#also the full house name drop

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Dawson's Creek 4x4 | Doctor Odyssey 1x4

[neriyon]

∙ Basics ∙

Name: Hawu'li Puu Nickname(s): No one's really came up with anything (me included) Age: 23 Nameday: 17th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon (17.8) Race: Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te Gender: Male Orientation: Gayyyy Profession: Warrior of Light / travelling healer

∙ Physical Aspects ∙

Hair: Lavender purple and pretty fluffy. The turquoise part of his bangs is dyed, and needs to be redone regularily. Eyes: Bright yellow Skin: White with pink undertone Tattoos/Scars: White, slightly curved "dots" next to his eyes, three on each side. No notable scars - he's very diligent in healing any big hurts after battle.

∙ Family ∙

Parents: - Mother, Hawu Puu. Matriarch of the Puu family. Alive and well, strictly leading her family back in Shroud. Hawu'li visits her, but rather rarely. - Never met his father, nor know anything about him. It's uncertain if he even knows he has a kid. Siblings: - 2 older brothers, Hawu'a and Hawu'to. Hawu'a lives back in Shroud and hunts for a living, while Hawu'to is a researcher in Old Sharlayan. - Grand total of 5 older and 2 younger sisters. Three of the older sisters left home after adulthood to start their own families, the rest of them live with their mother and help provide for the family. Grandparents: Mostly unknown. Hawu sometimes talked about her mother (Hawu'li's maternal grandmother), but she had passed away before Hawu'li was even born. Other: - Draevoux "Drae" Chevalier and Nana Chevalier, elezen couple who are both his (currently retired) co-wols and "roommates". - Varying lineup of partners. He's poly with multiple partners and I've yet to make a solid list of them all since they change all the time. Aymeric and G'raha are the two I mention most. Pets: Carby the Carbuncle. Hawu'li's uh, not that good with names. Carby is your avarage ruby carbuncle, but is around pretty much 24/7. Often refered to as Hawu'li's "emotional support carbuncle", since it's jobs include keeping him calm when he is left alone.

∙ Skills ∙

Abilities: Strong affinity with healing magic and the ability to hear the elementals, making him a formidable white mage. When situation calls for destruction rather than healing, he's also well versed in the art of summoning, and has been known to call upon demi-Bahamut when feeling truly desperate. Hobbies: Cooking, reading and singing. Also likes to mend stuff (patch holes, fix broken furniture) and read stories to kids (usually his sisters')

∙ Traits ∙

Most Positive Trait: Seemingly endless positivity. For someone who's job is to kill gods and see people get hurt on daily basis he's somehow still sure Things Will Be Better, and that deep down everyone has the potential to change for the better. Most Negative Trait: Separation anxiety. From some deepest parts of his soul comes a crippling fear of being left alone. At it's worst, he'll go into full blown panic attack in fifteen or so minutes after losing sight of others. At it's best (mostly after EW) he'll survive with only Carby as his company for almost half a day.

∙ Likes ∙

Colors: Purples, turquoise, most pastels and bright colors Smells: Freshly baked things, forest, lilies, apples baked with cinnamon Textures: Running fingers through silky hair. Wood, fur and silk. Rocks smoothed over by water. Drinks: Tea (any), milk, blackcurrant juice, mulled wine

∙ Other details ∙

Smokes: Nope Drinks: Only in company Drugs: Nuh-uh Mount Issuance: Koivu, his beloved lavender chocobo companion. Disinterested in almost everything, but happily follows any command given by his owner in exchange of some tasty treats. Been Arrested: Surprisingly, only once - in Ishgard, on suspicion of heresy along with Alphi and Tataru. (Drae took the msq spot of fighting for Tataru's freedom)

Seen this tag game around a lot lately, and I wanted in on the fun despite not being tagged. Took a lot longer to fill than I thought, so we'll see if I have the energy to fill this for other ocs too.

If you want to do it too, go for it! ♪(´▽｀) It takes a while, but is very fun to fill~

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about nora again

[littlestarprincess]

. . . I hate when people mistake "the narrative doesn't explore this female character's interiority" with "this female character is dumb and helpless".

It's better when they say "passive" because at least that is something you can concretely see or not see, but . . . when you don't see anything of a female character's thought processes and default to assuming she's "dumb and helpless" that says more about you than anything else.

[the-acid-pear]

On: today i dreamt...

What started as a story about a group of gangster breaking into an abandoned (but not really?) prison to film their movie and being caught soon devolved into an international conspiracy filled with subplots about love and corruption, culminating with both groups that we thought were equally righteous finding out not everything was quite as it seems.

[mango-sp1ce]

Fully haunting a building is easy when you’re a full ghost. It’s instinct, even!

Being a half ghost- can cause some problems though.

But Danny was lucky. He wouldn’t call this Fenton luck, because Fenton luck just meant bad luck. The murphys law of Amity, really. No- this had to be Phantom luck. Which also had never been very good- but it had its moments.

Or maybe the smarts his sister swears he has have finally pulled through.

Haunting the fancy manor in one of the most dangerous cities in the world was pretty easy, despite all of his occasional slip ups.

Who needs to worry about accidentally walking into a room fully human when the manors full of black haired blue eyed boys- and everyone’s mistaking you for someone else.

He’d been mistaken for “Tim” a handful of times! And when he finally met the actual dude, he seemed to be delusional from lack of sleep and had simply nodded and walked past.

The butler had called him “Master Wayne”??? But honestly, Danny can’t blame him. Wayne’s the last name of almost everyone living here, and he’s not sure he’d be able to keep track of that many people either.

And then there’s the interactions. What seemed to be the eldest son had ruffled his hair yesterday and tussled him up- the head of the house had draped a blanket over him when he fell asleep on the couch and dropped his transformation, and the butler kept passing him fruit platters?

Danny’s not even sure how long he has to haunt this place to get his official haunting license- but it’s starting to look like the perfect forever haunt!

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

[lovelyghst]

soft-tummy simon riley save me… cause you cannot look at that man and tell me he doesn’t love to eat!! like, a constant snacker. and his heart absolutely swells when you indulge so heavily in his needs.

it’s practically his love language, to scarf down anything you put on the table in front of him, and you can certainly tell since now he’s not nearly in the same shape as he was when you found him.

he likes to think you’ve fixed him in a way; spending his evenings cuddling in bed for hours on end with you, rather than heading to the gym for the second time that day to burn off dinner. thanking you for the savory meal with kisses all over instead of fighting off the impulse to purge his usual bland chicken breast and vegetables every night.

and it all hits him far, far deeper than just his gut; feeling it in his heart more than the soft layer of fat blanketing his tummy he has to see in the mirror every morning. just the fact that a sweet thing like you wants to take care of him, ensure he eats plentiful yet still healthy for his work, has him whipped. showering him with endless i love you’s and praising him all up and down until his cheeks tint a light, flustered pink and his dick gets achingly hard in his pants.

he won’t pretend the change was easy on him, seeing the clean-cut abs and fit appearance that made him feel young fade away the further you got into your relationship, but he’d also be a filthy liar if he said he didn’t prefer the pros to his current build way more.

simon begins wearing shirts less around the house on his lazy days, at your lovely request of course, and it does feel quite freeing. especially when he’s able to come up behind you in the kitchen, cage you in with his burly arms, bend you over the counter and fuck you senseless because part of the deal was that his shirts would go to you, and with nothing but your lace panties on underneath.

he can’t help but get riled up seeing you walk around like that, and you’re no saint either when you catch a glimpse of his broad chest and relaxed, pillowy belly as he reads the morning newspaper. you tend to drop to your knees and tug at his boxers faster than he can even greet you properly, showing him just how much you love him.

he loves eating you out more than anything, especially with a full tummy after a late meal. you’ll take his and your empty plates to the kitchen to clean up, but you’re being bent over the counter before you can even wipe it down!! and squealing his name in surprise won’t stop him, nor will your giggles as he’s lifting the skirt of your dress to reveal your pretty ass, getting down on his knees and delving right in.

dragging his tongue through your drenched seam, grinning softly against your skin when you jolt and whine out of sensitivity. tongue-fucking your pretty, tight hole only for a moment before he’s returning to messily play with your swollen clit.

and you just know it’s entirely selfish, simon not even paying mind to the way your legs shake and relentlessly convulse and you can barely stay still because his stubble is unceasingly tickling your inner thighs. making you cum until you can’t anymore, and he’s happily forced to carry your numbed, twitchy body to bed so you can catch your breath and rest while he finishes up the chores.

would probably send you off by say something cliché about you being his favorite dessert. he’s so stupid when he’s horny.

simon is weak for when you ride his stomach, with both his hands planted firmly on your hips as you rub your bare pussy back and forth on his hard abdomen. his hidden muscles become more apparent the longer you go at it and the harder he holds you down, little whimpers spilling from your puffy lips as the light hairs coating his tummy create just the perfect amount of friction to your poor, little clit for that hot, familiar sensation in your lower belly to bubble up.

your hands clawing at his chest and shoulders, leaving lines and crescent indents in his skin that soon turn red in their wake, and the pain only turns him on more, his cock excruciatingly hard, long hums of pleasure omitting straight from his throat as he grits his teeth.

“yeah, that’s it, sweetheart—there’s my dirty girl. jus’ keep goin’ for me now, don’t stop… make yourself cum without me touchin’ you down there, ‘nd then i’ll fuck you real nicely after. alright, princess?”

and you soon follow through with just that, nodding decorously with tears welling at your eyes’ waterlines before you’re lurching forward, crying out his name. thighs giving out and fighting to ride out your orgasm, where simon then saves you with his attentive grip on your hips, finishing the job for you rather recklessly.

“good fuckin’ girl… y’did so well for me, love,” and every other gruff, dragged word of praise in his vocabulary echos in your fuzzy mind as you come down from your high.

you’re still catching your breath, fulling laying on his chest by the time he’s inching you backwards whilst taking his hard dick out from his boxers. lifting your weak hips for you as he whispers small, reassuring hushes right by your ear, soothing your winces as he fully sheathes you on his thick cock, inch by fucking inch.

he fucks himself up into you, not daring to make you overwork your body anymore, and he handles you so delicately you could almost fall asleep on his mattress of a body. you crumble to pieces with the vibrations of his chest from his unending groaning, the feeling of his veiny and rough cock stretching and filling you to the brim almost becoming minute compared to the sleepiness washing over you.

“there ya go, pretty… don’t have’ta do any work now, jus’ like i promised, eh?” he coos, and he could feel you smiling against his collarbone. one of his large hands cradles the back of your head while the other gropes at your ass lovingly. “takin’ me just fine, sweet girl.”

you bury your heated face into his squishy pectoral, whining at the overstimulation to your clit at the particular angle, left so utterly sensitive from your prior orgasm. you’re limp in his strong hold, securer than ever as he lifts your hips up and down his thick cock.

he uses your tender cunt ‘til he’s satisfied, groaning right up against your ticklish ear when he empties his hot cum in your throbbing pussy, the perfect thing milking him dry and turning you exhausted.

he actually sits in the moment for a peaceful while, coddling you against his rising and falling chest and murmuring sweet praises, until eventually his disciplined brain kicks in despite your protests.

“don’t go passin’ out on me yet, sweetheart.” you grumble out a refusing noise which makes him laugh softly, but apparently it’s not enough to win him over. “let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

(simon and his size difference & free use kinks go CRAZY in this one. also this instagram reel is so him coded ok bye bye <3 cont.)

[starkwlkr]

girl, so confusing | f1

an: might make this two or three parts, not sure yet but oh well <3 love y’all THIS IS AN AU WHERE ALL THE F1 DILFS ARE SINGLE

faceclaim gisele bündchen

part 2 part 3

liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and others

yourusername 💋

aussiegrit long time no see 👀

yourusername don’t worry, I still have cherry lipgloss that’s waiting for you

aussiegrit 😉

jensonbutton well hello 😏

yourusername hey there stranger

jensonbutton stranger? you’re breaking my heart, baby

sebastianvettel miss you lots!

yourusername come over then

sebastianvettel don’t tempt me

ferraridepressionclub y/n fr has all the dilfs in her comments i wanna be like her when i grow up

paddockgirlies she’s so iconic

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INTERVIEW WITH Y/N L/N | VOGUE

In conversation with Y/n L/n about being a mother and a racing driver, and her what’s in store for her.

Known for her fierce driving and even fiercer spirit, has seamlessly transitioned into a life that’s as complex as it is rewarding. A name that echoes through the halls of motorsport history, her story is one of reinvention—a journey from high-speed thrills to quiet, profound moments of motherhood, and, possibly, a return to the racing world in an entirely new role.

The 2000s were Y/n’s golden years at Williams. Her raw talent shone even when the team’s fortunes dipped, and she quickly became a fan favorite. Known for her courage, sharp wit, and stunning moves on the track, she formed friendships with some of the sport's brightest stars—Mark Webber, Sebastian Vettel, and Jenson Button. Their bond, a cocktail of camaraderie and unspoken attraction, became as legendary as her driving.

But the glamorous world of F1, with its dazzling lights and high expectations, took a toll. In 2004, Williams made the decision to drop her from their roster—a move that would alter the course of her life forever. Y/n, at the time, found solace in the chaos. Late nights, parties, and the company of friends became her refuge.

"I wasn’t ready to let go of F1, but at that point, I wasn’t sure where I was headed." Y/n said as we chat in her London home. It’s a beautiful house with stained glass windows and the perfect amount of sunlight shining in. Her daughter is also present though she much prefers to continue with her reading as she cuddles up to her mother.

But in the unpredictable world of racing, the story of Y/n was far from over. A fresh start beckoned when McLaren offered her a seat, a move that many saw as her redemption arc. She embraced the opportunity, her focus sharper than ever. The partying ceased. The cigarettes were put out. It wasn’t just a return to the sport—it was a return to herself.

Her career, marked by precision and passion, came to an official close in 2014, but Y/n’s influence has never waned. Retirement, though, didn’t equate to slowing down. Today, Y/n is a mother—something that’s become a cornerstone of her identity.

“I’ve always been independent, but being a mom has redefined what it means to be strong," she says, her eyes softening. "It’s a different kind of challenge, but one I’m grateful for every single day.”

Her daughter, now nine, was born a year after her retirement. She had announced the birth on her social media with a simple caption: “welcome to the world, my beautiful girl”

“As a mom, I’ve learned the art of balancing," Y/n reflects. "There are days when I’m just a mom—no racing, no interviews, no drama. And then there are days when I’m reminded of who I was before all of this. It's about finding peace with both versions of myself.”

At this point, her daughter stops reading her book and places several kisses on her mother’s cheek. It was a beautiful moment between mom and daughter.

“The future is full of possibilities. I’m focused on what’s next, but I'm not in any rush. We’ll see what happens. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Motherhood may have softened some edges, but it has only sharpened her focus. If there’s one thing Y/n has taught us, it’s that the greatest drivers are those who can keep pushing, even when they’re driving toward the unknown.

INTERVIEW WITH Y/N | THE PADDOCK SESSIONS PODCAST

“Welcome everyone to the paddock sessions podcast. I’m your host Dan and todays guest is a very special one. She is my favorite driver and I’m going to try not to freak out right now. Y/n L/n welcome to the paddock sessions!” Dan the host said into his microphone.

Y/n smiled and thanked Dan for the introduction. “Favorite driver? Dan, I’m flattered. I’ll pay you later.” She joked.

“You’re actually the reason my girlfriend watches formula 1. She watched your past races and was devastated when I told her you retired in 2014. I think she was thinking of breaking up with me because I told her,” Dan admitted. Y/n chuckled at his words. “But can we see a potential comeback for you? I know I’m not the only one that would love to see that!”

“Well I can’t really stay away from formula 1. I try to watch the races with my daughter, but she’s not interested in racing at all so I always end up watching them alone.” Y/n explained as she adjusted the microphone.

“Daughter of a racing driver isn’t interested in racing? That’s wild. But at least she knows that her mom is a legend in the sport, yeah?” Dan asked.

“She’s reminded every time we go out and I’m stopped because someone wants an autograph or a picture,” Y/n laughs. “But she knows the basics, she knows what all the number means, she’s a smart girl.”

“Amazing. Um, on the topic of your daughter, and you can stop me if you want, you’ve always been an open book in many ways, yet when it comes to your daughter’s father, you’ve kept things private. How hard has it been to keep things like that private? I imagine it must be frustrating.”

Y/n nodded and cleared her throat. “I’ve always believed in protecting my daughter’s privacy, and for me, that extends to the people closest to us. I’ll say this: my daughter is incredibly lucky to have the most amazing father. He’s the kind of dad who would do anything to keep her safe and happy. I know she’s growing up in a secure and loving environment because of him. He’s protective, but in the best way possible.”

“Have you seen the tweets regarding it?” Dan asked curiously.

“Oh yeah, it’s all over my feed. I’ve actually read some pretty crazy shit about the father of my daughter.” Y/n said.

“Any favorites?”

“There’s a thread that was posted recently on why Lewis is the father of my daughter. I love Lewis, but I can confirm he is not. He’s actually the godfather.”

“Well, you heard it hear first folks!”

[kisseobie]

car sex w/ piwon? them dropping you off to your house after hanging out at the dorms at night, and you start staring at their hands gripping the wheel for a bit long.. and things just develop (im a car girl don't blame me 🙏)

car sex with p1harmony

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni)

a/n: car sex is one of my biggest kinks so i’m def not judging girl :P oh also i’m dedicating this to my new bff @whimperly go support bella’s blog

listening to: diet pepsi by addison rae ♪

✶ keeho

kyo would look soooo delectable driving, especially late at night. you’re fighting sleep, the streetlights bright and hazy. he’s on aux, blasting sensual songs and humming along, reversing with his arm draped on your headrest for support, leaning his head back and driving with one hand. your window is down, your head peeking out slightly to bask in the cool air hitting your face, getting drunk on the feeling. you glance at your boyfriend and he catches it, smirking at you before turning his attention back to the road—but you can’t focus on anything but him. the air in the car is different now, you both already know where this is heading. when he eventually pulls into your driveway and halts the car, you’re wasting no time and pulling him into a needy kiss, whimpering out a crazed “i need you, kyo”, to which he just replies “bet” and gets to fucking work.

fucks you deep in the backseat of his fancy car, gives no care in the world for the mess you both are making, just wants to pound into your pussy until you’re whining out his name. the music is still on, ac on full blast, but it does nothing to prevent his sweat dripping onto your bare chest with every deep thrust of his practiced hips. after a few rounds of lovemaking i’d imagine he’d just lay with you, pulling your back to meet his chest, playing with your hair and stroking your tummy so sweetly <33 you two would quite literally get lost in each other

✶ theo

for yangie i’d imagine you both would be at a drive inn theatre date, the movie long forgotten as you’d be more preoccupied in swapping spit in his backseat. he’s wearing that leather jacket you oh so love, hair long and groomed and simple studs adorning his ears… tl:dr—he looks fine. at first it would start innocent, theo kissing your cheek as you got lost in the plot of the film, but he’d eventually grow bored and start sucking into the nape of your neck, not missing the way you’d rub your thighs together at the contact. after an impromptu makeout session, he’d whisper some shit into your ear about finding you much more interesting than the movie, and you couldn’t help but agree, wanting to see where this would lead the two of you.

so where did you both end up? fucking like rabbits in the back of his car of course! the movie had already ended, parking lot of the outdoor theatre now completely vacant, but the two of you don’t really notice, not when theo has your legs draped over his shoulders as he slams into your puffy cunt, thumb circling against your clit so harshly you feel lightheaded. he’s grunting so fucking loud, pupils blown out with lust as he just thrusts and thrusts, despite already cumming a few times. the car is foggy with the stench of sex, cherry cola slurpees, and theo’s cologne. you’re sobbing, tears drooping down the sides of your face and puddling against your ears, hair, and of course, his car seats. it’s just soooooo gross and so animalistic but he can’t stop :(

✶ jiung

eats you out, knee deep.. in the passenger seat (thank u chappell roan). i feel like he’d be all horny at the dorms, but wouldn’t do anything about it because he knows you two aren’t alone in the space (def is uncharacteristically handsy though). it doesn’t help that he hasn’t fucked you in weeks because of how hectic group promotions have been, and that you came over to the dorms wearing the tiniest little skirt he’s ever seen. when it’s time for you to leave, he doesn’t turn the car on, doesn’t pull out of the dorm driveway before occupying your space, kissing you deep and descending down to your legs. the tight space is cramped for sure, but he doesn’t really give a fuck, not when he has you above him, panties wet and in his line of vision. presses little kisses onto your clothed pussy, loving the way you’re already pulling at his hair and mewling at such little contact.

eats you out so slowly it makes you insane, no amount of you begging him to “just fuck me already!” halting the lazy way he devours your cunt like it’s his last meal. after all, he deserves this after working so hard, so just shut up and take it :( isn’t mean enough to not fuck you though, he’s not strong enough to dismiss your begging forever. doesn’t bring you to the backseat like you’d expect, he just towers over you and fucks you right into the passenger seat. complains cutely the next day that he’s cramped and sore, but it was worth it ^_^

✶ intak

lovesssss car sex to the point where you’re already anticipating it everytime you two are on a drive alone. it just makes him feel so dirty in the best of ways, the way he can’t control himself around you, the way your pussy squeezes his dick in a vice grip with every thrust, how his cum drips out of you onto his leather seats. i also imagine intak would want to film himself fucking you in his backseat, giving you the nastiest backshots known to man as he makes eye contact with the camera, smirking at how you attempt to hide your face in embarrassment. definitely talks you through it, especially when you ask so kindly to ride him in the backseat :P praises you for taking his dick so well, for letting him fuck you somewhere where anyone could find you both.

his favorite sight though? definitely the image of your bare tits pressed against his windows when he’s pounding into your sloppy cunny. makes him feel like the man, for sure. and on the rare occasion that you’re the one asking to fuck in his car? he’s so giddy, knowing that he’s corrupted his little princess and turned her into a cockwhore :D

✶ soul

i can’t write this prompt for soul and not include the reader giving him head! you’d just be sooo appreciative and full of love for your boyfriend sho, he was so nice to you today, bought your entire saved cart on your favorite online shopping site, purposely let you win when playing smash bros with you, ordered takeout to his dorm and hand fed you :( you feel the need to thank him, to reward him for being such a sweetie pie, and what says thank you better than some sloppy toppy? he’d be sososo shy, begging you to let him park before you unbuckle his pants but you’re too desperate to make him feel good!! when he parks into your driveway he lets go of his coy attitude, fully fists your hair and pushes your head against the base of his cock to the point where you’re loudly gagging against his shaft. when you pull up for some much-needed air you’re beaming at him, giving him the widest smile and wasting no time in dropping back down to your previous position.

i can practically hear shota praising you with a satisfied “atta girl, suck this fucking cock”, cumming into your mouth, and roughly fingering you afterwards as thanks for being such a thoughtful girlfriend :O

✶ jongseob

this def isn’t for everyone but i’m so obsessed with the idea of jongseob being your dealer and boyfriend all in one. he’d drive you to some empty park late at night, would smoke a few pre-rolls with you on the abandoned swings, and get horny and lead you back to his car. the pair of you are stumbling into the backseat, dizzy and giggly, making out with urgency (and some sloppiness) and peeling off each others clothes until you’re both fully naked. ride him while he lights up another joint, it’d be sooo sexy. oh and of course he’d let you take the first puff, would gladly let you grab at his face afterwards and push the smoke into his mouth before crashing your plump lips against his. the effects of the weed has your hips slightly uncoordinated, but none of you really care. seob would smack your ass as encouragement too :3

like keeho, i think afterwards you’d both just lay there, fully bare, cuddling, kissing, and smoking in a comfortable silence. maybe even nap until seob is okay to drive you back home <3 and like i always say, i’m convinced he’d take some polaroid of you, sat on his cock, smoking a joint and staring at the camera all slutty ..

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @dprvivi @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04 @lunepoesie @haku-s0ultrain @tkooooop @taehyux

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

✶ <3

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi this is my first time making a request \~•~/

Anyways I recently came to know Jason Todd's middle name is Peter. I started to wonder how all the bat boys would react to being called by their government names.

Thank you :)

Jason

Shits himself when he hears you calling him by his first, middle and last name instead of your sweet nicknames like jay birdie or jay jay, as he quickly learned from a young age that nothing good ever came from someone exclaiming his full name.

He thought that he and Roy may have rough housed a little too much and potentially broke something of yours or something and now you were upset over it.

‘Whatever it was I didn’t do it.’ He’d say almost automatically.

You could be mad at him for bleeding out on the carpet you’ve just cleaned and he’d be stood there holding his wounds like ‘I swear it wasn’t me this time.’

And you’d be like ‘so I’m meant to believe that you’re not currently staining our carpet with blood?’ Jason would look down, see that he was indeed bleeding all over the carpet but still found it within himself to look you dead in the eyes and say, ‘it’s not all mine.’ As if that was going to get him out of any more trouble then he was already in to begin with.

