#It would also be a cool build up to show a hint of his scar and leave the eye reveal for a later scene instead of bam! just show it all in

[massivementalitynut]

My Burnout Comm of Adam from @iwanttobeaseme

[appocalipse]

MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day. 

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it. 

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?" 

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

+

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.   

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.  

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake. 

You're late. 

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?      

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve. 

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"   

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.  

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words. 

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.  

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.    

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely. 

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."  

You laugh.   

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...   

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.   

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.  

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.   

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"  

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes.  You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary. 

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly. 

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind. 

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in. 

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out. 

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course  it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next. 

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing. 

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more. 

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away. 

What the hell was that?

[serena-darrin]

So, I went and finished Battle Scars tonight. It's not a long book and honestly, there are times I think it needed to be a bit longer, so it had the space to build up to what it tried to do emotionally - but I have no idea what that would to some already problematic pacing problems.

Biggest takeaways? There were some Good Ideas, and some terrible executions of those ideas. It's not 'I regret reading this.' There are some interesting nuggets of things that I actually have Fic ideas to either explore, or fix.

But, uh, yeah, it's not -good- either. Between the author's habit of telling, not showing, some very weird pacing choices, an almost forgotten and nonsensical secondary plot, and too many things that felt forced merely to create a conflict? Yeah, I wouldn't call it Good, either. I'm glad I didn't pay money for it, and will probably only read it again if I need the reference for writing my own fics. My library now has e-copies, which will make searching for whatever reference I need much much easier. (And I won't have to remember to return a physical book before the due date!)

That said, spoilers under the cut - long post warning too!

So, my biggest reaction is 'what did I just read?' A lot of the things that were there do makes sense as character beats. Merrin trying to figure out who she is after leaving Dathomir, Cere wanting to set up a legacy and step back from the actual fighting, Cal wanting more to take the fight to the Empire, Greez thinking of stepping out of the fight. . . . these are all things that I can see happening.

But the execution of it all, honestly, sucked.

Fret went from 'interesting', to 'huh?' really quickly - I'm honestly not entirely sure what her story arc really was? It's like, she lied about things, but not, but yes she did lie, and now I'm just confused? It felt like too many reveals and too many layers, with both her and Irei; I got to the point of 'oh, look! Another revelation!' /sarcastic eyeroll/ As for the Shroud: I sort of figured the plans for the shroud were in Irei's head the second we met her, and I'm glad that, in the end, the Shroud was deemed as impossible/hypothetical. It was The Very Obvious Plot MacGuffin, to the point of being so obvious it was almost painful.

Greez. While absolutely, I can see him getting in the way of a lightsaber to save Cal (he adores his Kid, regardless of the grumbling!) that entire sequence felt. . . . awkward? Again, it's about execution. I can see Cere trying to save the Fifth Brother - even if it is a mistake. She's still caught up in and trying to deal with what happened to Trilla, and Greez having to be the one to pull her back. But I -cannot- see Cere simply -forgetting- about the inquisitor on the battlefield. It's too rookie a mistake. Also, Greez is -not- going to be able to just laugh this off. It's going to suck, and there are already hints that he blames Cere for it. So, uh. . . .

(tangent, I did adore Cere's ambush of the Fifth Brother, though. "A Padawan is never far from his master", that just gave me chills - even if the author can never figure out if Cal is a Knight or a Padawan; I'll forgive it for that moment).

Oh, and I admit, I was wondering if we'd see Greez return at the end there, and was very very, happy to see him take his spot back as the Pilot of the Mantis. And, given that it's Star Wars, I expect to see him with a prosthetic of some kind come Survivor.

Cere: So, she has Force Slow! Ok, unexpected, but we can work with that. It's a rarer talent, but learnable, so yeah, that works! (I was hoping we'd see Force Barrier, but I'm ok with being disappointed on that). And shattering the Fifth Brother's Lightsaber was rather cool, too! However, her stopping Cal to try and save the Fifth Brother? Weird. I mean, again, I can see her wanting to save an inquisitor - she of all people knows that there were/are people buried somewhere under there - but not at the expense of risking Cal (and later Greez) like that. That. . . was weird. It's like the author went too far down the road of 'Cere sees Trilla in all of the inquisitors'? She might, absolutely, but it was taken too far as a character trait, and now, like a lot of things in this book, feels forced to create a specific situation and a conflict.

Also, where did she get the crystal for her new lightsaber from? I'm wondering if she purified and reclaimed Trilla's crystal? I want to know, because there's such emotional potential in that story!

Merrin: Oh boy, where do I start.

She went from idiot schoolgirl in love to something far darker when she finds out that Fret may have betrayed them, and then again when she finds out that Fret and Irei are/were a couple. Ok. . . . but we, as the reader, have absolutely no attachment to Fret, (or at least I didn't?) so the entire thing was in the blink of an eye and it was very difficult to care? It felt far, far too forced and cliched (I do, however, appreciate the author remembering that Merrin can make zombies and using this!). And it just swung back and forth like a very badly written romance, except one of the characters (Fret) is a paper cutout. /sigh/ I feel like the intent was that Merrin finds herself by allowing herself to have the conversations with Fret that she can't have with the Mantis Crew. Ok, great, really interesting concept! Except we don't see those conversations, and Fret's just a very awkward cardboard cutout for Merrin to drool over, and get jealous about. /sigh/

That said, I feel like the argument between her and Cal, and her refusing to abandon him, well, that fits. And when she's not being stupid about Fret, I do appreciate seeing a bit more of Merrin's character. One of the things I do lament about Fallen Order is that we didn't get a lot of time to really get a handle on Merrin's character, and I do like some of what Battle Scars has given us there -- when the author can step away from Merrin and Fret and actually showcase us a bit of Merrin's character, and not Merrin-in-relation-to-Fret. /sigh/

Also, I'm not sure if there is intended to be something between Merrin and Cal? It's implied there might be at Merrin's end, but the closest we get is her kissing his hands? And he clearly sees what they have together as far more a sibling relationship then anything romantic. So. . . . message unclear?

Cal: One thing I feel the author got right here is that Cal does not know what to do with other people taking risks. It's fine if he's the one risking his life/getting hurt/etc, but others? Especially to protect him? That's really something he struggles with. But honestly, Cal's characterization got weaker as the book went on, I felt? Or maybe I was just less engaged? I'm honestly not sure. That said, Cal and Cere finally do have a much needed heart-to-heart. And Cal admitting openly that he was trained as a weapon and that he has -no- idea how to go about building something up, he only knows how to tear it down? Owch. That hit right in the feels.

And it's a realization that I do think he needed to have. Judging from what we've seen in the Survivor trailers, I wouldn't be surprised if he's embracing his role as that weapon; leaving the building more to Cere - which opens up some interesting ideas.

BD-1: Honestly, not much to say here. He fades into the background a lot, and while Cal clearly cares for him, I see the same struggle I see with a lot of fanfic authors (myself included, don't get me wrong), of "what the hell do we do with BD-1?" I've seen more then one Fic author admit that they totally forgot BD for a scene (I've done it too!) and I think he suffers from that here, too, sometimes. (The phonetic spelling of his name, though,. . . . BeeDee Wun . . . ahhhhh! At least it only comes up a few times!)

Fifth Brother: Honestly, he felt like another cardboard cutout. I really can't say much, because he only existed to be a weird villain of the story, wave his lightsaber around, and not. . . . actually do too much? I've read Fanfiction that did a lot more and better with his character. /sigh/

Other notes.

What the hell was up with the Jedi Circlet? It was an almost non-existent secondary plot. . . why was that even in there? Maybe it's a tie-in for Survivor, but it's just . . . . why? It was utterly and completely unnecessary and I have -no- idea why it wasn't cut by an editor.

[lara-cairncross]

I’ve been seeing a few people mention how much they want some kind of flashback to baby/kid Hunter, and the more I mull it over, the more I think we might actually have a good chance of it happening in a later episode!! 

For one thing, Hunter is the only member of the Hexside Squad whom we haven’t seen a younger version of. Amity and Willow had their own flashback-filled episode in the first season, “Understanding Willow”; Gus got a flashback during “Labyrinth Runners” of when he first met Willow as younger kids; Luz got  those video recordings of her younger self during “Thanks to Them”; and even Vee got flashbacks to her past/younger self in “Yesterday’s Lie”. And yet, Hunter— who arguably has one of the most interesting and allegedly messed up backstories of any character in the series— has had nothing so far beyond his own recollections to Gus.  This isn’t any kind of hard evidence, but I think it would be cool of the crew to show us flashes of every character’s childhoods, at the very least so we can draw comparisons between them. Also, I just think it would be super adorable to have the full collection of baby Hexside kids!! 

Secondly, based on that one interview, season three is supposed to be heavily focused around the themes of both grief and neurodivergence. We’ve already seen a bit of this in “Thanks to Them”, but from what it sounded like in the interview, there should be more to come; and I’m hoping part of it will be focused around Hunter and being autistic. Most of the fandom (myself included, I kin him so hard) already headcanon Hunter as autistic, and it seems like the crew is writing him that way. I think some kind of flashback or memory-dive via the Mindscape would be a great way to show other autistic traits via a young Hunter, before he started masking so much. It could even show the process of Hunter starting to mask, which could be a really important theme in a kid’s show for ND children! Again, not hard evidence, but something I think could be really beneficial! 

Thirdly, I think there might genuinely be some kind of build-up being laid out in “Thanks to Them” for Hunter’s full backstory. Not only did we have small instances of Hunter revealing parts of his time in the castle, such as the bowing to Camilla and the conversation he had with Gus, but we also have more information on the Wittebros’ backstory and what happened between them. These hints, at least to me, make it seem like the crew is planning to revisit the whole picture later on— everything that happened with the Wittebane family finally laid out for us, Hunter included. Additionally, with all the obvious hinting towards Hunter growing up as an abuse victim, I can imagine some kind of storyline in a later episode where Hunter gets to finally confront Belos following their “meeting” in “Thanks to Them”, and exposes some of the truly horrifying things Belos has done as his guardian (the goop spikes are what I’m thinking of, we all know how Hunter got that scar). Naturally I’m hoping he gets retribution, but I also think a situation like this would be a good way for the crew to sneak in flashbacks to his childhood growing up in the castle and show what abuse can look like. It just feels like an important message to put in a kids show, especially one that’s dealt with other topics like losing a parent and LGBTQ+ themes. Long story short though (sorry for the rambling), the direction it seems like they’re taking following the possession storyline seems like it sets up a few possibilities for a Young Hunter cameo. 

Lastly (and let’s be honest this is probably my best “evidence” lmao), we have this image done by one of the crew members, and it’s caption!

I mean. “See you in our memories”?? Paired with the GG mask and the staff in the dirt?? This just screams to me that we’ll be getting some kind of plotline with Hunter’s mindscape, or at the very least, Hunter’s memories and past. And if that’s the case, I think we have a fucking good chance of seeing baby Hunter!!! 

Anyway this whole post is just me being excited cuz OH MY GOD I WOULD GIVE MY LEFT ARM (sorry eda) TO SEE BABY HUNTER,,, THATS MY BOY MY SON MY ANGEL MY BLORBO MY SKRUNKLY MY LITTLE WET CAT !!! I WANNA SEE KIDDO HUNTER !!! Literally if that’s the only thing I get in the next episode I’ll be happy, RIP my mental stability until January ig. thanks for reading my rambles idk how coherent this was <3

[bump1nthen1ght]

Sex on the Rocks (Merman x Reader)

Pairing: Male!Reader/Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Relationship

Warnings: 18+ content under the cut!, Size Kink, Breeding Kink

Word Count: 2578 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend discover some new things about yourselves.

Request: May I request a Merman x Male Reader? With a size kink, and breeding kink if you're open to that. Thank you! ❤️

“Can you see it?”

“Nope! This rock’s a bit too slippery-” An unflattering yelp leaves you as your hand loses its grip on the stone, your wet feet lacking any grip as you slide off the boulder and back into the cold ocean water. Your head goes under for only a second before Juno grabs you by the armpits, yanking you back up.

You sputter and cough, collapsing back onto Juno’s chest as you shake water out of your hair. Juno cranes his neck forward, barely hiding a laugh.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah, just...lost my grip for a second.” You shrug off Juno’s hands. He quirks an eyebrow up, like he doesn’t believe you, and you roll your eyes. “The water’s like, five feet deep, I’ll survive.”

“I don’t know.” Juno teases, playing with your messy hair, “I know you humans aren’t the best at swimming. But don’t worry,” Juno throws his large arm around your shoulder, “I can be your Orca in shining armor.” Juno winks, a strand of his long, black hair falling over his shoulder. He looks like he belongs on a romance novel cover.

You push yourself off of  Juno’s chest, giving him a playful slap.“Okay, Romeo, whatever you say. But we should find a place to chill out if we want to catch the sunset.”

Juno laughs, pushing his hair out of his face before he nods.

The two of you usually come to this cove on your date nights, finding a nice spot on the beach to laze around and talk before watching the sun descend together. But some teenagers had decided to throw a huge bonfire this very night and the beach was way too crowded for any alone time. Juno’s idea had been to swim farther out into the sea and chill on some rocks, but so far none had been both comfortable and able to view the horizon.

The two of you look around, trying to find a rock safe enough for you to climb, before Juno hums.

“I got an idea.”

You barely have time to get out a ‘What” before Juno’s arms are wrapping around your knees and hoisting you up into the air, your hands scrambling to find purchase in his hair  as your legs wrap around his chest. Juno shows no sign of exertion as he presses up even higher, shifting his forearm to support your thighs and pointing you towards the sea. “How about that? Can you see it now?”

The wheeze that leaves you is a terrible impersonation of a ‘yes’, your face locked onto the ocean  as you feel your chest begin to burn with embarrassment.

Your ankles dig into Juno’s shoulder muscles, barely wrapping around his large torso as  his tree-trunk arms carry you like a bag of flour.

You knew Juno was strong; He’s a goddamn Killer Whale Merman with an upper body the size of a small table, of course he’s strong.

But wow, did the way he easily throw you around turn you on way more than you thought it would.

You nod your head, taking a deep breath as you try and focus on other things, not about  rock hard your boyfriend just got you.

Unfortunately for you, the position you're in has your crotch pressed right up against Juno’s chest, in between his strong pectoral muscles.

Juno’s eyes drop to your navel, clearly noticing your growing bulge. His expression doesn’t even shift;  His arms just loosen and let your body drop down, until you and him are face to face.

“Are you hard right now?”

You nod, trying to play it cool. It wasn’t as  if this was  weird, you two were dating, but  something about getting a boner from something so simple had you a little embarrassed. Like you were 13 years old again, sneaking peeks at porno magazines and Monster Manuals under your covers late at night.

“Was it because I picked you up?”

You pause, nodding slower this time as you avert your gaze. But a claw comes under your chin, tilting it towards Juno with a slow, controlled push.

Juno had always been a huge teddy bear. You wouldn’t think it, what with the rows of sharp teeth, his long claws, and the myriad of scars that decorate his back and shoulders. But he was as sweet and docile as an Orca Merman could be.

But the look in his eyes at this moment sends a shiver down your spine; They’re so intense and focussed, if you didn’t know better you would think you were about to become his next meal. He rolls his gaze up and down your body, noting how your breath catches when he moves his hand down your neck. He runs his hand downward, thumb brushing against your collarbone and his claws tickling your pulse point. He licks his lips and the smirk he gives you might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, you like that? Then how about,” In a quick movement, he presses his body up against yours, forcing you against a nearby rock, “This?”

Water drips from his chest and onto your face as he pins one of his hands right next to your face, looking down at you with a sultry look. You suck in a harried breath as an overwhelming heat resonates in your belly. The end of his tail curls around your ankles under the water and his other hand wraps around your neck. His grip is light, but it serves as a reminder of how easily he can pin you down, how vulnerable you are in his large, very large hands.

‘Thats, uh,” You suck up the excess saliva building in your mouth, “That’s...r-really good.”

“Hmm?” Juno chuckles, playfully squeezing your neck before his hand drops down to your chest. He pushes his palm into your skin and flexes out his fingers, covering a good portion of your upper half. “You like being pinned, my little mate?”

Words have fully departed from your mind, so you just nod your head, breathless.

Juno leans down and places a gentle kiss on your jaw. It’s light and delicate, like the Juno you know, but the heat it spreads across your body is anything but.

“Naughty boy.” He whispers in your ear, before licking a stripe up your neck. You lean and curve your neck into his mouth, desperate for his affectionate kisses and nips. His teeth just barely meet your skin, enough to leave little bruises and send shocks across skin. “I can’t wait to fill you up.” Juno wraps his atoms under your thighs, yanking them around his hips and forcing you upward. Your crotch presses against his navel as he shifts you both toward a flatbed of stone. “You’ll look so good, dripping with my seed.” Juno hoists your body up onto the rock, his large hand pressing against your stomach and pushing you onto your back. You do so easily, the cold surface feeling especially icy against your flushed skin. Juno pulls himself over you, his triceps bulging as he lays his massive form on top of you. As he rests on his forearms, careful not to crush you under his weight, water drips from his soaked hair and onto your face. “My pretty boy. My beautiful, fuckable, mate.” Juno purrs, claws stroking the side of your face.

You weave your hands around his neck, pulling him down for a searing kiss. His tongue easily overwhelms yours as his large chest presses down into you. Your hands travel to his back and clench around his shoulder muscles, craving the feeling of his skin on yours. He’s so much taller than you that you barely reach his lower abdomen, but you fumble your hand downwards to his slit, eyes still clenched shut as you make out.

The hardness of his exposed shaft finds your fingers, dripping with his pre-cum and hot against your palm. You squeeze, clumsily and fervently, and Juno chuckles.

“So eager.” He pulls away, a long strand of saliva connecting you two. “Don’t worry, it’ll be deep,” Juno thrusts into your hand with a grunt, “deep inside you soon.”

With a soft pat on your cheek, Juno scoots himself down your body until his face is level with your crotch. He grabs the tent in your swim shorts, giving it a playful squeeze before grabbing the bottom of your thighs and lifting you up. You shimmy your hips to get the article of clothing off, but before it can even go past your ankles, Juno presses your lower half upwards and folds you in two.

You crane your neck forward, trying to see Juno’s next move, before the feeling of his hot tongue on your ass sends your head back against the rock. You let out a groan as Juno’s tongue begins to prod the ring of muscle, his large fingers leaving indents on your legs as he voraciously digs in.

Jun has always been quite dexterous with his long tongue; On your first date he showed off how easily he could tie a cherry stem into a knot, which had done things to your body not exactly appropriate for a first meeting. It’s also slightly ribbed at the sides, teasing your insides at just the right spots and adding an extra hint of friction as he reaches far inside you. You pant and claw at the rock below you, before finding purchase in Juno’s hair. Your climax grows steadier and steadier. It strains your shoulders and neck, but you try and peer up and look at how perfectly he eats your ass out.

Knife sharp, baby blue eyes meet yours, and it’s like a gallon of ice-water has just washed over you, goosebumps rising all over your skin as Juno sends you a wink.

You’ve never seen this playful, dominating side of him before. You can’t help but thank your improper boner for awakening it inside him. Especially when he hits that part- that part-ooooh.

Juno detaches with a pop, his tongue sliding out of your ass as he licks his lips. With one hand still firmly gripped around your thigh, he pushes himself up so you’re face to face. His long fingers splay out next to your neck, his palm easily matching the size of your head, as you give him a dazed and pleasured look.

“You ready?”

You nod, drool pooling in your mouth as your eyes wander up and down his body, your lower half seizing as he playfully squeezes your thigh. He removes it to grab his shaft, spitting into his palm as he strokes and places his tip at your entrance.

“Tell me if the stretch is too much, okay?” Juno whispers, that familiar sweetness back in his voice. You nod, but all you’re focused on is that little bit of pressure, teasing what's to come.

Juno slowly inserts himself and  he both of you throw your heads back with a groan. He worries his  bottom lip as he sinks farther and farther into you, pressing your thighs up to your chest. The harsh scrape of stone rings in your ears as his claws dig into the rock, small pebbles flying outward as he leaves long, white marks below him.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Juno finally reaches his base, comfortably seating himself inside you with a small roll of his hips. His chuckle is stuttered, peppered with a moan as he gives another tiny thrust.

“Hm, good job, taking me all the way in. For a second I thought I might be too-” Juno humps with a little more vigor, forcing the air out of your lungs, “Big for you.”

You shake your head. “N-No. You’re just-Ah!-right.”

Juno laughs again, giving you a small peck on the cheek.

“Good.”

With that, Juno slowly amps his pace, adding more thrusts with a lot more power. His jutting  hip bones dig into your  ass cheeks as he punctuates each thrust; Grinding deliciously against your prostate before pulling out until only the tip is left. He moves the hand by your head up to your other thigh, clutching tight as he lays his weight against your lower body. Your knees have been pressed into your collarbone, the stretch a little uncomfortable for your lower back, but the shockwaves of ecstasy do everything to relieve it.

“Don’t think-” Ungh “I’ve ever been this deep in you before.” Ah “Can’t wait to f-fill you, it will be so delicious.”

Your tongue has started to fall out of your mouth as your brain grows fuzzy, your only responses being slurred “Yes” and “Uh-huh.”

“You’re going to look so good, dripping with my cum. I’ll pump you so full, my beautiful little mate.” Juno’s claws dig into your skin, leaving small, white half-moons in the meat of your thigh. “Perfect little breeder. You’ll take it all, huh? Don’t want to waste-” Juno gives a harsh thrust, “a-” and then another, “-drop.”

You nod, movement uncoordinated as  your climax begins to reach its peak. The burning in your gut feels red-hot, and you wrap your ankles around Juno’s lower bag, urging him to go deeper, hit even harder. Juno lets out a delicious moan.

“You want it? Say it, beg for my cum.”

Juno slows down his thrusts, getting tantalizing close to your deepest spot before pulling out. You whimper.

“Please, please! Give me your cum, give me it, all of it!”

Juno leans down and gives you a long, passionate kiss, before resuming his pace. Your lower half begins to  jerk as you get closer, closer, closer-”

“Ungh, cumming!” Juno roars as the two of you climax together, his dick pouring thick load after load into your ass. You can feel it seep into your skin, dripping out of your ass as Juno rides out his own orgasm with tiny humps. The shiny substance coats his navel and crotch, catching the setting sun as he finally pulls out.

Your legs scream with relief as they uncurl, relaxing your legs onto the cool stone below. Juno unfurls his claws and collapses next to you, chest heaving and his skin flushed pink. The sound of your breath and the crashing waves is all that lingers, both of you too tired to even form a thought.

A shaky claw pets the side of your face, pushing some unruly hair out of the way. You turn your neck to  the side, enjoying Juno’s content and debauched face.

“We should,” He sighs, “Do that position more often.”

All you can do is nod, leaning just close enough to give your boyfriend a bunny kiss.

“Yeah, definitely.”

As the two of you catch your breath,you notice the blend of purples and pink hues off the sky above. You crane your neck upward a tiny bit and catch the slightest bit  of yellow, hinting a trail to the sunset, still out of your view.

You cuddle up to Juno’s chest, resting your head on his pecks, and point upwards.

“Do you see the colors?”

“Yeah,” Juno whispers, a claw playing with your hair, “It’s beautiful.”

The sun falls far away, the night sky darkening into a pitch black, with few spots free of light pollution. The wind brings a chill and you know the swim back is going to be a bitch on your muscles.

But in the arms of your boyfriend, everything feels perfect.

[jungkxook]

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

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

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

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

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

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

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

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

This night isn’t any different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thanks.”

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

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

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

“She said she’s not interested.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

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

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

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

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

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

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

“You have? Who told you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N!”

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

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

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

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

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

That night you can hardly sleep.

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

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

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

“You again?” You ask humorously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The days pass in a very typical blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

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

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy is already a few feet away from you, rushing toward the front door of the room, but you stop him before he can slip out of your reach entirely.

“Wait, Jungkook!” You call out. He spins around to look at you almost immediately, a look of panic on his face. “Don’t forget we have to meet up at the library on Sunday to work on the project.”

“Got it,” he says, raising his two forefingers to his forehead in a mock salute. He turns back around and begins bounding towards the door, giving you two one last wave. “See you later!”

The door slams shut behind him and the party, despite the group crowded around the t.v., carries on in a cacophonous sound of drunken yelling and dumb music, completely and utterly oblivious. You let out a sigh as you turn back to the t.v., noting Taehyung’s presence still beside you. He takes a satisfying sip of whatever beverage is occupying the red cup in his hand and nods.

“That’s Jungkook for you,” he says. His voice is a tired sigh, dispirited almost, as he thinks of the boy that has been his friend since freshman year of highschool. Just before he turns away, you hear him muttering, “Always putting others before him.”

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

Whether or not he had entirely blown you off or had simply forgotten, you wait and wait in complete silence in the school library for nearly three hours as every call and every text you send to his phone goes otherwise unnoticed or ignored. It is entirely unlike Jungkook to completely vanish and though you want to be mad, you are more disappointed than anything else. You spend your time at a table by yourself, books and papers sprawled out before you, as you try to work diligently on the last piece of writing you need for the assignment to be complete whilst trying to not let your eyes wander to the time on the clock hanging on the wall opposite you but to no avail.

