#Split Soulmate AU

[liveslivedinthemind]

It’s called Freefall Chapter 3

Summary: When you're born, the Universe has already decided who will be your soulmate by marking their first touch on your skin. Some of those soul marks are just a small fingerprint on their shoulder, or maybe a hand mark from a handshake. Some even have multiple, and it is never sure what kind of a bond you're destined to have with your soulmate. Alexandra Turner is a special case however, as her whole body is covered in marks. 24 to be exact. What she doesn't know that there's someone else out there with 24 marks who's waiting for her to bump into them.

Pairing: Original Female Character x Kevin Wendell Crumb/Dennis/Barry/the whole system

Fandom: Split

Word count: 1.4k

Masterlist

Author’s note: Please feel free to let me know if I have messed something up or if you have any advice on how I can improve my writing. I hope you enjoy!

If you wish to be added to the taglist for this fic, let me know :)

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Barry couldn’t stop smiling to himself as he led Alex through the masses of people that were leaving their workplaces. He had met his soulmate, he had actually met her and he had been the first one as well out of everyone. He knew that they were all on the same team, that being Kevin’s, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit special since he had found the one destined for them. 

But no matter how happy he was, Barry still felt a bit of sadness because even he could see that there was something hurting Alex, something that was stopping her from feeling the same joy he had in his heart. He had always known that he’d have to be prepared to be rejected by their soulmate purely because of his condition, but he never expected to be met with sadness before he had even had the chance to introduce himself. He wasn’t sure what had happened to her, but he knew that, if she allowed him to, he’d want to make sure that sadness would be replaced with a smile. 

Alex found herself in front of a small café that was only a five minute walk away from the therapist’s office. It looked quite quiet inside, despite the busy traffic outside, which she was very grateful for. Nodding a thank you to Barry for holding the door open for her, she stepped in and looked around - there were only a few patrons there and plenty of empty tables were free for them to have what she suspected was going to be one of the most difficult conversations in her life. 

“What do you want to drink, Alex?”

She heard Barry ask and she immediately looked up at the chalkboard menu on the wall, her head swimming with options. She tried to open her mouth and  reply with anything, but no voice came out. She was still unable to fully speak and her cheeks flushed, ashamed of her own anxiety getting the best of her. 

But Barry just smiled reassuringly and gently placed his hands on her shoulder, right on top of his mark. He may not know or understand what’s going on in her mind, but he could tell that at that very moment, he needed to just offer that extra bit of support so he looked up at the menu and offered,

“How about we just get a teapot to share? Is Earl Grey okay?”

Alex was shocked to hear him speaking up with a choice, taking a lot of pressure off her shoulders. She nodded, this option was fine with her and the smile she received in return made her feel a bit more at ease as well. 

After Barry had ordered and picked up their teapot from the barista, he led her to one of the more secluded areas to sit down. She had picked up the cups for the both of them before following him, happy that he had chosen a private space for them. She may not fully know what was to come but she had a gut feeling that it would not be a simple ‘how’s the weather today’ type of a conversation. There was a silence between them as they settled in at the table for two, neither of them wanting to scare the other off it seemed. Once sat and both of their breathing had calmed, Barry finally looked at her properly and spoke up with his voice being gentle and soft, something that didn’t fully suit his massive frame.

“So, as I mentioned before, I do have a couple of marks on me. Now… before I continue, I just want you to know that I won’t force anything that you don’t want, Doll, so please just speak your mind on what I’m about to explain to you.”

He paused for a moment and looked across the table at Alex, the fear of just outright rejection slowly building up in his chest. She remained as silent as she had been, there wasn’t any indication that she would bolt again so he continued,

“There’s no smooth way to say this because I can’t really sugarcoat any part of it too much so here goes nothing… The reason why I visit doctor Fletcher is because I have DID.”

“DID?”

“Dissociative identity disorder. Have you heard of it maybe?”

Barry was praying to whoever was listening that she wouldn’t run, and that she would have heard at least something about his condition. He really didn’t want to explain the details of what it is and how it came to be, it wasn’t really a conversation to have over tea in his opinion. Luckily Alex nodded and whispered softly,

“I read about it a little when I looked Doctor Fletcher up.”

Barry gave her a kind smile and his heart was breaking just a little at how delicate she sounded. He didn’t know if it was the soul bond between the two of them but he felt an immense drive to make sure that nothing would spook Alex. He just had to make sure that none of her words would get lost between them, he’d always make sure her voice was heard at least by him. He was also relieved that she had some knowledge on his condition since this would save him from explaining everything from scratch. 

Barry poured some tea for the both of them and started to explain a bit more in the meantime,

“Now this is all speculation from doc’s side but she seems to be under the impression that there is a possibility that all of us in Kevin’s body might actually share a soulmate. We all seem to have a mark correlated to us, however it is just statistically unlikely that we haven’t even met a single one of our soulmates yet so… She seems to think it’s actually just one person. In our little situation, she thinks it’s you who’s the soulmate to all of us. Now-”

“How many?”

Alex had cut him off before he could continue and he looked at her for a moment, unsure if he should answer truthfully, scared it might frighten her too much. Barry sighed, knowing it would cause more harm to lie so he replied,

“24 in total. Kevin is the host, the OG so to speak. The others, me included, came later on and so did the extra marks.”

There was a moment of silence, tense of the unknown. Alex’s mind was going a thousand miles per hour as she tried to grasp the situation at hand. She had met one of her soulmates but it then turned out that it is most likely all of them. She thought that she would be happy but it was all so overwhelming for her to even fully accept. She took a deep breath before she spoke her mind,

“There are 24 marks on me as well, Barry. So I think that Doctor Fletcher might be right. It’s a lot to take in though, I honestly do not know what to say or do or if I should be happy or sad or…”

Her words got caught in her throat and she clamped up once again, unable to verbalize her trail of thoughts fully. Her eyes started darting from Barry to the outside to her mug and to her hands, not sure if she should run or stay. There were so many thoughts and images flashing through her brain that it all just blurred together in a consistent state of movement and screaming. 

Without thinking too much about it, Alex pulled out a piece of paper from her bag along with a pen and jolted down her name and phone number before she grabbed everything and bolted out of the door without uttering a single syllable. She needed to get out, away from the man who would be responsible for every single one of her marks over time. She just couldn’t look at him because deep down, without her even fully realizing it, her heart was slowly starting to beat only for them.

Back at the coffee shop, Barry was dumbfounded, still sitting at the table. This had been the second time that day his soulmate had fled from him but he knew it would cause a lot of harm if he were to go after her this time. He picked up the piece of paper and very carefully put it in his wallet to make sure he wouldn’t lose it. He finished his cup and looked out of the window, trying to soothe the ache in his chest from the very slight rejection he was feeling from the escape of his soulmate. His efforts were in vain however because from somewhere, he could hear Hedwig innocently asking,

“Is she scared of me et cetera?”

< Chapter 2                                                       Chapter 4 Coming soon >

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Taglist: @royaltysuite

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 21 || Weathered but Not Broken

Words: 3400 +

Warnings: None

Previous || Next

~21~

Iris cradled a coffee between her palms as she sat next to Felicia in the waiting area of the police station. The card that Montez had given to Barry the night before was tucked in her pocket, the officer himself momentarily busy. She had expected the wait, but her nerves were still rattled as she looked around at the other people waiting and the posters that lined the walls.

"Are you okay? You're white as snow," Felicia asked in concern, reaching out to gently stroke Iris's cheek. She had gotten some looks on their way to the station, but both women had studiously ignored them as they walked hand-in-hand along the sidewalk. Stopping briefly for coffee, Felicia had gotten a bewildered look from the barista when she gave her two female names to put on the cups.

Dressed in a dark winter pea-coat and dark skinny jeans that were tucked into ankle boots, she didn't look overly feminine to the average person that walked by. Her mannerisms and her voice, however, were distinctly that of a female. Iris had noticed how she'd shied away at times, tucking her head downward awkwardly to make herself less visible. That is when she'd grabbed her hand and had proudly walked down the street with her larger palm cradled in her hand—bare of gloves.

Iris didn't get the chance to respond before a familiar voice called from the front desk. "Miss. Mayfair?"

Iris turned from her soulmate to catch the eyes of Montez, who looked momentarily surprised at her pin-straight hair and eyes surrounded in red-gold colour. Felicia placed a comforting hand on her leg before Iris stood up, her coffee pressed to her chest as she walked over to meet with the officer from the previous night.

"You're looking much better, Miss. Mayfair. It's good to see," he offered kindly, smiling as he spoke.

"Thank you," Iris mumbled back shyly before her eyes fell on the folder that held her statement. He didn't wait a moment more before he opened the folder and placed her written confession on the table. Her writing was messier than usual, a testament to her shock as she attempted to write. "So I just need to sign at the bottom?" she asked quietly as she placed her coffee just to the side, freeing her hands.

"If you want, you can read it over and make changes. If you sign it, that means that this is final," he answered calmly while sliding the paper closer to her. Iris shook her head, knowing that she was careful enough to repeat each detail the night before as carefully as her muddled brain could. Montez placed a pen on the sheet for her to use, before he patiently waited as Iris picked it up with a much steadier hand and scrawled her loopy signature on the bottom.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Ma'am, you're free to go. We may contact you in the near future if we have any more questions. I have your cell number, is it alright to use if I need to speak with you?"

"Yes, I always have it with me," she answered easily, reclaiming her coffee as he recollected the sheets. "Have a good day, Officer Montez," she added on with a small smile, happy to be leaving the station. He smiled back before his eyes shifted to look over her shoulder; Felicia had stood up and was waiting for Iris.

She watched his eyes flick down to her hand, where he had caught the flash of her mark on the back of her hand, before he smiled again and nodded to her. Nodding back, Iris turned and headed over to Felicia with a hand outstretched already. Taking her soulmate's hand, the two women slipped from the station without waiting another moment and turned in the direction of Iris's apartment.

"Anything you want to do while we both have the day off?" Felicia finally asked once they were on their way, glancing down at Iris as they dodged people on the sidewalk.

"Honestly? Not a clue," Iris admitted with a slight laugh in her voice. "But considering how cold it is out here, preferably something that's inside?" Felicia laughed as she nodded in agreement, glad that she had pulled on a warm, dark blue hat before they had left—Iris had complimented the colour as soon as she spotted it, saying that it would bring out her soulmates eyes beautifully.

Pretty soon, the two women had crowded themselves into Iris's small apartment with her little heater cranked up to warm the space. Felicia gushed about how small and cute it was, reading the spines of Iris's book collection, then her tea tins, and finally ended at her miniscule wardrobe. She tutted over the oversized, covering clothing but didn't actually say anything against her choice in style. Iris was almost certain that all of her soulmates, even the ones she had yet to meet, were most likely aware of the scars on her body and why she preferred to remain covered.

"You need to buy some colour!" Felicia commented finally, noticing that mostly everything Iris owned was either black or dark grey. "It's so…blah! And you're already my little Snow White, no need to make you look even paler."

Iris huffed a laugh from where she was sitting on her bed, legs crossed comfortably as she watched Felicia card through her small amount of clothes. "Snow White? That's a new one."

Felicia spun with a grin, one of Iris's oversized sweaters in hand. "Oh, my dear Snow, you're basically a walking Disney character. And you can sing! That's even better!""

Iris snorted a laugh, quickly covering her mouth when the sound registered. "If you start calling me Snow, I'm gunna call you Cinnamon." Remembering her first words to Felicia made her smile; it was something sweet and memorable. She felt that she needed to make up for some of the less than kind or sweet remarks that had been left on her soulmate's body thus far.

Felicia gasped comically as she took in the nickname. "Cinnamon? I love it!"

She bounced up on the bed then, nearly tipping Iris over from the exuberance of the action, but both women simply laughed at the action as Iris quickly caught herself with outstretched palms. "Does my closet pass your approval?" she asked after a moment, nodding her head toward the corner of dark clothing hung up meticulously on cheap hangers.

Felicia made a face while glancing between her soulmate and the closet. "We definitely gotta go shopping once it warms up; you need some colour in your life. But, for now, it'll have to do." Iris laughed again, rocking her body to the side to give Felicia a slight shove.

As silence fell between them, Felicia glanced at Iris as a question sat on the tip of her tongue. Iris had mentioned the light earlier that morning, so she was picking up on things they said when talking about the other alters in Kevin's body, but she wondered just how much Iris understood. She was a smart woman, so Felicia was almost certain she'd done her own research on the subject, but to ask one of them would provide her with the best answer to anything she didn't understand.

"So, Iris," she finally started, deciding that she would at least give her little soulmate the chance to ask. "I understand that the…situation with me and the others—Barry and BT, all that—can be kinda confusing, so I was wondering if there was anything you wanted to ask?" Iris's soft gaze turned to her, eyes widened with surprise. "I know there's some stuff out there that explains D.I.D, but I'd be happy to give you a first-person explanation if you want it."

"Really?" Iris asked after a small pause. "You wouldn't be…offended?"

"Because you don't know everything?" Felicia asked, appalled. "No! Iris, none of us expect you to have full knowledge about us. Even when compared to other people that have multiple personalities, we're a whole other story. No one else in the world has ever had so many alters in one body—at least not that has been recorded. And you're proof that we're all real. Every mark on your body proves that we're not just a…glitch in the brain."

Iris reached out and caught Felicia's hand, the action so fast it was as though she was flinching. "I never thought that," she was quick to assure. "I know you're all as real as me or another other living person. I never doubted that, and it makes me sick to think that other people don't believe you are." Shuffling around so she was facing Felicia, Iris lifted her free hand to stroke her cheek. "Our bond is nothing like another out there, and I love that."

Felicia smiled back, pleased to hear how Iris had fully accepted her bond with them, as strange as it may be.

Iris looked down at Felicia's hand, cradling it between her palms in her lap. "I'm learning, bit by bit, each time I meet a new soulmate. I tried to research D.I.D, but even Dr. Fletcher's research was…biased? It was scientific, not reality. I felt like it was dehumanizing the people that I had met, so I stopped trying to read about it and decided that I would…go with the flow?" she explained carefully, not quite sure how to phrase it.

"Is there anything you want to ask me?" Felicia offered again, calmly waiting for Iris as she closed her eyes in concentration. It looked like she was trying to decide on which question to ask. "Ask me anything, Iris," Felicia continued, turning her hand over to hold one of Iris's smaller ones. "Anything and everything, if that's what you want."

Opening her eyes to meet Felicia's soft blue gaze, she took a steadying breath before nodding along. "One thing I wondered about was if you are all aware of what happens with whoever is in the light? You mentioned earlier that Barry being in the light made it possible for everyone to feel my fear…"

"We don't see or hear what the other alter experiences when they're in the light," Felicia assured. "I could talk to the others right now; I could tease Barry-"

"Don't you dare!" Iris laughed, seeing the teasing grin that had lit Felicia's expression before she continued.

"I can talk to the others, but they don't experience what I see or hear or whatever. I can show them if I really wanted, but we don't do that very often. Since only some of us have met you, when those people are in the light the sensations from the soulmark are…amplified."

Iris nodded along as she listened to her explanation, her fingers tracing Felicia's hand mindlessly. "Can more than one of you be in the light at the same time?"

This time, Felicia hesitated. "Not exactly at the same time, but there's been times when some of the others have switched who uses the light at a speed that it makes it seem like they're sharing it. Like, they can have conversations aloud with each other. We don't usually do that, though, since we can converse without doing it."

Iris noticed that she had offered the explanation without any names, so she took Felicia's hesitation as being trying to avoid revealing names of soulmates that Iris hadn't met yet. The others didn't seem to care about slipping names into conversation, but that didn't mean everyone else was the same. Felicia probably didn't want to confuse Iris by bringing up people she hadn't met yet.

"Do you guys have a fixed…schedule?" Iris hesitated a bit more this time, worried that the question would come across rude.

Felicia, however, answered it easily and without a care. "Not really. For work there is, but that's just because not everyone can actually do maintenance. I'd probably get us fired, so…"

Iris laughed at Felicia's attempt to cheer her up, feeling the worry she carried steadily ease. Once she'd calmed down, she glanced over toward the kitchen. "So, what do you want for lunch? I can make us some soup, and a fresh coffee?"

"That sounds fantastic," Felicia agreed, glancing over toward the window where Iris's heater was humming away, warming them up. It had begun to snow again shortly after they'd reached her building, the two breathing a sigh of relief to have escaped the sudden return of the storm. Iris shuffled off the bed and slipped into her small kitchenette, pulling out a large pot and some cutting boards. Felicia slid to the edge of the bed as she carefully watched Iris's trained motions.

Living on her own, she'd developed a routine when it came to preparing her meals and was glad that Felicia stayed back and out of her way.

She started the coffee first, before she began the prep work for the soup as the coffee brewed loudly in the corner. Their conversation turned to lighter topics as Iris hustled from side to side of her tiny kitchen to the other, Felicia's eyes followed her avidly as she asked about her soulmates reading habits, preferred music or movies.

At one point, Iris admitted that she'd once cut her hair short in a pixie cut years back—Felicia had eyed her meticulously straightened hair and pursed her lips. The brunette had laughed at her soulmate's expression before she shook her head. "Don't worry, I know it looked terrible on me. I plan on keeping it long from now on."

Felicia sipped her coffee as Iris finished putting everything in the pot and left the soup to cook as she moved over to sit on the edge of her bed, next to Felicia, as she took her own hot coffee back in hand. "So, have you gone to school? Any of you?" Iris asked once she'd gotten comfortable.

Felicia shrugged. "Kinda. I mean, we've taken some courses that would give us some advantages, but we don't have a diploma or a degree. We all have such different hobbies and likes, it would cost a fortune for us to all take something that we wanted. So, we took courses that would give us a leg up for a job. Like a business and management course. You?"