You presume it was the blood loss talking.

Needless to say Jason dreads whenever you call him by his full name, he may be an intimidating man in stature alone and could hand anyone their asses in a fight, but he was a secret softie with you and hated it whenever he got in trouble with you but is adult enough to have a conversation about it and come to a conclusion beneficial for the both of you.

Damian

He’s the least phased out of the boys upon hearing you call his full name, if anything he goes to greet you like you were the one he was annoyed with.

He’d stand in the doorway with his arms crossed as an impatient and unamused look spread across his face.

‘What is it?’ He’d ask as though you were wasting his precious time.

His grandfather often calls him by his full name, so Damian was more use to his full name or even just Damian Wayne being said rather then a sweet pet name. If anything if you had called him by a nickname then he’d be skeptical and slightly on edge as to what it was that you wanted.

At least when your relationship is still fresh that is, later on as the relationship grew serious then Damian might be more accustomed to your nicknames but for the sake of the fic he’s more use to being called forth by his full name.

He doesn’t show any signs of fear or anything like that, just plain annoyance. If anything he calls you by your full name also in retaliation for whenever you did something wrong.

Dick

Would say some stupid shit like ‘that’s not my name’ or ‘who’s Richard Grayson? I only go by Dick, dickie bird, fat ass-‘

He’s the type to look at you as though you’ve said something that went completely over his head, he would much rather that you never call him by his full name ever again and go back to using the cute pet names you’ve chosen for one another.

He acts as though you’ve just talked about another man in his presence. The dramatic twat.

He doesn’t like it at all and will purposefully ignore you until you called him those cute nicknames again and then maybe he’ll talk. Pouts and all.

You’re meant to be in a relationship with him so drop the full name and go back to calling him Dickie bird for his sake. Plz.

[arminsumi]

Can we please please please have more of bad boy Geto?? Sfw or nsfw as per your wishh

🔞 MDNI/18+

★ BAD BOY!

★ Pt. 1

★ Pairings : Geto Suguru / fem!reader

★ Synopsis : your boyfriend is a bad boy that your parents disapprove of 😈🏍️🖤

★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+, smut, cunnilingus, creampies, condoms/taking off condoms (consensual), riding his motorcycle 🥵, names (princess/baby/sl*t), some cervix rubbing/big d*ck Geto, toys (G-spot vibe), bl*wjob, degradation, corruption kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, mentions of being drunk (fluffy), +++

★ Note : i wrote this in public and felt super giggly abt it lol

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who rumbles down your street on his bike, gloved hands resting on the handles, and stares at your house. He waits and quickly sees you trotting out the front door like a princess escaping her castle. He gives you a French kiss before saying "Hey princess. Hop on."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who has watched you ride his motorcycle — no no, not in the way you think. Panties soaked. Clit squished on the seat. Rutting back and forth. "That's a good little princess. Cum on it like it's my thigh."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who takes you to get your first body piercing. He leads you by the hand and his face is alight with a devilish grin. "I can't wait to buy you pretty piercings, baby. You're gonna look so good strutting around town wearing my diamonds."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who asks after suckling on your puffy clit for a whole hour; "Baby, I think you like me too much. You know I'm a bad influence, right?"

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who lets you sit on his lap whenever you have to treat one of his black eyes. "Hey, you know what would make me feel better, baby? If you rode my lap like you ride on my bike 😇"

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who makes it very apparent that he has a tongue piercing by rolling it over your clit and through your slit over and over. He laps up your juices after making you cum, and seductively wipes the streak of your slick off his cheek with his thumb.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who loves it when your secret kinks slip past your lips. "Did you just call me daddy?" he asks and you immediately blabber apologies, but he just silences you with a rough kiss, "I can be your daddy, baby. You just lay back and take it like a good girl, okay?"

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who grins like a devil when corrupting you with new kinks, and enjoys turning your innocent kinks into something nastier.

"You're taking me so well." he praises you in a soft voice while his cockhead rubs into your cervix, "Can't believe your pussy can take so much cock. Such a greedy little cunt..." he puts his full weight on you when he nears orgasm, trapping you with his sweaty, muscular body. "Fuck, your slutty little hole is gonna milk me dry. You ready? Yeah I'm gonna give you my babies. Can't believe you wanna get pregnant. You just need a big cock stretching you out 'n that makes you happy, yeah? Aw, cockdrunk fuckin' slut... yeah I know you like it when I call you a slut, too. Nasty little slut. Take my cock, baby. Just take it."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who is also a tattoo artist and gives you your first tattoo. You have to hide it from your parents, and something about this fact makes Suguru smirk. He's put his mark on their precious girl — their daughter.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who gets off on the fact he's the bad boy corrupting someone's innocent daughter.

"Baby, you know I'm no good." he hums against your ear in an irresistible voice. "You shouldn't be sneaking around with me." he drops his voice lower and nibbles your ear, "You're being a bad girl."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who, when drunk with you, proclaims his love for you over and over and over.

"Fuck, babyyy I love you so much. Come here 'n gimme another kiss." and then he smothers you with kisses until you're making out on his parked motorcycle in the empty parking lot at night. "God, whenever I kiss you I feel like marrying you so bad..."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who treats you like you're a goddess. Wiping your tears when you cry about anything, murmuring "Please don't cry, princess." and also using this line on you when you cry from pleasure about how big his cock is, or when your eyes water when deepthroating him for the first time.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who, even after being kicked out of your house many times by your dad, still climbs in through your window to fuck you in your bed.

He fills condom after condom but then he checks his wallet and oops — he ran out of condoms. "I wanna take you raw, Sugu, please!" you paw at his abdomen and wiggle your pussy back down on his sensitive cock. He hisses through his teeth, "Fuck, okay... anythin' for my princess..." and plunges his big cock into you raw.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who has been shoved out of the front door by the collar of his biker's jacket by your disapproving parents. He makes a joke of it, putting his hands up as if he's being arrested and laughing naughtily.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who promises; "I'll come back for ya, princess." and he does. He whisks you away. You give him dolly eyes and beg to run away with him.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who stuffs a hot pink G-spot vibrator in your pussy before letting you straddle his motorcycle.

He smirks while riding, knowing that you're feeling the rumbling vibrations on your pussy as well as the buzzing of the toy stuffed inside you. Oh and he just loves seeing you struggle to dismount the seat once you're parked. "Bad girl, you made the seat all wet with your pussy." he scolds playfully.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who always unzips his pants tantalizingly slowly.

His heavy cock smacks against your cheek as soon as it's freed, it's always accidentally-on-purpose. "Sorry, princess, did that hurt?" he asks sarcastically while rubbing his tip across your glossy lips. "Spit on it." he commands, and you happily spit on his cock. "That's a good girl — kitten lick it. Yeah, just like that." he groans and tenses his abs. "Now open wide."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[dearsnow]

YOUR BAR BOYFRIEND

- after being harassed by a drunken stranger, your bar boyfriend swoops in to save the day (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is intended to be on the quieter/more introverted side, but if you’re not like that you can ignore that one line ⚠️ verbal sexual harassment, drinking).

PART 2

word count: 1,206

a/n - tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACKKKK!!!! i’m so glad to be back to writing, y’all have no idea how much i missed it. i’ll probably be a bit rusty until i find my rhythm, so please ignore the not-top-quality writing until then. also, feel free to send in requests or chat!!

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend.” You utter apologetically, side-stepping the arm of the man in front of you. He reeks of beer and a hard day’s work, his scruffy face all too unkept in the lighting of the bar. You can’t even fathom exactly why you’re in the bar in the first place- you’ve never been one to explore, but this man is making you feel like you never want to leave your house again.

Your eyes scan the room, but no one seems to notice your predicament. The bar is full of Navy men, surely one of them would be fine with pretending to help you. “C’mon, sugar, one drink. Thas’ all ya have to do. If it goes well, hey, I wouldn’t mind one fuck either.” He grins, winking. The hope that you held in your heart is quickly dissipating. “He don’t have to know.” You feel your stomach drop as he moves to grab your hand, but an firm grip shoves his fingers away instead.

“Honey, is this guy bothering you?” A voice behind you speaks. You quickly turn around.

“I… yeah.” You stutter. You’re staring right into the face of a guy in a uniform, his jaw set as he glares at the drunk through his glasses.

He moves in front of you, creating a physical barrier between you and the significantly shorter man. Relief floods you. “Then I think he’d better leave before someone kicks him out, huh?”

The intoxicated man rolls his eyes, but frantically shuffles out the door of the bar. His gait was evidently terrified.

The tension is pulled from your shoulders, and you unintentionally sigh. The guy with glasses turns around to face you. His expression is softer now that the threat is gone, and his concern is almost cute.

“Are you alright?” He asks. “I’m sorry for the pet name thing, but I overheard you and I couldn’t really just stand there and watch. I’m Bob, by the way, Bob Floyd.” He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and as you do, his hesitates through his rambling.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Bob, I’m fine. And I don’t mind.” His grip is firm but not crushing, just like his presence. You introduce yourself, and he nods like he’s desperate to commit the sound of your name to memory. The respectful tone is honestly a breath of fresh air with the raucous energy of the Hard Deck, causing your cheeks to be a few degrees warmer when you pull your hand away. Our of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his somewhat clammy hands on the sides of his pants.

“Also, I’m sorry for taking the place of your actual boyfriend. I assumed you just didn’t know where he was, so I stepped in.” His eyes search for your own, holding steady eye contact. They’re the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t actually have a boyfriend, but I thought a lie was the better choice. You saved me, and that’s all that matters.” Your voice has a certain breathy quality to it. You’ve completely transitioned from terror to being deeply attracted to the person who spared you an even more intense confrontation. Bob’s eyes widen just slightly.

He takes his hands away from his sides and motions to one of the tables in the corner, his face just the slightest bit pinker. “Would you want to sit down?”

You nod, and he leads the way. As he’s pulling out your chair for you, you can’t help but wonder how your night turned out this way. You went from having the worst night of your life to dizzily encountering the person you could only describe as being your bar boyfriend.

You just recently moved to this part of San Diego for a newfound job opportunity, completely unaware of your proximity to the Hard Deck and a Naval base. You didn’t know anyone or anything, and as someone who isn’t necessarily very outgoing, it was hard for you to adjust. Not even your coworkers were easy to make friends with, so you slowly became more and more isolated.

The bar was kind of your last resort. You didn’t expect to find anything great, and you still don’t know what compelled you to go, but some hidden part of you figured that at least you could get some form of entertainment. Finding Bob, though, you never expected.

Conversation feels easy with him. He seems like a quiet guy, but he knows exactly what to say to keep you talking, and he offers insights of his own that just further the subject you’re talking about. Words fly from your mouths, and you can say that you’ve never enjoyed talking more. You bounce from common topics like work and hobbies to deeper breakdowns of memories and experiences, your smile growing wider every second. You’re completely in a world that was built brick by brick for you and him.

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even notice the woman who rests her hand on the back of your chair until she speaks. “Bob, you of all people? Never would’ve expected you to abandon us for a pretty girl.”

Bob reddens as you turn to face her. “Sorry, Nat.”

She holds a hand out to you, which you shake. “Call me Phoenix. He’s my backseater, and apparently a lady killer tonight.”

Bob stands as Phoenix gives him a pointed look. “Sorry to steal him away from you, but he’s taken way too long of a break from our pool game. I’ll give him back to you later.”

“You say that like I’m a robot.” He grumbles, showing just a hint of disappointment at having to leave your conversation.

You wave him away. “Have fun, Bob. I’d better go anyways.”

“Wait-“ he starts as you stand up, “-could I give you my number first?”

You secretly cheer inside of your head. You nod, and he takes a pen out of his shirt pocket. “Here.” He mumbles, writing it on a spare napkin and handing it to you. His fingers brush over yours, sending electrifying sparks throughout your entire body. You could get used to this feeling, you think. His hand hovers for a split second before regretfully moving away. “It’s, uh, it’s up to you, but I’d really like it if you called or texted. I had a nice time with you.”

You tuck the napkin into your bag, eyes soft. Bob thinks he’s never seen a sight so beautiful- the sun is setting behind you, and it casts you in a golden light as your mouth quirks up. “Of course I will. I had a nice time with you too.”

Your voice is quiet, but a sound that he relishes all the same. He could’ve gotten lost in you if Phoenix wasn’t impatiently tapping her foot next to him.

She pulls him away, and though he knows he’s up for a lot of teasing, Bob can’t find it in himself to care. He just knows that he needs to see you again, and you know that no matter what, you’ll make it happen.

[vivwritesfics]

Cowgirl

He was just there to see Kate, to make sure she was all right after what happened. He didn't expect to run into the pretty cowgirl and her horse.

There was an unfamiliar white truck in the driveway. There was always unfamiliar trucks in the driveway, always some rich asshole trying to purchase the land out from under their feet.

She patted her horse's neck as she looked at the truck. Storm Par. Tye name didn't tell her as much as she wanted it to. "Come on, Gambler." She tensed her leg against the horse's side and walked him towards the barn.

It was late, so late that she knew her mother would be furious with her. Her sister was always the good one, the one with high expectations placed on her shoulders. Expectations that she'd exceeded.

Jumping from Gamblers saddle, she walked him into the barn and did everything she needed to do. Untacked him, fed him, made sure the little makeshift stable was clean and he had enough food and water for the night.

They got a small corner of the barn. The rest of it was full of Kate's stuff. She couldn't be mad about that, not when Kate's stuff was so cool. But it also served as a grim reminded that she wasn't there, and hadn't been for years.

Shutting the barn for the night, she made her way back to the house. Storm Par, she'd seen that truck somewhere before, she just couldn't put her finger on it. She tried to look in the truck, but it was too dark to see anything.

She made her way inside of the house, toed off her dirty boots and dropped her keys in the bowl. Shrugging off her jacket, she hung it over the banister and made her way to the kitchen.

Her stomach made a desperate noise as she looked in the fridge for the leftovers. "I know, I know," she mumbled to herself, setting about heating it up.

Footsteps, on the stairs. "Mom?" She called over her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late, we lost track of time."

The person didn't respond as she stirred the leftovers in the pan to heat it up. When she turned around, her breath caught in her throat.

There stood her sister. Kate, the good one, the smart one, the one that had disappeared to New York. "Holy shit," she breathed as she looked at her. "Holy fuckin' shit."

"Hi," Kate said and swallowed.

She'd imagined this moment several times, what it would be like to be reunited with Kate. Had imagined running into her arms and holding her so tight that she couldn't leave again.

But, now that they were here, she was at a loss. It didn't feel right to embrace Kate in such a dramatic fashion, didn't feel right to do anything but just look at her.

She turned and stirred the leftovers in the pan. "What're you doing back?" She asked as she began to plate it up.

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "I was nearby," she said and sat at the kitchen table, sat in the seat opposite her. "Were you out with Gambler?"

She nodded as she ate.

No, it isn't bad writing, the conversation was stale. The sisters didn't quite know what so say to each other. Where had they left off when Kate disappeared? Why had she left them behind?

She didn't mean to resent her sister for getting out, for leaving her behind. Their mother had been so distraught when Kate left for New York, but she understood why. She still had her other daughter there. Her other daughter who wanted to leave, who wanted to travel across the country and make a life for herself.

Clearing her throat, she stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow," she mumbled and took her food up to her room. Kate wasn't blonde the last time she saw her. But that seemed to be the only difference.

She looked out of her window, looked at the Storm Par truck in the drive. It must have been Kate's truck, she decided and sat at her computer.

It was so easy to find information on Storm Par. To find out who they were, to find out what they did. The what wasn't important, and the who was only kind of important. It was the why that she cared about. And, when she found that out, why the hell would Kate work for a company like this?

A sour feeling settled in her stomach as she went to bed that night.

***

"Someone's feeling fresh," she mumbled as she walked Gambler forward. But Gambler didn't want to walk; he wanted to go.

She turned him in a sharp circle, since holding him back wasn't doing anything to stop him from taking off. "You wanna run, Gamble?" She challenged, walking him to the end of the drive. He was practically galloping on the spot.

When they get to the wide open field in front of them, she let him go. Gambler went. He galloped, snorting as he went. She held the mane and let him run until he got to the other end of the field. At the other end of the field, she got Gambler back under control and began walking him back to the house. Halfway across the field, she pushed him into a nice, controlled canter.

An unfamiliar red truck was parked in the driveway, parked beside the Storm Par truck. She squeezed on the reins, slowed Gambler down as she watched the guy climb out of the red truck. The cowboy hat on his head looked performative as he placed it back in his truck.

"Can I help you?" She asked as she walked Gambler over to him.

He was gorgeous. His charm was written in smile as he looked around at her home. Upon seeing her, his charming smile dropped from his face. "Uh, yeah," he said and turned again. "Is Kate here?" He asked.

She blew out a breath and gestured for him to follow her. He did, walking a good distance behind Gambler. "Are you with Storm Par as well?" She asked as she rode, the reins in one hand and her other hand resting on her thigh.

To Tyler, she looked all the bit the cowgirl. He knew cowgirls, he was an ex rodeo man, after all. This was the kind of girl he would have chased after before he went to study meteorology. "No," he said, that charming smile slowly reappearing on his face. "I do chase, though."

"Ah," she said as she jumped from the saddle and grabbed a hold of the reins. "You're one of those freaks." It was said completely in jest, the tone of her voice suggested. She pushed open the barn doors and led Tyler inside. "Kate," she called across the barn. "Someone here for you."

Tyler watched as she took her horse to the little stable in the back of the barn. And then he turned his attention to Kate.

All the time she was in the barn, Tyler couldn't help but look at her. She had a Stetson hanging off the stable door as she gave her horse a bath. It shouldn't have been distracting but, to Tyler, it was. She was just cleaning her horse, massaging the purple shampoo into his grey coat.

Every time Kate caught him staring, Tyler had the decency to quickly look away. But Kate just grinned at him and told him her name. "She's my sister," she said quietly.

He didn't expected to get invited to dinner. "You should," said Kate as she looked further into the barn. "She's cooking." Tyler looked back at her as she grabbed a black bucket and filled it with horse food.

Her cooking was incredible. She wore her Stetson as she brought the food to the table outside. Kate set the table as she placed an array of food on the middle of the table.

"Thank you, cowgirl," said Tyler as she placed the salad down in front of him.

Her cheeks were so hot as she sat in the seat opposite him. "Don't mention it," she muttered and began plating everything up.

It was easy not to look at her when her mother was asking him so many questions, questions he was happy to answer. But she hadn't stopped looking at him. Feeling like a creep, she tried to stay focused on her dinner. But his voice. Fuck, it was something else.

"What about you?"

She hadn't even realised he was talking to her. With her mouth full, she looked up at him. "What?" She asked around the food in her mouth.

"Do you like storms?"

It probably wouldn't have been such an odd question if she had been paying attention to the conversation. She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, they're pretty. But you wouldn't catch me dead outside in one."

Tyler's entire focus was on her, as if he'd forgotten her mother and Kate were there. "I bet I could change your mind," he said, voice full of confidence.

She took the challenge, copied his pose as she leaned towards him. "Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that?" She tried to copy the expression on his face, the charming grin he had so easily mastered.

He sat back in his seat and looked towards his truck. "You'll see, Cowgirl."

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

If you're ready, all I mean is we could go, I've never craved someone's attention as much as yours.

General Warnings: an almost unbearable amount of sarcasm and snark, even more idiotic shenanigans, many affectionate empty threats of murder/violence, fluff, mentions of golf 🤢, cursing and I'm pretty sure that's it for this half

A/N: in line with the general consensus lmao this has been split, part two will be posted as soon as it's finished (lol) but it's best read as one whole fic, it isn't a multi-part situation really!! it was originally supposed to be my submission for the eras tour fic challenge (hence the graphic I'm too attached to to change) but took a different direction to the song I was given, and I missed the deadline, and I pretty much listened to the secret of us exclusively while writing this whole thing. also dropping an overwhelmingly summery fic in december might actually be my brand. keep your eyes peeled for a christmas fic in july.

very special shoutout to shea @sleepretreat I made a random comment one day that luke gives seth cohen energy, and she fanned that flame like a full time job. ily shea!! I hope this lives up to any expectations and I owe a lot to your instigating!!

AS ALWAYS!!! never proofread!! I'll probably get around to it when the thought of a spelling mistake keeps me awake at night. and also!! please let me know what you think I am like a teeny tiny little plant that can only thrive under the constant shower of validation and you don't want me to wither and die do you? (I’m kidding) (I’m not)

You kind of, sort of, think you might hate summer.

You haven’t always felt this way, though. Growing up, it had always been your favourite time of the year. 

No school? Check.

Going on vacation, sometimes multiple, all expenses covered by your parents? Double check.

Getting to do all the cool things you don’t have time for in the school year with all your friends? Concerts, festivals, beach days, bonfires on the evenings. Check, check and check again.

But 4 years ago, your whole world as you knew it was torn apart, and summers have never been the same, since.

A season that was once filled with light and companionship, never ending plans and joviality, became darker - isolated, getting yourself out of the house even if everyone else was busy, driving just to drive and making the best of your own company. 

School ended up becoming your escape, especially since you had started college - your studies and the chaos of Greek life distracting you from the calamitous state of your home life, making new friends that became like family and sticking to them like glue, where possible, clingy and possessive to the point of ruin, almost - and so the lack of it in the summers now actually sends you into some sort of warped spiral.

It’s manageable in the winter and spring, the breaks no longer than a few weeks at a time, but going home for summer is somewhat of a nightmare.

It’s hard to go back, hard to ignore the mess your mind has become when it’s just you and your mother - or, you, your mother and whatever bottle of pinot she’s 3 glasses deep into at any given time of the day - and you’re sat in a house that’s a cold reminder of the warmth that once filled it. 

But when Ellie - your best friend since moving to college, the girl who took the sister part of sorority sister to the next level at all possible opportunities over the years - found out you’d put your name down to be the caretaker for your sorority house instead of going home, she had put her foot down on your summertime sadness session.

Which is how you end up moving into her family home - spending the first few weeks integrating yourself into their routine while trying to grip desperately onto some form of your own - trying not to get too used to the feeling of such a big family when you know it won’t be forever.

You braid her little sister’s hair everyday, kick a soccer ball around with her little brother when he needs someone to stand in goal, wash the dishes with her mom, talk sports with her dad, and before long, you blend like a chameleon into their dynamic.

You pick up a summer job at the country club to cling back onto your independence. Your commute provides the solitude and quiet you‘ve grown accustomed to in the years before, a bus journey through town with headphones on, watching the scenery and admiring the greenery until you get to work, donning your navy blue polo and tucking your little notepad into your hip apron as you serve tables at the clubhouse restaurant and bar. 

It’s a much needed escape from Ellie, if you’re honest.

You love that girl with all your heart, appreciate her housing you more than you’ll ever be able to say, but if you have to hear her sit and mope about how hopelessly in love she is with Jack Hughes for even a second longer, you’re going to vomit. Or scream. Or both.

Jack and Ellie grew up together - their families close, Ellie’s dad best friends with Jack’s uncle, or something - and she’s been into him since he had teeth missing - a point she loves to hammer home when it comes to you always listing that as one of his (many, if it’s up to you) cons. Considering his job, and the fact he already lost one, not too long ago, a toothless boyfriend seems like a massive ick, if you’re honest. 

But Ellie is beyond reason when it comes to him. She worships the ground he walks on - talks about him non-stop, messages him every day, regales you with stories you, awfully, but realistically, couldn’t care less about - and it’s the only real problem about living with her.

Even beyond the summer, you two had shared a room your first two years in college, still live in the same house - and it’s a year round problem.

But being unable to escape, having your days tied to close to hers, and knowing that it’s bound to be worse with proximity, Jack back in Michigan for the summer, himself, she’s starting to drive you up the wall.

It wouldn’t bother you if you had never met Jack, but the two of you don’t exactly get along. He’s rude, and self-absorbed, and had looked down on you the first time he ever laid eyes on you, and you really shouldn’t let it get to you, but you do - the thought that your best friend is in love with an asshole, and that she won’t let you hear the end of it. 

Won’t stop whining about how he’ll never feel the same, or that she can’t handle another summer of biting her tongue, of being around him, feeling the way she does, and not being able to do anything about it.

She deserves better. 

Ellie has a heart of gold, and she deserves someone who handles it with care. If Jack Hughes doesn’t like her back, that’s his loss - but you’re kind of getting sick of telling her that.

Getting through a whole summer of it is going to be hard, you think, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than being entirely alone. So you put on a brave face, use work as your escape in the same way you usually do with school, and avoid blowing your top for as long as you can, suffering through the late nights and heart to hearts where Jack is the sole topic of discussion, and bask in the good stuff.

In the chaos of her siblings, in the closeness of her family, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms.

This summer could be okay, you’ve just got to give it a chance. 

