#and my parents tell me she died while i was out at school

[stardust-sunset]

i come home from my first day of school and the first thing i hear is that my dog died

[nomairuins]

read asoue to weeman as a bedtime story he liked it YAYYYY

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Nope.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they’re silenced immediately. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't like it one bit. 

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

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

A spark. 

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

What the hell was that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That scared the shit out of him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

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

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

“Gross.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

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

Bam. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You. He still needs to save you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What. The. Fuck. 

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

Until now. 

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

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

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

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

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

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing. 

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

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

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

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

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

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

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

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

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

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

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

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

Do not say it’s true. 

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

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

“Holy shit.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

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

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

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

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

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

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

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

“Jake.” 

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d Jake find out?” 

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

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

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

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But first, he has to try something out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought girls liked this.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

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

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

[theonlythingimfuckingisstupid]

not okay 

[theragethatisdesire]

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on. 

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

[yumeka-sxf]

According to this tweet from Endo, today's new chapter will be the final installment of the "Henry x Martha backstory" arc...and it definitely went out on a high note! The part where Martha meets Henry's wife was absolutely heartbreaking...in particular the below page, starting with an upside down view of the scene, showing how the world is literally warping for Martha, followed by shards and shreds of her various memories with Henry, all the while the "throb, throb" of her heart is overlaying all the panels. Definitely one of Endo's best portrayals of a truly shocking moment.

It's also interesting that we never see Lucia's face, despite her having a big panel when she first appears.

Endo has done this before with other characters, Loid's parents being the other big example. We also never see their faces, despite them appearing several times during his flashback arc.

With the few examples we've had, to me it seems like Endo hides the faces of characters who 1) appear as flashbacks only and 2) who have had a significant emotional impact on the character whose memories they appear in, but at the same time, that character has since done their best to get over the painful memories associated with them. So they basically represent some past trauma for the character (even if they don't necessarily dislike them) but in the current time, they've more or less left that part of their past behind. Hence why their faces are obscured in the character's memories. This is also why I think we'll never see Loid's parents or Lucia's faces outside of flashbacks. This is just my interpretation of course, and I'm curious if there will be more examples in other characters' flashback arcs.

But back to Henry and Martha, I also liked the fact that, despite her broken heart, Martha still saw Lucia as a good person and became friends with her. Henry seems to love her as well. This actually ties back very well to what Martha tells Becky at the end of her story about how dangerous it is to latch onto preconceptions and prejudices without knowing the truth.

In Becky's simple world, she would see Lucia as the "evil seductress who stole Henry away" and Martha has to get him back. But as Martha said, things aren't always that simple and don't always adhere to our preconceived notions. Sometimes things can't end up exactly how you want or expect, so you have to be grateful for what you have and see things as they truly are, despite living with lingering regrets. In fact, this whole speech from Martha at the conclusion of her flashback was extremely deep and profound. Not many people can write both comedy and drama so well, but Endo is certainly one of them.

Also, is this Wiesel's first appearance? Still waiting for the doggy play date chapter with Wiesel, Bond, Max, and Aaron! 🐶

Since it's been so long since I read the first chapter of this arc, I couldn't remember if Martha had actually revealed the identity of her lover in her story, but makes sense that she didn't. I can imagine Becky storming into school yelling at Henderson and causing total embarrassment for all 😅 Funny that she almost guessed correctly though.

I'm surprised we never found out how Martha started working for the Blackbells, but that's an easy enough mystery to solve - she needed work after the wars were over, and being a bodyguard suited an ex-soldier. Also seems like she never told Henry her true feelings either...maybe by the time Lucia died, it was too late and they had both grown somewhat apart by then, and/or they had some additional falling outs about Martha joining the other wars, etc. It just wasn't meant to be and the message of the story was Martha coming to terms with that and being wiser for it.

In conclusion, this was a great arc that really shows Endo's range as a writer who can do both comedy and drama very well. Despite Henry and Martha being side characters, I have a feeling that the struggles they experienced will have relevance later in the series. But for now, I look forward to seeing the Forgers and other characters again (and getting back to the last major uproar of Anya telling Damian about her powers...seems like ages ago, lol). Endo will be taking a well deserved break, so the next new chapter will be on August 19th!

I also have some new posts planned in the coming weeks, so stay tuned for those as well 😀

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast VI

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: You and Ellie fight

Mamma is standing at your door, arms crossed and you know you're in trouble.

She's giving you a look that she usually doesn't give.

Mamma is not a very angry person. She's not mean and she doesn't yell or lecture like the parents of some of your school friends. Mamma doesn't cross her arms over her chest or ordinarily look at you like she's looking at you now.

But right now she is and that's a bit scary.

"You know," She says, stepping inside and shutting your bedroom door behind her," I thought that you two would be okay with each other while I was out."

You remain silent.

"Imagine my surprise when I get a call from Ellie in tears over your behaviour."

"Ellie's pathetic," You mutter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mamma."

Daan sits on the edge of your bed. "Talk to me. What happened?"

You stubbornly huff. "Ellie tried to kill me!"

Daan sighs. "She didn't try to kill-"

"She fed me pear!" You insist," Mumma, I'm not lying! It's true!"

"It was an accide-"

"It was pear! I could have died!"

It had happened a few days ago when you and Ellie had already been butting heads over everything.

You wanted a new toy at the store. Ellie didn't let you.

You didn't want to go to the kid's club at the gym. Ellie made you.

You didn't want to wash your hair after coming home. Ellie didn't take no for an answer.

Then she made lunch, some weird fruit salad thing and you had nearly eaten a chunk of pear.

You'd blown up at her, all of your built up annoyance at her bubbling up into pure rage as you screamed and cried and sobbed over the piece of pear still stuck on your fork.

You'd said some pretty hurtful things. Like how Ellie didn't deserve Mumma and how you didn't want her as your Mum and you wished Ellie would just go back to Australia and never come back.

You knew they were hurtful and mean but she hadn't been listening to you and your feelings all day and you wanted her to feel like how she'd been making you feel.

You hadn't known you'd made Ellie cry though.

Grown ups like Ellie weren't meant to cry.

"But it was still an accident," Daan tells you, cutting off anything else you were going to say," Ellie told me she mixed up your pear-free bowl with hers. She's sorry."

You look away even as Daan softly cards a hand through your hair. You purse your lips. "Ellie didn't listen to me all day. Even before the pears."

"And I'll talk to Ellie about her behaviour like how I'm talking to you about yours. Now, I want you to think about your actions and how you could have reacted differently. You're free to stay in your room until dinner but if you come out before then, you need to apologise to Ellie, okay?"

"Okay, Mumma."

"Good girl." She presses a kiss to the side of your head. "I don't like coming home to find out my girls are arguing."

"I'm sorry, Mumma."

"Don't apologise to me. Apologise to Ellie."

You stubbornly stay in your room for as long as you think Mumma will need to talk to Ellie before venturing out.

You can hear Mumma in her room unpacking her suitcase from her trip and you can also hear the tv going in English so you know that Ellie's watching it.

Mumma likes watching tv in Dutch and then French when she thinks she needs to practice but Ellie hates it so if it's in English then you know Ellie's in control of it.

"Ellie," You say and she jumps out of her skin, her head whipping around to face you.

"Hey, Pipsqueak." She gives you an awkward little smile and you shuffle a bit closer. "What's up?"

"I..." You look away, unwilling to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry for what I said. You do deserve Mumma, I do want you as my mum and I don't want you to leave to Australia." You nod once you've recited everything. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry to," She says," For not listening to your feelings all day and for giving you pear."

You both stand awkwardly in front of each other and you finally raise your gaze to meet hers.

There's something twinkling in her eyes and you stick your tongue out.

"I'm not hugging you if that's what you're waiting for!"

She laughs, ruffling your hair as you try to duck away. "It's great that you're back to normal!"

Her fingers dig into your armpits and you shriek as you try to squirm away.

Daan walks in to see Ellie trying to tie you up in a blanket while you try to smother her with a pillow.

Right back to the normal.

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[something worse]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Tobias Eaton (Four) x Fem! Dauntless Born! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Four had been together since he chose Dauntless, especially because you were one of the Dauntless born pulled into training. You both had never put a label on your relationship because it never seemed right, but everyone knew that you both were a couple, except the newest tributes you both were training, no matter how obvious you both made it. It seems you both have to make it a little more obvious.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - so sorry I was writing this during a final and it might suck I’m sorry 😭 || cursing || unprotected sex || creampie || oral || fingering

You were used to wandering eyes, you really were, your partner was literally the hottest man in Dauntless. It didn’t really matter about wandering eyes though when they knew you both were together, label or not, but it seemed to be difficult to get through the mind of one of the new initiates.