In a corner above the front desk, you see a t.v. propped on the wall that plays the silent image of the news as they recall the events from that Friday at the burning building. Fortunately, that spider guy had arrived before any casualties could happen and you watch, for the third time since Friday, as the recording footage shows the red and blue hero swinging defiantly into the wall of fire and pulling various residents from the fire. A duo of girls sitting next to you croons dreamily over the masked man, especially as they witness him emerging from the fire with a small and unscathed Corgi dog in his hands that, you admit, is rather admirable.

On Wednesday night, you find yourself stuck in the sparkling confinements of the café bound to the six hour shift you were in the midst of completing. It’s surprisingly busy for a day in the middle of the week, though you assume that’s only because each customer is in a rush to seek refuge from the surprisingly cold evening. You hadn’t even been thinking about Jungkook when he makes himself known in the café some time after 9 p.m. You hear the bell ring above the door, feel a short gust of shocking wind, before it shuts behind him. When you look up instinctively to greet the newcomer and lay your eyes on the boy, your words fall short.

You watch as he stumbles forward, his feet practically dragging behind him in worn up Converse shoes. He looks exhausted ━ even more so than usual ━ and judging by his dishevelled hair and crumpled clothes and the way he seems to walk in a daze as if he is in another world, you assume he hasn’t slept in a while. He still hauls his backpack with one strap slung over his shoulder that he drops lazily to the ground beside a table before he plops himself down into the seat with a groan in one swift motion. What’s most strange are the blossoming bruises on his neck and the fresh cut on the highest point of his left cheekbone.

You hate that you’re so weak for that boy; that even though he completely ignored you, you still pity him. Wondering what sorts of trouble he’s been finding himself in lately, you pour him a cup of steaming black coffee and walk towards his table. He hardly even notices you as his head is buried in his folded arms atop the table, though he peeks up past his bangs when you slide the coffee beside him.

“I’d hate to see the other guy,” You hum.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pushes himself up, raking a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. “Y/N━”

“Where were you, Jungkook?” You ask sternly, suddenly. “On Sunday? I waited for you for over three hours. I called you and texted you and you completely ignored me. You could have at least gotten back to me. I had to finish the rest of the assignment by myself.”

His brow creases with concern, his stare softening apologetically. He leans forward, suddenly helpless.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I━I didn’t mean to━ Something came up.”

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You sigh. “It’s fine. I can’t stay and chat but I’ll have you know I already handed the assignment in online. You’re welcome. Oh, and the coffee’s on the house. You look like crap.”

You spin on your heel and march away to help another customer before Jungkook can even try to talk to you. He watches as you slip from his grasp, a frown scrunching up your face that is forced to soften as you approach another table. He collapses against his chair and groans inwardly, rubbing his hand over his aching and swollen face. He knows you’re mad at him but he can’t quite tell if you’ll stay like that for long. He doesn’t blame you anyway, but he couldn’t just tell you where he had gone or what had happened. Could he?

It’s much to his dismay that you don’t talk to him the next day, or on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Thursday. He tries to find you around campus but he is always too late and, instead, finds you slipping away from him each time. He pops into the café a few nights and though you work both nights, it’s still much too busy to actually talk to you and so he, doing what he does best, falls asleep at the table as he silently broods. Whether or not it’s your anger purposely driving you further from him or simply life intervening, Jungkook wants nothing more than to apologize ━ if he can even get close enough to you to do so.

Finding yourself on the rooftop of your apartment building isn’t uncommon. Most of your free time is spent up there, either watching the night sky or gazing at the busy city under a cerulean blue sky and golden sun. That Friday night is no different. With no homework and no social gathering to devote yourself to, you sneak off to the roof and position yourself in just a spot where you can see the towering buildings of each borough in each direction you cast your gaze. You would have been content falling asleep up there, with nothing but the sound of the distant hum of cars to lull you and the view of the moon and window lights that act as the metropolis’s stars.

You all but lose track of time, unaware of whether or not you have been there for minutes or hours but you don’t entirely mind. You would be lying, too, if you denied that there was some sort of inkling of hope in you that hoped maybe you would see him again. That is why when you hear the soft plop of feet dropping to the ground moments later, you are not at all startled by the sudden presence, though you are astounded by his arrival, as if on cue. You don’t even need him to speak to know who it is and when you feel the smile ghost along your lips, there is a moment of pause where you question your own sanity for being so happy to see this masked and mysterious man. But he isn’t at all a mystery at this point when you feel as if you’ve acquainted yourself with him well enough.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” The voice that drifts through the shadows of the roof is familiar, gentle. “It’s dark. Who knows who could come up here?”

“Yeah,” You snort. “Wouldn’t want any strangers sneaking up on me ━ or masked vigilantes who seem to be following me.”

You turn to look at him but are greeted with nothing except emptiness. He lingers somewhere in the darkness and you squint your eyes, desperately trying to spot him. He laughs, the sound so silvery and smooth like honey.

“Someone’s following you?” he replies tauntingly. “Do I have to deal with them again?”

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

The sudden question seems to cause him to hesitate. It’s silent before you hear his voice wander over to you.

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

“Now that’s suspicious. Maybe I should call the police on you.”

“They would never be able to catch me.”

“Someone’s cocky,” You take a step toward the darkness, in the direction of the sound of his voice. “Did the fame get to you already?”

You hear him take a step back from you and it, subsequently, causes you to linger. You wait before stubbornly pushing yourself forward once more.

“What fame? People want to lock me up.”

“And most people are in love with you. I overheard a few girls gushing over you saving that dog from that burning building the other day,” You giggle. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“Ah, well,” You can hear the grin in his voice, can see the silhouette of his figure not too far from you, “I gotta admit the attention is pretty nice. But no one knows who I am without this mask so it doesn’t really matter.”

“How does that make you feel?”

One step forward, another backward. You pause; at this rate, you’ll have chased him all the way to the other side of the roof.

“I don’t mind. It keeps me humble,” he replies. “But it also stops me a lot of the time, y’know? With this mask on, I feel invincible; with it off, I feel useless. But someone pretty important to me once told me that life is too short to constantly hide behind a mask.”

A wide, genuine smile stretches across your face. You take another step forward and this time he stands still. From where you are, you can see the tall and lean figure, adorned in the signature tight red and blue suit.

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

“She is pretty admirable. Much braver than I could ever be without this mask.”

He turns around from you before you can reach him. You watch as he casually strides forward a few paces to the barrier behind him, which he props his hands against to lean on. He seems to be lost in thought, perhaps struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. You tiptoe in suit, cautious as you approach him. You can see the muscles that strain from beneath his suit, the heave and fall of his chest.

“Can I know your name?” Your voice is a gentle whisper that carries to him with the wind. “Your real name?”

When he turns around to face you once more, you’re standing only a few feet away from him. You take another step forward, closing the short distance between the two of you and are made aware of how much taller he really is. The way he towers over you is almost comforting, familiar, that no emotionless red mask could cause you to stray. He’s so much more different up close in that suit. He hesitates before he forces himself to speak.

“I think,” he pauses. He swallows thickly, attempting to subdue the quickening race of his heart as he clamps his fingers into his sweaty palms. “I think you already know my name.”

This seems to pique your interest. Quirking a brow and cocking your head to the side, you stare up at the masked face that gazes back down at you. You aren’t entirely sure what compels you to do so, as it could be a complete disaster and not at all what you are expecting, but you slowly, so very slowly, reach up with your hands to grasp gingerly at his face. The red fabric beneath your fingertips is soft and as your digits brush lightly over his covered cheekbones, he hardly moves. For some reason, you can feel your heart hammering against your feeble chest, can hear it in your ears in tandem with the sound of passing traffic down below. His heart is beating just as fast, though he thinks it nearly stops when he feels your fingers begin to gently pull at the neck of his mask, sliding it upward.

The first poke of tanned skin has your heart quickening, your breath hitching in your throat. You tug the mask the rest of the way off and, finally, step back to look at the mysterious masked hero known as Spider-Man.

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

The familiar boy stands before you, his hair a disheveled mess from the mask, his doe eyes even wider now in timid fear as he looks down at you. Everything is him, from his luscious pink lips, to the freckle on his neck, the piercings in his ears, that tiny scar he’s had since he was a child on his cheek. The city lights and moon illuminate him from behind and he seems nervous as he anticipates a reaction but you are much too busy admiring him. Your fingers trace delicately over the fresh scar on his face that he had brandished at the café only a few nights ago. A breath of satisfaction slips past your parted lips and then you’re laughing silently to yourself.

The boy looks dumbfounded at first, and then he quirks a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“I knew it,” You shake your head at nothing in particular, or perhaps the way you continue to giggle.

Jungkook suddenly looks shocked, though he instantly seems to relax. He studies the smile that stretches across your cheeks in awe, brightening your face in all its glory. “How did you know?”

“Well, you’re not exactly that smooth, Jungkook,” You grin. “The late nights coming into the café, always scratched up and always tired as if you’ve ran all over the city; always getting jumpy when you hear police sirens ━ like the night at the party. Not to mention that one time at the café when the news was on and they were talking about a robbery at the bank and hostages being held and you ran right out of there only for Spider-Man to show up on the scene minutes later. It’s all very suspicious, don’t you think?”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him, a joyous sound of content. He leans against the palm of your hand that is cradling the side of his face with the scar.

“Right,” he sighs. “All very suspicious.”

His stare locks with yours in a steady gaze and neither of you can turn away. His eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky, lingering with it a sense of hope and content. He is mesmerizing, with the city he devotes his time to saving in the horizon beyond him. It’s near impossible to look away, but why would you want to? It happens much like a blink of an eye, a frail beat of your heart; it comes with the passing of a car whizzing by on the streets down below and is as much startling as the sudden breeze that sends chills down your spine.

He begins to lean forward ━ or maybe that was you? Your eyes flutter shut, your anticipation held with a deep breath, until finally your lips meet with his though you hardly have time to relish in it. Almost as soon as your lips touch, he’s pulling away quickly. He doesn’t move too far and his mouth lingers just over yours. His eyes remain fixated on the curl of your lips for a moment too long before he rips them away to meet your hazy gaze.

“Wait,” he hums. “You━ You said you were crushing on Spider-Man. Does that mean you knew this whole time and━ and like me?”

The question is so like Jungkook; so innocent and silly and genuine that it causes a sweet giggle to bubble at your lips. He’s always been so oblivious to these kinds of things and so maybe that’s what pushes you to kiss him next. Your lips lock for a second time and, though it is just as fleeting, you note with joy the softness of his mouth as it folds over yours. You part from him with a breathless gasp, your nose brushing lightly against his as a smile stretches across your face.

“What do you think, bugboy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a playful taunt that makes Jungkook smile wide.

He kisses you this time, slow and passionate as if attempting to pour every single one of his emotions and thoughts for you into the single intimate action. His hands grasp at either side of your face, carefully pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss and you, instinctively, melt against his broad chest. Your fingers trail up the lean muscle of his arms to twine in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging with yearning. His hands fall to your waist, enveloping you in his body, and when he parts from you, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I show you something?”

You nod. His eyes light up and then he’s jumping up onto the cement barrier behind him, turning around to look at you. You gasp from the sudden movement, your stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him quite literally standing on the edge of a building only to remind yourself he’s Spider-Man. He’s done plenty more reckless things than this. He holds his hand out, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

There’s no hesitation as you answer him with another firm nod. “Of course. Always.”

“Then take my hand,” he says. “I’ll never do anything to harm you, you know that.”

You do know that. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt a fly; he’s too good and precious for the world you live in and he says yes far too often to people who most likely don’t deserve it, but he knows when to stand up for not only himself but others as well. You are just one of the few he cares for wholeheartedly and you know that.

You reach out carefully and place your hand in his surprisingly cold and large ones. His fingers wrap around yours as he helps you up onto the barrier, holding you closely toward him.

You take a deep breath, shut your eyes, and put every ounce of your trust into this single, courageous boy ━ and you let yourself fall with him.

You’re roused awake by the sound of light tapping against your bedroom window.

It startles you at first, causing you to jolt upright into a sitting position as you look around frantically at your empty and dark room; the only light comes from the city life and the moon outside, shedding a warm glow onto the floor before it. For a moment, you think you had just dreamt the noise but then you hear it again, low and near. You crane your neck to look and first see a shadow but, as the figure shifts into view, you’re able to see the familiar young man in red and blue. Your heart leaps in your chest and suddenly you’re scrambling off your feet, throwing yourself at the window to throw it open.

The night Jungkook had admitted to being Spider-Man and jumped up onto the edge of the roof, holding his hand out to you in a silent question of trust, he leaves you with a night that you swear you will cherish forever. Wary of where he will go but entirely consenting of his spontaneity, he surprises you by carrying you throughout the city, swinging from building to building in an extraordinary feat that feels as if you’re flying; and, as if that hadn’t been a big enough thrilling shock, he brings you to the very top of the Empire State Building, just under the antenna. No one is there and no one can see you and, with Jungkook under the brightening sky with the view of New York stretching out into the horizon before you, you feel as if you have the whole world in the very palm of your hand.

You sit with Jungkook that night, talking, not talking, listening intently to him as he recounts the tale of how he had turned into the masked hero with his peculiar powers, and watching the sunrise from beyond the very tops of buildings and skyscrapers. There are no words to describe the breathtaking view from one of the highest points in the city, watching as the golden sun peaks over the horizon and sets the city ablaze in saturated warm hues of orange, pink, and purple, mingling together in one impressionistic masterpiece that could put even the greatest of painters to shame. The light reflects against the glass panes of windows in a mirage similar to flickering flames that never scathe the city, but instead seem to enhance the beauty it holds.

You never want the night to end but eventually it does and, when he returns you to your bedroom window with one parting kiss, it and Jungkook’s lips are all you can dream about.

A week has passed since then, in which time you’ve done nothing but find yourself growing closer with Jungkook. He’s all you’ve been able to think about these days. So, to hear him and see him at your window is enough to make butterflies form in the very pit of your stomach. You see him sitting on the fire escape just outside your window, leaning against the building looking even more exhausted than usual. Another fresh cut lines his cheek in a stripe of red though he doesn’t seem to mind much for it as he dozes off slightly. You push open the window, startling him awake, and poke your head outside. A weary smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you.

“Well, this is romantic,” You stifle the giggle that bubbles at your mouth. “Thank you for not throwing rocks at my window, Romeo. To what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you at two in the morning?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.”

His response earns a shy smile stretching across your face. “No, you didn’t wake me,” You say with a shake of your head (though the way you comb your fingers through your mused hair tells him otherwise). “What happened to your face, Jungkook?”

He reaches up to his face, as if momentarily forgetting the cut, winces, and then drops his hand from his face. He grins wolfishly, attempting to shrug it off. “Oh, this little thing? It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I just got caught up in a little fight but I’m fine. I swear. You really should see the other guy.”

The smug tone in his voice as he rambles on makes you stare at him in amusement. You sigh as you take a step back, saying, “Come inside. I’ll clean that for you.”

“Well, if you insist.”

He smirks as he pulls himself through the window and into your room. His eyes wander around the four walls, noting the decor that lines it, the shelves with all your personal trinkets and belongings, the clothes littered on the floor, and the empty take-out box of Chinese food that rests atop your desk. There’s a soft aroma of something sweet that smells like you ━ possibly a perfume or a soap or shampoo? ━ and it makes Jungkook’s head spin pleasantly. He asks about your day and then sits on the bed and, as you tell him about your boring classes as you rummage around your bathroom for something to clean his wound with, he smiles.

He finds your room comforting ━ or maybe he just finds your presence comforting. Either way, over time you find that this would only be a common occurrence throughout the next month. He startles you the first few times he shows up but then you begin to stay awake a little longer, waiting eagerly by the window as you wait for him to arrive. Most times he’s bruised or has small and fresh cuts, of which you either hand him an ice packet or clean the cut; sometimes he isn’t even hurt and instead claims simply that he just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. But each time he listens to you and your day, asking about yourself rather than him and no matter how hard you try to pry information out of him about what had possibly happened to him throughout his night, he swiftly brushes it off. You don’t mind either way ━ you just want to see him as much as you can, anyway.

There is one night, however, where things seem to go entirely different.

You’re curled up in bed reading a book when you hear the light tapping on your window. You’ve come to leave the window pried open slightly as you wait for him, but even so he still takes the time to knock to signal his arrival. You instantly climb to your feet, wandering over to the window and tossing it open with a flourish. As Jungkook climbs in through the small space, you note the tight suit he’s wearing is slashed at the top of his arm and both the skin underneath it and on his face is bruised and cut; other than that, and judging by the cheeky smile on his face, he seems to be ok.

You shake your head at him, smiling gingerly as you muse, “Who’s the damsel in distress now, bugboy?”

Jungkook smirks, prodding your sides with his fingers and causing you to squirm as you walk past him. “There’s no shame in needing a little help every once and awhile, right? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Sit down,” You tell him, winking up at him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Minutes later you return to sit by his side on the bed, cleaning his cuts as per usual and, while he has a frozen packet of peas pressed to his bruised and sore shoulder, you are busying yourself by sewing the cut in his suit with blue thread you had found in your room. In the midst of your work, perhaps you press too generously down on his recent wound, as he winces slightly and shifts on top of your bed. You crane your neck to look up at him, studying him curiously. He seems to notice your stare and quirks a brow as he looks down at you.

“What’s up?”

Your fingers stop their work on his suit and, remembering where the cut had broken his skin just slightly underneath the tear, brush lightly over the tender flesh covered in gauze. “Does it hurt?”

Jungkook shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Hurt? No, no, of course not. It just, uh━ It isn’t the most pleasant. But this isn’t the worst I’ve been after a night in the suit so I can handle it.”

Your eyes study his battered face in some sort of admiration, albeit mixed with timid nervousness. What sort of things had he encountered, had he been through, that he won’t tell you?

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

“No way,” he shakes his head, but not before you spot the confident grin he flashes you. “It’s honestly nothing I can’t handle by now. It’s not so bad, either. It’s kinda weird. I mean, ever since getting bitten, I’ve found the healing process is a whole lot faster.”

Maybe he notices the lingering uneasiness in your eyes, the way you seem to doubt him. He reaches out with his fingers to gingerly brush against the side of your face in a swift flourish as he tilts your head a little higher. He smiles something warm that makes your heart melt as you lean your face against the palm of his calloused hand. To avoid the prying stare he gives you, you smile lightly and shake your head, attempting to change the subject.

“Dunno, bugboy. Are there any perks to this job?”

Jungkook snorts as you finish sewing his suit. As you discard the needle and leftover thread, he says, “There are. Like, for instance, knowing the city is a little safer. Then there’s the fact that Spider-Man seems to have a lot of admirers…”

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter anyway because no one knows who you are.”

“Well, there is you,” he says. “And I gotta say you’re a pretty good perk.”

A blush tinges your cheeks as you sit across from him. Your eyes flicker down the suit that adorns him and you try to bite back the lighthearted snicker that bubbles at your chest. “I was gonna say a perk is this tight suit. At least, for me it is. Your ass has never looked more fantastic.”

Jungkook suddenly bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. When he looks back at you, his hand finds the side of your face once more and pulls you towards him. With your lips hovering just over his, he mumbles something, anything, just for the sake of responding despite already being lost in you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

You’ve come to find that Jungkook’s lips are entirely irresistible and the more you kiss him, the more you wonder why you hadn’t confessed to him earlier. He’s gentle as he lets his lips fold over yours, mouth dancing with mouth in a passionate yearning. But there’s a certain type of underlying insatiable hunger that seems to wash over both you and him and fast. Your fingers rake up the side of his face and tangle in his messy locks and soon he’s pulling you onto the bed, onto him. You instinctively straddle his lap, craning your neck so as to deepen the kiss, never once breaking apart for air. But something seems to happen, something that startles Jungkook so deeply. Perhaps it’s the way you grasp his hair a little tighter, the way he heard you gasp when he bites down gently on the side of your jaw, the way your hips fit over his; or perhaps it’s the way you tug off your shirt in an attempt to get closer to him, displaying to him the plain white bra you’re wearing that all culminate into something more. He knows where this is going, you know where this is going ━ and though Jungkook would want nothing more than to carry on, he’s reminded of a terrifying and prominent thought that has always haunted him the moment he made that mask.

You feel the way he tenses beneath you and, in the next quick second, he’s pulling apart from you and you, so dazed and lost, gasping for air, stare down at him dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You ask. “Did I hurt you? Is your arm okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

You grin as you press another kiss to his throat, mumbling into his neck, “Good, then let’s━”

“No.”

“What?”

You sit back on his lap suddenly, staring at him with a flushed face. Your hair is mussed messily, a red bruise blossoms on your jawline that Jungkook had graced you with, and one strap of your bra hangs daintily over your shoulder and Jungkook can’t help but notice how utterly sexy you look. He groans inwardly, tearing his gaze to look up at you. He swallows thickly, wincing at the bright and innocent twinkle in your eyes.

“We━” he pauses and then says, “We can’t do this.”

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says slowly, carefully, “we can’t do this. I’m━ I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking but I should have stopped this sooner.”

“Stop what?” Your voice is weak, small. You know what he’s referring to but you don’t want to believe it just yet.

Fuck, I can’t do this, Jungkook curses to himself. If he had just stayed away from you from the beginning, this wouldn’t even be happening. He wouldn’t be about to hurt you or himself.

“Us,” he whispers. “There can’t be an us, Y/N.”

Your brows knit together in confusion but your eyes are wide with fear. “What are you talking about? How can there not be an us? I thought━ I thought you wanted this.”

When he hesitates to respond, you’re quick to slide off of his lap, standing to your feet. Suddenly you’re panicking, embarrassed. He sees the way your lips are pulled tightly in a thin line, the way you rake your hands through your hair, mumbling, “Oh my god,” as you search for a shirt. Jungkook springs to his feet, grasping onto your waist but you easily slither out of his reach, clutching your shirt to your chest. To you, you think you have just made a fool of yourself, nearly striping naked for a boy who apparently doesn’t want you. Jungkook knows this is what you’re thinking and it pains him so.

“No, no, I do,” he says. “I do want this! I just can’t do it.”

“And why not?” You snap hotly. “You’re not making any sense. Either you do or you don’t want us to be a thing.”

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Any explanation would be better than none,” You say firmly, “and simultaneously making me look like an idiot for looking so eager.”

Jungkook sighs heavily. He takes a step back from you, running both hands frustratedly through his hair, letting the muscles in his biceps flex as he does so. When he looks back at you, he’s solemn.

“There can’t be an us because I’m just gonna put you in danger this way,” he says. “People are out there looking for me! Not just the police, but hardcore criminals, gangs, thugs, murderers. If they find me, or if they find out that you’re close to me or know me, they’ll hurt you too. I can’t have that, Y/N.”

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

“I can’t,” Jungkook’s voice is stern, set in place. “I can’t have that on my conscience, knowing that if you get hurt, it’s because of me. That’s all I ever worry about, from the second that I put this mask on. No one knows about me being Spider-Man and I kept it that way for a reason. Don’t you think I could have flaunted that I was this supposed super cool new hero? I didn’t do that because of you; because of the people that I’m close to.”

“I don’t care,” Your voice is feeble, cracking. “I don’t care if I get hurt. If you can handle it, then so can I! I just want to be with you, Jungkook. I━ I love you━”

Jungkook hears the words you blurt out quickly but he doesn’t seem to necessarily register them at once. A stiff silence settles in the room between the two of you, an undeniable form of the point of no return, except you don’t regret the words you say. You mean them wholeheartedly because you have always admired and loved Jungkook, from the little boy next door to this young hero before you. You stare at him shyly, albeit unwavering. A panic washes over him, drains his face of any colour, and suddenly it feels as if he can’t breathe, his chest concaving in on his shrill heart. As the words begin to register in his mind, he can only sorrowfully gaze at you; but the lack of silence has your confidence paling and soon you’re looking away, shaking your head. A pained expression paints your features and though it hurts Jungkook more than any other wound that has been inflicted upon him in fights on the street prior to this, he knows he has to do this.

You already know his answer before he even speaks it. When he does say the final words that leave you in such an excruciating and unbearable pain, he has already fled, grabbing his mask and escaping out of the window, escaping from you, and into the heart of the city. When he’s gone and you’re alone in the thick silence do his words finally return to you and are the cause of the broken heart you are forced to nurse through muddled tears over the aimless days to come:

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

You don’t see Jungkook the next day or the day after that.

In fact, you don’t see him for three entire weeks. He stops showing up at the café late at night, stops attending the classes he has with you (or maybe he just blends well into the other somber looking faces), stops visiting your window in the early morning hours. Autumn bleeds numbly into the beginning shock of cold that is winter and, though there is no snow yet, you still feel the wrath of the frigid season. And, with the sudden loss of Jungkook, comes the abrupt and unwarranted disappearance of Spider-Man. Maybe it is your fault, maybe it is Jungkook’s fault. Either way, the masked enigma vanishes without a trace after your argument with Jungkook and the city’s crime, now freed from the vigilant watchful eyes of New York’s hero, spikes.

It feels almost as if the city has swallowed him whole or as if he has dropped off the face of the earth and the only thing to remember him by is the sudden havoc that ensues the city. The only thing you have to even know if Jungkook is still alive are the occasional updates from Taehyung who comes to befriend you if only to mention Jungkook every once and awhile just for the sake of easing your worried mind. You’re not so much mad as you are upset, but you care entirely more for his own wellbeing and to not hear from him causes you agony.