Iris shook her head immediately. "I love to learn, but everything I pick up is self-taught—except for some music lessons I paid for to get my footing. I love reading and I usually pick up whatever I want to know from that. Books are my favourite, but I'll get the odd ebook or online resource if I need to. I was so shocked when my bosses hired me on as a manager. I mean, I'd been there for a while but I'm sure they had more educated people they could've hired."

Felicia smiled in assurance as she bumped her soulmate's leg with her own. "Sometimes experience is better; I mean I'd rather have someone that had already been working for a while than someone straight out of school with no actual experience. It's unfortunate, but true."

Nodding in agreement, Iris tucked the soft strands of her straightened hair back behind her ear. It was so much silkier and easily fell in her face once it was straightened.

"Want me to braid that back?" Felicia offered once she'd spotted Iris do the same thing for a third time. She'd been trying to keep it out of her face desperately while she'd been cooking, but that had been a necessary thing; now, it seemed like it was beginning to bother her. After all, it wasn't something she usually had to deal with.

Iris flushed at being caught. "Oh, no, that's okay! It's just my curls usually stay where I put them-"

Felicia scoffed before she took both of their cups and placed them aside. "Relax, honey, I won't take it personally. Besides, I need some practice with braiding! Turn around, and scoot over here."

Knowing it was futile to argue, Iris turned her back to Felicia and pushed all of her hair over her shoulders. It worked out well, since Felicia was a bit taller than her while they were sitting and enabled her to see the top of Iris's head.

Beginning to section the beginning of the French Braid, Iris found herself once more leaning back into the gentle touches against her scalp. It was blissful and relaxing, causing her skin to prickle with sensitivity. She'd never thought that something as simple as someone stroking their fingers through her hair and along her scalp, a barely-there caress, would cause such a powerful and immediate reaction. Felicia hummed at the soft strands of Iris's hair, never touched with heat or chemicals to make it brittle or unhealthy.

"I love your hair," she sighed wistfully, wishing that she had hair like her soulmates. "You know I'm going to enjoy long hair vicariously through you, hm? If I'm in the light that day, you've gotta let me do your hair."

Iris just hummed in agreement as she leaned her hair back against Felicia's dextrous fingers, getting a giggle in response before she returned her concentration to making the braid even and straight.

The small apartment was beginning to smell strongly of vegetables and broth, a mouth-watering smell that made Felicia realize it had been a while since she'd—they'd—eaten something home-cooked. Patricia would sometimes make nice, fresh meals, but she wasn't in the light often enough for all of them to get the chance to eat the wonderful food.

"I haven't even tried that soup yet and my mouth is already watering," she admitted after a couple quiet minutes of silence, Iris continuing so sigh contentedly as Felicia took longer than necessary to do her hair. She was passed the base of Iris's skull now, meaning that the remainder of the braid didn't give her the excuse to stroke Iris's scalp or run her fingers through the soft strands near the roots.

"We also haven't eaten yet," Iris tried to explain, sounding sleepy.

"That's not why," Felicia argued. "It smells fantastic! I could have just stuffed myself with chocolate and whatever else and I promise you, I'd still be drooling over that smell. And debating whether a bowl would make me pop or not and if it's worth it."

"I need to stir it," Iris mumbled tiredly, her eyes closed as she basked in the sensation of her hair being played with for a second time that day. She had many years depraved of physical contact to catch up on.

Felicia tied off Iris's hair and gently guided her soulmate to lie down. "I'll keep an eye on the soup. Why don't you take a nap?"

Whiskey eyes opened to look up at her, a protest already on her lips, but Felicia gave her a look and lifted a finger to her lips in a gesture of silence. "Uh-uh, rest. Even if you slept well last night, you've got some catching up to do. Sleep!"

Fighting a smile as she nodded in defeat, Iris rolled onto her side, tucking her legs up from where they'd been hanging off the bed. Felicia snatched the throw that was folded up and placed along the middle of the bed, shaking it out, before she draped it over Iris's already-dozing form. The brunette's eyelids barely fluttered at the sensation of the blanket covering her, her relaxed state aiding her in falling asleep that much faster.

Felicia crouched next to the bed's edge as she watched her soulmate's peaceful expression, a blissful smile on her face as she thought over the past several hours since she'd woken with her soulmate in her arms, cradled against her chest. Barry was one lucky bastard to have Iris's love, but Felicia couldn't bring herself to be jealous when she knew that—in their unique way—she was Iris's as well.

The small woman's heart was almost too big, especially for someone who'd been put through so much in her younger years.

Brushing her bangs aside, Felicia leaned in a pressed a ghost of a kiss against Iris's pale forehead before she stood up and went to manage the steaming soup.

Previous || Next

[citriarchive]

i think nithvinn should go on archery dates. what au is this intended for? yes.

[wooahaes]

okay so the current official lineup for fake group because i've kinda got ideas spinning rn. positions are not 100% set when it comes to the secondary stuff (like lead rapper/lead vocal/etc for hosh + hao)

seungcheol - leader. main rapper.

hoshi: main dancer. lead rapper. sub vocal.

woozi: lead vocal. producer.

DK: main vocal.

the8: lead dancer. lead vocal. sub rapper.

@weird-bookworm suggested that i let y'all help me come up with a name and honestly i love the idea bc i love getting to collab with y'all in whatever way i can so please feel free to pitch names either in replies or in asks!!

i'm gonna keep using 'tempest' as a placeholder (so i can easily find + replace the word in my plans) in the meantime since its what i already have written down lol (thank u pl*dis for that ig). might make up a fake company for them as well...

[junonreactor]

hm

[kozzax]

I love soulmate aus. I love them so very much they bring incredible joy into my life, and because of this I've read a lot of them. Personally I always prefer to read soulmate aus with less common manifestations of soulmates-- the goose of soulmate enforcement, when you can hear what your soulmate sings, stuff like that. There's a lot of really interesting manifestations out there, and I've found that they fall into a couple categories.

The two big categories I like to put soulmqte aus in are active and passive. Which one a fic is in depends on how much the soulmate manifestation interacts with their day to day lives. A passive soulmate manifestation would be something like the ever-popular 'first words' soulmark, something that you know when you see it but doesn't really directly affect you outside of that [not that it can't affect you indirectly, through societal expectations and such]. An active soulmate manifestation, then, would be something like writing on one person's skin showing up on the other, something that transmits information between soulmates over time.

Personally, I've always found active soulmate aus to be far more interesting conceptually. While there can be really interesting uses of the passive soulmate au [for example, using the red string of fate as a stim before or after you find your partner and finding comfort in its presence], these typically depend on the characters to almost force their soulmate manifestations to take on an active role they weren't meant for. I think it's just generally more interesting if the soulmate part of a soulmate au has a heavier impact on the world and the characters than a passive soulmate manifestation generally allows for. First words soulmates often feel hollow to me, because they're typically just... getting together with one less step.

Anyways. I like soulmate aus and I always will.

[rozaceous]

i am tethered by the shackles of sasumari 😞… hakumari is cute, but i feel like there’s something that doesn’t connect quite the same for me. like sasumari feels like they understand each other really well and it’s almost private when u read their scenes, while hakumari’s dynamic reminds me of seeing people who are fwb interact. there is a lot of kinda shoujou romance worthy moments w mari sweeping haku off his feet, but i just really like sasumari :( i’m sorry

lol no need to be sorry! admittedly, i am intentionally upsetting the shipping waters (tho the ships are not the driving force of the fic, as such). i am just 😃 w everyone's opinions, pls know this.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

the temptation every day to just start posting my n+c fic even though it only has three chapters so far and i’ve changed my mind on a couple things so even they all need edited

[ba9go]

to fall in love with soulmate!bakugou katsuki

the soulmate au nobody ever asked for. in which red is your favourite colour, and also the colour of katsuki's eyes.

bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

you've always considered it one of your greatest blessings, being in class 1-a.

it's where you got to meet some of the brightest people at u.a. high. you were supported by amazing teachers and got to grow alongside the best classmates you could ever ask for; without 1-a, you wouldn't be half the pro-hero you were today.

but most of all, that's how you met your soulmate.

growing up, you never really believed in soulmates. you knew soulmarks existed. you've heard stories, of magically-appearing matching-coloured bands around the wrist and perfectly-synced unmatched chemistry between lovers simply destined for each other. it all sounded too good to be true.

you were 13 when your parents (who were "soulmates") decided to split after almost 20 years of marriage. you told yourself right there and then, that you would never live your life waiting for some magical moment, for the stars to align, for sparks to fly. what was the point?

you were 15 when you met your soulmate.

bakugou katsuki. when you first met him, he was loud, obnoxious, and absolutely unbearable. he was an egomaniac, an asshole to everybody. when you first locked eyes with his, you felt a burn sear across the skin of your wrist.

in the red of his eyes, you saw red. nevermind that red was your favourite colour — you were angry. angry that this guy just had to be your soulmate. your other half. but you also felt smug. smug that you were right, about soulmates meaning jackshit.

you couldn't read bakugou's expression. you didn't bother. you simply turned around and walked away.

you stopped by the nearest family mart and bought a concealer. you got back to your dorm room. seated on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, you finally allowed yourself to look down at your wrist.

again, you saw red — a single, braided cord tattooed around your wrist. of course, it had to be red. you dabbed at it with your newly-bought concealer until it was gone.

you don't miss the way bakugou stares at you, at your wrist, when you walk into class the next day. his eyes narrow, his face twists into a scowl, and you feel oddly satisfied.

but a soulmate isn't that easy to get rid of, apparently. especially when he's your classmate.

the moment you saw his quirk, you understood that bakugou katsuki was a force to be reckoned with.

bakugou katsuki was relentless. he was driven, ambitious, confident, and strong. and he only got stronger, and stronger. and you refused to fall behind him.

you couldn't take your eyes off him. you were afraid that if you blinked for even a fraction of a second, he'd go on without you and you'd miss out on his metamorphosis into a true hero.

into somebody you could actually love. and no, not just a fleeting love. a love that could last you a lifetime.

you don't take your eyes off bakugou katsuki. you watch him, furiously attentive with awe and fascination and spite. watching katsuki ignites something in you that you don't understand. well, not yet.

sometimes, your gaze flickers to katsuki's right wrist, to the red string wrapped around it, and your stomach twists at the reminder that bakugou katsuki was not just your rival; he was, in theory, the other half of your soul.

you continue denying this fact until bakugou forces you to face it.

after a particularly gruelling day of quirk training, you're completely spent. you're exhausted, hunched over the water cooler and taking mouthful after mouthful of water. when you stand back upright, your feet wobble and your knees buckle but you're steadied by a strong hand clasped on your shoulder.

you jerk at the touch, and you whip around to see bakugou katsuki standing next to you. you wrench yourself out of his hold and bakugou rolls his eyes at you.

"better not pass out," bakugou grumbles. "m'leavin' you and your beat-up ass here if you do."

"fuck off," you spit. "i don't need your help." you pass out as soon as you finish your sentence.

bakugou catches you and easily gathers your tired and bruised body in his arms. you wake up 3 hours later in recovery girl's office, with a pounding headache and, on the nightstand, a bottle of water and a box of aspirin.

you reach over to grab 2 pills and you realise that the concealer on your wrist has been smudged off. it's also then that you realise the brand-new concealer that's also on the nightstand.

the twist of your stomach is all too familiar, and it's then that you decide that you're done running away from your soulmate.

later, you find yourself knocking on his door. he opens the door after roughly 18 seconds of knocking and you're greeted with a gruff "fuck do you want" until he realises it's you, and he takes a step to the side to let you in.

you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, until he snorts, taking a seat on his bed and patting the spot next to him. you oblige.

it's quiet, and you realise you don't exactly know what to say. "thank you"? "i'm sorry"?

"so?" bakugou asks expectantly. "what, wrong brand of concealer?" he raises an eyebrow, somewhat amused.

you know he's joking, but you still flinch at his words.

"no, that's not it," you say, shaking your head quickly. "i just... well... i..." before you can stop yourself, you're crying.

bakugou catches on and offers you a tissue. you don't know why he's being so nice to you, but you mutter a quiet "sorry, thanks" and accept it anyway.

your hand brushes against his as you take the tissue, and you see the exact moment bakugou realises that for once, you don't have concealer applied to your wrist.

bakugou's frowning.

you don't know what you were expecting, showing up now at bakugou's room after ignoring him for most of the year and blatantly disregarding the fact that the two of you were soulmates. of course you should've known that he'd be upset.

"i'm sorry," you croaked. "for everything. i avoided you for so long, i was just so scared, i didn't know you back then and i wasn't ready to—"

bakugou holds your wrist so gently. you realise that he's still looking at the red band around your wrist, and your chest tightens at the uncharacteristically soft look in his eyes.

a small smile graces his lips, and it's like a weight is finally lifted off your shoulders because you finally get it.

bakugou katsuki is your soulmate.

"you're my soulmate," bakugou says simply, finally looking you in the eyes, and you know he's known all along but you can tell that he's sure of it now.

because you're sure of it now, too.

"you're my soulmate," you smile. you meet his gaze shyly, and as you stare into the red of his eyes you realise that red has always been your favourite colour.

i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this ❤️

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[butterymangowrites]

permanent fix

soulmate au + a/b/o

paring: alpha atsumu x fem beta reader

warnings: bullying, dub-con, atsumu is not nice, smut, slight breeding kink, biting, blood, choking, mirror sex, possessiveness, jealousy, alpha rut, atsumu talks shit, dramatic atsumu

word count: 2.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Born as a beta, you never thought fate would toy with you by giving an alpha as your soulmate. Especially not one like Miya Atsumu, the one whom you went to school through college with and still having to see his face ever so frequently as if he had sworn to never let you live in peace. 

For someone who made faces when seeing the lunchboxes your mom packed for you and proclaimed a beta was weak when you first presented at fifteen, Miya Atsumu couldn’t seem to detach himself from you. 

So when you had a crush on one of your colleagues at twenty five, having his nose in your business as usual, Atsumu knew instantly. 

“Another beta.” Lying comfortably on your couch, Atsumu scoffed. “Predictable.” 

“Didn’t ask for your opinions.” 

“I’m giving it anyway,” he said in a singsong voice, but his face was without mirth. “You can fuck whoever you want, but I’m getting my fix. That’s non-negotiable.”

Oh, yeah. His fix. 

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Then it all began again. Him cradling you in his lap, hands going all over, lips spilling hateful words. 

‘Weak fucking beta.’ He would say. ‘Even Osamu got an omega soulmate. Makes me jealous as fuck.’ 

But then he would kiss you like the world might end tomorrow, doing everything opposite of what he said. This time was no different. His hot tongue was everywhere he could reach, acquainted itself with yours before leaving a wet trail down your neck. 

You protested when he nipped a little too hard, scared he might leave marks. He did that once. The deep purple hickey you saw in the mirror after he left your apartment scared the shit out of you. A little more force and teeth could have broken the skin, and that thought caused chills to run all over your body. You didn’t want to bear his marks. 

Yet, Atsumu didn’t care. He never did. His hands were now on your buttocks, squeezing hard through your thin pajama bottoms. He moved you to one of his thighs for better concentration. The hands on your butt now rolled your hips back and forth, to the point your moan finally slipped out of your tightly zipped lips and you forgot about the harsh nibbling on your neck.

“Go whore yourself out,” Atsumu whispered. “Like I fucking care.”

Same here, asshole.

You thought, didn’t say out loud. 

Touching each other lifted the heavy weight in the heart caused by the act of not accepting the soulmate bond. Nothing more, nothing less. If not for this calling of intimacy both of you obliged to feel, he wouldn’t be here. You knew that. He said it way too many times. 

Still, your cheeks were licked, your lips were tasted, neck wet with saliva. You felt like a prey about to be eaten every time he was close. Yes, he may not care. But he sure was possessive enough of things that were given to him. 

Whenever you tried to wiggle out of his firm grasp, he tightened his fist. This time was the hardest you ever felt. 

—

In more than twenty years of knowing each other, never once did Atsumu come to you when he had gone into rut. So when he called you two in the morning one week after his last fix, ordered you to pack a bag and tell your boss you would be on leave for a week, you were baffled. It was never more than kisses and touches with him. Your clothes were always intact and on. The idea of that being changed had you flat out saying no. 

That didn’t stop Atsumu from coming to get you one hour later though. When he saw that you did nothing to get ready, his jaw was clenched. A split second later, he packed your bag himself, shoving clothes and toiletries in without any care. You were still in pajamas when the passenger door was slammed closed and he hit the gas. 

—

There were reasons why betas are not for alphas. Physically, they were incompatible. Betas weren’t designed for alpha’s stamina, not to mention one in rut. At one point, you did not care to count anymore how many times you had blacked out. Fading in and out really fucked with your memory. All you remembered was the non-stop pounding, Atsumu’s breath against your face, and his uncharacteristic cooing, praising you as his good girl. 

“Knew you were built for me.” The blond menace pulled on both of your wrists, never stopped his thrusting. “Let me knot you again, okay?” When you shook your head, face wet with tears, Atsumu shushed you softly. “Shhhhh. You can do it, I know you can.”

And you could. But it was not without pain. 

“Shouldn’t have waited this long,” Atsumu said close to your lips. “You almost got away.” 

He talked too much. But it would have been a big fat lie to deny that his words didn’t turn you on. That his vile confession didn’t affect you.

“Bold of you to even think I would let someone else touch you.” He sounded out of breath, closing to his end. “All the effort goes to waste. No no no no.” 

You felt it coming, just seconds before. Then your whole body was taken by the waves of thrills and your whole vision turned white. Atsumu was not your first, but as if he was the harbinger of agony, it hurt when he first penetrated, hurt when he knotted. And when you felt a sharp sting at your sensitive neck, you knew he defied the rule of nature once again by marking you. 