You weren’t born Abnegation like either of them, you were a bitch and you made sure everyone knew it. You were a lovable bitch though, that’s why you were being fucked every night by the hottest man in all of the factions.

It passed through your mind to just show her, get Four to tell her something is going on in a certain area just to pull him there to fuck you. You passed it through Tori just to make sure, and she said no though, so you decided not to go through with it.

Maybe that’s why you were watching Four fix Tris’ position because she wouldn’t stick with it when Eric did it. It made your skin crawl, staring at the two of them. Maybe it did feel right that he was with someone from his home faction, didn’t he like selfless people? You were selfless in your own way, right? He knew that.

“Hey, you okay?” Uriah asks you, a smile quickly making its way to your face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, thank you. I’m going to go see how some of the kids are doing, you mind telling Four?” You start collecting your stuff, inhaling deeply as Uriah follows you.

“He’s coming over here.”

You shoot up as Four stands in front of you, his brow raised. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go do my time at the school,” you say, smiling slightly. “I just… haven’t seen King in a while.”

Four sighs. “Well… I can go with you in a minute, okay? King likes me, right?”

You laugh, slowly lifting your arms to wrap your arms around his neck before pausing. Public displays of affection were never really your thing, but you really wanted to.

Four saw you pause, leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist as you smiled and wrapped yours around his neck. “Everyone likes you, Four,” you teased, giggling. “But I love you.”

He smiles back, leaning down for a soft kiss as you tugged on his hair. “I love you too.”

You pulled his hands closer to your form, pulling his face into your neck as you looked over his shoulder just enough to wink at Tris before pulling away. “Let’s go see King.”

He nods, letting you lead him out of the training area and to the school. Dauntless didn’t teach like Erudite did, but they made sure that the children of the faction learned things needed to survive in the faction. King was a child of two Dauntless soldiers who had died exploring beyond the wall, and as a result, you both took him in sort of like your own.

Seeing you with a child really made Four want to give you a child, especially with how good you were with kids, but it never really seemed to be the right time.

That was until he saw you twirling another boy in your eyes, King cleaning one of Four’s guns while the older man oiled up one of the other ones. The younger boy was named Chris, someone whose parents got caught up in a mission and you both took him home just for a while.

“She looks good with a baby, right?” King asks, smiling. “Y/N was always good with kids. She was good with me,” he mumbles now, smiling. “I’m doing well in my training. She said that.”

“You are,” Four said with a smile. “You’re doing really well. Ranked third, kid, you’re doing good,” he leaned forward and ruffled his hair with a laugh. “Want you to get that first spot, though.”

King grins. “I will.”

Someone knocks making you fix Chris on your hip, quickly walking toward the door as Four stands. “Stay there,” he orders to King as you open the door, raising a brow when you see Tris. “Who is it?”

“Uhm… can I help you?”

She inhaled. “I just… I’m here to see Four.”

“Four, honey!” You yell out, the tall man coming behind you and settling a hand on your hip. “One of the trainees wants to speak with you.”

Four raised a brow. “Everything alright?”

Oh, the Abnegation was coming out.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine-”

“Perfect,” Four smiles, taking Chris from your arms and setting him on the ground. “King, come here!”

The older boy quickly walks over, standing just like Four. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take Chris down to eat? Tris will join you both,” Four says making King’s nose scrunch. “What?”

“Don’t forget I sleep here too.” King takes Chris’ hand, looking back just a bit. “Don’t forget I have a bed! That’s my bed!”

“Bye, King!” You laughed as Four grinned, closing the door as his other hand held your waist.

You couldn’t stop smiling, giggling as you stared up at him. “You did that, didn’t you?”

His smile grows, just a bit. “Yeah, I did. Uriah kind of… hinted it to me.”

You hummed. “Good, because I would've done something worse,” you said, slowly stepping back and pushing your hands into his tight black shirt. “I was this close.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” He asked, smiling as the back of your knees bumps against the bed. His rough hands slip under your shirt, rubbing against your back as though he could feel the black ink you had gotten tattooed.

“Was gonna make her catch us fucking in the corridor,” you giggled as Four slipped off your shirt, humming as he leaned down. “Who said we always have to fuck on the bed? You like that idea?”

He nodded into your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you started to lean back, his hands securely catching you before you could fall back fully. Carefully, he sets you down, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck down your chest. “I fucking love that idea,” he mumbled, his hand slowly rubbing circles against your thigh. “You want to go do that now?”

It was a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “No,” you say, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “You already got me here. Why move?”

He smiled even wider, leaning down as his hands moved to your hips to slowly tug at the tactile pants you wore. “I was thinking,” he whispers as you pull him down to press kisses to his neck. You could see the black peeking out from his shirt, pulling it off of him easily as he pulled away just to slip it off before pulling off your own. “You looked good with Chris on your hip.”

You paused, looking up at him. “You think so?”

He nodded, his hands tugging at your sports bra as your hands dragged down his back. He kneels over your body, pressing kisses down your neck to your chest. “I know so. You’re a natural with kids, angel, you’re fucking perfect.”

The slight husk in his voice made a shiver run up your back, your stomach twisting and heat flooding into your underwear as he lets his hot mouth suck at your lower stomach. “D-Does that mean something?”

He smiled, looking up at you. “Did I just get a Dauntless-born to stutter?”

You blushed madly, looking away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Four.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvic bone before he slowly starts to pull your underwear off, his fingers dancing along your thighs as you squirmed, gasping as he pressed a firm kiss to your clit. It makes you squirm, his fingers replacing his lips as he kisses lower and lower.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper as the tip of his fingers slowly prod against your cunt, his mouth sucking and licking around his fingers as your hands push into his hair. “F-Four, you’re being too nice.”

He laughs, pulling away just for a minute as he slowly pushes a thick finger into you, watching as your hips buck into the air and your back arches. “Maybe it’s the Abnegation?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand down to push his fingers deeper into your pussy. It makes you whine, a gasp coming from your lips as he pulls them out just for a second to add another finger. “Abnegation is selfless, my darling, maybe it’s the Amity? J-Just, don’t stop.”

He laughs, popping a kiss to your cunt before pushing his fingers deeper into you, watching as you squirmed. Moans fall from your lips as he pressed firm circles against your clit, the sensitive bud making you whine loudly, hips bucking.

His fingers curl inside of you, pushing his tongue into you with his fingers as you tug on his hair and your other hand finds his cheek.

You felt your stomach twisting, hips bucking uncontrollably as you attempted to ride his fingers. You gasped as his fingers curled inside of you, attempting to find that one soft spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. It didn’t take him long to find, especially because he’s memorized your body over the years and he groaned as you clenched around him.

“Come on honey, cum for me. Want to watch you cum.”

Your eyes rolled back, whimpering as he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you to watch your pussy flutter. Your stomach twists, loud groaning falling from your lips as your stomach twists. Your hips buck, eyes rolling back as he sucked on your cunt, swallowing loudly as he pulled out his fingers.

He pulled away, sitting up as he pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his cock, hissing as you raised your legs to wrap around his waist. He grunts as he slowly pushes into you, eyes rolling back as he leaned down to hold himself up with his elbows, pulling you in for a kiss. “Fucking hell, I want to see you with my kids so bad,” he groaned, gasping as you pulled him down for a kiss. “Want to see you pregnant over and over again.”

You whined, his hips moving quickly as the bed pounded into the wall, your nails dragging down his back. His cock rammed into your pussy, strong thrusts making your eyes roll back as he pressed his lips to your neck. “You want that honey? Want to be fucked, round and full with my kids?”

You nodded, whining loudly. “Yes! Yes, I do!”

He grunts loudly, slamming into you just to feel your pussy clench along his entire shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as you cum again around him. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, fuck! Four!” You yelled out as he reaches down to rub firm circles into your clit, rutting his hips just a few more times as he came inside you for the first time without protection.

It was an odd feeling, but filling as he groaned loudly, your cunt continued to clench around him to milk him of everything he had. It was warm, and if you could feel sticky-ness inside of you, it would be this. You whimper as he starts to pull out, trying to reach forward to pull him back in before he grabs your legs, pushing them back so your knees were on your shoulders.

“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Gotta make sure this sticks.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use

Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.

He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.

Until he saw the name Munson.

Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”

He read the article with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.

Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.

It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.

Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.

“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.

She was probably right.

But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.

He thought he had, anyway.

He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.

But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.

Did he know what happened?

——

Steve asked Wayne the next morning.

He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.

Perfect opportunity to find out more.

“So. Eddie’s mom.”

Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.

“Does he know how she died?”

“Do you?”

“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”

“Trauma messes with your memory.”

It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”

——

Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.

He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.

But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.

“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”

The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.

Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”

Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.

“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”

“Did he know all this?”

“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”

“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked back at him.

“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”

“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.

They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.

“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in.