There is only one brisk moment in which you encounter Jungkook and it comes simply from a happenstance. You are not at all expecting to see him and nor is he expecting to see you. Rather, you are seated on a wooden bench in the park just beside your school on a day graced with a strange warmth for winter. Wrapped in a scarf and knit hat, you are flipping through the pages of a book for one of your classes when a figure stands before you, momentarily blocking the sun’s light from your view. As you glance up at the shadow cast over you, you are genuinely surprised to find Jungkook standing there. He looks, perhaps, even more so dishevelled than usual, his hair and attire all one negligent mess as if he couldn’t even find the strength to care for himself. Dark circles line his sunken eyes which stare down at you sorrowfully.

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can’t turn away from him. For a moment, you fear that you will cave into him but then you are reminded of your broken heart. It’s what causes you to act in such haste, shaking your head up at him as you shut your book and shove it into your bag. You stand to your feet and brush past him and he, so caught up in your rejection of him and the own twinge of pain he feels in his heart, lingers by the bench. Then, he is walking after you, his footsteps swiftly catching him up to you.

“Y/N. Y/N, wait! Please, just let me━”

Jungkook breaks out into a sudden jog and only stops when he is standing in front of you. With your path blocked, you, too, come to a halt if only for the benefit of the doubt. He desperately tries to meet your eyes but you look past him, arms folded over your chest.

“Let me talk to you,” he begs. “Away from here. Just you and me. I can explain everything. I━”

“You had your chance, Jungkook,” You quip dryly. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I wasn’t━ I didn’t mean to━” he tries, but is interrupted once more by your strained voice.

“You left me.” Now you are staring at him and Jungkook wishes that you hadn’t even bothered to give him the chance. Once full of shimmering admiration, your eyes are only glossed over with a pained disappointment. “I told you I loved you and you left me. You made me look so stupid and I━ No. No, I’m not doing this right now.”

You push yourself forward, walking carefully around him. He watches as you storm away, shaking your head to yourself. With one last despairing attempt, he calls out to you once more.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I let you down. I know. I’m a failure.”

You stop. Your back is turned to him before you force yourself to look over at him and he foolishly thinks that maybe you’ll give him a chance to properly explain himself. Instead━

“You’re not a failure, Jungkook,” You tell him firmly. “I just━ I need to be alone right now. But don’t leave them. Don’t let them down. The city needs you.”

Jungkook flinches. He wants to call out to you again and pull you back to him, explain everything that is on his mind, but he can’t. Instead, he is forced to watch you walk away from him until you disappear amongst the crowd and even then he doesn’t move. He knows you’re disappointed with him.

He knows the whole city is disappointed with him ━ but the only person he wants to impress is you and he fears he’s ruined his only chance to.

You hardly seem to sleep at night anymore, instead too caught up in the thoughts that plague your dreams. Instead of going to the roof as you usually do when you can’t sleep, you find yourself lying helplessly in your bed, staring up at the empty night sky through your window. One night, as you’re dozing off on your bed, your eyes blinking wearily as they try to focus on the shimmering moon, you begin to hear a noise. It’s similar to a light tapping, though it drowns out in the sound of a siren from somewhere down below. At first you believe you have just dreamt it but then you hear a loud thud, slightly muffled from somewhere outside your window. It jolts you awake, has you pushing yourself up into a sitting position, and glancing around your room for any sign of something that may have fallen in there before noticing a flash of movement from the corner of your eye.

Red and blue.

Interest piques your drowsy mind at the thought of it being Jungkook but why would he be returning to you now? You would have been entirely set on begrudgingly flopping back down onto your bed and turning your back to him had you not felt that dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong. You can’t hear his voice and when you turn to get a better look, you find him standing on the fire escape just outside your window, slumped dangerously against the wall with his back to you. It is that dreaded feeling that pushes you out of your bed, drags you to your window which you lightly throw open, only to be met with a sight that leaves you in horrific shock.

Jungkook is adorned in his usual tight red and blue suit, though his mask is off and gives you a clear view of his weary face, now muted in colour, that your eyes land on first. His eyes are shut, his head rests against the brick wall of the building, and his skin is marked with dirt and grime, bruises and dried blood. As your eyes trail lower, following the curve of his arms to his hands that cradle his side, you finally spot the large wound from beneath his fingertips on the left of his abdomen, shimmering a bright crimson red. Immediately your heart sinks to your stomach as you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

Shimmying your way through the window to get closer to the boy hardly has him stirring. Your hands come out to grasp at his face, forcing him from his slouched position.

“Jungkook, can you hear me? What the hell happened?”

His eyes flicker open momentarily at the touch of your warm fingers and he musters a small smirk, the corners of his lips lifting up just slightly.

“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbles hoarsely. “You should definitely see the other guy now.”

“You’re an idiot,” You grumble, your eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Why are you here? You should have gone to the hospital! I’m taking you right now━”

“No, no,” he protests stubbornly. He shifts his weight and immediately flinches from the pain. “No, you can’t. I’ll be okay. I just━ I need some time to rest.”

A deep sigh exhales past your parted lips at the mention of what had happened the night he fled so suddenly. Instead, you brush off the memory and give him a small shake of your head. “Here, stop talking. Let me help you get inside and I’ll see what I can do for you. This is gonna hurt a bit but can you move?”

Jungkook nods. As you wrap your arm carefully around his waist to shift him over to the window, he sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself forward. You try to help as he stiffly climbs in through the small window, grunting in pain as he does so, and then stumbling into your room and bumping into your desk next to the window, knocking a few trinkets down. As he leans dangerously against your now skewed desk, you hurry through the window and help him to his feet, pulling him over to your bed.

Despite the way he had left you so suddenly days ago, there is no air of stiffness in the room. The only thing that surrounds the two of you is a melancholic silence as you rummage around your room for the medkit you knew you had stowed away eons ago. For the most part, Jungkook patches himself up, downing a couple of painkillers, cleaning his wound in his abdomen and stitching it closed with a steady hand that has evidently done this before. You sit across from him in your desk chair, watching him intently as he sits on your bed, having shrugged off the top part of his suit and leaving his torso exposed. Other than the blood and dirt that cakes his golden skin, you take note of the toned muscles that make his abs and the way they flex in tandem with every time he winces as he tugs at his wound.

When he’s done, the silence is still unmoving. Jungkook wants to speak but his throat is dry and any time he dares open his mouth to say something, anything, he immediately recoils. It’s only when you’re helping him into your bathroom so he can take a shower does he finally gather the courage he needed all this time without his mask on. Before you can turn to walk away on him, he catches your attention by calling your name. When he speaks next, his voice is faint, terrified.

“I’m sorry.”

He gulps when you turn to look up at him and suddenly he’s made aware of the fact that the two of you are cramped so closely together in your small bathroom. It makes the shame he feels more prominent as he looks you in the eyes.

“You were the first person I could think of when this happened,” he says. “I━ I know I have no right to be here after what I did to you but I just needed someone. I needed you.”

Your heart flutters at his words though you hide this feeble act by turning away from him. “It’s whatever, Jungkook,” He hears you mumble faintly, your back to him. “Anything I can do to help.”

He wants to say something more but he hesitates again. He watches as you take a deep breath, the heave of your shoulders under a heavy weight, before you ultimately walk out of the door and shut it behind you, leaving it slightly ajar. You linger in your bedroom, standing in front of your window as you gaze out, absentmindedly gnawing on your lower lip as you fold your arms tighter around your torso. You hear the shower switch on, let the calming sound of falling water wash over you, and shut your eyes momentarily. You can still see the light from the bathroom pouring out into the darkness of your room from the angled door, and can see the steam start to cloud the mirror.

There’s something so indistinctly intimate about having him in your shower in the next room over after days of avoiding one another. You have every right to be enraged and upset with him and yet you aren’t. You can’t bring yourself to ever hate the boy in the room over. You understand why he left so abruptly and it makes sense but now, in that moment in time, with nothing but a wall dividing you two, there is a certain type of craving you can’t subdue. A craving and a yearning to be closer to him; to tell him how you feel before, if even, he decides to flee in the morning after.

You blame it on your stubbornness that pushes you forward. Really, it seems to happen in such a haze, a rush of adrenaline. One moment, you’re standing by the window; in the next moment, you’re by the bathroom door, your fingers clutching the handle. As you push it open, you can only see a misty silhouette of Jungkook’s figure from beyond the steamed glass doors of the shower. Your heart is hammering against your chest as you walk to the shower, slowly kicking off your shorts as you go.

Jungkook must hear you as you make your way into the bathroom because as soon as you carefully slide open the glass door, he’s already staring at you with a lack of surprise, noting the baggy t-shirt you wear and the way his heart flips when he imagines you in a similar shirt of his. You only meet his curious eyes, noting the water that trickles down his toned and glistening body and flattens his usual unkempt hair into his lashes. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and suddenly he looks remorseful. It’s almost as if he can read your mind and anticipates every second you take to just step inside, his eyes beckoning you to come. It’s not like he cares; in fact, he wants you next to him. God, he just wants you so bad.

Steady hands find the hem of your baggy white t-shirt that you lift up and over your head, exposing the smooth expanse of your bare stomach and the perk of your bare breasts. You shimmy out of your baby pink underwear and, suddenly, you’re standing completely vulnerable before him and yet this is all he wants and all you want. You step inside the shower, closing the distance between you and him even more until you’re right in front of him, letting the warm water pour down onto you. It’s become stifling hot in that little space and there’s only a split moment where you fear you’ve made a mistake before you feel Jungkook’s hand come up to gently hold the side of your face. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes gazing into yours, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s a soft kiss, one where he takes his time to thoroughly enjoy it, first kissing your upper lip, then your lower lip in some sort of sensual manner that leaves chills running down your spine. He leaves a trail of warm and wet kisses from your jawline to your neck, nuzzling his nose against your throat as your breath catches. His hands fall to grasp at your hips, yanking you toward him and you so easily comply, melting completely into his broad chest and immediately feeling a sense of warmth as if you’ve always belonged there, wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re blushing,” he remarks gently, making you realize he’s pulled apart from you to study your face. His fingers brush away the hair that falls into your eyes and he smiles. “You’re blushing now after you walked in on me naked? God, you’re so cute.”

You whine something in protest, burying your face in his neck and he laughs. His fingers tickle at your sides, causing you to squirm in his grip, and when you look at him again, his stare is tender and fond.

“Come here,” he mumbles.

You let him pull you into another kiss that has your head spinning. His tongue grazes your lower lip, teeth slightly nibbling down on the flesh in a way that jolts your heart. As your hands snake up his chest to wind with the hair at the nape of his neck, your own mouth parts open, letting his tongue twine with yours in a heated kiss. He can feel everything against his own body, from the perk of your breasts to the slope of your hips. His hands slide down to rest upon your lower back and the way he pulls you flush against him, letting you brush against his firm cock, makes your head spin again. It’s what wills you to start grinding your hips against his in a slow pattern that has his breath hitching in his throat, his fingers digging tighter into your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” his voice is husky as he speaks, smooth as it filters through your ears.

You can’t help but smirk against his mouth. “Likewise.”

“How about we get out of here?” he asks. “The bed seems a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

You nod eagerly, mumbling a small, “Please,” against his luscious lips, too reluctant to pull away. He seems to have trouble, too, as he remains in his spot, even long after he reaches down to turn the water off, his lips still locked with yours. Granted, it gives you time to dry off before he’s hoisting you up with ease, instinctively letting your legs wrap around him. A thought abruptly pops into your head and causes you to gasp, your lips parting from his with a significant pop.

“Jungkook!” You scold. “Be careful! Did you forget about the gaping wound in your side or?”

“I’m fine,” he assures, already swiftly carrying you out of the bathroom and into your room.

“I don’t care what your magical radioactive spider bite does for you,” You retort. “I don’t want to somehow hurt you.”

He laughs in response, a sound that reverberates against his chest and your own torso. He’s already standing by the bed when he carefully lowers you down onto it. He crawls over you, instantly towering over your body as he leans down to chase your lips. In one quick movement, you hook your leg around his waist and, using your hands, shift him over until he’s on his back and you’re cradling his hips. He seems surprised at first, his stare flickering from the navel of your stomach to the soft buds of your breasts. Past the valley of your chest, his eyes fall once more upon yours and he smiles breathlessly, his hair sticking up in tufts.

“Really?”

Your eyes fall to the stitched wound on his side covered in gauze and your fingers brush against it delicately, following the natural curve of his abs. “I’m serious, bugboy. You may be this notorious, unstoppable force out there, but to me you’ll always be Jungkook.”

He pouts. “That doesn’t sound as cool as being Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man is cool.”

“See? Even you think so. This is why I never told you ━ everyone thinks Spider-Man is cooler than Jungkook.”

A roll of your eyes has him smirking, though the smile is quick to falter when you begin to grind your hips against his, feeling his firm member poke at your thigh. His jaw drops open slightly at the sudden contact, his brows knitting together in slick concentration as his eyes fall to your glistening soft core.

“You didn’t let me finish,” You breathe steadily. “Spider-Man is cool, but Jungkook is cooler. You’ve always been strong and dauntless to me. You’ve always been a hero to me.”

“God,” he moans, “you’re making it really hard to focus on how cute you’re being when I can already feel how wet you are.”

The giggle that slips past your lips only further proves his point. His head rolls back against the pillows beneath him as you continue to slowly grind against him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

“No, no,” he gasps. “Holy shit, no. We can save the mushy talk for afterwards, right? Please?”

You nod briskly, gulping for air as you feel the burning sensation between your thighs. Your fingers dance down the front of your stomach to the bundle of nerves that you rub at carefully. Jungkook watches intensely as you pleasure yourself before him, feels his own cock hardening at the sight of your fingers gracefully rubbing patterns into your clit, coating your digits with your leaking cum. He writhes beneath you, desperately aware of his own need for you, but god help him if he doesn’t finish watching or helping you get off. He swallows thickly, loosening his dry throat.

“Well, if you’re gonna make me sit here then,” he says, “can you at least let me help?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good,” he grins. “Then come sit on my face.”

He says it so confidently that it has you stuttering in your pace. Your eyes flicker down to his mischievously twinkling eyes and the way he bites on his lower lip. You hardly hesitate at his command, pushing yourself off of his crotch and shuffling yourself forward, tossing one knee over his head so that he’s seated nicely between your thighs. His hands remain on your hips to keep you steady as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, murmuring, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Sit back and relax.”

You do as you're told, letting him pull you carefully down to his face and feeling as he leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh. When his mouth is hovering just over your core, you can feel his warm breath fanning against you and hum in delight, waiting eagerly for his every move. He nudges you closer and closer until you feel that one fell sweep of his tongue against your core, warm and slick as it grazes your folds, immediately sending a shock of white hot pleasure surging through your body. A shocked moan emits from your parted lips in a sound similar to, “Ooh,” that has Jungkook smirking against you.

Suddenly, all you can focus on is him and the way his tongue works so expertly against you, kitten licking at your core until you’re dripping wet in a lewd combination of saliva and your own succulence. You nearly lose your balance the moment he makes contact with you and, with each passing second of immense pleasure, it makes it more difficult to hold on. Your thighs shamelessly squeeze shut (though Jungkook grips lightly onto one of your thighs to shift you apart) and when you feel yourself wobble, breathless and dizzy from the feeling of hot fire burning at your core, your hands fly out to grasp at Jungkook’s carob locks, silky to the touch as they slide out from the seams of your fingers. Admittedly, having Jungkook’s face buried beneath your thighs is a ridiculously hot sight that only spurs your blatant spiral into a panting mess.

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

The moan that leaves you is throaty, guttural and Jungkook swears he’s never heard anything sexier. Watching you writhe helplessly above him is all that he needs. As his tongue licks firmly at your clit, he can’t help but reach down to his own hard dick. His fingers wrap delicately around his shaft and he pumps himself slowly, groaning into your womanhood at the thought of your delicious and hot walls wrapped around him. He shuts his eyes as he works in a smooth rhythm against both him and yourself, imagining what it would be like to just have you anyway he wants, imagining your own reactions similar to the ones you’re making now.

“Ah, shit━” You gasp suddenly. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good━”

God, there you go again. His palm squeezes harder against his member at your breathy moans and he swears you’re driving him absolutely mad. To him, this feels so surreal. He’s dreamed of this; he’s dreamed and wanted nothing more innocent than to just fucking hold your hand and yet here you are in such a compromising position with him and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world. The best part about it all is that you make him feel this much bliss, this dizzy, when he’s simply just around you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you.

Your fingers clutch a little tighter at his roots and his eyes snap open. He stares up at your frazzled mess and, with his free hand, presses his fingers against your core in areas that his tongue has yet not reached. He coats his digits in your glistening arousal and coaxed with such ease he’s able to push them past your folds, earning another beautiful moan from you. He curls his finger inside you, stretching your core, flicks his tongue a little harder at your clit, squeezes his own hand tighter around his cock as he desperately jacks himself off to this, to you. He pumps his finger in and out of you in tandem with his own hand around his length, hearing your sweet whimpers and choked moans.

He must curl his finger just right inside of you or maybe it’s the way your sensitive clit begins to throb with each lick he takes or maybe it’s when he joins his tongue with his finger in a dangerous duo but then you jut your hips forward ever so slightly and jerk them back. He’s eating you out with such vigour, such hard passion that you can feel his chin and his nose brush against your core and each contact has you gasping. He pulls apart just enough when he feels you jerk your hips backward again and you’re so caught up in the pure ecstasy that has overcome you that you hardly realize until you hear him speaking, muttering faintly against your folds, “C’mon, baby. Ride my face. Cum for me.”

His only response is a weak sputtering as you try to gasp for air. You don’t need to be told twice at this point as you feel as if you’re chasing after your high. You unabashedly begin rocking your hips against his mouth and fingers. He tilts his head just right so that his nose burrows into your clit, his tongue and digit slipping further within your walls that clench around the thought of having something of girth like Jungkook’s length inside you. Jungkook’s own hand slacks at his pace around his member, his fingers reaching up to dig into your waist and thighs to hold you in place as you continuously rock against him. You’re so close, you can feel the familiar tension start to form in the very pit of your stomach.

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

Your voice breaks off into frail croaks, your hands flying out to grab onto the sturdy frame of your bed in front of you as you feel your high approach. Jungkook pulls you harder against his face, letting you grind against him as he burrows into you, completely ravaging you with his mouth until you feel your release take hold of you. It shakes you to the bone, causes you to writhe in pleasure above him as you come to a halt, emitting a loud moan of his name as your hot release leaks onto his chin, coating his mouth in your shimmering cum.

“Fuck, fuck━ Jungkook!” Your nails dig into the bed frame, your teeth sinking into your lower lip and muffling your dulcet moans.

He laps at your core, licking away every last drop of your succulence until your hips twitch away from the sensitivity you feel. When he finally pulls apart from you, he stares up at you from between your thighs with an amused smirk, his hair messily mused from your doing. You muster a faint smile in return as you pant heavily, attempting to calm your shrill heart and he beckons you over. You blissfully clamber back down his torso, once more straddling his hips as you curl up into his chest, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your own mouth and it’s something so gentle, so ardent, that it warms your heart.

“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles between kisses. “Round two?”

Giggling, you part from him momentarily only to reconnect your lips to his jawline, nibbling on the soft skin there. “How about I let you have a turn?”

He quirks a brow in curiosity though he already knows your intentions as your hand flutters down his stomach. He can’t help the moan that slips past his lips as he feels your soft hands grasp firmly at his hardened cock. He feels as if he could practically melt in your hands or explode at any moment and you hadn’t even done anything. His hips instinctively buck into your fist but he shakes his head. He sits up suddenly, startling you in your spot though his hands come out to grasp at your face and hold you in place as he kisses you feverishly.

“How about,” he breathes, nipping at your lower lip, “you let me make love to you right here, right now.”

For a moment, you become carried away with the taste of his lips mingled with your wet arousal that fades away fast. You return the kiss with such zeal, too reluctant to part from him just yet, that when you muster the nerve to lean away, you’re panting heavily.

“Not so fast, bugboy,” You taunt. “I still want you to rest.”

You give him a little nudge backward and he obediently follows your wordless command, plopping back against the pillows of your bed as he looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs.

“I don’t know if you can consider sex as resting,” he points out playfully, a wry grin plastered on his face.

He watches as you smile, the rapid heave and fall of your chest, as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable again on his lap and have lifted your hips off of him. Your hand wraps around his shaft once more and you pump him once, twice, in slow motions as you spread the leaking cum from his throbbing head along his shaft. His jaw drops open at the feeling, eyebrows knitting together, and his fingers dig a little too harshly into your skin accidentally but you don’t at all mind ━ not when you’re able to see such a beautiful reaction from him as he comes undone before you.

Seconds pass of bated breath as you lower yourself slowly, carefully, to his cock. You run the tip of his length along your folds and up to your clit, rubbing small patterns against it that has both of you whimpering lowly. You coat him in your leaking arousal and then lower yourself onto him, finally connecting the two of your bodies as one.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

Jungkook seriously feels as if he’s about to explode ━ literally. You’ve only just sat on him and he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself together long enough before he feels his sweet release. You’re just so warm and wet, so deliciously wet, that he slides easily into your walls that hug him just right. His mind is spinning, and even more so when he feels you stop halfway and lift your hips again. You drop them to the same level and then back again, repeating this process until you drop your hips fully, flush with his.

“Oooh, Jungkook, hmm,” Your fingers dig into his abdomen at the feeling of being so damn full. You can practically feel him throbbing and your own walls clench and release around him as you adjust to his size.

“Move━” he chokes out. “Move, please━ holy shit━”

And you do. You grind against him, rolling your hips around his firm cock as the fire continues to burn between your legs. You raise your hips languidly and drop them back down again and again until you’ve adopted some fluid rhythm, being so easily coaxed by your own cum.

“Like this?” You gasp.

He nods absentmindedly, swallowing thickly. “Fuck yes, just like that, baby.” His head rolls back against the pillows, the vein in his neck straining, “You feel so━ so fucking good.”

“Tell me,” You breathe.

Jungkook finds it hard to concentrate when his eyes fall on you. He watches as your breasts move in tandem as you ride him, the glistening arousal on your folds that coat his length that he watches disappear into you each time. He greedily reaches out as he’s lost in his own thoughts, his hand cupping your plush breast in a firm hold, his thumb brushing against your perked nipple. Your back arches in response, leaning closer to his warm hand, as he focuses on the tightness that is your core.

“Warm,” he moans. “So, so fucking wet ━ oh my god, you’re dripping, baby. Shit, you feel so perfect around my cock.”

You cry out his name, quickening your pace as you chase your high. Your strides are relentless, desperately searching for a sweet release and Jungkook feels the same. He’s held it in this long ━ he isn’t so sure he can hold himself together for much longer. He can’t take it anymore. Just as he feels you slowing down from exhaustion, he sits up once more, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you tight against his chest. Your own arms slide around his neck and you lean forward to crash your lips against his as you roll your hips steadily against his now. The new angle has him hitting a spot in you that shakes you to the core, has stars forming in your eyes.

You bite down hard on his lower lip accidentally as you try to conceal the loud moan that bubbles at your lips. Jungkook only smirks in response, especially when you shamelessly let those strangled moans out. As you sink lower onto him, Jungkook thrusts his hips upward to meet yours halfway, earning a sharp gasp from you. He tightens his hold on you and continues to thrust up into you again and again, so hard and so fast that it makes you writhe with pleasure above him. You can feel him stretching you wide each time, can feel your sticky arousal begin to trickle down his cock and your thighs.

So much for making sure he doesn’t hurt himself again ━ his thrusts are pure animalistic, hasty and needy, though all either of you care about in that moment is feeling that sweet release. You collapse entirely against Jungkook’s arms, letting him take hold of you as his hips smack against your ass. When you finally feel your second high of the night approach, your reaction feels near explosive. He thrusts again and again and you choke out somewhere between the sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing, “J━Jungkook━ Fuck! I’m close━”

He growls in response, eager to push you to yours as he chases for his. Another thrust and, holy shit, there. He hits a spot in you once, twice, and over and over again that just feels so incredibly good that you can’t help but unravel in his arms. It takes you by surprise, washing over you an immense cloud of bliss as white-hot pleasure blinds you, starting from your core and spiralling out to every edge of your body until your toes are curling. You cry out his name in a beautiful harmonious sound as your cum leaks profusely from you and coats him just right.

Fuck this ━ he doesn’t care anymore that you want him to rest. He needs to feel his own release now. So he grabs you securely and then he’s twisting you around, shoving you onto your back as he pushes his hips into you. You’re writhing beneath him, your back arching until your warm and sweaty chest is pressed against his. Your fucked out expression that stares back up at him but with such tired and loving eyes only spurs him on further (that, and the way you’re clenching so nicely around him). It’s completely messy but he’s so close. Another hard slap of his hips and then he’s finally coming undone. He pulls out of you fast, his hand coming down to grab at his cock as he pumps himself, thickly coated with your juices.

He cums moments later with a deep, rough moan, releasing onto your stomach in ivory beads that paint you his. His hand slacks around his softening length and then he, so spent and slightly sore from his wound (only slightly, he swears), collapses against you. The room suddenly falls silent, safe for the heavy panting and the shrill beating of your hearts that you both try to tame. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms wrap around him to lazily twine his hair with your fingers. It’s nice to just lay there like that, enveloped in each other's arms, basking in the heavenly glow of euphoria. He kisses your neck then, soft and simple, and litters kisses down your throat to your collarbones and then back up again to your lips.

When he parts from you, his eyes remain locked on your mouth until he forces himself to look away and up at you. You’re smiling at him and it’s the type of genuine, albeit exhausted, smile that always warms his insides and makes him feel at ease. Tracing the curve of your lips with his index finger, he hums thoughtfully to himself.