Fruitless. That was what it would be. Betas were not made for alphas. Mating bites did not forge any bond with the wrong person and would fade over time. But Atsumu had always been stubborn. One bite turned into two, three, then countless. All you felt was pain and the wetness of blood before darkness took your consciousness like the many rounds before. 

—

The mating bites faded within two weeks, all except the first mark, proving to you that even biology could not win over destiny. Same went with all other beta-alpha soulmate couples out there after you had done some research. They were rare, but they were there. You shouldn’t have let Atsumu bite you. Should have known better that things could get weird when it came to soulmates. Now, he wouldn’t get off your ass, had the audacity to move his things to your apartment and yours to his, calling you his girlfriend in front of everyone and expecting to see you at his games. 

You didn’t even like volleyball to begin with. And as you watched his magnificent tosses to any players he deemed to have high chances to score, you thought of a way to get out of his clutch. 

He needed an omega, the correct designation he always longed for. Because even with all the protective caresses and the promise to never let you go, Atsumu was still mean. Like going back to the ninth grade when you put makeup on for the first time and he gave you the nastiest comment that made you go wash everything off in the school toilet, his words still stung badly when he chose to weaponize them. 

‘Samu’s mate smells like she needs to be bred.’ He said that nonchalantly one day at Onigiri Miya, sitting side by side with you at the counter where his twin and his mate helped each other with cooking and serving the hungry athletes who were there to celebrate the day’s victory ‘Don’t know how he stands that. So sweet’ 

Hearing that made your conversation with Hinata pause. His steely gaze was the first thing you saw when turning to face ‘your boyfriend’. 

It didn’t end there. For days Atsumu was in a devilish mood, his jabs that you knew most of them were meant to just rile you up for fun had become a real emotional harm. He still fucked you, make no mistake about that. And it was as devilish as his temper. 

‘Too hard, Miya. Too hard.’ You still wouldn’t call him by his first name. 

Veiny hands wrapped snugly around your neck, Atsumu only went faster after hearing that. The bathroom mirror was foggy with hot steam from the shower, but you could see enough. One of your legs was perched on the counter, allowing the view of his cock pistoning in and out of you, your breasts bouncing fast. 

‘Would have been pregnant already if you were an omega.’ The sentence came out coated with his accent, thicker than normal, like he didn’t have full control of how he spoke. ‘But that’s alright. I can take my time with you. We’ll get there,’ he purred. ‘Still, what a shame, huh?’ 

Shame his ass for saying that and not letting you leave. ‘Go fuck an omega then.’

He smirked. Pissed you off. ‘Nah.’ 

As his toss to Sakusa scored a winning point, the loud cheer brought you back to the present. You saw Atsumu eyes staring up at you from the court below and knew what you had to do. 

—

Getting an omega who wanted to spend a heat with Miya Atsumu was easy enough. Sending her up to your apartment where he was already there waiting for you was as simple. You drove away then, not far, stopping at your favorite 24-hour cafe because you needed somewhere to sit and waited for the first feedback from the omega girl. Half an hour later, you got a call. 

The screen showed the female omega’s name. You picked up and said hello, expecting to hear that everything went well and that you could go find somewhere else to sleep for the next five nights.

But you only heard cries. Not of pleasure, just a full-blown crying with hiccups. 

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, frowning. “Talk to me. What happened?” 

“He—he screamed—at me,” she spluttered, almost incoherently, “and only asked where you were.” 

You cursed quietly, finally able to stop stirring the poor coffee you ordered without any interest in taking a sip. “Where is he now?” 

“I don’t know,” she cried. “He left—after the screaming.” Her voice wavered all the more when she kept on trying to speak. “You had to see him. He looked murderous. There was not even a hello. He straight up shouted at me, accusing me of breaking in. When I tried to explain—mentioned you, his face was all red.” A hiccup interrupted the long babbling. “He said he was married to you and showed me the ring.”

You were not sure what crack Atsumu was on, but there was definitely no ring or marriage. 

The call was still on when you heard the cafe’s door pushed open. And it was as if you saw the devil with your own naked eyes.

Atsumu walked in. 

His strides declared no peace or mercy when he saw you, ignoring the greetings from the two night shift baristas. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, you stood up, didn’t say anything when he put his hand on your shoulder and led the way out. 

The drive was silent. Your car was left at the parking lot near the cafe, you would have to come and get it as soon as you could before the parking fee turned as murderous as him. When asked where he was going, he answered solemnly, “My place. Yours stinks.” 

You just knew it was going to be a long night. 

—

Atsumu was the one who got the car out for you the next morning since he was the one who could still walk without wobbling. The sheets you slept on were rumpled. They reeked of cum. 

You reeked of cum. 

‘You think you’re so funny?’ he asked, knowing you couldn’t answer with his cock occupying your mouth but did it nonetheless ‘You wanted me to fuck her? What was going on in that pretty little head?’ 

He pulled you by the nape of your neck before pushing your head down, forcing your throat to take more of him till you felt the urge to gag. 

‘I thought we had an understanding, baby,’ he said, finally relenting his grip on your head. ‘No whoring yourself out.’ Then he stressed, ‘And no whoring me out. I’m yours.’

‘Do you understand?’ 

You only nodded.

‘Words.’ 

‘Yes, Miya.’ 

‘Atsumu,’ he said, looking like he wanted to throw up. ‘You’re not fucking my brother. Don’t make me imagine that. Call me Atsumu.’

‘Yes, Tsumu.’ 

Looked like you delivered. Atsumu grinned from ear to ear. ‘Good girl. My best girl.’ 

That was last night. 

A warm kiss to the cheek woke you again, must have dozed off after Atsumu left, but those scenes were not a dream. You heard him whisper, 

“I got your car. Parked it at your place.”

He looked like he got a ten-hour sleep while you could not move a limb without feeling sore. Not fair. And the way he looked so good in sheep’s clothing, his wolf’s skin all hidden. Not fair at all.

“Shower.” Your voice was hoarse, but you got the message through. That was good enough. 

[liveslivedinthemind]

It’s called Freefall Chapter 2

Summary: When you're born, the Universe has already decided who will be your soulmate by marking their first touch on your skin. Some of those soul marks are just a small fingerprint on their shoulder, or maybe a hand mark from a handshake. Some even have multiple, and it is never sure what kind of a bond you're destined to have with your soulmate. Alexandra Turner is a special case however, as her whole body is covered in marks. 24 to be exact. What she doesn't know that there's someone else out there with 24 marks who's waiting for her to bump into them.

Pairing: Original Female Character x Kevin Wendell Crumb/Dennis/Barry/the whole system

Fandom: Split

Word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Author’s note: Please feel free to let me know if I have messed something up or if you have any advice on how I can improve my writing. I hope you enjoy!

If you wish to be added to the taglist for this fic, let me know :)

                        »»————-　♡　————-««  

“No fucking way…”

Those words had just slipped out of Barry’s mouth as he looked at the woman behind him he had most likely just saved from falling on the stairs. A wide grin grew on his face as he stopped walking on the stairs and leaned against the handrailing. He had always been wondering how he’d meet his soulmate, daydreaming up all kinds of unexpected romantic encounters, yet the truth happened to be so simple. Something he never thought would happen with himself, it seemed so uncharacteristic to him yet so poetically fitting. Of course he’d meet them on his way to the place he so desperately hoped would help Kevin, soulmates were supposed to be the ones who would be a companion on one’s life journey. He took it as a sign from the Universe that this was a good thing, a sign that they were on the right path.

The smile on his lips slowly faded away though as he realized that his excitement was most definitely not matched. Alex looked horrified and all the blood had drained from her face as she just stared at the stranger in front of her. Her mind was running as fast as it could, trying to figure out what had just happened, what to say, how to stand, how to speak. And eventually, she could recognize only one thought - ‘Run… Run… I need to run!’

“I have to go, I just remembered that I… have to go.”

She whispered out, looking away from the man. She then quickly turned around and rushed down the stairs and immediately out of the building. The rain had picked up even more and the cold downpour was a welcomed guest to Alex as it cleared her mind just a little bit. She made her way down the street, dodging the people and making sure she didn’t stick out in the crowd. She needed a place to hide herself for just a moment, a tucked away alley or something where she could catch her breath and collect herself. 

Taking a turn to her right, she finally leaned against the wall of what seemed to be a small apartment complex. Her lungs were struggling to calm themselves from both the shock of sudden rushing, and from meeting someone she didn’t think she would ever meet. Her fingers gently rested on her shoulder where his mark was located, the rain creating some white noise for her to just disappear from the world a little bit. Alex just wanted to exist as no one for a moment, give herself that peace of not having to deal with anything. 

Rain fell onto her face and the wind turned her cheeks a bright shade of red but she didn’t notice anything around her. Alex felt her breath calming down to the point where she spent more time in a state of holding her breath than she did actively breathing. This allowed her to very slowly return to reality and she looked up at the sky, allowing the drops to coat her entire face as she tried to go over everything that had happened in the past couple of minutes of her life.

Alex had met one of her soulmates, there was no denying that. She didn’t even catch his name or a good look of his face but from what she could remember, he was a force to be reckoned with. He had a big muscular frame, even though it was hidden by the baggy coat and jeans. He was fashionable, she couldn’t deny that, and the beanie he wore gave her a youthful image. Much younger than his face portrayed, and she had a feeling that underneath the hat, he was fully shaven. And his eyes had been so kind, especially when he had realized that she was his soulmate. She could have sworn she saw them sparkle for a second. 

But Alex couldn’t go back to him, she didn’t want to pass on the pain that he’d have to share her with 23 other people who were still somewhere out there. There were rumors of what happened to those who ignored the connection between soulmates, but she was certain that it must be a lot smaller compared to the agony of someone having to be together with such an attention whore as herself. Alex just couldn’t risk seeing the disappointment of the man’s face. 

With a soft sigh of a held breath leaving her lips, Alex pushed herself to stand from the wall and took out her phone. She sent Doctor Fletcher a short email, saying that she unfortunately has to cancel her appointment and to let her know if she would need to pay for any kind of fee for a no-show since she did cancel at such a short notice. Tension was rising in her body as she knew it was not the most polite thing to do but she couldn’t risk seeing that man once again. She’d just find a new therapist somewhere far away from this place, maybe she could try online therapy instead. 

While pulling her headphones out of her bag, she put them on and turned back onto the busy street. Alex could feel an emptiness in her chest and it was weighing her down, but she just kept walking in the opposite direction to the good doctor’s office. The tears were stinging her eyes, but she just excused it to herself as it was a result of the rain and wind irritating them. It was easier that way for her to accept what she had chosen to do. It was always easier for her to just continue to exist in her current state than to risk any changes.

It was made clear to her that the Universe had other plans for her however because the first person she saw when she finally looked up from her shoes was that man. Her soulmate. It was clear he had been running from his ragged breathing and red face. He smiled at her though and tried to catch his breath as he spoke up,

“There you are, I’ve been running up and down the street like a loon.”

His voice was filled with happiness and the smile on his face never dropped as he swallowed and let out a final big breath. Alex looked up at him, unable to say anything, because the glimmer in his eyes made her heart and stomach erupt into millions of tiny yellow butterflies. She bit her bottom lip hard to make sure she wouldn’t smile back as the man finally introduced himself.

“I’m Barry by the way, and you have no idea how hard I’ve tried to find you.”

‘Barry… sounds cheerful.’

Alex thought to herself before she softly whispered,

“I’m Alex. I…”

She trailed off, unable to actually say that she thought it would be best for them to part ways out loud. No one knew of her numerous soul marks, she was sure even her parents had forgotten the full amount, and part of her had always thought she wouldn’t meet even one of them so she never really thought about how she’d tell them about it. Luckily for her, Barry spoke up once again.

“Listen, I’ve got a feeling we need to talk about some things because I’ve got a couple more marks on me.”

He said those words with such ease as if they were talking about the weather. Alex’s eyes widened and her breath got caught in her chest - he had more marks too? How many did he have? It possibly couldn’t be as many as she did. So many questions ran through her head and she was getting so overwhelmed that she had to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep herself grounded in the moment. She knew she had to say something, anything, but the best she could do was nod. It was as if her mind and body were refusing her to open her mouth.

Barry could see the amount of anxiety and tension coursing through Alex’s veins and he let out a sad chuckle before he tilted his head and said softly,

“Come, I know a quiet place and don’t worry about Doctor Fletcher. I mentioned to her what happened and she’s more than happy to reschedule with you.”

He somehow had an inkling that Alex would worry about her session and whether or not it would be rescheduled on time so he made sure to run up to his therapist’s office first and give her a short summary of what had happened before he ran after her. It looked like it was the right move on his side as Alex gave him a soft smile and another nod. 

He motioned her to follow him, knowing it would be a bit too forward of him to put his arm around her at that moment. Alex started to walk half a step behind him, still unable to speak, but something in her chest was slowly blooming. Like the first snowdrop popping its head through the cold ground as the first sign of spring. 

< Chapter 1                                                      Chapter 3 >

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Taglist: @royaltysuite

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 20 || Cinnamon and Whiskey

Words: 3200+

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, Trauma

Previous || Next

~20~

Iris was accustomed to waking up alone—when living on the streets, it had been a blessing, and when living by herself it was expected. However, since meeting Barry she had many mornings that she had woken with one of her soulmates. The sensation of her head rising and falling with the elevation of a chest as her soulmate breathed deeply with sleep, it was somehow intimate and familiar after so short a time.

Barely awake, Iris was unable to fight the yawn that had her tipping her head back and away from her soulmate's chest—she ended up resting her head in the cradle of his arm instead, letting her cheek rest against his pec muscle.

Still breathing deeply, the arm around her shoulders drew in and brought her closer. Sighing in contentment as she gratefully accepted the embrace, Iris slipped her arm over his stomach to return the hold. She could feel him move before gentle breaths shuffled her hair and his nose buried in the crown of her hair.

Taking a deep breath when she felt another yawn coming forward, her brain woke abruptly—cutting off the yawn before it could start—when she realized she was not lying on Barry. His smell was familiar to her now, especially since she was sleeping in his bed, but the person that was letting her use them as a pillow smelled different. There was more of a spice to their scent, like cinnamon and something she couldn't put her finger on.

Opening her eyes, the room still as dark as it had been when she fell asleep, Iris carefully lifted her head so as not to bump his nose as she turned to look at the newest face. The light from the hall lit his face enough for her to see his eyes were open, but not enough to take in the minute changes that occurred in each of her soulmate's expressions.

Silence stretched between them as Iris met his gaze, feeling the halt of his breath when he realized she was aware of a new identity being in the light. Barry had confessed that the others she had met were surprised at how easily she could tell them apart, but there were only a few that she needed to distinguish between so far.

Letting a smile warm her expression, Iris dropped her chin to rest on his—or her?—collar bone as she continued to gaze up at the soft blue eyes watching her. "You smell like cinnamon," she declared gently.

A full, boisterous laugh broke from her soulmate as his head tipped back. She was shaken alongside his laugh as his body shook and rocked beneath her hold, causing her to smile wider. "Cinnamon?" a feminine lilt responded. "I hope you like cinnamon."

A woman. The thought warmed Iris, knowing that she was meeting more of the female personalities within her soulmate's body. "I love cinnamon," she assured. "Good morning," she added a moment later, shifting to prop herself up on one elbow.

"Good morning," the alter responded, shifting to mirror her position so they were lying on their sides, facing one another. "My name's Felicia, by the way. I'm so happy to finally meet you, Iris." Reaching forward, she carefully swept some of the light-brown hair from Iris's face, letting her see the entirety of her soulmate's pale face. "Interesting choice of soulmark, too."

Iris let out a breathy laugh as she ducked her head, suddenly bashful of her choice in words. "I felt it was better than the generic 'Good morning' that I could have said. It's unique, right?"

Felicia laughed again, nodding in agreement. "Barry told us what happened. How are you feeling?" With the hand she had used to sweep aside her hair, Felicia stroked the soft skin of Iris's cheek as she carefully examined her expression for any changes upon mentioning the incident from the day before. "Sleep well?"

"I did, thank you. And I'm alright. It's kind of a blur now, I guess from the adrenaline of everything."

Nodding in understanding, the newest alter sighed faintly. "We felt your fear—well, the others who've met you felt it strongest but because Barry was in the light, we all kind of felt it alongside him. I hate that you had to go through that."

Iris carefully took the hand from her cheek to cradle in her smaller palm, letting her fingertips dance across the skin—it felt softer than Barry's hands usually did. "I'm alright, now. It does scare me to think who could have done that, but…I have you guys, so it's easier to bear."

Smiling again, Felicia reclaimed her hand and leaned forward to take Iris in a hug. It baffled her to feel how thin her soulmate actually is, especially when Iris returned her embrace and wrapped a thin arm around her waist. She'd noticed it when she felt Iris before she woke, but it was a shocking difference between their physical bodies. "So, breakfast?" Felicia proposed while leaning back to take in Iris's shadowed face. She regretted how dark the room was when meeting Iris for the first time, but it wasn't often the other soulmate would be able to say they woke up to Iris in their arms for their initial meeting.

"I have to go to the police station to sign my statement; want to get something on the way?"

"Totally!" Felicia agreed, then proceeded to leap out of Barry's bed and almost rush for the door. Iris sat up and watched her nearly trip as she came to an abrupt stop and spun back to face her. "Uhm…I could lend you something to wear, but…"

Iris waved her off with a smile, then motioned over to her clothing from the day before. "It's okay, my clothes from yesterday will be fine. We can go back to my apartment after, though, and I can show you where I live?"

"Yes! Okay, be right back!"

Iris laughed quietly to herself as the other woman disappeared, still wearing Barry's sleep clothes. Shuffling out of the warm bed, Iris shivered in the cool air from the underground tunnels. It made her reluctant to take off Barry's clothes, warm as they were. However, she couldn't very-well leave for the station in oversized sweats.