Luke Hughes loves summer.

He loves being back home in Michigan, spending his days out on the lake, or making the trip out to parade around Ann Arbor, catching up with all his college buddies, making the rounds at all the UMich sporting events he now gets a VIP pass to thanks to his last name.

The routine of it all is familiar, and warming, and it restores a sense of normality that playing in the NHL for the past year has so brutally ripped from him, already. 

He had enjoyed starting his summer overseas - making the team for the world championships and competing beyond the abysmal end to his rookie season - had enjoyed the time away from his brothers, if he’s honest. Quinn and the Canucks making it a few rounds into the playoffs, and Jack back home recovering from getting surgery on his shoulder - and it’s the latter he needed the reprieve from.

He does love living with his brother.

Jack looks after him in ways he’ll never really be able to make it up to him for. He always has, Quinn has too, but ever since Luke got drafted to the Devils, Jack has helped him adjust to the chaos of his career without much fuss or hardship.

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

Especially when it comes to his infatuation with his best friend, Ellie.

Jack and Ellie have always been close - despite the fact she’s Luke’s age - and grew up thick as thieves, spending summers together, especially when the family moved to Michigan, and Ellie’s family were just on the other side of town. 

He’s always been obsessed with her, even if it hasn’t always been love - but these last few years have been different. Like a switch flipped in his head when Jack saw what Ellie was like when he came to visit Luke in his freshman year of college.

A version of Ellie that was no longer just his - no longer exclusive to their summer bubble, and lived in a world beyond lounging by the lake and hanging out with the Hughes family.

A version of Ellie who liked partying, liked schmoozing and charming everybody she came into contact with, liked being the centre of everyone else’s attention, not just Jack’s.

And it’s that version of Ellie that has driven Luke’s brother crazy, which has, in turn, started to drive Luke crazy. He talks about her non-stop, and it was those much needed weeks away in Czechia that almost had Luke forgetting just how stupid his brother has gotten about the whole thing.

Until he came home to Michigan, and Jack, in all the commotion with his shoulder, with ending his season early and starting his summer off alone, has worked himself into such a stupor about the whole thing that merely a week into his return, he has driven Luke up the wall. 

He’s grumpy, all the time - which leads to him being snarky, all the time. He huffs and puffs around the house so much Luke is starting to think he might need an inhaler, and he really can’t take any more.

Not when he’s making such a show of his irritation, stomping around with heavy feet and slamming doors that don’t need to be shut in the first place. 

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Luke frowns as he follows Jack into the kitchen upon his return from therapy, holding out for the doors he swings open with a little too much vigour so that they don’t swing back into his brother’s slinged-shoulder. “I thought the physio is going alright?”

“It is,” Jack huffs, storming over to the fridge and yanking it open, the jars and bottles in the door clanking together in a way that makes Luke cringe. “I’m fine.”

“Tell that to all the hinges you’re testing the limits of.” 

“Don’t start with me, Luke, I’m not in the mood.”

“You just said you’re fine.” Luke rolls his eyes as he starts to scroll through his group chat with his friends from college, trying to check who said they might be free today to get him out of this vicious circle.

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly not.” It’s interactions like this that confirm to Luke just how annoying Jack has become - because what reason does he have to be so evasive? Luke is handing him the opportunity to air out his grievances on a silver platter, and he’s rather slam cupboards and create creases in his forehead from frowning 24/7.

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

Luke wishes he never bothered asking, although he has been wondering why he’s been seeing way less of her already this summer. He had figured Ellie was away with family until he saw her at the gas station the other night - had watched from the car as Jack had what seemed like a heated conversation by the entrance. 

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

“Has she said why?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t really care. He’s just asking to get it out of the way in the hopes that Jack talking about it might lighten the load, might make his own life a little easier. 

It’s the bitter muttering of your name that captures Luke’s full attention, his neck audibly cracking at the speed in which his head shoots up, no longer caring what could possibly be going on with the boys in the group chat. 

“She isn’t going back to whatever fiery hell pit it is that she comes from for the summer, and she’s staying with Ellie’s family, therefore Ellie isn’t staying with us.”

Luke hasn’t heard your name in a while. Not since he left college last year, not since he got caught up in the whirlwind life in the NHL, when a schoolboy crush on a girl he interacted with once in his entire college career became the least of his worries.

But one utterance of it has his spine straightening, just like it would have done just over a year ago.

You’re in Michigan. You’re at Ellie’s, on the other side of town. You’re barely two degrees of separation from him.

“Why can’t Ellie bring her here?” Luke asks, throat dry and voice breaking so subtly that he hopes Jack doesn’t notice. That could be fun. Would make up for the hell his brother has been putting him through since he got here. 

Maybe a little glorious sunshine might finally get you to notice his existence. He wouldn’t mind third wheeling Jack and Ellie if you were there, too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to prove he’s worthy of your attention - too shy and too scared to do so, back in college, but he’s different, now. Confident, almost. More sure of himself.

“She hates me.” Jack huffs, “Last time we met she was giving me the stink eye all night.”

And of course it would be his brother to ruin his plans, yet again. You’ll probably hate him, too - a hatred so strong for Jack that it seeps through his entire bloodline, because Luke of all people knows he can be annoying like that. 

“Trust me, she probably doesn’t care enough to hate you,” Luke scoffs, not realising the spool of information he’s just given Jack to unravel. 

“You know her?”

“We had a class together. I know of her.”

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

Luke knows a lot about you. It’s borderline creepy, the observations he can still remember, even after so long.

He knows you like only like coffee if it’s iced, had seen you with too many clear plastic cups to count, had watched plump lips chewing at straws by the time you had finished the drink. He had even, one time, tried to zoom in on a picture of your order printed on the side in one of his many states of delusion where he had been trying to build himself up to ask you out. 

He knows you can hold your own in an argument, had watched you debate with the best of them in your business comms class, has watched you shoot down most guys that approach you with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, and has watched you take down a frat guy or two, usually in defence of your sorority sisters - who Luke noticed you’re the most protective of. 

He knows you match your perfume to the colour of your outfit, had notice you smelled citrusy like lemons in yellow, floral like roses in pink, sweet like candy in purple, and clean like fresh cotton in blue. 

He knows the pieces of hair that frame your face curl when wet from the rain. Knows you used to volunteer at the pool on the weekends it was open to the kids of the community, would teach them how to swim. He knows you listen to Taylor Swift and has heard you humming just about every song of hers he knows.

But he doesn’t really know you - not on the level Jack is assuming, when his eyes widen and hope flashes across his crystal irises.

“You know how I’m your favourite brother?”

“No,”

“And I let you live with me all year?”

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

Luke sighs, shoulders heavy and eyes rolling practically to the back of his head. “I already told you, I don’t really know her like that.” 

“C’mon, you could at least try! I’m dying here, Luke! She’s hogging all of Ellie’s time, and she won’t give me the time of day if I try!”

If only Jack knew how much time you’d ever given Luke, he wouldn’t be asking him such an absurd request.

You’re so out of his league, it isn’t even funny. He probably couldn’t convince you to light a candle in a power cut, much less to give his annoying brother a shot to prove himself.

“You’re wasting your time, Jack,” Luke responds, “I’m gonna meet Dylan at the club. No, you can’t come.”

And by the time Luke makes it out to his car, he’s relieved to have ditched that conversation, entirely. He knows what’s waiting when he gets home, what his brother is going to be like for the next few months to come, but a temporary relief is all he needs.

He had already been planning on getting a few late morning holes in at the club, and meeting up with Dylan had been a white lie, needing some alone time away from Jack’s incessant whining to think about how he was going to survive the summer - and seeing you on your break, perched on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard by the clubhouse bar, basking in the sun and talking with your co-worker, he feels like he might have just struck gold.

Since when do you work here?

He supposes since you decided to spend your summer with Ellie’s family - it only makes sense. Ellie doesn’t live too far from the club - not as close as the lake house, but closer than Ann Arbor, at least. She’d worked in the club shop last summer, even when Jack insisted he’d pay for whatever she needed while she was staying with them - had said it was nice to pass the time with something else while they all went off doing whatever - and he assumes you’re doing the same. 

It’s the first time he’s seen you in a while, outside of coming across your pictures on his Instagram feed occasionally, or the flash of your figure in Ellie’s stories. 

He had thought that, after the year he’s had, he’d be over schoolboy crushes like this - would be over the way his breath catches just at the sight of you, over the way the hairs on the back of his neck prick up and stand to attention, over the way his throat goes dry as he watches your eyes crinkle from afar, watches your lips curve up into a heart-stopping grin.

But it’s like he’s picked up straight from where he left off at the end of his college career, pining after you from afar with hearts in his eyes and feet that start to shuffle at just the thought of approaching you.

If he’s going to do this, though, he needs to be clever about it, he thinks.

Approaching you on your break, limited to the amount of time he can use to put his point across, wasting yours, doesn’t seem like something that will work.

Which is how he finds himself bypassing you completely and walking straight into the bar, offering a friendly nod to the guy stood at the front of house, and letting him point him toward the right section to be served in. 

It isn’t long before you’re in front of him, sidling up to his booth, and he had almost forgotten how pretty you are up close. Hair clipped up with loose strands framing your face, chewing at your plump bottom lip as you scribble on your notepad to get your pen to work. And your honeyed voice settling deep in the pit of his stomach, warmth spreading throughout as you introduce yourself, like he has no clue who you are, and tell him you’ll be his server, “What can I get for you?”

“Five minutes of your time?”

The Luke that spent his college years obsessing over you might have stuttered - his voice might have broke, squeaked or choked in your presence - but while his throat does feel a little dry, he’s able to maintain his cool now, even when you look up from your scribblings to meet his eye. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he has matured.

His heart might jump in his chest, his mouth might tingle, his spine might stiffen, but he holds your gaze, hoping if you see a reflection of confidence that you might give him the time of day.

He’s seen you interact with guys before, has familiarised himself with the ten-foot walls you have in place, has seen others fold and try find a long way around, but he thinks that maybe matching your energy is the way to break through. 

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

Your eyes narrow back at him as pouted lips form around a response, looking him up and down before tilting your head, and coming back with, “I all of a sudden feel the need to inform you we do have security here,” you point the tip of your pen to the entrance, where he was greeted on the way in. “I meant a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” his gaze flickers to the movement of your wrist as you click the other side of your pen, not even writing it down. “Maybe with a side of conversation?”

“I’ll go get your water,” you offer a smile, and the insincerity of it does little to cool his bravado, even if you head off with mutterings of why do I always get the creeps?

He watches you as you make your way over to the bar, not creep-like whatsoever, and he channels the nerves that sneak up on him, now that you’re distanced, through fiddling with his fingers on the table, pinching at the tips of them when you glance back over your shoulder, probably telling the girl behind the bar just how lucky you were to once again get the weirdo in your section.

It surprises him how little he cares, possessing more of your attention now than he ever has before, and if he could tell the Luke from two years ago, who spent every shared Principles of Marketing class ritualistically watching you chew on the end of your pen, that he’d be able to make eye contact without dribbling and breaking out into full body sweats, he’d have lost his mind.

He embodies a strange level of dislocated arrogance that manifests itself in his body language, sinking into the booth with arms outstretched across the back, a dangerous smirk teasing the corner of his mouth when you return, placing a pitcher of water down on the table and a glass with ice. 

“I’m Luke,” he tells you, placing a hand on his chest and doing his best to ignore the thudding he feels beneath it. “Hughes. Jack’s brother,” and when you look back over to him with a raised brow, he adds, “Ellie’s Jack.”

“And who’s Ellie?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your voice dripping in teasing sarcasm. 

“Funny,” he quips, biting back the urge to call you what he actually means. He can hardly call you cute, you’d probably pour that water straight over him. “I went to UMich, we had a couple classes together.”

Your eyes narrow again, and he knows it’s an intimidation tactic, a way to make him feel smaller than he’s acting, shrinking him down to a version of himself you can stamp your authority on, but he finds himself being resilient for once, carrying on like he isn’t affected.

He is. Massively, in fact. Just not in the way you probably want. Your indifference drives him in a way that presses into his spine, an inner voice pleading, notice me, I’m breaking through!

“Bauman’s class, Business Comms, you sat in the second row, I sat in the third, you dropped your pencil one time and I-,”

“I know who you are.”

So he’s been yapping on at you for no reason? Fantastic.

He can’t let his momentum slip, though, so he forces the corners of his lips into a victorious smile, and counters, “So you know I’m not a creep.”

“You literally memorised my seat in a class from 2 years ago, so…” 

“I have a good memory,” he’s quick to defend, fighting the urge to let his eyes linger on your pouted lips.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, “What is it you want, again?”

“I came to talk about Jack and Ellie.” He nods to the other side of the booth, and has to roll his shoulders so that his chest doesn’t inflate with misplaced hubris when you shuffle into the seat with a huff, discarding your notepad to the side as you level him with another raised brow.

“What about ‘em?”

“About how they’re hopelessly in love with each other and doing nothing about it.”

“You got hopeless right. What’s that got to do with us?”

Us. Oh, he likes that.

“I’m thinking they need a little shove in the right direction. And maybe we could be the shovers.”

You presses your lips together in faux-apology, a lopsided, patronising, adorable frown taking over your expression. “No can do, I don’t shove, I’m a pacifist.”

“A nudge, then?”

He isn’t giving up easy, no matter how much sarcasm you try to throw his way. You wouldn’t have sat down if there wasn’t something about this situation that irks you, too.

If Ellie is being only half as annoying as Jack is, he knows that you’re having a bad time of it. And you’re supposed to spending her summer with her - it can’t be easy, having your friend constantly pining over someone and refusing to do anything about it, if anything, making it your problem.

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

“Both,” he smiles, “I just figured a problem shared is a problem solved, and all.”

“How profound.” 

“C’mon, you sat down, you at least agree they’re into each other, and I know you’re staying with her this year, so I know you’ve been getting the same grief I have.”

“I’ve been on my feet 4 hours, I wouldn’t look too deep into me sitting down.” 

“Jack’s been moping around about her for years, I can’t listen to it anymore, he’s all, she’ll never like me back, this, and, I’ll never find a girl like her, that,” he whines, imitating his brother’s voice in the most annoying, high pitched tone he can muster, “I can’t take one more breakdown of her snap stories, especially not if it’s all summer if she’s not gonna be staying over, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“How supportive,” the sarcasm in your bite does little to hide the beginnings of your smile, your glare softening into what he hopes is the start of some sort of bond, a shared feeling of exasperation. Finding your footfall in common grounds.

“It’s relentless, we can’t go a single conversation anymore without him bringing her up,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, finally giving in to all the ways this is starting to grate on him. “I don’t get why neither of them do anything.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, too, relenting a little. “She talks about him so much it kind of makes me nauseous.”

“How supportive,” he mimics, nerve endings set alight when your eyes meet his over the table, and narrow in a different way, almost appreciative, almost respectable.

“Can it, Hughes,” you scoff, “Me even entertaining this conversation right now is support enough, I’ve had it in my ear for months about how she doesn’t know how she’ll make it through another summer.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If we can get them together this summer, then we’re both better off. No more whining or crying or earaches for either of us.”

“I’d hope you didn’t make your way out here with the mere promise of no more earaches, Luke.” He tries not to preen at the way you say his name. “What’s in it for me?”

“You and Ellie can stay at our lake house.” He suggests, straightening up before he leans onto the table, elbows extending so that he can rest on them, “It’s closer to the club than her family’s place, it’s gotta be better than having her siblings running around you all the time, I can even drive you to work when I’m free, if you want?”

You blink at him slowly, as if to say, and? “So I can stay at your glorified frat house, and you can be my chauffeur?” You ask with an unimpressed raise of your brow, before letting out a humourless scoff of, “What more could a girl want to do with her summer?

“What do you want?” He asks, leaning further forward.

“To go back to work and not worry about strange guys propositioning me, funnily enough.”

Luke laughs, a deep, breathy laugh that rises from the depths of his chest and comes alive in an almost-bark, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to his mouth when it comes out.

This is fun. 

There’s no way he’s letting you leave this table without agreeing - just the thought of one more singular interaction keeping him on his toes.

“Why don’t we make it interesting, then?”

“It’s about time you tried.” The quiver of your lip tells him everything he needs to know - and that’s without the entertained glint in your eye that accompanies it. You’re enjoying this, just as much.

“We could make a competition out of it.”

“A competition?” You ask, with a curious tilt of your head.

There it is, he thinks. Interest: piqued. He practically has you in the palm of his hand. Who would ever have thought, the way to a sorority girl’s heart would be a friendly little wager?

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

It’s all he can think of in the moment - petulant and part-planned, but it seems to be enough.

“Wins what?” You lean onto your elbows, your gaze levelling his as he mirrors your positioning, having to slouch a little further forward in his seat to meet your pretty eyes. 

“Whatever you want.” He doesn’t intend it to come out as low as it does, doesn’t realise how close the two of you have gotten over the table, but he sees the flicker of something cross your features as your head tilts again, eyes still locked on his as yours begin to narrow, still just as pretty even when they’re glaring at him.

“It’s what you want that concerns me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” he jibes, watching the way your lips part in preparation of another witty comeback. “What do you say?” He asks, not giving you the chance, seeing the way it makes your skin crawl that you weren’t quick enough, for once. “Are you in?”

You heave out a sigh, shoulders slumping - a tell-tale sign that you’re about to acquiesce - and Luke starts to feel his chest puff out in victory. This feels like a shut-out. It feels like the best performance of his life. 

“You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Oh definitely,” he smirks, eyes tracking you as you lean back into the booth, retreating from him in defeat, a hand running through your hair as he promises, “You’ll warm up to me soon enough, though.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“I can,” he shrugs, leaning back too. “I’ve been told I’m inevitable.”

Luke can remember, like it was yesterday, the first time he ever saw you.

Freshman year, the week he moved into his dorm at Michigan, Jack had sent him across campus to check in on how Ellie was getting on. He had arrived with some extravagant gift basket in tow, plastic wrapped, a giant blue bow tied around the top and an assortment of snacks inside, and was left knocking for at least five minutes before you showed up.

“Please tell me you’re not another stripper-gram.”

If his throat hadn’t gone so dry all of a sudden, he thinks he would have had more wits about him to have questioned the use of another - a concept that had stuck in his head for weeks until he caught wind of a story of pledges for Pike being sent around campus and forced to lure girls to their house through way of humiliating song. 

But God, you were pretty. 

Siren eyes narrowed toward him, glossy lips pouted pensively, long lashes blinking impatiently as you awaited some kind of response that didn’t come in the form of an open, drooling mouth.

“I’m Luke.”

“Right.” You had sighed, pretty eyes rolling at him. “You’re blocking my door."

“Oh, I’m-,” he stuttered, immediately stepping to the side for you to come forward and insert your key into the lock. “Does Ellie live here?” He asked, confusion etched into his features as he watched you swing the door open, turning in your place to look him over again.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

“I’ll make sure she gets it, thanks, Lu!”

And when you had taken the basket from his hands, he had been too distracted by the way your skin brushed against his to properly respond, or worry if you had called him that as a nickname or had already forgotten his name, entirely.

He then spent days thinking about you, looking for you - at parties, in the campus coffee shop, online, despite not knowing your name - trying to commit to memory the way your eyes had sparkled when looking his way, until his first Business Communications class.

He had been a little early, first week nerves playing out and his constant craving for positive validation coming to the forefront, and was watching the door waiting for the professor to arrive. He had been slouched in his seat, chin in the palm of his hand, foot tapping rhythmically against the floor, and he had almost given himself whiplash when you walked in. 

He learned your name from there, learned a lot just from watching you in that class, but never really captured your attention.

And if the Luke that has been driving you to work every few days, who has been living with you for the past two weeks - who sits around the same dining table, laughs at the same jokes cracked when you’re all lounging around the house, sits out under the same sun, drinks from the same carton of orange juice in the morning - could tell the Luke that sat pining after you all that time, all the little ways in which he’s captured your attention lately, he’d probably have an aneurysm. 

When you and Ellie moved in, Luke had been the only one allowed to touch your stuff - and there’s a part of him that knows it was mainly because you enjoyed watching him work like a packhorse, hauling your cases up the stairs and dropping them in front of you with a huff, but there’s a larger, more delusional part that thinks you preferred him to the others, maybe even trusted him.

He’s taking credit for how quick you’ve adapted to the dynamic of the house, too. Of all the different faces coming in and out - Quinn’s friends, Jack’s friends, his friends, sometimes even his parents. If you’re around, you’re pleasant. You abide by house rules, some of them stupid, but set by the brothers so long ago that they just work now - like no phones outside of your rooms so that you can be more present. You insert yourself comfortably into conversations, you form your own relationships with everyone - you and Quinn trade book recommendations, you and Jack bicker while Ellie mediates. You do your fare share of chores - laundry, dishes, cooking, even. 

And he’s so caught up in just sharing space, just being around you, even, that for those first couple weeks, he forgets why you even agreed to be there in the first place.

At least, he forgets the incentive part - because he watches mindlessly as you interfere in Jack and Ellie’s dynamic, without a care in the world for the fact that it means he’s losing.

He watches you push one of them out of the way to claim whatever seat at the table or in the car forces them to sit beside each other. He watches you taunt Jack to just the right point where Ellie interferes, coos at him protectively and he melts into her affections. He watches you agree to plans he knows you wouldn’t in a million years follow along with, just to get them together - and all he can do is admire how easy you make it seem. 

He admires when you come out wakeboarding with the group, when you let him fasten you into a vest and don’t flinch when his fingertips brush against bare skin. Watches you bite your tongue over the fact you just got your hair blow dried - a fact you have no problems relaying back to him when he drives you to work the next day, and you’re muttering in his passenger seat about lake water giving you frizz - just so you’re not dampening the mood.

And when you agree to tag along to the golf course on your day off, despite the fact it’s so close to work if could be considered triggering, and you stick by Luke’s side so that Ellie can feign some sort of incompetence until Jack takes it upon himself to correct her form.

You stand by Luke’s side, the two of you watching with mirrored expressions of almost-disgust as Jack wraps his arms around Ellie’s body, and send a shiver down his spine when you lean in for only him to hear as you say, “I’d ask if you’ve put any more thought into what you want out of our bet, but I so have this in the bag.”

The bet.

Luke hasn’t thought about it since that day in the restaurant, if he’s honest, but he had known what he wanted then.

He’s hardly going to tell you, now, though. 

If he’s ever going to take you out on a date, he doesn’t really want to force your hand - not that he has a chance, he’s fallen so behind with this Jack and Ellie thing that it isn’t even funny.

He needs to up his game, if only for the fact that you’ll no doubt catch on to his lack of efforts, soon.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he taunts, because it’s what he does best, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“And how long do you plan on keeping them up there?” You call him out so easily, tilting your head when his eyes meet yours, mischief highlighted by the sunshine that speckles in your irises. 

“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” he shrugs, “Maybe I’m letting you do all the heavy lifting so I can swoop in when those weak arms get tired.” He pokes at your side, basking in the way you scowl like you pertain any sort of threat to him.

He has you figured out, by now. 

“I didn’t have you pegged as being lazy, Hughes.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?”

“You wish,” you scoff, shoving when he dares to get too close, and it’s when Luke is biting back a full-blown grin that Ellie comes back over. 

“This sun is crazy, I think I left the sunscreen in the locker room and Jack’s nose is going all red, would you come back with me?”

You smile sweetly at your best friend and agree, only glaring at Luke over Ellie’s shoulder when she’s distracted with saying her brief, temporary goodbyes to Jack, and once you’ve turned and made your way over to the cart, he lets his eyes linger on your figure as you retreat.

The soft sway of your ponytail, the expanse of smooth skin along your legs, he’s completely hypnotised, and he needs to pull himself together, he thinks.

He tries to regain focus as he and Jack work their way through the next couple of holes, caddying their clubs around without the cart, and chatting mindlessly until Jack sighs heavily, like he’s been waiting to bring something up.

“I want to take Ellie out on the boat tomorrow,” He states as Luke tees up, resting on his club as he squints against the sun to watch his little brother, “Just the two of us, so we can talk about stuff.”

“Sounds riveting,” the disinterest in Luke’s tone is amplified by the lack of attention he’s giving overall, looking out across the green and trying to measure his swing before he takes it. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking I’d need your help for it to work.”

“I’m not being your boat-butler again,” Luke scoffs, mind immediately going to all the times their parents would make Jack take Luke out with him and his friends, and all the times he was made to wait on his older brother hand and foot to make up for crashing his hang-outs.

“I’m not asking you to tag along,” Jack scoffs, “You third-wheeling would be the ultimate buzz-kill. I thought you could be of use elsewhere.”

“You’re making whatever it is sound so fun.” 

Luke takes his swing, driving the ball and watching it soar to his desired point with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Jack watches too, stepping to Luke’s side to measure how far from his own ball it lands.