“I lied about before,” he says sheepishly. When you quirk a brow at him, he continues. “I lied about before when you asked me if I’m ever afraid when I go out at night. I’m always afraid. Part of why I wear that mask is so the people I’m up against don’t see me wimping out. But, god, when I’m with you, I feel invincible.”

He watches as a light blush pinches at your cheeks, your fingers reaching up to softly graze his cheek.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “I love you. I always have and I swear you make me stronger. I don’t know what it is. I think I just want to fight harder for you. I know I was a dick for leaving that night but I know we can make this work. I just need you to believe in me, too.”

Your eyes, littered with stardust, stare into his as if he is the entire world. “I’m strong, too, Jungkook. I don’t always need protection.”

“I know that,” he chuckles.

“Good. Then get back down here and kiss me again, bugboy.”

Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t hesitate to lean down to press his lips lovingly to yours. He melts against your chest and he is content if every night is like this, in each other’s arms. As he deepens the kiss, he hears you whisper against his lips, “I love you, too, bugboy,” and it is all he needs to feel as if he has the world in his very palm.

Jungkook has always been afraid. He is afraid of not living to see the next day, afraid of losing you or his family or friends but every shred of fear fades away when he’s with you. As the city continues to breathe from beyond the brick walls of your apartment and as the sun begins to rise from the very heart of the metropolis along the horizon, Jungkook is certain that he and you together are invincible.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 327 Spoiler Analysis: Home Sweet Home

OH MY GOD, GUYS!!!  DEKU GETS A BATH!!!! 🎉🛁 🧼   My broccoli boy finally gets squeaky clean, gets some sleep, and we finally get some R&R time with the Class 1-A kids.  It’s not close to the happy-go-lucky days of old, but it’s some time with the kids nonetheless.  I’m glad Horikoshi put some heart and humor in this chapter because god knows we needed it.  But, let’s be real, this is the calm before the storm:

The chapter starts off with what everyone and Horikoshi has been wanting for Deku since he went on his mission: A motherfuckin’ bath 🛀 🧼🛁!   Kaminiari and Kirishima lead the Class 1-A boys to carry Deku into their side of the UA Alliance bathhouse (looks real nice btw) and give him a good power-wash.  The whole sequence is very comical!  The boys are rushing in and poor Deku has this O_O face on him like “what is happening?” 😂 We also see some of the boys butt naked 😳  It’s clear that Horikoshi had fun drawing this thing and it was fun to read 💚

Bakugo is with them of course and you can actually see his scars from when Shigaraki stabbed him.  He’s not bleeding, but you can see those scar patches on his skin.  I’m curious of how fan artist are going to draw him from now on.  I would like to see that fan art 👀

There’s also some bubble sfx coving Bakugo’s crotch and a translator said it might say dick or penis.  I’m curious what the officials will say.

But, Bakugo being Bakugo is still aggressive towards his classmates.  More playfully than before, but still.  He reminds everyone that he still intends on being the best there is and that everyone is still his rivals (also friends, Bakugo).  HE EVEN MAKES AN ATTEMPT TO CALL DEKU IZUKU!  LIKE HE ALMOST SAID “DEKU” BUT HE CHANGED IT TO IZUKU AT THE LAST MINUTE!  AND DEKU SAYS THAT CALLING HIM DEKU IS JUST FINE LIKE THAT ANGER THAT ORIGINATED FROM THE NICKNAME ISN’T THERE ANYMORE AND IT’S A FREINDLY NICKNAME BKDK FRIENDSHIP GROWTH YOU LOVE TO SEE IT 🧡💚  

After Deku’s bath, he’s sitting in the commons talking to the rest of Class 1-A.  Well, most of them.  Mina tells Deku that Ochako and a few other students went to bed after everything became ok again.  So, I definitely didn’t see Tsuyu, and it looks like Shoji, Aoyama, and Hagakare weren’t in this chapter either.  Ochako I understand; her speech must’ve been emotionally taxing.  Aoyama and Hagakare are the top suspects for being the traitor in the fandom and this isn’t helping their cases.  I don’t know about Tsuyu and Shoji though.  They’re both mutant-types, but characters like Ojiro or mutant-like people like Jiro, Mina or Tokoyami didn’t get outcasted.  Horikoshi did hint that Shoji would be getting something soon.  But, I really am just speculating here.

Now that Deku’s back, everyone has questions for him.  Though I understand why, this has gotta be overwhelming for Deku.  At least they’re not mad at him for hiding OFA.  They seem very understanding actually.

Then my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto Todoroki, comes in all handsome right out of the baths 💙  He’s drying his right side while you can see a steam cloud on his left.  So, it is canon that Shoto drys himself naturally with his heat. His entrance is so pretty that even Mineta’s questioning it (shut up, Mineta, you’ll never be as beautiful as him).  And yes, I might be a Shoto simp, don’t judge me I see y’all too 👀

Anyway, Shoto asks everyone to let Deku sleep since that was pretty much the whole reason they brought him back.  Problem is, Deku can’t because he really needs to apologize to All Might for abandoning him.  AND AFTER HE SAYS THAT THERE’S A DETAILED PANEL OF SHOTO POINTING TO ALL MIGHT LIKE “UH, MIDORIYA? HE’S RIGHT THERE” AND ALL MIGHT LOOKING FROM THE WINDOW LIKE A HORROR VILLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE 😭

All Might comes in and apologizes to Deku for not being able to support him when he needed it, but Deku says that All Might support him more than enough.  Mina also scolds All Might for not saying anything when he left.  She wants All Might to apologize to everyone for that.  Though I’m glad Deku and All Might have reconciled (I honestly thought that last convo between them was going to be THE LAST for a hot minute), Mina has a point.  All Might did bail on all of them without any warning.  Kinda messed up in general.

All Might apologizes and he is going to fight with everyone regardless of his physical state so that he can see that flame continue to shine.  However, he warns the kids that they got info on the villains and that the final decisive battle is coming soon.  If the whole “Final Arc” thing hasn’t been hammered into your head, there you go.  I’m also glad that Stain’s speech did end up motivating All Might further.  Who knew?

So, All Might is off to help Endeavor since he’s got unfinished business to take care of.  But, the kids are wondering why Endeavor (and probably Hawks) isn’t entering UA entirely yet.  Shot reminds them that Endeavor is still connected to Dabi and that his presence alone would cause more discourse.  People’s minds can’t change that easily.  Shoto of all people would know.  

As Deku FINALLY SLEEPS 💤 and Shoto puts a blanket over him (possibly warmed by his left side 🔥) 💙💚 Shoto acknowledges how his presence might be making people anxious too even though it’s not his fault at all (thank you, Kirishima for doubling down on this btw ❤️🪨).  But, things are different and Shoto’s going to show that so that everyone can be at ease like he wants as a hero.  There’s even this sweet small smile on his beautiful face as he says this.  He’s grown so much and he’s pretty to boot I love him so much *HANDS IN FACE* 💙❄️🔥 

EVEN KIRISHIMA’S CRYING FROM HOW MANLY SHOTO IS I LOVE THESE KIDS!!!!

And now Jiro steps up and says her piece.  That she knows how hard it is to convince everyone to change their minds for the better.  Like with those two critics from the Culture Fest.  Even so, they accomplished this before, so she thinks they can do it again.  She even gathers all the band members to emphasize on this.  I love how Jiro uses her earphone jacks to rally the band and how she literally drags Bakugo by the shirt for a cute group shot.  None of these kids are afraid of Bakugo anymore LOL 😂!  Also, Momo is the tallest out of all of them in this line up shot (except for Bakugo who’s still being dragged on the ground).  I think she’s roughly 5ft 6-7 inches?  She’s the tallest of the girls I know that, but damn.  She towers all of them.  Even me...  She’s also very pretty in this shot and it’s her birthday as I’m posting this, so happy b-day Momo ❤️

And we get a beautiful panel of Jiro leading everyone to make sure that they’ll go beyond with making everything better than it was before.  We get a nice group shot of the rest of the class agreeing with her with a smile including Shoto with a small one (did I mention that I love him?) 💙💙💙 And Deku’s in the center still sleeping away.  I hope he has good dreams *kisses forehead*💚  And go Jiro for stepping up to the plate too 💜!  All these kids have grown so much.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Finally, the last pages show Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist going somewhere, maybe Tartarus.  They got info out of Dr. Ujiko via polygraph and the Nomu Research Group at Central Hospital.  They predict that they have 2 months until Shigaraki’s ready to go again, so they’ll need 1 month of preparation.  But, the info Stain gave All Might gave them more info.  His letter ended up being a personal letter to All Might (Stain really is that nuts...), but there was a microchip in the blade Stain left containing the security records from Tartarus.  It’s not stated how this info affected the mission at hand, but it sounds like it has to do something with the time frame.  So, I’m curious if they have less time to prepare or more?  Given how this is the Final Arc, Imma say less.

Finally, the teaser asks “How are the villains moving?”  I wonder if that means we’re switching to the villain’s next week.  I would love to hang out with the kids more, but I would also like to know what our villains are up to.  Like, where the hell is Himiko Toga?  Is Spinner still questioning shit?  What happened to Mr. Compress after he mauled himself to help Shigaraki and the others escape?  Also I think we need more info on this dude’s backstory given he’s the grandson of the famous Robin Hood villain who’s name definitely didn’t escape me... 😐  Is Dabi laughing his ass off from the utter chaos he started?  Is AFO still smiling like the evil mastermind he is?  Is Shigaraki as crispy as he was earlier?  I was going to ask about Twice but... 😭

So, yeah!  Love this chapter.  Really good transition chapter into whatever happens next.  I’m kinda sad we didn’t see Deku fight off more past villains during his vigilante days.  We got Muscular and Overhaul and I think that’s it?  Didn’t see any of Overhaul’s minions or that teeth-blade villain (Fish-something?; he broke out, but we haven’t seen him since) or Re-Destro or his goons.  I don’t count as Gentle or LaBrava as villains anymore and they were never truly evil to begin with.  Regardless, it was a really cool arc to see a more dark side of Deku.  I’m really glad Horikoshi made great use of his bunny hood and metal mask finally.  Deku really did look demonic for some time.  Also, seeing Deku badass is always a plus.  And seeing the deconstruction of hero society and the possible reconstruction of it was really good too.  Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, unfortunately, but we can do our best to make it that way.

I’m also glad that we finally got our kids back in top form.  Not just being heroes, but being teenagers too.  They all had great moments especially Iida, Ochako, and now Shoto as they should.  But, Bakugo’s apology was peak for me.  Over 320 chapters of development and build-up lead to that moment and it really is one of the best in the series.  It lives in my head rent free.

So, we got 1-2 months in-manga-time until what is probably the final battle of the series.  God, I can’t believe we’re actually nearing the end of this series.  I started reading it back in 2018 when shit was rough for me. I found this series after listening to the music and reading the hype around it.  I watched the show then I read the manga and it really helped me.  Saved me from a dark place actually.  I will miss this series when it’s done and I will be greatly for the joy Horikoshi has gifted us.  I’ll try to save the farewells for later.  I’d say this series has at least 1-1 1/2 years to go.

Me @ the kids and All Might:

[sunflowersteves]

alive and well || b.f.

summary || whoever was in the familiar green armor before you was about to feel your wrath for stealing what wasn’t theirs. 

author’s note || this is my first boba fic so pls go easy. it was also way longer than i intended and very sad but i hope you all enjoy!

warnings || angst, sadness, fluff, soft!boba

masterlist

You never thought you would be back in the place you dread most. You hated it—your body filled with pure contempt as your feet trudged across the hot sands. Jabba’s Palace looked almost exactly the same as you remembered it. The red rusty metal gleamed against the blazing suns of Tatooine.

You could feel the bounty hunter’s eyes behind you, making sure to escort you into the large building. Everything was dark, with no light or windows to pave the way in front of you. The bounty hunter pushed you forward, and you let out a groan, almost falling onto the ground. Despite knowing that they can’t see you, you still send them a glare. 

The aura took no mercy on everyone around it; cruelty and greed were highly regarded above all else. There was always someone on top, someone that ruled over others. Someone always had control over the forsaken land and its people. 

And that was currently Bib Fortuna. 

After that day, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with that place. Bib tried to convince you otherwise, but you sneered at him and spoke in a venomous tone.

“There will never be a day when I’ll want to come back to this wretched place.”

So having one of his lackeys come and ask for your presence had confused you. He was aware of what would happen if you came back, of what would happen to him if you came back. You blamed all of them for what had happened on that day, and you would make them pay. 

The bounty hunter pushed you slightly for what felt like the hundredth time, hinting for you to get a move on. You want to squeeze your eyes shut at the familiar stairwell, bile rising in your throat. You thought of him and those brown eyes staring back at you. You thought of his lips and how they felt against your cheeks. You thought of his skin and how it felt flushed against yours, the heat radiating off onto you. You thought about his hand clinging to yours, feet dangling in front of the Sarlacc pit. You thought about those soft words that poured through the modulator of the helmet. 

“It’s okay, little one. It’ll be okay. Let go.”

Your boots touch the hard ground of the cantina area, the music loud with dancers floating on tables and customers chugging Spotchka. Your eyes trailed from table to table to watch everyone with a sneer. 

You knew you shouldn’t have come back to this place, a wave of disgust washes over you. Your eyes follow to the center of the room, right where the throne is. You expected Bib Fortuna to be sitting there with a smug expression while he whipped one of his slaves. You expected Bib Fortuna to want something from you, to exploit your services for his own gain. 

But what you weren't expecting was to see him. No, his armor. There was no possible way that that was him. You had watched him die. You had watched him fall into the depths of the Sarlacc pit, the tears stinging your eyes as he let go. 

So who the fuck is this?

The newly painted armor shined against the dim lights; it looked brand new. It didn’t have the chipped paint that you remember or the small bits of rust packed on the side. The visor was locked in your direction; whoever was underneath your riduur’s helmet was staring at you.  

Before you could even really think, you pointed a blaster straight at the helmet. The whole room becomes dead with silence, anticipation leaking from the walls. The amount of respect held for the thief before you had surprised you quite a bit. Bib Fortuna only had Jabba’s reign that kept him at the top. So whoever this being was, they were highly regarded and feared by others around the cantina. 

The mercenary next to them immediately reacted back with a blaster now pointed directly at your head. But it didn’t phase you. You held your ground and spoke with pure venom against your voice, “Take it off.”

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t look at the mercenary that spoke. Your eyes set right on the black visor. Honestly, you straight up ignored her, and the blaster pointed at you. You didn’t care, not when someone was wearing his armor. 

“That armor doesn’t fucking belong to you. Take it off.”

“That armor does belong to him.”

You wanted to give her an exasperated look. You know who the armor belongs to, and it wasn’t them. There was no possible way that it was theirs. “No, It doesn’t. He probably found it somewhere. Kriffing—take it off.”

She smirked. “Or what?”

Your eyes finally flick over towards the mercenary with your hardened gaze never wavering. You spoke your next words carefully, making sure that every syllable was articulated. You wanted everyone in Jabba’s Palace to know just exactly who you were. 

“I peel it off his dead body.”

Her fingers pressed against the trigger, you mentally prepared yourself for the mistake you were making. The entire cantina was full of people who would shoot you in a split second. She was almost about to shoot when a booming voice rang against the walls. 

“Everyone out!”

You almost had to double-take at the sound of that voice. You knew that voice. You knew that voice better than your own. You could spot the click of his tongue and the shake of his vocal cords. Your gun only lowered slightly as you try and decipher whether or not your ears were playing tricks on you.

It took some convincing for the mercenary to leave, but everyone filed out as quickly as possible. The helmet, however, stayed right on you. He never wavered or faltered as everyone rushed out of the room. Your hand reacted quickly at the movement of his hands; the blaster pointed at his head again. He lifted his hands before slowly reaching his helmet. Once he saw that you weren’t going to shoot him, he started to lift his helmet. The hissing sound lifted into your ears as he slowly showed his face and the scene before you made your heart stop.

It was him.

He was alive. He even looked well. 

Your riduur was sitting right in front of you on a fucking throne. He was much different, that much you saw. There were new scars that were scattered on his face, and he didn’t have the fluffy black hair you once remembered. There were small wrinkles that deepened his smile lines, and his eyes had a sense of void in them. 

Before, they were lively and spirited. Before, they shined bright against many suns and glowed in the depths of moons. But now, they seemed duller, more broken.

You lowered your gun ever so slowly. Was it really him? Was the love of your life really standing before you? You didn’t know how many moments had passed that had been spared from the time you had been staring at him. You even didn’t know how long it had been since you started crying, the tears soaking your cheeks and dripping down your chin. 

“Boba, is—is that really you?”

The soft pillows of your voice struck his ears, and he could’ve sworn it was the most beautiful sound he had heard in quite some time. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he thought about the days, weeks, and years you went through, knowing he didn’t make it on that day. But, you were here. His little one was right in front of him, flesh and blood. 

“It’s really me, little one. I’m here. I’m alive.”

You were closer to him now, having taken a few steps onto the throne. A part of you wanted to reach out and touch his face, to hold him and never let go. However, the other part didn’t want to pressure him. What you had was in the past, far away from the surface of what once was. 

Before you could even make a decision, Boba grabbed you so desperately into his lap. The cool metal your body felt made you ache, pure fire burning through your body as he quickly took off his gloves. He needed to feel you. He needed to feel the soft crevasses of your skin, the rough calluses that grew beneath you, the edges and rounds of each and every part of your body. 

Your hands immediately went to rest on his cheeks, a gasp leaving his lips at the sensation. You didn’t waste any more seconds and pressed your lips against his, mouths colliding and mushing against one another. His hands roamed your body in desperation, his fingertips tingling at the familiar feel of your silky skin.

In between each kiss, you both sputtered out sweet words, grabbing and twisting at every waking moment. “I missed you. I’ve never stopped missing you.” He let out a breath, “you were always on my mind, little one. There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you.”

You never thought that this moment would come to life—you had dreamed of it many times. You never thought you would ever see him again except for your memories. But he was here. He was right in front of you—kissing you, loving you. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. You are my alit, my one true love.”

“I love you, I love you, I love—” You cut him off with another kiss, begging for those lips to never leave yours. Your hands ran down his chest plate, the hard surface struck upon the pads of your fingers. Your lungs screamed at you for some type of relief, but you never wanted to give in. 

“Never leave. Never leave me again. Never—”

“I’m never leaving. For as long as you want me, I’m yours.”

You shook your head slightly at yourself, “I should've looked for you. I should’ve gone there to save you. I should’ve held onto you tighter. I should’ve tried harder—”

He quickly grabbed your hands and held them tightly against his chest. His mouth pressed kisses against your cheeks and nose before diving back to your lips again. 

“Cyare, there was nothing you could’ve done. I was dead. I was gone. By luck, I was saved, and I knew you’d come back to me. I always knew.”

Your cheeks were still wet from the buckets of tears that had poured out of your eyes. Your hands shook slightly from the pure shock of the moment. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was that you were home. You were with him, and that’s all you could ever ask for. Your riduur found his way back into your arms. 

~~

Star Wars: @marvelous-capsicle​ @fandomsandxfiles​ @mudhornchronicles​ @cutebubblylmp​ @3strogen​

Permanent Taglist: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​ 

[xfeliciahardyx]

Summary: What happened in the bakery changed you. The next few years would force you to harden and build so many walls that you vowed to never let anyone in. You can probably guess what happens when a certain soldier starts to scale those walls so that he can get to you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: mention of blood, intense details about ww2, side character deaths, traumatic backgrounds, mention of Nazis, mentions of broken bones and bullet wounds, children suffering due to the war, imprisonment in a concentration camp, someone does get stabbed, and angst (Warnings will be added as the story continues if need be. This is just for the first chapter!)

Taglist: ~Here~ (Feel free to add yourself to any other categories!)

Word Count: 9k

Author's Note: Okay everyone reading I first want to say thank you for reading my imagine. There are some things that I need to clarify before you start reading this. The entire series will be me going through the Captain America movies. It first starts at The First Avenger and continues through the places in time where Bucky is and where he is not OoOoOoO plot twists. But yes this can be overwhelming to read because some details are VERY graphic. i did use techniques from my medical skills class so all the medical procedures are researched and correct. Please enjoy The Winter Soldier and The White Feather or as I like to call it WSWF

The war was changing you and everyone around you. It was making kind people turn green and bad people even worse. You learned that the hard way of course. When you’d had been taken to the facility you didn’t know what to expect. Now you had been in it for God knows how long and you didn’t know what would happen. You had no way of contacting your family. Of contacting anyone you knew really. You were lost, scared, hoping for a savior that didn’t seem to be appearing. Lost traveling in a fog ridden meadow without any sense of direction. It killed you to see how many people died and suffered at the hands of the Germans, but your screams were of no use. The way they treated everyone was as horrible as a cat chasing a mouse. Like you were the filth on their boots, the scum of the earth. Any time someone said something to them they’d react as if a fire touched their skin and recoil away. They acted as if they didn’t have enough money to feed anyone properly. The food was sure to break several health codes back in the city but that didn’t seem to stop you all from eating it. If it wasn’t stale bread that you could knock someone out with, it was week old soup that had hints of green to it. The water was as piss pore and was a dull gray. Not your best moments or the biggest feast for the holidays but it was for survival. It was meant for you to get on through the day and do as you’re told. The inmates had started to call it the end of the world. You didn’t blame them because it was. That didn’t stop them from constantly complaining about every little thing. You on the other hand couldn’t give a fuck. It was like every single one up and flew away with the happiness that had been your life in France. You couldn’t even speak after the horrors the world and slammed into your life. You avoided everyone and everything that lived, scared and desperate to stay hidden. It was the way to go and others followed your lead. You weren’t one to speak or do anything with another person and the others around you knew it. So, they cleared their distance and you appreciated it. You had never been one to stay quiet for long around people. Eventually you’d try to get to know them. But you had changed just as times had. Even now you knew to keep your cool and to keep up with your manners. At any minute they could kill you. Or they could do something to shatter your already scarred mind. You knew you weren’t like the people who decided to suck up to them. Kissing the floor, they walked on for a little bit of clean water, or a bowl of soup that was freshly made. They were horrible to the suck ups and laughed at them as they did their best to seem appealing. You would never stoop as low to be a person who supported the people who had made this sad reality your life. Despite everything your parents had done to you, you always managed kindness. The girl who was secretly the crush of every guy because of her brains. The kind of girl that went to the library in her free time. The girl who never dated because she claimed she wanted to focus on school but could never know how to talk to guys. Went to the movies with her one friend who she cared about more than anything. The girl who made life positive because her family had always made it negative. Yes, you were over all kind but when you needed to be you could be as sharp as a spear. So, why did they kidnap you? It was simply a case of being at the wrong place in the wrong time. But that didn’t excuse their actions following the moments they walked in that bakery with their rifles held high and their voices screaming in curses. Why did they have to kill one of the most important people in your life right in front of you? Shot her straight through the heart at the bakery around the block from the school. All because she was Jewish. Their logic didn’t explain why they had the right to take her life. Her younger siblings had been complaining about food and you had an extra food stamp to use. You’d despised the stars they had to wear on their chest that prohibited them from having the normal things every person

needs. You all had practically skipped to the bakery in hopes that they’d have chocolate. It was a nice moment thinking that everything was back to normal. She had only been 21 and you 20. That was 3 years ago. Even so long after you could still imagine the events that had occurred. Her blood had splattered all over your polka dotted yellow dress. All she had asked for was food for her siblings. Sure, sweets would have been kind but you were all hungry in general. When the soldiers had come in, they’d been attracted to her star. You should have been on guard more, but you’d been naive to think they wouldn’t harm them. One had grabbed Ciera and pushed himself against her. In her reaction she’d kicked the German away and his comrade shot her. Her siblings that had been clinging to your side as they shot her cried out for their sister as she dropped to the ground. Siblings that had their throats slit as they clung to your arms. You had begged for their lives. They were just two children. You thought they would have a little mercy. You knew you would take care of them for their sister. You tried to explain that Tommy and Cassandra had been hungry, and their sister had been killed right in front of them. The trauma they had suffered was enough for their minds to endure. All of what was happening was enough to make anyone mad. It was necessary that they cry and mourn. But as heartless as they were, they showed no remorse. That two children crying for their dead sister would never and hadn’t stopped the Germans. They’d ripped the children from your hands and pressed their silver knives to their throats killed them. You wanted to fight for them. You loved them like your own siblings. They didn’t deserve the fate that had been handed to them. The third soldier had held your arms behind your back to stop you from tearing them away. You had tried to fight him, but you knew he wouldn’t let go. You watched the blood slip from their throats, and you sagged against the soldier. He had been the kinder of the three. A recruit perhaps. You didn’t realize until later that he’d held you in his embrace throughout the car ride to the place where you’d be transported. The screams that left their mouths still haunted you and you saw their terrified faces in your dreams. Sometimes they would come together as a group. Other times Tommy would visit you with blood seeping from his throat asking you for his sisters. You blamed yourself for not fighting hard enough. You watched as the life left your eyes when you knew it should have been you. You should have been dead on the ground with them as they lay dead next to their sister on the ground. Yes, life was unfair. But if life was unfair than war was no comparison.