Slipping back into her own pants, she stopped short of pulling off the sleep shirt. It was plane black, nothing to signify that it was a sleep shirt. And she knew that women wore their soulmate's clothes all the time, so it wasn't that out of the ordinary, right? Pulling the collar up to her nose, she inhaled Barry's smell delicately.

She loves him. She told him she loves him. A smile brightened her expression without conscious thought, her heart beginning to speed up in her chest. He'd kissed her.

"If that's not the look of a woman in love, then I'm blind," Felicia said from the doorway, having changed from Barry's clothes and carrying them over one arm. Iris's cheeks immediately warmed in a blush as she dropped the collar of his shirt and turned to pick up her coat. Making a split decision, she left her shirt folded on the chair and wore the shirt he had given to her. "Awe, come on! You gotta tell me what happened! Barry was grinning like a right fool, too."

Glancing over her shoulder as she twisted her hair up to put in a bun, Iris couldn't supress the giddy feeling that overwhelmed her core. "Really?" she finally asked, sounding so meek and bashful.

Felicia laughed as she entered the room, dropping Barry's sleep clothes on the bed before she plunked herself down.

She had changed into a pair of black skinny jeans, fitting quite well on the male frame of Kevin's body, and an azure button-up that brought out the beautiful blue of her eyes. "Fell asleep grinning, he did. And I want to know why."

Again, Iris ducked her head to hide her face as she used her hair-tie to secure the mussed up bun that she had created. "I love him," she mumbled finally, refusing to look back at Felicia. She'd only just met this woman, yet she felt as though she could tell her anything.

"Yes!" Felicia screamed, throwing her arms up before clapping excitedly. "I knew it! I so called it! Well, how'd you tell him? Was it when he came to get you? Did he sweep in like a knight in shining armor? Wait, we're talking about Barry," she halted, doubling back when she remembered which soulmate Iris had confessed to.

Gasping, Iris turned to gap at Felicia. "Be nice!"

"What? I mean, don't get me wrong, Barry's awesome but he'd not the 'sweep you off your feet' kinda guy."

Shaking her head, Iris moved to sit on the edge of his desk chair, avoiding the shirt she had left there. "He might surprise you," she argued. "Barry...he's safety. To me. I feel safe with all of you, but there's something about being with him that makes me feel invincible. Like nothing can touch me when he's around," she explained quietly, unable to stop smiling as she remembered how she had felt when he held her in his arms.

"So, what happened?" Felicia asked more calmly this time, leaning forward with intrigue.

Covering her flaming cheeks, Iris looked away for a moment to collect herself. "An officer dropped us off at the gate, and I was assuring him that no matter what it looked like down here, that I would love it. That there's nothing wrong with living somewhere a bit different. He called me perfect, even when I just…brushed it off the first time, he insisted." Felicia smiled softly as she watched Iris's expressions play out alongside her story. "So…I told him I loved him, and he said he loved me, too."

"Awww," Felicia cooed, understanding Barry's behaviour better now.

Knowing that she couldn't leave it at that, Iris took a deep breath before confessing, "He kissed me."

Felicia tried very hard to stay quiet, not wanting to startle the woman away, but a squeal of excitement still escaped as she wiggled happily on the bed. "Oh, go Barry! I didn't think he had it in him."

"Felicia!" Iris scolded again, but laughter lightened her tone.

Standing up, Felicia surged forward to catch Iris's hands. "We're not done talking about this; you can tell me every detail while I do your hair and makeup."

Iris didn't even have a chance to protest as she was tugged out of her other soulmate's bedroom, barely remembering to catch the light switch on their way out.

Barry's thing was art—drawing and designing clothes to be specific—but it seemed that Felicia's was the art of makeup. The others didn't like the makeup on their skin, or what it did to their skin, so she didn't actually get the chance to practice her talents. Iris wasn't a huge fan of makeup, mostly because she never took the time to learn how to apply it properly, so she was baffled by all of the things that Felicia lined up on the counter to use.

Iris was considerably paler than her, however, so she wasn't able to use the creams and powders for her face. Instead, she spent the time working on making her whiskey eyes—already absolutely gorgeous, in Felicia's opinion—pop and stand out.

"How did you learn all of this?" Iris asked as she sat with her eyes closed, letting Felicia work some colour into her eyelids with a gentle touch. She could barely feel the brush across her skin.

"The wonders of Youtube, darling. I'm Queen of Youtube."

Iris smiled at Felicia's positive attitude, relieved to have someone with her that wasn't weighed down on remembering the attack on the store yesterday. She was already going to have to dredge up what happened to the police, so she really didn't want to spend her time with her soulmate doing the same. "Have you ever thought of making your own channel? Doing videos?"

Felicia hummed softly in thought as she continued to work, tipping Iris's chin upward to get a different angle. "Sometimes I think about it now and then, but…I've watched other videos that are-" she paused, trying to find the right word, "Similar. People don't react very kindly."

"Similar?" Iris repeated, the word mumbled when she tried not to move her jaw against Felicia's hand. When she felt the brush leave her eyelid, she opened her eyes to meet Felicia's saddened blue gaze. "Do you mean because of your body?" she asked carefully, not wanting to upset.

Instead of answering, Felicia looked away and shifted her body with the pretense of collecting more colour on the brush she was using. Frowning sadly, Iris reached out to gently lay her palm on her soulmate's arm. The warm touch brought her blue gaze back to Iris, who offered a small, encouraging smile.

"You're beautiful, Felicia. You all have something unique to yourselves, even if you share the same body." Reaching up, she gently caressed a thumb beneath her eyes, where her other soulmates' skin never quite felt as smooth. "I can't say I fully understand how it works, but I do believe that each of you have your own unique differences each time you…take the light." She had heard them speak of the experience a couple of times and was trying to use familiar terms. "You smell different, and your skin seems so much…softer. You have gentle eyes, like they were meant to go with a smile. Patricia's look more motherly, and BT's come across a bit intimidating. Yours…they're soft."

Looking into her eyes already, Iris could see the welling of moisture as she spoke. Felicia tried to blink away the collecting tears, filled with emotion, as she licked her lips shyly. Cupping her soulmates cheeks, Iris leaned forward as Felicia closed her eyes. Pressing soft kisses to each lid, void of makeup, she pulled away once she felt the muscles in Felicia's jaw relax.

"You're beautiful, and those who can't see that are blinded to a wonderful, unique reality that I get to live with every day. If you want to make a Youtube channel, I think you should. You can even disable the comments on it. However, I think that what others have to say—good or bad—is superficial to what matters to you. Any video you make isn't for the likes or the comments; it's because you want to show the world something you love."

The gentle tears that had been building up couldn't be stopped any longer, spilling over as her soulmate let out a shaky breath and leaned into Iris's hands more fully. She leaned forward to kiss the tears away, understanding the emotion that Felicia was feeling.

She was worried that people would lash out at her for being in a man's body. Iris had heard of people reacting to men on the internet who loved makeup, and created tutorials for others to watch. It broke her heart to hear how people reacted sometimes. Just as she had thought hiding her marks would keep her safe from physical and emotional harm, Felicia was hesitating to take the chance by putting herself out for the world to see.

"Don't let simple-minded people try and stop you," she encouraged gently. Pulling away from her slowly, Felicia opened her eyes to see what Iris was doing. She watched, entranced, as Iris carefully rolled up the sleeves of Barry's shirt to expose the various marks along her arms—black and silver—that belonged to the other alters in Kevin's body.

Felicia exhaled in awe as she took in the different styles of writing, all so familiar to her, with the scars of Iris's past abuse marring some of them.

"The thought of people seeing these used to terrify me, because I knew I was different and it would be hard for others to accept. Now, I realize that there are only twenty-three people that really matter." Smiling brightly, Iris clasped Felicia's hands and squeezed them tightly in her small fingers. "There's going to be people who don't understand, but they're not important."

Nodding along, Felicia couldn't stop crying as she returned the tight hold that iris had on her hands. "Thank you, Gorgeous. I really needed to hear that." She released Iris's hands one to wrap her in an embrace, inhaling the soft scent of her soulmate's hair. It felt like silk again her cheek, coaxing her to touch it. She really wanted to style the beautiful strands, caught between dark chocolate and liquid gold.

When she pulled back, she framed Iris's face between her hands and gave a vibrant smile. Her makeup was incomplete, only the light touches of powder on either eyelid enhancing the colour of her eyes. She could see the beginnings of moisture collecting in the beautiful whiskey of her eyes and immediately began fanning her face gently.

"Don't you dare! I worked hard on those eyes," she scolded playfully, sniffling at the end as Iris sobbed a laugh.

"Okay, okay, no tears," she agreed, tipping her head back so as to prevent any more moisture from building.

Iris used one of the tissues close at hand to wipe Felicia's tears away before they resumed their focus on finishing her makeup. "So, if I make a channel, will you be my model for some of the videos?" Felicia asked after a brief pause in conversation, beginning to line above Iris's lashes with a thin flick of black eyeliner.

"I'd be happy to," Iris responded immediately, warmed at the thought of Felicia pursuing something that she loved.

They changed the conversation to lighter topics as Felicia finished with her makeup and moved on to doing her hair, marvelling at the soft strands as she debated on whether she wanted to curl them or straighten them. "I wonder how long this would be if I straightened it," she pondered, raking her fingers gently through the long strands.

"I don't think I've ever straightened it before. And it has been a while since I cut it," Iris responded in a daze. The feeling of someone running their fingers through her hair was sending shivers all down her spine. Felicia grinned coyly when she noticed Iris's focus was lacking and began massaging her soulmate's scalp gently. Iris nearly purred at the feeling as she unconsciously leaned back into her touch.

"I think I'll straighten it," Felicia decided to herself, raking fingers along Iris's skull gently before she carded the locks through her fingers. It was mostly curly, with a slightly crimped appearance because of the braid that it had been bound in the day before.

Iris hummed in acknowledgement but didn't respond, letting her head be tipped this way and that as she relaxed into the playful hands in her hair.

It dawned on Felicia after a moment that Iris probably never had nice experiences with her hair—at least not like most girls did. She doubted that her mother had lovingly brushed her hair in the morning or before bed, or styled it before she went off to school. It was most likely the opposite, using her hair to pull her this way or that. It broke Felicia heart to know that they had both been deprived of something so basic.

"Just relax, Gorgeous, and let me take care of you."

Previous || Next

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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[star-sim]

supermassive blackhole ☆ jay park pt. 1

☆ non-idol! spiderman! jay x fem!reader

☆ summary: You and Jay Park couldn't stand each other. But after a drunk makeout session at your university's annual soccer mixer, combined with Jay's secret identity as the city's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the two of you are pushed closer to each other than ever, challenging your long-time status as 'enemies.'

☆genre: enemies to lovers, suggestive but no nsfw/smut, angst, fluff, spiderman! au, college! au, so incredibly american HELP, reader has glasses bc it's cute and jay has a lip piercing bc i said so

☆ warning(s) ? many mentions and instances of alcohol (all characters are of age) , this is very suggestive but there is no smut

☆ word count:  13.7k

☆ a/n: my dumbass didn't factor in character block limit when i wrote this shit so i'm gonna split this fic up into two parts... sorry guys :( lmk if you want me to tag you in part 2, also this has a diff style so lmk how we feel abt it 😇

part 2

“Oh, thank you so much, Spider-Man!”

It was a warm spring evening, and Spider-Man had been on his evening city patrol. When he found a little old lady calling for help, who was he to refuse her? Her cat had been stuck in a tree, and she needed someone to help her. Hopping up on the tree, he safely retrieved the ball of fluff.

“Of course, Ma’am,” the superhero chuckled. If only she could see him through his mask, he would be grinning. “Get home safely.”

Watching the little lady’s retreating back, Spider-Man shot a web to the top of a building, and hoisted himself up into the air.

On late-spring nights like this, it was peaceful. He liked the breeze that hit his masked face as he swung from building to building. Around this time, rush hour would be beginning, and all the university students would be getting out. Speaking of…

Peeking over a billboard, Spider-Man peered down to the university campus. His own university campus.

There was no reason in particular for this, but he liked to watch the university around evening time. Most people were beginning their commute home or to the dorms, but campus crime was not rare at all. It could be small offenses like graffiti or theft, but he would prefer those types of things to just not exist at all at a place like the university. And, he just liked to check up on his friends or people he knew, to make sure they were getting home safely.

His eyes narrowed at a familiar figure that made its way across campus. Even from a tall building, he could recognize that head. His jaw clenched, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip before shooting another web and slinging away.

By the time it was fully dark out, Spider-Man had finished his night patrol. 

Sitting on the roof of his apartment complex, he didn’t quite want to go in yet. He liked freedom: the physical freedom yielded from spider-like abilities– practically flying through the air– and the social freedom of anonymity. Leaning back on his palms, Spider-Man took a deep breath.

The clouds were beginning to clear up because of the weather, so the moon and stars were extra visible tonight. Clothed fingers creeped up to his neck, carefully pulling up the red mask that covered his face.

He was lucky that no one else casually sat on top of apartment complexes, or else his identity would be revealed.

Jay Park.

The moonlight glimmered on his honey-gold tan skin. The night breeze was cool, kissing his hot cheeks. He ran a hand through his tousled coal-ebony hair, letting his sweaty forehead that had been covered for hours air out.

Truth be told, he was a tad exhausted. It’s not common for the safety of a city to lie on the shoulders of a struggling university student like himself. Throwing his head back and letting dark locks fall over his eyebrows, he let out a huff.

Shit, there’s a party tomorrow.

Everyone liked to boast about the idea of soulmates. 

The idea that fate existed as the binding force that drew lovers of all disparate backgrounds together was prolific, pervading in all parts of history. From severed limbs that shared the same primordial origin, to congenital tattoos containing initials, to even timers that counted down every second until meeting, the concept of soulmates has been longed for, craved for, lusted for- for centuries.

Unfortunately, for you, the notion that everyone had an innate and pre-destined lover was a tad ridiculous.

There was no way that you could believe in soulmates.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

But you did believe in natural enemies.

“I can ask you the same thing, Park.”

Tonight was the soccer team mixer, an end-of-the-year party that the university’s team hosted to celebrate yet another exciting school year. Courtesy of your friends, you and your thick-ass glasses ended up attending. 

Tonight was supposed to be a nice night. It really was. Junior year of university was a stressful one, and you were more than ready to party all your worries away: you figured that you earned it. 

Much to your misfortune, though, there was someone else that decided to attend: the most insufferable, loud, and obnoxious person to ever exist, Jay Park.

There were several reasons to despise him and his funky, tousled hair. He was loud, rowdy, fiery, rambunctious, unruly, uncouth, uncivilized, hot-headed, talked way too much, had no sense of volume, and in your very personal opinion, just sucked. And, apparently, he was a total freak. He would show up to parties and socials, cause a ruckus with his presence, and then randomly disappear. He stood weirdly, and his mannerisms were just strange.

If you could go back and change history, you would have never allowed yourself to even meet such a person. Unfortunately, you two had intersecting friend groups and many mutual friends; there was no avoiding him given your social circles.

It started back in freshman year of highschool. The two of you were sat next to each other on the first day of fourth period English Honors. Your teacher must have seen something that you didn’t, because it was almost impossible for you to even talk to each other. Jay, the pubescent boy he was, would crack a few jokes. You, though, would stare at him vacantly, as if you were expecting him to add on. 

“Can you stop talking?” you asked him once. “Your jokes aren’t funny.”

You had meant it in a helpful way.

“If you want to make it funnier, maybe have a set-up and punchline? Your jokes don’t land.”

Really.

You were genuinely trying to be helpful. 

The only issue was that, like everyone else in the world, Jay didn’t take that well.

From then until the second quarter, you and Jay would only talk to each other if specifically asked to. You would turn around to the girl that sat behind you, and Jay would talk to the guy that sat diagonally in front of him. And when you guys did speak Jay would be unnecessarily dry, and in response, you would get irritated and snap at him.

When you finally moved seats next quarter, you still managed to see each other around. Too much. Your only interactions were limited to a few judgy glances, and occasionally, glares.

During the fourth quarter, Jay made an attempt to mend your relationship when you guys were placed adjacent to each other again. 

Except, now it was your turn to be offended. 

“Hey, I know I was a dick and you were a bitch, but-”

“I was a bitch?”

You’d kick his chair in class, and when the two of you were inevitably forced to talk, it’d be short and curt.

Truly, it was the summer of freshman year that really catapulted your relationship into what it was today. 

When you hung out with your friends over the summer, Jay was always (and truly, always) there. 

Initially, it was awkward.

But when you learned that Jay liked the same band as you– Muse– you thought that you could finally put your terse relationship to an end. 

“You listen to Muse?” You had tapped his shoulder one day at the beach. He was hunched over, listening to his music with earphones jammed into his ears peacefully. He looked bemused, cocking a brow at you.

It must have been the way that you said it. Poor, slightly socially-inept you, who, up until that point, couldn’t control your tone of voice. It was no surprise that Jay thought you were making fun of him.

Brusquely standing up, he snatched his earbuds up to go somewhere [Name]-free, grumbling something under his breath.

From then on, you two rarely got along.

“Something about his face pisses me off.”

“I don’t like how she says things.”

“He makes me so angry for some reason.”

“She’s a total nerdo freak.”

“I need to fight him.”

“I need to fight her.”

For the first two years of high school, there was non-stop bickering. Not necessarily malicious in intent, but it was clear that neither of you liked each other.

The closest thing to a “friendship” that the two of you formed was during the second semester of sophomore year, when your friend started liking his friend, and vice versa.

Both of you were getting tired of seeing your friends so cluelessly in love with each other, so you and Jay joined forces to push them together. Secret in-class texting, after-school discussions, shared knowing looks, and when they finally got together on the last day of school, a perfectly-timed fist-bump. As much as you’d hate to admit it, you and Jay Park made a wonderful team.