“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”

“Is that how you’d introduce me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.

After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.

“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”

“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”

“Because I have to impress her, right?”

“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”

Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”

“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”

Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”

“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”

“That’s a guarantee.”

“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”

“Not a chance, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”

Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”

“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”

“And what would you do?”

“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”

“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“

“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”

Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”

“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.

“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”

“Hopefully you’re in.”

“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”

“Believe it, baby.”

[inbabylontheywept]

how did you get married? how did you recover from the minion halloween and be able to look another human in the eyes? i could never i would wilt like a deflated wacky wavy balloon guy dipped in soy sauce then left in the nevadan summer

i think you're underestimating how tough you are. you probably haven't had a day quite as shit as the minion incident yet, and that's great, but the unfortunate thing i'm gonna tell you is that one day you will have a day that's worse. so much worse. one day, you will wake up, and you'll be going about your business, and you get a call only to learn that someone died.

the first time you get that call, it'll probably be a grandparent. and you'll get one or two, three tops more of those, and you'll think you're getting the hang of things, and then it will be your parents. then after that, and i am so sorry to hit you with this, it will be your siblings, or your spouse, or your friends. each round will feel like it killed you, and it won't be until the next that you realized the one before was a warning shot.

any one of those by itself is going to make the minion incident feel like the highschool shit that it was, and each time that happens, you're going to keep on living. you'll have a few weeks to grieve, but when it's done, you'll still have to go to work, and cook your own meals, and clean your own house. you'll still be alive. and maybe that's all you'll be for a while - alive - but you'll find ways to become more than that. you'll be up to your eyes with grief, and your coworker will stop you one day and just give you a hug, and you'll take it, because for once in your life you won’t be too proud to let someone care. or you'll be in your apartment, going to grab your mail, and your neighbor will be out there, and they'll wave to you a little, and maybe you never talked to them before, but you’ll have your chance to talk to them then. and you'll take it, because fuck, nothing makes you realize how much you have left to lose quite like loss.

i got married because the minion incident didn't destroy me. people don't get destroyed that often. if almost every makes it through burying their parents, then almost everyone could also survive showing up to a bootycall in yellow bodypaint and overalls. and yes, it was embarrassing, but the sun rose the next day, and i got up, and i brushed my teeth, and i went to school, and i cried a little at lunch when i told my academic decathlon friends about it, and they told me it wasn't my fault, and i told them that i knew that, it just sucked anyway. and they got it. and then the day after that was easier. and the day after that, easier still. and occasionally bad things happened, but even afterwards, life carried on. eventually, i graduated highschool. i went to college. i kept meeting interesting and kind people. i met my wife, and she was both, and i couldn't help but fall in love with her.

i got a little head start on seeing the way life goes on after a disaster, but not by much. i'm going to live through worse. you're going to live through worse. and every time the world ends, we're gonna wake up the day after, wash off the emotional vomit, and keep moving forward.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Weasleys Aren't Great Parents...

I know a lot here love to talk about how the Weasleys were so good to take Harry in and all that... But the truth is, the parenting skills of Molly and Arthur Weasley are questionable at best.

I'm not saying they don't love their kids and Harry — they do, and they do so honestly. I'm just here to say they aren't actually a good example of parenting.

Like, when fans talk about the Weasleys what I usually see is either treating them like they are a perfect example of a family or unfair bashing. So, while I definitely believe that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love their kids, this post showcases where their parenting skills are lacking...

So, the Weasleys, to Harry, seem like the perfect example of a happy, loving family. Now, I'm not saying there isn't love there, but the family dynamics we see aren't great, to put it lightly. Harry just has no reference for anything better.

Children Running Away

The first thing I want to mention here is that all Weasley children leave the Burrow and their parents the first chance they get.

Bill goes to work for Gringotts in Egypt.

Charlie goes to tame dragons in Romania.

Percy, well, Percy is a whole can of worms right there. But once his parents shun him for being more successful than his father in the ministry, he doesn't look back.

Fred and George leave Hogwarts in the middle of their seventh year and move out of home then, before their even done with school.

I don't think that's normal. This is what we see in houses where there is mistreatment of children, so they don't want to stay any moment longer than necessary. Because all of this, what all of them did, was running away from home.

Each of these Weasleys was seventeen — maybe eighteen when he chose to leave (sometimes the country). This is running away, even if they still talk to their parents, they did rub away from living under the same roof.

This already suggests to me something unhealthy is going on there.

favoritism

Any child psychologist would tell you one of the worst things a parent could do is pick favorites amongst their children. All children, favored or not, suffer from it.

And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley.... well, they showcase favoritism constantly, here is an example from Order of the Phoenix:

“Get him red and gold to match his badge,” said George, smirking. “Match his what?” said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile. “His badge,” said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.” Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley’s preoccupation about pajamas. “His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re not. . . ?” Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!” “What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?” said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 163)

Molly is so glad to have prefects in the family, that she actually ignores the fact Fred and George aren't prefects and are her kids. George actually calls her out on it, except she isn't actually listening to him l. No, she pushes him aside. This treatment is insane, and I don't blame them for up and leaving the moment they turned seventeen.

This favoritism is seen more, this is from Chamber of Secrets:

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —” All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” “Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred. “YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —” It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. “I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. “Come in and have some breakfast.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 38)

Prefect Percy is better than Fred and George and they should learn from him and be more like him, according to Mrs. Weasley. This sort of comparison between children is really harmful to their development and is frowned upon by most. Definitely by me.

Not to mention how Harry is definitely a favorite of hers, so much so he does not get shouted at for the same crime, but get's food. That is honestly the bare minimum she can do for him considering...

Harry's Abuse

The Weasleys are aware of Harry's abuse. They are made aware of it time and time again, and with all their love for Harry — they do nothing more than give him food when he asks. I don't think I need to explain why this is terrible.

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —” She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. “It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.“They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

George here outright tells her Harry was being starved — this goes ignored. When Harry writes to her to send him food, she sends it, but doesn't ask him why he isn't being fed:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

No, she sent him food but didn't bother doing anything to help a child out of a clearly abusive situation. Not even asking why he isn't getting enough food.

Arthur Weasley isn't any better. He knows just as much as Molly and even met Harry's pleasant relatives:

“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?” “It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 48)

He acts as if the Dursleys are normal. As if a child saying their caretakers wouldn't care he wasn't there isn't cause for alarm. No, Arthur Weasley just thought it impolite and odd, but not enough to actually do something to help Harry. Just annoy Uncle Vernon.

Blaming Kids For Things Not Their Fault

“You?” she said, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy little willow-patterned legs and replacing it in front of her. “Why should I be worried about you?” “When Mum’s next letter finally gets through Umbridge’s screening process,” said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, “I’m going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sent a Howler again.” “But —” “It’ll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,” said Ron darkly. “She’ll say I should’ve stopped them leaving, I should’ve grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something. . . . Yeah, it’ll be all my fault. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 679)

After Fred and George leave Hogwarts, Ron tells Hermione she should worry about him because he would suffer their mother's ire. He speaks about it as if it's a regular occurrence. Like he regularly gets blamed for Feed and George's mishaps when the twins aren't there.

This is incredibly unfair to Ron, Fred, and George. There is no reason Ron should fear his parent's response for something he had no control over.

Conclusions

As I stated above, I don't think Arthur and Molly Weasley are abusive or neglectful or that they don't love their kids. They are far from perfect, loving, and dotting parents I see them sometimes portrayed as. Neither are they as awful as I sometimes see them. Like many characters in this series, they are more complex than that.

[heesdreamer]

YOU MAKE ME

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ struck with insomnia your entire life, you’ve taken to exploring the city restless all night. things change when you meet a tall boy with tired eyes and bruised knuckles

WARNINGS ➩ heeseung is lowkey crazy and obsessed with reader, parental death and abuse and implied violence, sexual scenes and commentary, mental health talk (especially insomnia)

WC ➩ 17k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ (i lied lol part 2 soon) NOOO PART 2 plz don’t request im so serious i rlly love this story and it’s completed it has nothing else to add! im glad you guys enjoy my work enough to want more but when there is no feedback in ur comment and just “need part 2” when i spent so much time writing 13k+ words it makes me feel terrible lol. i rlly hope you love this as much as me (NOT PROOFREAD)

Your mother used to tell you that she thought you were born from a piece of the moon.

When you were old enough to understand her and her strange sayings, she’d tell you stories about how when you were a baby you’d never sleep through a night. She looked mystified as she explained to you the ways in which you’d gain energy every time the sun set, becoming whiny and ornery whenever she’d take you with her to run errands during the day.

She told you how you struggled in school for most of your early years, always being found curled up in your backpack cubby or under the slides at the playground because you hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before.