“Nice,” he mutters appreciatively as the two of them load their clubs into their stand bags. “I need you to keep Regina George busy, distract her or something, she’s stuck to Ellie like glue, it’s beyond annoying.”

If only he knew, Luke thinks, a worry in the back of his mind about how his brother owes more to you than he even realises. 

“You worried she’s gonna make her see sense?”

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

“I’m worried she’s gonna ruin the good vibes like she usually does and I won’t be able to bite my tongue from saying something and looking like the asshole.”

Distracting you isn’t the worst thing he could be doing with his time, Luke thinks. It’s not like he has to go all out, you’ll no doubt be hanging out around the house and the two of you can hang together. All he has to do is keep you off your phone. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve adapted pretty well to mimicking the guys when it comes to staying off theirs.

It ticks off the box of trying to fight for a scrap of your attention. With no one else around, you’ll have no choice but to entertain his company.

And it puts him in front of your little race - lending a helping hand to Jack’s plans to talk to Ellie is surely the same as getting them together. It’s all falling so perfectly into his lap. He isn’t being lazy.

But he can’t let Jack know that, so he heaves out a sigh and offers a slow shake of his head for dramatic effect. “Fine,” he groans, “But you owe me. Big time.”

You’re starting to find it harder and harder to pretend like you don’t want to be at the Lake House.

If you’re being honest, you don’t entirely know why you’re even trying to keep up pretences, but using your disinterest as armour has become like second nature over the years, and you’re hardly going to stop now.

Even if there are already so many little things about being there that are starting to wear you down.

Quiet, early mornings, for one - birds chirping just outside your open window, sun rays pouring in through sheer curtains that flow in the slight breeze, that light feeling that blows through your chest when you’re sat out on the deck behind the house with a fresh cup of coffee, looking out over the still lake and basking in the peace of it all.

And even when it’s not so peaceful, when the kitchen is full of bodies swerving around each other to try and throw together some sort of breakfast spread - pastries and fruit, bacon and eggs, various boxes of cereal on the counter. Quinn had even made a whole batch of pancakes one morning, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t come down every day since hoping to see him donning that same frilly apron that Cole had draped around his waist and working his magic with a pan. 

You’ve never really been a part of such a full house. You had been an only child for so long - and by the time your parents split, and it was just you and your mom, on the days she wasn’t already at work when you got up - and were so ingrained in your own routine in the morning that you think you might actually need the chaos to function better. The rush of bodies, the arguments over who drank the last of the juice, the bickering over who’s turn it is to do the next grocery run - it’s a kind of entertainment you haven’t been privy to in a long time. 

Being kind of disconnected from everything else isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, either. You’re not attached to your phone, checking socials to see what everyone else is doing, to see if your dad has sent any messages yet this summer, and you find yourself connecting a little more with the people around you and leaving your family stress on the back burner. You’re more focused on what’s in front of you, and your relationships with other people. With Ellie, with some of the guys in the house, with your friends at work, even.

And it’s nice to be closer to work too. You don’t have to rush around trying to make the bus - Luke has been keeping his word and driving you to the club most days, and where he can’t, either somebody else has offered, or you’ve just ridden one of the bikes in the garage that the boys said were free to use - the helmet hair is an easy fix when you have access to the locker rooms.

It’s an adjustment, for sure, getting used to being in a full house. Especially this one - with a constant revolving door of faces, friends of the brothers switching out week by week to come and stay, departing just as you’ve started getting to know them with a promise of dropping by again soon.

So far, you’re almost at double-digits for the names you’ve had to memorise. Some of them you were already familiar with, guys from Michigan who you already knew or knew of, but others were more Jack or Quinn’s friends that you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before now.

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

He had arrived a couple of days after you and Ellie moved yourselves in, closer to Jack than the other two brothers, you had noticed, and was going to be staying longer than any of the other visitors - having his own designated room in the house, similar to you girls.

You like Cole - he’s good fun, can take a joke unlike his supposed best friend, and has the kind of smile that almost gives you a buzz whenever it’s flashed your way. Your first few interactions with him were seemingly pleasant, despite Jack constantly in his ear with a hardened glare pointed your way and no doubt unsavoury words uttered. Cole would just shrug him off, laugh, meet your eyes and drop a wink your way - a gesture you’d usually squirm and cringe at, but Cole kind of pulls it off. 

He joins in when you chirp Luke, too - which, if your honest, is your main source of entertainment since arriving, so your interactions with him grow day by day.

You haven’t really spent any one-on-one time with Cole yet, though. You were hoping to, before he left to visit home for the weekend - for no other reason than to get the scoop on something you’d happened upon at work last week - and had planned on asking him to hang out on your day off. But with Cole now gone for a few days, Jack and Ellie off doing god knows what, Quinn and Luke working out wherever, you have no choice but to spend your free Sunday lounging around the house, trying to find something to suppress your growing boredom.

You start with your nails, painting them a summery orangey-red and doing your toes to match, then do your laundry, abiding by house rules that you rotate the loads between the machines, and fold out whoever’s clothes were last in the dryer and place them in the hamper on the side. 

You’re hoping you haven’t had to fold Jack’s underwear but you decide to live in blissful ignorance - trying to identify the load based on the rest of the clothing in there is impossible when they all share, so it kind of works in your favour. 

You FaceTime your mom for almost an hour, getting an update on what she’s been up to with work, and giving her updates on how your summer is going, trying to focus on your time at the club and Ellie so she doesn’t worry too much again that you’re spending your summer in a house filled with boys. 

And by the time Luke and Quinn come back from their workout, you’re in the lounge, 50 pages deep into a book you really couldn’t care less about, but there’s something in you that refuses to beg one of them for company, so you suffer in silence.

Even when Luke does join you, throwing himself down onto the opposite side of the couch you’re occupying and pushing your feet off his side like it’s his sole purpose just to annoy you.

“I was comfortable there, asshat,” you frown, lifting your feet back into their previous position and using one to give him a light kick to his thigh.

“Yeah, well, I hardly want your feet all up in my business while I’m trying to relax,” he sighs, sinking into the cushions with hands clasped behind his head, biceps flexing and tightening the arms of his t-shirt in a way that momentarily catches your eye. You’re thankful for his closed eyes, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you divert your attention back to the mundane words on the pages in front of you.

“And yet here you are when there are 2 other couches.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to be near me.”

You try to ignore him, pulling your feet a little closer to your body and focusing back on the book, but it’s hard when Luke has such a presence. You feel the little looks he keeps sending your way like a physical touch, and the couch shifts with every slight movement he makes, so when he constantly shuffles, you start to think he wants your attention.

Of course he wants your attention. This is Luke Hughes.

“Are you just sitting down here to annoy me?”

He lights up, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask, and shuffles in his seat to face you, fully, bouncing in place like a puppy being teased with a tennis ball. 

“I’m actually trying to distract you, if you must know.”

“Bold of you to assume you have enough of my attention to be distracting in the first place,” you scoff, trying not to react to the way he smirks in your peripheral, the words in front of you all blurring together. If you were actually focused on them, you’d have lost your place, already.

“I think you pay more attention to me than you’d like to admit.”

“That’s some ego you’ve got on you, Hughes,” you narrow your eyes as you look above the edge of your book, “Is that what you spend that big NHL paycheque on, charisma classes? How to flirt for dummies?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

Sometimes biting back at Luke comes like second nature, words first, thoughts after - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way. It’s easy, the back and forth, and you can’t really think of an instance with him where you’ve sat in a lingering, awkward silence. You’ve really grown to hate silence, lately.

“You wish.”

“You think I’m charismatic,” he teases in a sing-song voice, knocking at your knee and wiggling his eyebrows when you glare at him. 

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m distracting you from?”

“I don’t really care,” you lie, eyes darting back down and diverting the attention he so desperately craves away from him.

“Jack wanted to take Ellie out on the boat.” He says, ignoring your attempts to ignore him - pushing your buttons like a full time job. Like an operator for your last nerve.

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

“Whoop-de-,” Luke straightens up, like a whack-a-mole with his head positioning itself over the top of your book, and you kind of wish you had one of those soft mallets right about now. It would be so satisfying to bonk at his head, you think. “What do you mean, whoop-de-doo, is this not what you agreed to be here for? To get them together?”

You scoff, flicking to the next page of the book in feigned disinterest. “He isn’t asking her out today.”

This is the exact something you had wanted to talk to Cole about - whispers in the staff lounge at work earlier in the week doing the rounds would imply otherwise, but your main source is kind of a gossip, and you’re not entirely sure of their reliability, despite the few degrees of separation to the subject at hand. 

Mutterings of Jack and Cole and their little country club connections. 

You can hardly ask Luke of all people if his brother is as much of a man-whore as everyone is making out. Cole was a safe bet - he’d probably just tell you straight up what they’re up to, wear his pride like a shining gold medal. He’s upfront about his promiscuity, at least. Luke is more protective. Of himself, of his family, you’re not entirely sure. There haven’t been as many whispers about him. 

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he’s a spineless idiot,” you retort, eyes flicking up momentarily to take in his furrowed brow. “No offence,” comes out of nowhere, and you surprise yourself with the instinct to lessen the blow of your words for the first time in forever.

“None taken, he’s only my flesh and blood,” Luke huffs, “You’re just jealous I’m winning our bet.”

“Sure,” you drawl, eyes widening to emphasise the sarcasm as you make a point of angling your head to the next page, like you’ve taken a single word in for the past five minutes. “He’s been talking to one of the girls from work. There’s no way he’s doing that and asking Ellie out, unless he’s completely brain dead.”

And when you look back at Luke, that furrowed brow has shifted into a full blown frown, pouted lips and eyes cast down as if he’s trying to figure everything out in his head. 

It’s probably the pout that has you cushioning your words, once more.

“Again, no offence, I doubt it’s in your DNA.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m no bio student but I don’t think there’s a genetic marker for being a fuckboy.”

“No, about him talking to one of the girls at the club. He didn’t tell me that.”

Why does he have to sound like that? Let down and unsure, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s like the tone he carries goes straight to your fingers, clasping the book closed without marking your page - because what business do you have carrying on that charade?

“Do you guys tell each other everything?” You ask as you throw the book until it lands on the coffee table with a gentle thud, shuffling until you’re sat against the arm of the couch with knees bent in front of you, giving him your undivided attention and feeling guilty that it might not be enough.

“I thought we did,” he scratches at the back of his head, nervously, “He literally told me yesterday he was taking her out to talk about stuff, why would he make a point of asking me to keep you busy if he’s not serious about asking her out?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer to a question about your brother not being serious.” 

“Who’s the girl?” He asks, ignoring your comment despite the slight ghost of a smile you see flash into the corner of his mouth. 

“Jessica, she works at the pro shop, apparently they’ve been texting all summer.”

You know for a fact that since you’ve started paying attention, you’ve seen Jack on his phone a lot for a guy who chirps you for your own screen-time, and who has enforced the house rule of no phones outside your room like a prison guard yells out no touching at visitation. So it sort of checks out. You’ve tried to sneak a peak, but he’s protective of his stuff like a yappy little dog with attachment issues at the best of times, so you haven’t really put too much effort into it.

“There were a few people talking about it in the lounge at work the other day,” you shrug, “One of the girls talking about it is Jess’ best friend, so not exactly from the horse’s mouth, but I don’t think she’d be spreading lies about her friend around like that.”

“Can you find out?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been trying.” That gets a full smile, a small chuckle that lifts his shoulder, even, “I was gonna grill Caufield about it but he’s gone. But I know you guys have plans when he gets back tomorrow, so if you want to take Cole I’ll hack away at the grape vine at the club?”

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

Hacking away at the grapevine is really a lot more like plucking absentmindedly at an overgrown patch of grass when it comes to workplace gossip. 

By the end of your shift, you’re leaving the club with a fist clutched full of loose blades, fingers stained green from the amount of information people were willing to ‘fess up.

Liam who works behind the bar had overheard a conversation where Jack had mentioned Jessica, but could only give you useless tidbits, like how he had to stop by the shop for a new putter, and Jess had been the one to ring him up.

Hardly incriminating, but you had a feeling it would be a small piece of a way larger puzzle. That, and guys are notoriously useless at gossiping, there’s definitely more to that story than Liam could even comprehend in his tiny man brain.

Cassidy who works at the front desk had seen Jack and Jess talking in the main lobby last week, definitely flirting, she had said - with hair flips and giggles galore - and way too familiar to be new. 

Much better.

Paola who has the alternative shifts in the pro shop was more than willing to take up ten minutes of your time ranting how Jess’ work is never fully done when it comes to a handover, and she spends half her time on her phone. Kiran, who works the bev cart every Monday, said Jack is always one of the most charming in their golfing group, so it’s no surprise if he is exchanging texts with girls from the club. 

You get dirt from most corners of the place, and it leads you all the way back to your station, to reservations set for the restaurant, where tonight’s list - unfortunately a shift you’re not set to work, although you very much question the serendipity of that - has Jack’s name down at 7pm. A table for 2 in the back corner, shielded from prying eyes and intimate.

And if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already worked a full shift, you would consider staying just to get the full scoop. 

You know Ellie isn’t going to be the one sat across from him, she’s been sending you pictures all day of her various hauls for her quiet night in. New paints and pencils, a sketchpad, some candles - she has all intentions of working on her watercolour technique.

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

Imagine his face, you think, picturing wide, panicked eyes as you roam up to his table to take his order. He’d actually crap his pants. 

But, it’s another set of eyes that you picture when you start to enjoy the scheming a little too much. The sad, teary eyes of your best friend, when she finds out the guy she’s been hung up on for half her life, who she has all but convinced herself isn’t interested, and is - absurdly - ‘far too good’ for her - yeah, right - is dating other girls while taking her out on not-so-platonic boat dates only the day before. A boat date that she had come back to your room, flung herself onto her belly on the bed, and kicked her feet as she gushed all about it. 

So you make your way back to the house after a long day, and resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to, yet again, get all your information on Jack’s date second hand.

You primed Cara, your colleague in the restaurant, to keep an eye out, and she promised to send updates on her breaks, and you have been holed up in yours and Ellie’s shared bedroom trying to keep her busy when there is a persistent knock at the door, and a mop of soft, curly brown hair pokes in before his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Luke!” Ellie chimes, cheery and all too blissfully unaware of the potentially horrific circumstances you’ve stumbled upon. “You need to borrow my conditioner again?”

You scoff from your position on the bed, watching a slight pink hue flush up Luke’s neck.

“What? No,” he denies, running a hand through his hair and seemingly frowning a little at the way it feels. “I’m going to the store, wondered if either of you needed anything?”

“Nah, thanks, we’re good,” Ellie smiles, attention diverting straight back to where she’s drawing in her sketchbook, missing the way Luke widens his eyes and tilts his head as if to encourage you to take him up on his offer.

“Can I come with?” You shuffle from your position on the bed, swinging your legs out from beneath you and over the side as Ellie looks back at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted something.”

“Someone’s got to show the poor guy what’s what on the haircare aisle, El.”

And you’re thankful that Ellie has settled herself in for the evening already by 6:45, showered, pyjamas on, otherwise she might have tried to tag along, too, just for something to do.

You swipe her phone before she can notice and hide it under your pillow before you leave, thinking it might reduce the risk of her getting bored and texting Jack, or, worse, checking his location.

A trip out gives you the chance for you and Luke to debrief each other on your findings of the day - or, as it turns out, just you, because Luke Hughes might be the worst information-gatherer on planet Earth.

Finding his life’s niche in hockey is fortunate, because he definitely wouldn’t cut it as an investigator.

“He just said he didn’t know anything,” Luke shrugs of his earlier encounter with Cole, and you try not to gape at him in disbelief as he fiddles with the screen in his BMW, scrolling through the interface in search of the nearest store. 

You swat his hand away with a scoff, typing in a destination, “And you believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“You’re about as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hughes. What is it with guys and gossip, are you all really that dumb?”

“That’s the address for the club,” he points out, ignoring your jibe as he starts driving.

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

“Because, thankfully, one of us is a good detective.” You snark, “Jack’s there.”

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

“No he isn’t,” Luke frowns, attention momentarily taken from the road as he looks over at you. “I’ve been with him all afternoon, he would have told me if he had a date, tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d he say he was going when he left, earlier?”

He hadn’t been home when you got back from work, but that had been around an hour ago. You figured if he was sneaky enough to book into the restaurant when you’re not working, he’d have his wits about him to avoid you, entirely. Whenever the two of you cross paths, you can’t help but try get on his last nerve, and he’s hardly going to want to start his evening in a foul mood.

“To get his hair cut.”

Jesus Christ, you think, he’s so lucky he’s cute.

“You’re so clueless. He’s at the lounge with Jessica, the girl I told you about yesterday.”

“And what are we supposed to do about that?”

“We’re gonna supervise. And maybe interfere, if necessary.” 

You don’t really have a plan, but it seems like the right thing to at least get a look in as to what the hell Jack thinks he’s doing, especially if you’re going to carry on with this whole plan of getting him and Ellie together. If he’s seriously entertaining other girls while making out to Luke that he only has eyes for Ellie, your plans might have to change. You’re not sure if Luke will be on board with the new path you’re willing to take, but you’ll be happy to kill his brother on your own.

“Interfere?” Luke’s eyes are wide, but he keeps them on the road, fingers flexing against the wheel. “I just came out for chips to make nachos, not play spies!”

“Cara’s working tonight, she said she’d keep an eye on them for me. I bet if I cover her hosting shift on Friday she’d sabotage their date. We’d just have to sit back and watch.”

“Oh,” Luke’s brows furrow, as if it’s taking any consideration at all to mess with his brother. “You really are an evil genius.”

You try not to think too hard about who’s been spewing that rhetoric already in his ear, and instead you smile when he casts his eyes your way, proud and pleased. 

“Thank you.”

It takes another 15 minutes to get to the club, considering Luke’s best Driving Miss Daisy impression, so their date is already underway by the time Cara is ushering you to a booth in the far corner, where you can see Jack’s table, but he shouldn’t be able to see yours, and agreeing to play along.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” She asks as she hands over two menus, and you’re too interested in trying to gauge the vibe at the other table while Luke looks over his.

“Two diet cokes, shaved ice, no lemon,” he says, and you can’t help but frown at the way the specificity of that order rolls so easily off his tongue. That’s your order.

“Any food?”

“Could we just get some nachos, please?” You ask, sliding your menu across the table without even looking, not wanting to give Luke too much of a chance to peruse his own out of fear you’ll be here all night. “And extra picante on the side.”

“Extra guac, too,” Luke adds as Cara scribbles the instructions on her notepad, “And some of those chicken tenders, and extra ranch. And maybe some fries. Yeah, chilli fries. And breadsticks.”

You level him with a glare, already proven right in your decision not to give him too much time to think about what he wanted. He’ll order every appetiser on the menu, if given half the chance. 

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

“Sure thing, should be around fifteen minutes. They only just ordered,” she points her pen back to Jack’s table, where Jess is leaning onto the table and Jack is leaning back in his seat - heavy on the distance but even heavier on the eye contact. That little shit.

“Does he have any allergies?” You lean onto your own table to ask Luke, quirking a brow up when his eyes darken in response, mischief swirling in his emerald irises.

“Absolutely not,” Cara interjects, “I’m doing this so you cover my job, not make me lose it.”

“Let me guess, he ordered the steak, medium-rare?” Luke asks, and she nods, hesitantly. “Char it.”

“Won’t he complain?”

“He’ll just grumble to himself about how tough it is. It’ll put him in a bad mood. That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head to ease Cara’s worries despite what you really want is for Chef Michael to poison the cut, entirely. If Jack Hughes wants to play with your best friend’s heart, you’ll play with his gut. But you can settle for burnt meat. Luke can work some sort of magic with that, you think, convincing Jack of all people that any first date that resulted in him coming home all sour-puss and sulky should never result in a second. “Bad mood. Bingo.”

“Fine,” Cara grumbles, “But if he even thinks about asking for a manager, you’re covering my next 3 Fridays.”

She storms off to the kitchen, and you and Luke simultaneously sink into your seats, attention immediately diverted back to the table in the opposite corner of the room.

“We should have kept the menus,” Luke mutters from across the booth, “Could have hidden behind them.”

“What are we, children?” You snark, “You can’t think of any more creative ways to stay hidden?”

“I heard PDA makes people pretty uncomfortable,” he leans onto the table, dropping you a wink when you glance over out of the side of your eye, “We should make out to throw everyone off the scent.”

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

The way you can convince people to do your bidding with a mere flutter of your eyelashes or a flash of pearly teeth and a glimmer in your irises.

He has trouble, sometimes, skirting around his honesty or hiding his intentions - and he knows that’s not a bad thing, knows that being clear and truthful is an admirable trait, if anything - but the way you persuade others to bend to your whim with intricate white lies based on observations you’ve made or intel you’ve gathered is a praiseworthy level of genius. 

It had taken such minimal effort for you to get Cara on side, to convince her that being a little clumsy is hardly grounds for her termination, and spilling a little of Jack’s drink close to the edge of the table - close enough that it drips onto his pants and Luke can see the steams of frustration exuding from his brother’s skin from all the way on the other side of the restaurant - or bumping her hip on the edge of their table every time she passes are really just harmless irritations, not likely to cause actual complaint. 

You had used the mere tone of your voice to convince Liam from behind the bar to squeeze a little lime in Jack’s water, knowing just from observing him back at the house that he hates the taste, face curling in disgust at even the slightest hint of it, and Luke had watched your eyes gleam in delight every time Jack took a sip of his drink and tried not to spit it back out, seeking much needed reprieve to swallow down the world’s toughest steak cut. 

You’d even worked your magic on him, pouting your lips when the food had arrived at the table, and he had initially declined to share his chicken tenders with you - your grumblings at him ordering enough to feed the five thousand fresh in his memory, but so easily wiped away by the soft, sad look in your eyes, and your whining of, “But I didn’t realise how hungry I’d get. Plotting and scheming is hard work, Luke.”

You ended up eating half, but he could hardly complain - you were doing the heavy lifting out of the two of you.

He was sitting back and enjoying the show - enjoying your company, if he’s honest. Enjoying the way his gangly limbs would sometimes knock into yours under the table, enjoying the way he kept getting little nuggets of information out of you while you were distracted, sipping at your coke and making little comments about yourself, about your life, without even realising you’re doing it. 

And an unplanned, pseudo date ends up being the first time he thinks he’s had a glimpse at the real you.

The you who knows more about hockey than you’ve ever let on before, who comes back to his stories with contextual questions about the game, even has references to a few games of his back at Michigan, and keeps the conversation flowing despite your feigned disinterest, and a constant gaze cast his brother’s way.

That would usually drive him crazy.

He’s experienced it so often that he has come to expect it, people only entertaining his company to acquire the attention of his brothers, but that’s not what you’re doing. Not really.

You pay more attention to Luke than you’d ever let on.

You ask him about his time in Ostrava at the beginning of summer, even though he’s only mentioned being overseas once while you’ve been staying with him - an offhanded comment from Quinn at breakfast that you must have taken on. Ask him about all the food he tried while out there, when he mentions he doesn’t like picante, and you use it as a springboard to talk about what sort of spices he does like, or if he’s the type to try things or stick to what he knows. 

You ask him about being the youngest sibling, and it stems from an offhanded comment Luke had grumbled about always being the last to be clued in on stuff, about how Jack had probably confided in Quinn about his extracurricular activities at the club, and didn’t trust him enough to let him in on the fact he’s going out on dates. You ask if he usually figures things out himself before he’s told them, if that’s what makes him so good at observing and analysing stuff, and he hadn’t ever realised he was particularly good at those things before you brought it up. But then you reference a day in class one time, where he had picked up on something in a textbook that you never would have figured out in a million years, and his heart leaps at the praise you don’t even realise you’re giving him.

You sandwich your perceptions in your usual snark, but he doesn’t miss the slight curve of your lips anymore when he bites straight back, knowing now that there is some part of you that feels the nip of his teeth, that acknowledges his existence beyond him being a speck of inconvenience in your peripheral.

And he gets a little carried away in that acknowledgement - stops paying attention himself to what is happening on the other side of the room and tries to focus on what’s in front of him; the girl he pined after his entire college career, sat sharing nachos and pretending not to know him at a level you so clearly do.

You must get carried away, too, because neither of you notice Jack’s date wrapping up until Luke catches him hand his card over to Cara.

He’s lost count of how long the two of you have been at the club, now - way longer than it takes to get chips from the store, that’s for sure - and all he does know is that if Jack catches either of you two here, after a night of mishaps, bad food, spilled drinks and Cara’s incessant clumsiness, he’ll know who’s to blame. 

“We better get out of here before he sees us,” Luke sighs, not entirely wanting to wrap up his time with you but knowing he doesn’t really have a choice.

“I’ve just got to pick something up before we head back,” you reply, edging out of the booth at the same time Luke does, “I’ll meet you out front just give me two minutes?”