After that, you were just on your way to becoming great friends. Obviously, not as close as other friends, but it was undoubted that you had incredible potential to become very good friends.

Until one midsummer night.

“You knew that Taehyun Kang was cheating on Isa– with the girl that he swore up and down she shouldn't worry about– and said nothing?” 

It was a difficult night. Especially when you had to console a weeping friend on one call and yell at Jay Park on the other. 

“He’s my best friend, too,” was all Jay had said.

“And?” You had been incredulous. “Taehyun’s been making googly-eyes at that girl since way before he got with Isa! You knew. You’ve known this entire time and you still-”

“I didn’t know.”

You remembered the anger that began to bubble inside of you. You had spent the past few weeks trying to fix your aggression issues, because it was Jay that told you about your first interaction that got you guys off on the wrong foot. But now, you really couldn’t suppress it.

“Yes you fucking did!” you yelled over the phone. “I know you did. Don’t try to pull this shit on me, Jay.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’ve known this entire time, and you didn’t say anything.”

He had huffed over the phone, grumbling something incoherent. “I didn’t know until a few days before school ended.”

“A few days before school ended?--” You had sunken your teeth into your bottom lip, for the anger that was just beginning to heat up was now rising to a boil– “That was a few days before they got together! You had time to say something– but you didn’t.”

“What did you want me to do?” Jay was now getting angry. “You wanted me to speak up and ruin everything?”

“You could have. You should have. But you didn’t.”

“It’s not my responsibility, [Name]. It’s not your or my responsibility.”

The boiling anger was now seething. “Yes, it fucking was!”

“No, it wasn-”

If Jay could have seen your face over the phone, it would have been twisted with both disbelief and indignation.

“When you and I teamed up to get Taehyun and Isa together,” you asserted through clenched teeth, “there were some things we took responsibility for. And when they got together, we had the responsibility to be good friends. Good fucking people, Park! You–”

You had to take a few moments to breathe. “You had the power– You had the knowledge that your best friend was a cheating bastard that would– You know what? You’re just like him. You could’ve been a normal fucking person and did things the right way, but you lack responsibility and basic intelligence to do so.”

Through the course of that messy break-up, a few more screaming matches between you and Jay came about. Really, it should have been an argument for your friends to have, but you and Jay had had enough of each other. The floodgate that had held your relationship finally broke.

For the rest of your high school years, every interaction would just be blows at each other. It started as subtle, harmless jabs. But over time, those jabs became hostile. Petty actions, like light shoves or stealing pens, evolved into spiteful and calculated attacks, such as purposefully tripping the other or intentionally cutting the other out of a group photo.

Eventually, your friends made up and the break-up rift was resolved, but not you and Jay’s rocky relationship. 

The horror you and Jay must have felt when you found out you were going to the same university.

At the present, pushing up the metal-framed glasses that delicately laid on your nose, you could feel Jay’s dark eyes boring into you. Giving him a once-over, your nose scrunched. Once again, you’re reminded of why you could not stand this guy.

Tonight was a soccer mixer. A college mixer. Looking around, everyone was dressed as if they were college students at a college party. Because that’s what they were.

Girls, including yourself, wore small dresses and short skirts with plunging necklines and fat, wedged heels. They did their hair in all kinds of elaborate styles– you tied your hair into a half-down-half-up style. The guys wore ripped jeans, form-fitting button-ups, leather jackets, and if you were a soccer player, the iconic soccer team jacket- but really anything that was casual and easy to move in.

Jay Park, on the other hand, swore a deep-green hoodie with ripped jeans, like the uncultured villain he was.

Okay, maybe you were being biased.

A few of your friends did come in wearing hoodies and ripped jeans, and you did, in fact, come through the door of this frat house with an oversized hoodie draped over your shoulders. But, the difference was that this was Jay Park. Everything that he did was uncultured and barbaric.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” you remarked, glaring up at him through your lashes. You were on your way to grab a few drinks for your friends in the kitchen when you bumped into none other than Jay Park. “You hang around Jake Sim, I hang around Jake Sim. Use your critical thinking.”

Jake Sim was a mutual friend between you and Jay, who just so happened to be on the university’s soccer team. Great guy, but the only thing that you would complain about was the fact that every time you hung out with him, you would inevitably meet Jay.

Jay scoffed. “Didn’t think a prude like you would actually show up to a party like this.”

“Prude?” Of all times to be calling you prude, it really shouldn’t be now, when you were wearing possibly the shortest and tightest dress with the most risque neckline that you’ve ever worn in your entire life. Those thin spaghetti straps were not doing you any justice. And especially because you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes would linger around your silhouette. “Who’s the one who hasn’t been laid in months? Who’s the one with the worst box-dyed hair on the entire campus? Who’s the one that lacks any social awareness and says the most uncomfortable shit in a voice at 260 fucking decibels? Who randomly disappears? Who moves around like a goddamn insect?”

“That’s not even fucking true!” The man waved his hands in front of himself defensively. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“I’m annoying? You’re the creep that follows me around everywhere.”

“You said it yourself! We have a mutual friend so we always end up-”

“Yeah, but I get the feeling that we end up in the same places because you choose to follow me-”

“I can assure you that no one wants to follow your nerdo freak ass-”

“Oh wow! How creative. You’ve been calling me that since we were fourteen–”

“Because that’s what you are! A nerdo freak that can’t do shit–”

“Why are you even here? You always have that job that you leave to-”

“Hey, hey, hey, party people!” a new voice interjected. 

Jake Sim, your mutual friend, with sleek sunglasses resting on his nose and a beer in his hand, suddenly appeared between your arguing bodies, throwing an arm around each of you.

“Jakey!” you exclaimed.

“‘Sup.” Jake was a suave guy, not a wonder that so many people liked him. “What were the two of you talking about? Looked like you were having fun!”

Jay cringed, his lips curling. Of all words, ‘fun’ would be the furthest from a good descriptor of your interaction. You seemed to think the same.

“Nothing,” you said through clenched teeth and brief glare to the ebony-haired man. 

Jake frowned. “Awww, don’t tell me you guys were fighting again!”

You and Jay locked eyes.

‘Don’t you fucking dare,' his eyes said.

‘Wasn’t going to,’ yours replied.

Jake Sim was a sociable guy. Unfortunately, it made him a little obsessed with making everyone get along. So when he found out that you and Jay deeply disliked each other in junior year of high school, he made it his life’s mission to make you get along.

Didn’t work. It really only made you hate each other more.

“We weren’t,” Jay affirmed, swiping a tongue over his pierced bottom lip. 

When Jake cocked a brow, you added, “Yeah, we weren’t.”

When Jake left you two alone again, there was a thick silence that fell over you (as silent as a rowdy college party could get). You took your drink, and turned to leave.

“Go fuck yourself, by the way,” you spat.

There’s many issues with college parties. A few hundred bodies of sweaty late-teen-early-twenty-somethings all squished together in a single frat house with alcohol and drugs was just a recipe for disaster. Alas, that was simply the college way.

To Jay Park, other than the fact that there was, ahem, usually the presence of people that he didn’t like at college parties, there was the fact alcohol was practically everywhere. No matter how many times he could vow to not drink on one particular night, he always ended up slightly buzzed or full-out drunk.

Like right now.

It was late into the night, but the party hadn’t died down even a little bit. His friends pulled him onto the dance floor. Normally, he would scurry off, probably scared that he might lose control of his spider abilities, but with the booming techno music, blinding LED lights, and alcohol that had happily found its way into his system, Jay’s mind was completely hazy. He could barely feel his own feet below him.

The next thing he knew, there was a body up against him. Definitely smaller than him, but plush and soft, moving fluidly to the music. His mind was completely fuzzy, but Jay could smell a familiar scent. Sweet and almost citrusy, like a summer orange. His arm slithered around the person’s waist, pulling them closer to his own body. His fingers found themselves snaking toward the person’s hip. His larger hands gave it squeeze, earning him a barely-audible squeal. 

If only he knew that the person was you.

Maybe it was the alcohol getting to him, but he felt a shock of fervor and excitement rake through his body.

Bodies moving closely together, he could feel a ghost of your warmth where there was clothes; where clothing was, he could only feel a touch of warmth. 

Jay could feel everything, thanks to his heightened spidey senses and the alcohol. Every motion of your body against his, every breath you took. Which is why even when intoxicated, he could clearly hear the song change from techno to punk rock– Muscle Museum by that one band he’s liked since freshman year of highschool. Muse, was it?

“Fuck, I love this song,” he heard you mutter in your own tipsy state.

Jay was sure you couldn’t hear him, but he slurred back, “Me too.”

His hands explored.

A bare thigh, soft and creamy. An exposed neck, an unclad arm, an ample uncovered chest. Something metal on your face– a piercing? glasses? You must have been wearing jewelry, because he could feel cold metal hanging from your neck and splaying across your chest.

(The amount of practice it took for him to be able to ensure no sticky webs came out of his palms was out of this world. Sober Jay would have been a little more careful, but it was a good thing that he practiced so much.)

When his hand gave your waist another squeeze, something must have clicked in your mind, because you slid your arms around his neck, turning your body to press your chests together. Pedicured fingers ran across his chest through the fabric of his hoodie, ending up at his shoulders. Another jolt of warmth and electricity coursed through his veins.

Jay’s head was way too blurred to really take a look at you in front of him, but again, that familiar scent filled his senses. 

When the lights dimmed and music slowed, you rested your head on his shoulder. He could feel your breath fanning against his neck, lip brushing against his skin. Your lips were half-moist; it must have been gloss that made it sticky, but there was a hint of dryness that he could tell was from being swollen– you were biting your lip so much it was becoming swollen. A warm chill rushed down his spine. 

How drunk was he at this point? He didn’t care, because the next thing he knew, he was pushed up against a wall in a dark hallway.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he muttered under his breath, as you shoved your pedicured hands up his hoodie and played with the belt loops of his ripped jeans.  Throwing his head back against the wall, he heard you giggle, before you ghosted your hand over his lower abdomen, effectively sending waves of warmth down his body. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, flinching. He cursed his spidey senses for making him so sensitive to touch. “Don’t fucking do that- don’t tease me.”

He heard another giggle, before he felt a few nimble fingers grasping his chin gently, pulling his face down for a better reach.

It was a soft, but crazily attractive, voice that whined in his ear, “But you’re so cute like this.”

And then you continued, slipping your hand up and down his bare abdomen, occasionally stopping near his collarbone to tug on the metal necklace that laid so delicately. Meanwhile, you pressed open-mouth kisses on his neck, eliciting the softest sighs of satisfaction.

Truth be told, Jay had no idea that it was you who was all pressed up against him, but for some reason, the fact that he didn’t know turned him on even more. 

The wet kisses, which he was sure left sparkly pink traces of lip gloss, littered all over his skin, trailing from the part where his jaw and ear met, to his collarbones, to his Adam’s apple, and finally, to his chin.

With a squeeze to his bicep, you gently cupped his cheek, pulling him closer. With an experimental hand, you swiped your thumb over his bottom lip, pressing onto the cold metal piercing that adorned his lip.

It was a dark hallway, but it was now that Jay noticed the light that reflected off of your glasses’ lens. When he tried to look for your eyes, he was only met with the sleek shine that reflected off your glasses.

“Let me kiss you,” you purred into his ear as you ran your thumb over his lips. It was now that he could smell the tequila from your breath. “Please?”

Jay, all in his equally-drunken glory, threw his head back again against the wall, making a thud sound. “Fuuuuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Yeah. You’re hot.”

You giggled. You gave his lip piercing one more tap of the finger before entangling your hands in his dark hair, giving it a soft tug. It was a good thing that he was pushed so close against a wall, because Jay swore his knees were going to give out. 

“Thank you, baby.”

You gave his hair another tug, staring straight into his eyes. The half-panicked expression that spread across his face made you crack a small grin of satisfaction, and Jay felt embarrassed under your gaze. Gently holding his face, you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his jawline before you ended up at his chin. You pulled him closer so that your chests were pushed all the way against each other, the majority of your weight on him against the wall.

Jay swiped a tongue over his lip, sucking in a sharp and shallow breath. His chest rose and fell, swallowing so hard in anticipation that his Adam’s apple bobbed. You brushed your nails along his bicep before clasping hands with him; in a swift movement, you pinned his hands flat on the wall next to his head. 

The gap between your faces was closing. You were only a few inches apart at this point. Hot breaths and glassy eyes.

Hands still pinned against the wall, Jay could not tear his eyes away from that glossy sheen on your glasses. He wanted so badly to see your eyes, lock onto them. Usually, the inability to see someone’s eyes would make a kiss less appealing, but for some reason, it only made things more intimate for him. Combined with the darkness and intoxicated state, the anonymity was a turn-on.

Almost as if to tease him, you peppered soft kisses along his chin and around his lips. Freeing his hand from your grip, Jay snuck it around your waist, pressing you all the way up against him. He could feel every curve and divot of your body now; with the softness and plush skin, he wanted to explore it once again with his touch. His big hand traveled down your waist to your hips, caressed your ass, and ended up on the backside of your thigh. He freed his other hand to do the same, resulting in two hands on your thighs.

Jay parted his lips, peering down at you through lidded eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

The music had faded in the background, but his heart pounded to the beat of the slow R&B. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

So close. You were so close.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

Sliding his hands up your back to your shoulders, Jay gave it a squeeze. In a swift movement, he flipped your positions around, pushing you gently against the wall and placing a flat palm above you head.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

You giggled, grappling for his hair once again. 

Again, he could smell that sweet, citrusy scent.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

Jay leaned in. 

There was a sort of tenderness—intimacy— that he suddenly craved for. Closing that gap, having skin on skin, lip to lip, he needed it.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

If he just got a little closer… a few more centimeters, and your lips would-

Beep beep!

What-

Beep beep!

Bewildered, Jay flinched back.

It was his watch, which lit up the dark hallway.

You held his bicep, trying to pull him back in. He resisted.

Beep beep! Time to go! his watch went on.

“Baby,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”

Jay bit his tongue. As sensible as an intoxicated person can be, his eyes narrowed at his glowing wristwatch. 

Fuck.

“I-I have to go.” Jay pushed off the wall, turning toward the hallway entrance. He was feeling dizzy.

“What? But-”

He eyed his watch, which was now glowing a red color.

“Shit, shit-” He turned over his shoulder, slurring out, “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t see your face but he could feel disappointed and confused eyes boring into his back.

On his way out of the frat house, Jay took a bottle of water and chugged it, sobering up (though still feeling shitfaced and nasty). He rushed out of the house, and the moment he stepped out onto the pavement, his phone rang.

“What happened this time, Jungwon?” he grumbled into his phone, still catching his breath. His hand came up to touch his neck. Even out here and sobered up, he could still feel the sticky kisses pressed against his skin, setting his cheeks aflame against the cold night air.

On the other side of the phone, a childish voice spoke. “Doctor Discotheque!”

“What?”

He heard a huff. “Doctor Discotheque! Remember? That villain guy! He’s here!”

Jay scoffed. “Where’s ‘here’?”

“At home, you dummy!”

Sometimes, Jay wondered why he employed his eight-year-old kid brother, Jungwon, or Wonnie, to help him with his Spider-Man endeavors. Given the fact that the kid was literally eight years old, it might have been a little pathetic to enlist the help of someone who couldn’t even do basic math. But honestly, Wonnie was the best he had– the kid was terribly excited to find out that his big brother was a superhero and he promised not to tell anyone only if Jay 1) told him everything that happened (correction: everything cool that happened, the kid didn’t want to hear about helping old people use the subway) and 2) let him be intel. There wasn’t much a grade-schooler could do to be a valuable informant (what was Jay going to let him do, run around the street at night?), but he sure did have a lot of time on his hands.

“Okay, okay,” Jay rubbed the scar on his nose. “Where at home? Like, in the complex? Outside?”

“Two floors below us.”

“What.”

Just as Jay was outside the general vicinity of mixer-goers, he heard a slew of heavy footsteps and then suddenly felt two arms wrap around his torso.

“What the-”

A very, very, very familiar voice began sobbing into his back. “Why’d you leeeavvvvveee?”

You.

You tightened your hold on him, burying your face in his hoodie-clad back. “Whyyyyyyyyyy?” you drawled.

“The fuck-?” Jay, cringing into his skin, tried to pull away. However, his nose picked up a scent that he was more than mortified to recognize. It was sweet and citrusy. And when his eyes caught the outline of your metal-framed glasses and the illumination that was strewn across the lens, all hell broke loose.

“Jay?” Wonnie’s voice called over the line. “Jay! Spider-Man! Is everything okay?”

“Hold on-” Jay replied. “Fuck, just give me a second.”

You, [Name] [Last Name], possibly one of the most insufferable people ever, was the one that he was all over just five minutes ago. You were the one that had him pressed up against the wall. You were the one that was touching and kissing him all over. You were the one that sent chills down his spine. You were the one that he was minutes away from taking into a spare bedroom and-

He sucked in a sharp breath. Not the time to think about that.

Now that he had soaked in the fresh air outside the frat house, the smell of alcohol was strong on your person. It consoled him that everything happened because both of you were drunk, at least.

“[N-Name],” he muttered. “[Name], let go.”

You were fuckfaced drunk, holding and clinging onto him like your life depended on it and wailing. Jay never thought that he’d find a day where you would be like this to him.

“I want youuuuu,” you slurred. “Come baaaaack insiiiideeee.”

“Jesus Christ, you college kids,” Wonnie clicked his tongue on the other side of the line. “Get a room.”

“Shut it,” Jay spat. Turning his attention to you sobbing in his arms, he figured that you had no idea that the person you were all over was him. If you did, you would be kicking and screaming at him. 

As much as he needed to go, he didn’t feel great about leaving a drunk woman (no matter how much he disliked you) alone at night at the side of a road.