You always were much more cynical than your mother, less of a dreamer and typically prone to aggravation or grumpy tired mumbles. She’d tell you your connection with the moon was a blessing, a lifelong friend for you and you’d retort back that it was a nuisance.

When your mom died you finally realized what she had meant for the first time. You spent nights awake, like usual, but now they were accompanied by nothing but the sounds of your low sobs and your father drinking himself stupid just below your bedroom. It wasn’t until you cracked open your bedroom window for some fresh winter air did you catch sight of the moon and finally feel it, finally feel the connection you’d always been told you had.

Years had passed now and while you didn’t cry every night anymore, you still rarely found yourself able to sleep through the night.

You’d also turned your back on the moon again now that you were older and still just as restless, sleeping throughout your classes and lacking any social life considering the way you wandered through the halls like a ghost with sunken eyes and dark circles.

It was frustrating to you that nothing seemed to be working, no amount of teas or yoga exercises. You’d gone as far as to take prescribed sleep medication, only working enough to make you more exhausted than you already were yet not putting you to rest like you were longing for.

Years of trying and you’ve mostly given up, accepted your condition and never once considered it the blessing your mother had tried to convince you it was.

Blessings wouldn’t leave your bones aching, they wouldn’t leave you slow blinking trying to understand what your teachers were saying or stumbling holding your lunch tray. Blessings surely wouldn’t have you stood in the middle of a dirty 7/11, clutching three bags of chips and a large slushee while you impatiently waited for the two people in front of you to move along.

You’d realized a few things by being a night owl, only ever interacting with people having the same issue as you or people who worked early enough that you’d pass by them on your way back to your house.

You’d taken to spending your nights awake out in the city, sick of staring at your ceiling or scrolling down the same boring timelines that carried nothing but the same content posted thousands of times with different wordings. So you started to explore at some point during high school, each night pushing yourself to wander further and find something interesting before heading back.

Sometimes you ended up at the river, sitting and watching drunk older men laugh with their friends like they were teenagers, catching the ends of failed dates as they walked home with their heels in their hands.

Other times you sat and drank coffee in the few 24 hour shops scattered around the city, sipping it slowly until it was cold and the added sugar was hardening at the bottom of your paper cup.

Most times however you simply found yourself stood in this exact position, holding your snacks of choice and tapping your foot impatiently while you waited for the drunk college students in front of you to stop joking around with the exhausted cashier and pay for their beers. It wasn’t that late yet, not quite the time of night that got you weird stares for wandering around in your pajamas.

You could hear the cashiers tired voice repeating their total to them, asking if they wanted to pay with cash or card and you sighed softly. You tilted to the side with an exaggerated sway so you could see over their laughing bodies, vaguely meeting eyes with the boy behind the counter before flopping back to your original position.

A heavy sigh was slipping out of your mouth before you even realized it and one of the drunk men turned back to look at you, an eyebrow cocked in offense as he let out a nasty laugh after taking you in.

You were pretty used to that reaction, standing in your plaid pajamas with your favorite bunny slippers and knitted hat. Your eyes were low and heavy with sleep deprivation, an annoyed glint to your expression that seemed to aggravate him further once the glare was set towards him.

“Are we bugging you Ms?” He was asking it in a mockingly sweet tone, clearly antagonizing you due to your impatience. You sighed again and your eyes drifted to the side for a moment in indifference, too exhausted to hold a conversation let alone argue with a grown man who didn’t know how to behave in a public setting.

“Yeah.. a little bit.” You were casually mumbling after a few beats of him and his friend staring at you, realizing now they weren’t going to just let you go without a response.

He was scoffing like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard and you felt a little jolt of your inner alert system when he was taking a step towards you, his much larger frame slightly intimidating on top of the fact he was drunk and not thinking clearly.

He stopped early in his advances however and you were confused for a second before you registered the sound of the cashier clearing his throat, the two men turning back to look at him with an incredulous look. When you’d first gotten a glimpse of him he’d been bent over the counter, his elbows resting against it with a bored expression but now that he was standing up to his full height you faltered a bit at how tall he was.

The two men seemed to be thinking the same thing as you, suddenly hesitant in their childish behavior and awkwardly handing him a wadded up bill before taking their case of beer and staggering out of the convenience store.

“Thanks.” You were muttering and dumping your snacks out onto the counter, awkwardly catching one of the candy bars that bounced off a bag of chips and almost fell back onto the ground.

“No problem.” He was responding back with a small shrug and you glanced at him curiously, scanning his tired eyes down to the work uniform that didn’t fit him properly.

“You’re not Jake.” You were announcing and he faltered in his scanning, eyes widening a touch as he looked down at you. He was wearing a name tag but you came by often enough to know that it wasn’t his own, never having seen him before and growing used to the friendly smile the usual third shifter would give you every time you dragged yourself in.

“Uh.. no. I’m not, yeah you’re right.” He was awkwardly muttering back and you almost felt bad for calling him out so directly so you laughed a bit to ease the tension, just as awkward considering you weren’t used to extended social interaction this late at night. “He had a concert he couldn’t miss.. asked me to take over.”

You were nodding softly, mouth parting in understanding and awkwardly shuffling while the conversation quickly died into a weird silence. The sounds of your slippers against the tiled floor was scratchy and too loud for your taste, making you wince slightly at how embarrassing this whole interaction was.

“Are you getting paid?” You don’t know why you asked him another question, why you were carrying on a conversation when it’d been years since you’d had one randomly like this but you liked the way his big eyes flickered back up to you.

“Yeah of course.” He was breaking out into a wide grin at the mention of it, finishing scanning your snacks and looking at the register for a second like he’d forgotten what to do next. “I’m normally up all night anyways so I don’t mind much.”

This piqued your interest but you kept your face neutral, nodding softly and picking at the peeling leather of your wallet while you waited for him to give you your total. He was looking up at you again before he spoke and his eyes landed on your hat for a second, still smiling softly as he looked at the knitted bunny ears.

You cleared your throat and he stopped staring, stammering out how much it had cost you and you slid a few bills over to him while watching the way he fumbled around trying to get the register to open.

“Well… have a good night then.” You were mumbling to him while grabbing the plastic bags he was handing you over the clear divider, your fingers brushing against his warm knuckles for a second. “Not Jake.”

“Goodnight.” He was casually saying back and you wanted to correct him on his wording and tell him you didn’t sleep much either, tell him you understood filling your nights with mindless task and the dark circles under his big eyes. Instead you just bit the inside of your cheek and turned to leave. “Have fun wandering.”

——

You’d left early the next night, starting your walk around midnight instead of the usual 3am and you hurried down to the bus stop that would take you deep into the city. You pulled your headphones on tight and chewed on your lip as you waited for the stop you were planning to get off at.

When you got there, you were tugging on the stop signal line and standing up before the driver pulled the brakes. You swayed slightly when he came to a complete stop and you thanked him as you hopped off the high step, speed walking towards your destination and adjusting your bunny hat on your head before you passed through the doors.

The loud chime of the stores entrance bell rang uncomfortably loud through your ears and you winced at the volume, ducking behind one of the tall shelves and grabbing a few snacks at random before making your way over to the register.

Jake was there again now, giving you that familiar greeting smile and you couldn’t help but feel a small wave of disappointment. You weren’t sure why you thought the boy from last night would be back again considering he’d clearly told you he was just filling in for his friend but you frowned slightly and mumbled a greeting to the boy in front of you instead.

“You’re here early.” Jake was starting and you almost sighed. He was friendly and you admired how much energy he had but he often tried to engage in conversation with you whenever you came by, despite the annoyed glances you occasionally threw his way. “You almost missed me.”

You picked your head up at this, suddenly more alert and raising an eyebrow towards him in interest. As far as you knew, Jake was the only third shift worker and he must’ve barely started considering how early in the night it still was so he must’ve meant he was leaving before his usual time.

“Who’s going to watch the store then?” You were asking him and you tried to ignore how knowing the smile he was giving you was, laughing slightly at the fact you were suddenly interested in what he had to say for the first time ever.

“My best friend, Heeseung.” He was responding slowly and you faltered slightly, not knowing the boy from yesterday’s name so you didn’t want to get too excited over nothing. “He helped me out last night and said it was more interesting than he expected so he offered again.”

“He offered?” You were speaking before he even finished his last syllable and you flushed with embarrassment at the look he gave you, shuffling awkwardly on your feet and waiting for him to respond now that you confirmed it was the same person.

He didn’t say anything but he gave a soft hum of agreement and continued to swiftly bag your snacks, much more natural and efficient than his friend but you liked the way Heeseung stared at the register like it was an alien object. You were interested in him just from the small conversation you had, although feeling uncomfortable at the emotion considering it wasn’t something you usually felt.

You chalked it down to the fact he reminded you of yourself, not so much in his lazy smiles and casual demeanor but something about the way his tired eyes looked around.

