#FIC AFTER FIC AFTER FIC AFTER FIC WITH THIS MAN!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladsloveletters · 2 days ago

Text

BACK FOR YOU

summary: Caleb returns to find out you’re having sex with your best friend Zayne.

warnings: MDNI, 18+ content

tags: Nurse!MC, ZaynexMC, CalebxMC, FWB!Zayne, Jealous!Caleb, Love triangle trope perhaps, Caleb doesn’t die in this fic, rough sex, fingering, spitting, spanking, gagging, other filthy stuff, there’s plot in here because i enjoy context lol

word count: 6.2k

notes: not edited and read over quickly once lol just want more caleb smut in my life. also like the idea of love triangle between childhood friends.

The morning shift was almost at its peak. People flooded the hallway. Nurses at the nursing station ruffling through patient files. Doctors pagers beeping as they scurry to the next consultation. Radiologists yelling at physiotherapists to move out of the way as they haul their giant mobile X-Ray machines. In the background you can hear all the patients using their call-bells, lighting up the ceiling TV screens like Christmas Eve.

You sigh, the usual midday headache creeping up your shoulders.

And yet amidst the normal chaos of Akso General Hospital, Dr. Zayne, your childhood best friend, manages to stop in the middle of it all and smirk. ‘Have you had a break yet?’

Flicking your gloves into the bin outside the patient’s door, you turn towards Zayne who happens to be walking down the hallway. ‘I have not peed since I woke up,’ you grunt, making your way across to the busy nurses station to where an amused Zayne rests his arms upon. You let yourself rest on your side, mirroring him.

If it weren't for the many years you had known the man, you would have been fooled by his cool calm demeanor he wears so well. You scanned him. Neatly gelled hair. Freshly shaved face (he missed a spot right by his left jaw). Baby pink button down peaking through his white coat. Polished black shoes matching his pressed pants. And yet you can also note the tick of his jaw. The soft crease between his brows. The faint shadows under his eyes. Zayne was equally as tired. You chuckled, only 3 more hours until the shift ends.

‘I heard the cafeteria is now serving apple pie,’ you offer.

His dark brow quirks up, ‘Since when did you show interest in apple pie?’ he shakes his head, dark hair covering his gaze, ‘Definitely not an appropriate lunch.’

You lean further into your arm, your hand keeping your head upright. ‘I’m sure a certain Colonel would disagree.’

Zayn turned rigid. Right. Caleb.

The DAA Colonel was scheduled to return tomorrow morning. Much to your excitement, the older childhood friend couldn’t help but sense something was off. It was simple. You and Caleb would play while Zayne would watch from afar. And when the sun had set at the playground, Zayne would be the responsible one to walk you home whilst Caleb stayed and played with the other neighbourhood kids. Always measured and always cautious, the childhood dynamic between the three of you remained unchanged even with the other’s disappearance. After high school graduation, the three of you promised to stay in touch no matter what. Even if that meant for Caleb to leave Linkon to join the DAA, leaving you and Zayne behind.

You had hoped for your friend’s return. But hope can be a fickle thing.

Caleb’s eyes were fixated on the small red box. Your hands were clasped around it so tightly, your breath caught in your chest. This was a mistake. A nervous laugh bubbled through your throat as you quickly drew the box behind your back, ‘It’s a stupid present!’ you stuttered shaking your head, ‘I just saw it one day shopping with grandma and-’

His lilac gaze darkened as he quickly snatched the box out of your hands.

“Hey!’

Using his height to his advantage Caleb turns his back towards you as he quickly rips open the box again and plucks out the necklace. ‘When you come back…’ he reads, holding up the dog tag out of your reach and smiling. ‘You’re really going to miss me, Pipsqueak?’

You huff as he continues to turn away from your reach, laughing at your poor attempts of swatting the silver chain out of his large grasp. ‘It’s not my fault you chose to become a stupid pilot instead of going to med school like Zayne!’

The older boy scoffs, turning away from you once more to quickly clasp the chain around his neck. He grins as he tucks the dog tag into his school shirt. Caleb couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten at the mention of the older boy's name. It’s always the same with you. Safe. Responsible. No wonder grandma always wanted Zayne to walk you home after school instead of Caleb. Zayne, your neighbour and best friend. The older upper classmen who always had people gushing about him despite his closed off personality. Personally, it always seemed to annoy Caleb.

But he was good to you, Zayne. Caleb knew that. He saw it every time he walked you home. He saw it when Zayne would drop off boxed lunch for you early in the morning on his way to University. And he knew that he would be able to take care of you whilst he went to the DAA.

But Caleb couldn’t ignore the sting in his eyes at the thought of leaving you for several months. And that's only if things at DAA go smoothly. At worst, Caleb may be gone for a few years before he’s even allowed for a stationed break. But he must go, in order to keep you safe.

‘Why don’t you go to medical school if you admire Zayne so much?’ he teases.

You stop attempting to take off Caleb’s necklace and blink up at him. The cotton blouse of your school uniform is dampened with sweat from the summer air. A soft cool breeze threaded through the leaves of the large tree you stood under, cooling your exposed neck under your ponytail. A mix of frustration and embarrassment reddens your cheeks, ‘Maybe I will.’

Caleb stares down at you. He had gotten taller over the Summer. A whole head taller and then some. Graduation was always bittersweet, and to be honest Caleb couldn’t care less for all the other classmates waiting to give him a parting present as well. After the graduation ceremony he found himself at the back court, trying to get some air before all the other students rushed out to celebrate. He wasn’t oblivious to his popularity. He knew from the stares he would get from other girls and glares from his basketball team. But it never mattered.

All he could focus on was you, standing under the big crabapple tree, small red box in hand waiting to give you a farewell gift. His best friend, who for some reason was always a little something more to him.

Caleb bit his pride aside and took in a deep breath. He stepped forward which made you instinctively step back. The treebark was rough against your skin. Your feet planted between the thick roots of the tree. ‘Stay out of trouble Pipsqueak,’ he murmured, reaching forward. He leant forward, bracing himself with one hand against the tree. The other hand reached under his shirt, thumb pulling out the silver chain. The small apple pendant dangled above your eyeline. The engraved words on the dog tag stared down at you.

‘I’ll come back home before you know it.’

Zayne was always gentle with you.

Despite him being your senior, Zayne had never let you feel small. In fact, he was the opposite. Any chance he got, Zayne had made sure you felt confident and empowered and supported. Even through nursing school with late night studying and long days working at the convenience store to pay for school- Zayne was there to help. Handwritten flash cards. Homemade lunch boxes. He was there.

And when Caleb stopped responding to your letters and emails, Zayne was there as well.

He can admit, the younger boy was trouble. But he also saw how much he cared for you. After all, you were so excited to give him his graduation present that you decided to ask Zayne for his opinion. ‘Do you think he’ll like it?’ you bit into your nails. Zayne would try not to roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders, ‘He would be an ungrateful idiot if not.’

After all, you were always looking out for them both. Even when Zayne had questioned your motives to become a nurse, you simply responded, ‘It’s so I can help others no matter what,’ you shrugged, ‘And so I can see you often and help Caleb if he ever gets injured.’

It came so easily to you, helping others. It was the biggest thing Zayne admired about you. However it was also your biggest weakness, wearing your heart on your sleeve. His biggest worry was how easy it would be to break your heart.

And so it was Zayne’s personal mission to ensure that no one would break your heart. Because at the end of the day, you were his best friend and he was looking out for you. He would take care of you no matter what.

Which is how you ended up in the abandoned storage room at the bottom of Asko Hospital. With Zayne, taking care of you.

‘A-Ah, Zayne hurry up,’ you whine.

His kisses were more rough today. Something you noted as soon as he had pushed you through the storage room doors. He had carelessly slammed his swipecard against the door lock, pressing his mouth against your neck as he closed the door shut behind you. Peeling off his coat and swipecard, he dropped everything onto the floor one by one.

You turn around to meet his soft lips, pressing yours against them. His tongue made no mistake in entering your mouth swiftly, softly entangling with yours. He smelled of coffee and laundry detergent as he pushed you against one of the metal shelves. His large hands made work to the back of your head, one hand firm at the back of your neck as the other took off the claw clip of your ponytail. Your hair fell around your shoulders as your hands tugged at his waist.

‘Does this count as a lunch break?’

Zayne grunted, taking his glasses off and placing them on the shelf behind you as he brushed your hair over your shoulder. He hummed as he pressed open mouth kisses along your collar bone and you sighed in bliss as your head fell back. This is how it was. It was a mutual decision. Working at a busy hospital meant a lot of stress and frustration would pent up so quickly and easily. It was only logical to find an equally quick and easy release.

Whose idea it was, you cannot remember.

‘You’re so hard already,’ you sigh as your hand feels up the front of Zayne’s pants. He chuckled as he brought a hand forward to cup your breast. Through your thin scrubs he could feel your nipple pebble and harden under your bralette. ‘Could say the same for you.’

You huff and make quick work of his belt buckle and Zayne lets you as you pull down the zipper and drop his slacks around his thick thighs. You groan at the sight of the tent in his black briefs. Lifting your arms up, Zayne swiftly pulls your scrub top over your head and throws it into the corner. He smirks at the sight of your heaving chest. ‘Eager?’ he teases.

‘Whatever,’ you grumble as you tug him forward with his necktie. His mouth was on yours once again. His kisses tasted divine. Not that you had much to compare to. Your mouth only knew Zayne’s. And Caleb.

But that was neither here nor there. And where you are now, wrapped in the strong arms of your favourite doctor, was where you wanted, needed to be.

You bury the thought of anyone else and let yourself fall drunk off his kisses. Pushing your front flush against him, he moans at the contact. Indeed, he was very hard.

‘Do you think you can take an extra fifteen for your lunch break?’ you murmur, mouth getting swollen from Zayne’s tender bites.

Not bothering to respond, Zayne tugs the bottom of your scrubs down enough to expose your pink striped panties. His hand cups the front of your pussy and lets out a short breath. ‘You’re so fucking wet.’ His fingers don’t take time to slip under the soaked cotton and glide themselves over your slick. ‘Is this how you walk around all day?’ he grunts, ‘Wet and waiting for me to take you?’

Your head falls onto Zayne’s shoulder, mouth agape. Your hips buck and grind against his palm, begging for more than just his teasing fingertips.

‘If it weren’t for you walking around like that,’ he buries his nose into the crook of your neck. His hot breath fanning your ear and you shudder. ‘I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything all day,’ he confesses, ‘Do you know how dangerous that would be for me, love? I am the most respected cardiac surgeon in all of Linkon and the sight of you reduces me to nothing.’

His fingers gently caress your swollen clit, massaging them ever so slowly. You can feel yourself getting more wet, practically soaking yourself into his palm. Zayne presses his lips against the sensitive spot of your neck, ‘So fucking wet just for me.’

You whine as your hand blindly reaches for his cock. You can’t take this anymore. You needed more. And today, for no particular reason, seems to have you both riled and wanting more. ‘P-please Zayne, I-I can’t take it.’

He chuckled, his fingers gliding down and slipping inside of you. ‘You can take it,’ he reassured, ‘You can take all of me just like you have been all these months.’

Caleb was coming home tomorrow.

That was what you had told yourself over and over again since you had woken up. You thought about him in the shower. While you were attending a patient’s wound dressing. While you ate lunch after your quickie with Zayne. And even now, laying in bed your eyes bore into the ceiling. Caleb was coming home tomorrow. Your head turned to your bedside alarm and sighed. Sleep won’t come easy tonight. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

You thought of Zayne. He was different today and you couldn’t pinpoint why. It was nothing out of the ordinary for you two to have sex. In fact, you almost had it scheduled every week. It was a mutual companionship you both had expressed was purely physical and even productive. As you shed away all the stresses of work and the world, you were able to relax in the comfort of convenience in one of your oldest friends’ arms.

And yet there was something about him today that was foreign. In the way he kept you close to him. Visiting you on the ward in the middle of the shift. Asking if you had lunch even though you normally skipped it in return for finishing work early. And how he had kissed you after you had come around his cock, mouth hard and earnest against you.

Your eyes remain closed, pictures of Zayne’s hot body pressed against yours. His hands roaming every inch of your skin. You bit down on your lip. Mindlessly, you let your hands start to feel up your body. The soft silky nightgown (a humorous birthday gift from Zayne last year) falling off your shoulder and exposing one of your breasts. You let out a soft sigh as you palm and pinch at your nipples.

‘Am I interrupting something?’

Fuck.

You could have swore you were dreaming at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide open you sit up, linen pooling around your waist as your eyes directly meet Caleb’s.

Mouth agape, like a fish out of water, you stare at him. Caleb. He stood by the doorframe of your bedroom, body leaning against it as one leg crossed over the other. His arms were folded and a smirk spread across his pink lips. It took you a moment to register who was standing before you. ‘Caleb?’

If Caleb grew a head taller than you after graduation that summer, then he must have grown another foot. His shadow loomed over you. His broad shoulders stretched the thick fabric of his military jacket as he uncrossed his arms and brought his hand up in a mock salute. ‘Nice to see you too Pipsqueak,’ he sings. His violet gaze flickers to your chest and you scramble to pull the sheet up to your chest. But you were too transfixed at the sight of him.

‘So this is how you kept yourself busy while I was gone?’

Pushing off the doorframe he walks into the room slowly. The leather boots and the sound of your breathing filling the bedroom. ‘I thought you were coming back tomorrow.’

Caleb shrugged, ‘I lied.’

He walked around the bed with slow steps. As if with every stomp of his boot, another thought came to his mind. The air around you drew cold and tense. And an air of uncertainty filtered into your bedroom window.

It was late at night. And in this hour, the moonlight painted silver stripes into your room. It shone across your bedsheets and highlighted the violet gaze which never left yours. It was as if the centre of gravity had shifted. And nothing but Caleb’s gaze was holding you down in the bed. You couldn’t even cover yourself, your breast bare to him. You were frozen.

‘I wanted to surprise you. But it looks like you had other things going on.’

You didn’t understand. This was not Caleb. Your Caleb wouldn’t speak the way he is speaking right now. With this air of fear and uncertainty you swallowed down your dry throat. ‘Caleb what happened-’

He stopped at the foot of the bed abruptly and turned to you. ‘One year Pipsqueak.’ he snarled, reaching forward and gripping the edge of the bedframe. ‘I was gone for one year and you had the nerve to go and fuck Zayne? Out of all fucking people?’

You were stunned.

Caleb let out a laugh you could only decipher as mockery. ‘You even went ahead and became a nurse for him! Just like I thought you would,’ he laughed. He took off his hat and your chest heaved as you fully took in his face. Pieces of short dark locks fell above his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair. He placed his hat on your bed. The leather gloves tighten its grip against the wooden bedframe.

‘H-How did you know?’

There was no point denying it at this point. But if the man in front of you was truly Caleb, then you had to know how he came to know the secret arrangement you had with Zayne this whole time he was at the DAA.

Caleb snickered, ‘I always knew Pipsqueak.’

He pushed himself off the bedframe and made his way around to the side of the bed. There he stood over you, his shadow eclipsing the moonlight seeping from the window. In the dark, his violet eyes were shining with a sinister glint. He grinned, ‘It was just a matter of what I would do when I came home.’

You felt powerless. Your eyes couldn’t believe that Caleb was here. After a year of mourning his presence, missing him, the Caleb that returned was unrecognisable. Caleb smirked at your face. He could tell you were afraid. It excited him. It excited him even more to see how unfazed you were having your chest so exposed to him. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. ‘How long have you been fucking him?’

Your eyes narrowed, ‘I thought you knew everything, Colonel.’

Caleb quickly brought his hand under your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. He jerks your head closer to him as he leans in, ‘I want you to admit how much of a slut you are.’

‘You couldn’t even wait for me, Pipsqueak,’ he feigned sorrow, ‘You just had to jump onto the next guy that offered you cock.’

You scoffed and tried to pull away from his grasp. But Caleb held onto you tightly, his thumb pinching your chin tightly, ‘Caleb you’re hurting me-’

‘How long?’ he presses.

Your skin was on fire with the intensity of Caleb’s gaze searing into you.

‘Since I started working at Akso.’

He pulled you closer, you could smell him. Smoke and citrus. His lips were almost brushing against yours, his long lashes brushing your cheek as he turned to whisper into your ear. ‘You know you belong to me.’

You shuddered at his words and swallowed.

At this point your breasts were aching, begging to be touched. And the absolute terror Caleb reigned over you had all the more brought out the tingling sensation of your arousal.

He drew only a breath back, his grasp on your chin loosening only a fraction as his eyes stared into yours. Caleb smirked as he feels you practically lean further into his touch. ‘Well?’ he asked, cocking his head to the side in feigned interest, ‘Say it.’

A flash of confusion crosses your eyes before you blink away at his request. ‘What?’

Caleb brings a knee onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. He tilts your head up, ‘Say you belong to me.’

A silver shine catches your eyes and your lips part. There, tucked away under the collar of his fleetspace uniform, lay the familiar silver chain. Caleb watches your gaze flicker back to his, and notices the wet shine in your eyes.

When U Come Back.

‘I’m yours, Caleb,’ you choke out, tears threatening to slip against the burning of your cheeks,’I belong to you.’

His mouth crashes into yours almost violently as he pushes you back down into the bed. You land with a soft thud, his gloved hand catching the back of your head as he grasps a fist full of your hair.

A grunt escapes your lips and you gasp as Caleb slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes as good as he smells as he wedges a muscled thigh between your legs. You try to shake the thought that this man on top of you was the same sweet boy who had always played with you at school. The same boy that held your backpack when it was too heavy. The same one that would tie your shoelaces.

The loud crash of boots disappear in the background as Caleb kicks them off and turns your head to the side. He wastes no time in running his other hand up your side as he presses sloppy wet kisses down your throat. ‘You grew into such a pretty slut,’ he teased as he massaged into your side, ‘Do you wear these things every night hoping someone would find you?’

At this point your panting and Caleb chuckles at the sight. He’s proud to see such a reaction out of you. Flushed cheeks. Hair tousled and sticking to your forehead. Your lips parted and almost dry from all the airy breaths.

His nose brushes against your skin as he kisses his way down to your chest, ‘Or were you wearing this knowing I would be knocking on your door in the morning, Pipsqueak?’

Balling your fists, you held onto the sheets tightly. Cocky bastard. Your knees closed in one another, locking Caleb into place. Your eyes darted to him and you sneered, ‘Maybe I was expecting a certain doctor instead.’

The growl erupted from Caleb was carnal. You watched in a trance as he licked a stripe down the fold of your cleavage. ‘Shut the fuck up.’

Your laughter was cut short when Caleb took your breast into his mouth. He sucks roughly at your nipple, grazing at it with his teeth. He hums in approval when you let out a gutteral groan, ‘Fuck.’

His other hand lets go of your head and reaches towards your throat. In a firm grasp, he holds you down as he continues to lap at your tits. ‘That’s right baby,’ he released your nipple with a soft ‘pop’ before kissing his way to the other. He draws a circle with his tongue around the hardened bud before taking it between his teeth. ‘Your tits are so fucking perfect.’

If Zayne was gentle, then Caleb was brutal.

If Zayne was considerate, then Caleb was selfish.

If Zayne was your comfort, then Caleb was your undoing.

You were squirming and your pussy was throbbing beneath your nightgown. And, unknowing to the man hovering above you, you were completely exposed. After all you lived alone, why wear underwear around the house? Saves on laundry.

As if he can scent you, Caleb pulls himself up and cages you under him. He rips off his gloves and jacket, leaving him in his white slacks and button down. His black tie dangles in your face as he leans down. ‘I can smell how fucking wet you are Pipsqueak,’ he muses. He palms his hard cock under his pants, begging for release. But he remains measured, composed. ‘Let me fuck you and I’ll make sure you never need to touch anyone else but me again.’

His words were seeping into your bones as his deep breaths masked his self restraint. You can feel the sheets curl beneath you as he fists the linen in earnest. With heavy lids you avert your gaze, the boldness of his attitude pinning you down. ‘But Zayne is so good to me…’

It was a mistake to even think of another man whilst Caleb practically hunted you down. At the sound of another man’s name, your childhood best friend snarled as he pulled down his pants swiftly.

Holy shit.

He was huge, even in his large grasp. You watch with mouth agape as Caleb lazily fisted his cock above you. His brows furrowed and his violet glare sent shockwaves all over you. He smirked, ‘Zayne might be good to you baby…’

‘But I’m not going to hold back.’

He leant forward once more and you gasp at the hard thickness of Caleb’s cock pressing against your stomach. You groan as he teases the tip of his cock down your navel to the top of your swollen clit. The hardened bud was throbbing and aching and practically begging for any friction. Your hands hold onto the sides of his biceps, the strong corded muscles shifting under his thin shirt.

He chuckled, ‘I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to take everything I’ll give you.’

There was no question in his tone and no room for even doubt before Caleb pushed his hard cock inside you. You let out a yelp at the sheer force of him stretching inside of your pussy. Your fingernails dig into his arms deeper as you moan, ‘Holy shit.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Caleb muttered, drawing his hips back and watching the length of his cock disappear inside of you with a quick snap. The force of his weight moved your body against the bed, the sound of his pelvis meeting yours.

It wasn’t long for you to adjust to him. Your body was practically moulding beneath him, accommodating to every curve and every inch of his hard cock as Caleb begins a brutal pace. ‘Take it for me,’ he muttered, throwing his leather gloves off and finding his hands gripping onto your hips firmly.

The sound was filthy, your wet pussy slobbering all over Caleb’s length as he continuously pulls you into him. You pant and writhe beneath him, ‘Caleb it’s too much-‘

He huffed as he continued to fuck you harder, ‘No it’s not enough,’ he decided. Your eyes were watery at the overwhelming sensation of his touch. There was no time for you to even register him flipping you over to your stomach.

You whine at the sudden loss of him pulling out of you.‘See?’ he sneered, pushing you down and lifting your hips up. His large hands, calloused and rough compared to Zayne’s, kneaded into the soft flesh of your ass. Caleb hums as he palms your soft skin before delivering a loud slap onto you.

‘Ah! Caleb!’

You shudder with each delivering blow, your back arched as your moans muffle through your pillow. Your fingers gripped onto the sheets as the stinging heat of your skin continued.

You can hear the sound of buttons popping and a soft thud onto the ground as Caleb strips himself off from his clothes. Your cheeks reddened at the thought of him naked before you, dressed in nothing but a skimpy silk nightgown.

Caleb reaches for you, grabs a fistful of your hair and jerks your head up. Before you could protest, he stuffs his fingers into your mouth and shoves the black cloth of his tie into it. The sound of your surprise is muffled and gagged.

‘Now I wouldn’t have to hear you say any other name again.’

He wastes no time in pushing himself back into you. The thick head of his cock parting the soaking folds of your pussy before practically sucking him in. Caleb moans, his grip on your ass tightening as he stills inside of you. ‘Fuck,’ he laughs, ‘You’re pussy is so fucking tight.’

He snaps into you, ass in the air as his hips meet yours. You fall back into the mattress, hands bracing before you as your muffled moans fill the room.

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ Caleb asks as he pounds into you, pace relentless, ‘Your pussy was practically calling my name the minute I stepped into your apartment.’

His cock throbbed inside of you, penetrating your walls in an unforgiving manner. He was so thick and long and fuck you wanted to come so badly.

Caleb leans forward, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you up. Your back is flush against him and the hard muscles of his stomach heave behind you. He fucks up into you, the new angle giving him an even deeper access. His other hand reaches around to your bundle of nerves. ‘This clit is mine,’ he whispers in your ear. The sight of his tie balled up into your mouth turned him on so much. In fact, the sight of you completely reduced to nothing but a cock drunk slut gave him such euphoria.

‘Do you even know how much I missed you?’ he seethed, his fingertips circling your clit as he continued to pound into you. His hips jerking forward with so much intensity you were practically bouncing in the air.

You cry as Caleb’s cock presses itself into your G-spot. The massage of his thick bulbous tip grinding against you was enough to have you standing just by the edge.

Caleb slowed his pace just a fraction as if he could sense how close you were. His hands disappeared from your clit much to your protest. Pushing you off from him, Caleb flipped you back onto your back.

Pulling the gag out of your mouth, Caleb’s eyes were clouded full of lust and desire as you wet your lips. ‘I missed you,’ you return, panting and gasping for air.

Delight flickered in his eyes as Caleb pushing your thighs back towards your chest. He held your thighs there as he lined himself up to your entrance. ‘Fucking liar,’ he chuckled before spitting onto your clit. You moan and swear as the dollop of spit glides down your folds.

‘If you really missed me you would have saved yourself for me.’

He grabs his cock in a tight fist, his other hand holding you open before him. He teases the tip of his cock, covering it in the mixture of your slick and his saliva.

‘Please Caleb,’ you beg.

The sound was glorious. This was all he ever wanted. He didn’t care about anything else. All he wanted was you. And seeing you beneath him, practically a body full of lust and heat and want. It was driving him crazy. He would almost forgive you for what you have done. The betrayal you have committed.

‘Please, please-‘

Caleb fucks you like never before. He enters so smoothly before holding onto your thighs and pounding into you mercilessly. You moan his name over and over again. Caleb grunts in approval, the sight of your tits bouncing sending him over the edge.

‘Your pussy is mine,’ he declares.

You nod in a dazed state, ‘It’s yours.’

His thrusts drove deeper, bottoming out so his balls were flush against you. You let out a long whine, hands clutching onto your tits. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t think of anything else but Caleb fucking you so good. Your fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, palming and kneading your soft breasts.

‘That’s right baby,’ Caleb sighs at the sight, drinking you in. ‘Play with your tits as I fuck into you.’

His words turned you on so much. The filthy sounds of you fucking and his degrading tone left you feeling an incredible high. You knew you were close.

‘I’m going to come inside of you and you’re going to take it for me. You’re going to be a good girl for once and fucking take it.’

You nod. At this point you were agreeable to anything as long as Caleb continued to fuck you. You chew onto your bottom lip, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his cock continuously hitting that delicious spot.

‘That’s it baby,’ he moans, ‘Fuck you look so good taking my cock like that.’

Your mouth was dry as you stare into him. His foggy gaze was determined and shadowed with an almost animalistic lust. Your hands cup your breasts as you continue to bounce off him.

Fuck, he was going to come. The sight of you was too much. And at the edge of his unraveling, you leaned forward and pressed your mouth onto his. Your tongue lapped at his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into his flesh. Sucking at his lip, you moaned as his silver necklace pressed against your breast.

His kiss was hot and reckless. Losing all sense of control, you feel your own unraveling come before you. Letting out a long whine your pussy clenches around Caleb’s cock as you feel yourself coming over him. It was too much. All too much. The intense pull of your pussy and the taste of your tongue and the smell of you hair was driving Caleb closer and closer to the point of no return.

‘That’s right, come around my cock,’ he shuddered, ‘Show me how good my cock makes your pussy feel.’

His handprints were branding marks on your skin as Caleb delivers his final crushing thrusts into your pussy, claiming all that you could give to him. A wave of pleasure crashed into him as Caleb’s pace faltered. ‘Fuck!’

Hot white ropes of Caleb’s come seeps into you as he continues to fuck into your pussy. You moan his name several times, wrapping your arms around his neck. Caleb brings his arms around you, holding you above him as you grind onto his cock milking his come out of him.

‘Don’t stop fucking moving,’ he commanded, panting into your ear as you grind against him.

You moan loudly as you lazily roll your hips against him, chasing your high as your legs wrapped around his waist with Caleb sat on his knees under you. Your clit, swollen and tortured, rubs against his groin as you feel his come fill you up entirely.

Your hands run through his hair, sweaty and ruffled as you stare into his half-lidded gaze. His eyes flickered to your tongue as it sweeps over your swollen bottom lip. Caleb leans in to kiss you. This time it was more gentle, more soft. Almost tender.

You both take a moment to catch your breaths. Limbs still tangled and entwined, you remain still together in the bed. His cock was still warm inside of you. You didn’t care to move.

You sniffle at the sight of him. ‘How long are you here for?’ you whisper.

In the darkest of hour in the night, despite your loud rendezvous moments ago, your question was quiet and filled with fear and anxiety. Caleb is back. And you don’t think you could ever see him leave again.

Caleb offers you a small smile, arms wrapping around your waist again as you push back his hair from his sweaty forehead. ‘I’ll be here for as long as you need me to be, Pipsqueak,’ he teased. You grunt and slap his chest to which he burst into laughter. The tension in your shoulders lifting at the sound.

Caleb grins and a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes as he brings his hand to cup the back of your neck. Pulling you down, his forehead presses against yours.

‘I came back for you, Pipsqueak.’

Your breath hitches as you can feel Caleb’s cock growing hard again inside of you. His other hand resting on the side of your thigh, his thumb massaging soft circles into your hot skin. The fire in your chest reignites at the carnal desire growing back in his violet eyes.

‘I won’t be leaving anytime soon.’

#lads #lads smut #love and deepspace #love and deep space #lads caleb #lads zayne #lads fic #caleb x reader #zayne x reader #caleb x mc #zayne x mc #caleb smut #zayne smut #caleb fanfic

251 notes · View notes

daryltwdixon · 2 days ago

Text

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee II

part two to this fic

Summary: Joel picks you up after a long day, taking you somewhere small and familiar, where conversation flows as easily as the wine. As the night winds down and Joel insists on driving you home, neither of you are ready to say goodbye quite yet.

warnings: some plot mostly smut 18+ MDNI

notes: this fic takes place in fantasy land where pinv doesn't end up in pregnancy ok thank you have a nice day. wrap it up in real life ok? im obsessed with this pre-outbreak Joel. I feel like I read & edited this til my eyes were bleeding, please lmk if you find mistakes

The evening rush had just died down when Joel walked through the door of the coffee shop again that day, his presence filling the small space. It felt easier, more relaxed now that he’d gotten used to coming around more.

You glanced up from wiping down the counters, already feeling the exhaustion from a long shift settling into your bones.

“I thought we were meeting later?” you asked, arching a brow as you tossed the rag over your shoulder.

Joel leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed, his hazel eyes flicking over you—messy apron, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly frizzed from the long day.

“Figured I’d pick you up,” he said, ever casual. “Walk you out.”

You let out a small groan, rubbing your hands over your face. “But I smell like coffee and milk and—” you sniffed your sleeve dramatically, “—probably cleaning supplies. Real cute first date material.”

Joel smirked, one hand rubbing along his jaw. “Well, I smell like sweat and sawdust, so maybe it’ll cancel out.”

You snorted. “If you say so,”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to suffer through it together.”

That made you smile, warmth creeping up your neck despite yourself.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping a little softer. “Second date, I’ll take you somewhere fancy. But tonight, I got somewhere I think you’ll like,”

You swallowed, your heart giving a little unexpected flutter. A second date. Meaning he had plans on seeing you way more than just for one night. And damn did you like the sound of that.

“Fine,” you sighed, pretending to be more put out than you actually were as you untied your apron. “But if I smell like an espresso machine all night, that’s on you,.”

Joel just chuckled, stepping back to let you close up.

You expected him to take you to some hole-in-the-wall diner or maybe just grab a quick bite somewhere. But instead, he walked with you down the quieter streets of the small downtown, until he stopped next to a small, tucked-away Italian restaurant with a hand-painted sign and a cozy glow spilling from the windows.

It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t trying too hard—it was the kind of place people probably came to for years, passing it down like a family secret.

“You ever been here?” he asked as he held the door open.

You shook your head. “Didn’t even know it existed.”

The second you stepped inside, warmth wrapped around you—the scent of garlic and tomatoes simmering low, fresh bread baking, the low hum of conversation filling the intimate space. String lights hung loosely across the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow over the rustic wooden tables. A candle flickered at every one, pooling small halos of light between plates of pasta and glasses of deep red wine.

“You eat here a lot?” you asked him as he stepped in behind you.

Joel shook his head. “Did some work on the building a few years back. Owners fed me a few times.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Keep comin’ back when I can.”

As if on cue, an older man in a white apron emerged from the kitchen, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw Joel. He walked straight up to him, clapping him on the shoulder with a familiarity that made your brows lift.

“Miller!” the man greeted, grinning wide. He rattled something off in rapid, affectionate Italian, gesturing around the restaurant. Joel huffed out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Good to see you too, Sal,” Joel said.

Sal patted his shoulder again, his thick fingers pressing into the fabric of Joel’s shirt like he was testing its strength. "Still workin’ with that stronzo fratellino, eh?"

Joel chuckled. “You bet.”

Sal scoffed, shaking his head. “Tsk. He was never as good with his hands as you.” He turned to you with a wink. “My best man here, best muratore in town! Fixed this place up when the siding was fallin’ off my dannata walls! Quick, clean—like an artista, eh?”

Sal laughed when Joel only shook his head, a red flush creeping up his face as he looked at you apologetically.

"Sit, sit! Please, eat whatever you like! I get you wine—" Sal finally let go of Joel, waving over the hostess with an urgency like he was hosting royalty.

“You’re quite the celebrity, Joel,” you teased, glancing up at him as the two of you followed behind to your table.

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I promise I didn’t bring you here for that—the food’s just real good,”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, amused, as the hostess stopped at a cozy table by the window.

Sal came back over with a bottle of wine, winking at you before heading back toward the kitchen. “Enjoy dinner, eh?”

You watched him go, then turned back to Joel, arching a brow. “So, you’re with your hands, huh?” remembering what the man said a few minutes ago.

Joel picked up the menu and hid his face. “Don’t start.”

You bit your lip, amused, and looked down at your own menu.

The dinner itself was nice.

The kind of nice that snuck up on you, unfolding in a way that felt natural, easy, like you’d done this a dozen times before.

Joel was quiet, soft spoken, but asked a lot of questions. Not just the polite kind, but ones with weight, ones that made you pause before answering. He wanted to know how you got into coffee—if it was something you always loved, or if it just happened. What made you decide to open your own shop instead of working somewhere else. If you liked being your own boss, if it was worth the stress.

And he listened, really listened, nodding as you spoke, his hazel eyes steady on you. Every now and then, he’d ask something that made you stop and think, something no one had ever really asked before.

“You ever picture yourself doin’ anything else?” he asked at one point, twirling the stem of his wine glass between two fingers.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I never thought about it. The shop is mine. My whole world’s kind of wrapped up in it.”

Joel hummed, watching you carefully. “But it makes you happy.” It wasn’t quite a question, but more an observation.

“Yeah, yeah it does.” you answered with a smile, then tilted your head. “What about you? Do you like what you do?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, thinking. “Don’t know if anyone likes workin’,” he admitted, then nodded a thanks to the waiter as he set down your meals. “But can’t think of anythin’ else I’d be doin’. Ain’t the type to be sittin’ in a stuffy cubicle and all.”

You smirked, picking up your fork. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you’d look real nice in a suit and tie.”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head as he cut into his food. “Yeah? And what, you see me sittin’ at some fancy desk, makin’ phone calls all day?”

“I dunno,” you teased, shrugging. “Something about you in a tie just works for me.”

Joel shot you a look, amused, before taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe I’ll show up to your shop one day in one, just to surprise ya,”

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” you giggle.

The rest of dinner went by too quickly for your liking.

Joel told you about the different jobs he’d done over the years—how he liked working with his hands, how there was something satisfying about building something solid, something that would last. There was a quiet kind of pride in his voice, nothing boastful, just a man who knew the value of hard work, of making something real.

In return, you traded stories about your most memorable customers—the regulars, the weird orders like the ones who asked for 50 different flavors in one iced coffee. Joel countered with tales of difficult clients, stubborn contractors, and one particularly bad job where a homeowner swore they knew more about construction than he did.

And when Joel chuckled at a particularly funny story, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, you began to realize—God, you liked seeing him like this. Relaxed. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, he liked being here with you, too.

And before you knew it, the waiter was coming by with the check, and the night was ending far sooner than you wanted.

The evening air was warm as you stepped out of the restaurant, your cheeks still flushed from the wine and the lingering glow of good company. Sal had insisted on treating you both with large helpings of his homemade tiramisu—claiming you couldn’t leave until you were properly fed.

Joel had muttered something about not needing dessert, but you’d watched him polish off his plate without complaint.

Outside, the street was quiet, the warm light of the restaurant spilling out onto the sidewalk as the door swung shut behind you.

“That man is dangerous,” you groaned, placing a hand over your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”

Joel huffed out a small laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Could’ve said no.”

You scoffed. “And risk offending him? No way. I’d be blacklisted for life.”

Joel smirked, shaking his head before glancing around. “Where’s your car?”

You blinked up at him. “Oh, I walked.”

Joel’s brows pulled together. “You walk to work?”

“I live close by,” you shrugged.

Joel exhaled sharply, already looking like he was making up his mind, “Let me drive you—”

“Oh, no, it’s really okay—”

“I insist,” he said, and before you could argue, his hand found the small of your back.

Heat shot through you, electric despite how warm and gentle his palm was. You exhaled, smiling, and knew there was no point in arguing. Not when he was looking at you like that—stern, certain in a caring sort of way. So you didn’t fight it.

He walked beside you, his stride slow, deliberate. The night air was perfect with summer warmth and a cooling breeze, the quiet hum of the city stretching out around you, but you couldn't help the way that everything else had narrowed down to him—the sound of his boots against the pavement, the occasional brush of his hand near yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not quite touching.

He made a little conversation, but he was quieter now, more thoughtful. He asked about your family, where they were, if they ever came to visit. If you had much of a life outside of the shop or if it kept you too busy.

You answered easily, finding that with him, it was just...easy.

Joel didn’t fill the silence just to talk—he let it linger, let you breathe, let it settle into something comfortable, something that felt like it had always been there.

By the time you reached his truck, you realized just how much you liked that about him. And how much you liked him.

Joel reached for the handle, about to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

But then he hesitated. His fingers curled around the handle, but he didn’t pull. Instead, he exhaled, slow and measured, his jaw ticking as he turned to look at you.

His gaze flickered—your eyes, your mouth, then back again—just in time for you to feel it, that slow-building heat simmering between you.

“Screw it,” he muttered.

And then his hands were on you.

One at your waist, the other coming up to cradle your jaw, his rough thumb sweeping over your cheek as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of weight that sent your heart slamming into your ribs.

The breath hitched in your throat, and for a second—just a second—you forgot how to do anything but feel.

It was slow but heavy and intentional, like he’d spent all night trying to fight the urge and finally gave in. He kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. It was steady, claiming, not the kind of frantic desperation you’d expect from someone who couldn’t hold back.

No, Joel took his damn time.

His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, pulling you further into him. His hand slipped from your jaw, fingers threading into your hair, holding you exactly where he wanted as he kissed you again, his tongue venturing past your lips, sliding along yours in a way that made you turn molten.

You gasped softly, pressing closer, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, needing something to hold onto because God—he was overwhelming in the best way.

Joel groaned low in his throat, like he’d finally let himself indulge, like this was something he’d been starving for. His grip on your waist tightened, guiding you until your back hit the truck, his body bracketing yours against the cool metal, broad and solid and so damn warm.

“You gonna open the door or what?” you teased breathlessly, between kisses, your lips brushing against his.

Joel huffed, his nose dragging along your cheek. “You in some kinda hurry?” Joel’s lips ghosted along your jaw, trailing down the column of your throat, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin, each one making you melt further into him.

You let out a soft, breathy sigh, and Joel chuckled low against your neck, his breath hot. “Didn’t answer my question.”

You barely remembered what he asked. Your brain was fogged, drowning in the way he felt against you, the way his body crowded yours against the truck, solid and warm.

“No,” you managed, voice breathless. “No hurry.”

“Good to hear,” Joel muttered.

And then, in one fluid motion, he scooted you over, swung the door open, and hooked an arm around your waist—lifting you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. A startled gasp left your lips as he set you down onto the worn leather seat of his truck before you could even process the shift.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before Joel climbed in after you, the door shutting with a heavy thunk, sealing you both inside. The space between you was nonexistent—all heat, all him, his presence pressing into you, crowding you in the best way.

You thanked whatever lucky stars you had that it was dark, that Joel’s truck had tinted windows, because none of it would’ve stopped you anyway. Not when you were already leaning back into him, your fingers trailing up, brushing over the scruff along his jaw.

Joel’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling, anchoring himself as he kissed you deeper, tilting his head to taste you fully. His other hand found your jaw, rough fingertips dragging over your skin, tilting your face toward him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

You sighed against his mouth, pressing closer, nails scratching lightly against the denim of his jeans. He groaned, low and deep, swallowing the sound. Then, suddenly, his grip shifted, strong hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you forward until you were straddling his lap.

A breath hitched in your throat, hands bracing against his broad chest as your knees pressed into the seat on either side of him. The new position had you flush against him, heat radiating between you, the space inside the truck growing impossibly small.

Joel’s eyes flickered up to yours, searching, giving you a chance to stop this before it went any further.

But you didn’t want to stop. So you kissed him again. Deeper. Hungrier.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs, rough palms trailing over denim now, gripping just enough to make your breath catch. His mouth was hot, insistent, kissing you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way you sighed his name when he tilted his head to deepen it.

“I don’t usually—” you began, panting as you broke from the kiss for just a moment, lips still brushing his. “I don’t usually do this on a first date, just so you know.”

“Me neither,” Joel muttered quickly, voice rough, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers laced through your hair, tangling at the base of your neck as he pulled you closer, like the space between you was too much to bear.

His other hand trailed down, squeezing at your waist before gripping the waistband of your jeans. His fingers dipped just under the fabric, teasing, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Think you can get these off for me, sweetheart?” he rasped, his voice thick with want.

Your breath caught, “H-here?”

Joel huffed, smirking just a little, his thumb brushing back and forth over the waistband, slow and teasing. “Ain’t nobody around. Just us.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady, certain. “Unless you really wanna stop.”

He was giving you another chance to pull away, to tell him no, and you knew if you said the word, he’d back off immediately.

But hell no. You shook your head, breathless. “No. No stopping.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, approval flashing in his darkened gaze. “That’s my girl.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the button of your jeans, fumbling slightly. Joel exhaled a soft chuckle, amused but patient, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat as his hands ran up and down your thighs, steadying you.

You finally got the zipper down, lifting your hips slightly as you started pushing them down, but Joel’s hands took over, firm and unhurried, hooking his fingers under the waistband and dragging them down your legs in one slow, smooth motion.

The second the denim was gone, his hands ran back up your bare thighs, gripping at the flesh of your ass, his gaze locked on you like he needed to commit this to memory.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked, pupils blown wide as he devoured you with his eyes. “Knew you had a great ass—couldn’t stop starin’ at it this mornin’.”

A flush spread through your body at his words, pooling low in your belly, but you could barely focus, too wrapped up in him, in the way he felt beneath you. Despite his claim earlier that he smelled like sweat and sawdust, you thought he smelled addicting—pure masculine heat, sweat and musk, with the faintest hint of whatever cologne or deodorant still clung to his skin. It was him, and it made you dizzy.

Heat curled low in your belly, especially when he tugged you down against him, pressing you right where you needed him, letting you feel all of him—hard, thick, pressing into the thin barrier of your panties.

A quiet moan slipped from your lips, and that sound did something to him.

“Oh, you make the sweetest little noises, baby,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he rocked you against him, his hands guiding your hips so you could feel just how much he wanted you.

His lips found your neck again, kissing, nipping, working their way lower, and you whimpered when they reached your shoulder, his fingers toying with the hem of your top.

“Think I wanna see more of you,” Joel muttered, voice thick and rough like gravel. His hands dragged up your sides, thumbs skimming the curve of your ribs. “Lift your arms for me.”

And you did—because you wanted more too. Needed it.

Joel peeled your top off slowly, taking his time, hissing when your bare skin was revealed beneath the dim light filtering through the truck’s fogged windows. His hands ghosted over you, calloused fingertips brushing along your collarbone, down to the tops of your breasts, his eyes dark as they devoured you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his rough fingers slipping beneath the band of your bra, teasing. You squirmed in his lap, eager, desperate for something, arching into his touch.

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, his lips curling as his fingers came up to pull the cups of your bra down and began palming your breasts in both hands, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

“That feel good, baby?” he rasped, watching your reaction as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, circling, teasing.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Joel smirked, then pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers. You moaned, head tipping back, arching into his hands.

“That’s it,” he murmured, leaning in, dragging his lips down the exposed column of your throat, over your collarbone. Then he licked along the swell of your breast before finally closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking slow and deep.

You gasped, gripping his hair, your hips instinctively grinding down against him. The friction sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly, the hard line of him pressing right against you.

Joel groaned against your skin, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before switching to the other, giving it the same slow, torturous attention.

“Joel,” you whimpered, rolling your hips against him again, the need in you growing unbearable.

He hummed, his hands sliding down, gripping your ass, grinding you down harder against him, “You’re so needy, baby,” he muttered, his lips ghosting along your jaw. “Bet you’re already drippin’ for me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, panting, whimpering, grinding against him, desperate for more.