“[Name], where are your friends?”

You sniffled. “I don’t knowww.”

Jay huffed. He couldn’t find your phone, and he wasn’t going to hang up on his brother– who he honestly really needed to get to, like, right now.

He had a few options: fail at his job as Spider-Man by leaving a drunk woman unattended, go inside and physically look for your friends which will delay him going to Wonnie, or take you home himself. He did not have a lot of time.

Which is why he was currently carrying you, his worst enemy, bridal style as he shoots webs across the sky, all the while being on call with his kid brother.

“When are you getting home again?” Wonnie asked.

“Give me, like-” Jay looked around the city- “Five minutes.”

A lucky feat of being Spider-Man was that he had incredible speed and agility. 

It wasn’t going to take much longer to get to your apartment, which he now realized was very close to his own apartment complex.

Actually, he was heading straight towards his apartment complex. 

Weird. 

Maybe yours is the one behind it? 

Nope, there’s just an old construction site behind it.

Wait, so then where’s your apartment…?

Oh my god, you lived in the same apartment complex as him.

Speaking of, you were asleep in his arms. 

“Won, what is Doctor Discotheque doing?”

“Having tea with our downstairs neighbors.”

“What?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Wonnie yelled over the phone. “He’s a supervillain! What do you think he’s doing? Wreaking havoc, duh!”

Jay took a deep breath so as to not yell back at this kid. “Yeah, I know. What in particular is he doing?”

“He’s being rude to the apartment staff.” When he was met with a judgmental silence, Wonnie groaned. “I’m serious. I think he’s waiting for you. He’s just being super mean to people right now.”

Damnit.

Jay took a look at the unconscious you in his arms. “Wonnie, I’m going to drop someone by the balcony. Take her in, will ya?”

Before Wonnie could blow up on him for bringing a ‘her’ home, Jay brusquely said, “I’m going down to kick Doctor Discotheque’s ass.”

Of all things in the world, you did not expect to wake up in Jay Park’s bed. 

The next morning, you woke up with probably the worst headache you’ve ever had. You were never one to drink, but maybe the university stress was really getting to you. Groaning, you sunk your face into the freshly-washed white sheets. All seemed normal, until you realized a few things:

First, who took you home last night? You had no memory of anything that happened at the mixer that night. If you thought about it hard, you could probably remember getting ready for it, meeting some, ahem, unpleasant people, talking to a few friends… and really nothing more. In fact, the bedroom you were in right now didn’t look like it belonged to any of your friends. 

Second, you were still in your clothes from last night. And makeup. And hair.

How did you get home last night? 

This was probably the worst hangover you’ve had in a while. Nevertheless, when you realized that there was talking outside the room, you got out of bed to investigate. 

Which led you to possibly the worst thing to ever witness.

Jay Park, with wet hair, shirtless on the couch.

The shrill scream you let out was enough to get a complaint from the neighbors.

“Oh my fuck, calm down,” Jay, in all his bitch-faced glory, rolled his eyes.

“You- You want me to calm down?” You were scandalized. Horrified. “You’re literally- You’re-”

“This is my house,” his eyes bored into you. “I can do whatever I want.”

“This- This is your house?”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

There was another ear-splitting scream before Jay convinced you to sit down so he could explain.

“You don’t need to sit so far away from me,” Jay dead-panned when you sat at the very edge of the couch.

“I don’t want to be near you,” you murmured.

“That's rich coming from someone that was all over me yesterday.”

The utmost and utter horror painted across your face was nearly laughable. 

You?

All over Jay?

Was that why you woke up in his home…? In his bed?

“Oh my god,” you clasped a hand over your mouth. “Did we…”

“No.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Then how am I here then?”

Jay sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

If you weren't completely stunned into silence from the fact that you woke up in Jay Park’s bed, then you were now. Jay recounted a rather detailed account of what happened the night before– the two of you got drunk, and ended up more than touchy with each other. Your face heated up, with both embarrassment and… anger? 

Frowning, you asked, “Then why’d you bring me home?”

“You were crying and begging me to come back inside with you, but I had to go.” 

You glared at him, crossing your arms.

“Go on.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you out there drunk, you know,” Jay shrugged. “I was going to bring you to your apartment, but I had to fight– I mean– Spider-Man had to fight some.. Um, villain downstairs.”

You nodded slowly, but skeptically. Sensing your cynicism, Jay added quickly, “You can check the news. The fight was on the seventh floor.”

Your ears perked up. “Seventh floor?”

“Yeah-”

“That’s where I live.”

Jay’s eyes widened a fraction. “Shit.”

A great thing about being Spider-Man was that he was technically a government worker, a public service provider. The government paid for all the casualties caused by his work, luckily. Gone were the days that he’d be considered a masked menace.

As great as this was, it led to Jay being more or less reckless. Not that he was throwing shit around and purposefully breaking property when protecting citizens, but he had the freedom to do whatever was necessary. If he had to break down walls to save people, then so be it.

Speaking up, Spider-Man went a little.. Err… crazy last night. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, or the fact that Doctor Discotheque the supervillain was literally insane. Safe to say, when fighting in the hallway of the seventh floor, Jay got a little aggressive and broke a few more things than usual.

If you found out that he-- Jay-- was Spiderman, a.k.a. the one that probably damaged your home, he’d be dead. Luckily, you wouldn't find out. Unluckily, your apartment was among those that were damaged last night.

“Can you stop that?” Jay said.

There were many reasons that Jay Park deeply disdained you. You were nit-picky, snobby, arrogant, pretentious, overly-critical, fussy, and extremely judgmental. Everyone thought you were some sort of genius, and he could tell that you liked the fact that they did. 

“I’m fuckin’ stressed,” you spat as you paced around the floor. “I don’t think I can really ‘stop.’”

Not that he was a sick person, but the expression of genuine distress spread all over your face was almost satisfying. But then Jay realized the situation you were in and he knew it was his fault, so he felt just a little bad. 

You lost your phone last night, and your apartment was more than a little damaged, the entire seventh floor being tarped and taped off. Sitting on the couch, you chewed on your bottom lip. It wasn’t even noon yet. Given your group of friends and the events last night, it wasn’t likely that any of them were awake at this time. And you didn’t have your phone- it wasn’t like you could just easily phone someone that wasn’t there last night.

You had a massive headache, feeling lightheaded with a throbbing sensation up there. You felt gross, with smudged makeup and the same tiny dress from last night. You could definitely walk to a friend’s place and wait there, but the heels you wore last night were the tallest, most painful, party-purposed stilettos. You were absolutely not walking around the city in those shoes.

The worst part about it all was that you were stuck in the apartment of none other than Jay Park. 

Could you appreciate the fact that he looked out for you by taking you home? Yeah, sure.

But could you stand him? Absolutely not.

“Why are you walking around like that?” He was getting persnickety, as payback for all the times that you’d been nit-picky towards him. “You’re going to ruin my floorboards.”

You sent him a glare. Some empathy would be nice, you thought, rolling your eyes.

There really was only one person that was accessible to you if you wanted to get out of here, and it was Jay himself. You never really thought that there would be a day where you would need to ask for his help, but here you were, practically stranded. Speaking of, he was ignoring you, occasionally looking up from his phone to give you a weird look.

If you wanted to go home, you would need to swallow your pride and just ask for help.

You prided yourself in your ability to be blunt. You were a natural leader, ambitious and aggressive. You never had an issue with announcing your wants or needs. But now faced with the piercing silence of Jay Park, you simply could not open your mouth to speak. It wasn’t like you couldn't ask him, but that you wouldn't. Curling your lips, you let the glum, nearly shameful, feeling fall over yourself.

Eyes tracing the man’s outline carefully, you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

‘[Name], you can do this,’ you recited to yourself. ‘You can do this. Just talk to him, just talk to-’

You pressed your lips together, before taking a deep breath and opening your mouth to speak. As you attempted to say his name, no sound came out. When he glanced up at you suspiciously,you quickly averted your gaze and closed your mouth.

When he looked away, your eyes flickered back to him, simply drilling into him. You licked your lips. For the second time, you opened your mouth to say his name, bracing yourself for the sound of your voice, but Jay spoke before you did.

“What are you looking at?” 

You stood up straight like a board, pushing up your glasses clumsily.

“I- Well-”you cursed yourself for stammering. You never stammered like this. “I…”

He looked at you expectantly.

Your ego, that fat chunk of an ego, was crumbling.

“Park,” you brusquely said. 

He leered at you. “What?”

You stared at him awkwardly, lips pressed into a line as thin as paper. “I… I.. um.”

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “On with it.”

You huffed loudly. 

“Can I please use your phone?”

The second last thing that you expected to happen ever was to be sitting on Jay Park’s bed with wet hair wearing his hoodie and sweatpants. And that other than asking him for help.

Never have you felt so ashamed of yourself, sitting on the soft bed with your knees up to your chest. 

The judgy glance that Jay gave you was absolutely soul-crushing, and after a humiliating stutter-filled explanation, he simply said, “Go take a shower.”

Were you initially mortified? Absolutely. But after soaking in the warm water for a few minutes, you begrudgingly thanked him. But only in your head.

Staring at a spot on the floor, you pressed your face into your knee, reflecting upon everything that had happened. As you were lost in thought, what startled you was a loud beeping sound, the slamming of a window, and yelling. You jumped to your feet in reaction, but before you could creep out of the bedroom, someone else came in.

Instead of a tall, well-built man with black hair, it was a young boy no older than ten holding a massive walkie talkie.

“Who- Who are you?”

The boy blinked owlishly, before cracking a grin. “Oh, it’s you!”

You recoiled. “Wh-What?”

“You’re the lady from last night!” he laughed, revealing sharp canine teeth. When you only looked more bewildered, he continued, “The lady that Jjongsaeng brought home last night!”

Jjongsaeng? “You mean Park— er, Jay?”

The boy frowned. “He didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend,” he murmured to himself quietly, before turning over to you. “Mhm!”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” You were a little concerned. Who was this child and why was he in Jay Park’s apartment?

“Oh!” The boy laughed again, throwing his head back. He came closer to you, extending a small hand towards you. “Jungwon! But just call me Wonnie!”

Okay, but your question wasn’t answered exactly. “Are you…” you took a better look at Wonnie. He was just so small! Though, he looked an awful lot like Jay Park… – “Are you his son… or…?”

The boy put an offended hand over his chest, scowling deeply. 

“Son?” he gawked. “I’m his brother!!”

Your lips formed an ‘o.’

“And what’s your name?” Wonnie looked at you curiously.

“[Name] [Last Name]– Just– Just call me [Name].”

A silence fell over you two.

“Do you- Do you know where your brother is?” When Wonnie gave you a suspicious look, you quickly added, “I need to use his phone.”

He gave you another long stare, before saying simply, “He’s not here.”

How could he not be here? Jay was just here, like, twenty minutes ago? “What do you mean?” you narrowed your eyes.

“He-” Wonnie’s large eyes hovered over to the window quickly, before fluttering back to you. “He went to work.”

“Doesn’t he have a night internship?”

Wonnie grumbled something under his breath, almost looking stressed, gripping the walkie talkie. “Yyyyyessss,” he nodded slowly. “But he has a day job too…. As an.. Um, photographer?”

You nodded slowly. “Right. When do you expect he’ll be back?”

Wonnie glanced at the window again. “In, like, fifteen minutes-”

Crash!

You two rushed over to the living room window, peering across to the construction site behind the apartment complex. There, there were news reporters, blaring ambulances and police cars, and rubble and dust everywhere. Not to mention the elephant in the room: Spider-Man and two criminals.

“Oh my god, is that Spider-Man?”

Wonnie didn’t seem as impressed as you, opting to toy with his walkie talkie. “Yeah, he’s here all the time. Cool guy.”

You frowned. You lived only a few floors down and you wouldn’t say that Spider-Man was ‘here all the time.’ 

“Really? This is my first time seeing him.”

Fingering the window handle, you pushed it open.

You’d heard all the stories. Your friends talk about seeing the red-and-blue-clad hero with his iconic spider logo. He was some neighborhood hero. According to a few of your friends, he’d help them fight off muggers and creeps, swinging in with his sticky white webs just moments before all hell broke loose. Apparently, he was a super suave guy, and according to a few, really hot. 

“As hot as a masked hero can be,” you would laugh with your friends. Now watching from a few stories up, you could definitely see the appeal. The sun was out, casting a harsh shadow on Spider-Man’s defined back muscles. The skin-tight suit hugged his strong arms and sturdy build. 

There was something so fascinating about Spider-Man. He was strong, friendly, dutiful, sure. But what made him so alluring was that you wanted to study him– dissect him. It was only in your nature to want to know every single inner-workings of a figure like him.

You then felt a poke at your side. It was Wonnie.

“What, are you in love with him or something?”

You tore your eyes from Spider-Man’s figure. “What? No!”

Wonnie raised his brows. “Hmmm… Okay.”

You turned back over to the window, except when you scanned for Spider-Man, he had disappeared completely.

“Hey, where did he-”

The front door of the Park apartment flew right open, revealing a disheveled Jay Park. 

“Y-You’re back already?” Wasn’t he just at a job….?

Jay waved his hand in front of him, taking off his shoes. “Yeah. Why? Were you gonna do something?”

Your nose scrunched. “No! I just thought you were at a job.”

Jay scoffed. “Who told you that-” He cut himself off when he noticed the awkward expression painted across Wonnie’s face. 

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” he muttered.

Jay Park would have never guessed that you would be sleeping in his bed. For the second night. In a row. None of your friends had enough space for you to crash, and if not, they just didn’t pick up the phone. 

“You need better friends,” Jay had told you in a matter-of-fact way, earning a sharp glare. 

And it wasn’t an easy decision to let you stay with him either.

The apartment was a 2-bedroom one. One for himself, one for his kid brother. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make Wonnie leave his room or you and Wonnie share a room, and he most definitely was not sharing a bed with you. He’d make you sleep on the couch, but the Spider-Man in him told him not to. So very grudgingly, Jay let you take his room.

He was only allowing this because it was him that practically destroyed your apartment. Even if he didn’t like you, he did take responsibility for what happened.

Maybe that one argument you had the summer of sophomore year got to him. 

And plus, he could not stand you. All the little jabs you made at him, even down to your facial expressions, had him riled up. But, for the sake of the child in the room, Jay made no big attempt to fight back.

Curled up on the couch, Jay couldn’t shake off the glum feeling that settled on his chest.

Jay Park never realized how many qualms he would have with another person living in his house. 

He was okay with Wonnie, because Wonnie knew his identity as Spider-Man. And plus, Wonnie was his brother– that little squirt was tolerable. When it’s just the two of them, Jay could do basically anything he wanted. Wonnie was more than enthusiastic when he would use his webs to pull objects toward him or hang on the ceiling just because he could, and it was a rather common occurrence for you two to make a ruckus whenever there was crime in town. Jay could go do Spider-Man things whenever he needed to, and Wonnie would be okay with it.

But now with you living with him temporarily, he had to be a lot more careful.

Especially with your nitpicking everything he does.

“Why do you cut your bread like that?”

“Ew, your butter is so hard.”

“Can you stop chewing so loud?’

“Why does your face look like that?-- Oh, hi Wonnie!”

“Hi, [Name]!”

It seemed like Wonnie and you got along better. 

“Hey, where are you going?” you asked from the kitchen table.

Jay, who was putting on his coat and shoes at the door, made a face. Swinging his backpack over his shoulders, he took Wonnie’s hand. “What do you think we’re doing?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you answered matter-of-factly. “Class doesn���t start until nine though!”

Jay pointed to Wonnie. “Gotta take him to school.”

That was only partially the truth. He did indeed take Wonnie to elementary school, but like every morning, he went on a morning patrol. The amount of small robberies and little school children walking into traffic was a bit staggering, but not to worry, Spider-Man was on his way.

Like right now.

As Jay swung from building to building, he carefully scanned the alleyways and streets to possibly catch any crime. When he stopped to rest atop a mix-use flower shop, crouching in his iconic pose, he spotted two children and a man.

Jay’s enhanced senses allowed him to hear the conversation-

“Let go!” one of the children pleaded, pulling away from the man. The other child, clearly the younger one, confusedly held onto the other.

“Kids, kids!” the man chuckled, continuing his tightened grip. “Just come with me. I’m your parents’ friend!”

The older of the two scrunched her nose, continuing to resist the man.

Jay observed from above. Clearly, these children had no idea who this man was. By the looks of it, there wasn’t anyone else around. Even if the kids screamed, no one would come to the rescue quick enough. This weird kidnapper guy could definitely take these kids without a doubt.

Cue the screaming and crying.

Panicked, the man tightened his grip on the kids, jerking them along as he began to walk towards the alleyway.

Fuckin’ creep, Jay thought before shooting a white web at the lampost a few meters down the pavement, swinging down. Extending a leg, he held onto the web as he suspended across the air. As he closed in on the man, he heard the two children let out shrill gasps just as Jay's foot made impact with the man’s cheek.

The brief moment of surprise made the man loosen his grip on the two children, allowing for them to scurry back. Now on the ground, Jay stood over his fallen figure.

Disgusting, he thought as he peered down at the man. Just thinking about what he would have done to the children made him angry. The man groaned in pain. Jay leaned down to the man, bringing a masked, yet somehow patronizing, face to him.

“Hey, buddy!” His words were ordinary, but very clearly filled with contempt. “Whatcha doin’ over there with those kids?”

When the man didn’t answer, Jay stamped a foot right between the man’s legs, impossibly close to his crotch. “C’mon, man. Wontcha explain?”

The panic in the man’s eyes was satisfying, as he began to draw out a pocket knife. 

“S-Spider-Man?!”

Under his mask, Jay cracked a smirk. “Honored to be at your service.”