“Gurl!” A German soldier yells pointing his finger to a spot in front of him. Most of them could barely speak English and when they did it was so slurred. Half the times you had to watch their hand motions to understand what they wanted. His eyes are locked on you from your spot by the back of the courtyard. It was a quiet place that everyone avoided because of the sun that would beam on you. They preferred the shade, but you just needed the quiet heat to cleanse your mind. You cursed and grabbed onto the chain fence behind you to lift yourself up. It bent with your weight but you knew it wouldn’t break. It was a trashy fence that if you tried to climb, you’d either be shot down or just get so scratched that you’d just end up doing more harm than good. The fence traveled around the vast courtyard that was rundown and brown. The fence had rust in certain spots from when it rained but it never did anything for the concrete. Blood stains covered the floor from where prisoners had been shot and dragged away. There were splatters and puddles all over the already dirty floor. Even on the ground leading into your cells you’d find the lengthened blood beneath your feet. The courtyard was the only time you got to see the outside world. They also had a calendar on the wall that told you what day it was. You weren’t sure why but maybe it was to bring down the spirits of everyone. You on the other hand had been there for 3 years 2 months and 25 days. Since the beginning of the German’s invasion of France. It was made up of mock punching bags filled with paper plates and hard pillows that no dared to sleep on. People sat in cliques all around speaking in different languages. Most of them spoke French and in your time there you’d picked up bits of other languages. Nothing too major but just enough to understand.

“Ve dount ave foreevare vittle gurl.” He yelled again and you picked up your pace. You didn’t want to do anything to cause any more attention to yourself. His accent sent prickles of fear up your spine and the hairs on your arms stood on end. As you walked by a few whispers drafted into your ears and people glanced away. Being called over by a soldier wasn’t a good thing and people avoided it as much as they could. There was always the possibility of someone getting shot or having to do something you weren’t mentally or physically prepared to do. So, the terror that was filling up your mind with endless possibilities wasn’t a fun thing. Anxiety tightened the space in your chest and your throat was constricted with worry. You stopped a few steps in front of the soldier who towered over you and said nothing as his eyes trailed over your body. Once upon a time you would have blushed and shifted awkwardly where you stood but now you stand still and stare straight at the wall behind the soldier to avoid eye contact. The mic on his shoulder beeps and he holds out a finger to you. You don’t respond and continue to stare straight ahead. He responds to the German voice in his native language rapidly and you fiddle with your hands behind your back. You could feel the tension rising around the two of you and it wasn’t good. His eyes had begun to harden more, and his posture grew rigid. His eyes darted around the dirt filled courtyard until he turned around and stared at a man. He had been beat up. On his eye was a purplish hue with hints of green. You saw a small limp in his walk as you turned your head in his direction. He stopped and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed a pair of tags dangling around his neck. The green Henley he wore was matted and had spatters of dried blood. His pants hung off his body, still fitting but with tears. Looking from the outside in he looked just as bad as every other prisoner of war. He had an unreadable expression as he surveyed his surroundings. You caught a small calculating look in his eyes as he scanned people that walked by. His eyes caught yours and your breath caught in your throat. He didn’t just stare at you from afar. He seemed to bare your soul out in front of everyone to see. His gaze was intense, and a hint of curiosity was in his dark eyes. The soldier beside you muttered something into his radio and your gaze snapped away from the handsome stranger and you turned back at attention. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your mind even as the soldier gave you your new group to follow to your cells. Everyone was given a number when they were placed in the camp. Each cell was alphabetized and most of the time people didn’t even pay attention to them. They did it to give themselves a feel of control. The only one you didn’t follow. You didn’t say anything back to him and when he dismissed you, you promptly walked back to your spot. You didn’t want to turn your head in the direction of the stranger you knew was walking over to you. You wanted to disappear, and you knew the moment he talked to you your tough exterior would break. There was something different about the way his head was held high and his shoulders never slumped. You could practically feel his confidence from across the courtyard and out of your peripheral vision. You slid down the fence with a sigh as you put your head in your knees. You took a few breaths to keep yourself calm as a pair of shoes came into view. They were brown and matted and looked like they’d seen better days.

“You okay?” a voice followed. It was low and soft, but it sent shivers down your spine. You slowly raised your eyes up the body that was wearing them, and your eyes widened in surprise where the man from before stood in front of you. He’s much taller than you initially realized and his eyes a deeper brown. He stares down at you with worry and you just stared at him not knowing what to do. He was around your age and it was rare you found anyone your age and that spoke a language you could speak. Sure, there were people who spoke your language and had tried to talk to you. Soon enough they stopped coming around because staying in a group too long would strike fearing the people because they wouldn’t want the Germans thinking new company meant rebellion. He moved to your side and carefully slid down the steel fence. You stared ahead at the people who stood in the middle of the courtyard.

“So, you people watch.” The stranger says motioning to the people in front of you both. You nod without looking at him keeping a close eye on the people in front of you. Something felt wrong about the gathering. It wasn’t anything good. Someone was shoved across into another person and you heard the stranger suck in a breath. He felt the sudden shift too and he pointed a finger towards a short man in broken glasses. His eyes flipped from each side of the courtyard where the two soldiers stood. His hands were clasped together, and his feet were headed in the direction of the crowd. You nudged your elbow into your newfound companions’ arm tilting your chin up in the direction of the people. The air felt stiff in the courtyard more than normal as the crowd began to step into a circle the short man now joining them. The soldiers seemed to notice it too because their gazes were hardened, and their guns were pointed. Your heart began to pound as you knew what was coming next. It haunted you every night ever since you had seen it the day you’d been kidnapped and taken to this camp. The images of Ciera’s body falling to the ground flashes through your vision and you shake your head, feeling your heart squeeze. The screams of her siblings were in the wind you closed your eyes tight and took in a deep breath. They were screaming out orders in German, but the group paid them no mind. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands rubbed against your rugged jeans completely lost to your nightmares that were coming to life. You opened your eyes slowly and looked around to see if anyone else was witnessing what was going down. A few other small groups of people watched from afar with dead eyes, but none made a move to assist. Your eyes were locked on the German soldier directly across from you that was walking towards the group. With each footstep your breathing became faster and your mind screamed for them to heed the warnings the Germans were giving. The group was large and growing by the minute which in the eyes of your captors was a bigger threat. The German nudged one of the people in the group with his gun and what happened next you had never expected. The stringy thin man with blood hair who had been poked spun around and stabbed the soldier in the neck with a foreign object and someone screamed. His hands went to his throat and he dropped his gun. The man dove for it as the soldier fell slowly bleeding out on the concrete. Everything was chaos as the gun dropped and a single bullet escaped from its chamber. The bullet flew across the courtyard and your eyes flew with it watching it impale a single child.

“No!” you screamed bolting up from your place by the fence. The soldiers burst into action firing down anyone who had been in the huge crowd. Everyone went running towards the inside of the prison, trying to avoid the bullets. It was pure chaos as people from everywhere were getting shot as they tried to escape the rage of the soldiers. There were screams of all different languages and you heard the cry of the mother above all. Her cries for her baby filled your ears as you raced across the courtyard toward the downed child. The man followed you close behind, and you paid him no mind as you shoved through the on rush of people. People were getting into meaningless fights as they tried to get away. A man stops in front of you making a grab for your waist. A hand presses against your chest shoving you back as the stranger jumps in front of you. He throws a hard punch at the man who’d made an attempt touch and he gets knocked to the ground. You grabbed his hand and started running again. The mother’s screams in French guided you through the crowd. You felt your foot hit something before you went flying. Your hands moved out in front of you to stop the fall by instinct and on impact you hissed in pain. You had landed hard on your free hand but was yanked back up just as quickly.

“We have to go.” The man from before whispered in your ear.

“The child needs help.” You whispered back and he didn’t say a word back as he supported you on the remaining distance. The child lay on the ground holding his mother’s hand as she screamed for help. The brown-haired man set you on the floor beside the child and you immediately began ripping your jacket off your arms. You ripped the sleeves off the jacket and used the back to apply pressure to the wound. The single bullet hole was small but on the size of the boy was enough to cause a lot of damage. You quickly felt it become wet with blood and pressed down a little harder as the boy cried out in pain.

“Mon garçon, s'il vous plaît, sauvez mon garçon.”(My boy, Please save my boy) She sobbed as her eyes covered her face. Her hands were covered in his blood and your mind flashed with the memory of your own hands covered in Tommy and Cassandra’s blood. You ignored her cries but that didn’t stop you from helping her. You kept a steady push on his leg to slow the bleeding. After a few checks you eyed the wound and you couldn’t help the feel of triumph that flowed through your heart. The slow of bleeding meant you could check the wound for any other injuries it could have caused. You ripped open his pant leg and wiped the blood away to get a good look at the wound. This wasn’t the first time you’d be a medic and it wouldn’t be the last. Your father had gotten plenty of hunting wounds and you had been the one to take care of them. His leg only held one bullet hole, but his leg was so skinny it could fit in the palm of your hand. Your heart ached that this would be the childhood he remembered and not one filled with days of running in a field with his mother or being in school with his friends. He was one of the lucky ones you had to remind yourself. He was alive and you were determined to keep him that way. Your hands moved with remarkable speed as you lifted the child’s leg and looked for the exit wound of the bullet. A small hole was in the back of his leg and you wiped it clear of blood. You lifted the sleeve from earlier to your teeth and made a big enough tear that you could rip it with your bare hands. The long piece of clothing dangled between your fingertips as you examined the length. From the way the threading looked it wouldn’t hold for long, so you’d have to find a more permanent solution. But that was later and the thin cloth would do good for now.

“How can I help?” The man whispered in your ear again as your mind whirled with adrenaline. Your instincts in healing were helping you move through the steps you’d done so many times before with ease, but you couldn’t help the storm brewing in your feelings. You were enraged, scared, and so many other feelings all at once. You had gotten lost in the moment as you rushed to save the boy that lay before you. People were still running inside, and the screams had begun to slow. The courtyard was filled with sobs of families returning to their loved one’s bodies that lay dead on the floor. The blood on the ground would haunt them for the rest of their lives as the bodies were carried away by the ‘healthy’ prisoners.

“Lift his leg carefully. I need to make a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.” You said softly showing him the places to place his hands. He placed his above and below the wound just as you’d asked and lifted slowly. The boy screamed in pain and the mother began to reach her hands out to stop you. You glared at her, but she ignored your attempts to stop her from distracting you. She was screaming at you in French, begging you to stop hurting her boy. You ignored her cries and curses and continued to work. Her hands were gripping yours now as she tightened them around your wrists, and you struggled to tie the knot.

“Si vous ne retirez pas vos mains, votre fils mourra!” (if you don’t pull your hands away your son will die) you snap back at her in French and her nails stop digging into your skin. She pulls away quickly but doesn’t move her eyes away from your face. You sigh in frustration as you tighten the knot around the boy’s leg. You can hear the boy crying for his maman and she’s trying to calm him but it’s no use. You grab the jacket and place it over the boys wound again and apply pressure. The mother is sobbing as she holds her sons face and you watch knowing that you can only help minimally. You motion for the man to lower his leg softly and he does. He watches you carefully as you wrap the torn jacket around his leg and tie it again in the back. The bleeding has slowed to minimal trickle, but you’ll have to find something to clean the wound to keep away infection. You sigh in relief collapsing on the back of your heels as the woman steps away from her boy and walks over to you. She offers a hand over to you and you stare at it not sure what to do. She smiles weakly and shakes her hand again. You realize she’s trying to get you to stand up and you take it willingly. She helps you stand up and as soon as you’ve got on your feet, she pulls you into a hug.

“You…help…. me Henry.” She whispers in your ear as she pulls away. There’s a new look in her eyes as she apologizes for hurting you in French. She pulls your wrists to her mouth and places small kisses over the crescent moon shaped marks. Her fingers run over them in a silent guilt and you pull away and give her a small smile. Her hand brushes your cheek leaving a trail of blood, but her eyes are locked on yours. She leans in placing a kiss on your cheek before releasing you from her embrace. She quiets quickly once you tell her that it’s alright and that you have something to tell her. You start to give her basic instructions that will keep her son alive. How to clean the wound and tell her the signs of infection. Her hands grip onto her fingers, and her eyes are eager to make sure she doesn’t miss a word. You tell her your cell keep so that if she may ever need your assistance, she can send someone. The man who helped you stands beside you as you give her these instructions nodding as you list off everything. Once you trust that she knows everything you bid her goodbye and tell her to stay safe. She doesn’t respond as she looks away from you down to her son whose hand is out reached for her. She rushes to her knees and grabs his hand and doesn’t give you another glance. You know she won’t leave him alone for a minute. The fear of losing her family wasn’t a good one and it had scarred her heart forever just as it did to you months ago. She would hold on tight to his hands and watch for any signs of sickness. She would not sleep through the night but would tell her boy that she did. She’d do anything to protect her last light in the dark world. Your eyes travel from their joined hands to the boys’ face. It’s pale, most likely from the blood loss but he smiles at you. He opens his mouth to say something, and just as quick as it opens it closes as a grimace of pain flashes over his face. You shake your head giving him a weak smile. You kneel beside his head and place a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead and murmur a good-bye. You give the mother and son a small wave before standing once more and turning on your heel to walk away. Your tail follows you as you make your rounds around the courtyard. People cry out to the two of you as you try your best to help anyone and everyone. Most people have died by the time you reach them, and you close their eyes for the dead to mourn. Some don’t accept that their loved one is dead and continue to scream their fury at your insistence. One man almost attacks you because he refuses to believe his wife was killed and the stranger has to stop him. Tears stream down your cheeks at the sight of each body that lies on the floor. There was so much blood on the court now that it was rare you saw an old patch that was dried. It runs underneath your shoes and covers each piece of cement with ease. It soaks the clothes of the people lying beside their families and friends crying their hearts out to someone who is no longer there. Their pain has become apart of you and you can feel the shock of it numb you by the time you reach the last patient. Your tears have dried up and your hands are covered in so much blood that pieces flake off when the wind blows through the courtyard. You stand beside the teenage girl that holds her arm limp as her companion stands nearby attempting to talk to you in German. You attempt to converse with him in French the only language you’d been able to learn in your months of imprisonment but it’s no use as he doesn’t understand you. The girl cries softly as you touch her arm trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Was ist mit ihr passiert?” (What happened to her?) your partner says in German earning a glance from the boy. He speaks faster now the urgency in his hand motions clear. You can’t help but watch in awe as the man who has been helping this whole time stays remarkably calm. He nods and continues to ask him questions and gives him responses without hesitation. He doesn’t interrupt when it becomes clear that the boy is in full out panic mode. You place your hand on the girls’ shoulder and she flinches away before you give her a small smile. She stared at you with a suspicious glare in her eyes, but you tapped your eyes and then pointed to her shoulder in hopes that she would understand. Her eyes are wide with understanding and she leans in closer to you. You press your fingertip towards the top of her shoulder, and you feel her flinch. Doing this a few more times as you examine her shoulder you realize it doesn’t look like the other. It’s bent at an odd angle and you curse yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Her shoulder is dislocated presumably from being trampled in the panic. I know how to put it back in place, but it’ll be a two person job so I’ll need your help...” you trail off not knowing your assistants name. He glances over his shoulder giving you a smile makes you look down at your hands tat have begun to fidget.

“Call me Bucky.” He winks but you can tell he immediately regrets it because he turns away and starts muttering something under his breath. You catch a small huff of frustration that he cuts off quickly with ‘idiot’ following in English. You chuckle a little and his eyes brighten at your show of emotion towards him. Besides the subtle nudges of worry from before the attack, it was the only one you’d shown. His whole demeanor changed then, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the sudden beam of light. He was trying to hide his ear to ear smile as he shifted in place. You shake your head slightly and notice the two people that had been forgotten for a short moment. The man from before is quiet now as the girl talks to him in a soft voice. You motion Bucky over, and he leans down to your level.

“She needs to lie on her back. I’m going to pull it back into place.” Bucky gives you a single nod and begins talking to her in German. She stares at him in confusion but then as he explains it even more, she begins to nod her head in understanding reaching out to her boyfriend for assistance. He grabs her lifted hand and Bucky grabs her waist. Her boyfriend kneels beside her and the two exchange soft words that you don’t attempt to hear. Yes, there were things worse than what she was going through but what you were about to do wasn’t about to be as painless as she’d think. Besides the love that you could see when they looked at each other felt like you were intruding every time they looked at each other. When both men have settled, they both slowly lay her down onto her back, but your eyes don’t miss the flinch she gives once Bucky goes near her and her partner has stepped away. You slightly nudge Bucky out of the way and lightly grab her arm. You can see the gratitude in her eyes, and she tries to grab your hand most likely to thank you in the only way she knew how. You gave her a small nod and remained silent because somethings were better left unsaid. As you go through the steps you tell Bucky what you’re doing and in turn he translates. She doesn’t take her eyes off her partner the entire way as you begin to move her. Her arm is causing her a lot of pain, so your touches are featherlight. She is squeezing his hand and you take a lot of breaks to offer her some relief. Once her arm is outstretched towards you, you place your foot underneath where her shoulder is. You take a deep breath and without warning pull her arm at the same time as you push into her side. A loud pop sounds from her arm and you immediately stop pulling on her arm and let it sit on your lap. A blood curdling scream leaves her mouth and she begins to sob in pain. You can see her body shake as her free hand covers the tears that stream down her face. The three of you aren’t the only ones that heard her of course and a German soldier runs over to you all and starts yelling commands that you don’t understand. The girls companion starts responding to him much quieter than before most likely being careful with what he says. Even with the man explaining the soldier still has his eyes locked on you with a hatred you’d never seen before. It’s as if the soldier doesn’t care that you helped her and that she’d be better off in pain. You glare right back at him without a second thought before he turns his gaze away. He doesn’t respond to the boy before walking back to his post near the corner a few feet away from you. You let a breath you didn’t know you were holding in as he leaves the four of you alone on the courtyard again. You look down at the blonde girl who lies with her hair matted in blood from the concrete. She looks at you with a blank expression on her face that soon turns into gratitude. It’s not the first you’ve gotten but something about the way she put her trust in you makes your heart jump for joy. She lifts her arm into the air slowly but gives you a thumbs up, which in turn makes you laugh a little. She grins at you as you return her thumbs up right back and she looks away reaching out to her lover. He grabs her hands quickly and helps her to her feet. It’s a slow process as she slowly tries to get a handle on her pain tolerance, but eventually she stands up. She holds onto his hands to balance herself and gave her shoulder a roll. She let out a soft laugh in triumph and glanced over to where you and Bucky stood. Her eyes warm with happiness that would only last in the moment but were well deserved. She directed her eyes to Bucky and gave him a small smile as she spoke to him in German. You took the chance to finally look at the man who’d introduced himself to you. Here he was in the middle of a war willing to trust you and take care of all these people and be your assistant and he didn’t even know your name. You could tell by the hard built of his shoulders and the way his jaw tensed was because he was strong. Not in a physical way but in

a mental was as well. He could be one to give support and be just as willing to take it away. He was strong but not with many walls. He was determined but not without conscious. He was a good man. A handsome one at that you think before turning away and blushing. Here this man was helping you as a translator and you were thinking about how strong and physically built he was. You shake your head biting on your bottom lip to avoid the smile that wants to appear on your face.

“What have I got something on my face?” he jokes placing his bloody hands to his mouth. You shake your head but can’t help the small laugh that leaves your mouth. Even as a good guy who’d helped you save 20 people who were either bleeding or needed something fixing, he was a dork. The couple gives you a wave before walking off the courtyard towards the yelling Germans. It was time to go to your designated area. The cell of which you’d have to stay in until mealtime which would be in about an hour. As if on cue your stomach growls extremely loud and you place a hand over it. Usually you could hold your hunger over with some water, but it didn’t seem like there would be anything clean for a little while. The usual stream that came out of a hose was used to clean the victims’ blood away. You turned towards the hose where it had only on clean spot on the concrete. Today had been horrible and you knew there would be more days just like this to come. You still felt the ache for the people you couldn’t save and how their blood was still on your hands. You looked down at the floor and your eyes connected with the blood that covered your shoes. You felt the sudden urge to rinse it off and clean them with bleach, but you knew they would never truly leave. The stains would wash off physically, but it would stay with you forever and trap you in its horrors.

“Don’t let it scar you more than it already will.” He whispered into your ear. You didn’t have the strength for words as the day’s exhaustion hit you. You felt your knees buckle and Bucky’s arm wrapped around your waist quickly, keeping you up. All the adrenaline was dying out and you could barely keep your eyes open as he attempted to have you walk. You couldn’t though and it made your feet hurt 10 times more. You groaned and forced him to stop for a minute. You were blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out.

“I got you.” He murmured placing an arm under your knees and swooping you into the air. His arms pulled you closer to his chest and you placed a hand on your stomach. You wanted to say thank you, but the words wouldn’t come. You were burnt out of all your energy and your eyes lazily rolled over the man who was walking you across the courtyard. He looked straight ahead, and his gaze sharpened at the people who passed by. It was clear he didn’t trust the people around you. It wasn’t something anyone should ever give out willingly but the thought that he had given you such a fragile thing made your mind whirl with possibilities. You kept staring at him in wonder and you weren’t sure if it was from the lack of food and water, but you felt a sort of friendship growing with Bucky. He made you feel safe and he hadn’t abandoned you as you fell but instead, he’d picked you up. He’d let you work and hadn’t tried to take over either. Your hand gravitated towards his cheek and you held it there. Something about the action felt right and it comforted you. From what you saw it had the same effect on him. He looked down at you with a sincerity in his eyes and a small smile formed on his lips. It warmed your heart that you were able to get that reaction from him after such a long day and you couldn’t stop the smile you returned. He looked up and his gaze sharpened once more but there was something else displayed across his face. It was more lie… astonishment. You turned your head in confusion to see what had made him look such a way and you let out a small gasp. The area around the only source of water wasn’t crowded like it had been when you’d glanced at it. The people had made two lines directly to the water hose. You recognized these people as the ones you’d helped. Men and women who’d lost their loved ones and had found some broken but ready to be helped had stepped aside so that you could get some water.

“No.” you croaked nudging Bucky. You needed them to know you weren’t any special. You weren’t some savior. You’d been able to save them, but you couldn’t save your best friend and her siblings. That their ghosts still haunted you in the depths of the night. You began to squirm in his arms your energy suddenly making its way back into your body. He glanced down at you as you struggled to get down. He lowered your legs and planted them on the floor without a word, but his arm didn’t leave your waist. You were glad because if it weren’t for the support you were sure to fall. You pointed to the hose and Bucky nodded and began walking the two of you towards it. The area was clear as the people watched you from the sides. You could feel your terror rising as you looked to the guards that watched from afar. Your heart was beginning to pound with anxiety. You didn’t want another shoot out. Too many people had died already, and you wouldn’t let any more die. You urged Bucky forward and soon you reached the front to where the boy, Henry stands as his mother washes his wound. He looks up at you and gives you a small wave and begins tapping his mother. She looks up from her action with a look of annoyance, but it vanishes the minute she notices you. Her gaze softens and she smiles urging you forward. You kneeled beside them and murmured a silent hello as Henry proudly held back the torn-up pant leg. He was telling his maman in French about how he would be a strong boy and protect them both from harm. She said nothing but only let a smile and a few laughs through her tough exterior as she let you inspect the wound. There never was a lot of talking in the prison except for the quiet whispers between the terrified families. People weren’t the chatty types when they’d be kidnapped out of their homes and forced away from their families. You shook your head as images of Jews being thrown out into the street and onto a bus in your hometown flashes across your mind. Just like you couldn’t save Ciera and her siblings you couldn’t even save them. But you could save these people. Some part of you hoped that you could help push the everlasting guilt away, but you knew you would always feel that pain. So, you internalized it and turned to the wound on the boys’ leg again. The flesh surrounding the wound looked clean which was already a very good sign. You checked along his leg for any red lines that would travel up. It was a common sign of blood poisoning but seeing as he had none you knew he would be alright for the time being. If there were any of the blood red veins trailing along his pale skin, it would be a sign of infection and with no antibiotics would be the death of him. She pulls the pant leg away from the boy at your request because he dances away from your touch. He giggles because your touch is warm against his cold skin and you smile at her and her boy. Giving her the good news is probably a moment you’ll never forget as she wraps her arm around her son tightly. You can tell from the way she’s beaming at being able to stay with her son for more time means that in some way they’ll get through this together. It makes your heart jump for joy and you can’t help but let the happiness consume you. The mother hands her son to Bucky and he kneels on a rock nearby holding the child. At one point while the mother washes a wound you catch Bucky letting the boy squeeze his cheeks and pull at them every which way. He doesn’t let this stop him from tickling the boy and the sight is so pure that you’re smiling for the rest of the time. More and more patients leave to go towards their cells after you give them direct instructions. They all come to the water and you and the mother wash out their wounds and they walk away. It’s a process that soon you start to do without realizing how many people you’ve helped. Some were far worse than her son with multiple wounds that fill with blood at the touch. It takes a lot to break a person and seeing multiple scrapes and bullet wounds would make anyone sick. After about the 15th person she ran away to throw

up because of the smell of cooking flesh from the sun above. Bucky immediately took her place in helping you clean the wounds. You looked over at the woman in concern but found her son rubbing her back as they sat on the concrete holding each other. You felt for her because this scenario was nothing good or that pleasing to see. Knowing all these people were hurting and that the men who guarded you all watched from afar and refused to help was making you feel 20 shades of green. You wanted to just react at them. To hurt the people who were hurting all these innocents. You despised them and with each wound that began receiving care by your hands the hatred began growing bigger and bigger.