Joel’s hand slipped between you, his fingers slipping to cup your covered mound, feeling the dampness that had seeped through the fabric. He sucked in air through his teeth as his fingers pressed firmly, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby. This all for me?” he teased, “Huh?”

You gasped when his fingers would press and sometimes skim along your bare skin, running along the lace, teasing, pressing just enough to make your thighs shake.

“Please,” you breathed, writhing against him, desperate for more.

Joel hummed approvingly, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers spreading through your slick folds, teasing your clit before dipping lower, barely pushing inside.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Takin’ my fingers so easy.”

You moaned, body shuddering as he continued to rub gentle circles around your clit before finally pushing two fingers inside, stretching you just enough to make your breath catch in your lungs. Joel groaned, watching you, drinking in every sound, every gasp, his fingers working slow and deep, curling just right to have your whole body shaking.

Your hips rocked into his hand, grinding against the heel of his palm, pleasure building fast, coiling tight in your belly. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles that had your legs trembling around his hips.

“You gonna come for me, already, sweetheart?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Come on my fingers before I fuck you?”

You gasped, “Yes, yes–” your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body locking up as the coil snapped in your belly, pleasure ripping through you in waves as you cried out, coming hard against his hand.

Joel groaned, his head falling forward to kiss your sweaty skin, feeling the way you pulsed around his fingers, his cock twitching hard beneath you.

“That’s my girl,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, slick and shining in the dim light. You stopped breathing as he brought them to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reaction as he licked them clean, his tongue dragging slow over his fingers. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, like he was ruined by the taste of you.

Once he licked his fingers clean, he brought them to your lips and rasped, “Open,”

A wicked smile crossed your lips as you parted them obediently, letting him slide his fingers onto your tongue. Joel groaned low in his throat, watching you intently, his pupils blown wide as your lips closed around his digits.

You didn’t just take them—you sucked, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue teasing along his fingertips, slow and deliberate.

Joel’s smirk fell as his whole body tensed beneath you, muscles going taut as his free hand dug into your hip, hard, like he was barely hanging on. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, and suddenly, his slick fingers left your mouth, his hand moving to your throat—firm but careful—pulling you down to him, kissing you again. It was hungry, needy, open and wet, all tongue and heat, like he had to taste you again, like the last few minutes of teasing had finally broken something in him.

You moaned against his mouth, shifting in his lap, feeling the thick, solid length of him pressing right where you needed it most. Joel hissed at the friction, his fingers tightening on your waist. Then his hands moved, gripping your hips, holding you there as he worked open his belt, the soft clink of metal making your stomach tighten. The zipper came next, slow and deliberate, the sound loud in the thick silence between you. You watched as he freed himself, his thick cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and dangerous, his jaw tight with restraint, “Still want this baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, kissing his face, his neck, nipping and biting at his throat as his hands worked himself. You lifted yourself up to give him better access to you. “Want you so badly, Joel.”

He grunted at the sound of his name on your lips, so low and wrecked and needy for him. Reaching down, he hooked his fingers beneath the soaked fabric of your panties, dragging them to the side. His other hand gripped his cock, dragging the tip through your slick pussy, teasing, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

“Joel—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint, positioning himself right at your entrance. “Go on. Take what you need.”

You didn’t hesitate, sinking down onto him slowly, gasping as he stretched you, filling you inch by inch until he was seated deep inside you.

Joel’s head fell back against the headrest, his hands flying to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there.

“Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his thighs tensing beneath you as he held himself still. “You’re—fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight,"

You moaned, feeling every inch of him pulsing inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he rocked his hips up into you, and your head snapped up at the force, making you look up just in time to see a familiar face out the back window.

“Oh shit—Tommy.”

Joel’s entire body went rigid, “Please do not tell me you just—“

“No—Tommy,” you hissed, ducking down as far as you could, but it only added more friction, making Joel’s cock pulse inside you.

He grunted sharply, his fingers digging in harder to steady you, his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react to the way you just squeezed around him.

Then, a truck door slammed shut.

“Hey, ain’t this Joel’s?” Tommy’s voice rang out, just outside, “Thought he left hours ago,”

Joel’s eyes snapped open, wild and alert. In an instant, his arm shot out, slamming the lock button with a sharp click.

Your heart raced, your hands scrambling to tug your shirt back over your head as Joel shifted beneath you, one hand still firm on your waist, the other reaching toward the door controls.

“Is he in there?” Tommy muttered to himself. The sound of boots crunching against gravel got closer.

Joel rolled down the window—but only a few inches, just enough for Tommy to see his face and nothing else.

Joel’s expression was thunderous. “The fuck do you want?”

Tommy’s brows raised. “Damn, hello to you too,” he muttered, squinting between the tinted glass. “I been callin’ you. You never got back to the landscaper—”

Tommy blinked. His brows lifted slightly.

“Well, hell,” he said, smirking. “That the coffee shop girl?”

You, still catching your breath, gave a little nod, “Hey Tommy,”

Tommy grinned. “Joel never shuts up about your coffee.”

Joel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Tommy’s smirk widened, shifting his weight onto one hip, arms crossed over his chest. “Well, you guys comin’ or what? Bout to head down to Jameson’s Bar down the street with some of the guys.”

The good thing was—from Tommy’s point of view—it probably just looked like a hot and heavy makeout session in the truck. He couldn’t see that Joel was, in fact, inside you. Your eyes flicked up to Joel’s face, still locked in frustration, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged. And just because you could, just because you had to—you rocked your hips just a little. Joel choked on his own breath, his whole body seizing, his hands flying to your waist in warning. His eyes darted to you in a look that might kill you if you didn’t feel the betraying feeling of his cock twitch inside your cunt.

You bit your lip, eyes flicking down at Joel, voice sweet as honey, “Was just about to.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, his fingers pinching your ass hard in retaliation. You yelped, causing your body to twist up and into him, and he had to swallow his groan.

Then, suddenly, Tommy’s expression shifted.

His eyes flicked between the both of you—Joel looking wrecked, breath uneven, a little too flushed for the cool evening breeze, and you, doing your best to keep your face neutral while subtly adjusting yourself in his lap.

Tommy’s head tilted. His mouth parted.

And then, slowly, a knowing smirk crept onto his face.

“No way,” he breathed, realization dawning. “You are not—”

“Tommy—” Joel ground out, voice low and warning.

But it was too late.

Tommy burst out laughing, doubling over, hands on his knees.

Joel exhaled sharply, hands twitching on your waist, his patience hanging by a thread. “Swear to God—”

You, on the other hand, were trying very, very hard to keep a straight face.

Tommy finally straightened up, wiping at his eyes, still grinning like an idiot. “Man, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Get outta here,” Joel said between his teeth.

Tommy held his hands up in mock surrender, taking a step back from the truck. “Hey, hey, I ain’t judgin’—I just never thought I’d see the day my big brother was gettin’ it on in a goddamn parking lot like a damn teenager.”

Joel groaned, glaring daggers at him. “You done?”

Tommy smirked, but started backing toward his truck. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He shot you a wink. “You take care now, darlin’.”

You smiled sweetly. “I will, Tommy.”

Joel huffed sharply, clearly done with this entire situation.

You kept an eye on Tommy as he finally slid into his truck, still shaking his head as he fired up the engine. Before he pulled away, he called out—

“Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do!”

Joel slammed the window up before you could reply.

The second Tommy’s taillights disappeared down the road, Joel let out a long, deep breath, his grip on your waist still iron-tight.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You giggled, biting your lip, still settled in his lap, still pulsing around him.

Joel’s gaze snapped to you.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice thick, dark.

You blinked at him innocently, then, just to test him, you rolled your hips slowly, feeling his cock move deep inside you again. Both of you moaned at the feeling.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

“Mmm but you love it,” you smiled.

Joel growled, his patience finally snapping. His hands tightened, yanking you down against him, grinding your soaked heat over him slow and deep.

You gasped, your fingers flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he began to set a rhythm, his hips rocking up to meet yours, filling you over and over again.

“Fuckin' hell, girl,” Joel gritted out as your forehead dropped against his, “You love this, don’t you?”

You could barely breathe, pleasure pooling low and hot, winding tight in your belly, “Y-yes, feels s–s–so good,” you gasped, rolling your hips faster, chasing the high that had been aching inside you since the moment he first touched you.

Joel’s lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan that tore from your throat as his hips snapped up into you, deep and slow at first, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. You whimpered, fingers fisting in the shoulders of his shirt, clinging to him as the pleasure started to coil, winding tighter and tighter with every drag of his cock inside you.

“Oh god,” you gasped, barely able to breathe, barely able to think beyond the feel of him filling you, stretching you, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

“That’s it, baby—just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough, his arms wrapping around you as he rocked up to meet you.

You moved with him, rolling your hips, your body seeking more, chasing it, the friction and heat spiraling higher, hotter, pleasure building until it felt like you were seconds from snapping.

Joel must’ve felt it, the way you were trembling, the way your body clenched tighter around him, because his grip on you tightened, guiding you faster, pushing you closer, until—

“Come on now, hunny–you all talk or you really gonna cum?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with need. “Let me have it, wanna feel you.”

And that—his words, his voice, the command in it—was what undid you.

A sharp, wrecked moan tore from your lips as the pressure snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your whole body shuddering and twitching as you clenched tight around him, pulsing, shaking, coming undone in his lap.

Joel groaned loudly, his head tipping back against the headrest, his jaw tight, his breath shattering as he thrust up into you, once, twice—

And then he followed, his grip bruising on your body as he buried himself deep, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he came, spilling hot inside you, his whole body locking up before relaxing, spent, wrecked.

The truck fell into silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the sticky heat between you, the feel of his arms still gripping you, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a huffed-out chuckle against your chest. “Yeah.”

You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you moving, just breathing each other in, the moment settling between you.

Finally, Joel ran a slow, warm hand up your spine, his voice still gravelly when he spoke.

“So.” A beat. “We ain’t goin’ to Jameson’s, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head against his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

Joel smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“Good.”

#just coffee joel #Joel miller #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller x you #Joel miller smut #smutty one shot #Joel miller tlou #tlou #Joel miller the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #Joel miller fanfic #Joel miller one shot #Joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller smutty #Tommy cameo

250 notes · View notes

tseecka · 2 days ago

Text

I peel oranges neatly. The sections come apart cleanly, perfectly in my hands.

***

One day, Ximena buys Jayce a crate of oranges.

She hands it to him one Sunday morning; he still visits every Sunday, makes time early in the morning before the sun has even risen to find his way to the meagre Talis estate and let himself through the front gate and into her warm kitchen, where spiced chocolate is always steaming and waiting for him. She asks him about his work; she asks him about the Council, and about Hextech, and about the forge, and about Viktor and Heimerdinger and the Academy.

He asks her about her garden, and helps her remove and clean and oil the joints of her digital prostheses.

She tuts over a new burn or scrape on his hands--which have never been cared for properly, the skin red and inflamed around the site, a mild infection setting in. She finds the antiseptic and the gauze, withdrawn from the first aid kid mounted next to the kitchen sink, and does her best to clean it, and he indulges her. She is, after all, his mother. He hasn't needed her in a long time, but this is something he can do for her, let her mother him, and it's nice to sit in his childhood home with her fussing over his hand while the mug of chocolate warms his palm, a pleasant soothe against the sharp sting of disinfectant.

This is their weekly morning ritual; it does not typically involve oranges.

(Remaining fic under the cut, or you can read it on Archive of Our Own!)

"I know for a fact," she tells him mildly, digging out a sharp splinter of metal that got lodged at the base of his thumb two nights ago, "that you and that Viktor of yours don't eat nearly enough."

"Ma..." Jayce sighs, shaking his head. His tone is long-suffering, teasingly weary; but he can't say anything more than that, because she is unfortunately, right. There is an icebox in their lab, just a small one, installed in the corner next to the futon he liberated from his old bedroom. It's not wise to argue with Ximena Talis.

She clicks her tongue at him, and the sliver comes out, captured neatly between the precision points of her prostheses--more effective than tweezers. He winces, flexes his hand, and a drop of blood beads on his skin. He'd honestly figured it would work itself out, but she'd spotted it immediately.

"You're so busy, Jayce, I understand this; but you must eat, if only to give that brain of yours the nourishment it needs, hm? Coffee is not enough."

"Okay--but oranges?"

She tears open a small foil packet, withdrawing an antiseptic wipe from inside--a folded piece of damp towel, soaked with solution. She swipes it over the pinprick wound, wiping away the blood. "Your father always kept a crate in the forge," she says, her voice soft and fond. "He was like you--or you are like him. Always working, always moving, never a moment to stop and care for himself. But he liked oranges. The juice for his thirst, the pulp for his stomach, and the sugar for his energy. Convenient; clean." The towelette is set aside. She plucks a small square bandage out of the first aid kit, fitting the adhesive to the skin around the wound. The pale fabric stands out against his darker skin. "I used to come and sit in the forge with him while he worked and peel oranges for him." She laughs, "Useless man. For how fine his smithing was, he never could manage to peel them without smashing them to pulp."

Jaye laughs with her. He doesn't remember his father very well, but the recollection of a toddler brings to mind an enormous bear of a man, with strong, large hands. Maybe larger than they would have been in reality, memory unable to adjust to the passing of time, still remembering a palm and fingers broad enough to encompass the top of his head. It's easy to imagine hands as massive as that trying, and failing, in the delicate operation of removing a peel without damanging the fruit inside.

"Anyways," Ximena continues, folding both her hands over Jayce's one and smiling at him. Crow's feet wrinkle at the corners of her eyes; deep lines form from her nose to the corners of her mouth, etched by the years. "They were on sale. Take them with you and keep them in your lab. Then I will worry less, hm?"

"All right," Jayce agrees, laying his other hand on top of hers and squeezing gently. She is his mother; far be it from him to reject this expression of her love. At worst, they will turn green and fuzzy and end up in next week's trash. At best--a juicy segment of orange now and again does sound nice, against the dry acrid metallic taste of the lab's stagnant air. The bid for time doesn't go unnoticed, though, and he lingers a little longer with his mother today, seeing the gift as emblematic of her maternal worry, and doing what he can to assuage it.

She seems less sad when he leaves, the crate of oranges cradled in his arms. It is early enough still that he thinks he will reach the lab before Viktor does (unless his partner has stayed working through the night; he does that, sometimes, but if that's the case, Jayce was never going to beat him there). The aroma of citrus oil wafts into his nose the entire way to the Academy.

***

Of course they don't have fresh citrus in the Undercity.

It's not like Viktor doesn't know what they are, when he arrives at the lab later that morning (Jayce is pleased at the hour; it means Viktor likely got some real sleep the night before, and even if it was just because he was too exhausted from too many sleepness nights to fight it back any longer--a win is a win). His eyes land on the crate as he hooks his stool with his cane, pulling it over to him; he pauses, as it caught off guard.

"What...are those?"

"...Oranges?"

VIktor sighs impatiently, waving a hand at Jayce as though he's swatting at an insect nuisance. "Yes, I know what oranges are, Jayce. Why are they here?"

"Oh! My mother--a gift. She thought having some fresh fruit in the lab might encourage us to eat better."

Viktor's face shifts into a thoughtful moue, lips pulling down and eyebrows lifting as he considers, shrugs. He settles into his stool and sets the cane aside, leaning against the worktop. Jayce resists needling, asking if Viktor has had breakfast. He'll go for the oranges on his own time. It's irrational to think Ximena would somehow know, or sense, if her gift of care had been rejected. The two men settle into their work--Viktor pulling over an opened notebook and setting his pencil to the page, presumably picking up where he left off in navigating the complex mathematical proofs that have been occupying his mind, Jayce sliding his goggles down over his eyes as he turns his attention to soldering together a number of small components that, he hopes, will one day be capable of housing and conducting energy from a Hexstone. They work in a comfortable silence.

It's a couple of hours later, that Jayce--intent on his work, goggles magnifying the connections in the metal in front of him and by extension blocking out everything else in his surroundings--hears a pained hiss, followed by Viktor's huff of frustration. His back complains as he straightens--how did he end up slouched so far over--and he turns to look at Viktor. The magnification restricts his range of vision, and so it is that he sees--in extensive detail--Viktor's fingers digging like claws into the pitted skin of an orange. His index is buried in the fruit to the first knuckle; there is juice spattering the back of his hand. Hurriedly, he pushes the goggles up off of his eyes, and its in time to see the irritated embarrassment before Viktor wips it from his expression.

"...Doing okay there, Viktor?"

"No, Jayce," comes the exasperated reply. "I have citric acid in my nail bed, and this--impossible fruit refuses to come apart for me. And now my notes are covered in orange juice!"

Wordlessly, Jayce holds out a hand for the orange. Viktor drops it into his palm with another irritated eye roll, withdrawing his finger with a wet popping sound. His face twists in disgust, and he shoves his stool away from the workbench, grabbing up his cane so he can cross to where they keep the cleaning rags. Jayce listens to the retreating tapping of his cane as he considers the orange in his hands.

There are pale grooves in the skin, the pitted surface not quite scraped clean of zest, where Viktor clearly had tried to peel it; scratching at the tough exterior with blunted, chewed-off nails, obviously to no avail. He rotates it in his hands, unable to keep the bemused expression from his face as he notes the evidence of all of Viktor's attempts, culminating, finally, in a singular frustrated stab through the peel and into the flesh beneath.

"Viktor," he calls out, as he fits his own index finger into the wound and pulls, gently, teasing the pith away from the segments as the peel comes away, "what did the orange do to you?"

He hears the tapping of the cane as Viktor comes back to the workbench. He pauses next to Jayce's shoulder, watching as Jayce strips the flesh of its rind in large chunks, tugging away reluctant bits of the pith that refuse to come away cleanly. "Nothing," comes the reply. Jayce glances up at his face, then away; there's a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks, as Jayce peels the fruit with ease. "I just--didn't know the trick of it."

Which is how Jayce learns that, indeed, there are no oranges in the Undercity. And Viktor, for all that he lives in Piltover and has advantages he never could have enjoyed at home, is still staunchly loyal to the Undercity; he tends not to indulge in luxuries that are denied his compatriots. So he never had them at home; and never bothered to seek them out up here.

It's not the first time Jayce has unexpectedly run up against Viktor's rigid internal moral code, manifesting in unexpected ways in how he lives his life as a transplant from disadvantage to relative privilege. Privately, he adds this to his own list of grievances, which grows every time he learns some new angle as to how badly Piltover keeps the Undercity ground below its genteel boot.

He finishes peeling the orange for Viktor, setting the fruit on the pile of discarded rind, and shows him how to tease apart the segments so that they separate cleanly in his hands. Points out where the seeds can sometimes live, so that Viktor won't crack his teeth biting down on one. Viktor nods to him, offering a crooked little half smile, and turns back to his work, wiping away the splatters of orange juice on his notebook pages before turning over to a fresh one. Jayce waits, and watches for a moment, but Viktor seems uninterested in pursuing the fruit any further. Still--it's a good reminder to himself, as well, so he reaches out to snag his own orange from the box, rolling it along the countertop to loosen the peel before quickly stripping it down.

The taste bursts sweet across his tongue. Of course Piltover won't export oranges to the Undercity. They can't have Zaunites developing a taste for sunlight.

***

Viktor's hands are deft and skilled. Jayce knows this; has seen the evidence of his work, his elegant script in their shared notebooks, the fine detail work on the pieces and components of their creations. He has a light touch, deliberate and confident, and more than once Jayce has gotten distracted watching Viktor work. He compares Viktor's hands to his own, often; he knows his broad palms and thick fingers speak of strength, but Viktor's are no more delicate than his own, for all that they are lighter and more nimble. The both bear collections of small wounds; Viktor's nailbeds are often torn and shredded, red and inflamed at the corners where he nibbles off his hangnails and teases at flaps of loose cuticle.

And maybe that's the reason why--the remembered sting of citrus in an open wound making him shy of it--but despite his very adept hands, Viktor seems absolutely useless at peeling oranges. His nails, chewed bluntly down to the quick, can't pierce the skin; no matter how Jayce tries to help, showing him tricks of rolling the orange across a surface or digging in to the navel where it once hung from the branch, Viktor inevitably tears holes into the delicate flesh, juice squirting out in all directions as he craters into the skin. He tries, once, to bite through it with his teeth; Jayce can't help but laugh at the disgusted expression his face shifts into when the bitter oil lands on his tongue and gums.

He doesn't think Ximena would quite approve of the way in which they devour the crate of oranges between them, especially as it makes the need for trips out of the lab to the cafeteria or to the food carts on the streets outside less and less necessary; their diet dwindles down to primarily oranges, for 8 to 12 hours out of the day, when they remember to eat at all, both of them appreicative of the chance to fulfill their bodies' needs without having to get up from their work stations at all. But they're healthy, and its better than not eating anything at all, Jayce thinks--which has often been the case for Viktor, at least, unwilling to abandon his train of thought for even an hour to satisfy his body's demand for nourishment. And for all that trying to peel them frustrates the hell out of his partner, Viktor seems to have developed a taste for them.

Eventually, Viktor stops even trying. He'll reach for an orange and roll it about mindlessly on the table top for a few minutes as he thinks, or ponders a particularly challenging runic equation. He'll roll one of them back and forth between his palms as he stands at the chalkboard, eyes raking over their scrawled notes and diagrams. And sometimes, he simply grabs an orange out of their dwindling supply, and plops it next to Jayce's elbow without a word. In all cases, the wordless request is there; and every time, Jayce takes up the orange, peels it, and sets it back on Viktor's side of the table. Often--not always, but often enough--he'll get a quick smile from Viktor, a duck of his head in thanks, before he goes back to whatever he was working on or talking about.

Sometimes, he pushes the orange back to Jayce's side, and Jayce realizes that he has not in fact eaten yet that day.

Sometimes, when they get stuck, Viktor pushes his rolling stool a few more feet away. They bandy ideas back and forth, hypotheses and refutations, as they toss an orange to and fro across the lab; a break from the monotony, the bright scent of citrus oil sinking into their palms, waking up their tired minds, until one or the other has a sudden brainwave and they can get back to work.

Sometimes, in the time it takes for Jayce to peel the fruit, Viktor's mind has already moved on to something else; and the orange sits, bare and shining, skin slowly drying out in the staticky, dehumidified air of the lab. Jayce takes a certain kind of glee in pulling off a segment when this happens and waiting for an opportune moment--usually while Viktor is expounding on his latest theory, or ripping into one of Jayce's--to pop the orange into his mouth, interrupting him for a brief moment. Viktor's expression is always a delight--first the irate response to having food shoved in his mouth, but then, usually, a look of resigned bliss as he bites down, filling his mouth with a burst of flavour and brightness, and inevitably holding out his hand for the rest of his orange as he continues.

***

When Jayce visits his mother the next week, she doesn't seem surprised when he tells her, a bit sheepishly, that they've already worked through most of the crate. He tells her about peeling oranges for Viktor; he relays the series of misfortunes that Viktor has encountered, watching a soft smile spread, unconsciously, over her features. It makes him feel warm; he stumbles over the rest of his words, finishing the story lamely, but she doesn't say anything about it. Her hand rests over her heart, over the locket she wears around her neck. He doesn't know what her expression is saying.

She walks with him to work that day, forcing a detour to the produce market, where she insists on buying another crate and placing it in his arms. "You boys need to eat," she says, "and a mother worries. Oranges are better than a diet of coffee."

Its not until he kisses her cheek at the entrance to the Academy grounds and bids her a good day, tells her he loves her, that he realizes how similar his orange-story must sound to her own memories, peeling oranges for his father in the forge.

***

"More oranges, Jayce--!" is Viktor's exclamation when Jayce arrives, grimacing a little as he walks into the lab. The market detour made him later than usual. He thinks if he had gotten here first, Viktor probably wouldn't have even noticed the supply replenish, but it's hard to obscure an entire crate of fruit in ones arms.

"It's my mother," he explains, sheepish. "She is convinced we don't eat enough, and now that she knows we've been going through the oranges at a breakneck pace..." He shrugs, and sets the crate on the countertop. He tips the last few oranges from the week before on top, and tosses the empty rigid-paper crate in the direction of the door.

Viktor squints at him. "You are just enjoying my torment. You enjoy mocking me. 'Ah, poor Viktor, he is so incompetent he cannot even peel a fruit.'" The way his tongue rolls on fruit sounds like music to Jayce's ears; he can't help but laugh a little at it, which just causes Viktor's playful scowl to deepen further. "'I must continue to ply him with citrus, to keep him humble, in the hopes that he forgets that I am incompetent in everything but the peeling of oranges."

Jayce has already pulled out two oranges to approximate a breakfast for them both. He peels one in a long, continuous spiral while Viktor continues on his "tirade", plopping it down in one open palm as the gesticulations--a habit of Viktor's whenever he sets out to mock Jayce, exagerrating his admittedly expansive hand movements--come to a pause. Viktor looks down at the orange, then back up at Jayce, who grins, shrugs, and pops an orange segment into his own mouth. "You done?" he asks. "Because I can take that back, if you don't want it." Viktor's fingers curl around the globe, settling into the slight divots between the segments, cleaned of pith as best as Jayce can manage. "Mmm. That's what I thought." He turns away from Viktor, and pulls over a tray holding a pile of metal discs and a handheld grinder.

"Ridiculous man," he hears Viktor mutter; then again, the consonants shaped this time around a mouthful of orange, "absolutely ridiculous." It sounds affectionate, and pleased, and warm; like the sunshine in the orange is beaming out from Viktor's lips, washing over Jayce like a warm summer morning. Jayce shoves the remaining quarter of his own orange into his mouth, cheek bulging out as he chews, and begins notching gears.

***

It's not as though they only eat oranges. Jayce is well aware of his body's needs, to maintain his physical ability in the forge, to retain his muscle definition and physique; he takes pride in his body, he won't be ashamed of it. And, too, he is hyper aware of the needs ot Viktor's body; as it rebels against him, as it deteriorates, the need to eat a balanced diet and intake all of the essential macronutrients for survival becomes ever more present. Viktor doesn't thank him for the fuss, but Jayce keeps a careful tally of everything Viktor eats, to his knowledge, and tries to force himself out of his hyperfocused headspace when it's necessary to ensure they are both getting what their bodies need.

They still take short walks--shorter, now, than they used to be, and Jayce knows that Viktor knows even if he doesn't comment on it--to some of their favourite places, when the need to consume something that is not either coffee or an orange becomes strong enough to pull them away from the lab. When they have a breakthrough, they celebrate at a restaurant, rewarding themselves with a socially acceptable dinner (instead of digging into the work with even more fervour than before).

But every week, Ximena buys a new crate of oranges, and Jayce brings it in to the lab. The space constantly smells of citrus, now--it's a clean, bright, fresh scent, combating the metals and oils and the ozone-copper tang of magic that suffuses their working space. Jayce feels more awake when he walks in each morning, the sharpness hitting his olfactory senses and sending a signal to his brain that makes him alert and attentive. He thinks it is having an impact on Viktor, too--his mood noticeably lightens, his sharp edges of frustration growing a little fuzzier, a little softer, whenever Jayce hands him a freshly peeled orange to combat an ornery mood. He starts collecting the peels, tipping handfuls of them into the jar of vinegar they keep for cleaning their work surfaces. The orange oil infuses into the sharp, acrid vinegar, balancing out the harsh scents with something bright and warm.

And Jayce's hands--they smell like oranges all the time, the scent of it lingering in the bits of zest caught under his nails, the oils worked into his skin. He is surrounded by it; he closes his eyes and feels sun-warmed, comfortable, memories of walking through orange groves flitting through his mind's eye. It's comforting in a way that feels strange until he makes the connection--his mother, peeling oranges for his father in the forge, then coming to gather him up from his minder with orange oil on her own skin. It awakens something in his subconscious, a feeling of home and safety and family, and he realizes--

It's a scent he's started to associate with Viktor, too.

Which doesn't quite make sense--after all, Viktor doesn't peel the oranges, isn't getting his hands and fingernails sticky with orange juice, doesn't have to pry clumps of rind from under his nails when he goes home every day. It makes Jayce a little sad, to realize that this smell he associates so strongly now with Viktor and with their lab might solely be from his perspective. That maybe Viktor doesn't smell of oranges at all. That they haven't left their mark on him the same way as they leave their mark on Jayce.

How many oranges, he wonders, does a person need to eat per day before the essence starts to bleed through their skin; before their cells are infused, like the vinegar in the jar, before that brightness is lent out to their fingertips and palms? If he breathed Viktor in, would he smell of sun-bright citrus, warm and energizing, waking up Jayce's senses?

If he kissed him, would he taste oranges on his breath?

The grinder slips, scoring a rough scrape along his finger, and he bites back a yelp as he is brought forcibly back down to earth from wherever his thoughts have been wandering. Viktor's head shoots up from where he has been working on screwing together the framework for a calibrator, eyes wide and alarmed. Their gazes meet, and Jayce feels a flush creep over his cheeks.

Where did that thought come from?

***

Ximena tuts over the scrape, spanning along the side of his finger nearly from the mound of his knuckle all the way to the tip. The antiseptic solution stings, entering his skin and contacting his nerves through what must be hundreds of tiny nicks, each grain of the rough sandpaper abrading away a tiny piece of his skin.

There is another crate of oranges sitting on the counter, waiting for him to take it to the lab with him when he leaves.

He wants to ask her a question; but he doesn't know how to put it into words. About peeling oranges. About infusion. About how long something can sit in solution with something else before they become inseparable, orange oil in vinegar. It's a silly urge; he is the scientist, after all, these are things he should know, but its less about the combination of molecules than it is about something...more. Something he has no experience with, but which he knows she does; knows it in the way he thinks back to that conversation about peeling oranges, the expression on her face when she spoke about care, her hand resting over the locket, over her heart, the way his foggy memories of both his parents sharpen whenever he first splits an orange peel with his thumbnail and feels that fine mist spray into the air.

He doesn't ask her anything about that, doesn't say anything at all as she tends to his hand, wraps it up with thing gauze to prevent infection. "You're quiet today, caro," she remarks when she's done. He offers her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Thinking through a hypothesis. I'm fairly certain I know the answer, but...I'm having trouble testing it."

She tidies away the first aid supplies, taking them back to their place. Jayce cradles his hand, still stinging, against his chest. When she returns to the kitchen table, she's carrying a small plate with half a dozen golden-brown muffins. Their tops are dotted with gleaming jewels of candied peel, and large crystals of sugar, and curls of pale yellow zest.

"Maybe you're not asking the right question, then," she suggests. "Or maybe your heads addled from too many oranges, and not enough of anything else. Are you actually managing to eat a balanced diet? Or did I condemn my son to a lifetime of nutritional deficiency?"

Jayce has to laugh, as he takes a muffin at her urging. "Well, at least you know I won't die of scurvy," he jokes back as he tears off a bite. Her comment sends him back, to long hours bent over schoolwork; the frustration of trying to sort through scientific procedure, of having to rein in his instinct and enthusiasm for something testable and repeatable, experimental design.

The muffin is sweet and warm, a little bitter from the copious amount of zest inside. He groans his appreciation, and she answers it with a beatific smile. "These are so damn good, Ma," he tells her. She swats his arm for swearing. "Can I take one with me? For Viktor?"

She looks at him, and he swallows as the weight of her regard falls on him. There's something significant in her even gaze, as it flicks down to the muffins, then back up at him. He knows, before she tells him--

Viktor made them.

***

Jayce does take a muffin for the road--for himself, seeing as Viktor likely has as many as he would want after having baked the batch. He tucks it into a corner of the box of oranges as he walks, his mind racing. It's not--it doesn't need to mean anything. Anyone can slice an orange in half with a knife, cut through the barrier to get at the flesh inside, juice it and squeeze it into a batter. It's just--the peel. Diced, and finely, but not enough to hide the pieces with a rough and ragged edge, distinct from the knife work on the other four sides. The way some of the little chunks, enrobed in sugary syrup, still have tiny shreds of pith clinging to them, encased like a bug in amber. That's not--if you cut an orange apart to get at the pieces you needed, or if you bought those pieces already prepared, those things wouldn't be--

And of course, it's not like Viktor is incompetent. One doesn't need a pristinely peeled orange for use in baking, it's not like it matters, he could massacre a pile of oranges and still get what he needs for the recipe, but--

If I kissed him, would Viktor taste of oranges?

"Maybe you're not asking the right question."

Do I...want to kiss Viktor?

***

Jayce feels himself moving slowly, when he pushes open the door to the lab. There is a reluctance to it; not fear, but hesitance. For a man normally so bold with discovery, it doesn't quite feel like him, but for all their talk of changing the world--this hypothesis feels like it could shake every foundation of everything Jayce has known, up to this point, more than any he has had before.

He sets down the box of oranges; there are none left to replace on top, and he's fairly certain there were some still in the box last night, which means the fruit in the muffins came from their supply. Viktor took them home; he didn't buy the ingredients pre-prepared. He takes out the muffin, and sets it, carefully, at Viktor's work station; in the space where he normally deposits his coffee mug. It's maybe a bit overdramatic; the morning sun slants in through the window and falls directly on it, setting the candied peel to glistening.

He takes a few moments to bustle about the lab, pouring clearning vinegar onto a rag and wiping down the stainless steel surfaces until they are gleaming, until the only thing he can smell is oranges. His pulse is pounding in his ears.

"Maybe you're not asking the right question."

Does Viktor...want to kiss me?

An hour passes; two. Jayce can't sit still; he grabs Viktor's notebook, and flips through the pages, reviewing the work from the last week, jotting down some observations in the margins and copying some thoughts down into his own collection of notes. He grabs a second book, comparing work from two months ago to the work they are refining now; finds an inconsistency, corrects it, copies it into both books so that they are each correct. He balances them in one hand and copies a few figures onto the chalkboard, the chalk screeching against the slate, his lines shaky.

Finally, he hears the door open ehind him, the tapping of Viktor's cane as it hits the ground with every step. He hears the unusual pause as Viktor comes intot he room, enough to see the muffin sitting in its beam of light--or where it used to be; the sun has moved, and the shaft from the window is creeping now along the very edge of the workbench and up the wall, putting the pastry back into shadow. Still, he knows he sees it. He thinks he can hear Viktor's brain calculating from here. The other man says nothing. The tapping of the cane resumes, and when he hears the creak of the stool settling under Viktor's weight, he turns on his heel, plastering a nonchalant, sunny smile onto his face.

"Good morning," he offers, and aims for casual as he closes Viktor's notebook, tossing it gently towards the the end of the workbench so that Viktor can re-shelve it in the stack of books and notes and loose papers accoring to whatever strange filing system he's adopted. "Everything okay? You were a little late getting in."

"I am fine, Jayce," Viktor says. He doesn't sound quite fine; his voice sounds a little strained. Kind of like his own. Viktor clears his throat. "Just had a rough start to the morning. Pain acting up; I opted to move a bit more slowly, and allowed myself some time to soak in epsom salts before I made my way here."

Jayce makes a sympathetic noise, settling into his own chair, tossing his own notebook down onto the work surface. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says, and he means it. "You've been having a good couple of weeks; sorry that the pain's back."

"Eh. It is what it is. I will deal with it as I always do," is Viktor's reply.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The question is met with silence. Jayce tries to keep his hands busy, as though the question isn't loaded with weight and meaning, as though he hasn't placed an accusatory muffin right in pride of place on Viktor's work station, like he doesn't have a hypothesis buzzing in his head based on nothing more than instinct and disconnected observations. But his eyes flit to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Viktor--his posture, his body language, his expression. HIs partner is extremely still, for a moment, then a moment omre.

Then he moves. Jayce watches as he reaches out, past the muffin, and snags an orange from the box. "I'm a little hungry," Viktor murmurs quietly. Jayce turns a bit more, swiveling in his seat to face him more directly. Viktor isn't looking at him; his eyes are watching the orange as he rolls it back and forth on the countertop, smooth, measured motions, flicking from it to the muffin and back again. The motion stops, the orange pinned between his fingertips--deft, nimble, strong--and the desktop. There's an orange tinge under his fingernails.

Then, decisively, Viktor flicks his fingers, sending the orange rolling to nudge up against Jayce's elbow. Viktor's eyes lift to his face, and there's a sweet, tentative half-smile there. Jayce isn't sure he's ever seen an expression like it, not on Viktor, at least. He can see the small gap in his teeth, the crooked line of his lower jaw. He's close; closer than Jayce realized. When he speaks, Jayce swears he smells oranges.

"Would you mind peeling an orange for me?"

***

When Emily peels an orange, she tears holes in it. Juice squirts in all directions.

"Kate," she says, "I don't know how you do it!"

Emily is my best friend. I hope she never learns how to peel oranges.

- Oranges, Jean Little

Peeling oranges 🍊🧡

#tsee writes shit #jayvik #arcane #so I fully was expecting to write just a sweet little one shot #when i started typing this in the reblog window #and then it grew legs on me and became *gestures* this #anyways i immediately had this idea when i saw this art and I desperately needed to write it #I hope you enjoy <3 #please let me know if you have an AO3 account so I can mark it as a gift!

5K notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 2 days ago

Note

Question for #AEIWAM, about the Hogyoku: In Canon, Aizen is using one Hogyoku to figure out how to make Shinigami into Hollow, and Urahara is discovered to have a second Hogyoku when he tries to undo the Hollowfication on the group that would become the Visored. But it's never adequately explained where either of them came from, other than "they were invented by [Aizen & Urahara". In #AEIWAM, if the Hogyoku was used to make the first Kami, but using it for what Urahara & Aizen were doing, it seems so... low-powered. What if it's not two separate Hogyoku, but rather one Hogyoku split into two parts? Man, I bet Kaname was waiting for the best moment to tell Aizen that Urahara had one

Oh no.

It's MUCH stupider than that.

The *exact* nature and purpose of the hogyoku (and why the instructions for how to make one were just out there for Gin to find on the Soul King's worktable) are MAJOR SPOILERS for the TYBW arc of AEIWAM, but as far as functions go: A Hogyoku is a device used to accumulate massive amounts of Reiryoku (Soul Energy), compress and purify it, and then squeeze it out into an organism later to make it extremely powerful.

If you can guess the spoilers from those two sentences, you get a gold star and drafted into helping me write this damn fic.

I'm not sure where you got the bit about them being used to make the first Kami, but that is (at least now) not the case- Kami form from a similar function, but were not intentionally *made*, and not with a Hogyoku.

ANYWAY,

You are right, the two hogyoku in AEIWAM are under-powered compared to the original plan, but that's mostly because neither Aizen or Urahara could comprehend the sheer scale of Nobody's design, so what they actually made were, essentially Micro-hogyokus.

The Approximate Order of Events:

A fuckass long time ago:

Nobody, Ichibei and Shinso all get the shit stabbed out of them during the Godslaying Event.

Gin is formed from the physical and metaphysical viscera of all three.

As a result, Nobody dies, Ichibei is left a shell of his former self and Shinso loses his body.

Gin realizes that, with Nobody dead and Their various body parts jamming up the wheel of Samsara, there is a very real possibility the Current Life Machine will starve and die before it can give birth to the next one, and the universe they're in will retroactively cease to exist.

Gin decides the best course of action is to put the current Life Machine on life support so it doesn't starve or miscarry while he figures out how to unjam the wheel.

While Gin is figuring this shit out, Ichibei shoves Nobody's corpse in amber and locks the palace to prevent anyone from finding out the "Soul King" is dead, and traps Shinso inside.

Gin finds the plans for The Hogyoku (note the capitalization) on Nobody's worktable, and realizes a smaller version could be used to fill a single soul with an absolute shitwack of energy and that soul could then become an energy capri-sun for the Life Machine.

Gin, however, lacks the engineering knowledge or skill to actually MAKE a micro-hogyoku, let alone convince a soul to submit themselves to the torture of becoming a Divine Juice Box.

...Unless they think it was their idea in the first place.

Gin redacts a few key points about The Hogyoku, including it's scale and intended purpose, and then takes the redacted plans- which are not paper but Concepts- and travels to Spirit World, where most of the Reiriyoku is to dangle the plans in the dreams of various likely-looking maniacs that are slightly too smart for their own good.

late 1700's to early 1800's

After several false starts, Gin finally hits his mark in the disillusioned and bitter Sosuke Aizen, who lost his entire family in a series of catastrophes and is realizing just how cruel and incompetent the afterlife really is.

Aizen changes careers from "Assistant to the central 46" to "Shinigami" and starts his research into the nature of Reiryoku to build "his" vision to make himself God and Fix Everything Forever.

Gin continues jiggling the bait while he waits for Aizen to get some results, and finds a second mark in a bright-eyed and naieve Kisuke Urahara, who thinks he can use it to infuse hollows with whatever it is they're missing and Fix That Forever.

Satisfied that he now has a Juice Box and a Backup Juice box, Gin transforms into a human-shaped soul and appears as a child in the Rukongai as part of his long con to get close to Aizen and Urahara and keep them on track.

late 1800's ish:

Progress is SLOW with both men and Gin is getting frustrated.

Aizen is slighty further along, having learned about Arrancar and the growth instars of hollows while Kisuke was learning how to become a cop, so Gin enters the academy, speedruns it, and attatches himself to Aizen to herd him in the right direction faster.

Aizen is also fucking terrible at Opsec and is discovered by Kaname Tousen, who is immune to Aizen's Illusion Bullshit, but mistakenly thinks that Aizen's lackey, Kiganjo, is the mastermind, and confides in Aizen.

Aizen is about to straight-up murder Kaname to keep him from blowing it when Gin remembers Kaname from the academy and realizes that where Aizen has ambition instead of brains, Kaname is the real genius here, and will definitely speed things up.

Whether he wants to or not.

Shortly after Kaname is cursed into compliance, Kirio Hikifune is recruited into the Royal Guard and Urahara becomes captain of the 12th, where he devotes himself to figuring out how to make his hogyoku.

Everything is coming up Gin!

1900:

Despite being cursed all to hell, Tousen VERY NEARLY blows the whole operation by alerting the rest of the court guard to the location of Aizen's lab, but Gin is able to step in at the last second and stop him.

...By turning 14 of the Ninth's seated officers into hollows that were absorbed by the hogyoku, and the subsequent rescue party into hollows that Urahara spirits away.

Instead of absorbing the rescue party into his own hogyoku, urahara turns them into Visored and they all abscond to the living world/vanish as far as Gin can tell.

Fuck.

Gin redoubles his efforts to keep Aizen on track now that he only has one Juice Box, which means things get a whole lot worse for Tousen but hey, gotta save the universe and that means Aizen Absolutely Cannot Fuck This Up.

1980:

Aizen Fucks it All Up.

Gin has to sprint back to Soul King Palace to molt real fast, and in the fucking three days he's gone, Aizen:

figures out how to use the "export energy" feature on his hogyoku and

instead of exporting the energy into HIMSELF, Aisen makes a sort of super-hollow he calls "White" because that's his favorite color, and dumps all 10,000 souls worth of energy into it.

Aizen then orders Kaname to take White to the Living World to go fuck shit up, just to see what it can do.

Kaname, in the midst of an extreme nervous breakdown, abandons White in downtown Karakura because Aizen forgot to give him end commands, and goes to ground in hopes that Aizen gets his dumb ass killed doing this, or Kaname dies quietly before he can be forced to mutilate or kill anyone else.

Kaname's Obvious Nervous Breakdown is witnessed by Captain Isshin Shiba, who follows Kaname to his meeting with... someone, he looks like a human-shaped mirage? and some creepy-ass hollow, which Kaname takes to the living world and then just... leaves?

White starts to Fuck Shit Up, mostly by wandering around while being a dangerously radioactive to souls, and Isshin decides he needs to kill this thing before it destroys the whole city.

Quincy Prodigy and current host to the ghost of Quincy Freishutz sees White and has the same idea.

Looney-tunes ass battle between White, Isshin, and Masaki breaks out.

Meanwhile, Kaname's continuing nervous breakdown is witnessed by Yoruichi, who stalks him in cat form for a while before she senses the fight break out, and calls Urahara on the way to tell him Shit's Afoot.

Meanwhile, Isshin and Masaki are falling in love. Or at least, Isshin is falling in love with the most insane woman he's ever met. Masaki thinks he's a very cute tactical advantage.

White, all of two hours old, has no fucking clue what the fuck is happening, just that these asshole are trying to kill him.

Isshin and Masaki do a coordinated double attack that backfires and effectively tears everyone's souls in half- Isshin and Masaki are seperated from their Yume-kon: Engetsu and Quincy Freishutz.

Yoruichi gets to the fight and kicks White into two pieces that had not yet quite figured out who is king and who is horse, and then Yoruichi is KO'd by the resulting recoil.

Urahara arrives just in time to see his former coworker and some woman(???) with their souls falling apart, and two large glops of energy. Isshin demands urahara save this woman. Urahara, attempting to figure out how to do that: I can. uh. frankenstein your souls together? Masaki, seeing her way out of Yhwach's grasp: DO THAT.