Jake was opening his mouth again to speak and you looked up at him curiously but you both froze at the sound of the entrance bell ringing again, looking over to see the boy in question entering.

He froze when he saw the two of you staring at him, eyes falling to your hat and then down to your face which caused his to flicker with recognition. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, looking even taller now that he wasn’t standing behind the counter.

Heeseung was wearing a large hoodie pulled over his head and you could see the wires of his headphones going down into his shirt, tangled around his wrist that was clutching onto the strap of the backpack he was wearing. It was light looking and you weren’t sure if he had anything inside it or if he was just carrying it to give himself something to hold onto.

“Hey.” Jake was smiling at him and simultaneously handing you your plastic bag full of random snacks, hitting you with the reminder you had no real reason to stay in the store now despite the fact Heeseung had just arrived.

“Um.. thanks.” You were awkwardly muttering and taking it from him, shifting a few steps towards the door but stopping when you realized the tall boy was still standing in front of it and you had no way around him.

He was watching you still with a curious expression and you felt embarrassed suddenly, knowing Jake must have pieced together your reason for coming here so early and now he was watching you clam up and leave before you’d even gotten the chance to speak a word to the boy.

You were just standing there in silence, waiting for him to move and silently praying he would do you didn’t have to awkwardly shuffle around his large frame, when he suddenly was adjusting the backpack on his shoulders and clearing his throat while looking past you towards his friend.

“Change of plans. I’m busy tonight.” He was saying in a low determined voice and you could hear Jake sigh from behind you, your eyes widening slightly in confusion until the other boy was looking back at you with a small smile on his face. “Want to hang out with me?”

It took a few seconds for you to register he was actually asking you, staring up at him with an open mouth and stuttering for a moment before giving up on a verbal answer and nodding your head swiftly. He smiled even more at that and then he was waving goodbye to his friend, turning back around and holding the door open for you so you could quickly scurry out of it.

You weren’t too sure what to do, still feeling too nervous to speak clearly so you paused and waited to see if he would say something first. He didn’t but he lifted an eyebrow and gave you an expectant look, silently telling you that you were in charge of your destination for the night.

The pressure of a decision made you sigh softly and you gave him a weird look that made him chuckle, thinking for a moment before turning on your heel and walking away. He jogged slightly to catch up with you and you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Can I ask where we are going?” He was eventually mumbling, leaning down and towards you slightly so you could hear him at his low volume. Your lip curled up at the fact he was whispering for no reason.

“You don’t trust me?” You were asking him back and your teasing attitude seemed to catch him off guard for a second, raising his hands in mock defense and cocking an eyebrow in challenge.

“I do trust you actually, weirdly.” He paused and you could feel him looking sideways at you. You ignored his gaze and kept facing forward, following the sidewalk that was cutting through the park near the river. “Considering you don’t even know my name.”

You almost replied telling him that you did know his, that you’d been repeating it in your mind since Jake had informed you of it in the store but you figured that would be too forward and instead you just hummed softly. He didn’t ask you for your name, or even offer his and for some reason you had a feeling he already knew it.

Possibly asking Jake about you, an easy answer considering your unusual attire and late night arrival, and that being the reason behind the cashiers knowing smirk when you pushed through the glass door.

“Is this what you normally do?” He was talking again after a few more minutes of silent walking and this time, it was your turn to look at him from the side of your eye. “Walk around?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and you felt one of the bunny ears from your hat fall off your shoulder at the movement. You weren’t sure why you didn’t give him a straight forward answer, knowing perfectly well your usual routine.

It felt strange to be accompanied by somebody even though he wasn’t talking much, you could tell he was thinking and wanting to ask you things and as much as you were intrigued by him it was slightly unsettling you to be around somebody for this long.

You spent most your days isolated, not having anybody to talk to at home considering any attempt of conversation with your father usually ended poorly anyways, eventually giving up altogether unless he was grunting something to you every morning when you wandered back into the house.

At school it was relatively the same, or most times worse. You don’t think the other students necessarily meant to complete ice you out but nobody seemed to know how to talk to you after your mom died, at first being overly compassionate and eager to empathize with you vocally and then eventually fading off into small pitiful smiles when they met your tired eyes in the hallway or eyeing you when you came into class late with messy hair.

Heeseung didn’t seem to be giving you any of these looks, he looked confused by your behavior at times but it was accompanied by small smirks or friendly chuckles.

You once again wondered why he was awake right now, why he seemed like he was used to this setting as much as you and not like he was forcing himself to stay up for the sake of making a new friend. You were curious what he was thinking about and what lead him to ask you to hang out in the first place.

“Have you been to the coffee shop on 44th?” He was suddenly asking and breaking you from your train of thought, his voice still in a low whisper.

“Why are you being quiet?” You ignored his question and raised an eyebrow in his direction, tugging on your sleeve and watching the way he faltered slightly.

“Guess I’m not used to talking to somebody this late.” He was shrugging now and he almost looked embarrassed at your question, making you feel slightly guilty for making him uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that late yet, people were still wandering around from bars and late night dinners and you could hear the squeal of the bus brakes still running. The city was rarely ever dark, even in the parks near the bridge but the mood changed sometime around 4am and you felt like the trees were sleeping. Everything was still awake now however and Heeseung whispering was driving you a bit crazy.

“What about Jake?” You were asking him more now, trying to make conversation so he knew you didn’t mean any harm from your comment.

“Jake’s a freak of nature.” He was relaxing again at the mention of his friend, a smile naturally slipping back onto his face at the familiar topic. “You know he works this shift and still goes to school? He even plays football at Hope.”

The mention of your schools college made you freeze for a second, faltering in your step and causing him to look back at you with concern, turning his body so he could face you now that you were lagging behind him. He raised an eyebrow at you and you gave him a confused look.

“You guys go to Hope?” You were saying it slowly so he heard you clearly and his head cocked like a confused dog.

“I don’t, Jake is older than us.” His use of the word threw you off completely and he must’ve noticed because he let out an awkward laugh at your reaction, scratching his neck in embarrassment. “We’re in the same grade.”

“We like… as in me and you?” You rushed out and he nodded his head, hands coming up in panic when you let out a low groan of guilt.

“It’s okay, don’t worry! I didn’t recognize you at first either, it’s a big class.” He was rambling to try and make you feel better about the fact you didn’t even realize he was your classmate, his comfortable behavior suddenly making more sense. You’d definitely never spoken to him but the fact he’d seen you around such a familiar place would make more sense towards why he was so willingly to walk around with you in the middle of the night.

“I’ve been there since Kindergarten.” You blurted out with wide eyes, exclaiming loudly in pure shock that you’d been so oblivious.

“Me too..” He was awkwardly offering with a wince like he knew it would just make the situation worse that’d you’d been classmates for over a decade.

You raised your sweater covered hands up to your face and groaned loudly, pulling your bunny ears in front of your eyes so you didn’t have to look at his sheepish expression anymore. You could hear him laughing softly at how dramatic you were being and you moved one ear to the side to send him a half glare.

“It’s really okay.” He was laughing out and you could see his soft smile from your one uncovered eye, watching him with a flushed face and growing embarrassment the more amused he became. “It’s not like you’re there much anyways.”

He was saying it casually, like he hadn’t even thought about it before it came out of his mouth but you both froze up at the same time at his accidental admission. You slowly moved your ears to the side and raised an eyebrow at him, leaning your upper half forward slightly and trying not to smile at the fact he was now the one flushing in embarrassment.

“So you notice me?” You were dragging out the words and your lip curled up in amusement, racking through your mind for times you’d seen the tall boy and coming up blank. In your defense, your entire school catalogue section of your brain was completely empty and that included cute boys with giant backpacks.

“I mean… well it’s just like… it’s not like I was stalking you or anything.” He was rambling on and moving his hands around a lot like he was really trying to prove his point, going back to awkwardly scratching at his neck when you gave him a disbelieving look.

“Heeseung.” You cut him off and he paused for a second in surprise, making you realize you’d just said his name without ever asking him for it.

He seemed to relax at that, knowing you also knew more about him than you were previously letting on and his shoulders lowered now that he was less tensed. He looked like he wanted to speak again but you felt embarrassed suddenly and took a few steps forward slowly, waiting for him to get the memo that you wanted to continue on your walk.

The two of you fell back into another spout of silence, awkward at first and then more comfortable as you got deeper into the city. It was more relaxed accompanied by the sounds of people laughing and cars honking their horns, kitchen staff wishing each other goodnight as they left different restaurants and swapped signs over to closed.

You were glancing over at Heeseung after a while and you studied him for a moment while he wasn’t paying attention, his big eyes looking around the city with the same expression you assumed you often had. No matter how many times you came down here, you always felt the exact same.

