even when he has a schedule out of the country — he still makes time for you, engaging in video calls and voice calls despite the time zones, sends you the sweetest voice mails when he can't do a call and brings you the best souvenirs ever.

actor! gojo who casually assumes that you both are married since the first time you both got caught — he bought you a ring, and just slips it on you, telling you that you're both now married. and you casually accepted, you both had your own moment, made the official marriage certificate without anyone knowing. and the next second, he just announces to the whole set who knew about his "clarification" that he's actually, for real, honestly, married to you. and he tells them his clarification wasn't just a lie to get out of the situation.

actor! gojo who posted your face for the first time in his social media after so long, and he trended again. this time, with you. the fans were so happy, he gets so happy when his fans compliments you — and he happily retweets and reposts every single thing they say about you. he's such a proud husband.

actor! gojo who mentions your name whenever he wins an award, once again telling the whole world how he wouldn't be able to make it until now without you by his side. and how he's so thankful that you're always there even during his toughest times. he has a habit of ending his award speech with a: "y/n l/n, you're the love of my life, i love you. mwah."

a fan of his made a compilation of his ending speech for you, and posted it on twitter, which of course, went viral.

actor! gojo who constantly posts you and writes about you on his social media with the cheesiest captions ever, and people were down for it. telling you how lucky you are to have a husband like him, and gojo always replies back by saying he was the lucky one.

actor! gojo who finds out you read fanfictions about him when you miss him, he pokes fun at you for it — but finds you really cute, then you both make it a routine to read fanfictions of him.

"oh, i would totally do that. how did they even come up with these? they're really good at this," gojo laughs, laying his chin on top of your shoulder as you scrolled your phone.

actor gojo! who gets so happy when you come to visit him on set, and gets so motivated because you were there real time to see him on the act. and spends his break with you, the crew on set gets so disgusted by him and posts about how gojo acts around you on social media — and the fans are finding it hilarious, they ask the crew for more information about gojo and you.

actor! gojo who definitely brings you to red carpet awards, wanting you to be there with him. asking the paparazzi to take many pictures of you so that he could save them, and they do. taking your pictures from different angles, posting them on social media so gojo could save them.

actor! gojo who refuses acts where he has to kiss another actor/ress, he didn't mind holding hands or hugging. but when it comes to locking his lips with another person who is not you — he won't do it. even when you tell him that it was fine since it was his job, gojo still refuses, and directors would go lengths as long as gojo will act for them, cutting out the kiss scenes and settling for something less intimate.

actor! gojo who sometimes get caught by paparazzi when he's on the way to visit you or when he's buying a gift for you. telling the paparazzi they shouldn't upload the pictures until a specific date when he's planning to surprise you, and the paparazzi agrees (sometimes), but when some of them uploaded the pictures right on the same day, he gets so upset that they ruined his surprise for you.

actor! gojo who protects you from shameless paparazzis, not hesitating to tell them off in front of the camera for you. because, let's all be real, most paparazzis could be a pain in the ass, they could be awful, and they could be really persistent.

"hey, back off from them. i'll fucking hurt you if you get closer, understand?" and these paparazzi will taunt him for it, but gojo could care less about them, he only cares about your safety.

"i'll ruin your fucking camera, y'piece of shit. don't you fucking dare touch my spouse, i'm serious." he mutters out, pushing away a man who had undoubtedly came rushing over, trying to get you out of the way so he could picture gojo.

actor! gojo who makes it clear that he won't tolerate people being hurting you at all. and he won't be afraid to take a risk to hurt them back for you.

actor! gojo who will sacrifice his job for you. because on camera and behind camera, all he thinks about is you.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[knavesflames]

Hello there! I was wondering if you’d write something about Arle with a fem reader who’s ovulating and is a lot friskier than normal. I’m currently ovulating and I can’t stop thinking about it. Also if you except anon name I’d like to be the 🦇 anon!

Hi!! I’m so sorry this is so late. I actually got to this around a week ago, but I realised it was only a week until it had been like a month since you requested, and I thought, well, if it’s anything like mine, then the same thing happens now too. Sorry if that’s weird idk I just feel bad for leaving it so long 😭😭 anyway, enjoy, and welcome 🦇 anon! I’m happy to have you, feel free to drop into my box more often!!

Word count: 1.2k

Contents: fem reader, ovulating reader, multiple orgasms, arlecchino is good with aftercare too

Mdni, nsft utc!

Consider Arlecchino who knows you so well, she knows your cycle. She knows when you’re ovulating, when you’re needy for her. Consider that she loves to tease you, too, pretending she doesn’t notice your glances towards her fingers, or the drawer where she keeps her absurd amount of toys, just for you. Pretends she’s unaware of the way you squirm in your seat. You already know she loves saying things with a double meaning, too, making you think of things that you shouldn’t be thinking about, not in public, at least. She can’t stop the slight smirk on her face either when she makes that motion with her ring and middle fingers, giving you flashbacks of her fingers curling inside of you.