“Neutralize your expression. Showing you’re angry will upset the Nazis even more.” Bucky’s hushed voice interrupted your thoughts. You lift your eyes to meet his as you turn the faucet off and dab at the patient’s jacket to dry his wound. The confusion you felt must have been visible on your face because his eyebrows raise as his head jerks to his right. Your eyes slowly follow the trail to where a German soldier stands with his gun in his hands. His eyes stare directly at your actions as if you were a criminal about to attack.

“They’ve been watching the entire time. Through the cameras in the corners. They have orders to let us be but to shoot if they see anything wrong.” You immediately drop your expression and place a blank look on your face. Bucky’s nod confirms that your expression is fine and you both help the man who’d been stabbed on the right side of his chest. The panic of knowing you were being watched never quite faded so you dived deeper into doing whatever you could for the people’s wounds. He’d been lucky for the knife to not puncture his lung because if that had happened his lungs would have filled with blood and he would end up choking on his own blood. If that had been the case, there would have been nothing for you to do at least long term. You were slowly coming to realize that all those trips spent in the library studying the multiple medical books were coming to work out in your favor. Bucky calls out the information in which you’ve told him to tell the girl who accompanies the man. She nods vigorously before grabbing his hand and helping him walk over to the opening that leads to the cells where you all would be holed up. The prison inside of the prison. How ironic. You call out for the next person to step forward but are met with silence. You look to the previous line to be met with open space.

“Come here.” He urges. He’s kneeling in front of you from where you sit on the high-rise rock. You ignore the outreach of his bloody hand and you walk around him. He sighs as you reach down to the faucet. The cold water greets your fingertips and you don’t move away from it. Bucky taps your shoulder and you turn around to see what he needs. He’s staring at you like you’re the smallest child in the playground and that if you don’t listen, he’ll throw you in time out. He points to his raised knee and you scoff shaking your head.

“Either you do it willingly or I force you.” You shake your head again and he groans throwing his head back in mock pain. You giggle and lean forward to reach the faucet again but you’re swiped off your feet as hands grip your waist tightly. He sits you on his lap and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from falling. You whip your head around to glare at him because you’re certain he’s a mad man and he grins leaning towards the faucet. You let out a squeal and you grip his knees as he shifts back on the rock sitting you square between his legs. You know you look beyond pissed because he avoids your eyes. He’s still grinning though at your reaction as his hands release your waist and reach towards the faucet. You move your hands away quickly and lean forward with him, eager to get the remaining blood off your skin. Bucky turns the faucet to the left and water starts spilling from it. He tuts when your hands almost touch the water and he grabs your wrists. The interaction makes your skin tingle and interlocks your fingers with his. In that moment you feel the firs spread throughout your body. Everywhere he touches you sends a different burn straight to your heart. His chest presses against your back as he washes the blood off both of your hands. When he breathes you can feel it hit your ear and it makes the hair on your skin rise. His hands caress yours as they wash 30 or more people’s blood off. His fingers slide into between yours with ease that you watch in awe as your hands become yours again. Except with his hands on yours you aren’t exactly sure where he begins and where you stop. Funny thing is, you don’t ever want to figure it out. His fingers brush over yours and they move away too soon. Before you can grasp what you’re doing you grab his hands and start the same movements. You slide your fingers against his long ones and watch as they become his just as yours were yours. You hear Bucky’s breathing grow uneven and you look over your shoulder to see what’s wrong. His eyes immediately lock on yours and you can see something that you’d never seen on his face before. You can’t read it, but you know it’s something he tries to hide because his face becomes black once more and his hands move away from yours. You gasp softly at the loss of contact and swallow the complaint that tries to force its way out. The moment has disappeared, and you can feel the slight tinge of embarrassment floating its way through your senses. You wipe your hands on your pants and the sight of you and Bucky’s hands together burns itself into your mind. You know it shouldn’t be there, but your heart holds it close and locks it away for safe keeping.

“You ready?” he whispers. His hand lays on your stomach which does a flop at the sight of it and you nod not sure if you could even get through a full sentence without stuttering. You stand up and take a step away from him. You were trying to get a grasp on your emotions but the only thing you could focus on was how his scent no longer surrounded you. Your legs wobble as you try to walk but your knees give out. Bucky grabs your hand and pulls it around his neck.

“I don’t think I can walk.” You whisper. He doesn’t respond at first but you can tell he’s debating what to do.

“Hop on my back. I’ll carry you.” You nod slowly as you walk behind him and grab onto his shoulders. His hands wrap around your thighs and he pushes you up in the air. You jump and let your legs fall around his waist and let your arms hang loose over his shoulders. His figure shakes a little as he tries to steady you and start his long walk towards the open steel doors. You place your chin on his shoulder and let out a small sigh.

“My knight in shining armor.” You tease half heartedly and he laughs. The sound warms your bones more than anything else could and you don’t catch the small smile that spreads across his face as he starts walking towards the yelling Germans. It’s time for everyone to go back to their cells and if told once more there would be consequences. Your arms become heavy and feel like blobs of jello as they swing. You can feel yourself absentmindly snuggling into the warmth of the man carrying you, but it doesn’t register as your senses begin shutting down. You blink a few times as you stared down at the dog tags that swung on top of the green Henley that adorned Bucky’s chest. The faint sunlight disappears as he enters the prisoner compound and the room becomes dark. You lift your head up as shouts erupt around you. You catch people clapping and you have the urge to tell them to stop. Drawing attention of the soldiers wasn’t a good idea because they had just witnessed what happens when you cause a ruckus. You bury your head back into Bucky’s neck as you silently wish for the cries of joy to stop. Despite all the good you’d done you still couldn’t get over all the good you could have done so many years ago. Bucky senses your discomfort and starts to walk a little faster than before.

“Get some rest. You look like you could use it.” He says softly as a metal door creaks and it gets held open for the two of you. You nod slowly feeling your eyes shut again. You listen to him this time and let the exhaustion finally take over your body.

Tagging some peeps~@randomfangirl82 @stucky-my-ship @jules-1999 @starkssnarks @dallaswinstonswife1109@notsosecretspy @kyn-lyn-blog @alltoowell-taylorsversion@creecree-4-life

[halo-charlie]

This was supposed to be a short post about what I thought would happen if Dream attempted to rekindle his friendships, but then thoughts happened and... I accidentally made a whole AU in my head.

enjoy!

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Dream said that he was planning on going far away and living out in the uncharted territory of the SMP due to most people wanting him dead at the moment. He doesn’t wanna go alone- he’s never had to live alone before. So, of course after the ash settles, he goes to Sapnap, stance apologetic. unarmed. Sapnap is a closed door, though, and frankly has to use every ounce of self control not to put an arrow between Dream’s eyes for even attempting to convince him to go out there and live like Dream hadn’t done awful things.

Dream half expected this response though. once Sapnap had broken free from the threads of control that dream had him wrapped around he was forever aware that Dream was manipulative. Sapnap was too intrepid to go back to Dream, had too much pride to give into the memories of chasing and playing and fighting alongside each other.

Dream knew Sapnap would do this. He just had to try.

However, George was always an enigma in the ways that dream would never know what he was motivated by. George wasn’t like Dream or Sapnap in that way - not willing to scream out emotions and motives blindly in battle. He was a brand of calculated and reserved. so, by this logic, Dream visited George next.

There was still rubble on the path leading to George’s home in the mountain from when it had been destroyed and rebuilt by the former king himself. Dream didn’t even know if George currently resided in El Rapids or not - but after seeing embers from torches floating through the windows, a pit settled in his stomach. It felt like butterflies, but had the sting of wasps. He stood stiffly on the doorstep, fighting back a shiver from the night’s cold.

George had every right to leave him out here all night, and to wordlessly stride past him in the morning and not even acknowledge him, only interaction between the two being George’s radiating distaste. Hatred.

But of course, the door opened and warmth seeped into Dream’s skin, not as violently as the cold. Sure enough, before him stood one of the people who helped to build the foundation of this world. The person he held closer, protected more valiantly, and had the hardest time pushing away.

George didn’t look physically different. However, his aura was guarded, which Dream never had to experience before. When they were alone together before, they both broke down walls that had been constructed so carefully to protect them from the judgement of strangers.

George held a sword in one hand, held at his side. Not wielded, but at the ready. And that struck Dream in a way he had never expected. Hurt melted his civility, and his stance softened.

“George.” it was pleading, quiet. Like they were surrounded by crowds instead of hills and meadows.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Dream let out a shaky breath. “I have to talk to you.” This was a whole different person than the one who had disposed of an entire nation the day previous. This was dream. This was the same person who had built the community house. Who stopped bickering between Sapnap and George with a fondness that couldn’t be matched.

George huffed a mocking, empty laugh. “Talk to me? Are you sure you’re not here to kill me? That’s normally the next step after betraying your best friends and becoming some crazed psychopath.”

Dream winced, the words hitting like shards of glass. This was George’s defence mode: cover the emotion with sarcasm and insults so that they hit a home run to the person’s heart.

“Please, George, let me come in. I won’t be long.” Dream hoped the gentle tone would be enough to infect George’s most recent memories of him, which had been him at his most violent. He hoped it would take George back to the days where they would daze in the fields next to the closest village.

Apparently it worked, because George pushed the door open wider, allowing space for Dream to enter the cottage. An opportunity, a chance. this was already further than dream had gotten with Sapnap.

Dream shifted awkwardly, unsure whether to sit or not. He noted how George kept the sword by him, disappearing into another room and appearing with a bundle of sticks, adding them to the fire in the corner of the space.

“Sit. I’m still brewing, but I can listen.” George told him, and Dream perked up a bit.

“Brewing? What for?” He knew George wouldn’t be brewing potions to use in a battle, so the curiosity got the best of him.

“Health potions. Turns out, it’s hard to control who an explosion hurts.” The venom was intertwined in his words, and George held up his hands and forearms to show Dream several burns and scars. Dream had assumed the dried blood on George’s shirt was Sapnap’s, and that already hurt him enough. Now seeing it was George’s, it cut a bit deeper. George’s face held no trace of any emotion, and at that moment Dream just wished George would start shouting at him, screaming, hitting him. Anything would be better than him staring at him with that vacant expression, devoid of- anything.

That was one thing that Dream had never seen George do- lose his composure. He was silently begging for him to do it now.

“George...” he began, searching for an apology in his words as guilt enveloped him. “I told you to stay away. You knew it was happening.”

George did another one of those empty laughs, turning back to the stand which held the glass bottles of water. “Unlike you, Dream, I wasn’t going to leave Sapnap to go out there and lose his life.”

Dream’s memory flickered back to the day before, when he had watched Sapnap swing furiously at Technoblade from the grid of obsidian above. Out of everyone fighting, Sapnap had come the closest to giving them a conclusion. However, at one point when Sapnap had taken one too many arrows, George had to drag him to cover from the blast. Dream had specifically instructed Techno to avoid them, spare them if it came to it. So when Techno approached an unconscious Sapnap being patched up by George with his back turned, Dream fired a warning shot. The flaming arrow from the sky was enough to make Techno look up, and Dream narrowed his eyes. Techno took the hint, briskly moving on to fight the next person.

Dream blinked away the hazy memory, focusing his gaze back onto his friend. He swallowed thickly, “Sapnap has no interest in talking to me.”

“And what makes you think I do?” George questioned as he measured out a handful of nether wart before adding it to the top of the stand.


“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

George gave him a look. “I know you would have stayed out there all night. You’re just the type of person to be that stubborn.”

Dream didn’t confirm nor deny, though they both already knew George was right. “It’s not safe for me here right now,” Dream continued, watching George light a spark to the golden powder. George dropped the metal utensil he was using to measure onto the counter, it landing with a frustrated clatter.

“Then why are you here?”

His tone was cutting.

Dream moved in his chair so that he was facing George more, gaze remaining gentle and voice quiet. “For you.”

George let out a sigh to himself, trying to mask it as bitter, but the shakiness of it revealed everything. He made his way across the room and sat opposite Dream. He tried to keep his stare and body language closed off. “You made a mistake coming here then. These walls may have burned before, but you lit the final match when you turned on us. There is nothing left for you here anymore.”

Dream knew that ‘here’ wasn’t just talking about this home. The home he had went to seeking safety and warmth, and that he was always given. The home he visited and was greeted with arms wrapping around him, which felt so much more protective than the embrace of armour, cool metal against his skin. Everything that he had given away was now just hitting him. Everyone he had turned against him due to his actions. “You would have died as king.” He murmured.

“You don’t know that.”

“The possibility was enough to convince me.”

“What are you looking for, Dream?”

His breath hitched in his throat at the question. How come it was so much easier to ask Sapnap? He pushed away the thought for now. “I want you to come with me.”

The silence rushed back in waves, and George stood up, returning to the counter with his brewing stand. Dream could only watch his meticulous movements. George was always in his element with this type of thing. His hands weren’t made to hold blades. They were made to construct, to heal, to love. Dream held his hands out in front of himself which he had unknowingly clenched. They were rough and callous, perfectly crafted for the hilt of a sword. To hurt. He retracted his hands back to arms of the chair.

“Come with you.” George repeated, and Dream nodded in confirmation. “You want me to leave my friends to go with the person who caused mass destruction over, what, plastic? You took my position from me.”

Dream stood. “George, I gave you the position without knowing the danger that it put you in.”

“You were my knight. You were supposed to get rid of the danger.”

“And I tried to do that, but I couldn’t always be there when I also had to monitor L’Manberg. I took the kingship away to prote-“

“Protect me, Dream? Really?” George turned to face Dream. “You know, you were right about one thing. I never cared about being king. I didn’t even care when you took it away. It was never about me being king, Dream. We both know that. You hurt us. You said yourself that you never cared about u-“

“I didn’t mean it.”

George narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. You know I hate that. You only care about those stupid fucking discs. So don’t even try to lie about wanting to protect me. You used Sapnap and I to make you look more powerful. It’s always about power for you!” He exclaimed, exasperation and anger now fueling his words.

Dream took a step towards George. “George, you were already helping Quackity with Mexican L’Manberg, which in itself was creating conflicts! It went directly against the reason I crowned you as king!”

“Whatever, Dream. The answer is no.” George approached Dream, now only a few feet of space between them. “Did you hear that? I’m sure you’re shocked. My answer is no. I’m not going with you. Now, get out of my house.”

And just as George was about to turn, a gloved hand grabbed his wrist, and he turned back to Dream who’s expression was now blank. The mask helped to cover his trembling features. “I didn’t want to do this. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again,” Dream began, his voice already regretful.

George attempted to pull his hand from the vice grip with no luck, fear now clouding his thoughts. “Dream? Dream- let go. What are you talking about?” The bite that was previously in his words had left.

Dream revealed nothing. “I’m sorry, George.”

“What? Dream, stop, you’re scaring m-“ He was cut off as Dream brought his hand up and rest two fingertips on George’s forehead, and immediately his vision started to haze.

“Wait, no! Dream, not this again, please. I’ll go with you! We can go far away from here!” George pleaded, but he could already feel his free will being twisted. Dream weakly shook his head. “I’m only doing the best for you, George. This way I can protect you.”

Anger now replaced George’s fear as his body went limp. “You’re a cheater. We aren’t NPCs, Dream.” He seethed.

“Shh, just go to sleep. It’ll be over soon. You’ll wake up and realise you’re supposed to come with me.” Dream steadied George and slowly lowered him to the floor. George couldn’t fight the unconsciousness that was taking over him. “I’ll f-find out… and stop y-you…” Those were the last words George said before he fell into a sleep, and Dream shifted him slightly.

Dream got to his feet, staring down at his unconscious friend. The guilt wasn’t strong enough to stop him.

They would leave in the morning.

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> 2114 words

[leossmoonn]

chemistry part thirteen

part twelve | part fourteen | masterlist

zuko x fem!reader

avatar: the last airbender

includes - you, zuko, suki, katara, toph, sokka, and aang

special appearances by - iroh, azula, and appa

warnings - mild language , makeout scene

you put your phone in your purse, getting up to go to the bathroom. you washed your hands and looked at your makeup and outfit for the 100th time.

your makeup was pretty minimal. well, it looked minimal. you did a very natural look with winged eyeliner and a red lip. since it was cold and zuko had told you to dress warm, you had wrapped up in warm, but cute clothes.

you had put on solid black jeans, a black belt, a red turtleneck sweater, a red scarf, and a coat. you had paired the outfit with black, one-inch heeled boots and curled hair. you were wearing a gold necklace that katara had given you a long time ago, and the charm bracelet that zuko had given you yesterday.

you hoped he liked your outfit. you’d never been on a real date before that didn’t consist of friends being with you. you were nervous, to say the least.

a knock sounded at the door, making your heart race and palms sweat.

“time to shine,” you muttered to yourself as you walked to the door.

you swung the door open, smiling once you met zuko’s smiling face. you took a look over his own outfit.

he was wearing jeans, a dark-blue sweater, a black coat, and black boots. you noticed silver rings on every other finger on his hands, and a silver chain around his neck. they made him ten times more attractive. his hair was fluffy and looked soft, going down past his eyes, covering up most of his scar.

“you look beautiful,” were the first words he spoke to you.

a light blush arised on the tip of your ears and cheekbones. you put your head down, smiling shyly. “thank you. you look really handsome.”

zuko smiled brightly at you, thinking how cute you were when you got shy. “thank you. are you ready to go?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to take.

you looked up at him, a big smile sitting in your red lip. “yep,” you said and took his hand.

goosebumps ran up your arm at the skin contact. you felt all warm and tingly. a feeling you only felt when you were with him.

you closed the door, locking it and heading out to his car. you got in the passenger’s seat, sighing happily as you and zuko made eye contact once again. you couldn’t help but get lost in his ember eyes, they were so pretty.

“so, where are you going?” you asked.

“um, somewhere not warm,” zuko answered, starting the car.

“hm, gonna keep it a secret from me? this isn’t a good way to start a relationship,” you joked.

zuko chuckled, “i think you’ll like it.”

“me, too,” you smiled.

as he drove, you two talked about the rest of your plans for christmas break. you were planning on heading back up to see your parents for the rest of the break, and he was planning on having a new year’s party with his family. he had invited you, to which you had happily accepted.

“you sure it won’t interfere with your family plans?” zuko asked.

“nope. i usually come back here a day before new year’s eve because the girls and i also plan a party,” you reassured him.

“ah, i see. well, good. are you girls still planning a party?” zuko asked.

“hm, probably not. and if they do, they’ll just have to have to without me because i’ll be at a much cooler party,” you chuckled.

“yes, you will,” zuko smiled.

you hummed, your hand making its way to his subconsciously. his hand was on the gear shift, per usual. you set your hand on his, liking the warmth that he provided.

zuko smiled at your gesture, happy that you two have grown close and were comfortable enough with each other to do those types of things. he loved feeling your skin on his. whether it was with hand-holding, cuddling, or kissing - which you two hadn’t done yet, but he had thought about it many times.

he drove for another 10 minutes, finally arriving at the date place.

“you brought me to a dark parking lot?” you chuckled.

zuko sighed, “yeah, i know i look sketchy right now, but i promise you’re safe.”

you smiled, “i know, don’t worry. i feel most safe with you, anyways.”

those words made zuko’s heart flutter. every guy liked hearing that they made a girl feel safe, especially when it was a girl who the guy had been crushing on hard for almost 3 months, which was you for him.

“i’m glad,” zuko said and got out of the car. you followed in his suit, seeing him go to the trunk of his car. he pulled out a small picnic basket.

“a picnic in december?” you asked.

zuko shrugged sheepishly, “aang said this was a cute idea. plus, we aren’t staying here.”

“alright. well, lead the way,” you smiled.

he nodded and slid his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. you walked close to him, puting your head on his shoulder. you were grateful he radiated heat, otherwise you would be freezing.

you two stopped in front of a bunch of trees. zuko turned to you.

“close your eyes for me, okay?” he asked.

you nodded shutting your eyes tight. zuko put his arms around you, your body stiffening from his touch, but almost immediately relaxing. zuko walked you forward slowly. you were nervous, but extremely excited. you couldn’t wait for what zuko had planned.

“alright, open your eyes,” zuko said softly.

you opened your eyes slowly, the cold air hitting them immediately. your jaw fell as you saw a beautiful scene in front of you.

zuko had taken you to a light show. it was in a part of the city where they would put up all types of christmas lights in the shape of a tree, abominable snowman, snow, stars, snowmen, children ice skating, etc. you remembered your parents would take you here when you were a little girl and drive around so you could see the lights. it was one of the most fondest memories you had of your childhood, and now, you were spending it with the greatest guy on earth.

“do you like it?” zuko asked.

you looked at him, smiling. “i love it. how did you know about this place?”

“aang told me you loved this place as a kid, and that you hadn’t been to it in a while. i thought it would be nice to take you here for our first date,” zuko said.

“i love it, thank you. this is such a cute date idea. you are perfect,” you said.

“thank you. let’s sit at the gazebo,” zuko said, pointing to the building across from you. you nodded excitedly, taking his hand in yours and running to it.

once you got to the gazebo, zuko set out the picnic blanket that he folded into the basket. he got the food he prepared, too. he had made noodles, egg tarts, jasmine tea, moon cakes, and roasted turtleduck.

“hm, smells so good. you made all this?” you asked, sitting down.

“yep,” zuko smiled proudly.

“wow, he’s romantic and cooks. what more can a girl want?” you teased

“i know,” zuko chuckled. “my mom and grandpa taught me how to cook.”

“that’s really cool. i can’t cook for shit. i swear, i always end up burning everything,” you laughed, cutting yourself a peice of the duck.

“i can teach you,” zuko suggested.

your mind immediately went to a cute, very romantic date where he would teach you two how to cook, then after when you got to desert, you two would go back into your bedroom.

“that sounds very fun,” you smiled.

“i think so, too,” zuko smiled, taking a sip of tea.

you two talked while eating. after you finished, zuko and you had decded to lay down and admire the lights.

you had cuddled into zuko’s side, his arm around you, holding you close. your head was on his chest, tucked under his chin. your legs were intertwined with his, too. you sighed contently, you couldn’t remember a time where you had felt this happy.

zuko looked down at you with a love-filled look. he pulled you to him impossibly closer. he couldn’t believe you were with him in this moment. after mai, he wasn’t sure he would really like or trust anyone else. but you made it easy. you were kind, funny, so sweet and smart. you didn’t try to act tough like mai, and you definitely were not afraid of showing your feelings. you also had good intentions. you were the perfect girl for him.

“thank you for taking me out tonight. i’ve had lots of fun,” you said, sitting up and looking into his eyes.

“me, too. i’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while,” zuko said.

“well, i’m glad it happened when it did,” you smiled.

“me, too,” zuko said.

you looked at his face, not being able to stop yourself from staring down at his lips. he noticed this and put his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb slowly along your skin. his rings felt cold, but good against your face. his eyes traveled down to your lips as well, going back up to your eyes for permission. you looked back up to his eyes, leaning forward.

you weren’t sure what was happening. well, you did, but your heart was racing a mile a minute. the way his thumb was rubbing against your skin had your stomach knot up. the fact that there was barely any space between you and him made your mind a little foggy, and made you figet with your thighs.

“i’ve never kissed anyone before,” you said breathlessly.

“just go with your instinct,” zuko said, his other hand finding your waist, squeezing reassuringly.

you nodded, leaning in more. before you knew it, you two were kissing. you two took it slow, savoring the feeling. his lips were soft and very good at kissing. the way they moved with your’s, the fact that his lips fit perfectly with your’s, put butterflies in your stomach. you couldn’t think of another perfect moment.

for someone who hadn’t kissed anyone before, zuko thought you were amazing. your lips moved with his expertly, making him imagine fireworks shooting off in his brain. his hand on your waist pulled you impossibly closer, wanting to feel you right against him. you took the hint and swung your leg around his waist, climbing on top of him without breaking the kiss. your hands wrapped themsleves in his hair, pulling slightly.

zuko ran his tongue on your bottom lip. you opened your mouth almost immediately, taking in a shallow breath of air. your tongues clashed, you quietly moaning in response. zuko’s grip on your waist got tighter as you two fought for dominance while kissing.

it wasn’t too long before you had to pull away for hair. once you two did, big smiles rested on your faces. zuko admired the way you looked in the dim light. you hair was slightly messy from laying down and running your fingers through it. your cheeks were flushed and lips wet and a little swollen from kissing him. your lipstick was also smudged slightly.

“that was um... amazing,” you panted.

zuko took a deep breath, his going up to your hands. he intertwined each of your fingers together.

“wanna do it again?” he asked.

you giggled and leaned down, “definitely.”

————

note - hope you guys read and enjoy this as new parts are added! if you wanna be on the taglist, message me and/or reply to this post :))

taglist - @sorrythatspussynal @theblueslytherin @charlenasaxen @akiris @the-paintedlady @thatarthistorynerd @freckled-and-daydreaming @fi-chanwrites

[juliettalfacharlie]

just remembered some of the lingering-linzin ideas i had years ago. the scraps have since been deleted from my drafts but the premises were as follows-

(put below a cut bc it's a lot longer than i anticipated, rated t for sexual content)

1. meelo had just found out that tenzin had dated lin, and he's talking with ikki near the training grounds. he's going through mocked earth forms and exasperatedly, he says, "i wish lin had been my mom, because then i'd be a metalbender. that would be so cool!" and he didnt mean anything by it, but jinora quickly scolds him. tenzin's speechless, stumbling through his signature Generic Response of "oh, uh, well-" before changing the topic all together.