You always had this longing to capture the moment in some sort of way, giving up on photographs and videos quickly into your new habit considering they simply never were able to fully express how it felt. You tried writing about it, talking about the city always felt awake and how it unsettled you in a way that felt like a friendly challenge and not like your world flipping upside down.

“Where do you go?” You were asking him before you even realized it, watching his side profile as his big eyes opened wide for a second at the sudden sound of your voice and then darted right to look at you.

He seemed to think for a second and then he answered slowly. “I don’t know actually. Just here I guess, I just like to be here I think.”

The two of you watched each other for a few beats, holding the others gaze and you liked the way the neon signs behind you were reflecting off his round dark eyes. It was like a little piece of the city was frozen inside them and you almost said that to him before swallowing it, realizing how creepy it would sound out loud.

You didn’t say much else for the rest of the night, wandering around a bit more before eventually settling at one of the small parks near the center of the main area of downtown. You sat in silence like that, you pulling out your notebook that had few words and many sketches and Heeseung playing with the strings of his headphones as he listened to music.

You could faintly hear it coming from them, loud enough to reach you a few feet away and you considered telling him he was able to play it out loud if he wanted to but for some reason you felt like it was private, leaving him to listen by himself.

When the night was slowly changing into that familiar blue color, the stage right in the center of night and day when everything is coated in the indigo filter, you were standing up off the ground and dusting off your pants. Heeseung was looking up at you due to your sudden movement and you stood over him, offering him a hand so you could pull him up.

It was mainly his own strength put into moving his weight forward considering he was a lot taller than you and you were quite weak due to your lack of sleep, but he seemed to appreciate the friendly gesture and gave you a small smile after he was back on his feet.

“What bus do you take?” He was asking you on your way back to the 7/11 and you felt him looking at the side of your face.

“15.” You answered slowly, your voice softer now as the exhaustion started to seep in. You were suddenly grateful it was a weekend, the social interaction leaving you more tired than normal and hopefully giving you the opportunity to sleep an hour or two. “You?”

“Same, but Jake is bringing me home with him today.” He was mumbling and nodded your head, picking at the skin around your nails and feeling more guilt at the fact you’d never seen him on the bus before either. “Did you want a ride home?”

His question was surprising you and your eyes widened, looking at him and seeing the concern pass over his face at your sudden change of demeanor. You were shaking your head quickly, ears swooshing around your head and you raised a hand to shake it, really emphasizing your denial.

You couldn’t imagine your fathers reaction to you being brought home by a car, especially one that contained two teenage boys in the front seat. It already took him long enough to stop punishing you for leaving at night, eventually giving up on denying you your freedom once you started to pace around the house all night instead.

“Alright, no problem.” He said quickly and you were glad he didn’t push the topic although you could tell he wanted to, a curious look on his features. Heeseung seemed to have a habit of clearly showcasing his emotions and you were grateful considering it made him easier to understand but frustrated when it was a look of pity or sympathy on his face.

You didn’t say anything when he continued to walk with you past the convenience store, walking side by side on the sidewalks even as they thinned out as you slightly left the city area.

He still didn’t speak again even when you both stood together and waited for the bus to arrive, him leaning against the plastic material covering the stops bench and you standing outside of it so the driver didn’t just blow right past you, not expecting somebody out this late.

It was you that finally turned towards him once you caught sight of the bus approaching, tugging on one of your ears awkwardly and shuffling your feet while you waited for it to get closer. You could hear it squealing to a stop, the doors creaking open while he looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m…” His stare was throwing you off and you started to falter in your words while nervously looking behind you towards the driver who was waiting. “I’ll be here tomorrow around the same time so… if you wanted to.. or if like..”

You trailed off with a sigh but he seemed to get the general idea, a small smile on his face as he dipped his head down slightly in a conforming nod, relief washing over you at the fact he hadn’t found your indirect invitation weird or out of place. You raised your hand in a wave goodbye and he returned, watching you as you pulled your headphones over your hat and ears and boarded the bus swiftly, softly thanking the driver for waiting and finding a seat towards the back.

You could see him outside the window as you pulled off, still leaning against the booth and watching the bus as it left until it rounded the corner. You flushed at the fact he had walked you to your stop despite needing to return back to the city area to get a ride from Jake, not even hesitating when you passed by the store earlier.

It was exciting to be interested in somebody or even something at all, rarely feeling too extreme of emotions considering how dull and hazy everything became with your repeated exhausted routine. Not even your father, sprawled on the couch and surrounded by empty beer cans, could damper your mood as you entered your small house.

It took you a long time, hours staring at your ceiling with a half wandering mind but you eventually managed to get a little bit of sleep, thoughts of Heeseung and his wired headphones accompanying you.

——

The routine continued like this for awhile and you slowly got accustomed to it, now expecting to see him every time you boarded the bus and he was already there waiting for you with his large backpack saving you the seat beside him.

Sometimes you didn’t talk, walking in silence for hours or finding a nice place to sit and do your own individual activities side by side. Other nights you struck up small conversation, talking about the city and your favorite places to go and every once in a while delving into deeper categories that slowly chipped away at the uncomfortable feeling that always came along with attempting to trust somebody.

Heeseung was nice to you and you liked that about him as selfish as it sounded. He never expected you to answer his questions and he rarely pried, around the second day he had even started to pull out snacks from his backpack and hand them over to you after he opened them.

It was a bit into meeting now and he was walking you back to the bus stop, large hands tightly holding onto the straps of his backpack like they always were. He had lots of little habits like that and you carefully filed them all away in your memory. Sometimes he boarded the bus with you but others he just walked with you down there before leaning against the booth and waiting for you to round the corner.

Sometimes you wanted to ask him where he lived, he had to be further away from the city than you considering he was always on the bus before you at the start of the night but that would put him at even more of a distance from your school than you were already at.

Speaking of school, you’d yet to see him around the building and you surprised yourself by actually keeping an eye out throughout the day. You were scanning your tired eyes around the cafeteria and turning your dizzy head in classrooms to see if he was present but you’d not caught sight of him yet and you felt weird about asking where he was.

Maybe he didn’t want to be friends outside of the few hours of the night you spent together, time almost nonexistent here. You felt like the world was frozen most nights you spent with him around the city and you figured he must prefer that aspect versus actually interacting with you in the daytime where other people could see.

You were too distracted in your thoughts that you didn’t even realize your brain was auto-piloting and boarding onto the bus before you even checked if he was coming along, going to turn around to see and completely missing the first large step off the ground. You fell forward and you imagined your side would’ve painfully landed directed on the jagged edges of the steps but you didn’t get a chance to find out, suspending in mid air considering Heeseung had jolted forward to grab onto you.

You could feel his hand wrapped around your side, the other placed in the middle of your shoulder blades so he could support your weight without falling forward himself. Your eyes were wide from almost hurting yourself and you flushed bright red at the concerned look on his face, helping you back to a standing position but keeping his hand on your waist even after you were fully stable.

The bus driver was clearing his throat and Heeseung glanced behind him awkwardly like he was originally not meant to get on the bus, but he turned back towards you and took a step onto the same one you were standing on.

It didn’t pass by you that this was the closest you’d ever been to him, normally keeping a few feet between you when you found a place to sit for the night and rarely ever being close enough to bump shoulders while walking side by side. Now, since he was stood on the same small step as you, you were practically pushed up against him while his hand was still gently against your side despite not having a reason to hold onto you anymore.

He was leaning forward, his chest pressing against you more and you awkwardly looked down at his feet instead of focusing on how tall he was at this distance, and you vaguely registered the fact he was paying for both of your bus tickets.

He seemed to catch on to the fact you were out of it a bit and losing focus, his hand pushing into your side slightly to let you know it was time to fully enter the bus and find your seats. You expected him to let you go once you entered the thin aisle but he didn’t and even when he was stood behind you walking towards the back, he kept his hand around your waist like he was guiding you.

It was removed once you took your seats and you found yourself still able to feel it for some reason, the feeling burned into your mind as he awkwardly cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck again.

You glanced over at him and his nervous demeanor, his hands fidgeting with his ripped pants now like he was also still reeling from the feeling of touching you so randomly. His hair was messy like normal but it was getting longer now, falling forward into his eyes so you couldn’t quite see what his expression was. You watched him as he put his headphones in but you leaned forward slightly to confirm that he wasn’t actually playing any music.

“Did you have somewhere to be?” You were asking him softly and then repeating it louder when you realized his headphones might block out some of your volume.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and took the one closest to you out of his ear, wrapping it around the outside instead and thinking for a second before he gave you an answer.

“Not necessarily.” He was mumbling back but sighing softly when you gave him a disbelieving look. “Okay well kind of but I want to get you home first.”