Urahara uses his hogyoku to stuff the glops of energy into the holes where thier Yume-kon should be, then stitches Isshin and Masaki's souls together to contain the glops within both of them.

Inside Masaki and Isshin, Quincy Freischutz and Engetsu both fuse with/are absorbed by the glops formerly known as white.

This causes Isshin to develop severe amnesia and Masaki to lose her the use of quincy abilities/breaks her connection to Ywach.

Aizen realizes that his hogyoku is now Empty (and useless), but witnesses Urahara use his before absconding with Isshin and whoever that woman was.

Kaname wakes up in bed in the ninth with exactly zero memory of how the fuck he got back from his saw-trap-like bolt hole in the living world, and a really weird headache.

1983:

Isshin and Masaki get HAMMERED at a Halloween party and make Ichigo.

Both halves of the being formerly known as White jump from parent to child, taking whats left of Engetsu and Quincy Freischutz with them, and inside the fetal ichigo, the entities re-fuse into a chimera that decides its name is Zangetsu.

Zangetsu then promptly goes dormant because yume-kon are not supposed to be body hopping and reverse-parthenogenesising like this no matter how much energy they have to burn and he's TIRED.

Orihime's parents get drunk and have nasty hate sex in a closet during an office christmas party and make Orihime, setting Shinso's much better secret "Fix The Life Machine" plan in motion.

Urahara finally gets the idea "Hey maybe this hogyoku thing isn't a great idea"

He thinks that he can destroy his hogyoku by sealing it, then sealing it inside a sturdy mortal soul, and letting that mortal die.

Unfortunately, no souls in the living world can handle the radiation of the sealed hogyoku, so he's got to stuff it into a shinigami and then make that shinigami mortal.

2000:

Instead of doing the sane thing and stuffing it into the most immediately available shinigami (himself), Urahara fucks around for 20 years until Rukia comes around, and he stuffs it into her soul instead.

In a weird coincidence that ABSOLUTELY NOBODY COULD HAVE SEEN COMING, Rukia, who is patrolling the area Ichigo lives in, comes into contact with Ichigo, the kid whose parents Urahara stuffed full of hogyoku glop.

This contact makes the dormant Zangetsu WAKE THE FUCK UP, and reflexively slorp the soul energy out of Rukia. Instead of the full powers of Urahara's hogyoku, Zangetsu only gets Rukia's personal reserves, but its enough for him to be concious and see that OH FUCK THAT'S A BIGASS HOLLOW, ICHIGO'S GONNA DIE FUCK, FUCK WE NEED A WEAPON- BOW? NO, TOO CLOSE. SWORD? YEAH! WE REMEMBER HOW TO BE A SWORD!!

Thus: Shinigami!Ichigo.

This event trips Aizen's radar, and he starts his plan to get his hands on Urahara's still-active hogyoku/fuck over soul society/destroy karakura/make himself the new soul king

the first and second parts of that plan (mostly) work, and Aizen yoinks urahara's hogyoku from rukia and absconds with it, Gin and Kaname, who has been working on his own plan to break the curse, but is exhausted.

Aizen, just to be a dick to ichigo, kidnaps Orihime.

Kaname explains that the hogyokus are tools that consume souls and convert them into energy, and that Aizen is planning to use the one he stole from urahara to devour karakura and make himself into the new god. "What do you mean 'new' god?" "I'm like 99% sure the soul king is dead. there's God-sized body parts all over the spirit world." "Ah. Bad."

Aizen shows Orihime his own, empty hogyoku and monolouges about how only an incompetent and cruel god would make the living and spirit worlds like this. While he's distracted, Orihime grabs the hogyoku and eats it, bringing the next part of Shinso's plan to fruition.

Orihime starts being able to see connections other people don't but she's had AuDHD her whole life so that's nothing new. Her Shun Shun Rikka suddenly gets a whole lot stronger though, and she helps kaname start to break his curse by pulling the nails out of his spine with it.

At the battle of Fake Karakura, Kaname finally breaks his curse and beats the SHIT out of Aizen until he cracks Urahara's hogyoku that aizen loged in his chest, preventing it from absorbing any more power, so Aizen can't absorb real karakura and become a god.

In retaliation, Aizen decides that if he can't be god, then he will at least kill the gotei-13, and fuses with urahara's hogyoku to become stupid powerful

Zangetsu has been trying to speed-train ichigo but the kid is only 16 and this is the apocalypse unless they do something UHHHHH HERE KID, HAVE SOME OF OUR HOGYOKU POWERS YEAH THEY'RE HOLLOW FLAVORED DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT-

Hollow!Ichigo finishes kicking Aizen's ass until he's unable to fight back and surrenders, losing control of, but unable to let of his immense power.

Gin pops up from where he'd been pretending to be a corpse, paralyzes Aizen by stabbing him in the back of the neck, says "thanks kid!" and absconds with his Juice box back to Soul King Palace, and then to the workings of the Life machine beyond.

Gin puts Aizen into something that greatly resembles a horrible combination of The Machine from princess bride, a mouth, and a taffy puller, which operates in much the same fashion as all three to extract all that delicious soul energy from him.

2001:

Kaname wakes up from the coma Unohana had to put him in to let him recover on Valentines day, finally a free man for the first time in over a century.

It's not the first thing he does with his freedom, but kicking urahara's ass for making a hogyoku at all is up there.

Orihime continues to get... weirder.

...and that's as far as I've gotten with much specificity in drafts.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach fanfic #kaname tosen #sosuke aizen #kisuke urahara #gin ichimaru #long post under the cut

251 notes · View notes

0wlettie · 15 hours ago

Text

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: you've been avoiding caleb recently because you've just realized how you truly feel about him, but when life hits you hard one day, you realize that you might need him more than you thought you would...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 16.9k, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, clingy, crybaby!reader, pet names (princess, good girl), light D/s dynamics, crying (but in sexy way), dirty talk, slight degradation/dumbification, possessive behavior, (because it wouldn't be a caleb fic if he wasn't at least a little bit possessive) fingerfucking, pussy eating, unprotected sex, subspace but it isn't really talked about, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you want to read there ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: this is my first ever lads piece and i worked very hard on this absolute monster of a fic, so i hope whoever happens to come across this enjoys it; beta'd by me so any mistakes are my own; title comes from IKUK by ONEUS because i played the fuck outta that song writing this and it slaps ! as this is nsfw Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs will be blocked)

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Burying yourself further into the depths of your hoodie, you slowly make your way up to your apartment. The elevator is currently out of commission; some sort of mechanical error, the bright orange note taped to the cautioned off doors stated, so you’re forced to make the grueling journey to the seventh floor by stairs alone.

After an eight-hour long shift working at a department store nearly an hour away by bus, you’re maybe a little more than upset at the prospect of being on your feet longer than you really have to be. Unfortunately, you’re left with little other options at this point. It wasn’t like you could magically teleport to the seventh floor. Sighing long and loud, you rub your eyes.

“Fucking whatever, man.” You grumble to yourself, readjusting your bookbag before turning around and heading to the stairs. The sight of all those floors is intimidating, but you force your feet to move regardless. Even if the soles of your aching feet are screaming at you to stop, you continue on. Once or twice you lean against the wall for a bit of a breather, only moving again when you’re startled by the notifications of your socials on your phone.

You are so fucking tired.

But still, you take one more painful step. Then another. Then another. One by one by one until—

‘Home sweet home.’ You think a little hysterically, barely glancing at the shiny gold 713 before pushing your way through the door. After, of course, fumbling through your various pockets looking for your keys. Your fingers are shaking slightly, but that’s easily ignored once you finally make it inside. You inhale sharply, blindly feeling for the door behind you as you toss your bag to the floor. You take in your apartment as you close your door with your back, absently kicking off your shoes.

To your right is your bathroom, to your left is your ‘bedroom’ and straight ahead is the kitchenette. It's a cozy little thing, your place; a studio you found for cheap a few months after graduating highschool three years ago. It’s not the greatest place—there's water damage on various parts of the ceiling, a few moldy spots in the bathroom that refuse to leave, the a/c unit does shit all during the summer, there’s basically no insulation so it’s freezing during the winter and you can hear everything going on with your neighbors upstairs and downstairs. Oh, and the indoor washer-dryer unit never works so you have to haul your dirty laundry down the elevator once a week to the nearest laundromat if you don’t want to smell like ass.

This place is a dump, but it's your beloved dump—all the plushies, figures and books lining the shelves prove that fact. Even if it’s a little chillier now that the sun’s gone down, the familiarity would usually be enough to slow your heart rate and lower your defenses.

It’s not enough, though. That thrum of anxiety still runs through your veins, and you’re about three seconds away from hyperventilating. You’ve gone past the tired phase of your day, and are now verging onto the ‘mental breakdown’ part. Groaning and pretending like you don’t feel the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes, you turn towards your little kitchen area and shuffle in. It's pure muscle memory that has you reaching for the cabinet above the stove, pulling out the hot cocoa mix and your favorite mug in seconds. Your routine has been the same for months now—hot chocolate, some cookies, your favorite plush throw and a show you’ve already seen before to help numb the panic. It was the most effective method you’ve come up with, the only one to work long enough for you to get some sleep.

Well. It was the second most effective. The first was currently a two-hour drive away at college, studying for a career in the aerospace field.

You bite down on your lip hard when tears pool in your eyes, and unconsciously, your gaze is drawn to the cluster of polaroids pinned to the front of your refrigerator. Photos of various things cover the pale surface—the sky at dusk, a stray cat that occasionally shows up by the park down the street, fireworks from a festival you went to last year, a silly picture of you in the mirror that’s mostly the flash of a camera—but the one that stands out to you the most is underneath a cartoonish magnet of an airplane.

You’re pressed together cheek to cheek with a boy a few years older than you at the time. A huge grin splits your face, your eyes squinting closed from the glare of the camera. His smile is a little smaller, controlled. But there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds two fingers up behind your head, his other arm holding onto the camera off screen.

It’s you and Caleb Xia. Your best friend in the entire world.

The man you’re deeply in love with.

Seeing his face after months of barely any contact is enough for the ache in your chest to fully affect you. Your hands shake so badly that you accidentally end up dropping your mug. You’re too slow to catch it, and you watch in numb detachment as it falls and shatters against your wooden floors, shards bouncing off the floor to land on the soft purple cotton of your kitty socks.

You promptly burst into tears, squatting down to cup your knees as you cry loudly into the space you’ve made.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Thick, salty tears run warm tracks down your cheeks as you sob into the open air. You try to blink them away as fast as you can, and when that doesn’t work, you roughly scrub your face. You haven’t cried like this in a while, but it was a long time coming. You were on the verge of a meltdown—you could feel it as days passed you by. That doesn’t make you feel any better, though. Not when you’re kneeling on the ground trying to pick up shards of ceramic while blind from your tears. It’s a recipe for disaster, but nothing can really ruin your day more than this. You certainly don’t care if you accidentally cut yourself, not when it feels like your very world is ending.

“Shit!” You lose your grip on one of the shards you grab. You quickly yank your hand back to avoid getting cut as it falls back to the ground. It breaks even further upon impact, and a hysterical scream threatens to erupt from your mouth, but you hastily swallow it back down. The walls are thin and you don’t need a nosy neighbor to see you like this.

‘Can’t blame anyone but yourself, dumbass.’ The voice in your head berates you. No one told you to push away the one person who could make it all better—you were the one who decided that all on your own. It’s painful to admit, even to yourself, but it’s true. You’re trying your damnedest to avoid Caleb, and you’ve been doing so for a couple months by now.

It’s easy to blame conflicting schedules and the hours separating your homes for the distance. Easy to pin the blame on your exhaustion after long days, his work as a part-time mechanic, the fact that you’re an adult and you can’t keep going to him when you just feel like it. Waking him up at three in the morning because you suddenly feel lonely. Calling him during work or class because you have to tell him about this funny post you saw on one of your socials. Cuddling and hanging all over him because touching him makes you happy and warm and safe.

Kimberly—a coworker of yours—was right to low-key call you out on your seemingly unhealthy dependence on Caleb. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it was her offhand comment that got you to fully realize how you feel about him.

Wow, with how much you cling to the guy I was sure he was your boyfriend or something.

Except Caleb isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your best friend—the only friend you can confidently say you have.

But the thought of him becoming more than that was surprisingly…tempting. An idea you never dared to contemplate was suddenly brought to the forefront of your mind and now you couldn’t escape how right it would feel. But those thoughts were scary, and there were times where you almost slipped up and said something more than strictly platonic. You could only imagine the look on Caleb’s face as he’d let you down gently—because there was no way he’d ever consider you as a girlfriend, not when he still views you as nothing more than his childhood best friend, a little kid sister. It hurts, that realization; cuts deeply in a way you’ve never felt before and that’s when it truly clicks in your head.

Unconsciously, you think you always knew how you really felt about Caleb. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time when you didn’t care deeply for him. A thousand little moments along the course of your lives together just eventually added up into something stronger than platonic affection; something that consumed your mind, body and soul until nothing was left for him to take. Not that you were trying to blame him for your own emotions, it’s just…hard to keep yourself out of his orbit. Harder still to try and live with these feelings of yours. So you took the coward’s way out and just…pushed them away.

You stopped calling so randomly. Stopped bothering him at work. Stopped sending him random links to nearby cafes where you could go together. Stopped inviting him over for sleepovers and movie nights. Started to decline his invitations out, his subtle questions of spending time together, his concerned texts until…

Until here you are; crying on the floor of your dumpy apartment, alone and cleaning up the broken shards of your favorite mug. A mug Caleb gave to you as a housewarming gift. It was one of the cutest little things you'd ever seen; stubby, round and in the shape of a panda bear, it fits your aesthetic to a T. It was large enough to carry at least two cups worth of tea or hot chocolate, and even though it was a bit bulky for your own smaller hands, it made your day whenever you did use it. And now it’s in a bunch of tiny pieces scattered along your wooden floors.

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes as you stare down at one of the panda’s broken eyeballs. The furious churning in your gut makes you feel sick and more than anything you wish you weren’t here anymore. In this cold, lonely and broken apartment of yours. You wish you were with Caleb.

You miss him.

You miss his stupidly tall self. How safe and protected he makes you feel. How much he makes you laugh when you're sad. How comforting his hands are whenever you accidentally hurt yourself. You miss the gentle, teasing cadence of his voice; the depth of his pretty colored eyes; the security and warmth of his hugs. You miss him so fucking much.

“I’m such a mess.” You whisper roughly, trying to wipe away the tears as they fall, hoping they’ll stop soon. But they don’t, slowly but surely continuing to wet your flushed and puffy face. You groan and cover your eyes with your balled up fists, blindly sitting back on your ass and scooting along the floor until your back hits the nearest surface. You bring your knees up until they rest underneath your chin, wrapping your arms around them and squeezing.

There’s a brewing ache settling in your chest; a gaping hole where Caleb still sits despite everything. You were the one who viciously dug him out, but you still can’t help but feel sorry for yourself anyway. It’s not like he doesn’t still reach out, but you feel like there’s this wide canyon between the two of you now. You don’t know if you can even force yourself to reach out first, not when you feel so guilty for ignoring him in the first place.

Unmoored and lost in waves of pain and loneliness, you sit there for what feels like an eternity, drowning over and over and over again. As time passes, though, that raging sea calms into something manageable. Your tears eventually dry up and your breathing evens out a bit, but you still feel like you’re on that precipice. Like one wrong move will have you slipping into a free fall, back into the angry, churning sea of your heartache.

RING! RING-RINNG!

An obnoxiously loud tone rings out from your stomach, and you just about jump ten feet into the air.

“Fuck!” You scream, accidentally hitting your head on the countertop above you. You yelp, squeezing your eyes shut as you fumble through your hoodie pocket for your phone with one hand, the other going to gingerly feel around the throbbing area of your skull. You recognize the familiar tone and it sends your slightly calmed heart back into overdrive; beating so fiercely that you’re afraid it’s going to burst through your ribcage. The pain immediately turns into something unimportant as you dig your phone out of your pocket.

Your eyes are locked onto a smiling photo of Caleb. It’s him in his mechanic’s uniform, unbuttoned halfway through and showing the white tank top underneath, grease smeared all over him and his clothes with his sleeves half rolled up. He’s unfairly and stupidly handsome and you hate that it’s the photo you have saved for him. You hesitate as the ringing continues. Should you pick it up? You’re still so hurt and lonely, but do you really have the courage to answer after you’ve been treating him so unfairly this entire time?

One more look at his smiling face has you immediately folding like a wet paper napkin, however, and you answer the call moments later.

Except that it’s a facetime rather than a phone call, a fact you realize once your face greets you after you pick up. Luckily, his eyes are drawn off to the side, so you quickly turn the camera around to face your socked feet. You frantically curse inside of your head, but there’s nothing to be done now. You don’t have the heart to hang up on him, not when you can see every little detail of his pretty face. The sight already has you feeling better, even when he hasn't even acknowledged you yet.

You’re a weak, weak person.

“You know, when someone facetimes you it's because they want to see your face.” The clear, teasing tone of his voice causes your cheeks to darken, his eyes flicking up and then down to lock onto your feet pointedly. The last time you two were speaking by voice was…maybe two and a half weeks ago? A far cry from how you used to call him at least twice a day. Despite the snark, you can’t help but savor the warmth in his words. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t reply somehow.

“Fuck off, you know I don’t like facetimes, Caleb.” You grumble, attempting to be normal but you fail within seconds. Your voice cracks halfway through your sentence and there’s an audible stuffiness to your nose that carries over to your speech. It’s so painfully obvious that you’ve been crying.

That amiable cheer of his dissolves immediately, his eyes snapping to stare directly into the camera as his smile morphs into a noticeable frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His eyes dart over the screen frantically, like he can figure out the answer based on your socked feet and kitchen floor alone. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he somehow did—Caleb’s strangely good with small details and can tell your mood just by looking for your subtle microexpressions. While you know some others around him have found it a bit strange, you just think it's sweet how deeply he cares about things like that. It’s…cute, to you. You like that he pays so close attention.

You see some of that perceptiveness when Caleb zeroes in on something small near your feet. His eyes narrow slightly, but before you can even look to see what exactly he’s staring intently at, his eyes are raising up to stare back into the camera. Like he can see you even when it isn’t facing you directly.

“Turn your camera around.”

You bite your bottom lip at the seriousness of his tone. The statement sounds more like an order and while normally you’d at least tease him for it, maybe even sass him back for the firmness of his words, you just can’t bring yourself to ignore him. Not when it feels like you can finally breathe after what feels like ages.

Still, you hesitate.

Rubbing your cheek, you look down at the ‘switch camera’ button. It would be so easy to just let Caleb in right now, to let him see just what a fucking mess you are so he can make everything be okay again. But your coworkers' words float through your mind—how strange it is to be so reliant on someone when you yourself are a grown ass adult. Nervously, you rub your feet together, taking a bit of comfort in the soft fabric rubbing against your skin. You don’t know what to do…both sides are warring within you and the more you try and decide, the harder it is to come to a decision.

That’s when Caleb speaks up, almost as if he can sense your indecision.

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. You know I can make it feel better.” You breath hitches, your heart thumping so fast that all the blood rushes to your ears in an instant. Caleb’s voice is so soothing—so soft and sweet and comforting that tears prick the corners of your eyes. You want to be with him so badly that it makes your chest ache with longing.

“Caleb..!” You sniffle out, hiding behind your hand when his gaze becomes too much for you. Your face feels so hot that you’re afraid of spontaneously combusting. God, he knows how to make you weak and you would be angry at him if it didn’t make you feel so small and safe.

“You don’t have to worry with me around—you know that I’ll take care of you, don’t you? C’mon, lemme help you out like you need me to.” You peek above your hand, shivering at the intensity of his stare. It’s in stark contrast with his softly murmured words, and your brain goes a little fuzzy the longer you meet his gaze.

Caleb has always taken care of you, even when you were nothing but the lonely, annoying little girl who lived next door. Three years his junior and acting like a crybaby at even the slightest of inconveniences, he should’ve naturally found you insufferable. But he never once turned you away, no matter how many times he had to dry your tears, play with you, help you study and so, so much more. He always made sure you were looked after when your parents were too busy to even care, bringing you over to dinner with his parents or even sharing some of his lunch with you when he knew you hadn’t eaten. Caleb has always been there to make it better, to take care of you and make all of your worries fade away. Why wouldn’t he do the same now? He’s completely right—you need him.

“You promise?’ You whisper, the tears pooling in your eyes overflowing as you hiccup.

“I promise.” He says solemnly. Silently, you reach out and press the reverse camera button.

His eyes track rapidly over your face once the camera switches, no doubt cataloging the very obvious evidence of your crying fest. The thickness of his brows furrow into slants as he takes in your face, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down as concern lights up his dusk-purple irises. You stare at each other for a few quiet beats, the only noise coming from Caleb’s end as he moves to somewhere a little quieter. The slight sounds of murmuring and laughter gradually fade away as he goes somewhere private, the lights casting a warm glow over his complexion as he sits down.

‘Maybe he was at a party? Or a friend’s house?’

“...Bad day?” Clearly, he’s waiting for you to open up before he does anything else. You shy away from his knowing gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your tears. You’re an adult who pays rent and taxes—you should be more than capable of handling these emotions on your own but…but you also can’t help but like that Caleb wants to help you too.

He’s obviously waiting patiently for you to reply, but you stall just a little longer. Tugging at a strand of your hair that fell out of your bun, chewing on your bottom lip as you count the handles on your cabinets, tugging at the loose thread of your hoodie pocket…the excuses continue until you have nothing else to do but stare at Caleb. It’s only then that you begin to tell him about your day, underneath the gentle patience of his warm gaze.

From your alarm going off a half hour late so you had to rush through your normal routine in order to catch the bus on time. To the older woman who yelled at you for not having the right dress size for her daughter’s baby shower and complaining to your manager. To the weird, creepy homeless man who harassed you at the bus stop and even followed you on until the bus driver noticed and kicked him off a few stops before yours. To then have to walk up seven flights of stairs because the elevator all of a sudden wanted to have a problem today of all days. And now, with your feet carefully tucked away from the mess you made earlier when you clumsily dropped your favorite mug ever and broke it into a million little pieces. It was all just too fucking much and you felt like you were going crazy because you should be able to handle these events but you just can’t—

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?” Caleb’s voice is like a beacon in the night; a guiding light for you to follow to safety lost amongst the roaring, crashing waves of your turbulent emotions. Shakily, you inhale deep and slow breaths, following Caleb’s instructions as he continues to stare at you. You feel ridiculous crying again, and something on your face must show that because Caleb shoots you a look.

“Stop that already. There’s nothing wrong with feelin’ this deeply, princess. Especially since you've already had such a long day.” You toss him a pout, trying and failing to not let his kind words affect you. He sees through your attempt easily, a helplessly fond expression taking over the worry as he watches you wipe the remaining tear off your cheeks. A comfortable silence follows his words, and you take the time to compose yourself a little. As much as you hate to admit, talking to Caleb did wonders for your current mood. You feel a whole lot better than you did before.

“How we doin’? Better, now?”

You nod, rubbing away the last of your stray tears. He smiles softly, eyes taking in your calmed expression.

“Good, good.” He mumbles, and you finally notice a peculiar jangling sound emanate from his side of the phone. Tilting your head slightly, you focus your attention back on Caleb. Before, when he called, he was dressed in a casual graphic-muscle tee and the shining silver chain you had gifted him when he first went away to college. Now, there was a leather jacket tossed over the shirt, and judging from the echo and the faint ringing sound, it looked like he was in a…car?!

‘He wasn’t–!’

“Caleb…please tell me you aren’t coming over to my place now!?” He shoots you a cheeky smile in response—something that makes panic and delight swell within your lower belly so fast that you have no idea what you’re feeling more. Logic wins out, however, and you try to dissuade him as quickly as possible.

“Caleb, it’s 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night! With traffic it’ll be at least a three hour trip!”

“Mah, it’s no big deal at all. I only have one class tomorrow and even if I do miss it, it won’t be too much of a hit. No biggie.” He says flippantly, shrugging his shoulders with a half-smile. You suddenly want to reach through the camera to smack him on the back of his head. This is not a ‘no biggie’ matter! A five to six hour round trip is just ridiculous, even for your best friend.

“Caleb!”

“Princess!” He tosses back mockingly, and you fight back the urge to melt. He knows that little nickname of his is unfair—it’s why he’s abusing it so thoroughly now. But this just feels like way too much, especially since you’re feeling a lot better than before.

“I-I’m fine now, there’s no need for you to go out of your way like this…”

He pauses, and you can see in his hands are the keys to his car. He shoots you a look as he lowers his hand, one that sends a bolt of heat through your veins.

“Then tell me not to come.”

“Wh-what?”

“Tell me, then. If you really don’t want me to come over, then say it.” You open your mouth, ready to do just that but you falter at his expectant face. As much as you were protesting before, the thought of seeing him in person—of feeling his big, warm hands around you makes your chest squeeze painfully. You easily acquiesce after a few moments of staring into his eyes, groaning into the palm of your hand to avoid his smug expression. Though, when you glance back at him, that little curl to his lips is still there—prominent when combined with the bright and satisfied look in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I’ll see you soon, then.”

You murmur out something vaguely coherent, but Caleb doesn’t let you go without one last goodbye.

“Bye, princess.’’

“...goodbye, Caleb.’’

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

Freshly showered and an apartment as tidy as you can make it with thirty minutes left—glass cleaned up and everything—you anxiously wait on the futon that serves as your bed. Your skin is still a little dewy from the water, and your hair is a bit wet, but it’s safely twisted and pinned up into two buns on top of your head. Dressed in a soft and worn pair of grey sweats and an oversized maroon hoodie that you’re ninety percent sure is Caleb’s, you’re as comfortable you can possibly get at the moment. With a nest of plush and colorful throws as well as a few plushies to keep you company, you recline back on the futon, currently in its couch mode. You try to make yourself look as natural as possible, but an anxious tingle still remains low in your belly.

This will be the first time seeing Caleb in months and it’s nerve wracking.

You have no idea how to even act around him. Will he bring up the distance between you both? Will he avoid it? Or will he just wait for you to eventually tell him what’s wrong—something that you’ve done in the past on numerous occasions. Hiding things from Caleb never really is a thing you do; he’s just too good at figuring you out, and you have this compulsion to spill your guts whenever you stare at him too long.

But how would you even go about explaining it all?

“Ugh, I hate this.” You groan, covering your face with one of your plushies as you curl up on the futon. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel now. So much for trying to be self-sufficient. You ended up having to depend on Caleb yet again to help you. And he was driving all the way to Linkon! Three hours was a long time, and you know he’s had a full day of classes and work, so he was no doubt exhausted. Not to mention the stairs! Fuck, you really are the worst, aren’t you?

You curl up even tighter as the embarrassment blooms into bright and ugly shame. Tears push at the corners of your eyes again and you wish you could stop crying already, but you just can’t. Sniffling, you rub your cheek against the silky-smooth fur of your seal plush. Another gift from Caleb—a birthday one, actually. You both had spent the day at the mall where you two went around for hours. He won the little guy in a crane game that was outside of one of the cutesy stores you like to peek your head in occasionally. It had taken a few more tries than he would have liked—his words verbatim—but you eventually left the mall with one more plush heavier.

‘More evidence that I need to grow up.’ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a loud breath. Yeah, you were never going to give up your collection of plushies. Childish or not, you deserve to have sweet, cute little guys you can cuddle up to when you need a bit of happiness. With one last cheek rub to your seal, you slowly sit up and pat your cheeks. Glancing at the clock, you realize that Caleb’s got about fifteen more minutes or so.

“Maybe I can order something for us to eat? That fried chicken place that he likes so much should still be open now...” Opening up your phone, you’re about to tap the food delivery service app, but a knock at your door stops you. You blink, confused, before Caleb’s muffled voice comes from behind the heavy, brown wood.

“You mind gettin’ the door?”

You scramble up from your seat, flailing a little when your feet get tangled up in your blankets. The struggle you go through is loud and obvious, so by the time you get the door open, Caleb’s smile is wide and amused.

“Doin’ alright there, princess?” You opt to ignore his rhetorical question, glancing down at the bulging white bag dangling from his left hand. Double bagged you can’t really tell what’s in it—just that it’s full and heavy looking, a logo of a nearby convenience store on the front. You glance back up at his smiling face. Normally, you’d have already jumped him, and your usual song and dance involves you hanging off of his neck like a monkey while he ushers his way inside; lightly bickering all the while. However…you’re trying to be considerate here. He’s likely tired from all the work he’s had today, so pouncing on him like some overexcited puppy wouldn’t be welcome, you’re sure. Instead, you opt for something a lot more toned down.

“Did you really buy snacks? I was gonna just order something for us. To, y’know, make up for all that gas you used.” You pout a little, pulling Caleb in by his wrist and kicking the door shut behind him. The warmth from his skin seeps into your hand, and you fight the urge to wrap yourself around him like a koala. Face feeling hot, you pretend like your thoughts aren’t totally embarrassing and pull him towards the futon. You carefully keep your eyes trained on the chains dangling from his jeans instead of meeting the stare you can feel boring through your forehead.

Before you can get very far, though, he gently stops you by tugging his wrist back a little, mindful not to dislodge your own hold. He herdes you to your kitchenette with a little snort, depositing the bag in his hand onto the countertop with a muted ‘thump’.

“Why order out when I can just make you somethin’ instead?” He raises a brow, and you let go of his wrist so he can shrug out of his leather jacket. The thought of a home cooked meal sounds more than appealing at the moment, especially coming from Caleb. You swear that if he wasn’t so set on that aerospace engineering stuff that he’d be an amazing private chef. You tell him as much while he drapes his jacket over a metal hook drilled into the wall near the counter, belly growing warm at the sound of his laughter and the visual of his bare, muscled arms.

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t think I’m that good.” His smile is a little lopsided once he turns back to you, but it’s the way he opens his arms that truly turns that warmth into something scorching.

“Before the food, though, I think there’s somethin’ you’re forgetting to give me, hm?”

You inhale sharply, your lower lip trembling as you look at his face. His expression is a mask of calm, but there’s an anticipatory sort of fire in his eyes, and you realize that he wants you to jump him like you would normally. Resolve cracking once again into pieces, you immediately jump into his spread arms. Your own limbs fly up to wrap around his neck, and you stand on your tippy toes for only a second before his arms surround you, lifting until your legs wrap around his waist. He squeezes you tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder while you hide away in the crook of his neck, your trembling hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

The cologne he wears floods your nose—something deep and masculine that makes you think of late night drives, clear lakes and winter nights. That familiar scent instantly has you sagging in his hold, trusting that he’s strong enough to carry your body weight as you press even closer to him. His warmth, his scent, the strength in his arms and the low, soothing hum he starts when you inevitably let loose a few tears and sob a little; all of it causes you to feel human—something you haven’t been feeling in a long, long while. You vow to yourself to never avoid him ever again—you think you would actually just keel over and die if you have to live without his hugs.

“I missed you.” Your teary voice is muffled by his throat, but he understands you perfectly regardless.

“Missed you too, princess.” One of the hands supporting your waist slides up your spine, stopping when it reaches the nape of your neck. He rests his hand there, fingers absently playing with the baby hairs at the base as you rub your nose against his neck. Your face feels like it’s pure magma with the way it burns, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re positive Caleb can feel it, with how close you two are pressed together. As flustered as this is making you feel, however, there is a part of you that’s just melting into the easy affection between you two. A part that’s growing the longer you’re touching him.

It feels so good to be in his arms again, to feel him enveloping you, keeping you safe and protected. The slow rise and fall of his chest soothes you, and your slight sniffles calm down. Sleepily, you rub your nose against his throat again, the action surprising a low chuckle out of him that makes your brain go blank with contentment. Eventually, though, you have to part. So, with one last squeeze, Caleb pats your back and gently lowers you to the ground. You only realize you’re pouting when one of his large hands comes up to squish your cheeks together. You squawk in protest, using one of your own hands to swat at his hand before he lets you go.

“Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t look like that. Makes me wanna bully you when you’re acting cute.” The smile on his face is teasing, but there’s something contemplative in his gaze as he regards you.

Your face flushes a blazing red, that sleepy soft feeling evaporating in an instant. His voice echoes loudly in your head as your eyes widen. Did he just…call you cute? No, he said you were acting cute. But, doesn’t that mean the same thing? Doesn’t it? You feel like you’re about to go insane from his flippant words, and you bring your hands up to cover your hot face in embarrassment. This kind of banter is normal for you two—it’s supposed to be normal, but now it’s all too much. You can’t…you can’t deal with him talking like that, not when you’ve just noticed how you really feel about him!

A strange expression flits across his face after he takes stock of you, but before you can even think to ask, the look is gone and he slings an arm over your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest, the smile audible in his voice as he leads you into the kitchen.

“Alright, I’ve got a few options we can choose from…”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You end up choosing something simple but delicious—ramen!

Your kitchen area is small, but composed of two separate counters; one connected to the wall in an L-shape with the sink, microwave and stove, the other splitting the area in half. Caleb is working near the sink and the stove, all of the ingredients spread out in an organized fashion. The water is set on the stove getting hot, the packs of noodles placed on the counter by it. Various toppings litter the surface of the counter—eggs, some seaweed, what looks like bok choy and pork belly. He knows it’s your absolute favorite and the thought of him specifically going out of his way to buy you something makes your heart thump inside of your chest painfully.

You’re sitting on top of the second counter, lighty swinging your feet back and forth as you watch him work. A heavy, almost burning feeling settles in your lower stomach as you do. He looks…at home, here, like he belongs in your kitchen. Moving about with an easy finesse that speaks of his intimate knowledge of your apartment.

How he only uses the first two burners because the back flames don’t get hot enough; how he knows exactly where you keep your pots and pans and other kitchen tools; how he knows that the cool water doesn’t flow from the faucet so he grabs one of the water bottles from out of the fridge; how he expertly maneuvers in your kind of cramped kitchenette despite his height, dodging around sharp corners and the hanging overhead lights like it’s instinct. It’s all too fucking much for you to take in. Like some sort of rom-com, domestic fantasy brought to life. The soft lofi station playing in the background of your apartment from your speaker only cements that fact.

It should be nothing new to you—it is nothing new to you. Caleb and you have ended up in the kitchen together countless times before in the past. But you were ignorant back then. Now, you’re completely aware of how strongly you love Caleb, how deeply and wholly it consumes you, so all of the normal things you did together seem to carry a deeper meaning. But it has to be your imagination—it’s just all in your head. You can't believe that Caleb sees this any different than normal. Caleb is your best friend so he obviously loves you, just…not like how you love him.

It stings like a bitch to admit, but you have to come to terms with it. You won’t be avoiding him anymore, you’ve already decided that, so you need to be able to handle it when Caleb does something platonically affectionate. ‘You’re his best friend—like a little kid sister to him.’ You chant like a mantra inside of your head, trying to control the blush on your face when you watch his arms flex as he uses a knife. You can’t help but trace over his profile, lingering on the length of his eyelashes, the sharp just of his jawline, the soft furrow of his brow as he concentrates, the softened line of his pink lips. It’s kind of creepy how hard you stare, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Not when everything about him draws you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re unusually quiet. What’s goin’ on in that big ole brain of yours?” Caleb keeps his eyes trained on the pork belly he’s cutting, but you still feel his attention zero in on you regardless. You fidget a little, expecting the question yet not at the same time. What should you even say?

What you can only say, you think. The truth.

“I guess I’m just…sorry?” Your quiet voice comes out more like a question, and you drop your eyes to your socked feet as they sway. You can’t bear to look at Caleb anymore, not when the shame and guilt from before start to come back.

“Sorry?”

You shrink back at the sound of his confusion, and as much as you loathe to bring it up first, the instinct to spill your guts wins. You’ve always been an open book to him, and after years of that habit, you don’t have the strength to change that now.

“I…I’ve been avoiding you–,” A lump forms in your throat halfway through your words, and the rhythmic cutting of the knife abruptly stops. You keep your gaze down, but Caleb’s focus goes from being present in the background to suddenly being there. You can literally feel his eyes bore into your forehead. You hunch further into the hoodie on you—Caleb’s hoodie—as if it can physically hide you away from your problems. Still, you continue to speak, absently noticing Caleb start to move in the background.

“And I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t your fault at all, I promise you. I just…I just figured that maybe I was, um, bothering you too much? I mean, I know I can be pretty annoying and you’ve been sweet to actually try and tolerate it, but I’ve got to grow up sometime, right? I shouldn’t be constantly texting or calling you over silly, nonsensical things about my day. I’m an adult, so I can’t be so selfish with you all the time, not when we both have our own separate lives to live—” You hiccup, and it's only then that you realize you’re crying again. Your fingers are bunching up the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing, your knuckles turning white from the strain. You sniffle, opening your mouth to continue, but another hiccup interrupts you as more tears blur your vision.

The abrupt sound of the sink turning on momentarily quiets your crying fit, and you snap your head up towards the sound. Caleb is furiously washing his hands, and you can only watch bewildered as he does so for the next thirty seconds. He whips back around after, absently drying his hands with a nearby towel before throwing it across the counter. His face is slightly pained as he stalkes towards you, and you’re suddenly aware of how big he is once he gets close.

His shoulders block out most of the overhead lights as he crowds into your personal space, his hands coming up to cup your flushed cheeks as he slides himself in between your legs. The stare he gives you is complicated; emotions flitting too fast for you to decipher with your obscured vision. Gently, he uses his thumbs to clean away the tears falling down your face, wiping away the ones in your eyes just a moment later. You sniffle a little, staring up at him with wide eyes as he slowly lowers his head to bump yours.

“Where in the world did you get the idea that I wouldn’t always want you around?” There’s a genuine note of distress in voice, though it’s clear he tries his best to hide it.

You only cry harder, shaking your head as your hands go from clinging onto the hoodie you're wearing to his shirt. It feels so stupid to admit that someone else influenced you—to say out loud that you were being so cruel to someone so important and close to you because you were afraid. Afraid that your feelings would get the better of you. Afraid that you would drive Caleb away with your clinginess. Afraid that you’d crumble to pieces if he ever rejected you. Because you need him in your life like you need air to breathe.

The grip on your face tightens.

“You don’t have to be so quick to grow up without me, y’know? Who said you needed to do that?” He switches tactics a bit, injecting a lighter tone in his voice as he wipes away more of your tears. Your lower lip wobbles, but you do take his words to heart. A little bit, at least. You open and close your mouth, and it takes more than one try to speak past the lump in your throat, but you do after a few moments of patience.

“...You don’t think it’s immature? You don’t…you aren’t annoyed by me being so-so clingy?”

He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly when he gives you a soft smile. You sniffle again, leaning into the warm palms holding your face. Your fingers loosen the death grip you have on his shirt. He moves a little closer in response, and you can feel the heat from his body seep through the fabric of your pants. Goosebumps rise across your skin when you realize how close Caleb is to your inner thighs. ‘Focus.’ You demand yourself, breath hitching when Caleb swipes his thumb underneath your eye.

“Of course not. I like it when you call me up the way you…used to.” Pain briefly flashes across his face before that gentle smile comes back. Your lip wobbles at the sight, but he quickly shushes you, lightly squeezing your face. You understand the silent message and swallow down a fresh wave of tears.

“You…you seriously don’t mind that I want to,” live underneath your skin 24/7 “be near you anyway I can? Even if it means that I’m bothering you when you’re busy?” Your inner thoughts mortify you, but the idea of being around Caleb all day, every day is so appealing to you that you feel insane with the way your entire being yearns for that to be the case.

“You never bother me. You have to know that, right, princess?” You bite your lip, one part of you disbelieving while the other half sings with delight at hearing those words come from Caleb. Kimberly meant no harm when she planted the idea, but you’ve had months to turn it over repeatedly in your head, and your insecurities have been louder than ever in your isolation.

“I’ll start trying to…at least.”

Caleb sighs a little, eyes flickering down for a moment before they meet yours squarely.

“Baby steps then.” He knocks your heads together gently before easing up his hunched shoulders. The palms cupping your cheeks leave after a few more seconds and he gives you one of his usual warm smiles.

“No more ignorin’ me, alright?”

You tellingly don’t say anything right away. You know you’re not going to avoid him anymore, it’s just, making your voice work after all of that feels like a herculean endeavor. Sniffling, you slowly blink up at him. Your silence makes his smile grow wide enough for his eyes to close, but there’s a rigidness to his expression that makes your stomach swoop. He leans back down, one of his hands tucking underneath your chin to raise it, the other falls to rest next to one of your legs on the counter. The back of his knuckles brush against your skin and you feel your eyes widen at the sharp look he shoots your way when his eyes open, smile fixed in place.

“You won’t ignore me anymore, right.” The soft murmur sounds more like a threat than a question, and that swooping sensation returns. You realize that you’re getting excited by the look in his eyes, your flush only growing more prominent when you feel yourself get embarrassingly wet from the intensity. You instinctively move to cross your legs, but since he’s still in between them they only tighten around his waist. His eyes drop to look down before they raise back up, one of his eyebrows arched as searches your face. After he looks his fill, a slight smirk curls the side of his lips up, and his head tilts to the side in an almost sarcastic fashion.

“R-right, I promise!” You stammer out, breath hitching when that downright mean look lasts for a beat longer before his smile becomes real. He pulls back the hand underneath your chin while the other gently rests on the outside of your thigh, lightly patting it before he removes himself from your personal space. Your breath whooshes out of you loudly, your heartbeat going a mile per minute as your red face gets even redder. His smile somehow gets brighter in response.

“Perfect. Now, just sit there and relax. Dinner should be ready in just a little bit.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You stop pulling away from Caleb after that night.

You never did fully explain to him why exactly you started distancing yourself, no matter how subtle and unsubtly he tried to pry. You guess you feel embarrassed by the reason. Embarrassed that you allowed your fears to get in the way of your friendship—that you allowed these stupidly intense feelings of yours to negatively affect one of the few good things in your life. So you keep the real catalyst to yourself, instead focusing on catching up with Caleb. You haven't really spoken-spoken in…four and a half months, so there was a lot to catch up on. Which was easy enough to do once you started regularly calling and texting him.

However, some things were still different, no matter how much you tried for it not to be.

Since you had your little revelation, everything and anything Caleb did that was even the slightest bit affectionate had you blushing like crazy. Constantly, you were flustered by the very obvious care he showed you, which had been amplified ever since you started talking again. It was like he was compensating for your insecurities by being extra sweet to you, and it was driving you insane to try and keep your head on straight.

He made a point to see you in person at least once a week, alternating between taking you out to eat or to walk around the mall, or cooking you something at home and watching movies. Without fail, Caleb would show up at your door knocking like clockwork. It worried you, at first. You didn’t want him to overexert himself in an effort to make you feel better, but you realized something about three weeks into this new routine.

Caleb needed it as much as you seemed to.

He was subtle about it, but you knew the man as well as he did you. So you noticed how relaxed he would get when you would ask him for things. How genuinely thrilled he seemed when you spoke openly about your feelings. How quickly he would respond to your texts even when he was busy, or how he picked up every single time without fail whenever you called. How he would jump at the chance to spend even a little bit of time with you.

How easily he would touch you.

You guys were physically affectionate before, but now…it was happening way more often. A hand on your waist, your lower back, resting behind your back or draped over your shoulder when you sat down; ruffling your loose hair or snagging your wrist when you playfully pulled away for him; pinching your cheeks to tease you, cupping underneath your jaw to emphasize a point he was making; or, god forbid, the few times he stopped you from rushing ahead by resting his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezing. He loomed over you in public, bodily putting himself between you and random strangers, using his height to his advantage when he wanted to herd you in another direction, coaxing you to lay or lean on him whenever you were sleepy either at home or outside.

After realizing that your relationship wasn’t so one-sided, well…it was easier to accept your new routine. Easier to allow yourself to indulge, easier to not feel guilty when Caleb was getting exactly what he seemed to want by looking after you so well.

Which led you to your predicament now.

“...You want me to come with you to a party?” You hold your phone up to your ear with your shoulder, chewing on a fruity twizzler as you circle a word in your book of word searches. It was sanrio themed and Caleb had snagged it for you on one of your little outings two weeks ago. The page you were working on was thirty-three out of sixty and was filled with various little chibis of cinnamoroll.

“It won’t be that bad. Gideon’s cousin is throwing a bit of a housewarming thing, and he invited me to come. Last week you picked what we did, so technically it is my turn…” He trails off playfully, and you pout because he’s right. You had forced him to stay inside and ordered pizza—you refused to let him go back to his apartment until you had finished all five of the twilight movies. Payback, really, when he forced you to watch all of those boring ass war movies he liked so much.

You roughly blow out a sigh, sliding your pen into the book.

“Is it a party or a…party party?”

“A party party, so as much as I wouldn’t mind you wearing one of my hoodies again,” You flush at the pointedness to his tone, “You should make an effort to wear something a little nicer.”

“Caleb~!” You whine, throwing yourself back across your splayed out futon. The only thing he does is laugh at your expense, and as much as you want to be truly annoyed, you can’t. His voice is too warm and soothing in your ear for you to feel any true irritation.