Think about the way she won’t even touch you until you’re begging. Begging her so much you practically have tears in your eyes from how needy you are. Only then will she fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked— until you see stars. And she won’t stop until you’re begging once more, though, this time, you’ll be begging to stop. You know she will, too, once she hears you beg nicely enough or say the word you both know will stop everything immediately. She likes pushing you, yes, but never past your limits.

That seems to be how you end up here, looking up at her with your bare chest almost heaving as her blackened claws trail up your leg. “Please,” you whine, your hand pathetically grabs onto her wrist, trying to move her hand to your dripping, aching cunt. Arlecchino’s response is to click her tongue, shake her head and capture both of your wrists with her one hand before firmly pinning them above your head with a murmur of “needy girl,” her eyes boring into yours. “We go at my pace, or not at all.”

She decides you’d look stunning with her favourite black ribbon tied around your wrists. So, she does just that, tying it tightly before giving a sharp tug to make sure you can’t escape. You feel the bed dipping as she moves, and you hear the opening of the drawer. Her charred fingers dance over the huge selection of toys as she hums, purposely taking her time to tease you just a little longer. She’ll never admit it, but she’s had every single toy custom made for you, every strap with the perfect curve to hit the gummy spot inside of your pussy every time, every vibrator with the perfect setting to elicit delicious moans from your lips. Eventually, she chooses one. Or rather, two. One vibrator, your personal favourite, and her favourite strap. A crimson red that fades into the same black gradient as the one on her arms (she’s always liked to pretend it was real).

She saunters back over to you, the bed dipping once more. Her low voice, one that reminds you of velvet, whispers into your ear, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “How many do you need this time, sweet girl?” The way she says ‘need’ instead of ‘want’ reminds you that she knows you so, so well. She responds before you can find your voice. “As many as I want, I think. Don’t you?” Your head nods earnestly, your hips lifting in invitation. Arlecchino doesn’t take her red crosses for irises off of you, despite her hands moving to strap the harness onto her fully clothed body. She’s always liked to fuck you with her clothes on and you naked, the only thing she’ll ever take off is her suit jacket, and it’s only so your hands won’t scratch it to pieces.

Her fingers finally make contact with your needy clit, making you gasp. You don’t miss the way her nails have been filed on that one hand, though you know that the second you bring it up, she’ll shut it down. “Soaked for me already, hm? Good girl.” Arlecchino begins by rubbing small circles, riling you up before she eventually turns on the vibrator, the buzzing ringing through the air. Your breath speeds up immediately when you recognise the familiar sound of your favourite one, and you whimper the second it touches you. She knows it isn’t enough for you, though. Not when you’re this needy.

Gathering your wetness with the tip of the silicone strap, she glides it across your slit before slipping it between your folds. She looks at you, raising a singular arched brow as she waits for you to signal that you’re ready. The second you do, she pushes her hips forward, letting your pussy accept it with ease. Already, your back is arching, and she hasn’t even moved yet. She starts slow, almost achingly slow, with shallow thrusts that make you whisper pleading words. She shushes you with her hand over your mouth before she pulls her hips back. You think she’s stopping, until she makes eye contact with you, and with a grunt, she slams her hips back into you, hitting your g-spot and causing you to cry out. Arlecchino pulls back again, only to repeat the movement. Her grunts are like music to your ears, and you wonder if it’s turning you on more than the actual movement, the way her lips part with every grunt, her one hand over your mouth, the other one pressing your hips firmly to the bed so you’re unable to move.

She speeds up quickly, until the bed is moving with every fast and hard movement. Your sounds are muffled by the palm of her hand, but both of you know the neighbours would be hearing you should she release her grip. As you approach your first orgasm of the night, thanks to her thrusting and the vibrations on your clit, your eyes fill with tears of relief and pleasure, only for your eyes to roll back when it crashes over you. Arlecchino slows down just enough to help you through it, glancing down at the creamy ring formed around the base of the strap before she continues the pace she was originally going at. You cum again, then again, until you reach your fourth, and by this point, Arlecchino’s suit jacket is indeed, off, even though your hands are tied. You manage to give the non verbal signal, three knocks on the wood of the bed, and she immediately turns off the vibrator, releases her grip on your mouth and slows into soft thrusts until she stops completely. The strap is pulled out of you with a soft pop, her breath just as heavy as yours.

You are well and truly spent, your naked body shivering from the power of the orgasms. Her hands, uncharacteristically gentle, unties the ribbon, letting your hands free. But she doesn’t let you move yet, no. Instead, she finds your favourite pyjamas, dressing you in them with a soft kiss planted to the crown of your head. She disappears into the kitchen wordlessly before coming back with your favourite drink, settling herself on the bed and pulling you against her before passing it to you. And of course, Arlecchino whispers sweet nothings as her nails trail lazy circles across your arm. Arlecchino is a master of many things, and your favourite thing is the way she makes you feel when she’s done giving you what you need.