2. tenzin definitely liked photography, especially in his youth. he has a collection of high end film cameras, and in his rarely-used shoebox office he had a pinboard collage of instant photos. when he moves out of the office a decade after they'd broken up, he finds a stack of developed photos inside a box, pushed to the back of the lowest drawer. intrigued, as the rest of his photos were sorted and preserved at the island, he thumbs through the first few. the top one's of lin's first house- she'd moved out at nineteen, renting a small abode halfway across the city. the next is a candid, with lin sitting on the front porch. her eyes were closed and the morning sun lit her face, then unmarred, and he remembered that moment vividly. it was disorienting, recalling how his younger self had begun falling for her then, when their current relationship was stilted and cold.

the ones following were obviously handpicked, as was the whole lot, presumably, and followed a progression of his adult friendship with lin. she'd been his favourite subject; yes, he'd been attracted to her for years, but she also held herself with a natural grace. her angular features and expressive eyes made her an intriguing model, and he always received praise from other photographers who viewed those portraits.

he hadnt meant to view every one, but he found he was unable to stop. he definitely didnt retain romantic feelings, but their relationship had been so deeply emotional, and he dearly missed that. lin had always been comfortable around him, and that sudden loss when they broke up was shattering.

there was a noticeable gap in the portraits of lin, and he felt a pang remembering why. she'd felt extremely self-conscious of her scars, hating when tenzin took pictures. the few he had during that time were entirely outside of lin's knowledge, hastily composed and sometimes a bit blurry. he was glad to pass through them and witness her resurgent confidence.

he had unconsciously sat back in his chair, making himself comfortable as he plucked through the stack of photos. their relationship unfolded once again before his eyes. he missed that unguarded happiness they both felt, before her job weighed heavily and aang had died.

three quarters through the photos, tenzin paused, finally remembering why this collection had remained in his office. in the bedroom of lin's third house, she sat on the bed, back to the camera as she glanced out the window. horizontal rays shone through the blinds, her bare skin glowing.

she was nude, though nothing scandalous was shown. tenzin's thumb brushed over the image of a long scar across lin's shoulder. at the time, it had been her worst, and it had absolutely terrified tenzin. after an earthquake she'd spent dawn to dusk pulling survivors and bodies from collapsed buildings. the foundation of one housing complex crumbled with her inside, crushing her armour and her ribs.

just a month ago, lin had crashed on her satocycle during a chase. by instinct and honest luck, she'd been able to right herself so she skidded on her armour, coming out with only bruises and road rash. she'd once again grown close to katara, bumi, and even kya, but tenzin had found out a day later in the newspaper.

his gaze studied the image, noting the small hints of his presence. a soft t-shirt lin had stolen was sliding off the end of the bed, his underwear beside it.

tenzin flipped to the next picture. lin had half turned around, frozen mid-quip with a smirk on her face. her beautiful hair was tangled and messy, lamplight glinting in her eyes.

the following six made his face flare red, as he's sure it also did back then. lin had done a full about-face, embracing her nudity (and tenzin's embarrassment.)

he flipped through those quickly, finding one of him immediately following. lin liked to take photos of him, sometimes, and she had a natural eye for composition, likely from her own artistic skill. tenzin sat propped against the headboard, skin flushed and beaded with sweat. he looked directly at the camera with wonder, eyes fully dilated. the series of ten photos showed the progression of lin's hand tracing up his chest, over dark hickeys on his neck and the edge of his jaw. she would have been sitting in his lap to take the shots.

that day seemed to open the floodgates for explicit photoshoots, and after accidentally glancing at a few he straightened all the images and returned them to the box, in the same order as before.

the house facade stared back at him for a number of moments before he finally returned the protective lid. he took a deep breath, running a hand over his face. the stirred emotions made his longing for her grow, and he knew he'd once again try and reach out.

tenzin took a few minutes to process before he stood, continuing his packing. he carefully nestled the box among his books, fingers brushing the top once before he turned, continuing to empty the desk.

[7wanderingpaws]

Summer Rain ☔

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: one shot, university AU, fluff

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: none

A/N: This was soo unplanned!! But my mind is full of ideas recently! The moodboard is my first ever so apologies; it isn’t as aesthetically pleasing, but I still had fun :((( if you could let me know what you thought... I’d  be glad! 😊

.

There was a laugh that resonated the space in the university park. It was a bright summer day, making you feel pleasant since the recent storms cleaned up the air and brought in cool breezes. 

You were humming a song to yourself and an instant smile spread over your face when you heard that contagious smile. Not even looking up to know whom it was coming from, you continued drawing, his image vivid in front of your eyes even though you weren’t seeing any of him in that instant. Your left leg was folded under your backside while the other one was dangling from the bench, enjoying the freedom and the gentle breeze.

Another round of that same laughter came to you and this time you looked up, your gaze focusing on his face.

He was sitting opposite you, thankfully. You arrived to the place before him and his friends, and as much as you suppressed the gnawing thoughts, you felt like it was a beautiful fate that he sat across you so you could have a proper view while you were drawing exactly him. Right now, his eyes were almost invisible given how wide of a smile was plastered on his face before he chucked down a bottle of water he kept slurping from the entire time. He listened to what his friend had to say before starting to giggle again.

You sighed blissfully, slowly averting your gaze back to the little drawing you had going on. It had been weeks since you started working on this comic book, drawing all your desires down. Desires and images you had with him. As much as it could have been creepy, you liked to imagine him in different universes. If he wouldn’t be a university student, what would have become of him? Or he had been one but he liked to smoke and not smile too much, his reserved posture still a charming point. You imagined him in various clothing that wouldn’t  be scandalous, but the lines you sketched with your pencil would be able to give the image a sensual feeling, your heart fluttering just at the thought of him dressing that way.

But the most common sketch you almost always ended up drawing unconsciously was him smiling down at you, holding sunflowers out for you to take. His long hair would fall into his warm eyes and the sun kissing his skin would turn it into gold. And just like that, it would end up with another sketch where you kiss him. Because that was the only way you were willing to have the story end. Kissing. Both of you smiling.

But you didn’t know him. You never talked to him. And his smiles were basically for free, given how he would smile at anyone who met his eyes even for a split second. A walking sunshine, indeed.

And just like that you were crying.

A drop fell onto your sketch, exactly on his smiling face as he was looking at you.

Except, it weren’t your tears for once.

“Guys, let’s go! It’s raining!” you heard his friends shout, grabbing all their belongings they had sprawled out on the table.

The crowded park suddenly moved. Everyone was rushing into the surrounding buldings as the rain intesified, while you took the time to collect all your sutff, trying to avoid the rain drops ruining all your artwork.

The weather not hinting it would suddenly let rain fall, you didn’t come prepared, umbrella dutifully stored in the corner of your apartment. Reaching for the last sketch, another hand, quite feminine, appeared in the line of your vision, grabbing it and handing it to you. Murmuring a thanks, you barely got to look up while you zipped up your backpack before you heard a voice.

“Come quickly, you don’t want to get drenched,” said... Baekhyun.

Snapping your widened eyes up at him, you froze, not understanding what was he doing in front of you, his jacket above his head as a shield as he motioned his hand at you to hurry you. Without waiting for your answer, he stepped next to you and widened his right arm so that you were under his jacket too, before he said: “Run!”

And well. When people tell you to run, you run. And so you did, the backpack now on your back. The rain was so heavy, puddles were already reflecting him and you when you stepped into them, splotching the dirty water to every direction. You giggled happily and you heard his breathy laugh, too. Daring to look up, you saw his profile that you so well studied for all those weeks, trying to get each and every curve, spot, scar of his face correctly. Even though you really were good at your craft, no one could give justice to his face, not even your steady, skilled hand.

“Which building?” he shouted over the rain, looking down at you, to catch you stare. He gave you a genuine smile as he slowed down a bit and only then you heard yourself panting.

“Art building,” you replied, not dropping the eye contact. He nodded before he turned to the left.

Thankfully for you, art building was further away from the university park. At least five-seven minutes of walking. You knew you had some little time with him for now.

“So an art student, huh?” he asked. “I saw your drawings. They are amazing.”

Your heart stopped beating for a split second. The drawings of him. Was he able to recognize himself?

You blushed, biting your lip as you stared on the pavement trying not to step into another huge puddle, although your white sneakers had been already drenched. “There are better people out there.”

“But you have a very distinct style,” he stated and when you looked at him again, his smile was even wider. “Like, really, really cool one. And, I don’t think I have met you before,” he added nonchalantly.

Smooth talker. But your heart was still beating hard and fast. “Eh, yeah, I am not the most known person on this campus.”

“Neither am I.”

You scoffed gently and he gave you a curious gaze. “If you say so. But,” you stopped for a second, quickly contemplating whether what you were about to say would ruin your conversation or not. “I defintely met you before. Well, saw you.”

You might as well admit your crush on him.

He was genuinely surprised at your words. “Really? I am so sorry, I usally don’t pay attention...”

“No,” you quickly said, shaking your head gently, “it is all fine. Anyway,” you said and told him your name, smiling at him brightly. At your name, his eyes sparkled and murmured: “I’m Baekhyun.”

“Nice to meet you.” Finally.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, sending you a playful wink.

You giggled again, looking ahead of you, just to spot the art building. Not very happy about it, you stole another glance at the male next to you and when he felt your gaze, he turned his head with a lopsided grin.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice light.

“What is your major?”

“Singing and performing.” He shook his head to get his long hair out of his eyes. “But I am also very intrested in music production and such.”

You knew it. You knew it all. His major - it could be easily figured out, and your crazy high school-like crush on him made you sniff out information quite easily. The latter information though, you overheard in the cafeteria when, yet during another fateful meeting, he sat opposite you at the table in front of you, and spoke with passion about creating music.

You still feigned surprise. “So art building is your main place for lectures, too! I am a bit offended you never paid me any attention,” you acted.

Baekhyun laughed but you felt it wasn’t completely honest. He was sorry. “Hey, no, no, I am just so ignorant towards my surroundings sometimes,” he spoke gently. “You have no idea how mad I am right now that I missed a chance to talk to someone like you.”

You almost stopped walking, redness and heat giving away your emotions to him. Was this a dream? “Well, we can always just do that. Start talking,” you smiled genuinely.

He hummed. “That we should do.”

Climbing up the stairs that led to the main entrance, you stopped once safely under the roof, turning to stare at the huge downpour. If Baekhyun wouldn’t be next to you right now, you would have closed your eyes and imagine him next to you. Just how lovely was it you didn’t have to imagine and dream?

“So,” he said sheepishly as he turned to you, his jacket drenched and leaving a small puddle on the concrete where he was standing. He observed your red cheeks and your curled up hair from the humidity and suddenly forgot the question he was planning to ask you. You blinked rapidly at him, which snapped him out of his reverie, because damn, that was cute. “Eh, would you like to show me your drawings? And then,” he hesitated, his hair falling into his eyes again. Your hand itched. “We could grab a coffee if... the game would be still on for you.”

If the game would be still on for you, he had said. Leaving those words up to your forever colourful imagination, you nodded, somehow not shy to show him the sketches of... him. The on-going comics would be considered too, but you would have to see.

Sitting in the common area, you took out your sketchbooks, some having donkey ears because you used them so much. A shiver ran down your spine when he sat close to you, his knee almost knocking into yours.

Catching the goosebumps on your forearm, he was quick to shrug off his shirt that he wore over his white t-shirt. Before you could protest, he stood up and put it gently on your shoulders from behind, making sure the skin was covered well. Smiling to yourself, you thanked him as he sat back down, an intense emotion in his eyes as he nodded in acknowledgement.

One deep breath, and you slowly opened up the sketchbooks. He was still watching you, though, the sharp light of the common room highlighting features a daylight wouldn’t do.

“This is,” you started and caught his gaze on you, but you didn’t let that discourage you. If anything, you were more than sure of this. “This is all my recent work that I take pride in. So be kind,” you added, raising your index finger to warn him.

Baekhyun chuckled at your antics when he caught your index finger and gently shook it, letting it go. “Okay, okay, calm down, tiger.”

Laughing, you tucked your hair behind your eyes, observing him observing your work. He was studying each piece with interest, humming in approval, dragging his fingers over the surface, over your signature. “The details are almost perfect,” he muttered and after a second he raised his eyes to meet yours.

“Yeah, almost,” you agreed, shrugging. “Nothing is perfect in this world, Baekhyun.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and smirking, he reached a palm out to you. “A pencil, dream girl.”

Staying still and staring, it took you a moment to break his eye contact. His encouraging smile made you move finally, taking out your pencil case you doodled various versions of banana milk on, and placed your favourite pencil into his awaiting palm. “Here.”

Baekhyun didn’t wait, as he grabbed one of the sketches of him. “Almost perfect... Why almost, when it could be just perfect?” he murmured, leaning in close, the pencil’s sharp point hovering above the drawn lips. He moved it just above the right side, and placed a small dot.

Your mouth was hanging open by then when realisation hit you.

And all your racing thoughts were confirmed when he looked back up at you and leaned in close, pointing to a mole just above his lip. Just where he drew the dot on the lip on your sketch. “You missed the part with the biggest sexappeal, cutie.”

Still not giving in, you frowned. “No more dream girl?”

“I don’t think it would suit you anymore,” he said, tapping his chin. “Since you might change from a dream girl to...?”

“Baekhyun-”

“If I only knew you had a crush on me,” not letting you finish, he laughed softly, shaking his head as he let it hung for a moment before looking up at you. “You are gorgeous inside and out.” He paused and let his eyes wonder over your facial features. “Would you still want to grab a coffee with me? Is the game still on?” he muttered, his voice almost intimate.

“Yeah,” you breathed eagerly and you wanted to scream and shout from happiness. “Yes.”

He giggled and leaned in, still grinning, making you squeal from the proximity. “Baekhyun!”

He laughed. “Sorry! I wish I had the sunflowers that you drew... Thought I could at least smile at you like that. Just like you dreamt.”

You were red like a tomato, sweating and bothered. Was this really happening? Since when was he like this? And did this mean he liked you?

“And the kiss,” he teased. “Can be the next step.”

🎉🎊🎀

CuriousCat Ask box is also open! Or comments!💕

[lo-55]

Playing With Fire Ch. 2

What Do You Know?

@emrysaf

When dawn breaks through the window and assaults your eyes you take a few long minutes to relish the feeling of obliviousness. 

If you lay here for long enough and pretend hard enough that yesterday never happened maybe you can open your eyes to your own living room, or even a hospital room where they’ll tell you you took too many Benadryl and hallucinated everything. 

Eventually you have to open your eyes and look to the ceiling. 

You really don’t wanna do this, but here you are. Doing this. 

You really, really wanna open your eyes and find yourself home, with the storm blown over and your life back to normal. You wanna call your parents, who you never knew you could miss quite this bad. 

You can’t do any of these things. 

All you can do is open your eyes and look at the unfamiliar ceiling.

There’s a few cracks in it that you count while you remind yourself how to breathe. Eventually you have to get up and change into the school uniform instead of the blinding orange jumpsuit. If you remember right you were all supposed to meet in a classroom to get your final assignments, and then jump on a train and go to your new company with a resume in hand. 

You ended up following a pair of girls to the classroom, where you plopped yourself next to Shinra. You didn’t see Arthur or Ogun anywhere, which was weird. If you recalled right Ogun stayed in the fourth after graduation, and he and Arthur were close friends of Shinra, even if Arthus disagreed with that fact for the most part. 

You shoot Shinra a quick grin, and turn to face the front again. 

If you remember right, this was where your were assigned the fourth in the game, along with Ogun. You (or the MAIN character) got in trouble snooping around and Ogun, after hearing your reasoning, turned himself into your own personal body guard. 

Now that you were thinking about it, it might be a good idea to start writing everything you know down. 

God knows you’re gonna forget something important when you need to remember it. 

Er, Sol knows? 

This is stupid. 

You look up at some nameless teacher who paces the front, holding a stack of assignments for you and copies of the applications that had been sent to each of the companies. 

This is it. 

You sit a bit straighter. 

The teacher hands out each person a form. When you look to the side you see Shinra grinning that huge, nervous smile of his and it’s all you can do not to pinch his cheeks and tell him how cute he is. 

The teacher finally hands you your assignment. 

Company 8. 

You do a fist pump. 

“Hell yeah! First choice!” 

A few of your classmates shoot you startled looks. Was your character really so quiet before? 

“Hey, I got the same one,” Shinra poked his head over to see. The list was pretty simple. All it said was the company number, their captain, leuitenant, and address. A glance around revealed that everyone else had a whole packet of information on their new companies. But 8 was so small, and so new, apparently they didn’t warrant it. 

That was fine. You already knew enough it hardly mattered. 

“We’ll be together then,” you say cheerfully. “Wanna take the train together?” 

Please say yes. I don’t know where the train station is. Or how to ride one. 

Shinra nodded, “Yeah. Sounds like fun.” 

“Wanna meet at my room and we’ll go? It says we’re supposed to meet them at their station this afternoon.” 

“Are you sure?” Shinra looked startled. You poked his cheek. 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t, babe.” 

Shinra suddenly looked unsettled. “You’re not just doing this to mess with me, right?” 

“Mess with you?” You cocked your head. “What would I do that for?” 

He didn’t have an answer for that, but it made you sad. You knew he got teased a lot, but was it really so bad he thought you being friendly was a trick? 

You were so gonna get in a fight here someday. 

You flipped your company eight paper around so you could take a look at the copy of your resume that they’d be getting there. It was pretty bare bones. It had your name, age, weight, height, blood type, and listed you as a Second Class Fire Soldier, as well as your grades. They were all pretty average, but apparently you were good at math. 

You didn’t have a home address, but it did say you were Ueno, but that part you knew already. In the game you’d gone to Asakusa on an errand, done a bunch of side quests, and found out that Ueno was your home town and it was nearby. It was mostly made of museums and old buildings. 

Still nothing about your pyrokinesis. Damn it. 

This was starting to get annoying. 

“So I’ll see you in a few hours, right?” You clarify quickly, looking up at Shinra. 

Shinra still looks surprised, but he nods quickly, with another small smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you then.” 

You bump fists with him again before you retreat to your room. 

You take to your desk and grab a pencil and paper to try to write down everything you remember, in english for good measure. You don’t know how you know japanese now, but then again you don’t know a lot of things lately. 

What I know for sure: 

MAIN CHARACTER’s family is from Ueno. They died in an infernal fire. They had a sister they’re looking for. They have their sisters ring, a scar on their wrist, and lighter that’s connected to the Tragic Back Story. After the fire SISTER enrolled in the Fire Force Special Academy, leaving MAIN on their own for a few years. She disappeared not long after graduating, and MAIN joined to try to find her in turn. 

In the original game MAIN joins fourth company, which their sister was a part of before her disappearance. In their first night there they dream of a man in a red suit who smiles and pats their head. He’s probably important. Maybe dad??? Likely dead. They snoop around and get in trouble a couple of times, but the captain is on their side and let’s it slide with a slap on the wrist? And no mention of wanting to be lit on fire. He’s a cool, if weird old dude. 

Ogun takes it upon himself to look after MAIN after they nearly get arrested looking into 5th company. 

    Note, avoid the Princess until after Shinra works his magic. 

A choice is made: agree to let Ogun help or ditch him. 

MAIN chose help and together THEY snuck into the Holy Sol Temple. While Ogun looks above, MAIN manages to find a door leading down to old training grounds.

    Note. MAIN didn’t know they were for the shadow sun whatever they were called training. 

MAIN gets lost and pops out at the end of a tunnel, where Joker happens to be setting some cards up. 

    Note . Why???? 

A choice is made ; Tell Joker the truth or lie. 

MAIN admits to Joker that they’re looking into a disappearance, and suspect the church of having something to do with it. They admit that they think the entire situation is a little hazy, and the history is a fragile thing. After that Joker is considered a Friend.  

MAIN returns to Ogun, but only hints at what they found underground. That night they dream of the Man in Red, who tries to speak to them and pats them again. They notice he has a ring with the same design as their own. 

MAIN also spent time in Asakusa with Benimaru Shinmon and Konro. MAIN was little more than an over glorified messenger at the time, but took advantage of the opportunity to see their old home. (UENO) 

    Note. Benimaru is hot

A choice is maid ; leave at once or help out. 

Did a buncha side quests in Asakusa when MAIN stumbled on an old subway entrance in the basement of a restaurant they were working in. The owner says it’s dangerous to go down, but there are a few other holes around the city. Most have been boarded up long ago. 

MAIN, not knowing what they are, leaves them be. 

    Note. Were the subways part of the underground church forbidden place??? Asakusa doesn’t follow the church? So they don’t think they’d curses just dark and flooded? 

MAIN goes home. Rumors of the White Clad begin to circulate, and MAIN goes to company eight to ask Shinra about them directly, thinking that their sister might have been taken by them. 

. . . 

You look at your paper and realize something vital. 

You’ve misspelled maid. 

Fuck it. 

You also write the three powers you could have picked down in blue ink, taking the last pen in your drawer out.

The fire wings, Phoenix in the game. They were support type, with heavy defense properties and minor healing powers, but you couldn't fly which was lame. 

The fire spear, the Sun Lance, was a damage type power. It took fire from around you and made a blade at the end of a long stick. Technically it was a spear, but if you flipped it upside down you could ride it like a witches broom. That one you could fly with, but not the wings. 

The magnet sand, Dark Desert, was a tank type. They made a lot of long range weapons and smashed through fire pretty easily and made strong walls, but it couldn't get too close to you or you yourself will take damage, and you can’t move while you use it. 

They’re all really cool, but you still don’t know which you have and you have no idea how to find out. And you can’t ask anyone or you’ll look crazy! 

...Maybe you should arrange an ‘accidental’ fall down the stairs and claim anmesia. 

Just when you’re seriously considering that option a harsh knock sounds on the door. 

You jump and smash your arm so hard into the drawer you actually break the bottom out of it. 

“Shit! Just a second!” You yell at the door. You scramble to try to hide the evidence when you realize ; the drawer isn’t broken. The bottom is fake. 

You carefully extract, from within, a thin, red, leatherbound book. A look at the inside cover shows you a note. 

To keep your thoughts in order, you scatter brain. 

<3 Fuyuki

Another knock sounds. 

“Hey! Are you ready to go?” Calls Shinra from the other side. 

“Y-yeah! Just a second!” You stuff the book into the front pocket of your bag and throw yourself to the door. You swing it open and throw Shinra back with your blinding grin. 

“Let’s go!” 

~

When the two of you board the train, each clutching your bag close, you’re forced to stand shoulder to shoulder with Shinra, who ends up keeping up his grin the whole time even though you can see him visibly straining to stop it. 

It probably doesn’t help that you keep looking at him, but oh well. 

The second you step out on the platform the screaming starts. A burning train is on its way. An infernal. You and Shinra scramble towards the sound, with Shinra in the lead, and come to a halt just in time to see the train stop. Fire streams out the windows and a creature from a nightmare crawls out of door. 

You swallow thickly. You can smell burning flesh. You can feel heat on your skin. 

This is real. 

You tear your eyes away from the walking corpse in time to see Company 8’s bad ass entrance. They’re all so cool! Maki is such a badass, and Obi is way too strong, and Iris is sweet faced and determined- 

You’re barely able to focus on the infernal itself, and you actually forget that the big metal sign is going to fall up until it happens. 

Shinra shoots off like a bullet. 

You’re left behind, your hair whipping behind you and your arm raised to protect your face while Shinra saves Iris for not-the-last-time. 

You watch him introduce himself, for a moment feeling like you’re just an observer. Its not really intruding, but the familiarity of it all doesn’t help anything. 

It’s not until Shinra points at you and says your name that you snap to attention. Your body knows to salute even if you don’t. 

“Sir!” You echo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. That was totally awesome, sir.” 

Obi gives you a brief once over before he nods, seriously. 

“Yes. Yes it was. It’s good to have the two of you. Come on. We should get going, back to the cathedral.” 

You and Shinra hurry to grab your things and follow after the four of them. 

When they’re not looking you elbow Shinra. 

“That was so cool!” You hiss. “I didn’t even have time to react and you totally saved the sister!” 

“A-ah, you really think so?” Shinra looked away, his cheeks pink and his grin huge. He scratched his cheek in embarrassment. “ I just did what any hero would!” 

You laugh and swing your arm around his shoulder. “True! Still, it was really awesome. I know I can count on you to help me in the future, right?” 

Shinra nods quickly, however embarrassed he might be.

“Yeah! Or I’m not-” 

You don’t get to hear his new, weird nickname. You’re cut off by the fact that instead of loading into a matchbox the captain has called you a cab. 

That’s weird. 

You know that’s weird. 

“...I don’t get it, but I’m not fighting it,” you say after a minute, and crawl inside. Shinra follows suit and the two of you finally make your way to the run down cathedral. 

Home suite home. 

 ~  ~

A/N So which power do you guys wanna see?

Dark Desert, Phoenix, or Sun Lance? Please let me know!

[tuiyla]

So I finally watched The Owl House

I wish I’d do this with every show I watch but it seems like only a lucky few get the She-Ra style rant of love treatment. Well, I finally watched The Owl House after my dash having been flooded for the past couple of weeks and I have some thoughts. Slight spoilers below.

First off, I love the whole vibe. I had a faint idea that this show would be about magic but I didn’t know much before watching - except for one thing, we’ll get back to that. The way it builds its world and deals with magic, though, is so refreshing. And I just have to mention here that I laughed out loud at all the Harry Potter jabs, they were hilarious. I expect we’ll learn much more about magic and its users as the show goes on but as far as the first season goes the introduction was really solid. It strikes the right balance between leaving things to the imagination but being more than “wave wand and magic happens”. It’s colourful, it’s creative, and I even like the ovens and school tracks, despite knowing that the story is about not conforming to those. It makes the Boiling Isles unique and make me want to learn more about the world even beyond the characters and the main plot.