“C’mon, it won’t be so bad. We’ll stay for an hour or so, and then we can head back to my apartment. You wanted to see it anyway since I moved.”

“I guess so…”

“Just a little bit of human interaction, and then I’m all yours. Doesn’t that sound like a good deal?” His voice is softer now, coaxing almost. Like you’re some little kid that needs to be convinced to eat their veggies. It shouldn’t make you flush so intensely. Nor should it make your mind go fuzzy and cotton-filled, but here you are. Zoning out a bit because of his tone.

“...Yes, it does.” You mumble, blinking to try and erase that sudden fog.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it.” A fainter voice echoes from his side of the phone and he leans away for a moment to answer. You glance at the clock. 3:47 p.m on a Wednesday. He’s in the middle of his part time shift at the auto shop near his college. ‘He must’ve just been invited if he’s calling me during work hours.’ You finish nibbling on the twizzler in your mouth while you wait, a bit of dread filling your gut as you think about meeting Caleb’s other friends.

You weren’t scared of them, per se. You were just a little—okay, you were a lot introverted. Going outside only seemed like a good time if you were either with Caleb or going on a simple walk. Talking with people has never been something you liked or needed in your life. Too many bad experiences with others—both their fault and yours, depending on the situation—so you mostly keep to yourself. And Caleb’s friends are from college or from the mechanic shop. Places where certain kinds of men reside, and while you won’t just baselessly accuse his friends of being people you won’t get along with, you shied away from interacting regardless. But now…now you didn’t have a choice in the matter. So that meant you had to make at least a decent impression on them, if only to save Caleb some peace of mind.

“Sorry about that, one of the guys had a question about the truck we’re working on.” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your pensive thoughts.

“No worries, you know I don’t mind.” He hums absent-mindedly, before shuffling noises can be heard through your phone speaker.

“What time’s the party?”

“This Thursday night. It officially starts at eight, but people’ll probably start showin’ up at seven-thirty.”

“Oh, alright. I get out at six, if you wanted I could meet you halfway?”

He scoffs.

“I can just pick you up, it’s no big deal. I’ll just make sure to leave a few hours earlier.” You bite your lip, but you accept his decision. You’ve gotten better at that, you think. Following his lead more without questioning him so much.

“Your vacation starts this weekend, right?” You blink. What does that have to do with anything?

“Mhm?”

“Stay the week with me.”

Your eyes widen and you stare blankly out your window, just barely catching your phone as it slips from underneath your chin. You…you stay in his new apartment with him…for a whole week…? You don’t know whether or not you want to scream in delight or pass out in flustered embarrassment. Just thinking about being alone with him in his space for a whole uninterrupted week sends those familiar tingles down your belly to your cunt. You suck in a breath, cheeks feeling hot as your fingers tremble around your phone. Denial sits on the tip of your tongue because if you’re in close proximity for that long you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from doing something incredibly idiotic—

“Please? I miss you, and we already don’t see each other enough.” He doesn’t really beg, but that soft, cajoling tone comes back and it has you caving immediately. Because you’re still one clingy bitch and you do actually miss him like crazy whenever you aren’t near him.

You just hope that you can somehow find the strength to keep yourself together the entire week.

“The whole week, huh. Sure, why not?” You say softly, smiling when that gets you a slightly startled intake of breath. Did he really think you weren’t going to say yes?

“You’re carrying all my bags, by the way. All of them.” You state without hesitation, smile curling into a devious grin.

“...How many bags are you planning to bring?” He asks cautiously, and you only giggle in response.

“You little brat.” He sighs out, but there’s nothing reproachful in his tone. You giggle again before you stop, hearing another voice pipe up from Caleb’s side. You’re a little sad to see him go, but he is technically on work time.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No, no it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow night, then.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, princess.” He murmurs, and you hastily answer him back before the line cuts off. You sigh, bringing the back of your palm to your cheek. You get flustered so easily around him, but you’ve grown to handle it. Somewhat. Kind of. More importantly…

“Do I even have something appropriate enough for a party party?” You wonder to yourself, getting up to shuffle over to your closet. You never needed fancy or ‘nice’ clothes since you were in school, so you highly doubt you have anything on hand that was nice enough. You know Caleb won’t be super picky on the definition of ‘nice’ but…you want to make a good impression.

Ten minutes later you run through your whole closet and you have nothing to really show for it. You found a few hoodies that you’re definitely packing, as well as a couple pairs of fuzzy sweatpants you thought you lost. But nothing in the realm of ‘nice’ that this party required. You sighed a little to yourself, but picked out a week’s worth of clothes and shoved them into a duffel you had stored in the back of your closet. You’d pack the rest of your toiletries and other accessories you needed later. For now, though, you had to make a quick trip down the street. You’re lucky that there’s a relatively nice clothing shop within walking distance.

‘The fucking things I do for that man.’ You smile as you shrug on your jacket and slip on your crocs.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

The soft ‘thump’ of your boots hits the ground rhythmically. You’re pacing a little, trying to get used to the added height the boots give you. While not your first time wearing boots like these, it is your first time wearing them with a skirt. It’s a strangely nice feeling, the gentle tickle of the soft fabric against your thighs, and you can admit you’re kind of obsessed with it. You make one last turn in your boots, almost tripping over a stray snag in your rug before you hastily right yourself.

Stopping in front of the floor length mirror propped against your bathroom door, you give yourself one last once over.

Your long hair flows down your back and chest, the thin braids you did topped off with shimmery white bows, lines of silver chains scattered throughout. Your makeup is simple—black puppy liner, highlighter brushed along your cheekbones and nose, and a thin layer of gloss that makes your lips twinkle a subtle black underneath your lights. Around your neck lies a thick, black choker with a layer of silver chains hooked to it. The real star of the show is your outfit, however. The one that you spent a decent chunk of money getting but one that you’re infinitely proud of.

The black bralette top you’re wearing is thin and stretchy; lined with lace and with a cute skull and bones decal. The top is the slightest bit on the small side, and combined with the sown in padded cups you not only don’t have to wear a bra, but your tits look fucking fantastic. The black skirt you’re wearing has ribbons lining the top like a corset, and cinches your waist in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re suffocating while giving you a nice shape. You paired it with wide-holed fishnet stockings and a pair of calf high, chunky black boots. You adjust the stockings a little, pulling them over the skirt up until they reach high unto your waist. You turn this way and that, cocking your head to the side to review your fit just one more time before Caleb appears. You’re mostly satisfied with it.

The only thing that you would say kind of ruins it for you, though, would have to be…

‘Maybe I should’ve done the oversized look instead.’ Your mood plummets a little when you notice the layer of pudge slightly poke out from the sides of your skirt, as well as your slightly sagging arms. You cross your arms with an aggravated sigh, looking away from the mirror to ignore the imperfections you can see. You were so satisfied before…where did all that confidence go? ‘Wherever the hell my common sense went, that’s for sure.’ You think to yourself with a snarky tone, before you blow out a deep breath. You still have some time, maybe you could go and grab one of the graphic tees you have?

A knock at your door stops you, and you realize you’ve got no more time left. You sigh, lightly patting your cheeks before making your way to the door. You’re more than a little nervous—you feel a little sick, actually, but you’re trying not to think about that. With no time left, all you can do is grin and bear it.

One last breath and you swing the door open.

Your face gets hot when you realize how handsome Caleb looks—black jeans with rips in them and a grey button up hidden beneath an open dark blazer, a few buttons undone to reveal the sharp jut of his collarbones and the silver chain hanging loose—but what really has you flustered is the look on his face when he realizes what you’re wearing. It’s quiet between you two for a long beat as his gaze slowly travels your body from head to toe, something dark and hot swirling in his eyes. You lightly bite the inside of your lip, fingers gripping onto the edge of your door as you watch the rigid line of his body. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, and feeling the tension grow stronger the longer the quiet persists, you hastily try and break the ice.

“C-come in already, silly. Don’t just stand outside, I told you that you’d be helping me with my bags!” You swiftly turn away from Caleb at the door, blush spreading so fast that you’re dizzy from the rush. The look on his face…you shiver just thinking about it. That wasn’t the kind of look you give your best friend—not even close. You try not to let that stop you from gathering your purse and keys, though, heading towards your futon to pick them up. You bend over slightly, stretching out your arm to snag them from the other half of your bedding.

Except you’re a bit too far from the straps of your bag—a cute little thing in the shape of ghostface that you found in that store yesterday that just spoke to you. You huff, pretending like you don’t feel the intense stare burning holes into your back. You do in fact realize the position you’re in; you in your short and flowy skirt, half bent over your layed out futon, the entirety of your lower half nearly exposed. You feel a slight brush of cool air against the backs of your thighs, and feeling a little bold, you slide a knee up onto the futon. The fabric of the skirt slips higher and you snatch the straps of your bag quickly, blushing even hotter when you realize that you just most likely flashed Caleb behind you.

You aren’t that embarrassed about it, oddly enough. The look in his eyes when he saw you…it wasn’t one you’ve ever seen directed towards yourself before. But you can’t say that you’re upset by it, honestly it was a bit of a confidence booster. You…you don’t know the deeper meanings behind the heat in his gaze; you don’t know if it’s just surface level lust or if he thinks of you the way you think of him…but you are going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

Swallowing thickly, you slip the bag over your shoulder to rest across your chest, turning around with a bright smile.