“Be quick,” he tells you before you scurry off, and he flags down Cara, who tells him you already put your bill on your worker tab. He tells her to switch it to his, and that he’ll drop by tomorrow to pay it off, promising to leave her a good tip for her stellar services for the evening. 

He waits where you asked him to, making sure to stick to the side of the entryway where he can duck for cover if his brother makes an appearance - but you show up first, skipping out from the staff lounge with a bag of tortilla chips in hand.

“Let’s go, Lukey boy!” He follows you out like a puppy on a leash, all the way to where his car is parked, almost bumping into you when you stop and turn without warning, stretching your hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you crazy?” He snorts, “You’re not driving my car!”

“I know a shortcut!” You reason, stepping forward and making a grabby motion with your fingers, “We gotta beat Jack home, I just paid another server $20 to spill a whole drink on him before he leaves and he’s gonna be pissed. I want to see the meltdown back at the house and you drive like a nun!”

Luke doesn’t know why he gives in so easy - it could be the proximity, the way you’re so close you have to look up at him, eyes twinkling softly under the moonlight, voice carrying over to him like a siren song, or it could just be because he’s weak - but he hands his keys over with a roll of his eyes and climbs into the passenger side, sliding the seat back with a huff to accommodate his long legs and watching as you adjust the driver’s side, cringing at the way he’s gonna have to figure out exactly how he had it before.

You drive like a maniac, to the point where Luke has to screw his eyes shut as you use some back road, can hear the squelch of mud beneath his tires and squirms at the thought of having to take it to the car wash, tomorrow. 

But you make it back to the lake house much quicker than if he were driving, he’ll give you that. So quick that you feel comfortable enough to turn to him once you’ve pulled up, in no rush to unbuckle and get out to get inside before Jack gets home.

“Just so we’re clear, this is a point under my name. You’re not claiming tonight as a win.”

Luke chuckles, turning in his seat to face you, features illuminated by the dim overhead light that turns on when the engine switches off and a slight flush of exhilaration to your cheeks. There’s no pretending you haven’t enjoyed yourself, not tonight. “But the steak thing was my idea?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be sat watching baseball and thinking he was getting a 3 hour haircut, you can’t seriously be trying to steal this from me, I thought you athletes had integrity!”

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

If Luke’s honest, he hasn’t really thought about your whole wager all night. He’s been too wrapped up in the idea that his brother had lied to him. Twice. And now his whole plan for the two of you all summer has potentially been messed up. But hearing you mention it, hearing you talk about it like it hasn’t been flushed down the toilet by his brother’s idiocy sparks something in him - excitement, anticipation. He doesn’t want to let this go.

“I actually think we made a good team back there,” he shrugs, eyes meeting yours to gauge your reaction to the thought of doing this together.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re gonna lose,” you retort, eyes sparkling with those same sentiments he had just felt. 

“Probably,” he acquiesces, “Also ‘cause you kind of scare me a little after tonight, last thing I wanna do is go up against you when you have the power to turn half the country club against me.”

You smirk, and his eyes are drawn to the plush curve of your lips, watching them as they form around the softly spoken words, “God forbid you can’t go a round of golf without your caddy breaking down.”

“Exactly.” He mutters back, glad to see your gaze is still zeroed in on him when he meets it again. He can feel the thump thump thump of his pulse in his ears, and takes a deep breath before proposing, “Partners?”

He cocks a brow and holds his pinky out over the centre console, and you eye the digit, sceptically, narrowing your eyes into a glare before raising them to meet his. “Fine,” you grumble, then hook your little finger through his and tighten it to shake, a slight yelp of surprise filling the car when he tugs, your lax arm giving way until your knuckle touches his lips and he kisses it.

“Ew,” you whine, snatching your finger back as he fills the space himself with a hearty chuckle, wiping it on his hoody in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“No take backs,” he smiles, victorious, with his chest puffed out, primed for you to swat at with the flex of your hand, and the two of you are only pulled out of the moment by the sound of tyres pulling up on the gravel behind you, both of you stumbling to unbuckle yourselves and climb out of the car. 

Jack is exiting his own vehicle behind, and stomps down the driveway, shouldering past you until he realises who he has passed, turning back and looking at you with suspicion cast across his features. 

“Where have you twobeen?” Jack asks, glancing a curious eye between the two of you before meeting Luke’s gaze, levelling him with an inquisitive glare.

“We went to the store for chips,” Luke holds the bag up, the crinkle loud enough for Jack to hear, and he feels an insurgence rising within him, spurred on by the way his brother is looking at him like he’s the one who should be ashamed of his actions. “Nice haircut.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair, surprise crossing his features in a brief flash at the call out, like he had never even expected Luke to notice his hair looks no different to the last time he saw him mere hours ago, like he would never even need to question his alibi.

“Oh, yeah, I got the day wrong. Went out for dinner instead.”

“On your own?” You ask from beside him, your presence giving Luke the kind of back up he very much needs right now, a new target for Jack’s narrowed eyes that takes the heat off of him a little, lessens the burden of lying to his brother - despite Jack being the one who started it, it doesn’t make Luke feel any less bad, doesn’t quell the need to word vomit and admit to all the ludicrous things he had done to ruin Jack’s night. “You end up having a little accident there, bud?”

Luke tries not to outwardly laugh as his attention is diverted to the wet patch that still soaks up the front of Jack’s pants, lips quivering as he presses them together, oblivious to the steam pouring out of his brother’s ears as he immediately gets riled up. 

“One of your esteemed colleagues at the club apparently lacks hand eye co-ordination. Plus, some of us like our own company,” Jack scoffs, “Some of us can go an evening without the need to annoy anybody else.”

“It’s not news to me that you’re in love with yourself, dude,” you retort back, entirely unbothered by his jibes. “Bet you’ve got all sorts of riveting thoughts swirling around that ginormous head of yours, must keep you busy for hours on end.”

“At least I have thoughts, at least I’m not some airheaded-,”

“Hey,” Luke’s tone is authoritative when he calls out, stern and demanding, “Cut it out, Jack.”

“She started it!”

“She asked you a question,” Luke frowns, disappointed with how quick his brother had taken to escalating the situation, all in an attempt to deflect the attention from his own deception. He knows you don’t need him to protect you from Jack’s sharp tongue, knows you can very much defend yourself, but he needs to vent his frustrations, somehow, without causing a bust up on the driveway. “You could have just give her a straight answer without biting her head off.”

He feels like you’re a little closer, all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know it’s the slight brush of your arm against his or if it’s something else, something less tangible - but it warms him, all the same. Steadies the static thump of his heart in his chest at the thought of starting an argument with his brother out of nowhere. 

“Whatever,” Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m going to bed.”

And as Jack turns, Luke sees your lips part, ready to send him off with the last word until a large hand clamps itself over your mouth, and your wide eyes meet his over the sides of his fingers.

He’s not sure why he did it, why he all of a sudden feels comfortable enough to cross the boundaries of purposeful touch, but he doesn’t entirely regret it.

Plush lips press mid-word against his palm, and your skin is soft, cheeks warming ever so slightly beneath his hand.

“You gotta let him go, there’s no use fighting with him tonight, it’s better to drag it out. Didn’t think I’d have to teach you about the beauty of the long game,” he says, voice low as he watches his brother retreat to the house, waiting until he’s safe inside to retract his hand. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Your brother’s an asshole,” you grumble, “Full offence.”

“No arguments from me,” Luke concedes, holding his hands as if surrendering to the fact, himself. “What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, stepping a little down the drive and toward the house before turning back to him. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, partner.”

There have only been a handful of times in your life you’ve ever been thankful for work coinciding with huge plans, but when the group had decided that they wanted to go see Zach Bryan play Ford Field, you had thanked your lucky stars you had been put down to work a full shift at the restaurant and wouldn’t be able to go.

Not only for the fact that he isn’t really your thing, but for the fact that you’re finally getting a full evening to yourself.

So far, in your time at the house, most evenings have been spent with everyone else - group dinners, game nights, movie nights, even a couple of girls nights with just you and Ellie scattered in there, but nothing on your own, yet. 

You can’t wait. And with an empty house, you have a full pamper night planned. You’ve been stocking up odd bits on your trips to the store over the past couple of weeks - sheet masks, aromatherapy candles, you’ve even picked up some flower petals from the spa at the club, in the hopes that you might even treat yourself to a relaxing soak in the bathtub. You can play whatever music you want, make whatever food you want, sit wherever you want in the house, out on the deck, overlooking the lake with a book in hand and no chirpy voices in your ear all night.

You can’t wait.

The only downside is not having a ride home, but you haven’t finished too late. The sun will still be up for a couple of hours, and a walk in the simmering heat back to the house doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Your feet carry you with ease down the back roads, and you even make the journey without your headphones on, taking in the scenery, the blissful peace of your surroundings, so lost in the tranquility of it all that the sight of Luke washing his car on the drive when you get home dampens your mood as quick as a torrential downpour of rain, flash floods coursing through your evening and wrecking your plans entirely. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you approach, sneakers crunching against the gravel as Luke pauses the hose, looks over at you with the sun in his eyes, and you have to remind yourself he’s just ruined the one night you have for yourself before you get distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless.

“Washing my car?” he calls back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit right now?”

Luke shrugs, and you have to will your eyeballs not to move any lower than his neck to watch his shoulders lift and drop, lest you get too caught up in the broad expanse of his chest and do something ridiculous like drool.

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You weren’t feeling a concert you guys haven’t shut up about for weeks, but you were feeling washing your car?”

He’s dead. When he’s finished with his car and he retreats to his room, you’re gonna smother him with a pillow and discard of his body in the lake. You’re not even gonna let him shower, first. That’s what the lake’s for.

He’s crapping all over your plans because he wasn’t feeling it?

“It needs cleaning,” he shrugs again, and you swear you’re gonna jump in and run him over with the damn thing, “In fact, you really should be helping me.”

There’s a small part of you that feels like the thoughts of violence are worryingly aggressive, but then a larger part of you realises he must have a death wish.

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

“You’re the one who drove us through a swamp,” he scoffs, a pointed hand flung toward the body of his car, where the sides are lined with a thick layer of dried dirt from the other night, “You get it dirty, you clean it up.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to fulfil your pervy car wash fantasy, I have much better things I could be doing with my time.”

Or you did, until Luke rained all over your parade of solitude.

“Like what?”

“Literally anything but this.” You gesture at the show he’s putting on. The suds dripping from the roof of the car, the hose in his hand, the buckets scattered around the perimeter. “I need to shower, I just walked from the club and I-,”

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

Luke wants you to murder him in the most gruesome, horrific way you could possibly muster - he has to, because there’s no other explanation for why he’d turn the hose on, point it straight at you, and drench the front of you, entirely. 

You can feel the fabric of your t-shirt dampening and sticking to your chest, and you scrunch your eyes shut to stop droplets of water slipping into them, thankful that when they open again, his own are looking back at you, and not any lower.

You’d really have a reason to kill him, then. 

“You did not just do that.” You growl, glaring back at him with a clenched jaw as the fucker beams back at you, pressing the trigger once more in a short burst that fires straight at your chest, again.

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

You drop your bag and launch for him, aiming to take the hose from his grip, but he fires it again out of sheer panic, the water spouting out from between your splayed fingers, cold and pressured, and it soaks the both of you, raining down as you grapple for the head and Luke remains unrelenting.

There are squeals and yelps called out into the misty air between the two of you, and you get to a point you can’t tell what sounds are coming from who, but you manage to wrestle the hose from his grip and point it straight at him as he jets away with a laugh that rumbles straight from his belly.

It’s the kind of laugh that elicits another, and you don’t realise until he’s circling back to you that the laughter is coming from you - giggling, even, as the two of you engage in a water fight like misbehaving children - and it isn’t long until all aggressive thoughts wash away with the suds that slip to the gravel, forgetting why you were even annoyed in the first place.

It shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but after the long day at work, and the tiring walk back, letting your guard down and engaging it a little mindless chaos seems to wake you up a little.

Your childish game gets Luke what he wanted, anyway, the two of you working together to clean his car when you realise he’s only running in front of all the parts that actually need hosing off and relying on you having bad aim to get the job done, and you figure getting your hands a little dirty is harmless when you’re already soaked through and in dire need of a shower.

And your pamper-plans of a bubble bath and self-care don’t entirely come to fruition, but Luke promises to make up for his petulance by ordering pizza and sticking a movie on, so you bite your tongue to refrain from voicing your initial complaints, and decide to just go with the flow, for once - he hasn’t exactly led you astray, yet.  

You take a little longer in the shower than normal, with no one around to complain about hogging the bathroom or worry about them barging in unannounced, and you suppose that’s a small victory - one little luxury you get to cling to as you bask in the steam, letting all the tension slip from your aching muscles after being on your feet all day.

And once you’re out, hair dried just enough with a towel that it isn’t going to drip or soak your t-shirt, and you’re dressed in your pyjamas, you make your way downstairs, where Luke has already set up a plethora of snacks in the living room.

Nachos, popcorn, candy and drinks scattered across the coffee table as he relaxes on the couch, hair extra curly after his shower and an old Michigan t-shirt stretched tight across his now much-broader chest. 

“Thought I’d wait for you to pick a movie,” he chimes up from where he’s sat, gesturing with a lazy point to the wall of blu-rays beside the TV. 

“Did Netflix never make it to the Hughes household?” You scoff in disbelief as you take them all in properly for the first time. You’d seen them in your peripheral when you’d been hanging out down here, before, but actually looking at them up close, reading all the titles, seeing the sheer volume of how many there are, it kind of surprises you.

“We can look on Netflix if you want. They always take stuff off, though.”

You know. All your favourite movies get taken off of streaming, and you only ever find out about it when you’re really in the mood to watch them. As soon as you realise the wall is alphabetised, you know exactly where to look.

“That’s alright,” you shrug, stepping to the side as you track backwards, through M, L, K and J. “You guys are pretty analogue, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The board games, the DVDs, the whole no phones around the house thing.”

“No phones around the house is common courtesy,” he chuckles, “But I guess we’re a little weird about the other stuff.”

“It’s pretty cool,” you shrug, spotting the DVD you want and sliding it out to assess the case. “It’s old school. Probably better for the brain. My little brothers can’t really function without an iPad and they’re 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Luke frowns where you almost expect him to laugh, and you spin on your heel to face him. He has this look about him like he should have known that - like the two of you have ever conversed in anything other than sarcastic quips and scrunched up faces, or whatever attempts at flirting have been on his part. 

“Technically they’re half brothers,” you shrug, “They live out in Philly with my dad and step mom, I don’t really get to see them much.”

“Didn’t know you were from Philly, either.”

“I’m not, my dad moved out there when him and my mom got divorced.”

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

The few times you’ve tried, you’ve been shot down, patronising tones scoffing at how your biggest trauma is the separation of your parents, as if your whole world didn’t crumble down with the demise of their relationship, the demise of life as you knew and very dearly loved it.

“You don’t see him even in the summer?”

“Him and his family are on vacation in Europe for 6 weeks. England, France, Spain, Germany, the boys are into soccer so they’ll be out there until the Euros.”

You don’t miss the way Luke’s face scrunches at how you call them his family, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him to start pitying you, so you throw the DVD case toward him before you can second guess your choice.

Interstellar. 

You hope he doesn’t pick up on why it might be one of your favourites. Especially not considering the topic of the conversation at hand. Something about the crippling regret Cooper has for leaving Murph behind plucks harmoniously at some unidentifiable strings deep within you, but you’re hardly about to admit that to Luke, of all people.

“I love this movie,” he smiles, almost surprised, as if he expected you to throw The Notebook his way. Maybe next time - he’d probably love that movie, too, if he gave it a chance. 

“Me too. I love space movies.”

“Like Space Jam?” He asks as he pushes himself up, going toward the TV to set up the movie with the DVD in one hand and the remote control in the other. 

“No, like movies about Space,” you say, throwing yourself down onto the same couch he just vacated and tucking your feet beneath you to get comfortable. “Although I guess Space Jam would technically fit into that bracket.”

“I didn’t realise that was a genre,” he chuckles.

“Not the scary ones, though, I don’t wanna be freaked out by space.”

“Is that like a thing? You just like any movie set in space?”

“I like anything about space, period. Movies, documentaries, books. Thinking about it makes me feel really insignificant.”

“Insignificant? Is that not a bad thing?” He asks as he makes his way back, settling into his side and angling his body toward yours.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

“I guess that makes sense,” he seems to mull it over in his head, the thought of him even considering it and not making you feel stupid warms your chest - makes you forget just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him in the last couple of minutes alone, makes you worry less that you’re sharing too much. “I think I might be the opposite, though. Probably the youngest brother in me, I only feel better if I feel bigger.”

You think that might be why he’s always trying to one up you - sassy comments and inappropriate jokes galore. Not that you mind any of it, not really.

“What about you? What movies do you like?”

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

“Look at you, knowing me like the back of your hand.” He coos, nudging at your knee with his hand. “I’ll watch anything, though. We should take it in turns, whenever it’s just us,” he says like the thought of spending time alone with you has only just crossed his mind. “Picking a movie to show each other.”

You think there’s a lot of yourself in the media you consume. The movies you watch, the music you listen to, and sharing those things with Luke feels like giving him the only other key to a high security vault. It’s something you’ve avoided so far - letting him play his songs in the car, avoiding making any sort of pick in the group movie nights. It’s daunting, and it’s a lot of pressure, and so you don’t know why you agree with so much ease - a shrug, and a casual muttering of, “Sure, why not?”

The pieces of your dynamic slowly start to slot together, and you start to realise why you’ve been entertaining his company so often, lately. Why your mood so quickly de-escalated itself, earlier. Why you’ve found yourself curled up on the same couch as him, instead of literally anywhere else in the house, doing anything other than this. Why you’re so quick to agree to letting him access all these unseen parts of you.

And why you think he might be able to read your mind, after he asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

“What were you gonna do tonight, if you were on your own?”

Thank God, you think, your heart jumping at the thought of anything else he could have asked.

“I was gonna do a sheet mask and steal the bottle of wine Quinn stashed behind the laundry detergent.” You admit with a nonchalant shrug, the plans you had been looking forward to all day seeming mundane in comparison to this. “Why’d you stay behind? You love Zach Bryan.”

“I love sheet masks and stolen wine, too.”

Your lips curve up before you get the chance to huff at his non-answer, and you feel your throat go a little dry at the way his curve, too - the way his green eyes darken when they meet yours, and you feel like he’s looking straight through you.

It’s around half way through the movie that you realise how much you’re enjoying yourself - when you look over at Luke, and the light from the screen is still bouncing off the sticky white sheet plastered to his face, only just able to make out his round eyes through the little slit in the fabric. 

You sip at your wine to hide your smile, and turn your attention back to the TV until Luke nudges at your feet with his, and your eyes meet over the tops of your bent knees. 

“You tell anyone I did this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Your laugh ripples through every inch of your upper body, rumbling up from your belly and manifesting itself in shaking shoulders, your smile wide and your sheet mask slipping out of place. “You can’t threaten me with a good time, Hughes.”

You spend the rest of the night trying not to think about how there might just be a tiny door in your heart, eking it’s way open for him to squeeze his gangly limbs into.

>PART TWO<

another a/n: I don't want to put a timeframe on when the next part will be posted bc as soon as I do that, my brain will revolt and it won't happen, but I'd love to know your thoughts in the meantime!!! I have a lot of the rest actually written, and what I don't have written, I have drafted, so it shouldn't be too long but!!! like I said no timeframe!! I've had a lot of fun with this dynamic, and hearing any opinions would mean a lot to me!!

this was my first time writing reader insert if you saw any instances of she/her where they shouldn't be, no you didn’t. I tried as best as I could to avoid using Y/N because it takes me out of it I don’t even remember if I put it anywhere but sometimes it's hard to get around I did my best ok!!!

[star-sim]

head over heels ☆ sunghoon park

☆ spider-man! sunghoon x single mother! fem! reader ☆ summary: being a single mother was hard, especially when you lived in such a bustling, yet crime-ridden city. as a mother you personally dislike spider-man, even if your toddler son was obsessed with him. thank goodness, you have your best friend, sunghoon, to help you out at times. but little do you know, that same best friend of yours was spider-man. uh oh! ☆ genre: spider-man! au, friends to lovers, reader is a single mother, riki is your kid lol (can be interpreted as either adopted or biological), baddie reader alert! , down bad! + protective! sunghoon, slow-burn ish/very subtle romance ☆ warning(s)? minor violence ☆ word count: 16.9k words ☆ based off of "head over heels" by tears for fears, also i hope this reads as comic-booky lol

reblogs and feedback is appreciated!

"Sunghoon, is it just me or is Spider-Man the worst thing that's ever happened to this city?"

Sunghoon dropped the kitchen knife in his hand, the one that he was currently using to dice a few carrots.

Clunk!

The man looked over his shoulder to where you were.

It was only a few minutes ago that you came back from work— your 9-5 office job. The moment that your apartment door slammed shut, you kicked off your god-awful shoes, threw your keys aside, and made your way to the kitchen, where you found Sunghoon peacefully already making dinner.

It wasn't abnormal for Sunghoon to be casually in your apartment. In fact, it was more than ordinary.

Sunghoon was a good friend, someone that you had an infinite amount of trust in. Sometimes, your boss liked to fuck you over and make you work overtime, and sometimes your coworkers were so insufferable that all of your energy was spent, so it was convenient that Sunghoon would hang around your apartment and watch over it, and when the time came, make you dinner.

He never minded it. He actually quite enjoyed it. A lot.

Especially because house-sitting came with an extra responsibility: taking care of your son, Riki.

You were a single mother with a full-time job. Of course Sunghoon wouldn't mind taking some of the load off your back.

Currently, you sat at your kitchen table, flopped over yourself. You were still in your work clothes, your face still made up. Your feet ached, and your eyelids felt heavy.

You never questioned why Sunghoon had so much time on his hands, enough time to babysit and house-sit for you. 

"Y-Yeah," Sunghoon answered, clearing his throat. "The worst."

Yes, he did have a job. Yes, his job had relatively short work hours. Yes, it paid pretty well. 

And it was because Sunghoon was Spider-Man. 

But you didn't have to know that.

"Riki's been napping since he got home from daycare," Sunghoon changed the subject. "He wouldn't stop calling out for you, so I had to show him a picture of you for him to fall asleep."

At the mention of your son's name, you perked up. Almost as if all of your tiredness melted away, you jumped to your feet, disappearing into the hallway. 

Sunghoon couldn't help the grin that seeped onto his face when you came out with Riki, your one year-old son scooped up in your arms. From the kitchen, he could hear you coo at your son's sleepy face, giggling to yourself as Riki clutched onto you, digging his face into the crook of his neck.

"Riiiikiiii-yaaa!" you drawled, your voice sounding brighter. "I missed you, baby."

Sunghoon laughed, nearly chopping off his finger when Riki babbled some incoherent string of sounds, still sleepy from his long afternoon nap. 

You brought Riki into the kitchen, sitting him down onto his baby-chair. 

Sunghoon listened quietly, his attention directed at making the best meal possible, as you chattered with your son.

There was something so joyful about hearing you gush over Riki's every attempt to pronounce literally any coherent word, squealing when he managed to say, "dog." 

"Mama!" Riki exclaimed, making grabby hands at you. From his peripheral vision, Sunghoon could see you melting, instantly scooping your son back up again, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses.

One of things that Sunghoon loved about you: your endless devotion to your son.

You'd lay down your life for Riki, and it was one of the most loveable things about you.

"Hoo!" Riki laughed. "Hoo!"

The second thing that Sunghoon loved about you? Your son himself.

"Sunghoon, Riki wants you," you said, a smile in your voice. Riki couldn't pronounce Sunghoon, or even Hoon, so he instead opted for the much easier option: 'Hoo.'

Sunghoon instantly dropped his kitchen utensils, quickly washing and drying his hands. You hoisted up your son, carefully placing him into Sunghoon's arms while still having a gentle hold on him.

Sunghoon took the child.

Riki was a beautiful child. Sunghoon had spent a lot of time with him, to the point that he grew very fond of him. If there was something that he and Riki had in common, it was their love for you.

The three of you stayed like that for a few pulses: Sunghoon embracing Riki, while you stood close by, your hands still holding onto Riki.

Sunghoon could see both the tiredness and love in your eyes, and the youthful glimmer in Riki's chubby face.

There were moments like this, where you and Riki were simply close to him, relying on him for whatever support he could give, Sunghoon wished it could last forever.

Then, the three of you sat down to eat. 

The rest of the night was quiet. You bathed Riki while Sunghoon prepared his clothes and diapers, and at the end, the two of you tucked Riki in.

"Good night, Riki," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You were already at the doorway, fingering the light switch, when Sunghoon's eyes glazed over Riki. 