TOH also presents a world that’s much more macabre than I was expecting from the Disney Channel, not that that’s a bad thing. I found myself thinking of Adventure Time at certain points and pondering, at scary moments, how kids would react. I think kids love this, though, and besides, nothing can be more scarring than Courage the Cowardly Dog was. It’s not that terrifying, of course, just daring enough to stand out. Overall the show has what I would classify as more of a Cartoon Network vibe than a Disney Channel one, but I admittedly haven’t really been following many Disney shows. In any case, I dig it. I dig the weird creatures and the beautiful backgrounds and I appreciate how alive the Boiling Isles feel. It doesn’t take long for TOH to immerse you in its world so I’m for one am hooked.

I make a big deal of loving the world itself because rarely does it happen that world-building stands out to me so soon in a series. I do love carefully constructed fantasy worlds but for the most part I’m more interested in the characters themselves. Here, I’d say it’s close to being a 50-50, which is something that even Avatar can’t say with its elemental masterclass in world-building (which is mostly because the character depth there is unrivaled but still). So yeah, kudos to The Owl House for achieving this. From Luz’s glyph magic to the covens and the titans, I’m excited to explore this world more.

Now, the characters. The real meat of any story. Starting with Luz, I have seen some criticism that she’s a generic hero so far, the “I’m a weirdo”, heart of gold, upbeat variety. I don’t think this makes her bland, though I do admit that being told over and over again that she’s weird makes me less engaged, even she’s also shown to be weird. I like the message of her arc and that the chosen one trope was deconstructed almost right away. I like that she’s relentlessly enthusiastic and kind to people and I like that she doesn’t have to get more bitter in order to get development. Instead, she learns from her mistakes but keeps being herself and brings her unique spirit to the Boiling Isles. We need protagonists like Luz, not just because she’s latina and bisexual but because her learning process doesn’t involve cynicism. Sure, there is a lot she needs to learn but her heart is presented as an asset and a sort of source of magic. I’m excited to see where her story goes, for sure.

I’m gonna write briefly about the other characters before I get to my favourite one. Eda is super cool and I quickly got over the fact that she’s not Beatrice Horseman, lol. She embodies such a youthful energy but the show also allows her to be a middle-aged woman comfortable in her own body - well, owl curse notwithstanding. Also, her relationship with Lilith is one of my favourite parts of the whole show. Eda subverts so many of the mentor’s traditional tropes and I’m here for it. I kinda thought she was the villain based on her design and when I didn’t know anything about the show but hey, happy she’s not.

I don’t think I’d even seen a picture of King before starting to watch the series and at first I thought I’d get tired of him real quick. He’s the type of character who can get really annoying instead of endearing really fast if he’s not given any depth or charm, both by way of writing and voice acting. Luckily, I ended up liking King and his antics. His design is indeed adorable and Alex Hirsch is a genius. The only time I felt like he went too far was, perhaps surprisingly, in the book writing episode, “Sense and Insensitivity”, but even there going too far was the point. So yeah, King’s also great, there’s much potential in his backstory and general character.

Alright so really quickly, other characters: Willow and Gus are generic best friend characters and though they already have other things going on, I expect more development as the series progresses. I like that Willow is actually super powerful, just not in the way people expected her to and Gus is clearly also talented despite being younger. I’d be happy to see more of the other kids, get more familiar with Hexside. Edric and Emira are fun characters but they were really shitty in their first episode so I was kind of surprised they weren’t more of a nuisance to Amity later on. I’m all for supportive siblings so I wouldn’t mind a good relationship between the three but I feel like it’s more complicated than that with the Blights.

Finally, I also have to mention that Hooty is... well, quite something, isn’t he. Much like with King, I thought he’d be much more annoying but somehow the show is self-aware enough that it makes Hooty tolerable. I’m almost always torn between feeling sorry for him and being thoroughly weirded out, and I think that’s the intention? It’s fitting that he’s the titular character as he embodies the tone of The Owl House well in my eyes. He’s there for the comedy but there’s just enough there to hint at something more. Very bizarre, strong CN vibes, here for it.

Now that I’ve written a paragraph more about Hooty than I expected to, let’s talk about Amity. Listen, no other character stood a chance to be my favourite as soon as I learned Mae Whitman voiced Amity. That woman gave me Katara so now I have a quasi Pavlovian response to her voice. I’d also say that I knew more about Amity going into the show than I did about any other aspect of TOH. I heard somewhere that she started out as an antagonist, I knew her parents were abusive, and the reason the show blew up on my dash and my general online bubble is the Grom episode. Lucikly I only saw stills of Lumity beneath the crescent moon but the pure Sapphic energy of that was enough to gay migrate me to this show. I’d like to note it here though that The Owl House is a good show in and of itself, the queer rep is just a nice extra. I’m gonna spend the next couple hundred words going on about Amity and her crush on Luz but I don’t value only that. The Gay Migration is great and rep is great but I’m also grateful to have a solid show behind it. That being said.

I’m a total dyke for Amity Blight. I was very biased before even being introduced to her character but I genuinely find her to be fascinating and she has great potential. She’s developing quite quickly, like much of The Owl House, but an arc not being stretched out for several seasons before getting a rushed conclusion is refreshing. The progress hits all the beats and the only note I have is that I want more. She starts out as a generic bully but the opportunity to be more is there from the beginning. We find out early on that she used to be friends with Willow, we see that she works hard and values honest work. When she becomes Luz’s rival, it doesn’t last long before Amity shows that she’s open to new perspectives. That’s not to defend or even justify her earlier and nastier moments, Amity was rude to both Luz and Willow. But through all that, she becomes a complex character who does bad things but isn’t a bad person and grows when she gets the space to. I think that’s neat.

Luz’s decision to befriend her might be cartoon logic but as someone who subscribes to the “kill them with kindness” ideology, I can totally relate. Amity’s softer side doesn’t take long to show and “Lost in Language” is such a great episode to show how complex people can be. Again, I was already biased when it came to Amity but she’s consistently shown to be capable of self-reflection and growth when others give her the chance. I think her past and potential future friendship with Willow is a great way to explore many different topics and I’m trusting the show to do it justice. I also can’t wait to meet the rest of the Blights, if only to get me some angst and further develop Amity. I half expected Grom to take the form of her parents. Too dark for Disney? Well, we don’t know Amity’s dynamic with her parents, exactly, but there’s so much subtext and potential. I love what we’ve already seen from her but I’d also say that she has one of the greatest potentials in the show.

Another way in which this potential manifests is Lumity, of course. Again, they’re developing quite quickly but that doesn’t mean it’s rushed. I’d love to explore Amity’s crush more and what Luz means to her. The Grom episode surpassed all expectations, still and gifs don’t do the stunning dance sequence justice. The animation is so smooth, the colours are amazing, the music is on point and the Sapphic vibes complete the picture. Poetic cinema, truly. Molly Ostertag and Noelle Stevenson are really out there giving wlw animation fans everything we ever wanted, huh. It also warms my heart that the crush is made very clear, not just by Luz’s name being on the note but by the delightful gay disaster that is Amity in “Wing It Like Witches”. I never thought I’d ever see such a relatable useless lesbian in animation so kudos to Dana Terrace and the whole crew. Wow, how far we’ve come.

So yeah, Amity is a funky little lesbian and I’m a 100% here for her gay disaster moments, but I also love where Lumity is going thematically. They’re great as foils and I’m hoping that they won’t get together at the very end. Look, I love me some Bubbline, Korrasami and Catradora, but it’s time a wlw relationship had the chance to exist onscreen and not only in the last episode. The Owl House has a great chance to do that. I know the creators don’t want romance to be the main focus and I respect that, I think the world they created deserves to showcased and explored to its full potential. Lumity could be a great subplot though, as representation on the one hand and as a thematically interesting dynamic on the other. Plus, Luz and Amity are just cute and sometimes, it’s as simple as that. Oh, and also the whole Little Miss Perfect thing? One of the best fandom discoveries I’ve made in a long while. Not only is the song truly perfect for Amity, I love that Joriah Kwamé went on to write Ordinary as well. This right here is why fandom is beautiful.

I think that’s about it for season 1 initial thoughts. The moral can be a bit on the nose at times, especially in the early episodes but the show is ultimately for kids and I appreciate its message. Interesting world and magic system, good characters, great potential for later seasons, just a well put together show that I’m really glad I started watching. I’m kind of sorry I didn’t keep up with season 1 as it was coming out but I would not have been able to wait between episodes. The pacing is good overall, deffo moves fast but I wouldn’t call it rushed, and the “filler” episodes still add something to the story. I’m not sure if I would still feel like the show moves at a fast pace if I hadn’t binged it but in any case it isn’t rushed, the necessary beats are all there and have time to sit. I’m going to watch as it comes out from now on so hopefully season 2 will arrive early next year.

Oh, and: I’m very new to the fandom, barely just found out about Little Miss Perfect, so any and all tidbits, fun facts, and fic recommendations are welcome. Also if you just want to chat my inbox is always open!

[fleckcmscott]

Awake

Summary: It's one of those rare mornings in which Y/N stirs before Arthur. She reflects on sharing life (and a bed) with him.

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Words: 3,524

A/N: This is a request from @jokerownsmysoul​, who is very dear and extremely generous. Thank you for sending this to me! It was interesting and I enjoyed writing it!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The continuous battering of rain on the metal air conditioner resounded through the room. Arthur had put it in the window by the closet rather than the windows behind their bed, but it was loud enough to disrupt Y/N's sleep, anyway. She welcomed it, though. Summer in the city was often harder than it had been back home. The asphalt amplified the heat, and Gotham's mix of skyscrapers, office buildings, and apartment complexes prevented any cool breeze from blowing through at ground level.

Her clammy commutes had resulted in curled papers in her canvas bag, curled tips of her hair, and her polyester office wear making her sweat, sweat, sweat. She was sure that pattern would continue today - it was unlikely the ventilation on the H train had been repaired. Lying there, she wanted the sky to open. For a downpour to cut through the humidity. For a thunderstorm to sweep in, in the way that had scared and exhilarated her as a little girl.

Dim, silvery light spilled past the edges of the shades. It was early. She might be able to nab another hour of shuteye. She stretched and mewled. Rolled onto her right side. Tucked her folded hands beneath the blanket.

But the drawn-out, low rattle of Arthur's snoring prodded her whenever she was about to nod off.

Opening one eye, she peeked at him. Then she quietly reached and rolled up both shades to get a better look. Brown waves tumbled over his pillow, the same one he'd brought with him from 8J. His left arm lay on the mattress, his right resting across his stomach. While his torso was half-supine, his waist faced her. The cover had fallen to his thighs, and a foot stuck out from beneath the sheets, toes flexing along with his breathing. Nestling closer, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

It had been four months since they'd boarded the subway together, his few belongings in tow, to set out towards whatever may lie ahead. They'd only lived three stations apart, but her glee had climbed with each stop. Unable to contain herself, she'd pecked Arthur's apprehensive face whenever their eyes met. Until he'd snorted, pulled her tight against him, and murmured an unnecessary, "Thanks."

Sitting, she let her eyes roam the room. While they were still getting used to each other's habits and compromising when necessary, it struck her how easy it had been to allow him into her place. And now it was their place.

Unlike in his old apartment, there were hints of him everywhere. His blue house pants were draped on the chair in the corner. The watch she'd surprised him with - but he didn't wear - sat on the bureau, amongst her jewelry box, his wallet, and a prescription. With a muted chuckle, she recalled the bottle of lubricant she'd put in the drawer of her nightstand, used when her body wouldn't match the arousal of her brain or they were in a hurry.

She hadn't yet gotten over waking up to him every day, having him be a part of her routine. Coffee was always ready when she shuffled into the kitchen, their mugs side-by-side in front of the machine. Arthur would kiss her unhurriedly, and she usually didn't mind the smokiness of his breath.

When he was in good spirits (which, from what she could gather, was about seventy-three percent of the time), a shy smile would show off his chipped front tooth. He'd jut his hip against the counter while they discussed their day. Or current events. Or a favorite film or show. The little things. The big things. Everything in between. Now and then he'd whip out a joke and make her giggle or groan, in delight and in love.

Before Arthur and she had met, it had been ages since she'd last shared a bed with someone. And even longer since she'd enjoyed it. There had been her ex-husband, Jeff, for over nine years. It had been fun at the beginning. New. Exciting. Even with her lurking suspicion that marrying him had been a mistake, she'd thought she might have found a role that would make her happy. Allow her to fit into the small town she'd been raised in.

The dissolution of their marriage hadn't been all his fault. Sure, he'd been too serious, but he'd introduced her to the legal field and supported her decision to go to school. Had helped shape who she was. And he'd tried. But he wasn't a mind reader.

She'd been too young and insecure to tell him she didn't have the energy to make breakfast and dinner, not on top of a full class load and work. Yes, she did mind him talking to clients whenever they ate. No, she didn't just want to be Jeff Thompson's wife; she wanted to be Y/N Thompson. His but also herself. The last morning they'd spent together had been the first time they'd communicated in years.

Harry had been a nice guy, she'd believed. Nice enough to be involved with for twenty-two months. One day he'd told her he needed to find someone he could start a family with. Y/N had been hurt. And pissed. They hadn't discussed having children; she knew better than to out herself as a woman who had no interest in motherhood. It had made her wonder, though, what it was about her that was objectionable.

And then there was four years ago. Leonard had been a pipefitter who'd done some repairs at her office. She'd been working twenty hours a week, trying to stay sane when she wasn't housekeeping for, bathing, or attempting to ground her father. Leonard had been attractive. Polite. Had slipped her two copies of his business card, one for the boss and one for her. Desperation to have a conversation that wasn't comprised of confused sentences, episodic accusations, or mentions of bowels had compelled her to call him.

They'd been lying in bed when he'd said, "This isn't working."

Signs it wasn't going to last had emerged, but she'd tried to ignore them. After she'd disclosed her dreams of getting out of Boonville, after their first few dates, they'd rarely talked. Her drive to pursue her own hobbies had died as her responsibilities had increased, and she couldn't pretend to be interested in the sports he liked. Sex was the only thing they liked doing together. And it was just to feel something that wasn't awful, not to connect.

"I know," she'd replied. "I'm sorry. I'm not the best version of myself at the moment."

"Don't be too hard on yourself." He'd stood to pull on his jeans. "You're a nice woman, Y/N. I hope you make it to Metropolis or Gotham or wherever." She'd seen him to the front porch, where'd they'd shaken hands. When she'd finally left town, she'd given him some of her appliances for his shop's break room.

Arthur's mumbles broke her out of her reverie as he turned towards her. The tension he regularly carried was gone, his handsome features relaxed. She decided to believe he was at peace. Long eyelashes rested on his sculpted cheekbones. The temptation of his parted lips, mere inches away. The earthy hint of his perspiration wafted to her nostrils, and she smiled at the arousal blooming in her belly.

His lack of awareness of the power he had over her was amusing, though she expected him to figure it out eventually. They had sex a couple times a week, often more. He was an eager late bloomer, and she enjoyed being with him just as thoroughly. He valued the intimacy of the act as much as getting off.

Their lovemaking was simple, their explorations incremental - given his past, it was vital to respect his boundaries. But he was becoming more comfortable asking questions. Discovering what he preferred, as well as what he disliked. Telling her what he needed.

Or the things he longed to do to her.

A shaky exhale left her at the recollection, and she placed a kiss to the scar above his mouth. Her palm drifted down the column of his neck to his chest, and further still to his abdomen, her fingertips following the sparse strip of hair leading to his briefs. When she reached for his hip, her forearm bumped against his semi-hard "morning wood," a phrase that had always made her laugh.

Running her nails along his thigh, she admired the smattering of freckles and his firm muscles. For such a lanky man, his strength was impressive. It must have stemmed from running around Gotham all his life. And the dancing with which he so beautifully expressed himself, whether anxious, upset, or happy.

With a groan, he shifted onto his left side, dark brows pinched. Conscientiousness interrupted her desire and she halted. His insomnia had improved, he'd said. It was rare for him to go four or five days without sleep (though he intermittently did for one or two).

But he had had back-to-back jobs yesterday. He'd stayed in his writing nook until after she'd gone to bed, the mattress having dipped under his weight shortly past twelve. And he had an open-mic night coming up. Letting him rest would be the kind thing to do. It would also give her the chance to make breakfast and coffee for him for a change. Once she pressed a kiss to his cheek, she started to rise.

A loose grasp on her wrist. "Where are you going?" he asked, words husky with fatigue.

She twisted to meet his gaze but found his eyes were shut. "I was going to get you something to eat."

"That's sweet." Yawning, he stretched, then brought her closer until she was tucked into his side. "Stay." It was as much a request as a demand, Y/N knew, and she acquiesced with a grin. She buried her nose in his disheveled hair, breathed him in, relished the lazy drag of his fingers up her back.

The rain outside had reduced to a soothing patter, and she thought he would drift off. But his stroking continued. His grasp went to her leg, and she let him guide her to settle on top of him. "I dreamed something," he said. "It's hard to remember."

At the spark of their centers coming into contact she shivered. Not wanting him to think she wasn't listening, she forced herself to remain stationary. The feverishness of his smooth skin didn't make that easy. She caressed his sideburns. "Tell me what you can."

As he focused on the ceiling, eyelids heavy with sleep, he brought his hands to rest above his head on the pillow. "My ribs hurt - I must have been laughing. And it smelled like the bus." He glanced at her as he spoke. "But then I was here on our fire escape. Throwing my cards into the street. The ones that explain my condition. And then a woman was trying to get my jacket off." His lips curved, giving her a playful look. "I couldn't see or hear her, but she must have been you. She wouldn't stop touching me."

While he'd never disclosed the details, Y/N knew he suffered from nightmares. That hadn't been a shock. The child protective filings at her old job had described them as a common symptom of PTSD, which she assumed Arthur had. Every so often, he'd startle awake, hard enough to stir her. When that happened, he'd normally dismiss her attempts to draw him close, choosing to leave the room. Occasionally, he'd let her hold him until his breathing had steadied. Tell him she loved him. That he was safe.

A halfway enjoyable dream? That was a consolation. Propping her chin on the heel of her hand, she returned his pleased countenance. And the longer she gazed at him, the more acutely aware she became of the hard plains of his body pressed into her curves. "That sounds nice," she said. Amorousness buzzed in the air, despite her earlier effort to behave, and she played with the brown tuft under his arm, traced the hair circling the disc of his nipple.

The pad of his thumb swiped along her lips, and she opened her mouth around it for a kiss. "It was." The bob of his Adam's apple betrayed the fervor growing in him. As did the strain of his hard-on at her vulva. His eyes sparkled with mischief as she lightly rubbed herself against him. Slick pooled in her core at the friction, dampening her underwear. Pressure built quickly, with each groping kiss and graze of his fingers on her flank. The unrushed rolls of their hips continued until their breaths were ragged and she thought she would shatter.

She pushed herself to her knees, yanked at her panties while he reached to help. "You just woke up," he said in drowsy astonishment. "How are you this wet already?"

Continuing to straddle him, she sat and took hold of the hem of her short nightgown. "I'm in bed with you." The cotton going over her head muffled her words. "It's not a challenge." The offending piece of fabric was tossed to the floor. "Besides, doing that to me is an old habit of yours."

He cupped the dip of her waist. "Is it?" Even in the gray, morning light, his blush was prominent.

"Every time we talked on the phone. Your voice is such a turn-on." She folded down the elastic of his underwear, sighed at the slight bounce of his erection as he lifted his pelvis to permit the briefs' removal. "Everything about you is a turn on. It's a wonder I get anything done."

Arching into her labia, he groaned. "You're always so horny."

She appreciated his attempt at matching her forwardness and regarded him with a smirk. "You should fuck me, then," she teased, placing her hands on her hips to better display her breasts. Then she giggled at herself for trying to pretend she was seductive. When she'd done that in the past, success had never been more than middling. But with Arthur it was all right. No matter how ridiculous she felt, how silly the sentences spilling out of her were, he loved them. Especially when she made him laugh.

Like now. Though flustered, his hitched laughter was genuine and joyous. Different from the one he'd described in his dream, the one that still happened at inappropriate times (albeit less frequently). He appeared to like the role of object of desire. Of her significant other. Of her beloved. And though he'd told her he preferred being on top, claiming it was harder for him to "screw up," his hungry regard let her know he was fine with relinquishing some control today.

The repeated bumping of the ridge of his cock against her sensitive bud was bringing her nearer and nearer to her peak. Especially when his touch skimmed past her ribs to knead her swaying breasts, his thumbs swirling around her areolas. Her nipples puckered until they ached. Bending up, he took one into his mouth, and she writhed harder, whining and cradling his head while trying to support herself.

Her release was approaching, only a few seconds away. She scooted further back to kneel above him. Their hands collided when they both reached between their legs. Steadying herself on the mattress, she held herself open. The concentrated expression he wore revealed his impatience to enter her, but after two or three tries she had to take hold of him. Lowering herself, her pace careful, gentle, she let out a short moan at the delicious pressure of him breaching her.

"Ow, wait." His grip on her was sudden.

She braced herself on his chest. "Are you all right?"

Nodding sharply, he steered her a bit to the left. "That's better." He craned his neck, closing his eyes and smiling softly as he brought her down onto him, sheathing himself completely. "I love how you feel," he breathed.

She wriggled slightly, trying find the sweet spot that would result in rapture instead of discomfort. This was always trickier than she remembered. Grasping his shoulders, she propped herself on her forearms on either side of him and leaned forward. "I love how you fill me," she replied, clenching around his shaft.

Neither moved at first, choosing instead to bask in the sheer pleasure of the other. She ran her hands along his biceps, squeezed the toned sinews. Took in how the light played across his pale complexion and the hollows of his frame. "Arthur, you're beautiful."

He hiccuped on a chuckle, raising his hips, and she felt the blunt tip of him brush her cervix. "I think you're getting me mixed up with you."

His patch of coarse curls tickled her swollen nub, and she was consumed by the need to move. She wanted to find a good rhythm. One that wouldn't have him slip out of her. She gyrated her pelvis in a small circle, starting off leisurely, low grunts and groans escaping both of them.

Then her clit hit his pubic bone at just the right angle and she jolted.

Pulling her down to him, he melded their mouths as he rocked upwards. His supple lips were frantic, tongue twining with hers. One hand was gripping her shoulder, the fingers of the other digging her thigh as his movements quickened. Hooking his ankle around her calf, his other leg hit her ass as he bent it at the knee. "Fuck me," he rasped by her ear. "Fuck me. Please, Y/N, fuck..."

No man had ever begged her to fuck him before. It wasn't something they normally said, from her experience. But Arthur often took his cues from her. She had been his only partner, and she pleaded for him to fuck her - a lot. It wasn't the words that were surprising; it was the fire that shot through her in response.

She watched his brows draw together, the setting of his jaw as lust overcame his face. Lifting herself a few inches, she observed the rise and fall of Arthur's ribs with each shallow inhalation. How his lean abdominals bunched with every thrust.

Moaning, Y/N answered him by increasing her tempo. The smooth undulations of her hips fell away. Were replaced by a hurried up and down, up and down on the rigid heat of his cock. It was heady, as was the rising pitch of his whimpers.

With a harsh cry he surged into her, clutching her rear to keep her in place. She keened at the pulses of his erection within her walls. The splash of his release filling her. The racing of his heart, which she swore she could hear. His collarbones rose and fell with every gasp, his eyelids screwed shut.

Hurriedly, she slid her hand to her center and flicked her fingertip across her hood, feeling him soften inside her as she rutted against him and her own touch. His hand went to her back, encouraging her to continue. To take what she needed. To drive closer and closer to the precipice...

Her climax was swift. Not earth shattering but blissful all the same. It felt like relief instead of being winded. She smiled down at him, her eyes fluttering open to see the appealing flush on his neck and cheeks. Returning her amused look, he brought her down to him. Grinned against her mouth as she trembled, devouring her lips. Nuzzled at her and told her how happy she made him.

A tender warmth diffused from her center, flowing to her arms and legs. Feeling dreamy, she collapsed onto him, humming as she caught her breath. The muscles of her thighs were burning. And the ligaments in her knees were already sore. If this was going to become routine, she'd have to start doing squats or something. She pecked at his jaw. "You're the only man who's asked me to fuck him."

He gathered her hair, pushed it out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Was that weird?"

Giggling, she sighed contentedly and shrugged. "I liked it. And I'll do it anytime."

After a few moments, he smoothed his palm down her body and patted her bottom. She boosted herself on her elbow and kissed the bridge of his nose, then the wrinkles on his chin. "Are you still going to Amusement Mile? It wouldn't make sense with the rain. There likely won't be many people." She massaged his shoulder, caressed him with the back of her hand. "You should give yourself a break and relax."

After a thoughtful “hm,” he caught her fingers and kissed them. "I'll probably stay put. Can I call at lunch?"

How he managed to make her heart leap so easily, she'd never know. "I think I'd love that. Though you don’t have to ask." Cupping his cheeks, she bent to seal their lips, then began to extricate herself from his arms.

But he kept his hold on her. “One small thing,” he said, rubbing one eye. "I’d like raspberry toast with coffee."

~~~~~

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