“Ready!”

~~~~~

Caleb might have…miscalculated a bit.

The party was originally a way for him to segue into asking you to come over. He figured you’d give in easily enough and they’d spend a little time chatting in the corner before he’d whisk you back to his place. While he wasn’t certain what you’d be wearing, he also didn’t think it’d be too wild. That broken heart sweater and a pair of your black ripped jeans maybe. Or those new black cargos and the cropped graphic t-shirt of godzilla you adore so much. Something easy, something comfortable. You were being forced into a social situation you weren’t familiar with, so it’d only make sense.

Except you love proving him wrong when he least expects it.

He watches as your skirt swishes around the backs of your thighs, eyes trailing up the slope of your spine as you two walk towards his car. Thankfully, despite your earlier teasing threat, you only had a duffle bag and a book bag filled with your toiletries and other smaller items you wanted to bring—not that he was really worried about anything being too heavy for him to carry. Even if it was, he’d be way too distracted looking at you to feel any real annoyance.

Your hips sway in an unconscious, but sensual rhythm as you walk in front of him, your wild, dark curls bouncing softly, the thin chains in your hair tinkling ever so softly as they clink against one another. His fingers twitch with the sudden urge to tug at a stray braid swaying from the force of your movements, but he dutifully keeps ahold of your bags. He’s determined to keep his distance. If he really gets his hands on you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go long enough for them to leave. It’s difficult, however, when you keep shooting him these nervous little glances from underneath your eyelashes; almost as if you’re expecting him to do something. As if you want him to do something.

‘Not that I can exactly blame her for that. I wasn’t very subtle.’ He muses to himself. When he first saw how you looked, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. He’d never seen you dressed so…boldly before. So much of your skin was on display, so much of your figure bared to his eyes. It took everything in him to not jump on you, but now wasn’t the time. He could have a little patience. It’d make when he finally takes you apart that much sweeter.

“You cold?” He asks after you rub your arms for the nth time coming down from your apartment. You purse your lips, the light from a nearby streetlight catching the enticing shine of your gloss. He pointedly looks into your eyes, as if that will stop him from imagining what your lips would look like wrapped around his fingers.

“I thought it’d be a little warmer out ‘cuz it’s still summer…” Caleb chuckles, fishing inside of his pocket for the keys to his car. You frown at him, lightly smacking his arm when he laughs again.

“Relax, princess. I’ve got a jacket in my car you can use.” He carefully gauges your expression, smirking a little when a glassy sheen covers your eyes. He expects it to quickly disappear—like it always does whenever he throws that pet name out—but it stays. The frown at your lips slacken into something close to a pout, your cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink that spreads to the tips of your ears peeking out from the fall of your hair. You go quiet again, but he leaves you to your thoughts, something forming in his head as he pops open the trunk.

He tosses your bags inside, slamming the back closed a moment later. When he looks up again, you’re poised by the passenger door, shivering slightly as you stare at your reflection in the window. That soft look still lingers in your eyes, and the idea forming inside of his mind solidifies. Caleb calls out to you, and you take a moment to blink before turning your head to face him. He rounds the trunk to the back door of the car, yanking it open and grabbing the jacket left on the back seat.

“Here.” He holds the black bomber jacket open, watching closely as you shuffle over and turn around. He slides it around you, using the hands on your shoulders to flip you back around once you slip your arms through the sleeves. The thing practically drowns your figure, stopping just below where the skirt ends. You look good in his clothes, good enough that he's sorely tempted to just take you home instead of to the party. He has a slightly different plan—one that he thinks will work out just fine.

Looking into your eyes again, and seeing that hazy almost dreamy look, he gently tucks his fist underneath your chin. Using his other hand he guides you to lean against his car. Slowly, he tilts your chin up, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb underneath the swell of your bottom lip, resting his fist above your head.

It has the effect he assumes it would.

Your breath hitches, that cooling blush of yours returning rapidly, coloring your cheeks and nose a splotchy pink. You…melt into the touch on your chin, wide eyes somehow growing bigger as you look up at him. Your hands reach for the edges of his blazer, fingers curling around the thicker fabric. He smiles, stepping in closer so that he can really tower over you, flattening his palm against the cool metal of his car. You stop breathing when he does and he lightly shakes your chin.

“Where are your manners at, princess? What do you say when someone gives you something?” He lowers the pitch of his voice a bit, softening his tone into something sweet yet chiding. You shiver, pupils expanding until a thin ring of your iris is left. Caleb allows the smile he wears to turn the slightest bit mean, relishing when that gets him a high pitched whine.

“C’mon, you know the words.” He raises a brow and gives your jaw another shake. You inhale a trembling breath, blinking slowly before you open your mouth.

“...Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles at the sound of your lovely voice whispering out his name. He would bottle that noise, if he could. Drink it down for the rest of his life and never get tired of it.

“Good girl. You’re welcome to keep that jacket, too. Don’t even have to steal it from me like you do my other stuff.” You only stare at him, lips parted and breaths coming in fast pants. He laughs, slightly mocking as he drags his knuckles up your cheek and down the side of your throat. He allows the contact to last for a few beats, taking in the obvious pleasure on your face, the way your legs shake, how you have to lean against the car to even stay upright. He hasn’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already like this. With one last gentle tap to your cheek, he finally leans back.

“Let’s go. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck in rush hour traffic.”

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You’re floating.

Not literally, but you feel as if you’re walking on air. Not even your natural social anxiety is affecting you now, thick into the crowd of Greyson’s family and friends. Caleb had mentioned a housewarming party, but that’s as far as you know. As far as you care to know, sitting primly on Caleb’s lap as he talks with one of his mechanic buddies—a man whose name you immediately forget once you hear it. The conversation doesn’t last long, maybe ten minutes or so, before the other man is drawn off deeper into the crowd in search of something else to drink.

Once the other leaves, Caleb leans his head against yours and looks down at your phone. You're playing a puzzle app, and he quietly watches you play a game of sudoku, occasionally jumping in when you get a little stumped. His hand curls around your waist, absently rubbing one of your skirt’s ribbons in between his fingertips. The other holds onto a red solo cup—the contents you aren’t a hundred percent certain on. He was nice enough to let you take a sip, but you weren’t a fan of the artificially fruity flavor, nor did you like the kind of alcohol hidden underneath it. Wine is more your speed, and after making a face once, Caleb merely laughed and kept the cup to himself.

You aren’t entirely sure how you ended up sitting on him like this, but you can’t say you mind. It’s nice being cradled close; your back resting in the curve of Caleb’s arm, your legs thrown over his thighs and your head resting on his shoulder. You’re warm—courtesy of Caleb’s jacket hanging off your shoulders—and comfortable. Aside from a few friendly ‘hellos’ by the various friends and acquaintances that stop by your little corner of the living room, no one’s really bothered you and Caleb.

As nice as it is, though, there’s still a worry that’s niggling at the back of your mind. A question of…why. Why did Caleb pull you onto his lap as soon as you two walked in? Why did he touch you like that earlier? Why has he been so intense lately? All of the questions you have float through your mind and it slowly begins to push back that pleasant fog you’ve had since you first walked out of your apartment.

You aren’t stupid. You know that there’s a tension between you two. The kind of tension that leads down a road that you both won’t be able to turn back from, but it’s the why of that tension that’s eating you up inside. Before a few hours ago, you wouldn’t have thought that Caleb was interested in you. But that look combined with his behavior…it’s clear that at the very least he’s attracted to you. But does he want you the way you want him—does he love you the way you love him? You don’t know, and that, you think, is what scares you most.

The fingers on your waist lightly tug at the ribbons in your skirt and you look up at him in question.

“How we feelin’?”

“M’fine. Comfy.” You pause, biting the inside of your lip to avoid getting gloss on your teeth. Caleb immediately catches your hesitation.

“What else?”

“...I’m a little…confused, too.” He doesn’t seem shocked at all, merely waiting with a warm expectant look on his face for you to continue. You open and close your mouth, stopping and starting until you gather the courage to finally ask what’s been on your mind.

“What am I to you?” Your question takes him off guard a bit, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks away for a moment, the shock turning into something deeply thoughtful. His gaze swings back to yours after a few long seconds of silence, a burning intensity lightning up the dusky-purple hues of his iris.

“What am I, to you.”

“Caleb, I’m serious.” You frown, feeling a little hurt that he seems to be making fun, but he just shakes his head.

“So am I. What, or more like, who do you see me as, [✦].” The sound of your name startles you, and you begin to understand that he’s deadly serious.

“Who..?” You trail off, breath hitching when Caleb’s hand cups your cheek. He says nothing more, brushing the pad of his thumb underneath your eye as he waits. Your hand grips your phone tightly, a nervous tremble wobbling your bottom lip. Is he asking…does he want you to speak your feelings? You blink rapidly, feeling the familiar itch at the corner of your eyes.

You’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, and if Caleb wasn’t holding you like this, you think you’d run away immediately. ‘But I’ve already chosen to stop hiding from him. I promised myself that.’ You inhale, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, meeting Caleb’s stare resolutely. You can do this—you can explain to him how you really feel.

He’s asking you to, and how could you bear to deny him like this?

“You’re my best friend,” You reach out and lay your hand on the one holding your face. “You’re the most important person in my life. You drive me fucking crazy all the time with your relentess care. I’m basically spoiled because of you, y’know? Can’t even do anything by myself anymore, I need you around me all the time if I want to have any fun. You…you’ve got to know that you’re my entire world at this point, right? You’ve got to know that I—” You choke on the words, tears pooling in your eyes as your force the phrase your heart has been screaming for so long.

“I love you. I love you so much that it literally makes me fucking stupid.” You throw out with a watery laugh, blinking rapidly to try and salvage your makeup.

With every word spilling from your lips, Caleb’s eyes grow brighter and brighter; the smile playing at his mouth wide and baring the straight whites of his teeth. He’s absolutely gorgeous under the dim lighting of the living room you’re in, and the sight takes your breath away. He’s positively beaming with how brightly he shines, and it takes everything in you not to shake apart when he knocks his forehead against yours and that utter joy gets even closer.

“Then you know exactly how I feel about you.” He whispers, his warm breath puffing against your lips. You can barely believe your ears—it feels like a dream come true. For you to be held in his lap, close enough to see the little indigo flecks in his eyes, to count each individual lash on his eyelids, to see the wonder and love and lust in his eyes as he stares at you deeply.

“You–you do?” You know you sound disbelieving, but this moment truly doesn’t feel real to you.

“That’s so hard to believe, to you? That I’d return your feelings?”

You struggle to answer, struggle to do anything when the hand on your waist tightens, the one cupping your cheek sliding around to thread through the hairs at the nape of your neck. Caleb doesn’t look like he’s expecting an answer, though, his eyes dropping to focus on your parted lips. You flush at the heat in his gaze, swallowing back a groan when his fingers slip higher up your waist, catching on the fishnets and meeting your bare skin.

“I could show you, you know. If you give me a chance.” He murmurs, lightly dragging his nails against your skin. Goosebumps raise along your arms at the thought of him proving his love for you. You…you want that. You want that so much. Something must show on your face because Caleb chuckles, dragging his nose up to your temple to meet your hairline. You feel the soft warmth of his lips against your forehead, an action that makes you shiver.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak as the anticipation rushes through your veins, the spreading warmth of your belly down to the throbbing heat of your cunt.

✦.─────── ☽ ₊‧.°.⋆☽◯☾⋆.°.‧₊ ☾ ───────.✦

You barely make it through his apartment door before he pounces on you.

His hands grip your face as he crowds you against the door, lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You moan into his mouth, your arms lacing around his neck. You scratch your nails lightly through his hair and he groans deeply into your mouth. The sound causes your cunt to pulse and you feel yourself leak against the cotton of your panties.

His palms slide down your neck and then down your sides before they travel around to grip your ass. Within the next moment, you're lifted into his arms, and you scramble to throw your legs around his waist as he blindly moves you toward his bed. You trail kisses down his chin to his throat, lightly sucking on the thin skin there. God, it feels like a fantasy to be here in his arms, getting the privilege to mark him up like this.

“Fuck.” He grunts when your teeth dig sharply into the side of his neck, the hands on your ass squeezing roughly before tossing you onto his bed. You’re panting harshly as your eyes travel up his own heaving chest. The lights in his bedroom are dim, and they cast exaggerated shadows against his tall form. As dark as the room is, though, it does nothing to hide the raw desire in his eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Every inch of bare skin revealed makes you even wetter, and you squeeze your thighs together when he lets the shirt drape open. You shiver, biting your lip as Caleb drops to his knees on the bed, the buckle of his belt jingling as he unloops it from his jeans.

You swiftly follow when you realize you’ve just been staring, tossing off your top to reveal your bare tits to the cool room. Hands shaky from adrenaline and the slight chill, you reach for your skirt next, but stop when you’re suddenly yanked forward by your ankle. Gasping, you fall to your back and are pulled closer to Caleb. He easily positions you partly over his lap, legs spread and half folded over. Your entire body feels hot from that easy display of strength, and you whimper when he leans down to mouth against the side of your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

His first sentence ever since you left the party startles you, but you don’t have time to speak when his teeth dig into your skin. All you can do is gasp out, fingers latching onto his shoulders as he licks over the mark before doing the same to another patch of skin.

“How long I’ve wanted to have you under me, spread out and fucking shaking apart.” Your back arches when one of his hands cup your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers while the other hand slides down to unzip the back of your skirt.

“You looked so pretty tonight, you know that? Almost didn’t let you leave ‘cuz you were just too tempting lookin’ like that.” Those words send a bolt of heat through you, and you want to move against him, but you can’t, bent in half and held down by the bulk of his body.

“S’because of me, yeah? Got all dolled up cause you were going out with me?” You nod, helpless to do anything else when he slowly grinds his clothed cock against you. You can feel the hard ridge even through the layer of his jeans and your skirt, and you moan when you realize how fucking big he is.

“Wanted…wanted you to think I was pretty.” You gasp when the hand on your tit pinches your nipple, shaking when his other hand finishes unzipping your skirt.

“I always think you’re gorgeous, princess. But I don’t mind you dressing up for me. Can get you all the pretty little skirts and tops you want if you model ‘em for me. Only for me.” He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before separating himself slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking up when you chase him. But he easily pushes you back down, closing your legs and yanking off the skirt like it personally offended him. He doesn’t even bother taking off your fishnets or your lacy panties after he spreads your legs around his waist, merely pushing them aside enough so he can stick two fingers inside of your cunt.

“F-fuck…Caleb!” You cry out, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you toss your head back. His words combined with the stretch of his fingers makes you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You’ve never had sex before—the only experience you’ve had were the different toys and dildos you have stashed away in your apartment. Other boys never caught your attention, and you were always able to satisfy yourself just fine on your own so you didn’t think you needed the touch of another. But having Caleb’s fingers inside of you now, pistoning in and out was electrifying and you know that it was going to ruin you when you finally feel him inside of you.

The thought has you suddenly desperate for it, and you weakly paw at the bulge in his jeans. He bucks into your hand with a low groan, the pace he sets with his fingers faltering once you get a semi-decent hold on his cock. He returns to his pace soon after stopping though, using his left thumb to rub against your clit as he slides the fingers of his right hand in all the way and curls them. You jolt at the intense feeling, desperation getting stronger as that coil in your belly tightens further and further.

“Give it to me, please, want it so bad, gimmie it now—” You whine, your other hand tugging at the loose end of his shirt while the hand on his bulge clumsily rubs up and down his dick. You blink the half-formed tears out of your eyes, pleading with your face as you desperately try and get him to listen to you. He spits out something too low for you to hear above the squelching noises of your sopping wet cunt, but you soon forget about that when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you just right.

You jolt hard, legs wildly jerking as a white-hot bolt of heat sizzles its way up your spine. The cry that falls from your lips sounds more like a wounded animal, but Caleb’s eyes are dark with satisfaction. He presses that spot inside of you again, rubbing insistently while he does the same to your clit. You can literally feel your brain melt out of your ears from the dual sensations, hips instinctively jerking up to meet his fingers. You’re on the precipice, riding the edge of that peak but you still aren’t quite there yet and it makes even more tears fall from your half lidded eyes out of frustration.

“You close?” But Caleb’s voice was more statement than question, eyes piercing as he watches you start to break apart underneath his hands. You nod anyway, crying out in protest when he slips his finger out. Only to squeal when he lifts you so that you're balancing on your shoulders, your thighs resting around his neck while he buries his face into your cunt.

You can’t even form words when his tongue traces over your clit, his hands placed on the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping tight enough to bruise. He eats you out without any foreplay, going from sucking on your clit to dipping his tongue inside of your hole, trailing nipping kisses to your inner thighs before he’s right back to licking into your cunt while nosing at your clit. It’s so much stimulation—too much stimulation for you as tears drip down your flushed cheeks. You can feel it coming, your orgasm. It’s in the way you clench on his tongue, thighs wrapped so tightly around his neck that you have to be suffocating him. But, if anything, the fervor he eats you out seems to grow, trialing one of his hands from your thigh to lightly trace over your hole. He slips two fingers back inside again, and using his tongue, fucks your dripping slick back into you. Your orgasm crashes into you when he hits that spot again, eyes rolling into the back of your head as white sparks flash across your vision. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, legs spasming around his waist as you finally come around his fingers.

“Mhm, fuck, that’s it. C’mon, let me have it all, princess.” Caleb’s words ride out on a slight laugh, the vibration of his hoarse voice making your cunt clench around his still moving fingers. The intensity of your orgasm flees, but he’s still thrusting in and out of you. Your voice is shrill when he rubs your clit hard, purposely aiming for that little spot inside of you as oversensitivity wracks through your frame.

“C-C-Caleb—!” You can barely get anything past your crying mouth, hands reaching out to tangle in his hair as he continues to overstimulate you. You somehow get even wetter, the sounds he’s causing between your spread legs are absolutely filthy as they echo out into the dark room.

“You’ve got another for me, don’t you. You wanna be my good girl, yeah? Give me another and I’ll give you what you want.” He licks another stripe from your hole to your clit, fingers rubbing that spot inside of you, pulling back to widen, before thrusting back inside and repeating. Through the haze filling your mind, you can hear the order he gives you. And of course, because you are a good girl for him—his good girl who listens to everything he says—you give him exactly what he wants.

You come for the second time, squeezing so tightly around his fingers that he can’t even move them inside of you anymore when you do. Your back arches off the bed at an insane curve, ragged moans and cries erupting from your hoarse throat before you fall limply back to the bed, hands falling to rest at your sides. ‘Did I…just come on command..?’ You feel tired and wrung out, but that burn of arousal doesn’t fade. Even when the feeling on your clit and in your cunt make you squeal from oversensitivity, you’re still soaking wet.

“Did so well for me, princess. So fucking beautiful when you come. You’’l look even prettier when you’re spread out on my cock–mh, fuck.” Caleb groans, slowly retracting his fingers, watching raptly as your cunt gushes out more slick. You whine out something unintelligible, your entire body shivering from the aftershocks of two orgasms in a row. But still, you dutifully let yourself be manhandled, half lidded eyes lazily tracking Caleb as he bends you in half again. Your eyes lock onto the smears of your cum and slick across his mouth as cheeks, something inside of you strangely warm at the sight of him marked by you.

Caleb’s muttering all sorts of filth about you under his breath as your eyes trail down his chin to his jaw, that satisfaction burning brighter when you notice the hickeys you gave him darken. Your attention is captivated by him as he slips his jeans and briefs down just low enough to pull out his cock. You can see the tip of it from how you’re angled, and the sight causes your cunt to clench and unclench at the thought of finally taking it.

“Fuck, look at you. Prettiest fuckin’ pussy and for my eyes only, yeah? No one else has seen you like this, and no one else will, cuz your little cunt is mine, right? Say it.”

“M-my pussy, s’yours, Caleb. It’s all yours.” You whimper out. Caleb slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, doing it again when you wheeze out a moan. You wiggle your hips as much as you can in your position, wordlessly begging for him to finally fuck into you. He smiles at your desperation, but it’s a far cry from those sweet, gentle smiles he usually gives you. The slant of his smile is mean, his eyebrows rounded out into a condescending expression that makes you gush.

“Need this dick, yeah? Need me to empty that little head of yours—to make that itch go away.” He slaps the tip of his cock against your clit again before trailing it lower, lightly pushing into your hole before slipping it out. He does that a few more times, all with that mean little smile on his face as he watches your desperation turn into more frustrated tears.

“Caleb!” You cry out, tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks. He tsks, leaning over you until the tip of his nose brushes your temple.

“What did I tell you earlier about using your manners?”

You shiver at the warning in his tone, mouth falling open when he trails gentle kisses down the side of your face until he reaches your lips. This close, you can taste yourself covering the lower half of his face, see the sweat that’s beading on his forehead and wetting his hairline, the wideness of his pupils as they eclipse the natural purple of his iris, the flush to his cheeks as he poises himself over you. You do what you always do in front of Caleb when he asks you for something.

You cave in.

“Please, please, please Caleb fuck me. Need you so bad, need you to make me stupid, please, want you—” You choke as he pushes in, eyes rolling back as the stretch of his overwhelms all of your senses. He’s so big that it feels like an eternity before he bottoms out. And when he does, you can feel the tip bump into something smooth and hard deep inside you. You jerk when he brushes that place, hiccuping when he shifts and hits that point again. Something…different is building up inside you, something that doesn’t quite feel like a regular orgasm. But you don’t have the breath to voice that weirdness out loud, not when you’re stuck staring up at Caleb’s slack, wet mouth as he looms above you.

“Thaaat’s fucking it, fuck—” He cuts himself off with a low moan, large hands pressing down on your thighs as he pulls out a little, then pushes back in. You realize that you’re drooling when Caleb leans down to lick it away from the corner of your mouth, the silver chain bumping against your skin and causing goosebumps to raise along your skin. You chase after his mouth with a little whine—you can taste yourself on him and it makes you clench down on his cock. He shivers, groaning before meeting you for a proper kiss, all the while keeping up his slow and deep thrusts. He puts more weight on your thighs as he kisses you deeper, tongue tangling with yours as you shakily reach up to throw your arms over his shoulders.

His cock hits even deeper than before, and you fall back with a drawn out moan, eyes unseeing as he does it again. It’s hard for you to register anything else when all you can focus on is the feel of his dick hitting that wall over and over and over again. Your mouth stays wide open as he slowly but harshly pounds into you, hiccuping breaths exiting you every time he bottoms out. You feel like you’re dying—the heat damn near suffocating you as it spreads like wildfire from your lower belly throughout the rest of your body. It’s too much too soon but you can’t help but love it—love how Caleb feels inside you, love how wild he looks above you, eyes half lidded and mouth parted from the slew of filth he’s spitting at you.

“So fucking tight, princess. Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans out, turning his head to lay biting kisses against one of your calves. Your mouth only drops open wider, hiccuping again when he slides his other hand over to play with your clit. It takes one, two, three rubs before you’re clenching down again. White noise fills the space between your ears as you come for the third time on his cock, except you feel something else come out of you.

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting all over him, the wetness slipping down your thighs and his dick to wet the sheets below. You don’t realize much of anything past that point. Not the fact that Caleb jerks his hips forward as he finally came. Not the fact that he bit down hard on your calf as he did so. Not the fact that his other hand kept rubbing your clit, causing even more liquid to squirt out of you.

Nothing else mattered in your mind at that moment. You were floating, weightless and thoughtless in a fog so dense that you couldn’t see a thing. It was freeing. It was so, so fucking peaceful that you almost didn’t want to leave. But there was someone coaxing you back with sweet kisses and large, warm hands. So you slowly but surely woke from that fog, blinking your puffy eyes open to see Caleb staring down at you in slight concern.

“Back with me, princess.” You nod, but it feels like your head weighs about a hundred pounds when you do.

“Mhm.” You hum when it’s clear that he’s waiting for a verbal answer. The smile you get is worth the slight discomfort of using your voice, though.

“Here, drink some of this water and we can go to sleep.” You blink again as he helps you sit up, holding onto a glass of lukewarm water with a purple bendy straw. You drink as much water as you can, and are slightly surprised when you end up finishing the whole glass. Caleb laughs a little at your bewilderment, but soon he’s bundling you up in his arms.

You two lay back down and get comfortable on clean sheets—something you don’t think too much of at the moment. You lean into Caleb’s heat as he spoons you from behind, sighing when he slides one arm underneath your head. That arm locks around your neck in a chokehold, while his other limb securely wraps around your waist, hand resting low on your stomach.

“Goodnight, princess.”

“G’night.” You whisper, pressing one last sleepy kiss against the bicep against your cheek before you allow darkness to encroach on your vision.

#owlettie's works #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb love and deepspace #caleb smut #caleb

164 notes · View notes

redwinelew · 2 days ago

Text

too busy being yours | lewis hamilton

teammate + driver!reader

summary inspired by hozier's cover of do i wanna know

word count 4.4k

warnings 18+ content. angry/hate sex. choking. oral (f receiving), praise kink. kinda angsty a bit. i tried to make this neutral so it could be mercedes!lewis or ferrari!lewis. unedited bcs i couldn't be bothered. many grammatical errors. english is not my first language.

author's note i hate how fucking long this is bcs it was supposed to be a short blurb but i got too carried away as i always do. this fic drained me so idk if it's any good but i hope u guys enjoy

masterlist | requests are CLOSED!

this is just sex, you said to yourself the first time lewis was fucking you after your overtake in miami causing him to lose his chance at getting a podium.

"you kept pissing me off since the day we met, you know," he said as he wrapped his large inked hand around your throat, your head turned to one side and your cheek pressed hard floor of his driver's room.

a tear escaped your eyes as they rolled back, his cock ramming into you. he gave you so little time to adjust to his size and it burned. he was bigger than anyone you have ever taken, combined with the way he was choking you, the brutal pace of his cock ramming inside you, it was pain mixed with pleasure. you never felt like this is with anyone else, and it made the experience better all together.

"so— you couldn't— fuck. you couldn't stop— thinking about me since then? is that what— you're saying?" you sassed him back.

he almost didn't make you cum that day.

for some reason, somehow you have always expected things to end like this between the two of you. not that you think about him bending your knees to your chest and fucking you hard until you see stars and all you could think about was how deep he is inside you on daily basis but it has become some fort of tradition for you two to get on each other's nerves every week, and he looks like the type who would let out his frustration with sex. it was like it was bound to happen.

the second time it happened, you tell yourself that he was just trying to make you feel better, after you crashed against alex albon in japan.

"let me take care of you." he assured, sinking to his knees in your hotel room's floor. his hands were spreading your legs wide for him to bury his face in between them.

you propped yourself on your elbows, wanting to watch him and you swore you never thought he could be this gentle with you after what happened in his driver's room. his thick lips smeared long, wet kisses all over your thighs, eyes stay locked with yours, taking in your reaction. your chest heaved and you released a shaky breath, throwing your head back the moment his tongue dived into your sensitive parts.

he was going slow, careful of your injuries but not too slow that he was depriving you of that high. his tongue moved in the most articulate ways, fingers pumping in and out like he just knew what would makes you click and shatter. as if he was already a pro at at the art of pleasuring you, despite this being his first time putting his tongue on you.

"i want to hear you," he lifted his head for a split second to say, half a whisper after he noticed how you were, how you were biting your bottom lip, trying to suppress the sinful sounds from escaping your lips.

"someone— might hear—"

"i wanna hear you." he repeated, firm but gently. "please, sweetie. i wanna hear you fall apart for me."

when your eyes met his, somehow it was clear that this was not the same man who had fucked you hard on the floor of his driver's room a few weeks ago. his eyes were different. you hoped your own were not deceiving you because you could swore it was filled with a different kind of lust compared to the first time.

noticing your hesitation, he took your hand and brought it to his head, gesturing you to guide him by grabbing his braids.

"come on. show me what you like. i want to know."

"i want to know."

you wanted to argue that he didn't have any reason to. why should he know how to eat you out until your body shook from pleasure and your eyes see stars? why should he know how to flick his tongue in ways that would make his name the only word you could remember? having lewis hamilton, the seven time formula 1 world champion on his knees with his head in between your legs is not something that would ever happen again, no.

but you found yourself spreading your legs a little bit further, trying to make your body relaxed and comfortable on the hotel bed. you gathered his braids since his hair tie has gone somehow, and he let you. he dived back to your clit, and groaned, loving the way you guided him in order to help you reach your peak.

he made you cum twice with his tongue and fingers. then with his cock, and again it was different from the first time. he let you stare into his big brown eyes, his braids hung like curtains on either side of his face as his bare frame towered over your naked body, your legs locked around his waist.

he was thrusting into you slow and deep, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him, to draw those little gasps of yours he was starting to get obsessed with. he wanted to see your eyes flutter as he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one that would make you utter his name like a prayer.

you tried to focus more on the pleasure he was bringing and less on the fact that this felt like he was making love to you. because it couldn't. that word should be forbidden from both your lips and his. this was not love. he was only fucking you this slow and this gentle because you got into a crash. he was afraid he could cause more serious injuries to you even though there wasn't even any to begin with.

the third time, it was after you and him achieved podium together but that race was a bit different than the other. a historic 1-2 at your team's home race, the first since you joined the team. a win with lewis here was something you were determined to happen since the beginning of the season and it finally came true.

your lips never lacked a smile since you crossed the checkered flag with lewis behind you. the long, tight hug that you two shared, especially the way he was burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hand rubbing your back and the way tears were streaming down your cheeks were definitely one of the most talked-about topics among fans that week. but you couldn't care any less. a lot has happened for you personally. you were unable to give your 100% when the season starts, and a bunch of DNFs and crashes did not help your case either. podium started to feel like a distant dream. you thought about the fact that your contract was ending this year and had not been renewed yet. you needed this win and thankfully it proved something to the team. you wanted them to forget about finding a new driver to replace you next year because the old you were still here. struggling with a new car design is something common among formula 1 drivers. lewis knew it all too well.

that is why he cannot stop praising you that night.

"you did great, sweetie. you were amazing." he said with each slow thrust of his cock, earning soft sighs from your lips. his strong arms were cradling your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"you— you were great too." you said, trying to redirect it to him, hating the way your cheeks grew warm at his praise. you've spent so much time arguing and getting on each other's nerves that being praised by him felt strange though not unwelcome. in fact, you hated how much you loved it. hated how it was the only thing that you crave to hear from his pretty mouth from now on. no more bickerings. no more quick retorts. just his sweet tongue making you feel good about yourself, verbally and physically.

"no, no. this is about you. you did great. you deserved every bit of this. don't you?" you delt him slowing down. you bit your bottom lip, too overwhelmed by his intense gaze to say anything.

"i asked you a question, sweetie." he demanded an answer, keeping his tone soft. his voice was barely a whisper.

"i— mhmm.... please.... move." was all you could say instead as you turned your head, trying to hide from his gaze. you never felt so small. this feelings burned.

"answer my question, first. you did great, didn't you? sweet girl?"

you whimper pathetically at the new nickname, letting him grab your chin to meet his eyes once again.

"i didn't..... early on. i wasn't doing good." you say quietly. you don't know why that was in your mind at the time. you should be enjoying the day, that moment. your win, the way he was filling you up to the brim. nothing else matters. what more could you asked for?

except maybe more assurance from him. that this win was not because of luck. was purely your hard work. was because you fucking deserved it.

"that's normal, sweetie. they made a lot of upgrades and improvements this year, didn't they? it's normal to take time to readjust to some changes. don't beat yourself up for it. you're a great driver. everybody knows that. i knew it."

why the fuck do you feel like a rookie right now? you didn't need to hear all that. you've been in this sport for years. you've moved teams, dealt with the fact that you had driven and struggled with far shittier cars. but why did lewis' words make you feel slightly better, deep down? why did he make me feel relaxed enough to unclench your jaw and to drop your tensed shoulders? how did he know exactly what you needed to hear? how did he manage to read you so well?

"y-yeah." you nod breathlessly, agreeing, especially when he finally moved his hips again, but it wasn't enough to make you reach that peak again and he knew it.

"repeat after me: i deserve this."

"lewis—"

"say it or you're not cumming tonight."

you swallowed, lips trembling. as threatening as it soundes, you knew lewis didn't mean that. but still, he's a man of his words. you didn't want to risk the perfect night you and him are having.

and maybe, just maybe, you start listening to his words. you start pushing away all those negative thoughts that were trying to drown your victory today.

"i...." you take a deep breath. "i deserve this."

"louder." he demanded again as he shifted between your hips, gripping your thighs tighter, his eyes never wavered from yours.

"i deserve this." you did as he commanded, with a much firmer tone, like you really mean it.

because you did. you fucking deserve this win. this team. this life. him.

"you did great today." lewis started fucking you again deeply, not hurried with his pace.

"i did great today." you gasped.

"that's my good girl."

you're his good girl.

he kissed you that night, for the first time ever, which surprised you when you thought about it again. the first time you two fucked, you never get to so much as a glance at his lips because of the position he got you in. second time, the thought did cross your mind, making you wonder how would his lips which was sucking on your clit at the time felt when they're pressed against yours instead. how he would devour you like you're all he needs to survive. how his tongue would taste in your mouth.

and it was sweet. long and passionate. better than your wildest dreams. it felt so natural, the way his lips moved against yours in a perfect synchronization. as if they were made to have this dance together.

you whimpered into his mouth when you came, and he drank it all up, swallowing your cry, big hands cupping your cheeks. it was heaven.

until you fell back to earth, to reality, when you realized that like every other thing in this world, what you have with lewis right now, whatever the hell he wants to call it, it will not last forever.

how long are you two going to keep this up? pretending like you hated each other's guts during the day, only to be tangled up under the covers at night? how long until everybody in the garage, fans on the internet notice your stolen glances? how you two always tries to stand a few feet apart, not because the mere sight of each other disgusted you both, but because you are afraid that you were not able to keep this facade up any longer. that you might say fuck it and jump to each other's arm to celebrate another podium. or rushing to ask your race engineer if the other was okay after a crash.

you remembered an interview lewis did. with which magazine, it doesn't matter but what he talked about was. that he wants to have a family, to have kids. it sticks in your mind, every word in the article you already have them memorized. only one question is left.

is that woman you, or is this just another fling to him?

you need to know, need to put an exact label to this thing you get going on with lewis right now or else it might drive you crazy. you cannot keep letting him in, cannot let him whisper another one of those promises in your ear, each time you let him have his way raw with you, if they all meant nothing to him. he might not seem like the type, but you cannot let yourself lost in the uncertainty. better to end this now before it's too late.

you glanced at his sleeping figure on your right on your hotel bed. another night spent together, without knowing where this stands for him. was it all just for fun, his way to release his frustration? it'd be fair, since you never exactly made it easy for him to have you as his teammate. or did it actually mean something to him, deep inside, only he is too afraid to say it?

you shift to your side, staring at his beautiful face. you snuggle up closer, tangling up your legs with his under the covers, needing to go feel his heat, as if this is the last time you will ever get to be this close to him.

it could be.

your hand goes to push his braids behind his ear, cupping his cheek before running your rhumb across his cheekbone and he stirs a bit, a sigh left his thick lips and you feel his hand on your hip tenses a little before he relaxes again. he's absolutely breathtaking, when the pressure of winning his eighth championship isn't occupying his mind. the way his long lashes flutter in his sleep. two piercings decorating his nose. giant lion tattoo on his chest exposed, besides the most obvious parts down there, all for you to see.

something inside you cannot help but wonder.... do other girls get to see him like this too? how many of them? do they get to touch him like this as well? does he enjoy it? does he whisper to their ears the same thing as he did to you?

your heart clenches but then you quickly tell yourself. of course he does. of course they do. it would be a fool of you to think otherwise. who do you think you are, besides a teammate who has been giving him a hard time ever since you two were paired together? a woman he's using to release all of his frustration on? you are nothing but those. do not think that the great formula 1 champion lewis hamilton would make an exception for you. do not pretend like this "relationship" would have a future.

but then, another part of your brain reminds you, trying to ease your nerves. he wouldn't stay every night, probably wouldn't even let you have your orgasms, wouldn't even think about getting on his knees for the woman he hates with every fiber of his being, if this was meaningless for him.

you wanted to move, when he suddenly stirs again. a groan left his lips.

"what time is it?" he asks in that deep, sleepy tone of his, eyes still shut. his accent is always more apparent in the morning.

"almost seven." you say flatly, removing your hand from his face, laying on your back again, your face turns away.

lewis senses the shift in your behavior somehow. his thick eyebrows meet in a knot, before his eyes open. he lays on his back as well, stretching his body a bit, feeling every single muscle in his body sore, before sitting on the bed. you take a peak at him, the way his muscular body bathe in the sunlight seeping through the room through the gaps between the curtains. he takes his hair tie from his wrist, gathering his braids before tying them back together again lowly. his tattooed back visible to you, with lightning-shaped patterns caused by your sharp nails from last night. you bite your lip at the sight, at your poor, desperate attempt to mark him as yours.

it's useless.

he will never be.

a deep exhale escapes from his lips before he glances at you momentarily, eyes raking over the visible outline of your naked figure under the white covers, taking in your sudden cold demeanor.

"did i hurt you?" lewis asks, voice laced with concern.

yes, in a way, you wanted to say. but instead you keep quiet. wouldn't it be nice if you could just freeze, trying not to move, and you'd shrink, disappear from here forever? not having to face him anymore, nor that one painful fact that you have tried to forget. if only life is easy that way.

he calls your name, gently, and it still feels foreign to you, the way your name leaves softly from his lips. you were used to him barking, hissing it. like your name is poisonous, disgusting to him in the garage. never would you have thought he would whispers it so calmly, moaning it even.

he calls again, and you cannot ignore him this time. you turn your head, meeting his eyes tiredly.

"i'm fine—"

"no, you're not." he cuts you off, and it almost angers you. how would he know how you really feel? he doesn't know anything about you besides how to make you come. he doesn't know your favorite food, your favorite colour. you want him to stop pretending like he's got you all figured out.

"i...." you sigh. "i don't wanna talk about this right now, please."

lewis raises an eyebrow. "you know that answer will only make me even more curious now, right? just tell me."

when you stay silent, still refusing to meet his eyes, lewis tries to guess himself.

"is it about last night? did i hurt you? please, tell me. i can't...." his sentence trails away when you shake your head slowly at his guess.

you bite your lip again, harder, before sitting up as well, pulling the white covers to conceal your bare chest. your eyes stare into a corner blankly, nails scratching the back of your neck as your mind tries to put together the words you have been dying to say to him ever since what happened in his driver's room.

"it's not just last night.... it's the previous nights. it's every other night we spent. together. i don't...." you gulp thickly, suddenly at loss for words. you have been thinking about this moment for so long, you hate yourself for not being able to be straight now.

"sweetie...."

"what are we, lewis?"

pause.

"what?" he asks back, his face all scrunched up, eyebrows tie up like he didn't even process your question.

you take a deep, shaky breath, before finally, finally looking at him in the eyes.

"i mean, what are we? what is this?"

"what is wha—" he chuckles with a nervous look on his face, probably wondering what the hell has gotten into you this early in the morning that made you asked these questions.

you try your best not to roll your eyes at his clueless face. you wish he could just skip these acts, pretending like he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about. you want to move to the part where he confirms what you have known all this time.

"please, just be honest with me. i don't want to waste my time anymore and i'm sure you—"

"no, hey— wait a second. what is this— what the hell are you—"

"i asked you first!" you say impatiently, raising your voice a little, which startles lewis but you wish you could say that you care. every second spent with him feels like you should have been using it to do something else, with somebody else and you might have a future with.

"what are we, lewis?" you repeat, firmly this time and louder so the question seeps through his mind.

pause.

"all these nights we've spent together.... did they mean anything to you? like at all? i need you to be honest with me because if this is all just for fun to you then you can find someone else—"

"i don't want someone else." he cuts you off. the suddenness of it combined with the firmness of his voice catches you off guard. but you are not about to let it distract you.

"well that's too damn bad because i'm not here to be one of your girls—"

"me neither." a beat. "i just want you to be the only girl."

pause.

"what the hell does that mean?"

"it means...." a sigh from him. "that i am a coward who should have told you how i really felt from the beginning."

his voice is getting shakier as he continues. "you drive me crazy since you first joined this team but then i realized that i love how it feels, as long as it was you who makes me feel this way."

you gulp at his smooth words, trying to keep yourself together. this is lewis hamilton, 7 times formula 1 world champion. his name itself is bigger than the sport. he knows how to make people fall to their knees in his presence. you do not want to be one of them, cannot allow yourself to be.

lewis takes a deep breath, and you find yourself holding yours.

"the only kind of girl i want you to be is mine."

pause.

"you...." you shudder. "you can't just say that. like it means nothing."

part of you are relieved somehow that he feels that way. that this was not meaningless to him. but you did not expect another type of feeling to enter the conversation. or maybe you did, only you refuse to think about it. because the mere thought of lewis falling in love with you as this goes on feels impossible to happen.

"i wouldn't if that's the case." he says, quick and confidently. "I'm in love with you, sweetie."

"i...." he stammers suddenly. "it's been a while since i was in love, i almost forgot how it feels. it was after our team's home race that i realized it. that night. it felt good to be like that with you. i remembered how i wanted to spend every night like that with you. not just the sex but the lengthy conversations we had after. and the way you felt in my arms when you fell asleep, i.... i just want to hold you like that every night. i can't get enough. you've made me a mad man, love."

oh, love.

you chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say, how to react. you didn't expect a confession, never would have dreamt of those four letter words to leave his lips while talking to you. mine. love.

or maybe you did. you think about moments that you two spent alone together, besides having him inside you that you shared and you find yourself loving every single second. sharing stories, your passions. you realized how much you enjoy hearing his rambles and wishing that you could hear more, that he would share more. something deeper, more personal.

"we can't." you say without thinking.

lewis clenches his jaw, huffing in frustration.

"why not? because you think the team wouldn't approve? or the fans?" he quickly guesses, like he already knew the excuses you'd give.

"i'd only accept rejection from you if you yourself do not want this. not because of the team or our publicists or— or the fans. because who cares what those people have to say? this is our lives, not theirs. do not let other people dictate how you feel." he says firmly.

"i'm not." you retort just as fast. "because i do feel the same."

you see how he releases a heavy breath after hearing your own confession, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulder. a relief.

"i just need to know if you are serious about going public. it's a big step. how long have we been rivals publicly? and then suddenly we're dating? how would that look?"

he smiles tinily.

"i'm sure it wouldn't be a surprise to them. maybe deep down they know you've always wanted me."

"oh, me?" you roll your eyes at him while pointing at yourself. "alright, sir lewis 'you've made me a mad man' hamilton. sure. i wanted you first. definitely not the other way around."

he chuckles this time, his white teeth on full display before he closes the distance between you two.

"keep talking and i'll show you how mad you truly have made me." he says in a low, sultry voice.

and you did. and he kept his promise. you two ignored the fact that you have a qualification today, or how purposely loud you are being. you know you'd be too embarrassed to actually face the other drivers who stay in this same hotel after today but when lewis was fucking you deep and slow but hard as a way to prove his devotion to you, you cannot exactly say that you care about anything else in that moment.

267 notes · View notes

cacodaemonia · 2 days ago

Text

This thread from a few months ago has a ton of branches where people added screenshots and other info about scammers who targeted them, so I recommend checking those out if you're unfamiliar with this nonsense.

Anyway, I just got a DM on Tumblr from another one, which is new for me. I clocked it from the first messages, and once I looked at their Tumblr account, I was 100% sure it was another of the same sort of scammers. So I thought I'd share screenshots of the DM and the person's hilariously clumsy responses (seriously though, watch out for these dirt bags)

Okay, pretty standard script so far. But I had some free time today, and if you know me, you know I like to fuck with scammers and waste their time...

Come on man, you are killing me here! The laziness! Also, as soon as they go off script, they turn into 13 year-olds dudebros. Without fail.

Mind you, this is the fic I just posted this morning, and these dickbags always go after new fics/chapters, so there's yet another obvious red flag. but at this point, I was just very excited to see how they were going to explain niche clone trooper characters and the intersection between self-harm and pain kink 🤣🤣

Booo, boring 😔 Also, the second title they listed was... you guessed it. The second-most-recent thing I posted.

Man, chatGPT really turned the first bit of the fic into something from a bland listicle. Too bad it didn't get to the smut!

At this point, they FINALLY gave up. Like shit man, how long were you gonna keep digging that hole? 🤣 Anyway, I had a good time fucking with them and wasting their time, so hopefully this is useful for some folks!

AO3 / ff.net + Artstation 'concept artist' scam

FYI, I personally know two people who got scam comments from the same AO3 account today alone. They were very similar to the ff.net comments in this reddit post, and go something like:

As a concept artist, I really enjoyed your story! The characters were compelling, and the plot kept me engaged from start to finish. Your writing has so much depth, and I could really envision the world you’ve created. While reading, I got some ideas for potential artwork to bring your characters or key scenes to life. I’d love to chat more about a possible collaboration if you’re interested

The main difference between this and a previous wave of similar comments is that this is from a logged-in account as opposed to a guest.

I can't send a support ticket because I haven't gotten any comments from this particular account. Obviously, AO3 volunteers don't need to be flooded with more support tickets right now, anyway, and I'm sure other people have already reported this user. But do yourself a favor and just block Evelynaddison92 on AO3 like I'm about to. The account is 100% a scammer, and there are certainly more accounts like this on AO3, but that's the only one I know of atm.

#scam #internet scams #scammers #ao3 #tumblr dms #long post

2K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 23 hours ago

Text

A Man Called Danger 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can't be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I saw a photoshoot and lost my mind.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sigh and set the phone down, tilting your head back as you close your eyes. Exasperation, frustration, helplessness.

This is why you never had kids of your own. Your own teenage years were tough enough. Well, life has continued to shout that lesson in your face; things don’t always turn out how you expect. Or how you want.

Let her make her mistakes, you tell yourself. No, no, you can be passive in your own life but you took on this responsibility. You can’t just wait and see how it turns out. Not like your mother did. She only got lucky you didn’t end up on a corner or like her.

You take a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mother taught you many lessons without meaning too. Men, kids, all that domestic stuff is just a trap. You’re better off without having to figure out the mistakes of others.

That’s why you did this right? Because you want your sister to learn the same thing, to avoid the consequences of youth and short-sightedness. To escape that family curse that keeps you so cautious.

You grab your jacket from the front door. She’s nineteen. Nineteen. An adult. You’re not her mother. No, but you won’t let it happen. Not to her. Not to that baby you spent your nights bottle-feeding as your mother spent her stipend at the bar or drove around with Robbie from down the street.

It’s underhanded. Not what you should do. Not respectful at all but after the last time, you couldn’t let it go. You open the app on your phone. The dot that is your sister’s phone pings in the map. You zoom in and squint as you stand on the doormat. Really?

You lock the front door and come down the front steps. The deep blue evening is starless as only the yellow street lights offer clarity. Oh, everything is clear. The apple is not falling very far.

You drop your phone in the cup holder and turn the engine. The grumpy old Honda chugs to life and the stick cranks loudly as you put it in reverse. You don’t have much but you have the one thing you always craved; stability. You manage with what you have.

You ease your foot off the pedal as you catch yourself speeding down the forty zone. You idle at the sign before turning onto the next street. You make a zigzag onto the main road. Your nape itches with impatience. How the hell did she get all the way out there, anyway?

You grip the wheel and snarl at the windshield. You’re not a mother. You don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You were raised to be wary. By the time your sister came around, your mother wasn’t present enough to make much of an effort or impact. You suppose neglect can be just as lingering as resent.

You keep one hand on the wheel as you chew your thumb. For all your attempts to avoid this fate, you find yourself where you didn’t want to be. Maybe not technically or even legally, but you’re stuck cleaning up this mess.

You pull up to the bar at last. Take a breath. You are not an angry person. Not like your father. Yes, the surge comes from time to time but you control it. You repress it until it’s only a flicker in your stomach.

You get out and lock your phone. You pocket your keys as you approach the door. Nearly wenty years since you’ve been in a bar, never of your own volition. You stare up at the marque.

You were the same age as your sister then. The place was glowing and hazy. You entered to the clink of bottle and the buzz of the old juke box. Darts pounded into the bullseye and cues clacked on solids and stripes. Your mother was there hanging off a greasy man in flannel. She was too drunk to answer your question as you held her child on your hip.

“Mom, where’s the money?”

It fades away with the voice from your left. The man stands with arms crossed, “ma’am, you can go in. I don’t needa see ID.”

You shake your head and make yourself enter. Your reluctance slows you along with the overwhelming wall of noise. Voices all around, music, glass meeting each other and tabletops, laughter, coughing, and snarling. The dim is lit only by the bulbs beneath the black shades, hanging from the ceiling. You squint to see through the glazed din.

This isn’t your place. This is never what you would do for fun. Drinking, talking to strange men, spending what free time you have rotting away in this pit.

You hear a familiar octave. Eva trills with laughter. Not that sardonic snort she gives you when you try to offer her some sense, no, that tinkling noise she uses when she wants something. It’s not a surprise, there aren’t too many reasons for a girl her age to be here.

You find her along the bar. She sits sideways on a stool, one leg draped over the other. She’s everything you’re not old. Young, slim, and tall. You never grew much after eighth grade and you can’t do anything to stop time from its work.

You cross the bar as the man next to her chortles and winks at her. His hand is on her stool, just by her hip. He looks about your age. You grit your teeth.

You’re not brave or bold. You learned to survive by staying out of the way but you can’t just walk away from this. You know what older men want from women half their age.

You clear your throat as you come up next to them. Eva ignores you as the man sends you a sneer, “can I help you?”

You cross your arms. You’re not good at confrontation. Not with strangers and definitely not with men.

“Eva,” you focus on your sister, “I’ve been waiting for you--”

“Don’t pay attention to her,” she flutters her fingers.

“Eva. You said you’d be home at eight--”

“Ugh, you’re not my mother, okay? We both know where she is so just go away,” she snarls. She’s drunk. When she’s a few deep, she gets mean.

“She’s grown,” the man insists.

“She’s my sister, I’m talking to her,” you turn so your back is to him and you’re almost between them. “Eva, I got that job lined up for you--”

“She said fuck off,” the man growls. You tune him out.

“It’s good. You can take the year to build the reference then apply to the community college--”

“You’re embarrassing me,” she hisses.