"Good night, kiddo," he said quietly, so quiet that even Sunghoon couldn't hear himself, before ruffling Riki's hair.

"So, how was work?"

Perhaps, one of Sunghoon's favorite times of the day was after dinner, after you both washed up and Riki was in bed. 

The two of you liked to hang around your living room, and just talk. It wasn't like you had any good work friends to talk to, but you didn't mind. After all, you had Sunghoon.

It was another one of those especially stressful and hectic days at work, so Sunghoon brought out a bottle of champagne.

"So bad," you huffed, reclining back on your couch, throwing an arm over your eyes. "So fucking bad."

Sunghoon nudged you with his foot, handing you a glass of sparkly champagne. Then, he rested at the head of the couch, gently taking your head into his hands and placing it onto his lap. His lanky fingers made his way to your shoulders, pressing down onto them. Slowly, he began to massage you.

"What happened?"

You groaned, sinking back into the warmth that was Sunghoon's fingers. "My fuckass boss. Decided to make me do the intern's work because I was five minutes late."

"That sucks," Sunghoon murmured, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made you sigh in relief. "Is he giving you a hard time?"

"Always," you sighed. "I don't know why Choi promoted him. He's got a stick up his ass."

Sunghoon frowned.

He heard you cuss out your shitty boss and coworkers all the time, but he knew deep down, no matter how much you despised them, you would never abandon ship. It was in your blood to care too much, to put your all into something— anything— and expect nothing in return.

And that's what Sunghoon loved so much about you. 

That's right, loved.

He threw that word around a lot when it came to you, but he truly meant it. 

Sunghoon loved you. He didn't know how, whether it be as a friend, or as a lover, but he loved you and that's all he needed to know. 

He loved you since the day you met in your senior years of high school. 

He loved you when you cradled his face as he shed hot tears over his heartbreak. 

He loved you when you and him snuck around the college dorms, creeping into each other's rooms to enjoy late-night ramen.

He loved you when you met your (now ex-) boyfriend Taehyun, and he didn't even think of loving you any less when you announced that you were having a child with him three years after graduating college.

And he loved you now as you slept peacefully on your couch, curling up against what warmth Sunghoon could give you.

Sunghoon gazed at you.

How could he not resist falling in love with you?

Your eyes kept fluttering as they were shut, your hands randomly twitching at times. You've been working so hard to provide for you and your son, while also sacrificing your time to spend with Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone rang. It was loud, loud enough that Sunghoon jumped and your body instinctively jerked in its place.

"Shit— shit!" 

Of course Sunghoon knew exactly where his phone was. He shot a spider web across your house to grab his blaring phone.

Under the dim light, his blue phone screen illuminated the room.

Incoming call... Mr. Lee, it read.

Uh-oh.

Sunghoon was about to take the call, when he noticed you stirring in your sleep.

"Sung...hoon?" you muttered softly. Sunghoon immediately darted to your side.

"Shhh, it's nothing, [Name]," he said gently. He reached out to cup your cheek, to which you nuzzled your face into his palm, softly letting out a sleepy whimper. "Go back to sleep."

After a few moments of stirring, you fell back into your slumber.

Sunghoon glanced at his phone.

Incoming call... Mr. Lee. He couldn't miss it.

Then he glanced back at you, laying on the couch, shivering into yourself.

Fuck it.

Sunghoon scooped you up in his arms, doing his best to be gentle with you. As the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it wasn't always easy trying to control his spidey senses and heightened abilities. But when it came to you, it almost came naturally.

He carried you to your bedroom, tucking you in with as many pillows and blankets as he could find.

"Good night," Sunghoon whispered. He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes studied your face. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, before swallowing down hard. Would it be weird to give your forehead a kiss? He didn't even kiss Riki, because he didn't feel like it was his right to. Sunghoon sighed. He turned away from you, taking one more glance over his shoulder before he turned off the lights and shut your bedroom door.

(Of course, Sunghoon went to go check up on Riki before he cracked open your apartment window, already in his red and blue glory.)

"Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Lee," Sunghoon muttered into his phone. "I know, I'm already on it. Yes. Okay. Bye."

Sunghoon huffed to himself as he jammed his phone into his pocket, muttering curses under his breath.

A bank robbery on Main Street, nothing to be surprised at. The city's crime-rate had been increasing lately, much to Sunghoon's chagrin. The cold air kissed his masked cheeks as he swung from building to building.

It had become a routine for him. Every night, after listening to you talk enough for you to insist that he went home, or staying up late enough to see you fall asleep, Sunghoon usually found himself doing his night patrol. It was mundane, a slow and conventional routine, but Sunghoon loved it.

Seokmin Lee, or DK, was a man a few years his senior, and also the man employing him. To put it simply, DK was a bit of a mad scientist, and under certain circumstances, Sunghoon and him met. After a spider bite, DK's genetically modified organisms, and a lot of crime-fighting, Sunghoon became Spider-Man.

As Sunghoon peeked over the hedge, he watched the group of burglars sneakily creep out of the dark bank. It was insane to him how poor the security was, but what was more concerning was the cartoonish sack of money the robbers were carrying over their shoulders, and the fact that they were wearing black and white striped shirts. They looked like the robbers in Riki's kiddy cartoons. 

If Riki was here, Sunghoon thought, he'd probably start laughing.

In one fell swoop, Sunghoon swung down to the robbers, landing a kick square on one of the robbers' heads.

"Agh—!"

"Good evening, gentlemen," Sunghoon greeted calmly, but his voice was filled with contempt. With one of the assailants knocked down, Sunghoon put his hands on his hips, cocking his head. "What're you up to tonight?"

He gazed at their faces: painted with horror and terror. Why didn't they even think of wearing masks when committing a crime? How dumb were they?

"S-Spiderman?!"

There's a pulse of silence, where Sunghoon just stared at them incredulously, almost expecting some sort of retaliation. Even though he was masked, his expression read, 'Can you guys try to put up a fight at least?'

"Get him!" The robbers yelled, beginning to charge at him.

"Let's not be ridiculous, guys" Sunghoon said exasperated, sighing. 

He shot a web at two of the robbers as he attempted to attack him, before wrapping the white ropes around them, sticking them together. Another burglar tried to sneak up behind him, but they were almost pathetically too slow for his spider-like abilities. 

Within minutes, Sunghoon had the criminals tied up with spider webs. He'd already called the cops.

"Curse you, Spider-man!" 

Really, tonight was playing out like one of Riki's cartoons. It was almost funny.

"Yeah, yeah," Sunghoon waved off, brushing off any dirt on his suit. Before he shot a web up to a building, Sunghoon turned over his shoulder. "Next time, get better outfits. You guys look hilarious."

With that, Sunghoon began swinging away, ignoring the curses from the little criminals, whose cries got smaller and smaller.

The worst part about dealing with crime in this city was the outcomes. People saw that other people were attempting to commit crimes, leading them to want to commit crimes too. It was a never-ending snowball effect. It seemed like every day the crime was just escalating. A few months ago it was just petty theft and the occasional mugging every week. Now it seemed like there was some large scheme every day.

If the helicopters flying overhead and the police sirens weren't telling enough, the entire city was awake once again, trying to catch a glimpse of the commotion down on main street.

Checking his phone, there were already several news outlets trying to get a quick buck from reporting the situation. That was probably one of the worst aspects of crime-fighting: the concerning amount of people trying to profit off of it. They just loved to use Sunghoon's red and blue likeness on the front covers.

Truthfully, Sunghoon didn't care about fame. He couldn't stand the reporters shoving microphones in his face. 

He only agreed to be Spider-Man for one reason and one reason only.

Ding!

Sunghoon slipped his phone out of his pocket.

[name]: just woke up i heard there was a robbery 

[name]: you went home right? are you safe?

The corners of Sunghoon's lips lifted briefly. You had a specific way of showing you care for him, and it was exactly this.

sunghoon: yeah i'm safe

sunghoon: i just went out to get you more groceries

sunghoon: youre missing eggs and milk

[name]: thank you hoon, you didn't have to

But he did have to.

After all, you were you, and you deserved nothing but the best. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to take some responsibility off your shoulders.

sunghoon: i'll be back in 10

sunghoon: go back to sleep

Sunghoon was true to his word, as he returned within 10 minutes, with a bag of groceries in hand, to see you curled up on the couch, waiting for him to return. He couldn't help but smile.

"Hoo!" 

Riki?

"Hoo, Hoo!"

Sunghoon was shaken awake by a weight on his chest, and soft, chubby hands grabbing his face.

If it weren't for his incredible spider abilities, Sunghoon thought that he would have punted someone. Luckily, he didn't, because it was Riki that was waking him up.

"Riki?" Sunghoon said groggily. Taking the child in his arms and holding him close, Sunghoon sat up. He noticed that he was back in your apartment, sprawled out across your couch. He squished Riki's cheek, earning a giggle from the baby. The man rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Where's your mom?"

"Right here," your voice entered the room, a slight smile in it. Sunghoon whipped his head around to see you standing at the doorway, in your work clothes. 

You slinked over to Sunghoon and Riki. 

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you smiled at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you. "What time is it?"

"Almost 8AM," you answered smoothly, taking your son out of Sunghoon's arms and stroking Riki's hair.

Sunghoon immediately jumped to his feet. He usually woke up an hour or two before that to prepare breakfast for you! 

"Oh shit—!"

"Relax," you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze and pushing him back down onto the couch. "I already made breakfast. Riki's already fed, too."

Sunghoon watched as you gave Riki a peck on the cheek, before giving your kid back to him.

"I'll be back by 6," you told him as you slipped on your shoes, "Breakfast is on the table, just heat it up if needed."

"Right," Sunghoon nodded slowly. "See you. Have a good day at work."

"You too," you said in a sing-songy voice, before heading out the door, leaving Sunghoon and Riki alone.

.

.

.

"Mama!" Riki cooed, making grabby hands at the door.

Sunghoon gently bonked the baby's head with his fist. "She just left."

Riki's lips formed into a pout, his eyebrows furrowing together as his chubby cheeks puffed out. 

"Mama!" he argued back.

Sunghoon couldn't help but poke the kid's cheeks. "I already said, she just left."

And cue the tears.

Sunghoon and Riki had beef. Nothing serious, just that Riki, even if he was an actual baby, liked to bother Sunghoon. And because Riki was already so much like you, it was hard to say no to him. Even so, he found himself butting heads with the child from time to time.

As Riki wailed, Sunghoon sighed, hoisting him up. 

"What am I going to do with you..." he muttered to himself.

"Ah wah mama! (I want Mama!)" Riki cried, squirming against Sunghoon's chest.

Days with Riki were fun. 

And exhausting. 

But more fun than not.

It usually started with feeding him, but thanks to you, he was already fed. The daycare didn't open until another few hours, so in this time Sunghoon found himself being the most shameful version of himself that he could think of. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But it was definitely a side of himself that made him cringe.

Case and point: Sunghoon's dreadful baby voice.

As he sat against the living room floor, Sunghoon let Riki sit on his lap against his chest. For such an active child, Riki especially liked it when Sunghoon read to him. 

So that's what Sunghoon did.

Riki's little baby books were the interactive kind, the ones where the little caterpillars sprawled across the cardboard pages were fuzzy and the pop-out orange tree in the corner actually smelled of citrus.

It was unfortunate, at least to Sunghoon, because he always started off the reading with a completely normal voice, and by the end, he'd be talking to Riki with a high-pitched baby voice.

"Feel the grass, Riki," Sunghoon guided Riki's much smaller hand to the furry grassy patch on the book. He didn't even notice the way his voice got softer, going up airily at the end of his sentences. Riki babbled at the feeling of the soft texture under his fingertips, his eyes squeezing together as his high giggles filled the room. Sunghoon grinned. "Feels nice, right?.

Riki laughed again, clapping his chubby hands. 

"I bet it does," Sunghoon rubbed his knuckle against Riki's cheek. 

"Hoo!" Riki babbled suddenly.

Sunghoon picked the baby up, placing him on his feet and turning him around so that Sunghoon could see his face. Placing his hands on Riki's side to stabilize him, Sunghoon hummed. "What's up?"

"Hoo!" Riki repeated again, making grabby hands up at him. "Ub! (Up!)"

"Aren't you a little too old for upsies?" Sunghoon asked Riki as if he wasn't one year old, but still complied, lifting the kid up and resting Riki's face on his shoulder. Riki really liked it when Sunghoon carried him around while he did stuff, probably because Sunghoon's height made it a thrilling experience for him.

Sunghoon really enjoyed Riki's presence, even if the kid liked to give him hell. 

Which was why he narrowed his eyes, looking around suspiciously as if you were there to catch him red-handed, before he tossed Riki’s small body into the air. 

If Riki was any other normal baby, he'd scream in fear. But he wasn't. So all Riki did was let out an excited squeal. Almost immediately, Sunghoon shot a web at him, yanking him down from the air and into his arms in an instant.

"You better not tell your mother," Sunghoon booped Riki's nose as the baby clapped his hands, giggling. "She'll kick my ass if she knew that I was throwing you around."

And she'd also beat my ass if she knew that I was Spider-Man.

Speaking of which...

Sunghoon knew better than anyone how you felt about Spider-Man.

In short, you hated him. You hated Spider-Man, and you almost never failed to let Sunghoon know that.

You had a pretty simple reason: even if Spider-Man was a crime-fighter, the way that he was publicized made him more like a celebrity than a public servant. Because of this, people chose to commit more crime in the hopes of getting some sort of attention, which completely defeated the purpose of having a crime-fighter like Spider-Man.

Sunghoon was mere weeks into his job as Spider-Man, in the middle of bandaging up the cut on his hand that he got from fighting crime, when you suddenly barged into your apartment, throwing your bag aside as you exasperatedly began ranting about how a run-in with Spider-Man caused complete and utter hell for you when you commuted back from work. 

Many months later you still carried that sentiment.

And if he had to be honest, Sunghoon had to agree with you.

It wasn't like he detested being Spider-Man. After all, it paid his bills and allowed him to watch over you and make sure that you were safe. But, still, he wasn't a fan of the media coverage.

All he wanted to do was protect you and Riki. Was that too much to ask for?

Would Sunghoon ever tell you that he was Spider-Man? Probably not. Would you be mad at him for being Spider-Man? Probably. But would you shun him? Maybe for a month, but not any longer. Still, Sunghoon wasn't afraid of going no-contact with you for a month. It was the fear of disappointing you and losing your trust.

He'd rather die than lose your trust!

But sometimes it was difficult to conceal his identity.

Like right now.

The day went on as per usual: Sunghoon played around more with Riki, before taking him to daycare. Then, Sunghoon went to do his Spider-Man activities, before picking Riki up again. It was the end of a stressful week, so you came home early and announced that you made dinner plans for the three of you.

And that's how Sunghoon found himself sitting in a fancy dimly-lit restaurant. Across from him sat you, wearing a dress that made him stare at you for a little longer than he should have. 

Maybe it was the jazz music playing in the background, or the way that your gloss-laden lips clung to the delicate glass of champagne that you swished in your hand, but Sunghoon couldn't take his eyes off of you. 

Thanks to the fact that Riki was sitting at the table with his baby high-chair, two of the waiting staff had already mistaken you and Sunghoon for a married couple. Not that Sunghoon minded. And it didn't seem like you minded either, because all you did was throw your head back with a laugh and clutch Sunghoon's arm.

In fact, if Sunghoon had to be honest, you've been confusing him lately.

Or maybe he was confusing himself.

Because he swore that your eyes have been lingering on him lately, running over his figure from time to time before you cracked that little smug grin on your face— the type of grin that made Sunghoon shrink into himself. You've been touchier, holding his arm in the crook right in between your chest, almost like you knew that it would make him nervous. You began picking up this habit of looking at his lips, then gazing back up at his eyes, before licking your own lips with a smile. It was driving him crazy.

Why was he feeling this way?

And more importantly, why were you torturing him like this? You were a mother, you were someone well-respected and feared in your workplace because of your sheer ability to read people. You knew your effect on people, so you must know what you were doing to him. Right?

"Sunghooooon," you sang, resting your face on your hands, propped up in a way that made it impossible to ignore how good you looked tonight. Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes quivering over to you. "What're you thinking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "Nothing."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching across the table to gently hit his hand. "Don't lie to me. I know when there's something on your mind."

"Lie!" Riki giggled, repeating your words like a little parrot. "Lie! Lie!"

"See?" you ruffled your son's hair. "Even Riki agrees. What's up?"

Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but he was distracted when you reached for your glass of sparkly champagne once more, bringing it up to your lips. 

"What?" you cocked a brow at him as he stared at you. "We drank with each other last night. What's so surprising about me drinking right now?"

Sunghoon gulped. 

You were scary like that, always so straightforward. It made him piss himself, but it also made him want to melt into a pile of mush. 

"It's nothing." He cleared his throat. "I'm just stressed about work."

"Awww," you frowned. "What happened?"

Sunghoon was talking straight out of his ass, because you reached over the table, beginning to play with his hands. Your eyes were trained on the shapes that you drew on his palms, but you hummed from time to time as words tumbled out of his mouth.

You had to be doing this on purpose.

It was weird, because Sunghoon never felt this way around you. What he felt toward you was quiet, something that was a basic fact to him. But now, all he could do was watch as you fed Riki airplane-style, making funny airplane engine noises as your baby laughed, trying to calm the beating of his heart.

Why did you have so be so attractive? Why was he feeling so warm?

It was a peaceful dinner, save for the war beginning to bubble inside of Sunghoon.

That was, until a loud crash rang through the restaurant. Then, there were whispers, car sirens, and at last, shrieking. The jazz music stopped as a hush fell over the restaurant. 

Your first instinct was to take Riki out of his high-chair and into your arms, so you did that.

But the moment that you brought your eyes up to where Sunghoon should have been, he was gone.

Like, absolutely gone.

His seat was empty. His plate of food, as fell as his folded cloth napkin and silver cutlery, were left exactly as you last remembered. Sunghoon simply disappeared all of a sudden.

But before you could even say his name, another crash rang through the restaurant as someone screeched, "Giganto!"

Giganto was a self-proclaimed supervillain on the rise. The last time that you heard about him was a few months ago, when he tried to pull off some stupid scheme to take down Spider-Man. It was a pathetic attempt. But now he was back, with admittedly impressive equipment and a nasty spandex suit.

Based on your understanding of the layout of the restaurant, it seems like the front portion of it was crashed into. Which meant that the front entrance was 100% not an option. 

And that became even more apparent to you when Giganto, in his pink spandex glory, began cackling villainously, announcing his arrival. What he said in his very unnecessary villain monologue was unknown to you, because you were too distracted by Riki, who was beginning to tear up in fear.

"Shh, shh," you held your son against your shoulder, your hand coming up to cup his ear. You pressed kisses on his face, petting his hair in an attempt to calm him down. "Baby, Baby it's okay. We're okay. Don't cry, Mama's here—"

"Run!" someone shrieked as another contraption began prowling into the restaurant. It was massive and made of some metal, some sort of machine that Giganto probably made to assert his dominance. It didn't matter to you. What did matter was the two people that you cared about: Riki, and.... hey, where's Sunghoon?

Your feet were just about to start moving when your eyes glazed over Sunghoon's still-empty seat. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Sunghoon?" you said to yourself, your eyes wide as they flickered around the slowly-crumbling restaurant for any familiar sign of your best friend. "Sunghoon!"

"Hoo!" Riki cried out.

You couldn't find him, amidst all the dust and hoards of people running past you.

You felt Riki's tears wet your shoulder.

You had to get out of here, if you wanted to save yourself and Riki.

But Sunghoon...

If you did not start running now, you would die. Riki would die.

I'm sorry, Sunghoon, you squeezed your eyes shut, before your feet picked up. You ran, you ran as fast as you could, trying your best to ignore your motherly instinct to stop and kiss Riki as he wailed. You didn't even realize it until your face was wet that you, too, were crying.

It could be fear, it could be uncertainty, it could be because your own son was sobbing. Or maybe it was guilt. Guilt because you could have waited for Sunghoon, but didn't.

Guilt, because you made it out of the crumbling restaurant, but Sunghoon did not.

Guilt, because you left your best friend to die.

You didn't know how long you ran, but you ran far enough that you could no longer hear the helicopters and screaming, only your and Riki's sniffles.

"Shhh," you shakily consoled Riki, rubbing circles on his back, doing your best to ignore the weight on your chest. "It's okay, Baby. We're okay."

But you knew you weren't. Not after what happened back there.

How could you abandon him back there, when he's done everything for you? How could you do him like that, as if he wasn't the sole reason that you weren't dead in a ditch right now? You were a horrible friend, and an even worse person for letting that happen.

All of a sudden, you were lifted off your feet. Literally. One moment you were walking under a streetlight, the next you were in the air.

"S-Spider-Man?!"

With one hand wrapped tightly around Riki, your other hand came up to grip the hero's bicep. Your stomach did flips as you looked down, seeing the city beneath you.

"Hey there," his voice was solemn.

"Where the—" you squeezed your eyes shut as you peered down— "Where the hell are you taking us?"

You felt Spider-Man tense under your touch, almost like he was wincing.

"I-I'm taking you home."

Your eyes narrowed. 

Was it normal for a superhero to be stuttering as they save a civilian?

"And you're taking me home because you know where I live? How?" You felt bad for being so cold, for being so incredibly frigid toward him, but you couldn't let your guard down. Not when you were 100 meters in the air holding your son. Not when you already lost Sunghoon back there.

"I don't," Spider-Man quipped quickly. It was now that you noticed the cut on his shoulder, with dark red blood seeping out and exposing his skin. "Will you show me the way?"

You glanced down at Riki, who was now beginning to fall asleep. He was unlike you in the way that he liked thrill, even when he was just a little baby

You couldn’t say that you were happy with who Spider-Man was, but you were not going to reject the help he was giving you right now. Not when your son was on the line.

You huffed. “Make a turn right here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spider-Man muttered.

You did not know why, but it seemed like the sound of the hero’s voice made Riki stir.

“Hoo,” Riki babbled sleepily. “Hoo…”

Sunghoon.

Again, you felt Spider-Man tense.

“My friend…” you began, swallowing your pride. “His name is Sunghoon. I-I couldn’t find him back there.”

Spider-Man hummed.

“Can you… I mean— Do you think you can look for him? I’m really worried.

Spider-Man gazed at you, looking at you with his masked face. For some reason, you thought that he was grinning behind the mask, and you almost began shouting at him. But the hero only nodded, saying, “I promise you that he’s safe, Ma’am.”

You looked at him pensively, doubt painted across your expression as you chewed on your lip.

“But if it makes you feel better I’ll look for him.”

You nodded slowly, still doubtful.

The rest of the trip to your apartment is quiet.

Sunghoon 100% expected you to start yelling at him the moment he appeared in your apartment doorway. And he 100% was going to smile through all thirty minutes of it.

“You’re so fucking stupid, why did you disappear like that?! Do you know how much that scared me?! I thought I lost you and you died, Oh my God you’re so fucking annoying, I was losing my mind—“

Sunghoon was laughing at you as you lightly punched his arms, his sharp canine teeth peeking through, when he noticed the glassy sheen over your eyes. 

You had tears in your eyes, hot tears that you were blinking back as worried words spilled from your lips. Immediately, Sunghoon stopped his laughing, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

He was happy that you cared about him so much, unable to hide the way his lips still pulled upwards as you pressed your face into his chest.

It was late at night by now. Riki was already sound asleep. There was something about the way you sobbed in his arms that warmed his heart, that someone as strong as you would allow him the privilege of seeing you tremble. 

"I didn't know you cared so much, [Name]," Sunghoon teased. He expected you to hit him again, tell him to shut up, and maybe bite back a laugh, but all you did was shake your head.

"No," you murmured against his shirt. "I failed you."

"What're you talking about?" Sunghoon squeezed your shoulder. "You didn't fail anyone."

"No..." you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging onto Sunghoon even harder. You stayed like that for a little bit, simply holding the man in your arms like he'd disappear. Then, you pulled away, letting your gaze meet his. "I... I ran away when I should have waited for you."

Sunghoon only stared at you confused.

You licked your lips, your expression pinching. "I-I got scared so I ran, I ran so far away a-and��" you let out a heavy breath, pushing your face into your hands— "I-I'm such a shitty friend, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon blinked.

.

.

.

Oh!

Sunghoon remembered now, the way he disappeared from the face of earth the moment that disaster struck. One moment he was trying to breathe when you looked at him, the next he was in a tight spandex suit. 

Of course you had to 'abandon' him. Sunghoon was Spider-Man! There was no way that you would be able to stay back to wait for him.

It should be easy to explain to you, that you could not have possibly been at fault, because the situation was already imbalanced to begin with.

But there was just one little problem!

How was Sunghoon going to explain this to you without revealing that he's Spider-Man?

Sunghoon pulled his lip between his teeth, unable to hide the awkward-panicked expression painting itself on his features as you cried into his shoulder.