The man ogled at Spider-Man’s built figure– he stood no chance against the hero. Regardless, he stumbled to his feet, pointing the blade at Jay. “Stay back!”

Jay laughed.

“Oh no! A knife! Anything but the knife!” Jay feigned fear, cowering into himself. “I’m so scared! Please! My biggest weakness is a tiny little knife!”

The man faltered, staring hesitantly at the hero. Jay took this moment to shoot one more web at the street light, giving him momentum to jump in and kick this guy in the face again.

“Oh, man,” Jay chuckled. “That knife really got me.”

“I-I’m sorry!” The man gawked at the hero’s figure standing over him, spluttering as he struggled to his feet and finally scuttling away.

Jay watched his running back carefully.

“Thank you so much, Spider-Man!” he heard the children cheering behind him. Turning over his shoulder, Jay gave them a salute, before shooting a web and swinging away.

When classes for the day ended, Jay Park wanted a head-start on patrolling. The sun was only beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the city. He liked this time of day the most. There was always a faint citrusy smell in the air, and he wished he could take off his mask to feel the wind rake through his hair. 

He checked all the important places– the bank, the university, the bus station, and especially the central business district. The alleyways were crazy notorious for being crime-ridden, so he was extra attentive with the patrol. 

Speaking of, there seemed to be a bit of a conundrum right now. From the top of a high-rise building, Jay’s eyes zeroed in on the figures a few hundred feet below him. It was no uncommon occurrence for there to be some sort of assault (with Spider-Man here, attempted assault) in a dark alleyway. Jay always followed a basic procedure:

Step one: identify what’s happening.

From above, he could see that– oh shit– a woman was going to be mugged. 

Little did he know, much to both of your luck, that woman was you.

Step two: identify the threat.

Two guys, both disheveled, one with a pocket-knife. Even though he couldn’t see your face, just by the looks of it, you were clearly disadvantaged– these two guys were massive compared to you.

“We see ya wallet, girl,” one of the men said. For two people who were very much advantaged, they were rather shy with the knife, holding it low and with little confidence. “Hand ovah the money.”

When you didn’t respond, they got a little more vindictive, slamming the rusted brick wall, demanding for money.

Step three: swoop in and-

Jay was bewildered by the raucous clanking of metal trash can tops against the dirty pavement. Gaping down, he could see one of the men crashed up against the trash cans, and the other one taken aback. 

Did you just…?

Jay was taken by surprise once again when he heard grunting and groaning in pain. You were kicking these men when they were down. With heeled shoes. And it was now that he finally noticed your physicality: [H/C] hair. Glasses. Big attitude. Oh my god, how did he not realize that it was you?

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you landed a kick at the crotch. Jay hissed in pain just at the sight of that. “Huh? You think you own this fuckin’ place?” Another kick. “Fuckin’ scum.”

Jay was contemplating whether or not he should go down there and give you– [Name]-fucking-[Last Name]– a hand. He was going to decide against it, when his spidey senses picked up the very crisp sound of a blade scraping across the pavement. While you were busy cussing out one of the assailants, you didn’t notice the way one of the men unsheathed the pocket-knife. 

Jay could see it— In a matter of seconds, the guy’d bare the blade and shank your right in the abdomen. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, tongue swiping right over his metal lip piercing.

“Hey, fuckface!” In one fell swoop, Jay landed a powerful punch to the blade-bearing assailant’s cheek, sending him flying down the alleyway. you let out a shriek. “Spider-Man?!”

It was weird to see you startled like this. “Hey, Gorgeous.”

In his defense, there was not a bone in his body that thought that you were gorgeous. It was simply a habit he took on when he assumed the role of Spider-Man. He said that to everyone.

The second assailant, the one that you had basically beat up with words, was still keeled against the trash cans, eyes widened and fearful of what the friendly neighborhood hero could do.

Jay leaned down to be at eye-level with the man. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

The man spluttered, and Jay sneered. The kick that the hero gave to the man square in the chest subsequently propelled him down the alleyway, joining his friend at the back. 

“Maybe don’t try to mug someone in broad daylight, bud.”

When Jay heard a few clanking sounds and groans of pain, he turned to you.

You were looking at him with large, shiny eyes, utterly consumed in admiration. Jay cringed at the silence that fell over the two of you. It wasn’t normal for there to be such a calm silence between him and you. If there wasn’t arguing, then there’d be an uncomfortable and tense atmosphere.

“I- Spider-Man…” you said, looking up at him through your glasses. The way that your eyes were practically glued to his masked face had Jay scrunching his nose. After a long silence of you just staring at him, you quickly avert your gaze, finding interest in your shoes instead. God, why were you getting so shy? Seeing the abashed expression on your face was like seeing a police officer get a parking ticket– so fucking out-of-character and just pure unnatural.

Jay wanted badly to make a jab at you, to say, “Hey, Jay Park just saved your sorry ass.” 

But he didn’t. 

Because that’s not what friendly neighborhood Spider-Mans do.

You bit your lip before glancing up at him. It was almost like you could feel his eyes questioning you from behind his mask, and once again, avert your gaze, pushing up your metal frames. 

It was now that Jay truly realized what was going on– Did you have a crush on Spider-Man?

You were acting really shy, and you were looking at him like he was some kind of god. 

The thought made him want to shrink into his own skin, but for some reason, it also made him grin. Grin a smug grin. Because now he had something to dangle over your head.

He didn’t have any sinister intentions other than the fact that he wanted an opportunity to be petty with you.

“Thank you, Spider-Man,” you finally blurted, that bashful look still casted on your face. 

Jesus Christ, the way you were acting soft-spoken and coy was so weird. 

He could do one of two things to fuck with you.

He could be extremely cold and distant, making you feel embarrassed. It would definitely be satisfying to see you panicked and flustered. But then again, Spider-Man’s job was to keep the city safe, not be mean to civilians. Even if said civilian was someone he couldn’t stand.

The second he could do was fluster you in a different kind of way: enthrall you with charm to mess with you. It was certainly a more ethical way to fuck with you, but Jay wasn’t sure if he’d be up for practically flirting with the person he hated more than anything else.

You shyly looked at him, expecting a response.

On second thought, he might be up for it.

He didn’t want to break you. Just fuck with that strong head of yours a little bit.

“Anything for you,” Jay took a step closer to you, just close enough that you would be taken aback, “Beautiful.”

Okay, maybe he should never do that again. Jay was not a lady-charmer. He had no game. There was a reason that he didn’t have a girlfriend, and it was because he could not flirt for shit. His skin was crawling with cringe– what he would do to have the ground open up and eat him whole because that shit was the worst thing he’s probably ever done.

His internal squirming was cut short when he saw the way your eyes widened a fraction, before letting a slight abashed curve settle on your lips. 

“Oh- I-” you lowered your head, your glasses laying on the very tip of your nose. 

“Thanks,” you stammered.

.

.

.

Now it was awkward.

What was he supposed to do now? Kiss you? No! What the fuck?

“I’m gonna go now,” Jay muttered. Extending his arm and aiming it at the top of the adjacent building, he prepared to shoot a web. However, he was stopped when you gently grabbed onto his bicep.

“Wait.” Your voice was uncharacteristically quiet, meek almost. “I-I don’t feel safe going home now.”

Jay blinked.

Jay Park never seemed to expect anything. 

For the second time ever, in the same week, he was carrying you across the sky to his own home.

This time, though, you were wide awake instead of black-out drunk.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you clung to him as he held onto your body tightly in the bridal-style. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be carrying a damsel in distress like this, but Jay never thought that he would be carrying you of all people. 

With you clinging so close to him, Jay could smell that sweet, citrusy scent again. He grimaced when he was once again reminded of the events that had transpired a few nights ago. Whenever he thought about it, Jay could almost feel his skin crawl, remembering the wet and sticky kisses placed on his skin.

Jay tried to ignore the way you stared at him so incredulously, wide and glinted as if he was some sort of idol.

As Jay approached the edge of the high-rise office building, he noticed you bracing yourself for the jump You’d been shutting your eyes tightly and letting out a little peep every time he’d jump across buildings.

Maybe he should try fucking with you right now.

Launching off his feet, Jay had propelled the two of you into the wide valley between office buildings. Usually, he’d shoot a web within a few milliseconds of just being the air. However, with you in his arms…

“S-Spider-Man…!” you squeezed his bicep. You were falling…! 

Jay was taking his sweet time with shooting another web, waiting for them to be just a few hundred meters from the bustling and traffic-filled road, giving you the illusion that you were about to topple to your death. 

“Spider-Man, we’re gonna–!”

When you were practically dangling over the cars, Jay shot a web up to the next building, hoisting you two up and away.

“What, you don’t trust me, Beautiful?” Jay got some sick satisfaction from shaking up the usually-controlled you. If he was Jay, he probably would have made a jab, say something like “I told you so,” but since he was Spider-Man he stuck to the flashy and charming persona that the hero built himself.

“I… I trust you, Spider-Man, just– Eep!” 

Jay threw his head back, laughing. It was funny when you got scared.

“Stop making fun of me, Spider-Man!” you lightly slapped his chest. “I’m just…– Eep!--”you squeezed his bicep again– “Scared of heights.”

Jay gave your waist a squeeze. “I got you, Angel.”

It was weird to pull up to his own apartment and pretend that it wasn’t his.

“This your place?”

Jay was curious as to what you would say. He dropped you off on the balcony, before going into his iconic crouching pose on the thin metal railing.

You shook your head. “It’s my… friend’s. I’m staying with him because….”

You trailed off, before your eyes fluttered over to Jay’s masked face. “Hey, didn’t you fight some villain the other day?”

Oh.

Right.

The reason that you were even staying with him was because… Well, him.

Jay nodded slowly.

“Oh- Well, um,” you wrung your fingers. “My apartment, it got… Yeah.”

It was like you could sense the uneasiness behind the mask. 

For the heinous amount of crime-fighting that Jay did, he did feel a little bad for the amount of infrastructure that got ruined. It seemed like every other week there were glass shards strewn all across the streets. He couldn’t imagine the type of work that would go into rebuilding homes and infrastructure after so much damage.

That, he will take responsibility for.

He lowered his head. “Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry about that.”

A civilian is a civilian.

“No, no, no!” you said rather brusquely, almost in a hostile way, waving your hands in front of yourself. 

Ah, there it was. The [Name] that he knew.

When you realized your tone of voice, you quickly back-tracked, clearing your throat and pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I mean- It’s okay, Spider-Man,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. “You did what you had to do.”

If you knew his identity ,you wouldn't say that. You would probably file a lawsuit against him.

But he appreciated the sentiment.

“What’s your name, Pretty?” He needed you to formally introduce yourself so he could stop using those cheesy nicknames.

You smiled bashfully again. “[Name].”

“Then I’ll see you later,” Jay jumped to his feet, balancing on the metal railing. He looked over his shoulder, raising a hand up, “[Name].”

With that he began swinging away.

You blinked slowly, eyes trailing his slowly disappearing figure.

When he was out of your sight, your lips immediately broke out into a wide grin. Taking off your glasses, you used a hand to cover your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up and pull upward. 

Oh, you understood it now. Why everyone said Spider-Man was so charming.

Using both hands to cover your warm face, you let a few giggles out into your palms. 

God, Spider-Man was attractive.

Your momentary fluster was cut short when the screen door of the balcony slammed open.

“Are you gonna come in or….?”

You turned to look over your shoulder.

Jay Park. Always had to ruin everything, didn’t he?

You huffed, removing your hands from your face. “Yeah… Just, give me a second.”

“Okay.”

When you turned back, you failed to notice the smug grin plastered across Jay’s face.

You heard from many people that Jay Park had an issue with disappearing. You understood what they meant. In the classes that you shared with him (which was few because your majors were different but similar enough), he would be absent for a few days at a time. At parties, even if you didn't actively seek him out, you’d see him at the beginning and after a few minutes, he’d just completely vanish. Even at some get-togethers that your mutual friends hosted, you’d hear some people complain about Jay always needing to “go to his job.” 

Now that you, more or less, lived under the same roof as him, you understood to a whole other degree what people meant.

According to what his own friends said, Jay had a night internship, and according to his brother, he also had a day job. He didn’t show up to his classes some days, but you would see him in the morning before class alive and well, so he clearly wasn’t having health issues. How crazy was his schedule? You had friends in his major with jobs of their own, and they weren’t flaky in the way that Jay was.

Jay would be up early, completely disappear for the entire day, and come home late.

It was weird. 

Not that you cared.

You could care less what happened to him.

You just found it strange.

Like right now.

It was late at night. Finals were coming up soon, and you simply couldn’t sleep. 

See, Wonnie was normal. Wonnie had an ordinary, completely sane, schedule. In the morning, Jay would take him to school, and in the afternoon (you assumed that) Jay either picked him up or Wonnie walked home. Either way, the kid had a much more tangible daily schedule, yet his brother’s was the complete opposite. But it didn’t seem like Wonnie questioned anything either.

You saw Wonnie come in and out of rooms, heard him get a glass of milk, you even said good night to him. 

The yellow-white lights that illuminated the apartment were blinding now, wearing down your eyes to the point that they felt watery. There was a sort of morose feeling that set over you as you sat at the cold kitchen counter. From final exams to the fact that your apartment was under reconstruction to the fact that you were practically intruding on our greatest enemy’s home was frustrating.

It would be completely bitchy and ungrateful of you to not recognize the sort of generosity that Jay displayed toward you. You really, genuinely, truly, could not stand him. He was someone who constantly made your day worse, someone who you'd never been able to agree with for years, someone who went out of his way to bother you– and vice versa. It wasn’t like you had no idea why he’d try to help you: he might be a supervillain to you, but he was no monster. It was clear that you were on a “I-only-doing-this-because-it’s-courteous” basis, but even then, for him to give you his own bedroom was more than courteous.

You didn’t like it.

Of all people in the world, why did he have to be so… hospitable?

You didn’t like the fact that you felt so dependent and almost helpless. 

You must have sat at that kitchen counter for a good chunk of time, because the next time you really moved from your lethargic position was when there was a sudden bang against the window. Lost in thought, you violently jerked up, jumping to your feet.

Eyes quivering to the windows, which were blackened by the dark night sky, there was nothing there. 

Strange.

You had your tongue dig into the inside of your cheek, frozen in place. Just when you thought your mind was just playing games, another loud bang against the window resounded through the room, followed by a few jumbled curse words.

You weren’t exactly happy that the one time you would get robbed it would be in your enemy's house.

Shit.

Except, instead of a masked burglar comically dressed in black, someone completely unexpected bursted through the window.

Red and blue spandex suit, complete masked-over face, and that unmistakable spider icon.

“Spider-Man?!”

Oh.

My.

God.

Why was Spider-Man landing in Jay Park’s apartment at this time?

And when you looked down at what you were wearing– a thin tank-top and pajama shorts–you suddenly became a lot more alarmed and self-conscious than you initially were.

“[Name]?” Spider-Man gaped. Except instead of that friendly and playful tone he was known for, it sounded sour. “What are you doing up at this time?”

You, who was now very consciously covering yourself up, gawked. “I’m– I was studying– What are you doing here, Spider-Man?”

“What do you mean? This is my ho–” Spider-Man stopped himself, before clearing his throat. Like a switch had been flipped, the hero began again, “I’m, um, stopping by to see my friend.”

You blinked.

“Y’know, Jay Park– dark hair, lip-piercing, super handsome and cool.”

Your nose scrunched at the description.

“I didn’t know you lived with him, Beautiful,” Spider-Man continued. “You said you lived with a friend, right?”

You pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I wouldn’t say friend. We’re like, acquaintances… by association.”

“You don’t sound like you like ‘em very much, yeah, Gorgeous?”

You weren’t about to lambaste Jay Park in front of Spider-man, who was apparently his friend. That would be discourteous, and you weren’t about to flame the guy that was letting you sleep in his house.

“He’s…” You didn’t want to make it seem like you were buddies, especially in front of Spider-Man. “He’s all right.”

Spider-Man was now inching toward you. “Just all right?”

You eyed the hero’s well-built figure as he came closer and closer to you, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. You felt even more shy and exposed when he very clearly lingered around the sight of your silhouette. The way his voice resounded throughout the room, slightly raspy from the yelling he must have done and low due to his exhaustion, sent a chill down your spine. 

“He’s okay,” you responded curtly. “How– How do you know him? How do you know Park?”

You could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you even through his mask. 

“How do I know him?” Spider-Man crouched down next to your feet at the kitchen island, looking up at you. You could hear the grin in his voice. “He met me in senior year of high school.”

Oh wow. They’ve known each other for a while.

“A spider bit him, or something,” the masked hero continued. “And I found him all sick and sad when his uncle passed.”

That’s right. In senior year of high school, Jay’s uncle, the person who took on a father figure after his parents unfortunately passed. It had taken a toll on him at the time. You remembered passing him in the hallways, seeing the messy black hair overgrown over his brows and dark eye bags. The one person that you regularly debated in AP Macro was no longer interested. At the time, you had contemplated whether or not to reach out to him, but he’d completely shut everyone out.

“That’s great,” you murmured. No matter how much you didn’t like him, it didn’t mean that he should lose someone important to him. “That’s great that he had someone there for him. I remember–”

Spider-Man looked up at you.

“I remember– I tried to talk to him about it once, in… I think it was in Stats?” you recounted. Your lips pressed together before forming a slight curve. “He yelled at me.”

“He yelled at you?”

You almost laughed. “Yeah, he did. Oh man, we never got along in high school– even now– but… It’s not nice to lose someone you love, is it?”

Spider-Man stared at you silently, before quickly agreeing– “Yeah, it isn’t.”

You bit your lip as you recounted. “I wanted to comfort him, but I don’t think he wanted me of all people to do that. At least I tried.” Your eyes fluttered over to Spider-Man. “I’m glad he had someone like you to be there for him.”