“Would you get out of here?” The man pushes you so hard you stumble. You hit a table and gasp as the edge jams against your ribs. The people sat their grumble at you for spilling their drinks.

“Johnny!” Eva cries out. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You told her to get off,” he sneers.

“Yeah, but you can’t just do that,” she whines.

You steady yourself and apologise to the patrons at the table. You hug your middle and swallow down the pain. You swore you would never be pushed around by another man.

You turn and march up to the creep. “You feel big picking on women? Huh? You feel like a man going after teenagers? Cause a woman your own age wouldn’t put up with you?”

Eva tugs on your arm and says your name, “please, don’t. What are you doing?”

“Do it again,” you goad. The words come out naturally.

You’re shocked by yourself but your reticence is dulled by that hereditary spark. That flame you’ve been tamping out for decades. Not like him. You are not him.

“Pfft, don’t be a bitch. You already cockblocked me.”

“No, you want to pick on me, pick on me.” You spit.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you here?” Eva snivels.

‘Why are you here?’ Your mother drunkenly slurs. ‘I’m just having some funnnnnn.’

You stare at her. Eva wriggles and cries on your hip. You hush her, trying to comfort her. She’s hungry. You don’t have anything left in the can.

‘Mom, that money was for her. Mom, where is it? Give it back.’

She chuckles and caresses the head of the man she sits on, “go talk to Chuck at the bar, he might give you a refund.’

Your name draws you out of the past. Eva shakes you as you snarl at the man. Your hands ball to fists.

“There a problem?” A gravelly timbre undercuts your rage.

Eva babbles again.

“Walker,” footsteps stomp closer and Eva pulls you out of the way.

You watch as a dark-haired man pulls the blond from atop the stool. He has him by the scruff, “what’d I tell you about fighting?” He glances at you then the foamy spill leaking onto the floor from the table as a server tries to sop it up. “You hitting women in my joint?”

You quake with anger. This man thinks he’s a saviour. You don’t need him to defend you. In here, they’re all the same.

“You better not come back,” the brunette growls and hurls the blond onto the floor. “This is the last time I’m tossing your ass out.”

You watch the man’s shoulders strain the leather of his jacket. He’s broad, taller than you, like most, and about your age. He faces you. His hair is pushed back, the tails winging out behind his nape, his beard is thick and laced with silver, and he wears a golden medallion around his neck. His blue eyes scour you and Eva.

“You alright?” He asks with a stitch in his forehead.

“Just fine. Leaving,” you say as you twist your hand around to grab Eva’s arm instead.

“I don’t put up with that in here. I saw that man up on your daughter and I shoulda stopped it earlier,” he intones.

You scoff.

“Look, you can have a drink on the house--”

“I don’t drink,” you show your palm. “Excuse me.”

You step around him and drag your sister with him. Under the ripple of anger, is fear. These men are dangerous. You forgot that at some point. Don’t ever forget that. You just wish Eva could see the same.

You take her to the car as she stumbles in her heels. You open the passenger door and let her go. She gets in and you resist the urge to comment on her outfit. She can wear short skirts and crop tops, she’s an adult, but it’s too cold to not have a sweater.

You go around and get in the driver seat. You sit there and stare at the wheel. You close your eyes and inhale.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Eva,” you snip and open your eyes. You brace the wheel as you look at her. “You saw what that man did. I’m a woman with no value to him, so when he loses interest, what do you think happens to you?”

She mopes and looks at her lap. She twirls her thumbs round each other and sniffles. “I was only having fun.”

“You can’t find someone your own age? Or maybe a hobby. Try the library,” you run your hands over your forehead. “I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to act like your mother, I want to be your sister. I want you to do better.” You slap your hands down on your legs. “You can make your decisions however you like but I just want you to think before you do.”

“I’m sorry--”

“You’re sorry. Again. You keep doing it,” you relent and slacken against the seat. “You’re not a kid. We both have to accept that.”

You jam the keys in the ignition and turn. You sit up and peer around the lot. Your eyes snag on the figure standing in the glare of the marquee. That man in leather with the medallion. He watches calmly.

You lean on the gas and steer around the lot. As you come closer to the bar, he waves with two fingers and winks. You frown and put your attention ahead of you. You just want to go home and go to bed.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #biker au #series #a man called danger #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #captain america #winter soldier #avengers #au

188 notes · View notes

wooataes · 2 days ago

Text

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part 11)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Hanahaki!AU, angst, all hurt no comfort, swearing, tears, the usual 🙂‍↕️

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: It has been WAY too long since I've updated this story and I apologise for that 🙂‍↕️ I finally feel like I've gotten my life back on track to finally be able to post a long awaited update!! Thank you to everyone who still reads and enjoys my fics, it means a lot ! 🥹 - Tae 💜🌸✨

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Ask to be added to my taglist!

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“His girlfriend left him, genius. What do you think is wrong with him?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. His housemates have as much subtlety as an earthquake. Their naturally loud voices seep through the closed door of his bedroom as he stares at his ceiling, a sigh leaving his lungs in the darkness as the outside voices drone on.

“Hyung,” Mingyu sighs. “It’s been over a week now… Should we call someone?”

“Who would we call?” Junhui retorts. “His soulmate? Because up until last week, I thought his soulmate was Ji-ah.”

The mention of her name creates another pit in Jihoon’s stomach. He hates it. He wishes he could just get over the stupid emotions that run through his veins at the mere thought of his not-soulmate, now also not-girlfriend.

“His parents are hours away and he has no siblings that we can contact.” Junhui continues, frustration laced in his voice. “I don’t know who we could call.”

“Doesn’t hyung have a cousin who-”

“I can hear everything you guys are saying. You know that, right?”

Jihoon’s hard voice carries through the door, his housemates falling silent on the other end.

“Jihoon-ah.” A deep voice mutters, causing him to tense up. He knows that Wonwoo knows how to get through to him. “Can we talk?”

After a long pause, Jihoon’s bedroom door slightly creaks open. “Wonwoo, I told you yesterday,” he stares at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with the older man. “I am fine-”

“You are not, Jihoon-ah. And we both know it.”

“How do you know?” He snips.

“You haven’t left your bedroom since Ji-ah left you last week.” Jihoon sucks his teeth at her name.

“I never left my bedroom before she left me.” He hisses back.

“Yes, you did.” Wonwoo retorts back.

“When? To go on dates with her?” he barks. “To take her out? To go visit her family? Well, guess what? She is gone, Wonwoo, so I have a whole lot more free time and I choose to spend that time at home.” his voice cracks slightly, bottom lip shaking as he moves to close the door once more, his frown deepening as Mingyu grabs a hold of the door before it closes.

“Hyung, we’re sorry.” Mingyu’s voice is softer now as he looks at him with sad eyes. “We’re so fucking sorry that you’re going through this but we are here for you and want to be there for you.”

“I don’t need-”

“Please don’t push us away.” Wonwoo frowns, his hand resting over Jihoons. “Jihoon-ah…”

Jihoon shakes his head quietly, a small hiccup leaving his lips. “Wonwoo, I promise, I’m fine.” He gently lets his hand fall from Wonwoo’s as he moves to shut the door to his bedroom once more, wiping the stray tears that threaten to spill from his eyes.

“I truly don’t know what to do, guys.” Jihoon winces at the defeated tone of his older housemate’s voice as he climbs back into the comfort of his bed once more, hoping to forget about the world around him for a little bit longer.

Jihoon heaves a loud sigh as he steps into his first Film Studies class in nearly two weeks, slumping down in his chair, rubbing at his temples slightly as Professor Park begins his usual droning on. He really should be listening to the lecture at hand, but he can’t bring himself to. Not when he can feel the eyes of multiple people in the class lingering on him. He’s sure that word has gotten around now about his very public dumping and the fact that Ji-ah was obviously never his soulmate. He hates that he can feel the sympathy radiating off of his peers, and even off of you, his real soulmate, sitting directly beside him with your stupid perfect hair and stupidly neat notes that you wordlessly offered him to help catch him up on the classes he missed. He accepts them graciously, spending most of the lesson copying your notes into his notebook.

“Professor,” a deep voice from the back of the room calls out near the end of the lesson, drawing Jihoon from his thoughts.

“Yes, Jaebeom?”

Your soulmate glances at you at the sight of your body tensing up at the mention of the newcomer’s name. He tilts his head slightly as he feels nerves begin to bubble in the pit of his stomach from you, causing him to raise a brow. You take a slow breath before scribbling idly on your page again, indifference on your face, but Jihoon knows it’s a front.

Why are you so tense?

“About the extension on our group project?” Jaebeom’s voice lulls out in a drawl, a clear cockiness hidden in his tone.

“Ah yes,” Professor Park hums, nodding his head. “I know some of you have gone ahead and already submitted your essays and presentations to me, and I’m thankful for you guys for getting these to me on time and even earlier. For the remainder of you all who have yet to submit your projects, I’ve extended the deadline by two weeks, due to an unavoidable event I must attend.”

Jihoon hears his classmate’s sighs of relief, and in turn, he breathes out as well. He knew he had neglected his end of his project with you for the last week, and he feels grateful that he can make up for it.

“I do hope the rest of you,” Professor Park sends a look to the back of the room, “get this done in due time. Class dismissed.”

Jihoon wordlessly offers your notebook back to you, a frown forming on his face when he sees you duck your head, letting your hair fall over your face. He glances to see a taller man wearing low jeans and a beat up baseball cap on his head march- no, strut down the stairs to reach the door, sauntering out with what Jihoon can only describe as a sleazy grin on his face. Once he steps out of the room, you immediately collect your things, bow your head to Jihoon with a little smile, and jump up to leave the classroom.

“Professor,” your soulmate approaches the teacher. “I appreciate you extending the deadline-”

“Oh, Jihoon-ssi!” Professor Park smiled. “Are you feeling better? Miss Choi told me that you were unwell when she submitted your project to me last week.”

“Oh.. Yeah, I’m feeling alri- Wait. Submitted?” Jihoon blinked.

“Yes,” he smiled. “Both of your arguments had wonderful points to pit against each other. Well done! I will be posting your grades in a few weeks!”

You finished off the project for him? Why are you so… nice?

“Uh… Thank you, Professor.” Jihoon bows his head in thanks before slowly stepping out of the classroom, starting to walk in the direction of home, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.

Jihoon takes a deep sigh as he finds himself sitting down at the park bench that is so familiar to him now, letting the raindrops land on his clothes and face as he tilts his head back.

“Jihoon-ssi?” your voice is quiet over the sound of the loud rain, but Jihoon could hear you. He always does. He blinks as he feels the heavy raindrops that land on his hoodie abruptly stop, looking up to see a pastel umbrella being held over his now drenched body. “What are you doing out here?”

Jihoon shrugs quietly for a moment. “I… don’t know.” He glances down at the wet sleeves of his hoodie. “Just.. Thinking.”

“Well, I think you should think away from a torrential downpour next time,” you quip with a little smile, hoping the joke makes him crack a smile.

“Nah,” he hums. “It’s comforting, the rain..”

“Comforting?” You echo, tilting your head innocently as he hums a confirmation.

“Mm. Rain doesn’t have colour.” He glances at you for a moment, slightly amused by the cluelessness on your face as you just blink at him. “Ah, it’s silly, really,” he continues. “The sky doesn’t have colour when it rains, it reminds me of what the world looked like before everything changed. Everything is so different now.”

“You’re right.” You agree quietly. “Everything is different.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon mumbles after a brief silence. “For helping finish off the project while I was… y’know.”

“Oh, that?” You shrug. “That was nothing. You had all the arguments, I just articulated them for you. Figured that you already had enough on your plate so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I submitted a little early to get it out of the way for the both of us.”

“How do you do it?”

“Huh? Do what?”

“... Live.” Jihoon’s voice is barely above a whisper as you settle down on the park bench beside Jihoon, still holding the umbrella over his head. “How do you just live life so damn happily while you feel like absolute shit all the time? And don’t deny that you don’t, I have felt every single emotion you have felt for weeks now.”

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky before humming. “I suppose I just got used to it.” You shrug. “It kind of just became like a background noise for me. It’s just always there.”

“Even when the pain is doubled now? Because of me?”

You shrug once more. “It’s not something I haven’t dealt with before. I can feel the pain for both of us, Jihoon-ssi. It’s okay.” You give him a little smile. “I have had a lot more practice at loss than you have.”

Jihoon feels the irritation bubbling up inside him slowly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You blink in confusion as you glance at him. “Huh?”

“I have experienced loss too, you know.”

“I know that, I just-”

“I am more than capable of feeling these emotions too.” He frowns.

“I know,” you emphasize, “I just wanted you to know you don’t have to face them on your own.”

Jihoon scoffs quietly. Who does she think she is, giving him advice on how to deal with his emotions? “I know that too. You don’t need to point out the obvious, Choi.”

“Do you know that?” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “Because from what Mingyu told me, you’ve barely left your room until this week.”

“Ugh,” Jihoon groans, leaning his head back. “Am I not allowed to have time to myself?”

“Of course you are,” you sigh. “But you’re also-”

“You know, you should think about facing your emotions on your own instead of relying on everyone else around you.” Jihoon hisses at you with a glare as you freeze with wide eyes.

“H-huh?” He can feel your doubt seeping into his veins.

“Your brother, his soulmate, Soonyoung, Seokmin,” he rambles. “They’re always at your beck and call when they could be living their own lives with each other and not have to worry about you every five fucking minutes like you’re their child.”

“I…” You balk, Jihoon wincing at the feeling of your stomach twisting inside him. But he doesn't care, he wants you to hurt as much as he does. It’s your fault he doesn’t have Ji-ah anymore, afterall.

“Just go away!” He barks. “When will you realize that your help isn’t needed?! You’re not needed! I lost the one girl I truly fucking loved because of YOU! Why would I want you around?! Leave me alone already!”

After a long silence, Jihoon finally turns his head to look at you, staring at him for what seems like hours with the same look that you had on the day you brushed hands for the first time. That isn’t what frightens your soulmate, though. What frightens him is the fact that he can’t feel anything inside him anymore, besides his own pain.

“... sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” You mumble robotically, delicately placing the umbrella beside him before rising and walking through the heavy rain in the direction of your house, letting the rain run down your clothes.

“Fuck.” Jihoon sighs heavily and buries his face into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he hears your footsteps move further and further away.

He needs to apologize. He knows he does. He knows he said those words out of anger and hurt, and he knows you definitely didn’t deserve it.

But why can’t he find it in himself to go to you and do it? You’re literally two tables away from him right now.

Jihoon, he scolds himself, it’s been days. You need to man up and tell her you’re sorry.

Could he be worrying a little now because since he confronted you, he has felt no emotions whatsoever from you? Has he finally lost the tether from you?

“Hello you!!” A loud, cheery voice snaps him into reality. He blinks as he stares at his cup of ramen in his hand, fidgeting on the hard steel of the cafeteria chair underneath him, trying to figure out where the loud voice had come from.

Seungkwan makes his way over to where you’re sitting, draping himself over your back. Before he can ask how you are, you jolt up quickly, scooting away from him like you’ve been burned.

“Hey.” You give him a little smile, pressing yourself up against the wall. “Where’s Hansol? You should be with Hansol.”

Seungkwan’s face contorts slightly as he sticks his lips out in almost a pout. “He had to run to make his next class… Bug, what’s wrong-”

“I actually have to run too, Kwan.” You stammer out quickly, grabbing your backpack and stepping out from behind the table. “Talk later?”

“But, you haven’t even touched your lunch…” his voice fades out as he watches you rush quickly out of the cafeteria, surprise etched on his face.

Jihoon watches on, just as surprised as Seungkwan as he reaches the table with him, Soonyoung and Seokmin.

“Okay, what the hell was that? What happened to Bug?” Seungkwan immediately questions Soonyoung, who upon further inspection, looks just as out of it as you are.

“We don’t know,” Seokmin speaks for his soulmate. “Every time she’s at home, she stays locked up in her room and only leaves to cook dinner for us and clean up. She didn’t even come down for movie night the other night.”

Your soulmate’s eyes widened slightly as Soonyoung took a deep breath. “Something has happened and she won’t tell us what. She doesn’t even speak when she’s at home anymore.”

“We’ve tried to talk to her, get her to come out of her room, do anything, but she doesn’t budge. I’m getting worried.” Seokmin bites his lip.

“I don’t know what the hell has happened to our Bug. She is literally just doing fucking chores and whenver one of us tries to hang out..” your best friend rubs at his temples. “She keeps insisting we hang out with our soulmates. With each other. I don’t know why the fuck that doesn’t mean she can’t hang out with us too.”

Jihoon feels sick as your housemate’s words sink in to him.

When will you realize your help isn’t needed? You’re not needed!

Fuck.

“Jesus Christ, Jihoon-ah.” Wonwoo breathes out when Jihoon finally steps through the door. “You were supposed to be back four hours ago. What the hell were you- Jihoon-ah?”

His eyes widened at the sight of his housemate stepping under the lights of the hallway, lip trembling and hair sticking in six different directions. Jihoon truly didn’t mean to take so long making it home. He supposes he lost track of time wandering campus with his racing mind.

He knew his words had gotten to you. At the moment it felt good, for you to feel the pain he did. But now? Seeing his friends, your family agonizing over how detached you are?

What has he done?

“Jihoon…” Junhui looks on worriedly, reaching forward to slip the backpack off his housemate’s shoulders.

“I… I knew what I was getting into when I chose to date her, Wonwoo.” His voice quivers as he stares at the ground. “I knew that she already had a soulmate, but… I-I didn’t think…”

“Of course you didn’t.” Wonwoo agrees.

“She told me that he had moved countries years ago… There was no chance he’d come back…” a small tear slides down his cheek as his housemate hums in acknowledgement. “And when I… when I found my soulmate and I-” Jihoon chokes back a sob. “And I rejected them to keep a hold of Ji-ah…” His soft cries echo into the quiet hallway. “I… I felt their heart break inside of me, I’ve felt their pain for weeks a-and now I feel their pain on top of my own and… fuck, I broke her, man.”

“Oh, Jihoon…” Junhui sighs sympathetically as Wonwoo pulls Jihoon towards him, bringing his head into his shoulder as his arms wrap around his back in a warm embrace.

Jihoon pauses for a moment. He blinks once, twice, and a third time before he lets out a soft sob, his hands gripping onto Wonwoo’s shoulders desperately as he buries his face into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Hyung,” he chokes out. “I r-really fucked up.”

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

@vixensss @hemmingsness @lizzymizzy-blog @kawennote09 @breakfastburritosattiffanys @im-gemmy @friendlywraith @devinkelsey19 @kameko-ko @mar-627 @Woozieeeee @milopenne @stellauniverse @addicsvt @changbinisms @phenomenalgirl9 @lanatheawesome @maidachi @jeanjacketjesus @sunnynapp @jihanniee @reallyshypost @jaeminsbuckethat @sweetchelly @iarayara @opheliaas-stuff @claireleem @hotricewoozi @beardedartgamingbakery @sumzysworld @lavayeon @unusuallyshy @woozixo @mirxzii @mhlsymlysn @seventeenthingsblr @kwanniesboo @loomsuhcats @markleehee @scuzmunkie @tumblerluvver @wooanghae @xxpr3ttyk173rxx @comingupwithacoolnameishard @whorecore-world @sana-is-ms-rmty @bitterbluemorningstar @reverieisntready @gaslysainz @softforyoongles @artemisdoe @studykaystudy @kpopishealing @kyrojackson @winchestersllama @palmsugr @j0j11 @cookiearmy @lateforlatte @eisaspresso

Permanent Taglist

@misshale21 @etaerealboy @kawennote09 @im-gemmy @devinkelsey19 @woozieeeee @loveless-lie @lixiel0ver @keymins @nen-nyy @lisaaaaamanobannn @i-dont-give-a-fok @miriamxsworld @jovialpartyneckoaf @jojowantstocry @roe-sinning @sarahisupset @sun-daddy-yoriichi @coveyland @side-angel @ateez-atiny

#seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #lee jihoon x reader #woozi angst #woozi x reader #lee Jihoon angst #seventeen au

150 notes · View notes

strang3lov3 · 3 days ago

Text

Boys Will Be Boys

You hit Roman where it hurts. Meaning you fuck his dad as he watches and cries.

Tags - dubcon, girthy age gap (80/???), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, masturbation, sexual harassment/assault (Roman’s punished for it, and I kept it short and sweet), unsolicited dick pics, roman roy gets cucked by his father, osteoarthritis, hypertension, logan roy dirty talk, logan roy takes viagra, coercion, tears and mucus as lube, almost?subby?romey??? lowkey...logan roy is kinda a fuckin' stud. uhhhhh…idk. kinda grotesque. you have to embrace it. crack fic adjacent, but this is serious business to me. you’ve been warned.

A/N - you know what you’re fucking here for. maybe it’s morbid curiosity. maybe you wanna see roman roy crying while masturbating. maybe…maybe you wanna fuck that old man. it’s ok if you do. i won’t tell on you, you fucking pervert. enjoy Logan Roy screwing your brains out <3 I tagged my romey readers, and while i implore you to be brave, don't feel pressured to read if it's not your thing. @beefrobeefcal thank you for the beta hot stuff! i love you so much.

It’s been happening for a while now.

It was just small things at first. A little comment here and there. He told you that you had nice legs the first time you wore a skirt, said something else about loving a long-legged woman. Then he asked if you shaved for him, too. What else do you shave, huh? Are you bare everywhere?

The little tattoo on your wrist, usually hidden by your blouse. What’s that about? Got any other tattoos? Perhaps in a more private place? If I guess where it’s at, can I see it?

Oh, the way you got flustered. Your eyes went wide, mouth dropped open a little. Too easy. Roman took that as a challenge - an invitation, rather, to take it up a notch.

He turned up the heat in his office to a balmy 75℉ the week after that. After each time you’d turn the thermostat down a few notches, Roman would use a little remote he’d point at it to turn it right back up. Must be busted, Roman told you. How about you call maintenance, huh, assistant? Maybe do your fucking job for once?

Roman watched with a crooked smirk on his lips as you slipped off your cardigan, exposing your body to him. That pretty nude camisole. Roman sidled up behind you, fingers skating over your shoulders until he reached the strap of your bra. Your blood went cold as he wriggled his fingers beneath them, then pulled up, up, and snickered as he let them snap your skin harshly. Nobody else had done that to you since junior high.

In the elevator, he stands too close. While riding up the many floors of the tall building, Roman fucking breathes on you, and follows you when you inch away from him. Your skin prickles when he touches your lower back, fingers drumming against you, walking down your waist. He’d first started by testing you with a little pinch on your ass cheek, just to watch you jump and hear that startled little squeak you’d make. He gropes your ass now, squeezing a handful of it, kneading his fingers. He loves the visible discomfort on your face, and knowing you can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Harrassing you is the best part of Roman’s job. It’s why he wakes up in the morning, getting to exert that power over you. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction, of delight.

Your phone is full of photos of his cock. Lawsuit material, if you were brave enough to go up against Roman and Waystar and all of its bells and whistles. Roman tells you his lawyers would eat you alive before you even step foot into a courtroom.

It was late last Saturday night when Roman texted you a picture of his crotch, cock visibly hard under his slacks, outlined in sharp detail.

10:07 - Got a job for you. Wanna help out the boss?

Every notification on your phone with Roman’s name attached makes you want to puke. You wish you could ignore him. Block him.

10:07 - No, Roman.

You waited with bated breath for Roman’s response, the little dancing ellipsis on the screen mocking you as he formulated a text back. How’s he gonna make your day worse this time?

10:08 - Funny how quickly a job can disappear.

Fuck it. Whatever. You sent him as modest of a nude photo as you could muster - panties and bra on, face cropped out.

10:12 - Cute. Smile this time. Lose the underwear.

10:32 - Leaving me on read wont work. Nice try tho

10:33 - Five minutes. Don’t make me wait

You sighed in frustration as you stripped, then snapped a photo from above. Legs crossed to hide your pussy, your forearm covering your chest.

10:35 - *fire emoji*

10:35 - *As in I’ll fire you.

10:35 - Bare tits. Bare ass. Bare pussy. Do it now

With no choice but to comply, and with an awful feeling in your gut, you took more photos. First of your tits, then your ass. Sent and sent.

10:38 - Forgetting something?

It made you feel even more sick, but you needed him off your back. You spread your legs, pointed the front-facing camera at your cunt, and took the photo, then sent it to Roman.

10:45 - I bet you’re so tight. Are you wet right now?

10:45 - Yeah

Playing along.

10:47 - I wanna be inside you

10:47 - Gonna cover you in my cum

Roman went quiet for a while then, probably ten minutes before texting you back.

10:58 - I wanna watch you cum for me.

10:59 - I’ll know if you fake it

He made you send him videos of you masturbating, all different camera angles, different positions. He kept you up until almost three, making yourself come over and over for him. Until he could hear you crying in the videos, your thighs trembling. It was horrible - humiliating, exhausting, so fucking dehumanizing. He sent you pictures of an old cardigan of yours covered in his come at the end of the whole thing. You thought you lost it.

It’s Monday afternoon now. You have a bad feeling when you walk to Roman’s office, seeing that the blinds are drawn over the large glass panes of his windows. You let yourself into the room at his request, and Roman’s sitting on his little gray couch, legs spread wide. He’s palming his bulge, eyes following you as you close the door. You avoid making eye contact with him, something that only serves to challenge him. He straightens, then wordlessly pats the seat next to him.

“I have those files you asked for, Roman.”

“Oh, that’s great. That’s really, yeah - awesome. Set ‘em down.”

You set them on the coffee table, then anxiously drum your fingers on your lap. You steal the littlest glance at Roman sitting next to you; his thumb mindlessly stroking where the hard head of his cock presses against his slacks.

A heavy silence falls as you process what’s inevitably coming next. Roman unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants, then unzips them. He rests his head against the couch as he pulls out his cock, then looks right at you. A lazy smirk pulls at the corner of his lips and his eyes are lidded, darkened with lust in a way that makes him look like an animal.

Roman lets out a little giggle at the nervous way you fidget your hands. He takes one in his own, holding tightly onto your wrist when you try and pull it back. “Hang on - wait. I like your nails. Pretty, very pretty, sweetheart. I think they’d look nice wrapped around my cock, don’t you?”

You bunch your fingers in a fist, attempting to pull your wrist out of his grip. “N-no, I don’t, Rom–”

“Oh, come on. That’s why you got ‘em fuckin’ done, right?” Roman uses his other hand to pry your fingers open. “Hey, open your fucking - there we go.” He lowers your hand, pressing your palm against his warm package, and his cock looks smaller in person. Just as upsetting, though.

Roman lets out a quiet, soft groan of pleasure, then turns frustrated when you pull away again. He snaps his fingers at you, “Hey - assistant girl. Isn’t this your job, right? To assist?”

A knock at Roman’s office door has him jumping, and you take the opportunity to get away from him entirely. You leave Roman on that couch, and he’s cursing you under his breath while quickly tucking his cock back into his trousers, watching you do your quick little half-jog out of his office. Fine, be that way. You’ll fucking get it later.

You don’t have a plan in mind when you begin walking, you just leave. Looking over your shoulder to see if Roman’s following behind you, if he’ll grab you by the forearm and drag you into a supply closet. Do god only knows what to you. Probably fuck you with the end of some maintenance man’s mop.

You find yourself knocking at Logan’s door, then exhale a shaky breath. You’re not…you’re not sure what you’re doing here. What you’re gonna tell him, if you’re gonna tell him anything. It’s not like he’d do anything about it, right? Logan eyes you through the window, then calls you inside with just a simple wag of his fingers. He looks annoyed, fuck. But when does he not?

Logan’s room is large, and you’re not entirely sure how to navigate, which feels silly. Sounds even sillier to say. You’re not often alone with Logan, and the proximity makes you unsure of yourself. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve always felt…something for him. He’s a brute, yes, and you’ve seen the ugliest sides of him. Something about it makes his softer moments that much more profound, though. The tenderness is there, and it shows in quieter times. He winks at you now and then, offers you a smile with no malice or contempt or derision behind it.

Logan’s got a soft spot for you, too. You’re a sweet girl. He’s always thought so, really. You do what you’re told, and you don’t ask for much. You’re not a bumbling idiot or a nagging fly buzzing in his ear. Easy on the eyes, too. Never hurts.

Logan gestures to a seat in front of his desk and hums a little. “Need a minute,” he mutters as he reads something on the screen. You look at all of his belongings on his desk - papers, folders, a mug. A framed photo of him somewhere warm and beachy, showing off his pale legs and his swollen ankles.

Finally, he closes the window and smiles at you. His piercing, steel blue eyes pin you in place, but they’re warm too, almost. Warmer than Roman’s. When Roman makes eye contact with you, it makes you feel like prey. Like he’ll hunt you for sport. Not Logan, though. His gaze is heavy, but not hungry.

Logan claps his fingers together over his thick belly. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“Uhhh…” You cross and uncross your legs as you shift in your seat, then fidget with your manicure, nervously chipping the paint off. You hate this color now. When you look up, Logan’s got his eyebrows raised at you, waiting for you to continue. You don’t want to wear his patience thin.

“It - I was gonna talk about Roman, but it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I’m not - I don’t need to tattle.”

“Fuck that. What’s he doing?” Logan demands flatly, immediately, furrowing his brow.

“No, I shouldn’t have said any–”

Logan interrupts, speaking your name softly. “Tell me.”

You tell him everything about the harassment. How long it’s been going on for, how it started small and just kept escalating and escalating. How fucking relentless Roman is. You show him the texts, the photos, becoming flustered when Logan stumbles across the photos of yourself Roman made you send to him last weekend. Logan quietly hums in approval.

You tell him about Roman in his office, the stunt he pulled just before now. It feels good to get it off your chest, at least momentarily. The way Logan simply nods, rubbing a hand on his chin makes you feel uneasy, though. A silence hangs heavily as he takes it all in, thinking.

“What?” The anxiety makes your question slip out rather impatiently. “Sorry, I just - what are you thinking, Mr. Roy?”

Logan scoffs, smiling just a little. “...Didn’t think the kid had it in him.”

“O-oh. Okay.”

That’s…that’s it? You wonder if he’s gonna tell you that you were asking for it. Or to buck up. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and Logan will be just as cruel to you as his son is. Fuck, you already regret this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice softer than you expected it’d be. “Truly. I’m sorry my son put you through this. I promise I raised him better, darling. I did my best.”

“No, it’s–” You interrupt yourself to exhale steadily, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“You know,” Logan begins, absentmindedly wiggling his fingers, “You know what it is. Boys’ll fuckin’ be boys.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you know. Men don’t grow out of boyhood so quickly, anymore, s’all. World’s turnin’ to fuckin’ shit. Unacceptable behavior, the fuckin’ kid’s pushing forty,” he spits, rolling his eyes. “Roman - he’s…well, you know what this is, don’t you? You see through his act, yes?”

You shake your head. “No,” you reply.

“Boys like him, they’ll pick on ya when they’re sweet on you,” Logan explains. “That’s all it is. Usually harmless. Usually,” he adds.

“But, Mr. Roy, I don’t–”

“I know, dear. He’s not your type, is he?”

“No,” you answer quickly, garnering a hearty chuckle from Logan. You laugh too.

“The boy always was an odd duck,” Logan adds, then pauses, thinking. “What is your type, darling, if you’ll forgive my asking?”

“Oh, gosh,” you giggle, feeling Logan’s heavy gaze on your body, your warm face. He knows. He absolutely knows.

“Older, for one,” you admit.

Logan smirks, and you share a smile with him. He seems to pick up on everything, knows exactly what the words left unspoken spell out. It’s always girls like you, vibrating with desire for him. No matter how white his hair becomes, nor how much rounder his belly gets, nor every new wrinkle that graces his face as the years stack up - doesn’t change the fact that Logan Roy’s still fucking got it. He reaches for one of his desk drawers, then pulls it open and reaches inside. Logan grabs an orange bottle and rattles out a tiny, blue, diamond shaped pill. His blue eyes twinkle at you as he swallows the pill, then points to the bar cart by the window. “Be a lamb, darling. Some water.”

Quickly, you grab Logan a glass of water, watching him wash down the pill as you clench your thighs.

“I need to hit him where it hurts,” Logan says in between sips. “Make it fuckin’ stick this time.”

Logan shoots Roman a quick text, and you wait anxiously for his arrival. When he finally enters the office, his face falls upon seeing you at his father’s desk, looking…happier than he’d like to see you. You’re sitting up straight, chin held high, shoulders back. Logan’s scowl darkens as he gestures for Roman to sit down, right in the seat next to you. Roman’s hands shake a little as he pulls the seat back and lowers himself into it.

“What’re we gonna do about you, son?”

“What?” Roman’s brows furrow, and his bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly. “I don’t kn–”

“You a sicko?”

Roman shifts uncomfortably in his seat, realizing this conversation is absolutely not going to go his way. “No, I–”

Logan cuts Roman off, his tone sharp. “She tells me you’ve been harassing her, Roman. Is this true?”

“What? Dad, no. She’s f-fucking lying,” Roman stammers. Roman looks at you then, and you can see how he tries to glare, to scare you, to regain control. He’s powerless here, with you protected by his father.

Logan reaches for your phone, which is sitting face down on his desk. He turns it on, “Gimme a hand here, darling. Pull it up again.”

You have to bite down on your smile as you put in your passcode, feeling so empowered at the moment. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. Roman’s humiliated you so many times and finally, he’s gonna take what he dishes. And then some.

Logan shakes his head a little, grumbling as he prods the screen with his fat fingers. “Fuckin’ bastard…here. Here it is. S’that your fuckin’ dick?” he sneers, spit flying from his lips. He turns the phone around, showing Roman one of the many, many photos of his own dick on your phone.

Roman freezes, his face turning pale enough to make his freckles vanish. “N–”

“Certainly small enough to be yours. Look–” Logan scrolls through more texts, “This one too, huh?”

“No,” Roman seethes, and it almost makes you giggle, the way he scrambles to lie. So fucking…pathetic. He’s everything Logan’s not.

“Oh, see? Look at him, darling. He’s squirming.”

Logan reaches for his eyeglasses sitting on his chest, held by a cord that wraps around his neck. He squints a little as he scrolls through your phone, then clears his throat before reading aloud. “‘I bet you’re so tight’,” he reads loudly, droning in a monotone voice. “‘I need to be inside you. You’d look pretty covered in my cum.’ You think this is a fucking compliment?” Logan asks, looking at Roman through his eyebrows.

Roman’s face twists, and he scratches the back of his neck in discomfort. “Dad–”

Logan turns the phone around again, and this time a picture of Roman’s hand is on the screen. Fingers spread, covered in his own come. He scrolls again and the next photo is a picture of Roman himself, licking those fingers.

“You are a fuckin’ sicko,” he growls.

You and Logan watch Roman shrink into his seat, how he looks like he’d willingly crawl out of his own skin and die, if he could. Logan lets him stew in his discomfort and his shame for a beat, then pats his lap, petting his bulge a little.

Roman watches you round the desk at the same time Logan rolls his chair back, making enough space for the both of you. You sit on Logan’s meaty thighs, watching the color drain from Roman’s lips. “Ope - up a second, dear. C’mon, up, up.” Logan swats your hip gently. You stand up then, and feel Logan’s large, paddle shaped hands slide up your thighs, under your skirt. He reaches for the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, letting them pool at your feet. You step out of them, then sit back down, leaning against Logan’s thick, pillowy belly.

“Spread your legs,” Logan whispers, helping you part your thighs. Your skirt rides up your body, putting your throbbing cunt on display for Roman. Roman swallows thickly, watching as his father reaches for your center, grunting a little as he stretches. You moan when you feel him touch you, sliding just one, thick digit through your slippery folds. “Oh,” he gasps mockingly, holding out his hand for Roman to see. “See how wet she is, Romulus? Tell him, darling, who are you this fuckin’ wet for?”

“You,” you whimper, turning to speak to Logan. Logan groans, and you feel his thick cock twitch against your backside. “I need you, Mr. Roy.”

“Oh, my dear. Be patient. We’ll get there.”

Logan glares at Roman as he pushes a single finger inside of you, and even that’s a stretch that has you whining. Logan coos in your ear, quieting you as he uses his other hand to unbutton your blouse. He wriggles his fat hand underneath your bra, palming and groping your tits, teasing your nipples with his thumb. “Fuckin’ kid wouldn’t know what to do with a pair of tits like these, now would he, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” you agree, looking right at Roman. Your eyes scan down his body, noticing that - oh, god. He’s fucking hard. He’s trying to hide it, hands covering his crotch. But you see it. You see the way he’s rocking his hips, pressing down on himself to alleviate that pressure a little.

Logan pumps his finger inside you once, then twice, then adds another. He curls the two rhythmically, noting how it makes Roman squirm. Roman’s making desperate, stifled little noises as he watches his father fingerfuck you, so shamefully, disgustingly turned on by the sight.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, resting your head against Logan’s shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you bask in the pleasure, bucking your hips into his palm a little.

“Ah-ah. Eyes open, darling, and look at Roman. Look, he’s fuckin’ hard for ya. See?” You lift your head a little, looking at Roman through half-lidded eyes. His face is so fucking red, eyes still wild but a little broken, too. All wet and sad. He’s sweating, you can see it glittering at his hairline, the protruding veins in his forehead twitching to match. “He’s making a mess of himself,” Logan adds, pointing to the the wet spot bleeding through Roman’s pants. “Fuckin’ disgusting, isn’t he?”

“Dad,” Roman whispers, voice breaking. “Please, d–”

“Shut the fuck up, Roman,” you snap. You’re melting as Logan now rubs your clit in practiced circles. He’s got decades of experience under his belt. Guided some hundreds of women to orgasm. You’re no different, just as easy as the rest of them.

You whine as Logan pulls his hand away, pushing you forward so he can free his cock from his slacks. He sucks in his belly as he unbuttons his pants, then exhales deeply, thick belly bulging against his thin shirt. Even at the ripe age of eighty, Logan’s cock is long and thick, and everything Roman’s simply is not. You don’t get much of a look at the thick, unruly patch of white pubic hair surrounding the base of his shaft before Logan’s pulling you against him, tapping his dress shoe between your ankles to make you spread your legs. “Show Roman how you take care of his old man, huh? See how he likes that.” He fits the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, then slowly pushes you down with a firm push on your hips. “Ohhh, that’s it, darling. You take it so well.”

The stretch of his cock entering you has you sucking in a sharp breath, then exhaling through that delicious pain. Your cunt pulses around Logan’s cock as you watch Roman free his own dick, desperately pawing at his own length as tears fall from his eyes. He wipes them quickly, then uses the same hand to stroke himself.

“Help a man out, sweetheart. The osteoarthritis…my knees, I–”

“Of course, Mr. Roy,” you coo sweetly, lifting yourself up and down on his turgid, wrinkled member. Logan steadies you with his hands on your waist, guiding you along. Roman lets a little sob escape as he watches his father fuck his massive cock into you, squeezing his own cock so desperately. You giggle at that.

“Quit - don’t fucking laugh–”

“Hey,” Logan barks, pointing a finger at Roman. “You don’t call the shots here, Roman, I do. I fucking run game,” he growls. Logan squeezes your breasts in both hands as he draws in and out of you, letting out wheezy exhales as his heart rate increases, but he won’t let his hypertension stop him from pleasing you. “Yeah, that’s it, honey. Look at him, fucking his hand. Tell me darling, what do you think of that?”

“I think - I think he’s fucking pathetic,” you answer, looking right at Roman as you say it. Roman’s face breaks even further, more tears falling from his big, wet eyes. He wipes his eyes and his dripping nose, using the mess on his hand as lubricant as he fucks his fist with a depressing sort of fervor.

“Hear that, son? She thinks you’re fucking pathetic,” Logan taunts.

“I fuck- oh, fuck,” Roman whimpers, throwing his head back as he desperately works himself.

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ adopted,” Logan grumbles under his breath. He lifts you up then, and spins you around, then lays you across his desk so you’re looking at Roman upside-down. Logan enters you again in one swift motion, then begins fuckings you with an energy you wouldn’t expect, but that pleasantly surprises you. He’s so spry for an eighty year old.

“You do so good for me,” Logan praises you. “My idiot son could get fucked like this too, if he weren’t such a fucking screwup. Isn’t that right, Romulus?”

“Y-yeah,” Roman whines.

“Speak up, Roman. Let her hear you. Actually–” Logan grunts, punctuating the sentence with a brutal snap of his hips “I want you to apologize to her.”

“What?”

“He’s that fuckin’ stupid, huh?” Logan pants, the comment directed at you. “Fucking. Apologize,” he tells Roman. “Do it now.”

“I’m fuckin’ sorry. Okay?”

“Again, Romulus,” Logan demands, annoyed. “Louder.”

Roman tells you he’s sorry again, and it makes you smile. His voice all high-pitched and broken. Good, it’s about fucking time he’s taken down a peg.

“Tell her again,” Logan says. “Like ya fuckin’ mean it, Roman. And you don’t stop apologizing until she comes. Are we fucking clear?”

Roman nods frantically, pumping his cock as he whines, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

His words go right to your core. Logan fucks you harder, and licks his thumb before bringing it to your clit. He uses those same practiced circles from before to coax along your release, and it’s not long before you’re pulsing around his cock, moaning Roman’s father’s name as you come hard, all that pleasure washing over you as Roman whispers how fucking sorry he is.

With a few harsh thrusts, Logan’s spilling into you next, coming with a deep, guttural grunt and wheezing breaths, a sharp pain in his chest. It’s all fucking worth it. He reaches into his pocket and tosses you his handkerchief, then excuses himself, mumbling something about needing his supplemental oxygen.

You sit on Logan’s desk as Roman strokes himself to completion, sobbing as he gets off to the sight of your puffy, swollen cunt, ruined by his own father, and dripping with his spend. He makes a mess of himself as he comes, “Here, Rome–” you offer, tossing your used cumrag at him.

“Get that - fuck,” Roman cries, swatting it away. He sobs as he comes down from his orgasm, unable to even look at you as you put yourself back together.

“It’s smaller in person,” you murmur, touching Roman on the shoulder before leaving. He flinches at that, then breaks down in tears again as he shoves his softening cock back into his pants. “See ya tomorrow, boss.”

if you enjoyed, please shout at me 🩷💕 comments, rb, or go to my inbox. I turned anons back on because I know a handful of freaks will need to scream about their horniness but would prefer to do so anonymously.

romey tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink @romanarose

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman @drunkdriverkillerwhale @fawnjaw @/fadedviolets

#roman roy x reader #roman roy smut #roman Roy x reader smut #roman roy/reader #roman Roy/you #Logan Roy x reader #Logan Roy x you #logan roy #roman roy #kieran culkin #brian cox #succession #succession fic

170 notes · View notes

solaris-amethyst · 3 days ago

Text

Get ready for a whole ass essay because this is so good and I need to gush about it all😭

Oh how I wish I could give you a prize for this fic because it's simply THAT good!!!🥺🏆

That is in fact gonna be me now as your Spider!Yuyu is absolutely engrained into my brain... Also idk which Spiderman you were using as inspiration (if you were using any of them at all) but I totally got the Andrew Garfields Peter Parker/spiderman vibes from your fic mixed with Yunhos personality and it's so so so amazing!!! (Andrews Spiderman is my personal favorite as well hehe🤭)

I enjoyed so much how you wrote him so playful as Spiderman but also like a tiny tiny bit cocky until he realizes something and turns into a slightly bumbling mess whilst trying to hide who he is or not give too much away to others! Also Yunho my man, we gotta talk about the way you kept giving things away about who you were multiple times!!! Like what if you said something to the wrong person and they turn out to be someone who tries to hurt you?!🥲

Yunho's and Mc's first meeting in the beginning when he saves her from the robber was honestly so funny cuz her reaction was so valid to it all!! Although I fear that if that had happened to me I would have tried to hit Spider!Yuyu with my bag of eggs after mc screamed when seeing him for the first time... like that would have freaked me out i'm sure of it😆

Speaking of those two! They dynamic!!!!!

I LOVE the dynamic you created between the two of them!!! Both being fumbling messes sometimes due to their own feelings towards the other, then being cutesy and all eager to joke and hang around each other and sometimes even comfort the other for what's going on! Chefs kiss😚🤌💓

I just love them both so much tbh

Mc freaking out every time Yunho smiles or laughs or just does anything is so cute and relatable cuz same girl, I too would react that way if I were in the presence of Yunho and he were unapologetically himself around me.

Not Mingi being almost possessive over Yunho whenever Mc is around😭💀 And Sannie being kind after Yunho has introduced them when they're eating together and she's told them all about her asshole of a "stepfather" (seriously I'd like to wack him in the head a few times hard with a idk bowling ball or something😒)

Not Yunho whisking her away before knowing she has a fear of heights😭😭 You know what? Scream his hears off he deserves that for not asking before hand🥲 But also the scene on the rooftop of them bonding and talking and while the mc was sitting with her head on her knee and all and Yunho admiring her like ughhhh my heart💓 I love when one is admiring the other with love while the other one doesn't know/realize it.

W.I.T.C.H mentioned!!!!! Totally fair that she had a crush on Cedric!! Like yes he turns into a snake creature but have you seen him in the books?!! He's like super charismatic and all towards Elyon so no wonder Mc likes him when she was younger! (speaking of w.i.t.c.h, Will was absolutely my favorite character when I grew up😌)

The gasp I gasped when she found Spiderman injured and took him home to help him. Like omg I was hoping for a scene like this and you delivered!!! Idk why but I just love it when she starts rambling on and when she realizes he's gonna need to undress for her to help take care of the wounds. Ahsjbdjahsbdasjb just that whole scene! And when she tells him to stay the night so he will be safe and sound and then talking about how she's gonna brag to Yunho about this only for him to reveal himself to her when she turns around!

THE KISSS!!!!!!!! HAJBDHAD AS FJSDGF DSGJ FSDUJ YEEESSS😩💕 I loved the way you wrote that part just ughhhhhh so good, Yunho not being able to hold back and kissing her and her melting into it and reciprocating it and both of them just wanting to be close as they kiss until Yunho breaks away to just pepper her with kisses😭😭 I love this so much! They get to cuddle together and be cozy as boyfriend and girlfriend in the end😭

Thank you for this fic it was absolutely amazing and I loved it so so much! You're an amazing writer🥺💓

Above the world

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

🕸️Warning: cursing, mentions of murder and robbery, wounds, slightly suggestive 🕸️Word count: 25.6k 🕸️Rating: nc-17 🕸️Genre: Spiderman!AU, Marvel & DC references, superheroes!AU, strangers to lovers!AU, highschool!AU 🕸️Summary: Moving to a new city due to your mother's psychotic ex-fiancé, you thought the past wouldn't catch up with you, but it does. You're an outcast at your new highschool until a tall and dorky guy approaches you and decides to be your friend. Oh, and did I mention there's also this weird superhero kinda guy in the city who calls himself Spiderman? And why does he kind of remind you of your new friend?

A/N: Lovelies, it's finally here!! I've been planning to write this story for at least two months now, I just didn't have the time for it, but it's here at last! Few things I'd like to quickly point out: 1. I hope the humor I used isn't a miss as once again I wanted to explore something new and used a different writing style, 2. they are in highschool but it's not cringe, I promise (I haven't written a highschool setting in ages lol), 3. I used some terms that are skateboard related and so, I'll leave a little glossary of what those mean below! ^^ (I hope I managed to describe these well) (I hate the fact that I didn't incorporate the famous "hold on tight spider-monkey" line, but it is what it is lol) Sorry if there are any mistakes, I do proofread but it's super late rn and my brain might not pick up on all the mistakes! :') Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this little (not so little) story, and your feedback is always super welcome, they inspire me to write even more lol! divider

⎊ (I have an Iron Man!Mingi oneshot, if you're interested! ^^)

🕸️360: a complete skateboard and body rotation performed either frontside or backside 🕸️180: a half skateboard and body rotation performed either frontside or backside 🕸️alley-oop: an aerial transition trick in which the skater moves his body sideways in the opposite direction of the rotating movement 🕸️backside: a trick or turn executed with the skater's back facing the ramp coping or the obstacle 🕸️alley-oop backside 50-50 grind 🕸️540 backside 🕸️airwalk: an aerial trick in which the skater grabs the nose of the board, kicks the feet out while in the air, and then quickly back on when he's about to land it 🕸️ollie: a trick in which the skater uses his or her feet to pull the skateboard up into the air 🕸️backside nose slip 🕸️frontside boneless 🕸️Casper Flip: a trick in which the skater performs a half-flip and then uses the back foot to grab the tail and whip it

Despite the unfamiliarity of the dimly lit street, there was something very comforting and—quite familiar—about this new place. Perhaps I couldn’t call it home just yet—given that it’s barely my second day here—but there was something cozy about the wet ground shimmering underneath the glimmering streetlamps that did little to nothing to light up all corners of the—otherwise—dark street. Not many are out at this hour, and it’s not because it’s too late, it’s the fact that my mother and I managed to find ourselves—barely— a modest little house, in probably one of the dodgiest parts of this, new, promising, and quite huge city. I wouldn’t call it the slums—I’ve seen worse places compared to this one—but the eerily empty street could make anyone run back inside their house upon nightfall. And, well, I get it—if it weren’t for my favourite music blasting through my wired—probably from the Stone Age—earphones, I probably would’ve found myself scurrying back home as well. But for once, I didn’t mind the cool breeze of air that’s settled upon the city after the rain that came out of nowhere. It was autumn, but the leaves haven’t started falling down just yet. It was the perfect timing for me to join my new high-school, not that there was ever a good timing, per se, I always thought a newcomer would remain just that—a newcomer. And while I didn’t have had to move towns in quite a while now, I still remembered what kind of treatment would be waiting for me tomorrow.

The new girl in school. Everyone would be eager tomorrow to get to know me, to talk to me, to try and befriend me. And me—well, I had nothing against all that—but deep down I just really wished to remain unseen, and most importantly, unbothered. I have never considered myself a very sociable person, and later than sooner, people would realize that and they would finally leave me alone. I don’t have many friends for this exact reason, and the one I do have moved to Spain a long time ago, our phones now the only way to keep in touch—my mother finally saw the important of me being on my phone so often. But it was fine, I didn’t mind the distance, however, there were days when I wished we could hang out, go on small trips, enjoy each other’s company. Nayoung had promised to visit soon, but we both knew she was too busy with her life over in Spain for that to happen anytime soon, and I didn’t have it in myself to pester her about the promise she made.

The neighbourhood my mother and I had moved to wasn’t too far from the heart of the city—and while one would expect it to be lively and bright, it was anything but that—even during the daytime. People seemed to avoid making eye contact and they hung their heads low around here, barely muttering even as much as a greeting if you crossed paths with them down the wide street, even if they were your neighbours. The houses, too, seemed to be silent at all times, no little children screaming and laughing or playing outside, no rowdy teenagers blasting music and getting yelled at for not doing their homework. It was odd, but it was only temporal—well, that is if my mother manages to land herself a better paying job so that we can move away from here. These houses were closely pressed up against each other, back gardens rather—inexistent. Our house just so happened to be neighbouring a huge building—offices, someone had told us—but for what business, we didn’t know. And probably wouldn’t want to know.

I’ve seen some roughed-up people come and go from the beaten-up building. The narrow alleyway just so happened to be a dead-end between our house and this building, and my mother had been debating whether she should place bars outside on my window as it just so happened to be facing this small alleyway. It wasn’t as dark as one would expect it to be, but a barely lit-up streetlamp did a shitty job at fully illuminating it.

I bobbed my head to the music, humming—hopefully—quietly to myself as I skipped down the road, almost splashing myself in the process as I failed to notice a rather deep looking puddle. I chuckled as I narrowly missed it and threw the plastic bag over my right shoulder—completely forgetting I had eggs in there. With an alarmed expression, I scrambled to hold the plastic bag normally and peeked inside, letting out a sigh in relief upon seeing that the eggs were completely fine, not one cracked. I knew my mother would make me walk back to the small convenience store—which was probably about to close up—and I really just wanted to watch my anime—the one I had seen about five hundred times, but who cares?! Some people tend to cling to that what brings them the most comfort, and this anime was like that for me. However, just as the chorus of the song blasted through my earphones, I cleared my throat, ready to mouth the lyrics as I remained alone on the street, when I felt a harsh tug on my right arm. And when I didn’t react to it straight away, I was pushed forward, stumbling through a puddle and splashing my new white Vans.

“Oh, come on, man!” I snapped, frowning down at my, now, dirty shoes, “I just got these yesterday!”

As I turned and went to pull out the earphone from my left ear, I was met with a sight that I wasn’t exactly expecting. Well, to be fair, I thought a kid or an asshole had run into me on purpose, but—having a metal gun almost pressing into my forehead certainly wasn’t what I was expecting—what a way to greet your new neighbour on their second day of living here!

“Empty your pockets!” The tall man, dressed in all black—typical—hissed as I managed to pull out both of my earphones while moving slowly, “And give me everything that’s pricey.”

Well, jokes on him, I didn’t have anything pricey on myself…well, except for my phone, “I don’t really have that many pockets, man.”

I pulled my cardigan’s pockets out, showing the robber that I really had nothing inside, “Look, man, if you think you are broke?! Just look at me! You are really out here trying to rob a broke high-school student—”

“Shut up!” The man snapped, and I froze as the barrel of his gun was now forcefully pressing against my forehead. Uh, yeah, if there’s one thing I totally suck at—well, it’s shutting the hell up when needed, “Give me your rings! Now!”

My eyebrows furrowed and I looked down at my hands, scowling as I realized I was wearing all of my favourite rings. Like hell was I giving them to this dude!

“Honestly, I got these from some antique shop for the cheapest price ever,” I huffed, raising the plastic bag between us and trying to ignore the way my heartbeat picked up when the man’s eyes narrowed, gun pressing just a little bit harder against my cold skin—okay, I have started sweating, “But you can totally take this bag! Like, man, it’s all yours, really! I’m not even hungry anymore! My mom’s hot dogs can wait for another day, you can have it, man.”

“What the fuc—” But before the man could even finish his sentence, he was gone. Like—gone. Whisked away, or some shit. I stood there, dumbfounded, mouth gaping and blinking at nothing. I swear, the man was in front of me a second ago and now he’s—not anymore? I gulped, squeezing the plastic bag to my chest—disregarding the fact that I could crack the eggs—and slowly looked around, now finally acknowledging the fact that I was really panicking. What do you mean I was being threatened a second ago at gunpoint and now that motherfucker disappeared into thin air?! Did I inhale something sketchy when I passed those two dudes in front of the convenience store? Was I hallucinating now? Has the trauma induced by my mother’s ex finally caught up to me, ready to torment me? Am I going to—the soft thump in front of me made me freeze as I slowly moved my eyes from the sky towards where I heard the sound come from and—yeah, I screamed.

“Hey, hey, wait!” Whatever that thing was called out, making my eyes widen as I accidentally stumbled back, certainly about to fall into a puddle, but—a web shot out towards me from that thing’s wrist and caught me mid-air, gently stabilizing me, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not here to hurt you! I just—saved you, actually.”

The sound—well, voice—coming from underneath that thing’s—man’s—mask was boyish and a little bit distorted, but I could hear its—his—tone very well, still. It was soft and sounded rather concerned. Having realized that I was still gaping towards this—something—with my heart practically in my throat, I closed my mouth and blinked furiously, trying to clear my head as I shook my body in case this was a dream—it seemed like the perfect moment to wake up, before it could turn even weirder.

“Okay,” The masked thing—man, guy, whatever—mused, clearly sounding amused now, “I’ve never seen anyone react like that to Spiderman, actually.”

“A spider what?” I asked confused, eyebrows furrowing as I held onto the bag even tighter. For a moment, there was complete—awkward—silence.