Curse you for being such a caring person, he sucked in a sharp breath. 

He didn't like seeing you cry, so he needed to dig himself out of this one soon.

What the hell was he supposed to say now?

"D-Don't cry," Sunghoon's lips moved on their own. "It's not your fault."

"It is though!" you cried.

"No..." Sunghoon let his panic mode take over. Quick, he needed to make something up. "I-I... It was my fault. I.. uhh..."

The man's eyes darted over to the kitchen, where in the rack lay plates, bowls, and Riki's baby utensils.

Ah, Riki.

It was a small inside joke between Sunghoon and you that Riki was always gassy. After all, he was a baby.

"I needed to use the bathroom really badly," Sunghoon swallowed all his pride. "A-And I was there the entire time... because it was really bad."

You pulled away from him, taking a look at his face. If it wasn't for the awkward topic at hand, you'd call out how uncomfortable he looked. Your brows furrowed, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "There was no way that you could have waited for me... I was in the bathroom the entire time..."

"Doing what?"

"You know..." Sunghoon felt his face warm up. "Doin' my business..."

"Oh."

.

.

.

Sunghoon wanted the floor to open up below him and eat him whole, because within seconds, your distressed, pained crying face melted into a massive smile. You threw your head back, your eyes crinkling into thin crescents, sweet laughs mixed with sniffles spilling out of your lips.

Sunghoon stood there, ears and cheeks pink, with his dignity shattered in his hands. He wanted to die, yes, but it made him feel better than you were no longer crying, just laughing. He couldn't help but feel a grin grow on his face.

"I'm sorry, Sunghoon," you squeezed his shoulders, wiping your eyes-- tears not from crying earlier but from laughing so hard. The way you brought your hand up to ruffle his hair, a reassuring smile on your face, made Sunghoon feel like a child, only furthering his embarrassment. "I didn't mean to laugh."

Sunghoon's lips pulled downward, forming an unintentional pout.

"Awww," you patted his head even more, "I appreciate your honesty. It takes a lot of courage to admit that."

It was definitely hard to stay embarrassed when you were so gentle about it, reassuring him every other sentence that you weren't judging him.

Sure, Sunghoon just embarrassed himself in front of you, but it was better than having to see you cry over something that you had no agency over to begin with.

Anything for you.

"Papa!"

"R-Riki, I'm not your-"

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now!

It was another afternoon of looking after Riki. 

Riki just got back from daycare, and took a long and cozy nap. Sunghoon shook him awake an hour later. However, instead of Riki's wide owlish eyes blinking a few times before recognizing Sunghoon's face, exclaiming "Hoo!" as he always did, Riki seemed to learn a new word.

"Papa!"

Papa.

Riki knew the word mama. Of course he did, he knew you.

However, from the beginning, Riki never knew his own legal father, Taehyun. Sure, Taehyun dropped by ever-so-often, but he was no more than a stranger to Riki than a random person on the street.

Riki never says papa. 

But now he just called Sunghoon papa.

Sunghoon had been spending the past 10 minutes trying to get Riki to call him Hoo again, but it seemed like nothing would work.

Sunghoon held both of Riki's tiny hands.

"I'm Hoo," Sunghoon said slowly. "Say it to me, Riki. Say Hoo."

"H.... H..." Riki began.

"That's right, you're almost there."

"H...H..." Riki's expression pinched. "Papa!"

"No!"

Truth be told, Sunghoon wanted to cry.

Riki calling him Papa and basically recognizing him as his father figure? The thought of it made Sunghoon tear up already.

He always tried his best to be there for you and Riki. To say that you and Riki were the joys of his life would be an understatement; Sunghoon did everything, even undertaking sketchy hero jobs, for the sake of you two. It wasn't like he expected anything in exchange. In fact, Sunghoon didn't even expect to be considered part of the family.

"Papa!"

"Riki..." Sunghoon's chest tightened at the little proud smile painted across Riki's face. "Riki, I'm not your—"

Ding dong! the doorbell rang. 

Leaving Riki on the couch, Sunghoon opened the door without a thought.

Big mistake.

Because the person standing loud and proud at the door was the worst person that Sunghoon could think of.

"T-Taehyun?"

Taehyun Kang, the legal father of Riki, and also your slightly-obsessed ex-boyfriend.

Sunghoon gave Taehyun a once-over. Taehyun was dressed in a crisp dress-shirt, almost as if he was dressed up for a date. He held a bouquet of flowers, his hair slicked back neatly. 

The moment that Taehyun's eyes fell upon Sunghoon, his eyes narrowed, something that wasn't surprising. You and Taehyun dated for a few years, and during those years you were friends with Sunghoon, too. Taehyun was always malicious towards Sunghoon, something that both you and Sunghoon never understood.

Sunghoon was in love with you, yes, and that love extended to respecting you and your relationships. He never did anything in all the years that you were with Taehyun.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyun spat.

"I'm—"

Taehyun pushed past Sunghoon, stepping through the doorway. "Whatever, where's [Name]?"

"She's—"

"Papa!"

Shit.

Taehyun perked up at the sound of Riki's voice, rushing to the living room and throwing the bouquet aside. Taehyun scooped Riki up into his arms as he coddled him dramatically, exclaiming, "Why didn't you tell me he learned that word?"

Sunghoon's heart sank. Was it bad that he felt a twinge of jealousy? Maybe Riki said papa and thought of Taehyun and not him. After all, Taehyun was supposed to be his father, not Sunghoon. But still. Did Taehyun spend nearly every waking minute with Riki? Did Taehyun put in any effort to spend time with Riki, other than a visit every three months? Has Taehyun ever even changed Riki's diapers? Brush his teeth? Make him breakfast?

Sunghoon felt his blood boil as Taehyun pranced around your apartment— the apartment that he had no right to claim— with Riki in his arms, saying that he was anything close to being Riki's papa.

"Tae!" Sunghoon could hear Riki exclaim from the other room.

"No, Riki," Taehyun said. "You said it earlier. I'm papa."

"Tae!"

"Say Papa, Riki."

"P... P.... Tae!"

Taehyun barged back into the living room, where Sunghoon sat patiently. The moment that Riki saw Sunghoon's face, he cried, "Papa!"

"He just said it again!" Taehyun was bright, but his face fell the moment that he saw Riki's grabby hands at Sunghoon, coupled with the way that Riki squirmed in his hold. Taehyun whipped his head around. He pointed an accusatory finger at Sunghoon. "You!"

"Papa!" Riki said, this time smiling brightly at Sunghoon, something that he hadn't done once at Taehyun.

Sunghoon couldn't help but bask in the sick satisfaction he felt, but he hid it under a scowl. "What?"

"You're stealing my family," Taehyun claimed, his expression painted with anger. 

"I'm not," Sunghoon said calmly.

"You think I'm stupid?" Taehyun pressed, placing Riki down. "I know that you've been in love with [Name] since the beginning, and just because me and her are on a break, you think that you can just swoop in and play Prince Charming."

"I—"

"No, I know!" Taehyun raised his voice. Riki hated it when people raised their voice, silently cowering into himself. Taehyun would have known that if he put any ounce of effort into Riki. "I don't know what you did to Riki, to make him think that you're his father, but it's fucked up. You're fucked up. You will never be a part of this family."

Sunghoon stayed silent for a few moments. The air was tense, so silent that the only audible sound was the sound of Riki's breath.

Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath.

"What's Riki's favorite color?" was all he said.

"W-What?"

"I asked," Sunghoon looked at Taehyun boredly. "What's Riki's favorite color?"

Taehyun's eyebrows crashed together. "Why does that matter?"

"You're his dad, aren't you?" Sunghoon said simply. "You should know."

Taehyun's expression stayed scrunched together, but no words fell from his lips.

That's right, he doesn't fucking know.

"It's black." Sunghoon got up to where Riki was, scooping him up into his arms, to which Riki giggled and exclaimed Papa! quietly. "Did you know that Riki needs to hold a stuffed toy to sleep? Did you know that his favorite one is a stuffed dog named Bisco? Did you know that Riki's favorite song is Beat It by Michael Jackson?"

Sunghoon stroked Riki's hair, relishing in the way Taehyun dug his nails into his palms, his ears burning red. "Taehyun, what's Riki's dominant hand?"

Taehyun gulped. "Isn't he right-handed?"

"Nope," Sunghoon couldn't hide the satisfied grin on his face. "He's left-handed. In fact, he is allergic to the chrysanthemums that you brought over there."

The room went silent for a few more pulses.

"I might not be Riki's father, but you aren't either," Sunghoon said calmly, strolling over to the front door. "Please get out."

Taehyun never left quicker (and he took the flowers, too).

The apartment was quiet again.

Sunghoon didn't know how to feel.

He would be lying if he said that Taehyun's words didn't get to him. 

But Sunghoon also felt anger and satisfaction. Taehyun had no right to call himself a part of your family. He made you suffer, both in the past and now. He was a shitty co-parent and an even shittier dad to Riki. Sunghoon hoped that Taehyun understood his place now.

"Papa..." Riki murmured as he crawled toward Sunghoon, nuzzling his cheek into Sunghoon's hand that came up to cup his face.

"That's right," Sunghoon whispered. "Papa's here."

The day went on as normal after that fiasco.

At least, that's what Sunghoon thought.

Because after putting Riki to bed, you led Sunghoon into your bedroom.You locked the door, making Sunghoon gulp.

The serious expression on your face, and the way that you crossed your arms over your chest, freaked him out.

"Sit down." And he did so immediately, sitting his ass down on the bed the moment those words left your lips.

Sunghoon felt like he was a child about to be scolded. He chewed on his bottom lip, wringing his fingers as he carefully watched your standing figure.

"I got a call from Taehyun earlier," you said, your back turned to him.

Shit.

"Said that you were being disrespectful and brainwashing Riki." Sunghoon gulped as you glanced over your shoulder, your eyebrow cocked. "Care to explain?"

"I... I..." Sunghoon's mouth felt dry as he scrambled to gather words. "R-Riki started calling me p... papa, and Taehyun thought that I was brainwashing Riki into thinking that I was his dad, or something..."

You clicked your tongue, about to say something, but Sunghoon continued.

"I just— I just told him that he should be around more if he wanted... if he wanted Riki to call him papa," he added quickly, a grimace falling upon his expression, wincing with the way you took a deep breath.

Did Sunghoon overstep boundaries? It wasn't like you loved Taehyun— in fact you've been done with him for a while now— but it was an irrefutable fact that Taehyun was there before Sunghoon. Was Sunghoon wrong in thinking that he was even a part of your family? Was he getting ahead of himself? What if both you and Riki saw Taehyun as Riki's father figure and not him?

"Hey," Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when you put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. I'm not mad at you."

"Y-You aren't?"

You scoffed. "Of course not."

You rubbed your temples. "I'm more mad at Taehyun for barging in and causing a ruckus. Did he say anything else?"

"He said..." Sunghoon bit down on his bottom lip. Should he tell you this? "Never mind."

Your brows furrowed, pressing further. "What did he say?"

You sat down beside Sunghoon on the bed, noticing the way a deep frown painted itself on his features. You took his hand into yours, squeezing it. "I'm on your side, Sunghoon. I won't be mad."

Sunghoon licked his lips. "Just that... I will never be a part of your family."

He continued before you could respond. "I don't think I am... It just bothered me a little bit."

Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.

Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.

"You don't think that you're a part of this family?" you asked, your voice quiet. Sunghoon could hear the hurt in your voice.

"I..." You aren't going to bite, you never do. "I'd like to be... but it's not my place to say whether or not I am."

You clicked your tongue, anger rising in your tone. "And it's Taehyun's place to?"

"W-Well—"

"When has he ever done anything for this family?" your voice was filled with indignation, but your hands stayed gentle in his hair. "Taehyun will never be even half the man that you are, Sunghoon. He'll never do any of the things that you do, and that's because he's dead to this family."

You patted Sunghoon's cheek, making him look up at you. Your gaze softened, your lips curving up as you gazed at Sunghoon's wide, dark eyes. They were shiny, almost glossy, as if he was tearing up. "And I think Riki calling you papa is a testament to how much you mean to me and him. You're our family, Sunghoon."

The room was silent again. You and Sunghoon stayed like that, gazing at each other for what felt like years. 

You felt all types of emotions, the main one being sheer anger. Who did Taehyun think he was? And even more importantly, how dare he take his audacity and hurt Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was your savior, he really was. You had no idea what you would do without him.

Watching as he tried to discreetly wipe the tears in his eyes, you threw your head back, letting a few chuckles fall from your lips.

His earnesty, how willing he was to help, and his sensitive side were all things that you cherished about him; they were all things that made you fall in love with him.

You don't know when it happened, or when you realized that you, in fact, loved your best friend, but it didn't matter that much. 

It didn't help that Sunghoon was so painfully obvious. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you weren't stupid. You noticed Sunghoon staring at you for a little longer than he should, the way he got nervous whenever you touched him. It was adorable.

If you had less self-control, you would have grabbed Sunghoon's face and kissed him so hard that he'd see stars. After all, for all the little things you did in the hopes of driving him crazy, his wide eyes staring at you like you were some god drove you crazy.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to loosen up a bit. 

After all, Sunghoon had to endure Taehyun and the trouble that he brought. He took it like a champ. 

He deserved a kiss, didn't he? For everything that he's done for you, for all the trouble that he's gone through. You figured he deserved a reward.

Slowly, you brushed Sunghoon's bangs away from his face, exposing his forehead. His shiny eyes followed you as you readjusted your position so that you laid beside him.

"[Name]?" his voice was a small whisper. God, you just wanted to eat him up.

You hummed, as you leaned closer to him. Sunghoon watched with fluttering eyes and a beating heart. Your face was inching so close to his that he was sure that you could hear how hard his heart was beating. 

Was it just him, or was it getting hot in here?

Sunghoon's stomach did a flip at the way you gazed at him with lidded eyes, your beautiful lips parted. Oh, if the sky didn't part open and swallow him whole right now. You were so close, so close that he could feel your breath on his cheek.

If you didn't pull away now, Sunghoon thought that his fingers, which were now getting sticky with webs that came out when he couldn't control his nerves, would shoot actual webs.

"Sunghoon," you finally said, your hand coming up to gently guide his face, making him look straight at you. He faltered under your gaze. 

"Y-Yes?"

There, you did it again— that thing where you glanced down at his lips for a few moments, before flickering back up to his eyes with a slight, smug grin. You were driving him crazy.

"Can I kis—"

Knock knock!

"Mama! Papa!"

Both you and Sunghoon immediately pulled away from each other, sitting up. You rushed to your bedroom door, opening it to find a tearful Riki (with Bisco his stuffed dog) in hand. You were quick to scoop him up, though you noticed the awkward expression on Sunghoon's face.

"What?"

How could you act like nothing happened?

"I-I—" Sunghoon stammered, his face bright red and his hair disheveled. He couldn't hide his disappointment now that you weren't close to him anymore.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Calm down, you dork."

With that, you left the room to go comfort your son, leaving Sunghoon alone, his mind fried and his cheeks pink.

Except, you came back within a few moments, this time without Riki.

With one hand, you grabbed Sunghoon's shoulder. With the other, you took his face, taking the poor man by surprise. Gently, you pressed your lips onto the corner of his lips, placing down a soft, chaste kiss.

It was a short, innocent kiss, one that barely lasted a second.

But Sunghoon froze, his mind filled with nothing but you, you, you.

"Happy now?" you rasped against the shell of his ear before pulling away. You chuckled at the way Sunghoon watched you with eyes as big as saucers, his entire face and neck now red, so warm that you could feel it radiating off of him.

That was scary about you, how you could read him so easily. You had him in the palms of your hands, ready to eat him up and play with him like he was putty.

You got up to leave, but when you got to the doorway, you stopped. You turned over your shoulder, a sly grin spread across your face.

"By the way, Sunghoon," you purred. "You should probably come quick. Riki just had a nightmare. Think he needs both mama and papa."

Shit, you were going to kill him.

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now.

Why did Sunghoon agree to this?!

A few days ago, DK told Sunghoon about an absolutely appalling opportunity: a Spider-Man meet-and-greet.

Sunghoon didn't know what sick person had this idea, but he reluctantly agreed.

And that's how he found himself on a Saturday afternoon sitting at a Spider-Man fan convention. He could be at home, spending time with you and Riki, but no, he's here taking pictures with little kids. 

A few kids already spilt their juice and slushies on him. Mothers shoved their babies in his face, while squealing middle schoolers took the most indiscreet pictures of him. It was hot, and Sunghoon was getting tired of putting on his customer-service voice.

Just as Sunghoon was about to sigh for the nth time that afternoon, he spotted two familiar faces in line.

Yours and Riki's.

You looked annoyed, maybe just as annoyed as Sunghoon was feeling, while Riki had the brightest smile on his face.

When he realized that you and Riki were in line to meet him, Sunghoon tried his best to speed through all the pleasantries and selfies.

And at last, you were up next.

"Hi, Spider-Man," you said quietly through gritted teeth. It was obvious that you were only here because of Riki.

"Hi, ma'am," Sunghoon said as curtly as possible.

Your face scrunched, unable to hide your disdain for Sunghoon as Spider-Man. 

"Uh, this is Riki, my son," you said, carefully handing your son over to the hero. You sighed, reluctantly taking out your phone to snap a few pictures. "Riki really loves your work."

"Smile for the picture, Riki!" you said, and that's the only time that you've smiled in the past ten minutes.

And then, the worst words tumbled out of Riki's mouth.

"Papa!"

Um.

What?

Sunghoon should have known. Last time, when he was carrying you and Riki through the sky, Riki recognized him as "Hoo" almost immediately.

And now, it seemed like Riki could still recognize him, this time as papa.

Sunghoon tensed up, and he froze up even more when Riki began to snuggle up against his blue and red - clad chest, giggling, "Papa!"

You looked horrified, your mouth agape and your brows knitted together.

"I-I'm so sorry, Spider-Man," you stammered, taking Riki back into your arms. "I don't know what's gotten into him."

"It's— ahem— fine," Sunghoon quipped. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

Sunghoon found himself frowning the entire time, until he checked his phone.

[name]: spiderman wants to be you so bad 

[name]: riki called him papa

[name]: sorry but youre the only papa i know

He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Sunghoon has been acting strange.

You knew it better than anyone else. 

It all started after another city-wide crisis. Giganto, the mad supervillain that Spider-Man's been fighting with for months, spread some contaminant in the water supply. This could have been avoided if Spider-Man just left the city, but alas, a few people had to be hospitalized. After that, the city's crime rate ran up the walls.

It wasn't difficult to notice it, the way Sunghoon's face scrunched up like he was deep in thought more often than not, the way he was quick to object you going out to the convenience store after dark, the way that he disappeared for a few hours at a time, suspiciously aligning with news reports, and most noticeably, the way that Sunghoon winced every time that you named Spider-Man.

You weren't stupid. In fact, you couldn't tell if you could just read Sunghoon well, or if he was just horrible at hiding how he felt.

As of now, you had a few suspicions, but all of them centered around one thing: Sunghoon had some affiliation with Spider-Man. He had to have, it was the only thing that made sense.

"I really don't think you should, [Name]," Sunghoon reasoned with you one night, his hands buried in his hair. 

"Why not?" Tonight, you wanted to test the waters even more. Sunghoon seemed to get antsy whenever you went out at night alone. "I'm just going to get groceries. We ran out of eggs."

You had your back turned to him as you jammed your feet into your shoes, but you listened closely to the worry in his voice.

"I-I can go get it tomorrow morning," he stumbled over his words. 

"What difference does that make?" you pressed. "Eggs that I buy at night are the same as eggs that you buy in the morning."

You reached for the door. "I'll be back in 20, promise."

You didn't know what switch flipped, but it seemed like as the door hinges turned, Sunghoon reached for your hand so fast that you didn't even see him moving. Has he always been that fast?

His grip was firm.

"I'll go with you," Sunghoon said solemnly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Suit yourself."

That was your tactic, pushing Sunghoon's limit until he had no choice but to take action. 

He was iffy about you going out at night, so you made sure to do it more often. Each time, he insisted that he went with you. It was funny, because he'd follow you like a guard dog, so willing to fight anyone that even so much as looked in your direction.

"Relax, it's just some kid."

"He looked at you funny."

"He looks like he's nine years old. He is not an assailant."

"But he can be."

You didn’t mind that Sunghoon wanted to go with you. It gave you an excuse to hold his hand, and snuggle up against his side in the cold hair. Sometimes, he’d give you his jacket, and you got to be engulfed in his scent. As long as you got to spend time with him, you figured that you didn't mind.

It was now that you realized just how strong Sunghoon was. He carried bags of groceries like it was nothing, and when you and him kicked pebbles along the sidewalk, he kicked his pebble with such minimal effort, yet it still somehow flung across the street at lightning speed.

But along with sticking with you at night, he texted you a lot more during the day, asking if you were okay. Did he think that you wouldn't notice?

What threw you off even more was when he randomly caught a fly with his bare hands, crushing the poor thing right between his fingertips like it was nothing. Since when did he have such precision?

Sunghoon has been acting strange, and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at his phone screen for what felt like the millionth time this week. 

It was noon now, Riki was at daycare and you were at work. 

It was no secret that the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. Sunghoon found himself fighting crime after crime, nearly blowing his cover multiple times.

As Sunghoon swung from building to building, he gazed down at the cityscape. It was still early in the day. He could see school children playing ball, laughing as if there wasn't a robbery just down the street. Businessmen in crisp suits pranced around the sidewalks like they owned the place, while public transitters waited around for the bus.

It was still crazy to him, how any one of these people could be the next person that he had to fatefully stop from committing a crime. 

The only good things about being Spider-Man, at this rate, was that he could easily watch over you throughout the day and that he could help people. If he got another microphone shoved in his face, Sunghoon might become the criminal.

"Are you serious?!" Sunghoon couldn't help but exclaim as he peered over the ledge. 

He was on his daily patrol, checking alleyways and stopping muggers, when he spotted a child, no older than ten, getting robbed. 

Seriously? A child?

Sunghoon sighed.

"Oi!" Sunghoon shouted as he swung down, extending his leg so that he could land an easy kick on the assailant's cheek. Maybe Sunghoon put a little too much force, because he swore he heard a cracking noise. As he landed, he made sure to stand in front of the child, shielding him from the assailant.

"Hey man," Sunghoon said smoothly, yet even through his masked face his contempt was apparent. "You realize this kid is like seven, right? Stop trying to rob children."

The assailant groaned in pain, still keeled over on the ground, so Sunghoon took that moment to usher the child away, leaving the two in the alleyway. 

The assailant was holding his nose, and that was when Sunghoon realized that he was bleeding.

He looked up at Sunghoon angrily, stumbling to his feet. "You broke my nose!"

Sunghoon shrugged. "You attack children. What about it?"

The assailant growled angrily, fumbling with the knife in his pocket as he charged toward Sunghoon.

Sunghoon sighed, rolling his eyes.

With the amount of media coverage Spider-Man got, he would expect people to understand by now that attacking him head-on was just impossible. Every single headline boasted about Spider-Man's super-human abilities, yet here people were, acting dumb as fuck.

Almost like Sunghoon could see movement in slow-motion, mere milliseconds before his assailant collided with him, he shot a web at the wall, flinging himself up to the wall. 

"C'mon man," Sunghoon taunted. "You're faster than that."

Before the man could respond, Sunghoon swung down and kicked him in the abdomen. He tried to get back up and land a stab at Sunghoon, but alas, he was too slow.

"I'm serious," Sunghoon chuckled, but behind his mask he was completely blank-faced, nearly bored. "You need to be a little faster if you wanna catch up to me."

With one more kick to the stomach, the man was down for good. Sunghoon dialed the police, and with that, he left.

Because he had witnessed a child get mugged earlier, Sunghoon's first instinct was to check up on Riki's daycare.

Sure, Riki was basically a baby, but the thought of a child being attacked made Sunghoon a little worried for him.

In fact, the thought of Riki being in danger made Sunghoon worried about you. Should he go check up on your office too?

Sunghoon's sure that you've noticed by now, how increasingly nervous he got about your safety. At first, he tried to conceal it better, but it got harder as crime increased.

If Sunghoon had superhuman levels of hearing, his ability to identify your voice from miles away must have been god tier.

Sunghoon clung to the walls of your office building, pressing his chest against the hard brick in order to not be as obvious. Stealthily crawling against the wall, Sunghoon finally found the window right where your office was.

Peering inside, Sunghoon could see that you were talking with one of your colleagues. You were smiling, laughing from time to time. It must have been a friendly conversation.

Sunghoon pressed his ear against the wall, letting his enhanced hearing do the work for him.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?" your colleague asked, leaning on your desk.

You hummed, typing away and half-listening. "I'm spending time with my family."

Your colleague smiled. "You and Riki?"

You shook your head absent-mindedly. "Me, Riki, and Hoon."