“I barely tripped.” You were rolling your eyes at him being overly concerned but the flush in your face gave you away and he laughed softly.

“Maybe I just wanted to hang out with you a little bit longer.” He was shrugging and turning his head to look at you better, smiling more at the way you squeezed your shoulders together and awkwardly glared forward at the floor.

“We could always hang out in school.” You were offering after a few beats of silence and you immediately regretted it, not sure how it even managed to escape your lips considering you’d already told yourself you weren’t going to question him.

His initial reaction didn’t give anything away to you, face remaining blank like he hadn’t put much thought into it but you noticed his hands starting to pick at the tape wrapped around his headphone wire and you felt guilty for bringing it up. You were about to back track and tell him to forget about it or change the subject but he was humming softly.

“I think that’d be nice.” He was saying it casually but there was a nervous edge to his voice and your mouth was downturned slightly. “Where do you eat lunch at?”

“Near the side doors.” You were answering smoothly although you left out the fact you more so used the free half an hour for a quick nap instead of actually eating. “You?”

“The library.” He was saying it hesitantly like he wasn’t sure if he should lie or not, knowing full well there was a no eating policy in that section of the school and you’d realize he wasn’t actually eating at lunch either. You both paused for a second in heavy silence before you were snorting a laugh.

“So you’re a loser basically?” Your comment was teasing and he visibly relaxed at your reaction, chuckling softly and nudging you with his thin shoulder.

“Sorry to disappoint Ms. Popular.” He was retorting back and you were glad to see the small smile return to his face and stay there now that you’ve both established this change in routine.

You wondered if he’d been thinking about it too, keeping an eye out for you or if he was actively avoiding you throughout the hallways like you’d previously thought. Maybe he figured the same as you, that you wouldn’t want to be suddenly seen with him or you wouldn’t acknowledge him and it would ruin the friendship you were slowly building.

When you got off the bus it was nice to see him still there, trying not to wince at how close the stop was to your house and how if it didn’t pull off immediately he’d see you walk up to the overgrown grass with windows titled off their hinges.

You tried not to think about it and after you gave him a small wave through the window you turned on your heel and kept your face forward, steely in your resolve to not spare him another nervous glance. This time you father didn’t seem to be home and you were grateful for that considering you had a feeling you were absolutely radiating with how much you were thinking about the boy.

It was hard to go to sleep, even more so than normal, with the ghost of his hand pressed again you and the knowledge that tomorrow you now knew where to find him. It was up to the two of you to decide if you used this information or ignored it and you weren’t sure which route he was hoping you’d take.

——

“I thought you’d forgotten about me for a second there.” Heeseung’s low voice was hitting your ears the second you crossed into the library and you let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him.

You were worried for the first half of the day that it would be awkward, that you wouldn’t know what to say to each other and it would ruin everything you’d be enjoying so much, but you knew from the second he spoke that you’d made the right choice in coming to find him.

“I was about to give up.” You scowled at him and placed your bag down on the back of the chair, climbing up and sitting across from him at the high top round table in the back of the library. “You’re hard to track down.. plus the librarian kept glaring at me every time I passed her desk like I was trying to steal her books.”

“She’s probably just used to only seeing me.” He was explaining with a small smirk at your complaining and you frowned at him softly while taking a second to take him in.

You weren’t sure why you expected him to look different during the day time, feeling a bit stupid now that you looked at him and he looked exactly the same. Almost exactly, outside of how much more exhausted he looked now that he was running on even less sleep, his hair was messier than it was around 2am and he was nervously looking around.

Heeseung was always handsome to you, despite the fact you tried to pretend you didn’t think so the first few times you hung out, but you noticed things about him under the school lights that you had missed outside in the near dark.

For one, he had his eyebrow pierced. You’re not exactly sure how you managed to not notice that considering you were currently frozen to your seat as you saw it gleaming against the light when he turned his head to look at you in confusion.

He looked embarrassed at the fact you were staring at him so intensely and he brought a hand up to mess with his bangs, the face jewelry disappearing back behind his hair and showcasing why you failed to see it before. His hand had bandaids on a few of his fingers and you almost asked him about them until he tucked them back into his hoodie sleeves.

“You don’t eat?” He was clearing his throat and asking you in a low tone, leaning forward slightly to ensure that you could hear him.

You were shaking your head softly and then shrugging, almost becoming awkward enough to regret coming. “Foods no good here anyway.”

He watched you for a few seconds and you were curious what he was thinking, if he was making similar observations as you. You were suddenly reminded you couldn’t wear your bunny hat to school and it might be the first time he’s seen you without it, seen how dark your under eyes are and how dry and chapped your lips become this time of year.

You didn’t like that you thought about this, didn’t like that you cared about what he was thinking about your appearance.

“We could go get some food after school.” He was suggesting it with a shrug but his eyes were watching you intensely with a hint of hesitance, almost like he was expecting you to say no.

You felt like your breath caught for a few seconds, holding tightly in your chest and you hoped your eyes didn’t widen too much at his suggestion. He was still watching you but his eyes softened slightly at your surprised expression, amused that you seemed just as nervous as he was about this change of pacing.

“Are you paying?” You were eventually wheezing out after a few seconds, letting the words tumble out at the same time your big gulp of air did.

His smile was familiar, the same one he gave you when he caught you staring at him in the park for a sketch reference, the same one he would offer everytime you’d skip onto the bus and grin once you caught sight of him saving your seat. You thought it looked even better in the sunlight.

——

You tried not to think about how weird it was that you and Heeseung left school together, side by side and bumping into each other while navigating the hoard of students all trying to squeeze out of the doors to escape the building.

You wondered if anybody else thought it was weird, if anyone paid enough attention to you in recent years to wonder who the tall boy next to you was. The boy who was currently snaking a hand down to your side like he had at the bus, gently guiding you through a gap in the crowd so you could get outside faster than it would be to stand and wait.

Your face was flushing bright red but he luckily seemed to focused on getting out of the mass of people to realize, eyebrows furrowed in a stressed out expression.

He didn’t remove his hand even after you’d gotten out of the tight pile of bodies, keeping it there comfortably but you knew by the heavy silence that you both were aware it wasn’t anything normal for him to do. You almost couldn’t tell, almost convinced yourself this was his typical behavior and you’d somehow just not realized it, but when you caught his eye and he quickly looked away with a small pink to his cheeks you knew it wasn’t.

Little things were different during daytime hours but not enough to make your head completely spin, giving you that familiar overwhelmed feeling that left you taking deep breaths in the bathroom stall.

The bus was actually full of people for once, only one seat left in the middle of the aisle and Heeseung hurriedly sat you down on it before it was taken. He was standing above you holding onto the pole near the top of the ceiling and you would’ve felt bad he had to do that so you could sit if it wasn’t for the small glances and grins he was sending down your way every time he caught you staring.

When you reached further into the city, somewhere you didn’t fully recognize but he must’ve considering the was leaning forward towards you and tugging on the stop rope, you both thanked the driver and left the bus.

You tried not to be disappointed when he didn’t hold onto you again, silently cursing yourself for feeling that way anyways and pushing it down. You took your backpack off your shoulders as you walked and held it in front of you, fishing for something inside with an annoyed sigh after a few seconds passed without feeling it.

Eventually the familiar fabric was grazing your fingers and you smiled softly as you pulled out your hat and situated it over your head again, pulling a few pieces of hair out in the front and glancing over at Heeseung who had been watching you.

“Woah Y/N, when’d you get here?” He was mock gasping, a hand coming up to cover his mouth and stumble back on the sidewalk like you had surprised him.

You grumbled at his antics and elbowed him in the side, trying to pretend your heart didn’t pick up in pace when he laughed loudly at your reaction and grabbed onto your jacket so he didn’t go tumbling into the street from your small shove. He didn’t let go for a few seconds even after he was steadied, rubbing the materiel between his fingers before dropping it.

You wondered if he was always this touchy with people or if he had just grown comfortable with you fast considering the strange and slightly intimidate circumstances you’d been hanging out under.

He was walking side by side with you but you were following his lead, still not exactly sure where he was bringing you to. You fell back into a comfortable silence like you always did as you traversed the city and you felt a little bit dizzy due to exhaustion and the bright glare of the sun.

It only worsened when you were rounding a corner, passing by a large building that was originally blocking your view of the next street over, and you caught sight of a familiar back that caused you to freeze in your tracks.

Heeseung took a few steps forward before realizing you weren’t continuing and he turned back to look at you with a concerned expression, approaching you again and standing in front of you. His large frame was blocking your view now but you slowly leaned over to look past him and immediately shot back to hide behind his chest and wince.

“What’s wrong?” He was rushing out and his eyebrows were furrowed with worry, a hand coming up but stopping just short of your arm like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to touch you.