“Spiderman?” The person sounded unsure as they scratched their nape, its mask blinking. I jumped, allowing my eyes to fully take in this—creature?! Why did it look like a real man if they called themselves a Spiderman?! As if all that wasn’t enough, the person was tall enough to loom over my form in its red and blue glory, the costume moulding against their lean and—softly—muscular body, looking like a second skin, almost. The design was intricate, and I could swear it looked like it had some actual web sewed into it. All in all, the outlook was quite cool, it’s just that it was confusing to look at…him? I mean, the person did look like a man, alright—a fine one, on top of that—and they did call themselves a man, so.

“Are you going to—morph into a spider or some shit?” I found myself asking, sounding less mortified than I felt on the inside. That was good, no? I mean…this creature still hadn’t attacked me or killed me, so we were getting somewhere, right?

“Morph into a spider—” And then the creature—man—was laughing hard and loudly, doubling over as its body shook, hitting its knees with its hands, making me narrow my eyes at them. Nothing about what I had asked was funny. I was genuinely confused. Was this some kind of prank? Would I end up going viral all over the internet? Where were the cameras?

“I’m not Antman.”

“Antman doesn’t turn into an ant.” I deadpanned, the stranger in front of me raising up to their full height again, quieting down. I swear to God, I could just about slightly see their lips pursed, but the mask did a good job at concealing every feature of the stranger’s.

“Yeah, you’re actually right.” The stranger seemed to agree with me, and if I had to take a guess, he was probably smiling underneath his mask, “So, if Antman doesn’t turn into an actual ant, do you think Spiderman will turn into an actual spider?”

“Where are we? At school?” I deadpanned sarcastically, eyebrows furrowing as I just realized the web this creature had shot towards me to stop me from falling into the puddle was still clinging to my forearm. Ew.

“Right, I’m—oh.” The stranger cut themselves off as something on their left arm started buzzing, quiet beeping catching my attention as I looked towards his wrist, at which the weirdo was blinking down at now—well, their mask was, “Sorry, duty calls, them bad boys are asking for it again. Are you far from home?”

“No, I live right down the street.” I found myself answering whatsoever, the fear of getting murdered miraculously gone despite this weird encounter.

“Cool, then hurry home before it gets later and more dangerous.” The stranger’s voice was friendly, and I watched as they bent their knees a few times, looking like they were about to launch themselves away.

“Wait—” I quickly said, biting my lower lip when the masked man turned his head towards me, “where’s the guy that was threatening me?”

The stranger just shrugged his shoulders once, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother you again anytime soon.”

“Oh, okay.” I whispered, eyes widened once the stranger shot another web from their wrist, this one quite long as it latched onto the side of an abandoned factory. Wow, just how was that possible? Wouldn’t it break? No, wait, it was able to hold me without breaking, so it certainly wouldn’t break under this man’s weight—isn’t that impressive?!

“Hey,” Snapped out of my thoughts, I was surprised to find the man crouched down, funnily resembling a frog, “I’m glad I found you at the right time, but try to be more careful next time, I’m afraid I won’t be always around to save you.”

I gulped and nodded, feeling my cheeks tinge red a little, “Thanks…Spiderman?”

The person chuckled, soft and a little deep, somehow the voice modulator unable to properly mask the sound, and then—as quickly as he had appeared in front of my eyes out of thin air—he was gone just like that too. I whipped my head up with my mouth falling open, watching in awe as the man swung around from building to building, making it seem like nothing. He had some mad trust in those webs of his, I could never. My fear of heights simply would make me too terrified to frail around like that, so high up in the sky. One misstep and—well, you’re dead.

The loud barks of a dog coming from a house down the street made me jump, and I realized I should’ve long made my way home. Couldn’t have my mother worrying about me so soon, and so, heeding the advice of this…Spiderman, I hurried the rest of the way back home, reminding myself to look up this mystery—hero?

Well, school turned out to be the complete opposite of my expectations. The ambush I was waiting for as I walked through the large front doors—well, it never happened. People swarming towards me, desperate to meet and greet the new girl—that, also didn’t happen. Perhaps I misjudged the situation at first, after all, not all people were so eager to make new friends, but to not have at least one single person approach me was—simply put, odd. Well, it was odd until I found out the reason as to why everyone seemed to steer clear from my path, avert their eyes—or even going to the length of staring at the ground while they walked past me—or why I heard whispers behind my back everywhere I went. They’ve heard what my ‘step-father’ had done. By now, everyone knew why my mother and I had to move to a new city, yet nobody bothered enough to hear the full story—or at least wait before judging me. He wasn’t even my step-father, actually, my mother never got to marry him with how he’s now locked up in federal prison, rotting away in a cell.

“Did you hear her father stabbed the man one hundred times?”

“Do you think she’s also a psychopath?”

“She does look like one, if you ask me.”

“Who even allowed her to enrol in our school?!”

“Wait, what if she carries a knife on her like her father did?!”

“Do you think her father brought her out with himself to hunt for his prey together?”

Were some of the absurd whispers I managed to catch during the four hours that I’ve been at my new school, and these questions just kept getting more hilarious and deranged each time I heard them.

“Yes, and he made sure to teach me how to smell a weakling, too.” I had smirked, just barely turning my head, to look at the blonde girl in line behind me as we were waiting for our turn to pick up our food, “Usually blondies like you are easy to lure in, sweetheart. Less yapping and paying more attention to your surroundings might save you next time from saying something embarrassing about said person standing right next to you.”

The blonde’s eyes had almost bulged out of her eye sockets just as it was our turn to pick up our food for the day, and then I was off to find a table that was still empty as I knew no one would want to sit next to me. Thankfully, the canteen of the high-school was spacious enough.

And after that, not much happened other than people unabashedly staring my way and whispering, the teachers being either very nice or acting uncaring towards me. And by the middle of the day, I was finally ready to head home, but I had yet to power through two more classes. And if that didn’t sound excruciating enough, the loud laughter suddenly dying down as a group of girls passed by me, certainly brought a sour taste into my mouth. I couldn’t help myself as I played into the rumours and hissed at the girls, making them scramble off in a frenzy. I chuckled, and quite quickly almost choked on my own spit as someone had started to chuckle behind me, scaring the living daylights out of me. I had—foolishly—assumed I was alone in the hallway, wanting to pick up a few books from my locker before I would head to my next class. I had zero intentions to pay attention in my last two classes, reading some manga will do for the time being.

“You’re not helping yourself by feeding into these people’s delusions.” The same voice that had chuckled spoke up as I whirled around, totally not expecting to see the loomingly tall guy from my classes, leaned against the lockers, a dashing smile on his face. Fuck. Did he have to be so handsome?

“Speaking to the ‘daughter’ of a criminal? How daring,” I whispered, faking a deranged smile as I grabbed something out of my pocket, “Aren’t you afraid you might be my next victim? Considering the fact that these stupid kids at school seem to think I’ve killed—fifteen people already?!”

And to that morbid ‘joke’, I certainly didn’t expect my cute—and handsome—classmate to burst out laughing. His puffy cheeks had a natural rosiness to them and I couldn’t fight the smile on my lips as I noticed the tips of his ears had turned slightly red as well. He laughed with his whole mouth, hand shielding it and oh—his fingers were nice. Long. Well—my classmate looked down at my hand, still laughing, as I held a plastic fork oh so menacingly and threateningly, pointed towards his chest.

“Why do you have a plastic fork in your jacket?” My classmate asked amused, narrowing his eyes teasingly, “Were you waiting all day long just to do that?”

“No!” I exclaimed mortified, hiding the plastic fork behind my back. God, this is now really embarrassing, “I just—I was wearing this jacket when my mom and I were moving in. I bought some food and this fork, apparently, and then completely forgot about it and left it in my pocket.”

I could swear I heard my classmate mutter a ‘cute’ before he straightened up, dusting his seemingly completely spotless jeans. Oh, God, okay, he’s tall tall. I gulped as I slightly had to look up at him, feeling so completely little despite having a quite decent height for a girl—not that there’s anything wrong with any type of heights.

“I meant to greet you during our lunch break, but my friends wouldn’t let me leave,” My classmate spoke up while scratching the back of his head, looking sheepish. I had to force my eyes to move up to his face from his hands, only to have my stomach doing weird flips. Oh, hell no, I was not about to have a crush on someone—let alone my classmate—the very first day I get to my new high-school. But the guy wore washed out blue jeans, looking a little baggy, and he had a white, probably, t-shirt peeking out from underneath his green long-sleeved blouse, a jersey with our school’s logo thrown over it. And the blue and white bandana around his greyish-greenish—and blueish in certain lightning—hair certainly pulled his outfit together, making him look really good. And despite considering myself someone who is almost always well dressed, I felt quite plain looking right now. Absentmindedly, I started playing with one of my many rings that I was wearing, “My name is Jeong Yunho, by the way.”

Right, Jeong Yunho. I’ve caught his name from the teachers and a few classmates already. I smiled, nodding a little, “Yeah, I’ve heard your name a few times this morning. I’m Kang Y/N.”

“It’s nice to officially meet you, then, Y/N.” I chuckled and shook his extended hand, totally trying not to gape at how big it was and how awfully well it enveloped around mine. Plus, his hand was way too hot, almost to the point it was burning my freezing hand.

“You too.” I found myself answering, but not quite present as I tried to pull my hand out of Yunho’s before I would start gushing about his fingers. God, when have I turned into this person? Yeah, I had a thing for hands, fingers, and rings, sue me—but never have I had it this badly for someone I just met.

“So,” Yunho said cheerily, clapping his hands together as I pushed mine inside my jacket’s pockets, “Do you want me to show you around school? I know a few good hiding spots for when you’re in the mood to skip classes.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be in class right now, though?” I asked confused, looking down the empty hallway. The bell had rung a good ten minutes ago, but I had figured the teacher’s would be lenient with me today as I was new and—didn’t actually know my way around school just yet.

“Nah,” Yunho chuckled, his features really boyish and—cute—damn it, “I spoke to the teacher, it was his idea to ask me to show you around, actually. You’ll find Mr. Kim a rather odd man, but he’s cool and really smart.”

“Oh, okay,” I muttered, pursing my lips as I opened my locker to put away my books as I didn’t need them anymore, “but for the record, that guy everyone is talking about, isn’t my father. We’re not related, not even a little bit. He’s a psycho and I’m glad he’s locked up for life.”

I didn’t mean to sound so—rough, but I hated the fact that everybody so quickly assumed things about me that weren’t even true. Yeah, I didn’t exactly want to be bothered and make new friends, but one or two people would’ve been still nice if they did approach me.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly care,” Yunho said with a casual shrug, giving me a small smile that made his cheeks puff out a little bit, “call it a spidey sense, but I think you’re a really nice person.”

My eyes narrowed as I huffed quietly, crossing my arms in front of my chest as Yunho grinned, looking ready to finally show me around, “Speaking of spiders, who the fuck is this Spiderman?”

If there was one thing in the world that I would find no matter where I was—that was a skatepark. No matter how much I love watching anime and reading mangas, skateboarding just so happens to be a little higher up on the scarce list of my likes and dislikes. And after having cruised around my neighbourhood, narrowly avoiding the masses as I refused to step down off my skateboard, I finally found a skatepark. It wasn’t too packed, which was really awesome—I never actually liked it when it was full of rowdy kids wanting to show off—and it was in walking—or riding—distance from the neighbourhood I live in. At least the people around here look a little bit friendlier than the ones back on my street, my mother would finally have something to be happy about. She hates our new place—understandably so—and is restlessly looking for a new job, to the point that I had to shut her laptop off last night for her and send her to bed. Who is being the responsible adult now, huh, mom?

Today was my third day at school and—well, it could have been worse, to be fair. My peers still looked at me like I had two heads—or was carrying a knife on me—they still whispered made up shit about me—of course, they did, it was barely my third day—but somehow having Yunho around slightly helped? Yeah, Yunho—well, he is quite adamant on being my friend despite me very obviously ruining his perfect reputation. It wasn’t hard to notice just how popular this dude actually is at school. Everyone greets him in the hallways, people flock to him every few minutes, and he’s always smiling and making small talk with everyone. He does have his closer-knit friend group—who very obviously are not fond of me—yet he still somehow makes it seem like he’s friends with absolutely everyone. I wounder if he’s ever had an enemy in his life before—less likely, to be fair. With a face and personality like his, I don’t think anyone would have the guts to hate that guy.

But putting thoughts of Yunho aside and sending a quick text to my mother to inform her about my whereabouts, I placed my phone back in the back pocket of my jeans, and took off towards the slope. My skateboard glided smoothly along the ground as I passed by a few other skaters, the sky darkening soon as evening was slowly approaching. A group of guys were huddled together and watching something on their phones as I did a 360, grinning as they cast glances my way after the little trick I pulled. I wasn’t a big trick master, never too bothered to actually learn the ones that were more dangerous, however the few tricks I did know were pretty cool and nicely executed. Arriving to the slope, I stepped my left foot off the skateboard and looked down, watching a few skaters glide down and do tricks. The slope wasn’t too high nor too big, I had no problem going down it. So, stepping back onto my skateboard, I kicked off and grinned as my heart started pumping faster, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. I had tied my hair in a low ponytail, not keen of having it whipped in my face by the wind.

I grinned as my path was clear, making it possible for me to do a kickflip, my skateboard lifting and turning as I raised my knees high up, letting out a quiet huff as the moment was soon over and my feet were planted on my skateboard again, the speed and force enough to help me glide up on the other end of the slope. A guy and girl were at the top, both clapping casually as I grinned, doing a 180 turn before stepping off my skateboard.

“Nice one.” The girl praised and I bowed my head slightly, grinning.

“Thanks, you’re pretty cool yourself too.” I complimented her, having seen her do an ‘alley-oop backside 50-50 grind’. The girl grinned and did a mock salute before she was off the slope, in no time doing a 540 backside, making the guys—and myself—cheer for her. She had some nice skills; I had to give it to her. The girl grinned as she came to a stop at the top of the other end of the slope, shooting thumbs up towards us. I chuckled and walked to the side, taking a seat as my legs dangled off the slope. I had been riding around for more than half an hour, I could use a break right now. Besides, taking in my ‘competitors’ was always a smart move. And I mean, maybe I could make some friends too here? That girl seems pretty cool and the tricks she knows are awesome. I watched her do an ‘airwalk’, then ‘ollied’ off the side of the slope as she was headed towards a ledge grind, where she went for a ‘backside nose slip’. I placed my hands underneath my thighs as another guy went barrelling down the other end of the slope, doing a 50-50 grind as he came up on the side I was sitting at, before heading for a smaller ramp, nailing a ‘frontside boneless’. I pursed my lips and nodded, appreciating his technique as the bigger crowd of boys now kicked off too, weaving through the smaller ramps, doing tricks as one of them was headed for the slope. He grinned as he kicked off his skateboard, picking up speed as he went from one side to the other, winking at me as he did a 50-50 grind, making me snort. But he wasn’t done trying to impress the people who were watching him, and he daringly went ahead and did a ‘Casper Flip’, my eyes widening at how smoothly he nailed it. That was a trick I have tried to learn one too many times, but in the end my legs just got jumbled together—and not having enough patience—I just gave up on it.

The guy did another kickflip and then he was off towards his friends, who were loudly cheering him on, patting his back. I chuckled and looked around, noticing it was golden hour. It was beautiful, the sun coated everything in orange, reflecting off the windows of the tall buildings surrounding the park. I smiled and grabbed my phone, snapping a few pictures off it before I realized it was getting really late now and I still had to finish my Geography homework. So, just as I stood up, suddenly loud cheers erupted all around me, making me look around curiously. But there wasn’t anyone performing any cool or hard tricks, so I looked on confused, up until I saw someone pointing upwards. And as I looked up too, squinting as the golden hue of the sunlight was harsh to the bare eyes, I noticed something swinging from building to building. Red and blue and webs. Ah, Spiderman. I chuckled as I glanced at the kids in the park again, noticing the awe and excitement as they waved and pointed at the—hero?

“Spiderman!” A younger looking girl cried out, waving so hard her arm threatened to fall off any minute now, her phone in her hand, no doubt recording Spiderman. But the guy was too high-up to hear anyone call out for him. I grabbed my skateboard and placed my phone back in my pocket before I was off the slope, doing a few ollies and kickflips in the process, skirting around the mini-ramps, opting to just casually stroll out of the park. I pushed my hands in my pockets and allowed the skateboard to roll at an acceptable speed, smiling at the cool girl when she waved at me, noticing that I was on my way out. However, as my attention was on her, I failed to notice a guy rolling towards me rather quickly, in the midst of doing an airwalk, completely oblivious to me as he grinned at the camera his friend had pointed towards him. And when I finally turned my head to look ahead, it was too late as the guy and my skateboards crashed together, making me cry out in surprise. In no time was I tumbling towards the cold ground, bracing myself for the impact, thinking I would end up with scrapped elbows—if nothing anything worse.

But the impact never came and I stood frozen, hearing whispers around me and the other guy’s moans of pain. My eyebrows furrowed as I slowly opened one eye, mouth falling completely open as Yunho stood leaning over me, one strong arm holding me up around my middle, my body inches away from the ground. His eyes searched my face for a second before a huge smile stretched onto his lips, chuckling at my befuddlement as my heart continued to race. Since when was Yunho at the skatepark? And how did I fail to notice him? And why was I blushing so hard as he helped me stand up straight?

“Oh—uh—hi.” I muttered, feeling flustered as Yunho didn’t release me despite me being back on my two feet, “Thanks, that’s—impressive. Uh—since when were you at the park?”

Yunho chuckled and averted his eyes, his ears reddening suspiciously as he released me at last, “Just now—I mean, I was around. At the back, uh, I—I was passing by when I saw someone I knew in here and—are you okay?”

“It’s not me you have to be worried about.” I said with a grimace, pointing at the other guy that was now sitting on the ground, clutching his elbow to his chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Yunho sounded worried as he walked over, crouching down.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s broken.” The guy said and Yunho pursed his lips, looking alright with his answer, however, he still went and helped him off the ground, muttering something to the guy as he nodded and grabbed his skateboard before going off.

“What’d you say to him?” I asked curiously, looking up at Yunho with my eyebrows raised. He cleared his throat and ran his long fingers through his hair, the redness from his ears spreading to his neck now.

“That he should go to the doctor, it might not be broken but you know…a smaller rupture or something might still have happened.” Yunho explained and I hummed, looking around as I didn’t know what to say or do. The kids were slowly going home, the skatepark emptying, streetlamps illuminating the streets as the sun was gone now. It was time for me to head home.

“I have to—”

“Would you like to—”

Yunho and I looked at each other with our eyes wide, both a little embarrassed for speaking over the other. I could feel my face heat up and I looked down at the ground, stepping on the heel of my skateboard in order to hold it up, to have something to distract myself with.

“Sorry, you go first.” Yunho said, voice quiet as a car honked loudly as it narrowly avoided another one that just stopped without putting the hazard lights on.

“Oh,” I licked my lips before looking up at Yunho, for a second captured by his chocolate brown eyes. His silver-greenish-bluish hair was out of his eyes today, swept back a little messily with a middle part at his forehead, strands wavier than yesterday or the day before. It softened his features in a sweet way, “No, uhm, were you going to ask me something?”

“Yeah, I—” Yunho took his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitating for a second, “Would you like to grab something from the convenience store? Soda or anything else…”

I pursed my lips, calculating in my head whether I had enough money on me to go spend it at the convenience store, however, Yunho mistook my silence as a refusal, his cheeks instantly inflaming hot pink, “You don’t have to! I’m sorry, that was too much, I—I know we just met a few days ago, but—”

“I’d like to go, Yunho.” I cut his panicked ramble off, smiling at him amused. Yunho gaped for a second longer at me, but then he shut his mouth and chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. Why did he have to look so cute whenever he did that?

“Oh, cool, there’s a store right across the street.” Yunho pointed behind me, making me look back. Huh, I haven’t even noticed the convenience store before, but perhaps that’s because the windows were dusted up and there were no signs indicating that it was still in function, “Oh, it looks dodgy from the outside but they even have arcade games inside! I really like that place.”

“Sure, let’s go then.” I shrugged and offered Yunho a wide smile, taking off towards the exit of the park, “But I can’t stay for long, my mother will be worried about me no matter how many texts I send that I’m fine.”

Yunho’s chuckle mirrored mine behind me, and I pushed the gate open, stepping aside and holding the door open for Yunho. He thanked me and walked ahead, waiting for me at the crossroad. It took me a second to notice his cardigan, which was blue and super fluffy, and its hood had ears. It looked cute—why was everything cute about this guy? I quickly averted my eyes off Yunho when he turned to check that I was still keeping up with him—walking behind him, since his legs are too long and I can’t keep up with him—slowing down a little when he noticed I was struggling to hold my skateboard and also keep up his pace.

“Do you want me to carry that for you?” He asked with a smile, pointing at the skateboard.

“Ah, no, I got this.” I grinned, giving him a thumps-up, making Yunho chuckle as he quickly turned his head, muttering something to himself. As we arrived in front of the store, Yunho pushed the door open for me this time and stepped aside, ushering me inside. The place was actually well lit and there was a nice vanilla scent wafting through the air. I smiled as the clerk greeted us, beckoning us further inside. The walls were a neon yellow and fridge after fridge lined up against it, a few tables stern across in the middle of the space. It wasn’t a huge store, just enough for about ten people to fit inside. But the arcade Yunho talked about was nowhere to be seen.

“So, where’s that arcade at, huh?” I teased as I followed Yunho to a fridge, his grin so wide it stretched across his whole face. He sneaked a glance my way before turning towards a door I assumed were the toilets, and pointed one long finger at it.

“Beyond that door.” He answered and the opened the fridge, grabbing one strawberry milk for himself. I hummed and pursed my lips as I looked through the window of the fridges, trying to decide what I was craving. And chocolate milk was the winner as I grinned while grabbing it out of the fridge. The music wasn’t too loud inside the store, just the right volume if you wanted to have a conversation without bothering others or getting overheard. Yunho stood by the front desk, apparently conversing with the clerk, the two huddled close together. I narrowed my eyes at the two as I approached, propping my skateboard up against the sturdy wood of the front desk. The clerk cleared his throat upon noticing me and pulled back, plastering a generic smile on his face. His sharp eyes weren’t the friendliest, but he didn’t seem malicious.

“What’d you get?” Yunho asked as he looked down at me, still leaning against the front desk, arms crossed and resting on the wooden table. I placed my chocolate milk next to his strawberry one and smiled.

“Chocolate milk, haven’t had it in a really long time.” Well—does one consider three days ago a long time ago? Because I do, certainly. Yunho hummed and then faced the clerk again, nudging his head in the direction of our items.

“Think you can put them on my tab, Joong?” Yunho’s grin held mischief as he snickered in the clerk’s direction, who’s eyes narrowed.

“This isn’t a bar, Yunho, no, I can’t put it on your tab.” The clerk’s voice held exasperation as he heaved a long sigh, “You still haven’t paid for your last purchase—”

“Hey! I thought we had an agreement about that one!” Yunho exclaimed, looking offended as the clerk just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Fine, but next time you are paying for every item you have bought from me and haven’t paid for yet this month.” Yunho giggled—actually giggled and something in my stomach coiled at the warm and cute sound of it—as he grabbed our strawberry and chocolate milks, winking at the clerk.

“I won’t be coming around too soon, then, Joong.” The clerk just rolled his eyes again and grabbed for his phone from his hoodie’s pocket.

“We’ll see about that spider—I mean—spidey obsessed dude.” I laughed a little at the clerk’s words, however it quickly died down when I saw the way Yunho froze and the clerk’s eyes widened just a fraction. Sensing the sudden weird tension in the air, I cleared my throat and grabbed my chocolate milk out of Yunho’s hand.

“Thank you for your generosity—” I raised my eyebrows, not feeling it adequate to call the clerk by the nickname Yunho did.

“Hongjoong,” It was Yunho who answered though, the clerk seemed a little uncomfortable all of a sudden, “He’s a good friend of mine, so don’t worry about it.”

“Good friend of mine,” Hongjoong, the clerk, mocked with a grimace, “We’ve known each other since they day you were born, you idiot.”

“Hey, so what?!” Yunho stuck his tongue out, and before I could thank Hongjoong properly for letting me have a free strawberry milk, Yunho was gripping my arm and pulling me towards the table furthest from the front desk. In a haste, I grabbed my skateboard and grinned at Hongjoong, bowing my head a little as he blinked before offering me the smallest smile I’ve ever seen. Well, what a colourful personality this shorter guy had.

Yunho was seemingly eager to reach our table as he had plopped down into a seat just as we got to it, excitedly opening his strawberry milk, making me chuckle. I placed my own chocolate milk on the table, not noticing how close it was to the edge as I placed my skateboard on the floor, and then shrugged my jacket off. It was warm enough inside to get rid of it, and so, as I went to put my jacket on the back of my chair, I accidentally knocked my hand into my chocolate milk, sending it towards the ground. However, as I gasped and went to reach for it, Yunho’s hand was already extended, small carton held securely in his big hand. I blinked, staring at Yunho for a second before I placed the jacket on the back of the chair and took a seat opposite him.

“Thanks.” I muttered as he extended the chocolate milk towards me, only just now noticing that the nail on his left ring finger was painted a dark blue. I tried to fight the blush that threatened to bloom on my cheeks as our fingers touched, eyes trained onto the table and subsequently on Yunho’s hands as they were both resting on top of it. He wore a few black rings and his whole outfit was casual wear once again, yet it looked really well put together. As I fiddled with the lid of my chocolate milk, I tried to ignore how hot Yunho’s hand felt again, and blamed it on the fact that my hands were always cold, “You’ve got some really nice reflexes, Yunho.”

My eyebrows raised as Yunho choked on his strawberry milk, coughing a little as he hit his chest a few times, struggling to regulate his breaths again. Well—I suppose I must have said something wrong, then? However, I failed to understand what exactly that I said was—well, wrong or triggering.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yunho cleared his throat at last, chugging half of his strawberry milk down, “thank you, I—uh, I’ve always been, uh, fast?”

“Is that a question?” I asked with a chuckle, pushing the little straw inside the little bottle before I took a small sip.

“No! I—” Yunho smacked his lips together, ears red once again, “I do have good reflexes, you’re right. Not many people notice.”

“I mean,” I chuckled, smiling at him, “that’s weird since it’s so obvious.”

“It is?” Yunho asked confused, scratching the back of his head.

“A little bit.” I whispered, averting my eyes as I became shy under Yunho’s watchful gaze. He was a tiny bit intimidating, but overall, really nice—and cute, damn it.

“So,” Yunho cleared his throat, keen on changing the subject, “How do you like it here?��

I shrugged, placing my hands on the table as I started playing with my rings, “I haven’t even been here for a week yet, but—it’s fine? I suppose—I mean, it could be a lot worse.”

“Don’t like where you live?” When my eyebrows furrowed, Yunho seemed to choke a little on his strawberry milk again, “I mean—the neighbourhood! Or like—your neighbours or—something.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, finding it a little endearing how easily flustered Yunho got. In school we couldn’t talk for long as his friends would always interrupt us, boisterous and loud for no reason, “You are quite spot on with that, what gave you the hint?”

“Oh, I,” Yunho gestured around, shrugging a little, “figured since you were at the skatepark. It’s not that big nor very equipped. Others would want to go the central one, close to the big mall.”

“There’s one there too?” I quirked up in interest, “I have missed riding around, so I wasn’t in a search for a skatepark necessarily, you see, I came across this one randomly. And I’m glad I did, because I saw some really cool tricks the others were doing.”

“How long have you been skating for?” Yunho asked in interest, leaning forward, chin resting on his intertwined hands.

“Uhm,” I hummed, looking up towards the ceiling as I tried to count the years, “Ten, maybe? But I only ever skated for fun.”

“It’s a pretty cool skill and hobby to have.” Yunho grinned, eyes falling onto my skateboard as I placed my right leg on top of it, smiling at his compliment, “And I’ve also noticed that you like reading?”

“Oh,” I flushed a little, biting the straw of my chocolate milk before I took a gulp, “yeah, I really like reading—mangas.”

“Really?!” Yunho exclaimed, shouting over the smooth melody playing from the radio. I sneaked a glance towards Hongjoong, and quite frankly, wasn’t surprised to see him watching Yunho with narrowed eyes, it almost made me chuckle at how oblivious—or uncaring—Yunho was towards Hongjoong’s apparent annoyance with him.

“Really.” I chuckled, raising my eyebrows, “Why are you so excited, you also like mangas?”

“Oh, well, not me—not that I have anything against them! They are like super cool and such!” Yunho rambled on, averting his eyes as I tried to fight my amused grin off my face, “Mangas are cool, is what I’m trying to say, however, it’s my best friend that really likes them.”

“Hongjoong?” I asked interested, happy to have something to talk about with Hongjoong since I would be returning to this store as it was straight across the skatepark.

“Mingi, actually.” Yunho muttered, slumping back in his seat, “You know, our classmate.”

“Oh, Song Mingi?” Meaning, the guy that’s been staring daggers at me anytime Yunho even as much as came in my vicinity? I figured this Mingi guy wasn’t a huge a fan of me, not that I could do anything about it, really. If some people wanted to believe the rumours, I couldn’t do anything about that.

“Him, yeah,” Yunho muttered, pursing his lips, “I promise he’s not a douche even if he acts like it at times—”

“All the time.” I added with a chuckle, making Yunho look away.

“He’ll warm up to you.” He tried to cheer me up, but I just shrugged.

“And if he doesn’t, it’s fine, Yunho.” I reassured him with another smile, “It’s not like we can like everyone.”

“True, but—now that you two have something in common he will give in to you, trust me.” Yunho looked quite convinced and I just chuckled as I nodded once, taking some more sips of my chocolate milk.

“So, if Mingi and I like reading mangas, what do you like, Yunho?” I raised my eyebrows, definitely ignoring the way my heartrate picked up when an abashed smile stretched onto Yunho’s lips and he looked up through his lashes at me.

“Video games, like, a lot.” There was an excited glint in Yunho’s eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair, “I eat and breathe video games.”

I giggled and nodded as Yunho went on a short rant about his favourite video games and which were best to play if you were a beginner—like me—and which were more challenging and not too nerve-wrecking as he apparently had a problem of controlling his rage when playing video games. Which seemed so unnatural of Yunho, who was always calm and sweet, nice, and helpful to everyone. Not that I had known him for long, but the more time I spent with him, the quicker I realized that he truly is the way he portrays himself to be. I laughed as Yunho retold a story of him being so mad at losing a game that he scared his dog, which then jumped off the bed and got tangled in the wires, and almost completely destroyed Yunho’s TV. Well, I suppose Yunho learned not to rage in front of his dog after that day—if he wanted to keep his TV intact.

We had both long finished our respective drinks and as I had glanced down at my phone, I realized it was late—my mother would whoop my ass for staying out for so long. Hongjoong didn’t look too happy either as Yunho and I got ready to leave, and I threw an apologetic smile at him as Yunho stayed back for a few minutes. I stood in front of the store, waiting for Yunho, just enjoying the chilly air as the wind blew through the streets of the city.

“Okay, let’s go.” Yunho said once he joined me outside, smiling.

“Where do you live?” I asked, pushing my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

“Around.” Yunho’s answer was short and then he motioned down the sidewalk, “Let’s go, I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to!” I squeaked, growing embarrassed all of a sudden, “I don’t want to bother you. It’s already late, your parents must be worried.”

“They certainly aren’t,” Yunho chuckled, leaning down to be eye level with me, “they are out on a date tonight and they aren’t coming back until late into the night. So, let’s go.”

“Oh,” I muttered, biting my bottom lip and before I could grab my skateboard, it was already in Yunho’s hands as he skipped down the sidewalk happily. I chuckled and followed after him, having to jog to actually catch up with his long strides, “You know, Yunho, not everyone was blessed with long legs like yours.”

Yunho’s ears turned red again as he instantly slowed down, scratching his nape, “Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget I’m tall and like—super quick too.”

“You’re like the Flash or something.” I teased with a chuckle, however, Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and he was suddenly pouting.

“The Flash?” He asked, sounding almost offended, “He’s not even that cool, Y/N.”

“Is he not?” I deadpanned, raising my eyebrows at Yunho.

“He really isn’t.” Yunho huffed, cheeks puffing out even more, making him look adorable despite him sulking.

“Well then, who do you think is cool, Yunho?” I asked, genuinely interested about his opinion.

“Spiderman, of course!” He exclaimed as if that were obvious, making me scoff.

“You don’t even know who the guy is.” I muttered, as we stopped at a red light.

“Do you know who the Flash is?” Yunho’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at me, and I huffed.

“Well, no, but—I don’t know, I’m new to the city. I don’t know anything about Spiderman, of course I’m biased towards someone else.” I ended up explaining my reasoning and Yunho just hummed as the red light turned green and we crossed the road.

“Well, let me help you out, then.” Yunho grinned and suddenly grabbed my jacket, steering me away from a lamppost. I chuckled in embarrassment and thanked him quietly before he could continue talking, “So, Spiderman is like—super cool, you know? He helps the city whenever something really bad happens. He like—you know—he makes order. Puts bad people in jail and saves innocent civilians. Also! He doesn’t just save people, he helps old people cross the road, rescues poor animals living on the streets, even feeds pigeons! And I’ve seen him once cleaning the windows of a really high building since everybody else refused to go up that high. And he takes pictures with children, you know? Shows up at the city’s fair and has never once turned down an invitation from the mayor to represent the good force of the city alongside with the cops, of course.”

As Yunho took a deep breath, having rushed all that out in one breath, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, having to press a hand against my mouth to muffle the sounds. I’ve never seen Yunho as passionate about something—except for video games—before, and as hilarious he looked with his eyebrows furrowed and lips pouting every few seconds—fuck, he was just as cute—so cute in fact, that I nearly tripped over nothing, but he was too lost in his excitement to notice, thankfully. Having slightly calmed down my heart, I glanced at Yunho, amused to see him clutching my skateboard against his chest, giving me a small glare.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a chuckle, clearing my throat, “You just sound an awful lot like you have a crush on Spiderman.”

Yunho scoffed, but he couldn’t fight the smile off his lips anymore, “Everyone has a crush on Spiderman, don’t you too?”

“I don’t know him well enough to have a crush on him just yet.” Yunho’s eyes narrowed for a split second.

“Yet, you say?”

“Yet, I say.”

And then I watched as Yunho turned the corner, skipping a few steps ahead as he led the way down my street, headed towards my house. I don’t think I remember having told him about where I live?

Yunho’s generosity seemed to be endless—and perhaps I was already starting to get used to, which, wasn’t exactly smart on my part. Yes, he was tall, handsome, boyish, and super cute with a personality of gold, but—was I sure my mother and I would actually settle down here? Was it really smart to start crushing on my classmate? Who I’m sure everyone in this damned high-school has a crush on, because he’s really just that nice and that sweet. Teachers love him, his peers admire him and want to be around him all the time, his friends are protective of him and—don’t like me, that’s now one hundred percent sure. Why? Well, because, I was just as baffled as they were this morning when upon entering the classroom, Yunho was out of his seat, completely abandoning the conversation he was having with San in order to approach me. I—of course, like a deer caught in headlights—froze in my spot, thus blocking the entrance to the classroom—making a guy almost run into me as he was on his phone, not paying attention to what was happening in front of him. But Yunho didn’t seem to mind my momentary shock as he grinned from ear to ear, his hair very fluffy as it was even wavier than yesterday, his outfit making me gulp before I managed to compose myself and force a smile onto my lips. He wore grey tech pants with a white shirt—top two butting undone—and a grey cardigan over it and—oh, he wore a fucking silver necklace at the base of his throat, that paired with his black rings for sure made me forget what planet Earth is for a second—or two—who knows, my brain wasn’t processing well at the moment.

And to render me even more speechless, Yunho draped an arm around my shoulders and completely nonchalantly veered me towards his friends. Choi San and Song Mingi. I saw the look on their faces—a mixture of surprise and well, disgust—but San was quick to mask it with a cordial smile, while Mingi—well, he didn’t, not that I expected him to do so. And then before either could say something, Yunho announced that he’d be sitting with me in our English literature class, making me stare at him in surprise—mirroring San and Mingi’s baffled expressions. Why did I have a feeling that right now I was their number one enemy? And then, to try and appease them, I bowed and muttered a quiet ‘sorry’, before Yunho was already walking us to my usual seat, making me lick my lips as I tried to ignore the sudden nerves engulfing my whole body. And what was worse, was the fact that I could feel Mingi’s glare boring into the back of my mind during the whole class, making me scared to look back when the teacher announced that we’d have to do a project with our seatmate. Which—to my delight, but poor overreactive heart—made Yunho so excited he almost knocked over my water bottle as he started animatedly explaining which book we should choose and why. Before the bell could even ring, Mingi was out the door with a loud scoff, and San was rolling his eyes as he slowly approached us, muttering something about Mingi overreacting—again.

Currently, however, we were in the canteen, trays in our hands full of food as Mingi lead the way, his form just as tall as Yunho’s, but shoulders a little broader than Yunho’s. Not that I have paid extra close attention to Yunho’s form or anything—you know. San and Yunho were having a heated debate whether the Yorkshire Terrier or Bull Terrier was cutest, making San whine about not wanting a puppy anymore because of Yunho—which was actually hilarious to hear as I saw zero to no similarities between the two breeds, except the fact that both were named Terriers.

“Just get a cat, oh, my God, San.” Mingi snapped loudly as he slammed his tray down against a table—smaller in size than the others and more at the back of the canteen—looking up with a small glare at San, “Can you two not argue for one second?”

“What’s got your panties in a twist today, Ming?” San chuckled, raising an eyebrow as I felt a little awkward while Yunho took a seat across from Mingi. San went to sit next to Yunho, and for a second, I considered excusing myself and just sitting by myself rather than having to sit next to Mingi knowing he’d rather die—or something—than sit next to me. But, to my rescue, Yunho cleared his throat and looked at San expectantly, who quickly got the memo and chuckled, “Right.”

Then he moved to sit next to Mingi and I gulped as I took my seat next to Yunho, feeling like I was intruding—which I probably was and as if Mingi had the same train of thought, he directed a quick glare at me.

“Didn’t know we’d have to mingle with others today, is all.” He answered San’s previous question and I gulped as I looked down, placing my hands in my lap.

“Okay, Mingi.” Yunho snapped, his tone harsh—and it was surprising, I’ve never heard him speak like that before, “We’re allowed to make new friends, are we not?”

Mingi scoffed and then stuffed his mouth with a spoonful of rice, “Yeah, with people who aren’t criminals.”

“Mingi, that’s enough.” It was San talking now, face hardened and eyebrows furrowed before he looked at me, expression softening, “We don’t even know her.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll just go.” I said with a sigh, about to grab my tray when suddenly Yunho’s hand grabbed mine, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at me.

“You’re not going anywhere,” He said, sounding quite authoritative and determined to keep me there, “Let’s play a game where we ignore Mingi, how’s that sound?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, I really like the sound of that.” San said with a mischievous chuckle as he nudged Mingi in the side, making him roll his eyes before he wordlessly dug into his meal, going completely silent, “And at the same time I don’t like the sound of silence, so—how do you like it here, Y/N?”

I struggled to not choke on the spoonful of soup I had just taken into my mouth, a little surprised that one of Yunho’s best friends’ was addressing me directly, “Oh, I, uhm—it’s fine. I mean…the kids are nice here. Sort of.” The last part I only added in a quiet mutter, but Mingi heard it and chuckled, giving me a smirk that felt a little bit malicious. However, his expression quickly changed as he yelped, jumping in his seat before fixating his glare onto Yunho, eyes narrowing, but Yunho just continued eating like nothing happened.

“Yeah, we…weren’t the nicest, sorry about that.” San’s cheeks tinged pink as he lowered his head a little, “I was raised to know better than to judge someone so easily, so, I’d like to apologise.”

My eyes widened when San raised his head, eyes shining with sincerity and regret. I suddenly felt awkward—well, my day certainly was taking a turn for the—better? I couldn’t tell just yet. I chuckled, shaking my head as I tried to play off San’s apology, it wasn’t that big of a deal, really, “Don’t worry about it, I get it. But for the record—I have zero DNA that ties me to that evil fucker, in fact, I played the biggest part in his case as I had been victim to his—abuse.”

A tense silence fell upon the table and suddenly I gulped, feeling terrible for trauma dumping so much on these three guys. Well, if they thought they could end up liking me up until a few seconds ago, the certainly wouldn’t think so anymore. What a way to ruin something going well for myself for once. I cleared my throat, and averted my eyes when Mingi raised his head, his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes taking me in intensely. Yunho’s body emitted a lot of warmth next to me all of a sudden, and he sighed loudly, shooting a very displeased look towards his two friends, “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to force you to share anything you didn’t want—”

“I wanted you to know, though.” I found myself saying, biting my bottom lip nervously, “I don’t exactly care what the rumours say about me, but I feel angry when I hear people associate me with that monster. He’s a terrible man and he deserves to be locked up somewhere far away from society. He’s not my father and he would’ve never been, even if my mother did end up marrying him.”

“You’re really mature for someone our age.” San commented, lips stretched into a warm and friendly smile, “Not that we aren’t mature! Actually! I am the most mature one in our friend group, you know—”

“Like hell you are.” Mingi muttered before he averted his eyes, going back to eating his lunch.

“I am always the responsible one, looking out for these two idiots—” But San ignored Mingi and then pointed at the two tall best friends, “These two are always wreaking havoc, especially Yunho! He’s all sweet and so kind, but he’s really just hiding his mischievous side. One time, in eight grade, he broke our homeroom teacher car’s windshield and—”

“Okay, enough oversharing, San!” Yunho exclaimed alarmed, crossing his arms in front of his chest in an ‘X’ manner, making me laugh as I looked at him then back at San, who had his lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“Remember Mingi, when he stole that manga for you from the corner bookstore?” San smirked, nudging Mingi lightly, who had a frighteningly similar smirk to San’s crossing his features as he looked up.

“Oh, I do. And remember when he absolutely destroyed Mrs. Kwan’s garden while riding his bike?”

“Enough, okay?!” Yunho exclaimed, his neck, ears, and cheeks flushed a deep red, eyebrows furrowed. I pressed a palm against my mouth, trying to muffle my bubbling laughter, but when San and Mingi simultaneously wiggled their eyebrows at Yunho, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I burst out laughing, slowly San—and surprisingly—Mingi joined us too while Yunho sulked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“It’s not funny!” He exclaimed, grabbing a chicken wing with his hand and biting into it, staring off to the side.

“Oh, this guy was an absolute rascal when we were younger.” Mingi said, still laughing as he threw a pickle towards Yunho, who frowned at him and quickly ate it. I chuckled, amused by the three. Okay, if they weren’t glaring and sending me displeased looks, San and Mingi could be really cool guys.

“Now I see why you’re so obsessed with Spiderman.” I said with a chuckle, grinning at Yunho as I turned my head to look at him. His cheeks were still red and his lips jutting out, he looked so adorable it was hard to hold myself back from squishing his cheeks. San’s laughter, however, very slowly died down and Mingi—surprisingly—choked on the bite he just took of his meal, having to grab his water bottle and drink in order soothe his coughs, “He’s everything you weren’t. Having him as a role model might turn you into a better man.”

“Hey!” Yunho scoffed, playfully pushing my shoulder, sending a very non-threatening glare at me, “Spiderman is just simply cool, okay? I don’t have a crush on him or anything, I just—are you saying I’m not a good person?”

“What?!” I asked alarmed, completely oblivious to the amused glances San and Mingi were exchanging between each other as Yunho narrowed his eyes at me, “I never said that! You’re—cool.”

“Like Spiderman.” Yunho added with a wink and I scoffed, going back to eating my—now—cold soup.

“I see you are acquittanced with Spiderman, then.” San mused, finally eating his meal as well, it must’ve gone cold by now. I nodded as I finished eating my soup, sneaking glances at Yunho as his attention suddenly was on the TV mounted on the wall a few feet away. His eyebrows were furrowed and so, I looked to see what was bothering him, only to be met with a pretty bad looking bank robbery. A dozen of police cars were in front of the bank and—oh, no, an armed man held someone at gunpoint. The sound was muted, but I could guess that the armed man was holding an innocent by-passer. It brought a sour taste into my mouth as I averted my eyes, skin crawling a little at the memory of my mother’s ex doing something similar, yet so much worse. Mingi and San seemed to notice Yunho’s shift in mood and both turned to look at the TV, sighing when they saw what Yunho was looking at.

“I swear to God,” Mingi started muttering, turning his head away, “There’s always something fucked up happening every other day in this city…”

“I know,” San muttered, crestfallen, “I can’t count how many times my parents planned on moving away somewhere safer.”

I gulped, hoping my mother wouldn’t want to do the same. We’ve barely been here for five days, but—I started liking it here. There was something about this place that wasn’t as awful as I initially expected it to be. Did Yunho play a part in that to make me think so?

“Hey, I—I have to go to the washroom, don’t wait for me.” Yunho sounded nervous as he scrambled out of his seat, gulping as he paused for a second, “I’ll see you all in class.”

“Are you okay?” I found myself asking before Yunho could rush off.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me!” His smile seemed forced and my eyebrows furrowed as he hurried away, towards the exit of the canteen, sprinting out of sight. My eyes went back to the TV just in time to see everyone crouched down as the armed man, no doubt, fired some shots.

“Hey, you don’t have to look at that.” San offered, voice soft, “We can change seats, if you want.”

“Oh—no, thank you.” My cheeks turned red as I averted my eyes, offering San a small smile, “And uh—thanks for letting me sit with you guys, I know you don’t like me much.”

“Well, we’ve got all year to get to know each other, right, Mingi?” San threw a pointed look at his best friend and I was surprised to find him humming absentmindedly, pushing around his food.

“He always does this,” Mingi sighed, sounding worried, “disappears randomly whenever something bad is happening in the city.”

“Yunho?” I found myself asking in a whisper, but neither heard me.

“I told you so many times you’re reading too much into it, he just probably needs to take a dump or something—” San paused, cheeks flushing as he eyed me, but I acted like I didn’t hear what he had just said. Boys will be boys, I guess, “Anyways, break ends in fifteen, let’s finish up.”

So then, Yunho disappears often? Is that what Mingi was alluding to? But where to? And why only when something bad is happening in the city?

“Yeah, whatever.” Mingi muttered, pushing his tray of food away, knocking it into Yunho’s. He eyed his best friend’s tray and then sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes went back to the TV. And because I couldn’t help myself, I looked back too and—there he was, Spiderman. Saving the day, apparently. I guess he really is a hero.

“Hey, Y/N,” San spoke up again, mouth stuffed with food, cheeks puffed out, “I’ve seen you reading manga in class. Mingi likes it too, did you know?”

My eyes widened as I turned my head back towards the two boys sitting across me and chuckled, a little embarrassed, I wasn’t a good liar, “Oh, I, uh, nope. I didn’t know. Wow, that’s so…cool!”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, looking suspicious, “Yeah, cool.”

“Yup, cool.” I chuckled and then shut up because I didn’t want to further embarrass myself.

And after we went to class, with Mingi sitting in the back with a rather gruff classmate of ours and San at the front with a guy I haven’t yet met, I got soon lost in my thoughts, eyes fixated on a vacant spot. Yunho’s usual spot. He hadn’t returned to class; half an hour had passed since he had gone to the washroom—that is if I actually believed he was at the washroom. It was less likely, but then again, why would he lie? And just as if my thoughts were synchronized with Yunho’s actions, the door was flung open and there he was, breathless, as he made his way inside.

“Sorry for being late!” He apologizes, plastering on a sheepish smile, “I—got caught up?”

The teacher narrowed her eyes for a second before muttering something and ushering Yunho towards his spot. I kept my eyes on him, taking him in as his clothes looked a little dishevelled and—was that a faint bruise on his cheek? But before I could dwell more about it, Yunho—probably having sensed my insistent stare—turned his head and smiled widely, his wavy hair falling in his chocolate brown eyes. My heart skipped a beat—stupid heart! And then, Yunho waved quickly and turned around before the teacher could chastise him for that too. God, why did he have to be so damn cute all the time?!

The first week in the big, new, city was slightly unnerving and overall, a very new feeling, however, despite that, I found myself enjoying it once I got accustomed to my surroundings. Of course, my mom won’t let me out after six o’clock in the afternoon due to the unsafety of the neighbourhood we live in, but the skatepark just two blocks down certainly is a nice stress reliever. School wasn’t too bad by the second week either, less people paid attention to me and whispered about me when I passed them in the hallways, and—besides the fact that Yunho seems to never want to stay away from me for too long—which is freaking cute and certainly so very bad as I have the fattest crush on him—by now, even San and Mingi have started warming up to me. Of course, Mingi still remains his unimpressed and emotionless self—unless Yunho is there with us—but I did manage to make him crack a smile here and there—mostly when we are talking about our favourite mangas and such. San, on the other hand, is a completely different story. After Yunho left me with him and Mingi in the canteen—you know, when he mysteriously disappeared for half an hour while there was a bank robbery going on—ever since then, San has been very happy each time the boys would hang out with me. And what was even more surprising, is that he sought out my company when he was on his own—mostly bored—and so very eager to tell me every and each cool story he manages to remember about Yunho, or himself, sometimes even Mingi. San is actually quite good at diffusing the tension created by Mingi, and he is even better at talking for hours on end without realising that Yunho—and I—have gotten tired of hearing his voice so often. But do not misunderstand, Yunho absolutely adores San, and I also happen to quite like him. He’s sweet, but fierce and unapologetically honest. Much like Mingi, which makes me think they are Yunho’s closest friends because he is too nice for his own good and would get taken advantage of if it weren’t for the two hounding him like some sort of guardians or something.

As I clutched my phone in my left hand, rolling a pencil around in my right one, I froze for a second as I heard footsteps outside of my room, down the hallway. My door was closed as I was studying—well, actually, it’s just an excuse to be able to be on my phone without my mother seeing me every time she passes by my room. However, I halted my movements as shuffling came from right outside my door, and I panickedly tried to hide my phone underneath the two textbooks and three notebooks I had laying on my desk, pretending to be super confused about the equation I had to solve, as I started pouting just as my mother opened my door.

“Hey,” She called with a smile, making me put on my best clueless act, “how’s studying going?”

“Ugh, I hate maths.” I groaned and threw my pencil on the desk as I leaned back in my seat, “Can’t I just go to the skatepark? Please, mom.”

“Honey,” My mother chuckled, leaning against the doorway with an amused grin on her lips, “that skatepark isn’t going anywhere, however, if you fail your maths class…you might have to transfer to a new school—”

“No!” I didn’t mean to shout as I shoot up straight in my chair, blushing furiously as my mother raised her eyebrows at me. God dammit, this stupid crush I have on Yunho has me acting up—even though changing high-schools does sound awful. I’ve barely been at this one for two weeks, I can’t be changing schools so soon.

“Well, if you don’t want to fail, you know what to do.” My mother said with a chuckle as I tried to hide my blush. My eyes widened when my phone started buzzing underneath all the notebooks and textbooks. God, Yunho, texting back right now isn’t the smartest idea! But of course, he can’t know that my mother is standing in my doorway, under the impression that her daughter it studying her ass off, “Dinner’s ready in an hour.”

“Cool, I’ll join you once I’ve finished this exercise.” I shot my mom a quick smile, trying not to grimace as my phone buzzed again.

“Sure,” She snorted and pushed off the doorway, gripping the doorknob as she stepped out in the hallway, “giving me your phone would make you more productive, though.”

“What phone?” I forced on a grin that showed off all my teeth, making my mother shake her head at me as she left the room, closing my door behind her. I slumped in my chair and reached for my phone, clumsily pulling it out from underneath all of my things while creating a mess—nothing new—my room is always a mess, especially my desk. But as I went to check the messages Yunho had sent, there was a soft tapping against my window, and when I turned my head to look outside—I almost screamed.

I managed to just barely muffle it by pressing my hand against my gaping mouth as freaking Spiderman hung upside down outside my window, head tilted to the side. I took a second to digest the fact that the spider, but human like, creature was right there, waving at me and no doubt smiling as I saw the mask move underneath where his mouth is. I huffed and stood, patting my chest as my heart raced furiously against my ribcage, having been scared shitless by this Spiderman guy. I unlocked the window and pushed it upwards, opening it up for him. I watched as the web string he had hung on broke as he did a flip, landing on his two long feet. I froze a little as Spiderman leaned in, resting both elbows in the windowsill, placing his chin on his palm.

“Hi.” His voice was slightly altered again, and I cleared my throat, aware that I was wearing my worst possible clothes. I wasn’t expecting visitors—let alone Spiderman, “You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

“Well, yeah,” I scoffed, smoothing down my hair, “not a ghost, but a man that calls himself a spider. Ringing the front door next time would be less heart attack inducing, Mr. Spiderman.”

I didn’t expect the dude to laugh loudly, and my eyes widened as I reached forward, pressing my hand against his masked mouth to muffle the sounds he made—if my mother hears him, she’ll come to investigate, and I’m pretty sure she won’t be too happy to find a masked man in a full body costume outside my window, claiming to be some sort of hero of the city or something. My mother has never liked these superhero kind of things.

“Yeah, don’t call me Mr. Spiderman, please, it’s really cringey.” The spidey boy shivered and I chuckled, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Why? Aren’t you a man? Why would you call yourself Spiderman if you’re not a man?” The guy remained silent for a second before he started giggling, the voice modulator not doing a very good job at altering his voice. And for a second—but just for a second—I thought it sounded like Yunho’s giggles.

“I’m a man, well…almost a man.” Spiderman paused and I gave him a confused look, “I’m only eighteen, so not quite a man just yet.”

“You’re eighteen?!” I exclaimed, glancing back to make sure my mother wouldn’t come in like a bulldozer.

“Too old for you?” Spiderman asked with a chuckle, and I narrowed my eyes at him. I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“You’re the same age as me, dipshit.” I scoffed, leaning away from the window.

“Well, that’s certainly a special way to express your gratitude to the man that’s saved you once.” I bit my bottom lip, averting my eyes from the guy that was standing outside my window.