Sunghoon cracked a grin.

"Oh? Who's Hoon?"

Your eyes flickered away from your computer screen. "Sunghoon? He's my...." you trailed off. What was Sunghoon to you?

"Your?" Your colleague looked at you expectantly, but when you bashfully smiled, she gasped. "Don’t tell me…”

"W-Well, I mean— He's a good friend—"

"Tsk, tsk, if he really was a good friend you wouldn't struggle so much to say that." Your colleague sat down. "Do you like him or something?"

"Of course I do. He's a good friend—"

"That's not what I meant."

You huffed. 

Sunghoon held his breath

"I think I... love him?" you said it like a question, but you didn't look uncertain. The rest of your conversation was pretty plain, just exchanging pleasantries and chuckles about family life.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was completely zoned out. A gunshot could fire right beside him and even then he wouldn't be fully conscious and in his body.

You? 

Loved him?

Ohmygodyousaidthatyoulovedhim.

It was getting bad, how much those words affected him. Each time Sunghoon forced himself to recover mentally, your words would replay again in his head, making him squeeze his eyes shut and feel the heat rush back to his face. Sunghoon felt light-headed. If it weren't for the stickiness of his spiderwebs, Sunghoon would have fallen off the building by now.

Was he dreaming?

Sunghoon bit down on his lip to stop the dumb, dopey grin threatening to spill across his face, but alas, a simple glance at you through the window again had his heart jumping.

He felt like a high schooler, getting all giddy again as if no one has ever loved him before.

Well, it was true though. No one has ever loved him before, not in the way that you've loved him.

Maybe Sunghoon was right for being so protective of you over the past few weeks.

You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at this point, rather just amazed beyond words at the goddamn audacity of these people.

"I don't have money," you said simply, rolling your eyes.

"Are you sure about that, lady?"

You huffed. "Yes, I'm a single mother. You think I'm rich?— Ow, okay sorry."

You were just minding your own business, walking to the subway and thinking about how much you hated your boss, when you were pulled into an alleyway. You were lucky (if this could be considered lucky at all) that you were just getting mugged, who knows what else could have happened?

It was a group of three men, two holding you back and the other trying to extort you of your money. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have any cash on you.

The cold brick wall pressed harshly into your back, hard enough that you nearly winced in pain, but you made sure to show no signs of discomfort or struggle. That would make you seem weak, and if you wanted any chance of getting out unscathed, you should probably avoid showing any vulnerability.

"I can PayPal you," you said simply, your gaze bored.

"We want cash, lady."

You huffed. "I already said, I don't have cash on me. Do you have ApplePay?"

The men groaned.

You had a simple plan: continue to play dumb and keep suggesting alternative payment options to distract them, and when the time came, you'd land a kick to the crotch and make a run for it. A lot of people liked to pool at the convenience stores and bakeries nearby, so it shouldn't be difficult to catch their attention.

"What about Venmo?" you asked, your tone purposefully squeaky and annoying. "Or Zelle? I have a lot of money on Zelle."

You blinked at them, feigning some semblance of naivety, watching in near-satisfaction at the way their faces distorted incredulously.

And just as the three men shot each other looks, trying to reconvene, you realized that maybe your bit off more than you could chew. 

Maybe acting stupid wasn't the best idea, especially in the face of three people filled with the intent to rob you.

Slap!

Because the next thing you knew, your cheek was hot and prickling with pain, your eyes burning with tears from the sheer impact of that palm against your face.

Your jaw went slack in pure shock. Did they just—

Slap!

"Shut up, you bitch!"

Woah.

You opened your mouth to let out another witty response (which was probably already a bad idea to start with), but you're cut off when you're suddenly pushed all the way up against the hard brick wall. Your cheek was pressed against it; it was rough and cold.

Grubby hands patted you down, searching for any spare cash left in your pockets. You cringed as they searched through your long-discarded purse for the third time, only to find chapstick, lip gloss, and a bunch of cards. 

"Come on, woman, you need to have some money on you!" you heard one of them mutter, the rancid smell of cigarettes filling your nose. 

"I already said," you huffed, letting out a small yelp of pain as they shoved you against the wall again, your lip scraping against the rough brick. You tasted blood. "I don't have cash on me—"

They shoved you even harder this time, holding you by your head. Your entire cheek was pressed up against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as pain shot through your head. Maybe you shouldn't have talked so much smack, because now you were feeling light-headed from the sheer impact.

You couldn't see what happened in the next few moments, but you were suddenly lifted in the air by strong arms, strong arms that almost felt familiar. You heard some yelling and shouting, and a few more sudden groans of pain. 

It took you a few moments to realize that it was a certain blue and red superhero scooping you up, and it took you even longer to realize that it was this same hero that had gently placed you up on the ledge, before going back down to the alley to wreak havoc on those men.

It was horrific, the way that Spider-Man raised his fists, crashing them down on these men so hard that you could see the dark red blood stains seeping onto his spandex costume. The painful cries, the sound of Spider-Man's fists making contact with their bodies, it was all a terrible sound.

You watched silently, slack-jawed.

Spider-Man always had a more action-packed fighting style, utilizing his webs and arsenal of abilities and gadgets to make a spectacle of his fights (whether intentional or not). 

Yet, here he was, using nothing but his bare hands to beat these men to a pulp.

It made your head hurt, everything. Even from the ledge high up, you could smell the must, blood, and sweat. It made you feel sick.

You could feel yourself lose all energy, deflating. You just wanted to go home, and feel your son and Sunghoon's warmth.

Riki, you thought as you watched in horror.

"Hoon," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself to the point that you didn't even realize that you said it.

Then, everything stopped, and suddenly you were up in the air again.

You mustered all the strength you had left in yourself to become aware of your surroundings. "Spider—"

"Don't talk."

So you didn't.

As you felt your mind cloud up, you could only think of a few things.

First, that your entire body had a subtle ache.

And second, that Spider-Man's voice sounded really familiar.

“Where were you? Why do you have a cut on your lip? Why were you out so late?” were the first words spilling out of Sunghoon’s mouth the moment you appeared in the doorway. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why would you stay out when it’s dark—?”

You appreciated the concern, but you simply did not have it in you talk to him. You were exhausted, and even more mentally drained. You walk past him, ignoring Sunghoon's bombarding questions, completely oblivious to the way he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, rubbing his bruised knuckles as his brows crashed together.

"Why aren't you answering me?" Sunghoon clutched your shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. You missed the ring of red around his eyes, too focused on your own bloody lips to see the even larger gash slowly healing on Sunghoon's cheek. His breath was heavy, almost like he'd been running around like crazy.

You let out an exasperated sigh, your tired eyes fluttering over to him. The events that transpired earlier were not a big deal to you, but it sure did suck the energy out of you.

Sunghoon cupped your cheek, taking your face into his hands. He studied your expression, brushing his finger against your cut lip. When you hissed at the sensation, Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath, before his face pinched.

"This is why I told you not go out after dark—"

"Not right now, Sunghoon," you grumbled, pulling away from him. You let out another sigh. "I don't feel like having this conversation right now."

He reached out for you, but you turned on your heel, heading towards Riki's room.

"How's Riki?"

Sunghoon stared at you, before swiping his tongue over his lips. "I-I'm serious, [Name]. We can't keep having this conversation."

"Not right now," you repeated yourself, not even looking at him.

"No!" Sunghoon cried, his outburst making you stop and cock a brow at him. "We need this conversation now. Y-You— It's not safe anymore."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Just, don't go out anymore," he stumbled over his words, yet his face was solemn. "Please, just come home early. And if—And if you want to go out, I'll go with you."

Maybe it was because you were already having a bad day, or maybe you were just tired, but you felt anger begin to bubble inside of you.

These past few weeks, Sunghoon had been protective of you. It was endearing sometimes, but now it was getting ridiculous. You were capable of handling yourself, and if you weren't, that was your own responsibility to take care of, not his. You appreciated the concern, but not his visceral disapproval of any time you even decided to step outside.

"Sunghoon," you said calmly, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "I'm a grown woman. I can go outside by myself."

"No," he shook his head vehemently, taking your hands into his. "You don't get it. You don't know what's out there. It's not safe for you."

You tried your best. You really tried your hardest to swallow all the hot anger threatening to tumble out of your lips. You dug your nails into your palms, taking slow breaths as Sunghoon gave you a lengthy lecture about why you weren't prepared for the 'outside world' anymore.

It was difficult. You couldn't be angry that he cared about you, that he was so worried for your wellbeing. But as more words about how you couldn't possibly handle yourself outside were bleeding into your ears like shrill pots and pans to the point that it was unbearable to listen to.

"Am I weak to you, Sunghoon?" you finally interrupted him amidst his tangent.

"What? No, I—"

"Then why do you keep acting like I am?" No, you shouldn't be raising your voice at him like this, not when all he was doing was showing you how much he cared about you. Each word was calm, but you felt the venom seeping in with each syllable. "I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of how you act like I'm incapable of defending myself."

"But—"

"I don't want to hear it anymore," you grumbled, rubbing your temples and turning your back to him. "Please. I just want quiet right now."

The two of you stood in silence like that for a few pulses, the air tense— the most tense that the two of you have ever been.

The silence was broken when Sunghoon took in a deep breath, cracking the front door open, before stepping outside and quietly shutting it.

The entire apartment was deathly silent. With what remaining energy you had left, you retired to your room. The moment your back hit the mattress, your heavy eyelids shut.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon took a stroll along the apartment complex. The cool air kissed his cheek, running through his hair.

Was he wrong for worrying about you so much?

Should he have approached things differently?

How was he going to resolve this now?

Maybe Taehyun was right, that he was trying so hard to be a Prince Charming of sorts– your knight in Shining Armor.

It was never Sunghoon's intention to make you feel weak. 

He was just scared. When he saw you in that alleyway, his blood ran cold, and all he could think about was protecting you.

The mere thought of you getting even more hurt than you already were frightened Sunghoon.

Sunghoon wasn't sure how long he spent outside, but it was long enough for his skin to feel cold to the touch.

After collecting himself, Sunghoon had a plan to resolve this bump along the road: he'd go inside, apologize, and explain himself clearly. Anxiety gnawed at him from the inside out, but he knew he had to make things right.

But as Sunghoon made his way back to your apartment door, taking in a deep breath before he reached for the door handle and rehearsing what he wanted to tell you in his head, something interrupted his thoughts.

First, it was the sound of glass breaking.

Then, the sound of Riki crying, and at last, your screaming.

And when Sunghoon busted down the front door, he found the entire house empty, save for the shattered glass window of your bedroom.

"Shhh, Baby don't cry," you shakily breathed, holding Riki close to your chest. "It's okay, it's okay— Shhh."

The last thing you expected was to be kidnapped by Spider-Man's number one opponent, the supervillain Giganto.

But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.

But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.

It all happened so quickly that you could barely remember how you got here. The hair on your hands was standing up, a chill running down your spine. The entire facility felt empty, only the sound of your breathing and Riki's crying reverberating off the walls, but you knew better. Giganto took you here, so he must be nearby. You didn't even know why he wanted you to begin with, but now you had to deal with the reality of it.

You thought back to Sunghoon.

Wasn't this what he was warning you about? Why did you have to be influenced by your feelings like that? If you just listened to him and acted maturely, this could have been avoided... right?

You couldn't imagine how he felt now. He was just trying to protect you, and you just threw it back into his face. This was the second time that you were shitty to Sunghoon; how could you say that you loved him when all you did was be an asshole to him?

You would wallow in self-pity, but you had Riki to protect now.

Your eyes flickered around the dark and empty facility. Any moment now, Giganto could appear and kill you, or something.

You didn't know much about Giganto, other than that he had the ability to change sizes. That is, he could become very large or very small in an instant.

"Riki, breathe baby," you huffed, hoping that the fast beating of your heart would slow down soon enough for you to think straight. You swallowed the lump in your throat. For the first time ever, you wished that Spider-Man would come and save you from this maniac.

"Well, hello there."

Speak of the devil.

From the shadows emerged a man. He was in a skin-tight suit, with a mask hiding everything but his eyes and mouth, similar to Spider-Man. What made him stand out was the gadget in his hand. It was a gun-like gadget of some sort, glowing bright green.

You narrowed your eyes at him as goosebumps rose on your arms.

"Giganto," you questioned, your voice hoarse from screaming earlier, "Why did you take me here?"

The supervillain grinned, taking his time as he promenaded around the rink. Was he wearing ice-skates? How pompous.

"Is it that hard to figure out?" Giganto mused, his fingers running along the edge of his gadget. "Why don't you take a guess?"

You had no answer. The only thing that made sense was that you were a civilian and a resident of this city. What other connection to Giganto did you have other than that?

You stayed silent, holding Riki even closer to your chest as you realized that Giganto was walking— err, skating?— towards you. Your shoulders tensed, trying to pull your curled up legs to your chest.

"Relax, woman," the villain huffed. That's when you realized that he wasn't just holding that gadget, but various other... cones? They looked like those tiny plastic traffic cones at Riki's daycare. Giganto began to place them adjacent to you. "I'm just setting up for a game."

A game?

Just when you thought that Giganto probably forgot about your earlier question, he skated back to where he was previously.

"So, you have a guess yet?"

You would have said something witty, but you remembered what happened last time you tried to use your words to get out of something.

It was distracting you, the way that Giganto was paying extra attention to the gadget in his hands, brandishing it and shining the thing like it was a jewel.

And it seemed that he noticed this too.

“Oh this?” the villain threw his head back, letting out a laugh, a laugh that you knew too well to be fake because hey, working in an office with shitty coworkers and an even shittier boss made you receptive to it. “It’s just what I call a Size-inator!”

He let out another string of cartoonishly villainous laugh, nearly comical how enunciated it was. It was so ridiculous that Riki stopped crying, sending you a confused look. And when all you did was stare at him like he was a maniac, Giganto stopped laughing.

“Isn’t this impressive?” Giganto threw his hands up in the air. “Gee, you people are never satisfied.”

You nodded slowly. He looked so excited about this Size-inator, almost like he was just waiting for you to ask about it. You wouldn’t mind doing some talking. After all, it could buy you time and information.

“Right…” you nodded slowly. “So this Size-ometer-"

“Size-inator,” he corrected you.

“Yeah, yeah, this Size-er,” you waved him off, “What does it do?”

"Thought you'd never ask!" Giganto threw his hands up into the air theatrically. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, all the lights turned off in the ice rink, only a spotlight shining over the villain. "The Size-inator is a device designed by moi. I can shoot whatever I want— he pointed the gadget to one of the cones he placed down, pulling the trigger. In an instant, the cone shrunk— "And it will change in size!"

"Pretty neat, isn't it?" he looked at you slyly.

You nodded slowly. "So it's a shrink ray, basically."

"Nuh-uh!" Giganto's outburst made you cock a brow at him. "It's a Size-inator!"

"Right."

.

.

.

"So... Where's Spider-Man?" Giganto asked, teetering on his ice-skates like a teenage girl waiting on her crush.

Your face scrunched.

Um.

How were you supposed to know?

"Uh, I don't know?" you said, your tone questioning your own certainty.

Giganto's face morphed into an incredulous one. He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Don't lie to me, woman!"

You shook your head, shrugging vehemently. "I really don't!"

Giganto skated up to you, his ice-skates scraping up against the ice to make a shrill sound. He peered down at you, his eyes suspicious even through the mask.

"So you mean to tell me that you've coming home to the same apartment as Sungjoon Park everyday and you didn't know that he's Spider-Man?" the villain eyed you suspiciously.

Sungjoon Park?

"What are you talking about? I only know a Sunghoon Park—"

At the sound of Sunghoon's name, Riki stirred. 

"Papa!" he exclaimed, wriggling in your hold.

"Yeah, yeah, Sunghoon Park, or whatever," Giganto waved off. "You didn't know that he's Spider-Man this entire time?—" he pointed at Riki— "You have a child with him!"

Crash!

Before you could even process things, a massive crash rang throughout the entire facility, followed by the sound of car sirens going off and glass breaking.

"Oh! Gotta goooo!" Giganto sped away, summoning his other little gadgets, presumably to go check up on the commotion outside. "Don't you dare try to escape, woman! I'm always watching!"

And then you were left alone again, in the middle of a cold ice rink.

Tap, tap.

Sunghoon? 

Spider-Man?

Tap, tap.

You knew that Giganto was a maniac, but you didn't know that he was that insane.

Tap, tap.

That wouldn't make any sense.

Sunghoon might be associated with him somehow, but your own best friend as the Spider-Man?

No way.

Tap, tap.

And now that Giganto was gone—

Tap, tap.

That tapping sound was going to drive you crazy—!

"Pssst!"

You shot your head around. No one was there.

You looked in the other direction, then all around you. No one was there either.

"Look up here!"

You whipped your head up to the ceiling, where a massive opening had been created from the rubble. And lo and behold, there hung the one and only friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

"C'mon, [Name]," he said, reaching out a hand to you, "Take my hand and we'll escape."

Your eyes widened into saucers, bulging out of your head. You swore that you've heard that voice before, and as you flashed through all of your memories, you could never recall an instance where Spider-Man's voice matched with that of Spider-Man. Instead, all the memories lined up with Sungh—

"Papa!" Riki cried.

That's something that you could never wrap your head around. Riki seemed to call only Sunghoon papa. Yet, he's been calling Spider-Man papa, too.

You kept your eyes trained on the hero's wide, white eyes, your mind running on its own while your mouth moved. 

"I-I'm tied up, Spider-Man," you stammered. 

A familiar voice, papa, a weird obsession with crime and safety, it all didn't make sense.

Spider-Man dropped down from the ceiling, carefully untying the ropes wrapped around your hands and feet.

"Are you okay?" the hero asked, helping you stand up with wobbly feet. To your surprise, Spider-Man clutched your chin, forcing you to look at him. In his other hand, he held Riki, to which Riki began snuggling up against his chest. And then, worried words streamed from his lips, in a tone that you knew all too well. "Did he do anything to you? Are you hurt? Can you stand?—"

For a split second, you thought you were going crazy. 

For a split second, his voice sounded exactly like Sunghoon's: with the same breathiness, the same cadence, and of course, the same exact concern that made your heart melt.

For a split second, you could almost see Sunghoon's thick eyebrows furrowing behind the mask, worry strewn all across his expression.

"Sunghoon?"

Spider-Man froze, going frigid all the while Riki continued to nuzzle his face in his strong chest.

Behind the mask, you could see almost exactly how Sunghoon would bite down on his tongue, his lips parting while his eyes flashed around the room; his nervous tick.

"Sunghoon," you whispered again, this time with a type of desperation that you never knew you had. You could feel your chest pounding, the sound of your heart thrumming against your ribcage filling your ears. "Sunghoon, please."

Please tell me it's you.

Slowly, you reached up to cup Spider-Man's face, and to your surprise, the hero leaned into your touch.

"[Name]," Spider-Man whispered shakily, so low that you could barely hear it.

Hearing it roll off his tongue, that confirmed everything that you needed to know.

Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility. 

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility. 

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

Sunghoon shot a web back up at the ceiling where the opening was. 

Giganto loaded his shrink ray, and in that moment, you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Yet, instead of feeling yourself shrink into oblivion, you felt your entire body lift up into the air, before being hoisted back to your feet.

"You don't trust me?" Sunghoon grinned into your ear, his hands still wrapped tightly around you.

You opened your eyes slowly. You were on a rooftop.

"Woah..."

With Riki back in your arms, you looked down to see the vast cityscape below your feet. The dark blue night sky was peppered with white splotches of stars and satellites. The lights were beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.

The feeling of Sunghoon's warmth behind you, as well as Riki's little giggles, made you melt.

"W-Where are we?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the view.

"Far," Sunghoon breathed against your ear. Then, he pulled away from you, gently guiding you to a ledge in the inner perimeter of the rooftop. "Far from Giganto."

And as he began to slink away, your eyes widened, reaching out to him instinctively. "Where are you going?"

Sunghoon turned around. He ruffled Riki's hair, then brushed his gloved finger against your cheek. 

"I need to go fight Giganto," he said simply.

Before you could protest, Sunghoon clutched your chin, making you look at him.

"Well, you said that Spider-Man was useless," you could hear him grin behind the mask. "This is my one time to impress you. I'll beat him up really good, I promise."

His tone was light-hearted, trying to make you smile, yet you only chewed on your lip, looking on hesitantly. 

"I'll be safe," Sunghoon reassured you, leaning in closer to you. 

You looked at him with clouded eyes. "Are you sure? What if you get hurt?"

It was funny, how the roles were now reversed: now, it was you worrying about his safety.

"I'm strong," Sunghoon chuckled, flexing his bicep. "The strongest."

You still looked apprehensive, so Sunghoon leaned in even closer, cupping your cheek.

"Don't worry about me," he said lowly, his hands holding you like you were a delicate piece of glass. 

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath. You nodded your head, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself, before meeting his eyes.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes like that for a few pulses, getting lost in the comfort of each other, a momentary escape from reality.

And then, letting all of your inhibitions run free, you grabbed Sunghoon's masked face, and pressed a right where his lips were. You pulled away quickly, but this time, you had a determined look on your face.

Sunghoon stood there frozen, suddenly dazed as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, flustered.

"Well?" you grumbled, averting your gaze. "What are you waiting for? Go impress me, Spider-Man."

Sunghoon never turned on his heel and began swinging away any faster.

Sunghoon flushed as he heard you giggling from the other room.

He hated the media, he hated it so much.

But, he had to admit, he was grateful for all the news outlets this one time.

Because truth be told, they caught some pretty badass shots of him kicking Giganto's ass.

Not because Sunghoon personally wanted cool pictures of himself, but because now you and Riki were rewatching clips of the fight in the other room. Riki giggled, exclaiming every other second and clapping his hands cutely, while you cooed not just at his cuteness, but at the way Sunghoon's muscles flexed in each shot.

He had to admit, the camerawork made the fight look a lot more intense than it actually was.

What actually went down was pretty simple.

Giganto made Sunghoon play a game of some sorts, some supervillain version of laser-tag. Sunghoon was going to be in ice-skates, and he was going to have to evade Giganto's Size-inator. The villain chose ice-skating because apparently it was way harder to move around in ice-skates than not. However, he completely forgot two very important facts.

The first one was that Spider-Man was... Well, Spider-Man. Sunghoon's abilities were heightened to the max, so his reflexes and physical capabilities transcended whatever man-made gadget Giganto had.

The second one was that Sunghoon was kickass at ice-skating, all thanks to the many times that he'd gone with you and Riki. There was something about showing off how good he was in front of you, the literal love of his life, that shaped Sunghoon into the absolute pro at ice-skating that he was now.

It's safe to say, Giganto's defeat was pathetic. He was arrested, and his identity was revealed to be some corporate slave trying to reach stardom through criminal activities.

Sunghoon had to force himself to take deep breaths, stifling the stupid grin threatening to spread on his face as he heard you and Riki's giggles.

"Are you guys ready to go?" he poked his head in through the doorway. "Oh wow."

There you were, wearing a pretty dress that hugged your body a little too well. Sunghoon's jaw went slack as his eyes glazed over your figure, gulping audibly as you made your way over to him.

"Hey there, Handsome," you purred, sliding your hands up his chest.

"Hi." No matter how long he's known you, how many times he's seen you in a figure-hugging dress, how many times you've kissed him until he saw stars, Sunghoon felt like putty in your presence.

"I love you in this color," you mused. You were definitely doing it on purpose, running your nails against his arm and getting all touchy.

Sunghoon's mouth felt dry. Was it getting hot it here, or was it just him? "Th-Thank you."

Linking fingers with Sunghoon, you pushed your chest forward and up against his chest.

"You know," you breathed against his neck. You smelled so good, your scent filled Sunghoon's head deliciously. "I've been waiting for tonight all week."

Sunghoon's palms were getting sweaty, goosebumps rising on his skin and the hairs on his neck standing up. "R-Really?"

"Of course," you cooed, before pulling away. You did a little twirl for him, showing off your dress.

"I'm ready," you smiled, your glossy lips moving in a way that made Sunghoon feel light-headed. You looked delicately over your shoulder, bursting out laughing. When Sunghoon peered over your shoulder, he also couldn't help but let chuckles fall from his lips.

"Riki, baby, what are you doing?!"

Riki was dressed up, but poor baby must have been tired, as he was all curled up against the floor, dozing off like nothing else mattered.

Tonight was a family night.

The plan was to go out for dinner as a family, and after, go home and watch a movie. It was a simple plan, but a plan that made Sunghoon all giddy with excitement. Riki wailed a little bit when you two woke him up, but just seeing you and Sunghoon's face made him peaceful in an instant.

Hand-in-hand, you, Sunghoon, and Riki walked off into the night.

And Sunghoon thought, there isn't anything else in the world that he could ask for.

Not when he was able to spend the rest of his life with his little family.

Not when he was head over heels in love with you.