Spider-Man didn’t speak.

“Are you and Park close?” you asked.

“Yeah, we are.”

You hummed. “Oh. Do you see each other a lot?”

“Everyday.”

.

.

.

Spider-Man got to his feet.

“[Name], do you want to go on an adventure with me?”

Sometimes you thought you were stupid. Not all the time because you knew you were smart, but some time like now, where you allowed a masked man who may or may have not broken into your enemy's apartment claiming to be his friend to take you around the city at night. And you did it without even telling anyone, so if you got killed in an alleyway no one would know.

Not to worry, though.

Jay Park thought he was pretty stupid, too.

Staying out late at night right before finals week and completely forgetting about the workaholic nerd freak that lived with him temporarily (you). And to make it worse, he mentioned his own civilian self!-- and he obviously couldn’t be in two places at once. 

He needed a way to deflect.

“Wooooh!” Jay hooted as he swung from building to building.

“Spider-Man– Slow down…!”

Unlike the last two times he’d taken you out on some sort of aerial excursion, you had your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his neck and torso, hugging him from the back instead of Jay holding you bridal-style. 

It was nice for a change. For the first time, you were hanging off his back instead of being directly held by him. Jay couldn’t help the snicker that he let out when you would squeeze him and squeal in his ear out of fear.

“I thought ya said you trusted me,” he beamed. Jay could feel the way your face pressed into his back as you dangled in the sky. “C’mon, Gorgeous, don’t get all scared on me now.”

“It’s not fair- Eep!”

“What’s not fair, hm?” He shot another web. You didn't respond, opting to squeeze him harder. “What’s not fair, [Name]?”

“This!” you chided in his ear. “You-You’re not scared because you do this every day!”

“Well, maybe you should do this more then.”

To Jay, it was really weird to carry a frightened you around. He never took you for the clingy type, but maybe there’s a lot he didn’t know about you. It was especially weird when he was Spider-Man, because you were oddly nice to him. When he’s Jay, there’s no denying that you’re hostile.

“Why are you so nervous?” Jay sneered when you two landed on top of the central clock tower. You’d sat down at the top, letting the cool late-Spring night hit you. For someone notorious for their crazy confidence, it was absurd to see such a person all feeble and fiddling with their fingers.

 “It’s just finals,” you mumbled.

Jay nearly laughed. “Wow, you really are a nerdo freak.”

Your cheeks visibly heated up, folding your arms over your chest. “Hey! I’m not a nerdo fre–” You stopped yourself, before you brought your eyes up to the hero. “Did he tell you that?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “W-What?”

“Park is the only person that calls me ‘nerdo freak,’” you frowned, raising up your fingers to make air-quotes. “He’s been calling me that since highschool.”

Oh.

Shit.

“Y-Yeah,” the man responded, sucking in a shallow breath. “He talks to me about you a lot.”

Not true. 

Jay Park doesn’t talk to Spider-Man about anything. 

Because they’re the same person.

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. “Really? What does he say about me?”

Oh, this would be awkward.

“Jay thinks you’re really… Uhm…”

There’s two things Jay could do. Tell you his (Jay’s) honest thoughts about you as Spider-Man and effectively make the entire atmosphere both now and at home awkward. Though, it wouldn’t be much of a loss because he (Jay) already made it loud and clear how he felt about you through his words and actions toward you. It would only be awkward because he as Spider-Man was the one expressing it.

The second thing he could do was lie.

“He thinks you’re hot as fuck.”

Oh my fucking god what was he doing.

“Oh… uh… Really?”

Jay wanted to kill himself.

Of all things he could have said, he said thats?– Oh my god, and now you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat– What does he do?

Jay Park was not attracted to you and he will never be! Never! Ever!

It was the first thing that came to his mind! He doesn’t mean it! Jay Park hates you! He thinks you’re ugly and- Well, actually, that’s not true. You’re a very pretty woman, he did indeed get crazy butterflies the night of the soccer mixer, and he did catch himself staring at you a few times, because let’s be honest, the tiny tank-top and pajama shorts looked good as fuck on you– but still-!

“Did he tell you that… or…?”

“Yeah, that’s a direct quote.”

Jay Park! What are you doing?

part 2 here

[amywritesthings]

war of clarity. / levi ackerman x f!reader

for @levievent #levimonth24. (day nine: soulmate au / day six: love at first sight)

pairing: captain levi ackerman x f!scout reader word count: 1.6k summary: They say finding your soulmate is like getting a migraine. When you've lived with chronic pain your whole life, the legends seem like a joke.

tags: soulmate au, love at first sight, mild language, reader has a chronic pain/illness condition, migraines/headaches credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

They say when you meet your soulmate, the pain is worse than a migraine.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting, blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white; then suddenly, clarity.

Funny enough, you’ve suffered through your entire life with ear-splitting headaches.

(Call it a cruel twist of fate.)

If this were the case — if being in pain from your earliest known memories in childhood all the way into enlisting in the cadets meant that you were playing the long game to experience the myth of finding The One — then you’d be quick to joke that everyone you’ve ever met could be your soulmate.

The girls in your bunk that offer to press a cold, wet rag to your forehead when the worst of your chronic illness hits — unlikely.

The boys failing at their ODM aptitude tests, where you zip by with flying colors — absolutely not.

You push—

Through training.

Through graduation.

Through choosing the Scouts, because for some reason it feels like the most noble option.

(The one that will make a difference, pushing past what’s beyond the Walls.)

So when you finally make it to the ranks, the emerald cloak draped across your taut shoulders like a badge of honor, you expect that continued dull ache in the base of your skull to follow you until your final days.

A comfort, really, to remind you that you’re still alive.

(If it’s quiet, then you’re probably dead.)

.

.

— —

.

.

  They call him Humanity’s Strongest.

That much you’ve heard through the grapevine; a man of unbelievable strength and resolve, an unstoppable myth in the very flesh. If there is anyone to strive towards, to look towards, it’s him. 

He’s resilient. Bold.

Lethal.

And you don’t care that he’s visiting your small squadron on the Special Operations in the early morning hours of this mundane Sunday, not when you’ve woken up with the most vile headache you’ve had in quite some time.

It takes all of the effort in the world to drag yourself out of your cot, breaking out in a cold sweat as you beg the pain to ease up a little.

The importance of this moment isn’t lost on you.

Special Ops is where you’ve hoped you’d end up.

After fighting tooth and nail to place within the top ten of your graduating class, you refuse to let your body win this fight.

Most of your squad has already scrambled outside, tripping over their knee-high boots and fastening worn leather in order to get a glimpse of Captain Levi.

You just barely make it out of the barracks in time for your visitor’s arrival, shrugging your tan cropped jacket over your shoulders with immense effort.

The sun.

(Why the fuck did it have to be sunny again?)

Nostrils flaring, you slowly make your way to the line-up of your comrades as they stand shoulders back, chins tall, to greet the incoming troop of horses.

“Attention!”

Your squad leader’s voice rings out, and you manage to step your way in line with the rest of your colleagues.

With considerable effort, you lift your chin and keep your eyes closed against the rays of the morning light.

Horses whinny as they come to a halt in the dehydrated earth beneath your boot.

Two or three octaves of grunts can be heard as the representatives from the Special Ops squad make their descent from their saddles.

A few minutes.

Just a few more minutes and you can return to the barracks where it’s cool, it’s darker, it’s—

“At ease,” a deeper, baritone voice rings out against your mental pep talk.

Bored, as if already disinterested in being here.

It forces your eyes to open, despite yourself.

White.

The sun seems blinding, like you’ve somehow lost your vision in the process of squeezing your eyes so tight — until the world returns.

When your eyes catch black fringe cascading over a gray, narrowed gaze, you let out an exhale you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind, oftentimes its own hurricane, eases to the eye of the storm.

And there is…

Nothing.

No pain in the base of your skull.

No sensitivity to the sun that beats down on the halved squad that has come to visit to discuss an upcoming mission that your squadron can assist with.

No jolting pain from a bird chirping, or the huffs of exertion exiting like clouds out of the horses’ mouths, or the murmured excitement from your colleagues that feel intimidating to be even near the man who turns on the heel of his boot to stare the six of you down.

It’s him.

It’s really him, that’s Captain Levi.

His bluish-gray eyes blink down the line of bodies willing to lay down their lives for the cause, acknowledging each person —

Until they find you.

You see it: the way his fist bunches against the leather reigns in his hand, how the muscles of his neck tense when his jaw clenches, the whites of his eyes growing as he stares.

Right. At. You.

Suddenly your stomach bottoms out, but not out of nausea — terror.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting—

No.

—blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white—

It can’t be real.

—then suddenly—

The noise ceases.

All you can do is stare back.

.

.

— —

  Clarity.

— —

.

.

  The silence knocks you off your axis for the rest of the day.

Everyone is so much quieter than you anticipated.

What used to be deafening now sounds at a normal octave. 

Your colleagues aren’t boisterous, or inconsiderate, or even loud. 

They’re just a baseline of noise, a soundtrack to the soup you stare at in the mess hall without an appetite.

You even enjoy the dimly lit warmth of the lanterns surrounding the building where you sit alone.

The other five of your squad are bombarding a woman and a man — you think they’re called Petra and Oluo — about their adventures outside of the Walls.

You only realize someone is moving into your space when the wooden chair screeches against the floor of the hall, waking you from a trance.

When your chin lifts, you know who it is already.

You may know nothing about him, but your heart thrums like it does.

Like you’ve known him your whole life.

His jaw is set, expression in an eternal scowl as he drops down unceremoniously in front of you. You idle your hold on your spoon, no longer interested in swirling the utensil like you plan to take a bite.

It’s too much.

It’s so—

“You should eat.”

That honey-smooth voice breaks your thoughts. 

When he had first arrived in the courtyard on horseback, it was gruff. Devoid of emotion.

Now? It’s just under his breath, tickling your ears. Soft.

Concerned.

“Not really hungry,” you confess to the stranger — this Captain Levi — unable to look away.

You see his jaw tense before he inhales, slow and measured through his nose.

“If soup isn’t your ideal, then I can give you my share. Your leader went overboard with spoiling us.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah, shit’s annoying.”

You aren’t sure why you huff through your nose in amusement, but you do. The blunt curse takes you by surprise.

“Why’s it annoying to be offered the good food?” you ask without thinking.

“Because there’s no reason to give my squad special treatment,” he reasons shortly. “We’re all running into the same shitstorm no matter the rank.”

Oh.

So he’s admirable on top of his resilience.

Your heart feels like it’s growing on overdrive with each syllable, but you hold back anything beyond a bland smile in return.

Setting the spoon down, you let your palm rest against the wooden table’s surface.

Silence.

He’s still studying you like you’re a war plan, a strategy he has to conquer.

“I don’t understand,” he finally states out of the blue, baritone voice softer this time.

“What… don’t you understand, sir?”

“Don’t.”

The command causes your stomach to flip. Captain Levi’s shoulders deflate as he shakes his head.

“Don’t… use that, for me. Not when we—”

He cuts himself off, dropping his attention to your chin.

No.

Your lips.

“Not when we, what?” you ask after a pregnant pause, though you’re afraid to ask.

Visibly swallowing, the Captain shakes his head. “Thought maybe it was a myth.”

So he did feel it.

(An overwhelming flare that consumed the sun.)

“I thought it was, too,” you confess after some time, keeping the conversation quiet between the two of you. “I just — it never happened, for me. And I’m prone to migraines—”

“Migraines?” he repeats, eyes narrowing to temporary slits.

“Yeah,” you breathe humorlessly. “By legend, it meant that everyone was my soulmate.”

There.

Laid bare on the table between you, the word makes the confessional.

Two strangers with an invisible string, warring with the reality of clarity before them. You may not know this man, and he may not know you, but suddenly the only thing in your world that brings you peace is the sight of his face and the sound of his voice.

“But it was never them,” you add after a beat. “All my life, it was never them. The only person who ever broke through that haze was you.”

Yet Levi doesn’t flinch. 

All he does is nod, as if resigned to the idea, before reaching over for your hand. 

Wordlessly he picks it up from the table, uncurls your fingers, and places the spoon back in its center. For a minute he pauses, his thumb running along your knuckles as if to commit them to memory.

“Eat,” he urges like it’ll break him. “Eat, and tell me about yourself.”

.

authors note:

Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in an hour as an exercise for Levi Month '24, so I hope you enjoyed my take on the soulmate au.

[glossysoap]

claiming ink 💉

them hearing you say once (once is all it takes) that you ‘don’t belong to them’ and in that split second after that silly remark, they’re deciding to tattoo their bite marks into your skin 💉

insp for this came from those trending videos of people getting their partners bite marks tattooed 🫣

18+ tw: dark fic, forced claiming via forced tattoos, stalking, groping, kissing, ex husband price, obsessed artists ghoap, stalker gaz, soulmate price/stalker price. simon’s the one doing a lot of the tattooing because it’s what made the most sense to me for the specific scenario.

some aus (that i’ve already discussed/mentioned) that this could work with are below. the links are provided at the beginning of each section. they’re very short skims, though it’s not completely necessary in order to read this:

ex husband price coming up with the idea the very second you try and hand him the manila folder filled with divorce papers and your ring. a long, tension filled car ride later, only a mere thirty minutes pass once you’re being guided (read: all but scruffed and pulled) inside his home.

suddenly the home you used to feel so comfortable in, so safe in, left you with chills running down your spine. with your eyes all wide and a sinking feeling in your gut - yelling at you to run for the hills.

simon waits at the dining table. it felt right right to trust him with something like this as price’s second in command. next to simon’s seat at the table sits a tattoo kit. the gun is already plugged in and the inks are already prepped. the table is already sterilized and ready for you to lay. your eyes widen and your stomach drops.

before you know it, your ex husband is holding you down while simon picks up the tattoo gun. john’s broad, big shoulders and strong muscles making it impossible to move as you’re pinned down to the table. “now, now. quit your squirming.” he slides your ring back on where it belongs, ignoring your cries and pleas.

(….)

soulmate/stalker price bringing a stick n poke kit as he tracks you down to that motel. it weighs heavy in the duffel bag he’d swung over his shoulder (along with some ropes and cuffs - just in case you weren’t cooperative. he could count on that.)

he wears a grin on his lips as he stalks to your motel door, the cold of night making his breath come out in fog. a few clicks is all it took for him to pick the lock.

he swings the duffel bag over his shoulder once more before pushing the door open slowly, finding the motel room bathed with darkness, save for your bedside lamp. he squints, eyes landing on the bed. his eyes crinkling at the edges as he sees your unconscious form laid out on the cot. your brows relaxed and mouth parted, face free of tension.

his feet move before his body as he finds himself at your bedside. merely an arms length from you. his mouth quirks into a smile, all sharp and gleaming. hungry. to see you right in front of him, vulnerable in your sleep and empty of your usual fight… ripe for the taking. he all but purred as he gently let go of his duffel bag to the floor.

a few minutes passed once he got the kit set up on your nightstand. needle sterilized and ink prepped. gloves slipped on. before all of that, a metal cuff locked around one of your wrists attaching to the bedpost. in your sleep, your other hand was hanging off the bedside - letting him easily pluck your wrist off the bed.

he held your arm with such care and grace, such a contrast to the demanding tone he’s reserved for you and the pawing hands he gropes you with whenever he tracks you down.

his eyes scan your face to ensure you’re still in a deep sleep, as if you waking up would stop him, before picking up the needle in his other hand.

since he didn’t bother numbing you, it doesn’t surprise him that you’re quick to jerk out of your slumber, gasping and crying from the needle poking through your skin. he heaves a sigh and pulls the needle away as you thrash, only to find yourself handcuffed to the bed.

“c’mon. settle down, now. you made me wait long enough, pup.” he growls as he yanks your hand to stay still for the needle. he was getting real tempted to skip ahead and actually bite you instead of just tattooing it on.

(….)

stalker gaz seeing you post on social media that you were getting a tattoo, and he sends an anonymous ask recommending a local shop, one that simon owns.

when you get there, the owner has many stencils prepared - one that looks suspiciously like teeth marks. you make some remark about it looking very realistic. “what, you get someone to actually bite down on the paper?” you joke, not knowing that kyle’s teeth had clamped down on the tracing paper earlier that day.

a few hours later, kyle checks your instagram story to see you posting your new ink. he feels his smile splitting his face, grinning from ear to ear as he sees his bite mark embedded into your skin. and you didn’t even know it was his.

“that’ll have to do until the real thing, i suppose.” he murmurs aloud as he imagines digging his teeth into your plush flesh, dragging moans and whines out of you every time.

he can’t wait to taste your skin under his tongue as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders, biting your flesh and leaving indents in his wake. he knew his hands would be gripping you tightly all the while, with an almost bruising hold.

(….)

obsessed artists ghoap deciding that a stick n poke isn’t much different than a painting as they mark your (their muses) skin. johnny’s arms wrap around your middle to both comfort you and to keep you still for simon’s steady hands. johnny’s face buries into your neck and his teeth skim the sensitive skin as he leaves open mouthed kisses along the span.

“mmm, bonnie.” he groans into your neck in approval at your taste. his arms tighten around you, his hands coming up to paw at your tits through your shirt.

if anything, his groping did at least momentarily distract you from the needle simon held getting closer to your skin. momentarily was the operative word.

once the sting of the needle reached your wrist, the whimpers and gasps started. simon’s scarred mouth quirks up into a grin as he watches the art come into place. the blood seeping from where needle meets skin. the ink bleeding before being wiped away. the mix of your cries and the buzzing of the needle filled the room.

as the needle passed over veins, you jerked and twitched involuntarily. simon’s skilled hands thankfully pulled back the second it started, jaw clenching in frustration.

“keep ‘er still, johnny.” is all he murmured before letting the needle pierce your skin again, tracing the stencils that formed both of their bite marks.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.