“So, do you stalk every person you manage to save?” I instead asked, trying to dodge the fact that I should be apologising for the not so nice thing I called him.

“I’m not stalking you.” He chuckled, and then pushed himself away from the windowsill, “I’m just here to make sure you’re okay—and that you’re doing your maths homework—”

“Hey!” My eyes widened as I quickly glanced at my desk, “Were you eavesdropping too?”

“Maybe?” Spiderman sounded almost embarrassed as he scratched the back of his neck, and I narrowed my eyes at him as I scoffed.

“Well, spidey boy, as you can see, I am doing just fine.” I raised my arms and did a mocking twirl for him, then placed my hands on my hips as I gave him a deadpanned look, “Anything else that I can satisfy your creepy needs with?”

“I’m not creepy!” He exclaimed quickly, making me scoff, “Okay, fine, whatever. Coming to your window maybe wasn’t very smart, but I—uh, well, do you trust me?”

“No?” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him as if he were crazy. Spiderman heaved a loud and long sigh and then extended a hand towards me, through the open window. I crooked an eyebrow at him curiously.

“I want to show you something.” His voice was soft, the voice modulator failed to do its job again, and I found his voice to be—soothing, warm. I gulped, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “I promise you’re safe with me. I saved you once, and I’ll do it as many times I have to.”

“That very weirdly sounds like it could be a love confession, Spiderman.” I said mockingly, but found my legs carrying me closer towards him. I glanced down at my phone to check the clock, and was surprised to see that in half an hour it would be six, “My curfew is at six, though, because of the neighbourhood and my mother not trusting the people yadda-yadda-yadda, so, we have to be back before six.”

“Yeah, that’s totally cool!” Spiderman clapped his hands together, sounding very excited. I chuckled and threw my phone on my bed, chewing my on my bottom lip when I realized I still haven’t texted Yunho back. I shouldn’t make him wait— “Are you coming, then?”

I looked back at Spiderman and took a deep breath—I’m sure Yunho will understand why I didn’t text back right away, I mean, I’m literally about to be kidnapped by Spiderman or whatever—okay, I do hope it’s not actually a kidnapping.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I accepted his extended hand, finding his costume soft to the touch. The white stripes that created the illusion of web on his costume were rougher to the touch, and I tried not to stumble as I climbed through my window, closing it so it wouldn’t look like I had climbed through it. Not that it would matter, if my mother comes inside my room while I’m not here, she’ll call the police in milliseconds.

“It’s a surprise.” Spiderman said cheekily, and his weird black eye winked at me, making me give him a disgusted look, “What?”

“Your eyes are—freaky.” I muttered as I released his hand, patting my clothes down. I adjusted the flannel shirt around my shoulders as they threatened to slip down them.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N—” Spiderman froze and I did too as we stood staring at each other in silence. Well, I have never told him my name before. Just like I hadn’t told Yunho where I lived when he walked me home the first time from the skatepark.

“It seems like you’re full of surprises too, Spiderman.” I pursed my lips and he cleared his throat, scratching his nape, no doubt feeling awkward.

“Anyways, let’s go.” He extended his hand once again and I chewed on my bottom lip as I weighted my options. To be fair, there’s only two outcomes to this if I leave with him right now. One, he shows me this super awesome surprise, and it’ll be a memory to hold onto. Two, he fucking murders me.

I took a tiny step forward and slipped my hand slowly in his, just now noticing how long and thin his fingers were as they were covered by the red fabric of his costume. I truly hope to God the second option I have in mind doesn’t come to fruition. I might be dead as fuck, but my mother will make sure to kill me twice!

“So, uhm, you, uh, have to hold onto me.” Spiderman was suddenly stammering all over himself, and I narrowed my eyes as I stepped a little closer, allowing this spider boy to sloth his fingers through mine, “Yeah, you have to come a lot closer, actually.”

“Does this usually work?” I asked, stepping in front of him, barely a few inches between us. Jesus Christ, this dude is super tall?! I have to crane my neck to look up at him; his height scarily reminds me of Yunho’s. Not that I have had the chance to stand this close to Yunho before, but his and Mingi’s heights can be quite intimidating at times—especially if Mingi is glaring at you, looking like he wishes your soul would perish right in front of his very eyes. Not cool, nor fun!

“What’s supposed to work?” Spiderman asked, sounding confused.

“Well, this is how you pick up girls, no?” I raised my eyebrows, and I swear to God, Spiderman sputtered for a second.

“No! I—I’ve never done this before!” A small pause, and then more stammering, “I mean—I have! Like, wait, not picking up girls—I’m not doing this to pick you up! However, the thing I’m about to do, yeah, I do it every time I have the suit on. It would be concerning if I didn’t, actually.”

“I’m confused.” I muttered, staring at Spiderman’s broad chest. Jesus, this guy is well doted, alright.

“Whatever, just—hold onto me, tightly.” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked up at Spiderman, only to find him already looking down at me. I sighed and took a second to figure out how to hold onto him while also keeping my distance, and so, I grabbed his shoulders with both hands, gripping it tightly. Spiderman didn’t move just yet, but then I felt his left arm around my middle, pulling me into his body. I tensed and tried to ignore the way my heart started beating fast, a little bit surprised by how warm spidey boy felt against my own body.

And then, without zero fucking preparation, Spiderman released—better said, shot—web from his right wrist—God, I really hope this dude doesn’t actually release these things from his body—and I followed with my eyes the trajectory of the web. And then, I gulped, mouth falling open quickly as Spiderman tested the durability of the web by tugging on it a few times, and then, he threw me a quick glance before he jumped. He jumped up and then—he never fucking made it back to the ground. We didn’t make it back to the ground! I gasped loudly as Spiderman’s arm tightened even more around my middle, our bodies swinging in the fucking air.

And to be fair, if spider boy loses his hearing, it’s not my fault. I didn’t even realize I had started shrieking as Spiderman shot another web from his wrist—ew—the one currently holding us snapping in two, falling to the ground. Consequently, we were free-falling in the air for a second, until our bodies were violently yanked forward again, Spiderman’s web finding the wall of another building. And I was still shrieking—right into his ear—to make matters better.

Spiderman’s hearing after our little escapade? Positively gone.

But hearing his quiet giggle somehow helped in making me shut up after another long minute of me screaming my ass off, heart hammering wildly against my chest. This was not fun! I wanted to go back home! I wanted to—oh, no. I instantly felt nauseous as I made the grave mistake of looking down past Spiderman’s shoulders, coming to the realization that we were up in the air—high up in the air! And I have Acrophobia! I squeaked like a helpless mouse as suddenly I started sweating profusely, fingers digging into Spiderman’s shoulders until I found my arms slipping further up, circling his neck as I clung onto him tightly, our bodies pressed together almost painfully tight. My hands shook as I forced my legs to raise and wrap around his waist, hooking them together behind his ass, squeezing the living shit out of his hips with my thighs. This wasn’t fun! I wasn’t enjoying this! I really really don’t like this surprise and I want to go home right now! On the ground! On my feet! Where it’s safe and I won’t be falling to my death—oh God, stop thinking about that right now!

“I have Acrophobia, you dipshit!” I found myself screaming over the wind blowing in our faces, the sounds of the city underneath us loud and making me squeeze my eyes shut as freaking birds started flying next to us. What the fuck!?

“Oh, fuck.” I heard Spiderman hiss to himself and I wanted to say, ‘yeah, oh fuck, you idiot!’, but I was frozen from fear, and couldn’t help but scream as the feeling of falling down returned, fingers—probably painfully—digging into the back of Spiderman’s head. I hope I yank on his baby hair strong enough to have him squirming in pain—wait, maybe that’s not so smart while we’re literally swinging around above the city and clinging onto some magic web or something! For a second, there was the feeling of free falling again, and then—nothing. The wind wasn’t blowing in our faces anymore, and we weren’t swinging left to right anymore either. Everything stood still around us, cars honking loudly underneath us, and rap music blasting from somewhere—we weren’t dead, right?!

I came to realize my breathing was ragged—now that we were stationary and I could actually think—and that my arms and hands were shaking uncontrollably, my whole body flushed against Spiderman’s as if I wished to become one with him. If that’s what keeps me alive while we swing above the city, we better morph into one person or something! I was too scared to open my eyes, and my muscles tensed even more when I felt two big hands run up and down my back.

“Hey, we’ve landed. You’re not in the air anymore, Y/N.” Spiderman spoke softly, and I felt him turn his head, but I only lowered mine and pressed it against his suited neck. I heard him release a small gasp as I gulped hard, trying to calm my nerves, and fight off a panic attack, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were scared of heights.”

“I need a second.” I found my voice as I croaked that out, trying to flex my fingers as they started cramping by how hard I was holding onto Spiderman.

“I can give you three more, if that’s what you need.” I felt Spiderman’s fingers tangle into my untamed hair as he tried to smooth down the wild strands, and I felt my cheeks flush. God, that’s embarrassing now.

“What I need—” I snapped, managing to detach myself from his neck finally, “is to kick your loser ass!”

And then I pried myself off his body and pulled my right fist back to swing it at his bicep. However, to my dismay, he didn’t even as much as flinch, only snorted, “I’ll break your nose if you laugh at me again! I literally have a phobia of heights and you go on and take me on a swing or whatever above the freaking city?! I’m going home—you’ve got to be kidding me.”

But finally taking a look around, realising the whereabouts of our location, I realized Spiderman landed us on a rooftop of a freaking tall building. I swung my fist at his chest this time, “Hey, hey, sorry, I didn’t know! Stop hitting me, Y/N, it tickles—”

“Tickles?!” I exclaimed and gave him a furious look as Spiderman awkwardly scrapped at his nape, angling his head downwards, “I just told you I almost died in your arms, and you tell me my punches tickle?!”

“No, no,” Spiderman suddenly rolled back his shoulders, clutching the bicep I’ve punched a minute ago, “your punches are so strong it could take down even Dr Octopus! I can’t feel my arm anymore.”

“Take down who?” My eyebrows furrowed as I stared at Spiderman, watching his fake act of being hurt as he clutched his arm as if it was about to fall off. Now he was just plainly mocking me.

“Nevermind—I’m sorry, I should have asked if you had a fear of heights first, before I took you here.” Spiderman mumbled as he scratched the back of his head, shuffling on his feet.

“Yeah, uhm, so, what are we doing here?” I asked as I circled my arms around my middle.

“Well, I wanted to show you the view but that’s not possible anymore.” He answered with a sigh, and he sounded quite defeated. I licked my lips and made sure to keep my eyes on the rooftop’s ground instead of looking around. I would pass out surely, and my hands are still trembling, my heart beating fast.

“Is this spot significant or something?” I mumbled as I kicked at nothing in particular.

“Yeah, when I’m stressed or worried, I come here to clear my mind.” Spiderman answered, walking to the edge of the rooftop. My heart did a somersault until I remembered literally nothing can happen to him, he sticks to things like a real spider—freaky.

“So, what’s got your stressed or worried right now?” I found myself asking as I crouched down, a little nauseated when Spiderman leaned over the edge, staring down at the bustling city underneath us. The people on the streets, the honking cars and music coming from down the street created a disturbing cacophony up here, but down there, it never sounded this messy.

“Nothing, I just wished to show you this place.”

“Why?” I asked as I looked up, finding him already looking at me. His eyes blinked, a feature of his mask I wished he didn’t have. It was weird, I didn’t like it.

“No particular reason.” Spiderman answered after he cleared his throat, however it didn’t sound sincere. He averted his eyes as he turned around and sat down on the ledge, swinging his legs over. I inhaled sharply, palms balling up into fists at his actions. I had to remind himself that he literally can’t die even if the wind pushes him over. Me—on the other hand—can and would one hundred percent die. And so, I found myself on my knees and hands as I slowly crawled towards him, trying to regulate my breaths as my heart started hammering in my chest again. As Spiderman heard movement, he tuned his head abruptly.

“What are you doing?” He sounded amused as he asked, looking down at me with his freaky blinking black mask eyes.

“I’m joining you without actually joining you.” I muttered as I reached the ledge, thankfully the brick wall reached up to one’s waist and I couldn’t see down as I sat down, turning my back to the ledge, and leaning against the cold structure. Spiderman’s eyes remained on me as I hugged my knees to my chest before I looked up at him, “Well, I’m sure the view is pretty.”

“Yeah, it is.” He whispered; eyes boring into mine. I gulped, something stirring in my stomach. I seriously am not about to develop a stupid crush on Spiderman too, right?! That would be freaking embarrassing. I already have a crush on Yunho and it’s more than enough—in fact, it’s fucking mortifying, because how am I supposed to act normal when I’m around him, and all I want to do is get lost in his beautiful chocolate brown eyes and listen to his soft voice all day long while demanding him to engulf me in his warm arms, swallow me up against his broad chest?! I have to stop thinking about Yunho right now—or whenever I feel my mind slipping into delusion land.

“So, Spiderman, what’s your story?” I raised my eyebrows at him, chuckling as Yunho came to mind again despite my efforts, “I have a friend who’s in love with you—”

“He’s not—” Spiderman cleared his throat, patting his chest, “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Right,” I narrowed my eyes at the guy and he swiftly turned his head away, looking down at the city, “so, I have this friend who really likes you—even has a Spiderman phone case—and I’m just curious to hear your story. You know, from someone who’s not a die-hard fan and sugarcoats things.”

“There’s no big story, to be honest.” Spiderman shrugged, fiddling with his fingers in his lap—Yunho often does that when he’s nervous, “I try to keep the order in the city and help the innocent, and those in need. It took the police some time until they started trusting me and liking me, but things aren’t as chaotic as they were before.”

“But, wait.” My eyebrows furrowed as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “If you’re eighteen now, for how long have you been Spiderman? Assuming that you weren’t born like this…?”

“It’s almost scary how much you know about me.” Spiderman teased and I huffed, rolling my eyes, “I’ve been Spiderman ever since I turned sixteen.”

“Wow.” I muttered, looking back up at the guy. He’s been putting his life on the line for two years now, that’s really selfless. Perhaps I can see why Yunho admires him so much, “Are you ever scared? That you’ll get really hurt or something. Does anyone know your real identity?”

“Yes, I do get scared, and yes, the guy who I grew up with knows about my identity.” The guy answered, placing his hands on both sides of his thighs as he started swinging his legs, “I can’t tell many people though, and that was really hard at the beginning. I hate lying, can’t lie well either if I’m being honest, and it just feels wrong to keep secrets from the people closest to me. However, it ensures their safety, so, at the same time I don’t mind keeping it from them.”

“For an eighteen-year-old dude,” I chuckled, leaning my head back against the brick wall, “you are quite mature.”

“Well, when you chase and fight criminals daily, you are forced to mature early.”

“Did you want to become like this? Turn into Spiderman?”

“No, my high-school was visiting a lab and a spider that was genetically mutated bit me.” Spiderman’s voice was quiet, and he sighed loudly soon after, “In case you’re wondering, I don’t regret it. I love being Spiderman even if at times I have to bring sacrifices.”

“Yeah, that’s unpleasant.” I muttered, resting my chin on my knees. I knew what it meant to bring sacrifices for those you loved, and it almost always wasn’t by your choice, but something you just had to do. Ugh, not me suddenly turning bitter and nostalgic. Spiderman coughed shortly, and I felt fingers in my hair. I tensed for a second, but then his long fingers were out of my hair the following second.

“You had a bug in your hair.” Spiderman explained and I hummed, turning my head to rest my right cheek on my knees so that I could look up at him, “What about you, Y/N, what’s your story?”

I chuckled, averting my eyes as I pursed my lips, “It’s not as noble as yours, that’s for sure, spidey boy.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, there’s just my mom and I around, and we’ve moved to the city two weeks ago.” I sighed, closing my eyes as the evening breeze picked up, it wasn’t warm, but at least it wasn’t too cold just yet, “My father abandoned us a month before I was born, so my mom raised me up all alone with her mother’s help sometimes. She had her fair share of questionable partners, but they were never as evil as her last ex-fiancé.

“The guy was a criminal, he murdered three people and then tried to blame it on being so crazily in love with my mother that he wasn’t completely sane anymore. It was fucking comical; I hate that piece of shit. He’s threatened me numerous times and would throw me around the house when mom wasn’t around, saying how I’d end up six feet under if I didn’t keep my mouth shut about it.

“He never liked me for some reason, always claimed my mom focused more on me than on him—the fucking idiot. He has hit me a few times, and once my mother finally noticed, she tried to leave him, but he threatened to kill us. It was crazy, absolute madness, trying to get away from him—until the police came knocking on our door one night, claiming that they were there to arrest my mom’s ex for murder. The whole town was freaking shook, us included.”

Well, and that’s on trauma dumping, I guess. But he asked, after all, and I just told Mr. Spidey my story. It felt nice letting someone know about my past, however, it didn’t exactly feel right that I said all that to a stranger. I always thought Yunho would be the first person to find out about the whole story behind our recent move.

I gulped, feeling slightly guilty for having told all that to Spiderman, and I jumped when I felt fingers touching my cheek. I blinked my eyes open, finding Spiderman on his knees as he was leaned over, down towards me, fingers gently pressing against my cheek, “Nothing like that will ever again happen to you, Y/N, I promise. As long as I live, I promise to protect you.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I raised my head up from my knees, Spiderman’s warm hand cupping my face, “You don’t even know me, Spiderman.”

“I know enough.” He whispered and I gulped, heart beating fast as we gazed into each other’s eyes, his black mask unblinking for once. My lips parted and I shivered as the breeze turned stronger, Spiderman’s thumb gently rubbing my chin. It felt like I couldn’t look away, like the gap was slowly closing between us—until an alarm went off blaring, making both of us jump. Spiderman was up on his feet in a second, looking down at his wrist watch.

“Well, your curfew starts in ten minutes.” His voice was a little hoarse and he quickly cleared his throat, “We should head back if we don’t want your mom freaking out.”

“I’m not swinging around in your arms above the city again, Spidey!” I snapped, giving him a pointed glare as he jumped off the ledge, crouching down in front of me.

“The closest station is a five-minute walk away from here and the bus won’t come for another ten minutes. If I count correctly, that’s past your curfew, and there’s no direct bus to your neighbourhood from here.” Spiderman sounded smug as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Where even are we?”

“The east end of the city—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. That’s a fourteen-minute ride by bus! My mom is so going to kill me tonight.

“Just hold on tight, and I promise not to drop you—”

“That’s not funny!” I snapped as I shakily stood, glaring at Spiderman. But he just chuckled, clearly amused.

“You were like a koala when we came here, it was cute.”

“Shut up.” I grumbled, trying to ignore the way my cheeks flushed when Spiderman opened his arms for me. This is the first and last time he carries me around the city like this.

Spiderman didn’t show up again at my window to whisk me away for a—swing? —maybe he was just too embarrassed to show his face again. Well, masked face. Admittedly, there’s been only three days since I was visited by the superhero, randomly on a Tuesday afternoon, and trust for me to brag all about it to Yunho. Not that I was mocking him—maybe a little bit—about getting to meet his superhero in person before he did, it’s just that it was funny seeing his reactions as I retold everything to him. He seemed to be even more excited when he heard it in person, as I had called him the second I got home from the outing. Now, school was finally over and I could go home and sleep. The city was buzzing with life last night and the police raided our street around midnight, talk about a man having escaped form an asylum spread around fast. Apparently, the man had been hiding in the basement of one of my neighbour’s houses’. Creepy. Spiderman, surprisingly, didn’t show up, but I suppose it wasn’t necessarily an emergency as it wasn’t a very dangerous person. Besides, I think Spiderman also needs his beauty sleep—like us, mere mortals do.

I stretched as we walked through the gates of the high-school, greeting the groundkeeper as he shot us a look since San was cackling loudly as he watched a video on his phone, volume cranked up to the maximum. Mingi had his arm thrown around Yunho’s shoulders, lips pursed as he watched some younger girls run past them while giggling and shooting them stares.

“Do you think Bomi will finally ask me out?” Mingi mused quietly, turning his head to stare at the long-haired girl that had just passed by with her friends.

“Don’t know, have you finally spoken to each other?” Yunho raised his eyebrows at his best friend, expertly grabbing the strap of my backpack as he halted my steps, yanking me backwards and out of the way of a speeding bike.

“Jesus.” I hissed, clutching my skateboard to my chest, “What an idiot—”

“Hey, watch it, you!” San shouted after the guy, who was already at the end of the street, “You could run over someone!”

“Nice reflexes.” Mingi teased, and detached himself from his friend at last. I gulped and turned to thank Yunho; my cheeks flushed pink. Well, that was embarrassing, but it could’ve ended a lot worse.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Yunho’s smile was soft and warm, and I gulped, averting my eyes quickly. But fucking hell, Mingi and I made eye contact, and he narrowed his eyes at me. That dude is onto something and I don’t like how easily he can see right through me.

“We haven’t spoken to each other yet…” Mingi casually continued the conversation he was having with Yunho, deep voice trailing off.

San chuckled amused, finally stopping the video on his phone as he raised his head, “Well, then, what are you expecting? She won’t ask you out if you don’t talk to her—wait, why are you sure she’s into you? She could be into me, or even Yunho.”

I pursed my lips, totally not feeling jealous over the fact that other living people could have a crush on Yunho! And let’s be real, who the hell wouldn’t have a crush on freaking Yunho?! He’s basically—perfect!

“You underestimate my awesomeness, San.” Mingi huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “And she’s not into you, you’re too short.”

“Hey, I’m not short!” San exclaimed offended, then looked at me with round eyes, “I’m not short, right?!”

“Of course not.” I chuckled, smiling at him, “It’s Mingi who’s too tall.”

“Says the midget.” Mingi scoffed, throwing me a glare. Will this dude ever like me?

“Okay, let’s stop shaming each other for our heights—or anything else, actually.” Yunho, always the peacemaker, grinned as he squeezed Mingi’s shoulder once, and then draped his long arm around my own shoulders, making my heart somersault in my chest.

“We’ll talk about this more later,” San said, eyes narrowed, “I have to catch my bus now, see ya!”

And with a wave, he ran off, totally in the complete opposite of where his bus stop was. I watched on as he caught up with a guy from our class, I have finally learned his name—Jung Wooyoung—and the two hugged briefly as San grabbed the guy’s arm and started yanking him towards the metro station. Yeah, they certainly weren’t headed home.

“Are you coming over?” I focused back on the two tall best friends, Mingi’s voice quiet as he looked at Yunho. I knew the offer didn’t stand for me as well, Mingi would never invite me over to his place.

“Not today.” Yunho had an apologetic look on his face, and then he squeezed my shoulder, “I’ve got something else to do.”

“Asshole,” Mingi whispered with a pout as a black car pulled up next to us, “see you two tomorrow, then.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you know I love you.” Yunho managed to ruffle Mingi’s hair before he got in the car, making Mingi scoff as a smile blossomed on his face.

“Yeah, whatever, love you too.” And then he opened the door and sat inside, but he didn’t close the door until the threw me a look that made me gulp. What did I do to make this guy dislike me so much?! At this point, I have given up, there’s no point in trying to decipher the riddle that Song Mingi is.

Suddenly, super aware that Yunho and I were alone now as the black car drove off, I gulped and clutched my skateboard just a little tighter. I took a peek at Yunho, and he was already looking down at me with a small smile, “So, do you want to go home right away?”

“Depends, why?” I asked quietly, praying to God my face wouldn’t turn into a tomato as Yunho slightly leaned down, closer to my face.

“There’s a really nice park not even ten minutes away from here, wanna go?” Of course, I want to go, Jeong Yunho.

“Sure.” I nodded, smiling back at him, face burning. Great, only a blind man would be oblivious to the fat-ass crush I have on Yunho at this point! It’s so embarrassing, but I can’t help it when he looks so—cute!

“See that convenience store there?” He turned his head and pointed at the store, which was just down the road. I nodded, and looked at him with a questioning gaze, “Race you there!”

And before I could fully register what he said, Yunho released me and took off in a sprint towards the convenience store. My mouth opened in surprise and I blinked, finally somehow realizing we were competing to see who gets there first. But with Yunho having a head start, I grinned and dropped my skateboard onto the ground. I quickly pushed off and gained more speed as I manoeuvred between the people on the sidewalk, grinning from ear to ear as I started gaining on Yunho. He’s really fast, but it shouldn’t be so surprising as I have seen him in P.E. class already, and he’s one of the best athletes I know. He’s agile and super-fast, he has good reflexes, and is a total team player. The guys love picking him in their team when they are playing football. I giggled as I came up just behind Yunho, pushing harder as my foot hit the pavement, the wind whipping my hair in my face for a second as the store came into view. We were almost there. I did an ollie to jump over the top of a drain, managing to come up a little ahead of Yunho. I laughed as I rolled forward, just barely making it to the convenience store first. I did a small spin and then set my foot down, coming to a stop as Yunho reached me. He was breathing hard as he leaned over, placing his hands on his knees. I grinned at him, and gripped the foot of my skateboard, reaching out to ruffle his fluffy greyish-greenish-blueish hair. I have never done that before, and for a second, I panicked, but Yunho didn’t react badly to my action, he just smiled and shook his head.

“I didn’t think I’d lose.” He said with a laugh and then stood up straight, running his long fingers through his hair. He wore more rings today, and one looked suspiciously like a ring I have seen Mingi wear before.

“You can’t win at everything, Yunho.” I stuck my tongue out playfully before I turned to walk inside the convenience store, “I’ve never met a more competitive person than you are.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Yunho chuckled as he followed closely behind me, looking at the shelves as we went down the snack aisle, “But you can’t say it wasn’t fun.”

“It was.” I looked over my shoulder with a grin as Yunho grabbed some potato chips off a high shelf, “But next time give me a warning, I only got lucky because I had my skateboard with me. You didn’t play fairly.”

Yunho chuckled and I grabbed some salty crackers, “Sometimes we need the element of surprise, Y/N, in order to excel.”

“Aha, so now you’re saying you knew I would win if you didn’t warn me first?” I raised an eyebrow at him, making Yunho chuckle as he grabbed my shoulder and veered me towards the fridges in the back.

“I knew you’d win.” He muttered and I tried not to blush—again—as I opened the fridge and grabbed some Sprite, while Yunho grabbed a larger bottle of water, leaning over me to retrieve it and—yeah, I tried not to pass out as I felt his breath hit the top of my head, his warmth radiating off him due to our closeness. However, the moment was over as quickly as it came.

Thankfully, I still had the money my mother gave me last week, otherwise it’d be really embarrassing to have Yunho buy something for me again. Well, technically, last time neither one of us paid for it at Hongjoong’s store, but still. I didn’t want him paying for my things, I’d feel like I owe it to him now.

We approached the front desk and the clerk looked very bored and done with us as he gave us a glare—similar to Mingi’s, and it made snort quietly—as he scanned our items. I had pulled the money out of the front pocket of my backpack as the clerk told us our total, and I was totally handing him the amount I had to pay for, when Yunho pushed my wrist to the side and placed the whole sum on the counter. I opened my mouth to clearly argue with him, but he grabbed our items and grinned so widely I feared it would be the reason why I’d go blind—and not from the fact that I’ve been trying to look into the sun for ages now without squinting my eyes, not too smart, but I never claimed to be smart. I muttered a goodbye to the clerk as Yunho pushed the door open for me and stepped outside to make enough space for me to pass through the narrow doorway.

“Let me carry my things.” I said as the door closed behind us, but Yunho just shook his head.

“You have to carry your skateboard, don’t fret about it.” My eyebrows furrowed as he took off towards the park he had mention, I could see it from here. It was just a little up ahead of us, to the right, between three buildings.

“I’ll give you my part of the sum when we have sat down.” I said as I tried to keep up with his long strides—damn his long legs, God has favourites, and as much as Yunho is one of his favourites, I certainly am not.

“Nah, you don’t have to.” Yunho grinned, and I noticed a gummy worm hanging out from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, I do.” I huffed, walking towards the gate of the park, “And where’d you get that gummy from?”

“From here.” And he pointed at the pocket of his suit jacket—who the hell wears a suit jacket to school, good lord it’s so hot when Yunho wears it, I seriously had trouble focusing all day long because of it. I reached my hand out and stole a gummy worm from his pocket, giggling as I made disgusting slurping noises as I put it in my mouth, and sucked it in in one go. Yunho’s eyebrows raised before he burst out into deep giggles, throwing his head back a little—and I choked, almost. I coughed as the gummy worm almost managed to slip down my throat, but I saved it somehow last minute. Eating gummy worms around Jeong Yunho is dangerous, noted.

“Why was that kind of cute?” Yunho asked with a chuckle as he chose a spot to sit, underneath a tall tree, offering us enough shade from the, now, not so hot sun. I placed my skateboard down, and followed Yunho as he plopped down, the sound of his butt colliding with the grass making me snort. He looked up at me with a pout and then grabbed my arm and pulled me down, almost making me fall into his freaking lap. It didn’t even take a second for my cheeks to turn pink, and I threw Yunho a small glare as I regained my balance and sat down next to him, mirroring his position. Our backs were leaning against the tree, legs splayed out long in front of us as I took my crackers and Sprite from Yunho.

“What was cute?” I asked as I opened the bag of crackers, desperate to wash away the extra sweet taste that remained in my mouth due to the gummy worm.

“You,” Yunho muttered, opening his water bottle, “and the sound you made. You’re funny.”

“I didn’t think you’d find me acting like an Ogre cute, but thank you, I guess.” My comment made Yunho laugh hard again as he threw his head back, prompting me to giggle along. His laughter was contagious, and I realized my stomach was coiling tightly—and not due to the sweets and unhealthy food I have digested so far today. It was because of Yunho, and because all I want to do right now is to lean up and press a kiss against his cheek. God dammit.

“You’d make a cute Ogre.” Yunho mused once he had calmed down, then took a sip of his water.

“Please,” I playfully rolled my eyes, popping another salty cracker into my mouth, “you’d be totally into the green swamp monster I’d turn into. Fiona’s got nothing on me.”

“Not the way I thought you’d find this out about me, but—” Yunho paused for dramatic effect, and I raised my eyebrows at him, “I’m totally into Fiona, have been since I was little.”

“Oh, my God!” I cackled, shielding my mouth with my hand as I still haven’t chewed all the crackers, “Yunho! That’s just—you have to explain yourself now!”

“Why, don’t tell me you never had a crush on a fictional character!?” Yunho exclaimed, sounding exasperated as he bumped his shoulder against mine. I licked my lips and tried not to burst out laughing at the memory of who I’ve always had a crush on when I was younger.

“Okay…” I took a deep breath and turned my head to face Yunho, “Have you ever heard about the cartoon ‘W.I.T.C.H.’?”

“Yeah, Hongjoong really liked it while we were growing up,” Yunho said with a chuckle, “He’d make us watch it every evening when they played it on the TV, I think he was into Cornelia.”

“Well, Cornelia is a good, and hot, choice to have a crush on, indeed.” I pursed my lips and offered my bag of crackers to Yunho, who took one with a small grin, “I mean, I was totally into Caleb, but—”

“Really? Caleb?” Yunho asked surprised, narrowing his eyes, “I thought you’re more of a Matt girl.”

“Well, I’m actual neither a Caleb nor Matt girl, Yunho.” I giggled, leaning in closer as if I was telling a secret, “You see, I always found myself blushing a little bit too hard when Lord Cedric was on the screen—”

“No way!” Yunho exclaimed, eyes turning round as he looked shocked, “The snake guy?!”

“Well, don’t look at me like that after admitting you’re into Fiona!” I exclaimed back with a laugh, making Yunho look at me like I was crazy.

“Fiona was a princess who decided to turn into an Ogre to stay with the love of her life, meanwhile, Lord Cedric was obsessed with his king, he could into a snake, and he once ate someone, Y/N!” I bit my bottom lip, trying not to laugh at how passionate Yunho was all of a sudden.

“Each to its own, I guess.” I said nonchalantly with a shrug, making Yunho’s initial shock turn into amusement as he started laughing once again. I’ve never heard him laugh so much before, and I found myself smiling at him as his ears turned slightly rosy, eyes screwed shut as his shoulders shook from laughter. He looked completely and absolutely beautiful, and my heart was hammering against my ribcage, threating to fall out of my ass at any given moment. Oh, God, I’m so screwed.

“I swear to God, you and Mingi are cut from the same cloth. He’s also into weird humanlike creatures or something.” Yunho said once he had calmed down, and I quickly turned my head away when he looked at me, feeling like he caught me staring and admiring him.

“Not you shaming both Mingi and I for having silly childhood crushes.” I said with a pout, throwing a cracker into my mouth.

“Mingi still crushes on characters like those, though.” I chuckled, glancing at Yunho from the corner of my eyes, finding him looking at me with a small smile on his lips, cheeks flushed. God, he’s not blushing, right?! Why would he blush, it must be the sun. Yup, certainly the sun!

“I’ll tell him you made fun of him behind his back.” I teased as Yunho grabbed a cracker, leaning his head back against the tree.

“I fear it won’t phase him; San makes fun of him daily for it.” Yunho said, sounding amused. I chuckled and copied Yunho as I leaned my head back against the tree too, suddenly becoming aware of how close we were sitting next to each other. Our shoulders and thighs were pressed together, and Yunho’s elbow was softly poking into my stomach. I bit my lower lip and allowed the comfortable silence to settle upon us, watching the people that passed by the park. The traffic wasn’t so bad here, and there was a bus stop straight across the park. A sports car, with a super loud engine drove past, the sound making me wince for a second. And as I watched a mother with her two children open the gate of the park, I felt a hand in my hair, fingers twirling a longer strand. My heart stilled for a second, knowing well that it was Yunho, and I took a peek at him.

“Oh,” He suddenly retracted his hand, looking away embarrassed, “sorry, there was uh—something in your hair. A bug.”

Funny, Spiderman did that too.

“Thanks.” I offered him a small smile and watched as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, funny how that now reminded me of Spiderman too, “I hate bugs.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” Yunho said as he finally looked me in the eyes, his ears, however, still slightly red.

“Aren’t you a cool guy, Jeong Yunho?” I winked playfully and Yunho chuckled before we became silent again. I popped another cracker into my mouth and then offered the bag to Yunho, who took some more, and funnily stuffed his mouth full of them. I chuckled and proceeded to eat some more too, placing my left hand on my thigh as I tried to enjoy this peaceful moment. I’ve never had this back in my hometown. I didn’t have many people to hang out with, and the ones I did hang out with were always the bad type of kids, kids who wanted to break the rules and bother others. It was nice to finally embrace the tranquillity, and just simply exist without ruining others fun. Many people didn’t like me back in my hometown due to me associating myself with those rascals.

Lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice that something was softly poking my hand, the feeling just barely there, like the ghost of a touch. I watched the two children play around, climb into the smaller trees and wave at their mother as they laughed. When the light touch became more insistent, I flipped my hand around, thinking it was just an ant or something that I could flick away, but instead, I felt warm fingertips just barely trace the lines of my palm. I gulped and tried not to tense up as I looked down, eyes falling on Yunho’s hand as his long fingers pushed a little more decisively against my palm. I blinked and looked up at Yunho, but he was looking down at our hands, lips parted as if he was in a trance. I was curious—I had to know—so without thinking much, I gently intertwined our fingers, and waited. For something to happen, anything. But other than a tiny smile appearing on Yunho’s lips and his grip turning slightly firmer, nothing happened. Well, nothing besides the frightening feeling of my heart exploding out of my chest, and my cheeks burning so much you could probably fry a steak on it or something. I didn’t know where to put this exactly, what to think of it, but the seemingly trance Yunho was in, was broken the second loud sirens rung and police cars were suddenly wheezing down the street, the loud noise disturbing the tranquil atmosphere that had settled around us. Yunho became instantly tense as his head snapped up, eyes focused up ahead as he untangled his hand from mine, grabbing his backpack. I watched him curiously as he took his phone and opened it up, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

“I—I, uh, I have to go.” My eyebrows furrowed as I watched Yunho scramble up, leaving his water and potato chips on the ground, “My mom just texted me; something came up—I have to go.”

“Is everything alright?” I asked worried, watching Yunho bounce on his feet as he looked one second away from sprinting off.

“Yeah, it’s—everything’s okay, I just really have to go right now.” He finally looked at me, chewing on his bottom lip, looking like he was hesitating, “Don’t wait for me, your bus will come in ten minutes. Get home safely, text me when you do.”

“Oh, okay, uhm, you take care too.” But Yunho ran off before I could even finish my sentence, and I watched impressed as he jumped over the fence—which wasn’t very tall, but I wouldn’t have been able to do that surely—and then he was sprinting down the sidewalk, apologising to people as he had to push them out of his way.

Huh, that was weird and another interesting coincidence. I couldn’t help but think back to Mingi mentioning Yunho’s disappearances whenever something major and bad was happening in the city. Certainly, they were mere coincidences.

But Yunho never quite texted back yesterday, and it would be a lie if I say I didn’t worry about him. His departure from the park was sudden, and his absence conjured up all sorts of thoughts in my mind. It was strange and very unlike Yunho. When I was on the bus, headed to school and completely sleepy and almost out of it, I was scrolling through Tik Tok, trying to awaken myself a little bit after I have texted San to inquire information about Yunho. He reassured me that there were days when Yunho would go low on contact, but he was completely fine, and that usually he spent his time with family when he wouldn’t text back. I could understand that, but it still worried me. Just as I was about to exit the app, I came across a crappy video on my for your page that depicted many police cars and even more officers as they had someone surrounded. And then, the superhero, the one that always saves the day around here, Spiderman swooped in and all you could see was his web flying around, and a man getting strapped to a pole until a gunshot rang out followed by a loud cry of pain, and then the video cut off. My eyebrows furrowed as I let it replay again, chewing on my bottom lip nervously. Who got hurt? You couldn’t see it in the video, and I couldn’t help but think that it was Spiderman. Without thinking much, I sent the video to San and asked if he knew anything. The reply, unsurprisingly, came fast, and he said that Spiderman got injured yesterday as one of the criminal’s managed to escape. He got shot in his left leg. I cringed at the thought, and then put my phone away having arrived to the high-school. I certainly wasn’t in the mood nor headspace to attend any of my classes today, but at least I’d get to see Yunho, and make sure that he’s okay.

Except that, very uncharacteristically to Yunho, he showed up a little late to our first class, and he even looked quite dishevelled with dark bags under his eyes. He looked like he didn’t have a good night’s sleep and—I almost failed to notice the slight limp he had in his left leg. Huh, I wonder if anything happened, or have I started seeing things now? However, I didn’t get many chances to ask Yunho about it as he seemed to be always busy talking to our teachers, or to everyone else in the hallways, barely paying attention to San, Mingi, or even me. It was strange, but San said it was completely normal behaviour coming from Yunho, and that he’d do this from time to time when he felt pressured. Apparently, Yunho rarely opens up to his best friends as he hates bothering others with his issues. But I wanted to know what was bothering him. He wouldn’t be a bother to me. But I couldn’t do that as he only sat for us for five minutes in the canteen during our lunch break, and then rushed off saying he had something to take care of. But after that, he never returned to classes. My texts also went unanswered, and by the evening, I was positively nervous and stressed out of my mind by the fact that I didn’t know what was wrong. I even debated on asking San for Yunho’s home address to pay him a quick visit in order to make sure that he was indeed okay. Even my mom noticed how absentminded and worried I was during dinner, but didn’t pester me much when I lied that the teachers were stressing me out with upcoming tests—which maybe wasn’t too smart as she told me I should study even more. Ugh.

Currently, we have finished having dinner and I have tied the trash bag together to take the trash out. I slipped on my outdoor shoes swiftly and unlocked the front door, my mom’s series playing loudly in the living room as she giggled at whatever was said. The air was chilly outside and the single long-sleeved blouse and joggers I was wearing did an awful job at keeping me warm, so, I quickly skipped down the stairs and went to the small alley between our house and the building. That’s where the big trash bins were, by the tall fence. It was dark outside, so I tried to be quick as I dragged the trash bag after me, shivering due to the cold. I huffed loudly, smog leaving my mouth, as I rounded the corner and gave the short alleyway a quick check that it was empty before I hurried down, opening the big trash bin. I threw the bag inside and let it shut loudly afterwards. I rubbed my arms up and down as I turned around and walked back down the alleyway, gasping loudly as a silhouette appeared right around the corner. It was hunched over slightly and breathing loudly, groaning too. God, I fucking hate this neighbourhood, why do I always have to encounter random drunk people or even worse—criminals!? But I really had to head back inside the house—climbing through my window wasn’t an option as it was locked—and I willed myself to just run past them and back inside the safety of my house. However, just as I made it under the streetlamp, I paused. The red and blue suit was torn at the chest, and Spiderman seemed to be struggling to stand up straight.

“Oh, my God!” I whispered, approaching him, “What happened to you?!”

“Oh, Y/N.” He muttered, groaning again as he tried to stand up tall.

“Stop that,” I hissed, eyebrows furrowing as I tried to inspect his wound, but it wasn’t visible through the gash on the suit, “Come on.”

Spiderman only resisted for a second as I placed his arm around my shoulders, offering him support as he leaned against my much smaller frame. He was heavy, but I was determined, and the front porch was barely a few steps away, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you inside my house, think you can keep quiet until we reach my room?” I looked up at Spiderman, who gulped as we reached the front steps.

“Yeah.” He whispered and I let out a small sigh, taking one step at a time as we ascended the stairs. I pushed the door open carefully and walked us inside, pausing in the hallway to make sure my mother was still in the living room, watching her series. I looked at Spiderman and signalled to him to remain quiet as I lead us down the hallway, headed for my room. I opened the door and helped him towards my bed, on which he fell down quite unceremoniously, groaning loudly.

“Okay, you still have to keep quiet.” I said with a frown, glancing behind me, “I’ll be back in a second with a medical kit.”

Spiderman nodded and I swiftly left my room, pulling the door shut until it was only slightly ajar, and sneaked back down the hallway. I opened the front door again and closed it louder, locking it up, “Mom, I’m going to bed now! I’m really sleepy.”

“Alright, sweet dreams, honey.” She threw a flying kiss my way as she glanced back and I smiled, catching it playfully before I was off, headed for the bathroom. I took the medical kit from underneath the small cupboard we had in there, and then I was back inside my room, closing and locking the door after myself.

“Alright,” I whispered, looking at Spiderman and trying not to panic as I noticed blood seeping through his suit, “how do we do this?”

“Uh,” He groaned again, sitting up lightly, “you can patch me up through the costume.”

“I can?” I muttered confused as I walked closer, placing the kit down by the bed as I crouched down. I leaned closer to his chest and carefully touched the costume, not too surprised to find it not peeling off his body, “I can’t, Spiderman, the costume literally clings to your body.”

“Oh, that’s not good.” He mused, scratching his nape, “I have to take it off, then.”

“Oh—like—the whole costume?” My voice was squeaky all of a sudden, and I averted my eyes as I felt myself blush lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” Spiderman whispered and I gulped, trying not to freak out. Yeah, this is cool and totally okay, nothing too sensational. I’m just helping a wounded guy, no biggie, it’s not like I’m going to see him naked! He must have underwear on, right?!

“I think I accidentally took some of my mom’s exe’s clothes with me when I was packing, let me check.” And I stood up and hurried over to my closet, finding the sweatpants and t-shirt that I had in mind.

“Great.” Spiderman grumbled and I rolled my eyes.

“Hey, you don’t get to be picky when you’re about to bleed out on my bed!” I hissed, trying to control my tone and not raise my voice out of fear of alerting my mom.

“Right, sorry.” Spiderman muttered and I approached him again.

“How do we take the suit off?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed. I’ve never seen something like this before, so I have no idea what superheroes do in this case.

“There’s a zipper on the back.” He explained and I nodded, going to the side of the bed to be able to see Spiderman’s back.

“Will—will the mask come off too?” I asked in a whisper as I hesitated to touch the zipper.

“No, don’t worry.” Spiderman answered and I huffed, gripping the zipper and carefully undoing it. It went all the way down to his lower back, and I blinked a few times as I tried to ignore the smooth skin underneath the suit.

“Uh, right, I assume you can undress yourself the rest of the way?” I asked as I stepped back, averting my eyes as my cheeks were burning.

“Yeah, one second.” Spiderman huffed and he carefully stood, groaning quietly. I closed my eyes and shrivelled around, not too keen of staring at him while he changes out of his costume. I might see something I don’t want to, and that’s not cool. I listened closely as he shuffled around, groaned a few times, and then plopped back down on the bed, “Okay, I have changed.”

“Great—” I gasped as my eyes fell on his exposed torso, eyes widening at the big gash running across his chest, “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital right now?!”

Spiderman chuckled, and my eyebrows furrowed more as I went back to my previous position in front of him. I kneeled and took the medical kit, opening it up.

“If we clean the wound, it’ll take around two to three hours to heal by itself.” He said, tone reassuring as I grabbed some gauze and rubbing alcohol, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“So, then, did you get shot yesterday?” I asked, pouring rubbing alcohol on the gauze before I looked up, “I saw the videos.”

The sight of having Spiderman in nothing but sweatpants and his mask, sitting on my is bed certainly—a sight to behold. Perhaps if he wasn’t hurt at the moment, I’d be gaping at his well-defined physique, his lean muscles, the faint abs on his stomach, his wide shoulder and broad chest—focus, woman!

“Yeah, I did get shot.” Spiderman said, and I hoped he’d ignore the way I tried not to thirst over his body. I’m such a horrible person right now, kill me.

“This will hurt, I assume.” I warned as I leaned up and gently pressed the gauze against the edge of the gash, making Spiderman hiss, “Sorry, I did warn you though.”

“I know, don’t worry.” He chuckled and I noticed his hands balling up the blanket as he gulped loudly the lower my hand slipped on the gash, trying to clean the wound as carefully but thoroughly as possible.

“Is your leg fine, then?” I asked, trying to avert his attention from the pain. Spiderman hummed, low in his chest, almost rumbling under my touch. I gulped and tried to focus—this is so not the moment to even think to fantasize about this superhero dude!

“It’s a bit still sore, the bullet went in deep, but it healed up by noon.” He explained and I hummed, for some reason finding it weird that Yunho seemed to be limping this morning, and that he disappeared around noon. Certainly, I was playing along to Mingi’s delusions and suspicions about Yunho at this point, and I don’t even spend that much time with Mingi. It’s ridiculous. How could Yunho be Spiderman? But then again…is it really that unbelievable? It could be anyone, for God’s sake, even me! Well, obviously not me, but you know what I mean!

“I’m glad that’s healed.” I muttered, getting to the other end of the gash finally, “Are you sure this one doesn’t need stitches, it looks to be deep, Mr. Spidey.”

Spiderman chuckled, and I felt his hand wrap around my wrist as I dabbed the gauze against the wound again. I froze, eyes widening a little at the familiarity of the touch. Yunho’s hands are always warm and quite big, his fingers long. I bit my bottom lip as I looked down at Spiderman’s hand, noticing the marks that looked like they were left by rings. Yunho would also have marks left by rings on his fingers on days he didn’t feel like wearing them. I gulped and then looked up; Spiderman’s freaky black masked eyes unblinking as he looked down at me.

“It won’t need stitches, Y/N.” He whispered, and a tingle ran down my spine, making me gulp down nothing in particular, having to clear my throat as I averted my eyes, gently pulling my hand back. Spiderman released his grip on me instantly and followed me with his eyes as I threw the bloody gauze back inside the medical kit until I’d throw it away. I then stood, rubbing my hands together as I didn’t know what to do next.

“I, uh—is that enough?” I asked, motioning towards the clean gash now, averting my eyes from his torso when they threatened to run all over it again.

“Yes, thank you.” Spiderman muttered, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “You’re an angel.”

Oh, fuck. My cheeks flushed instantly and I pulled my hair behind my ears as I cleared my throat again, looking past Spiderman, at my poster covered wall, “Right, yeah, uh—do you need anything else?”

“A little time to recover would be nice if I’m not bothering you too much.” Spiderman said, voice sounding hopeful.

“It’s fine, my mom won’t bother us as she thinks I’ve gone to bed.” I explained, placing my hands behind my back awkwardly, “Uhm, you said it takes two to three hours to heal, do you think this one will heal that fast if the wound made by the gun didn’t?”

Spiderman shrugged, and I watched as he finally took the white t-shirt I have given him in his hands, “It’ll certainly take longer than that, sometime around the early morning hours I should be fine.”

“Then stay.” I blurted out before I could actually think about what I was proposing. Spiderman froze for a second as he was about to wear the t-shirt, “I mean, you’re hurt and it’s dangerous outside, even Spiderman deserves to rest and be safe, no?”

He poked his masked head through the t-shirt, “Well, yes, but—”

“Then sleep here.” I motioned at the bed he was sitting on, “I will go to my mom and tell her I had a really bad nightmare, and that I wish to sleep next to her.”

“I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“Hey, Spidey, it’s totally cool.” I chuckled, showing him my thumbs up, “I’ll have so much fun retelling all this to Yunho, you know, my friend who’s obsessed with you. He’ll be dying that I got to patch you up and house you for a night.”

I giggled as I went to collect my phone from my desk, slipping it in my pocket. I should probably take some pyjamas with me and the medical kit as well. I walked to my closet as Spiderman watched me, and I opened the door to pick out my most favourite pyjamas to sleep in tonight. I closed the door and turned, smiling to myself…until I looked up. Until I found Spiderman gone and Yunho standing in his place. Red mask with the freaky black blinking eyes was clutched in his left hand, and his greyish-greenish-bluish hair was all messed up and dishevelled. My mouth dropped open as my pyjamas fell from my hands, and I found myself leaning back against my closet door.

“Yun—Yunho?!” I snapped; eyes wide open. This certainly must be a trick of the light or something, “There’s no fucking way you’re fucking Spiderman, Jeong Yunho!”

“But I actually am.” I watched Spiderman—no—Yunho scratch the back of his head awkwardly, averting his eyes, “This is not how I wanted to tell you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I huffed, eyebrows furrowing as I pushed myself off the closet, “It was you all along?!”

“Yeah, there’s just one Spiderman—”

“Yunho!” I hissed and walked up to him hurriedly, eyebrows furrowing, “Are you crazy?! You could’ve been so much more badly hurt! And your—your leg, you got shot yesterday, oh my God, I’m not crazy! I—I kept noticing similarities between you and Spiderman—like the constant head scratching and like—your physiques were similar—and I saw you limping this morning! I can’t believe you’re actually him, what?! And you have everyone fooled too, like—do you know Mingi is suspicious of you? I thought I was crazy for thinking you are similar to Spiderman after hanging out with Mingi, but, oh, my god, if he finds out he’ll be so mad, Yunho! And—the childhood friend—it’s Hongjoong you were talking about, isn’t it?! Oh, my God, I also told you everything about the reason why I moved here, and meanwhile I’m glad I won’t have to tell you again, I felt shitty for dumping all that on Spiderman, and it turns out it’s you—”

My eyes widened as my words got muffled, stolen away, as Yunho’s extra warm lips were pressing against mine. I froze, my whole body locking up as he leaned down even more, slotting his lips perfectly against mine. Oh, my fucking God, Yunho is kissing me?! My ultimate crush is absolutely kissing me right now?! And he also happens to be Spiderman?! What in the—I closed my eyes and pushed up on my tip toes, circling my arms around Yunho’s neck as I pulled him down closer, still careful of his wounded chest. Yunho was eager as he gently, experimentally, pressed his lips firmer against mine, his hands settling on my hips as he pulled me a little bit closer. I allowed his lips to slip between mine, gently sucking on his upper lip as I felt Yunho’s left-hand slip to the middle of my back, embracing me as he flushed me against himself. The position was a little bit uncomfortable as I had to crane my neck up and back, trying to keep my balance on my tip toes too, but it was worth it as I felt Yunho’s embrace completely engulf me, pull me into himself, wrap me up in a warm and safe cocoon. I didn’t dare breathe as our lips found a gentle and soft rhythm, Yunho, always the careful sweetheart that he is, didn’t want to hurry the kiss as he gently sucked on my lower lip, making the breath hitch in the back of my throat. I was slowly getting lightheaded, but I didn’t want to pull back just yet. Yunho, however, did slightly pull back, only to press thousands of little kisses against my lips, making me giggle quietly as his lips pulled into the widest smile I have ever seen on him.

“You’re so beautiful and cute.” I found myself whispering against his lips, eyes fluttering open. Yunho’s neck and ears were red, and I finally didn’t have to control myself as I cupped his cheeks and gently squeezed them, making him chuckle adorably, “God, I could squish your cheeks all day long. You’re so adorable.”

“You’re stealing all my lines, angel.” Well, now it was my turn to blush like crazy as I released Yunho’s cheeks and pressed my face into his neck, chuckling, “For the record, before you accuse me of it, I’m not narcissistic.”

I giggled against the hot skin of his neck, and pressed a swift kiss against the flushed flesh, he smelled like honey, “It’s quite important to be your own biggest fan, Spiderman.”

“You’ll forever tease me about it, won’t you?” Yunho asked with a chuckle as he pressed a kiss against the top of my head.

“Definitely.” I pulled back to look up at him with a grin, “But I promise to keep your secret. I’m sure Hongjoong would be more pissed than you if I said anything to anyone.”

“Oh, he definitely would be.” Yunho chuckled, and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead.

“Mingi will be really mad too once he finds out, you know.” I said with a pout, “He’s already very suspicious.”

“I know, I have noticed.” Yunho sighed as my arms slipped from his shoulders to his middle, “I plan on telling him soon, but the timing needs to be perfect.”

“Like with me?” I teased as I wriggled my eyebrows at him, and he chuckled. He draped his arms around my shoulders, and leaned down again.

“Well, I quite like the outcome of it, so I can’t complain.”

“Huh, have you been waiting long to kiss me?” It was only meant to be teasing, but the way Yunho flushed again, I knew I was right. And it made me blush too as I shook my head at him, “Well, same here, if I’m being frank. I think I’ve had a crush on you since the first day we met…”

“Well,” Yunho took a deep breath and leaned so close his warm breath hit my lips, “I know I fell in love with you the very day you moved to the city, angel. I was passing through the neighbourhood as Spiderman and saw you bringing the boxes inside while you were belting out those high notes of the song you were listening to.”

“That’s so embarrassing!” I grimaced, shaking my head at Yunho.

“No, it’s actually really adorable. You can’t fathom how often you gave me cute aggression, but I had to hold myself back.” I looked down flustered, knowing the feeling way too well.

“Well, Spiderman, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” I winked as I looked in Yunho’s warm chocolate brown eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Y/N, would you like to be Spiderman and Yunho’s girlfriend?” I chuckled, pressing a quick kiss against Yunho’s lips.

“Don’t refer to yourself in third person, it’s cringey.” I whispered, feeling just a little bit shy as I bit my bottom lip, “But yes, I would really like to be Spiderman and Yunho’s girlfriend.”

“Great, because Spiderman and Yunho also really want to be your boyfriend.” Yunho whispered back, engulfing me in a bear hug, making me feel safe, like nobody else ever has.

Bro, I can’t believe I just bagged both Spiderman and my crush in one go.

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

some recent photos of spiderman Yuyu hehet ^^

657 notes · View notes