“I-I have to go.” You were rushing out and you felt embarrassed underneath your panic, hands shaking slightly and you swallowed harshly.

He was frowning and turning his body to look behind him and try to see whatever had spooked you, immediately whipping back around due to the fact him moving had allowed you to see the man again, this time facing your direction with a suspicious look on his face. You imagined it was due to the fact Heeseung was just standing in the middle of the sidewalk but your heart started to race so hard it was painful at the chance he had seen you.

“Who is that?” Heeseung was, thankfully, getting the idea slowly and lowering his face as he spoke to you. You didn’t answer immediately and he was bending down so he was closer to your face, his hand finally connecting to your arm and cupping the back of your elbow. “Y/N, who is that?”

“It’s my dad.” You whispered back in a harsh tone and you’re not sure why you said it, never talking about family or each others parents before and never planning to.

Heeseung paused for a second and then his eyes were darkening like he had figured something else out, you felt humiliated knowing he must be piecing together every strange reaction you’ve ever had to the suggestion of being brought home by Jake or for him to walk you to your door.

He was glancing behind him again and a small noise of protest slipped out of your mouth, your hands coming up to land on his chest and scrunch his hoodies fabric up in your hands. He was looking back at you quickly and his eyes softened at the scared expression on your face but could still see anger swimming in his.

You weren’t sure if Heeseung was a violent person, thinking there was no way it was possible for the boy who was as sweet to you as he was unprompted, to ever willingly harm somebody but you’d also never given him any reason to be mean or treat you poorly. You thought about his bandaged hands for a second and then immediately felt guilty for doing so.

“Let me take you home.” He was saying after a few seconds and you shook your head, too overwhelmed to think clearly for a second. “Baby, let me take you home.”

The pet name snapped you out of it and you looked up at him, feeling more and more humiliated by the second at the fact your eyes were watering and you were still anxiously bunching his hoodie in your hands.

“T-the bus is too slow, he’s just now leaving the liquor store but he has a car and by the time we walk back and get on and it makes all the stops it’ll be too late and-“ You were speaking a mile a minute and you felt his hand squeeze your arm before he cut you off.

“I’m parked around the corner.” He rushed out in an attempt to stop you so you could take a breath, freezing and furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you registered what he was saying. He winced slightly at your reaction and a weird feeling passed through your chest. You were raising your hands off of his chest before slamming them back down against him in annoyance, ignoring the small pained sound he made.

“You idiot.” You spat out at him in a harsh whisper, shaking your head and glaring up at his guilty face. “You’ve had a car this entire time?”

He looked sheepish and you suddenly felt very stupid for somehow missing this, and then slightly flattered and embarrassed that he had been riding the bus with you every single day despite being parked in the opposite direction. It made sense now to you why he was sometimes hesitant to board, unlocking the knowledge that he had been riding it all the way back alone after you’d gotten off.

“Not the entire time.” He was trying to explain himself but you could tell he was lying slightly. “It was in the shop the first time we met, that’s why Jake drove me home.”

You sighed and glared at him again but you weren’t actually mad, just slightly upset that he had been inconveniencing himself this much for some reason you didn’t quite understand.

“I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” He was offering an explanation before you even had a chance to ask him and your expression softened at the reasoning, hands flatting out against him in a silent apology for hitting him.

“You’re still an idiot.” You were mumbling but your voice held no malice and he smiled at the fact he was clearly forgiven. Things felt tensioned again now that the conversation died down and you were both suddenly reminded of the fact you were touching each other and standing nearly toe to toe. “I really do have to go.”

“And I really will take you.” He was whispering back with a stressed sincerity and you frowned from the guilt of both making him drive you and not eating together like you had planned.

Heeseung was guiding you back around the buildings corner slowly, backing you up and shuffling forward with you so you didn’t need to step out from behind his chest and risk being seen. You were pouting as you awkwardly walked backwards and it remained on your face even when you were able to face forward like normal and follow him to where he had parked his car.

His car looked pretty much exactly how you figured it would, low to the ground and chipping paint in different sections of it but it was very him and you laughed softly when you remembered how ridiculous it was that he’d had one this entire time.

He seemed embarrassed when you got into the passenger seat, looking into the backseat to check if it was messy and rearranging the different CD’s that were sitting on top of his center console. You moved them over to your lap and started to mess with them while he pulled off the curb.

“Basement, Title Fight,” You were humming softly while flipping through them and reading out the artist titles, ignoring the way he was sending you nervous side glances between looking at the road. “Elliot Smith.. is this what you’re always playing in your headphones?”

“Too cliche?” He was retorting back and you scrunched your nose when you looked up at his side profile, a small smirk playing on his lips at your amusement.

“The fact you even keep CD’s still is kind of cliche.” You were throwing back to him and he glanced at you to smile fully and shake his head, watching the way you were leaned against his car door and casually looking through his stuff for a second before going back to focusing on the road.

“You still like me even though I listen to scratched CD’s and drive a 2002 shit bucket?” He was responding and you both paused.

His wording didn’t miss you but you weren’t sure if it was intentional or not, also unable to tell if he was speaking in a platonic way or if he was genuinely asking you if you liked him romantically. His mouth was parting like he was trying to think of a way to backtrack and you cleared your throat before he could, leaning forward to push a CD into the radios slot.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you let the song play for a beat or two before you were leaning back into his torn leather seats and glancing at him again.

“Yeah.. I still like you.” Your voice was lower than it was before, barely filtering over the sound of the music building up but you knew he managed to catch it considering the way he was biting the inside of his cheek and avoiding looking in your direction for the rest of the ride.

He didn’t need to ask you for the way to your neighborhood considering he’s been riding past it 4 times a day but he glanced at you for help when you entered the street and you leaned forward to point towards your house. Your dads car wasn’t in the driveway and you breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up near the curb.

You didn’t think too much about the state of disarray your home was in this time, for some reason not minding if he saw how messed up things were for you. The feeling had settled into your stomach that he wouldn’t care, that he wasn’t going to give you a sorry look or treat you differently.

He was surprising you by opening his door before you’d gotten out and you watched him round the hood with confusion, flushing when he came over to your side to open yours for you and hold it while you scrambled out. You leaned against the door once he had closed it behind you and he stood in front of you like he had on the sidewalk, his dirty sneakers pressing against the toe of yours.

“So…” You were dragging out the word and trailing off nervously, looking up at him through your eyelashes and thinking about how cute he looked peering down at you.

“So.” His lips were curling up in a smirk at your lack of words and you frowned at the expression, reaching up to pinch at his arm and keep it there when he let out a low chuckle. His hand was coming up to touch your bunny hat and you laughed softly at the way he pushed it behind your shoulder, almost like it was a piece of your hair.

“We shouldn’t be talking here.” You told him in a low voice, not wanting to speak any louder considering how close his face was getting to yours. “My dad would kill me if he saw you.”

“Right.” He was nodding but he wasn’t taking a step back or making any move that indicated he was going to leave, just watching you and you could feel his arm tense underneath your touch. “Do you want me to go?”

You were shaking your head swiftly although you knew he needed to, you liked his company and you found yourself missing him every time you were away for too long. You somehow managed to have fun today despite the fact you’d almost had a panic attack upon seeing your dad and how awkward it had felt to search for him in the school.

“I should go.” He was sighing even though you had said you didn’t want him to, thinking logically despite obviously also not wanting to leave. He was leaning forward again and for a second you could feel his chest pushed up against yours before he swayed back like he hadn’t done it.

Your heart felt heavy at the fact he was going to leave you there, in such a rotten place that left you restless and miserable, but you were slightly humiliated by the large frown on your face. Before you could think about it, in an attempt to hide your expression, you were pulling him forward by his hoodie sleeve and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

He hesitated for a few seconds, just from the surprise of the contact, and then he was slowly wrapping his long arms completely around you and keeping you pulled tightly to his chest. You could feel him take a deep breath, surrounded by his warmth and burying your face into the soft fabric of his oversized hoodie, listening to his heart beat increase slightly when you squeezed him for a second.

You were pulling back after a few seconds, leaning into the car again and you knew your face must’ve been flushed red with a dazed look in your eyes considering the way he faltered and smiled sheepishly at you.

“Well.. I have to go.” You were rushing out to him and he nodded, taking a step back so you were able to walk away without having to push past his large frame.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” His voice was lower than normal and carrying a slight rasp that made something flip around in your gut, trying not to look at him as you quickly waved and scurried away up your front path and into the doorway.

You stood there, back pressed against your front door now that it was closed, and took deep breaths to try and calm yourself down as you listened to his car pull off. A smile was building itself up on your face despite being slightly embarrassed over your bold move and you felt like a cloud of giddiness was following you around.

“So that’s what you sneak off to do every night?” Your entire body froze up in shock and you immediately stopped in place, bones going rigid and blood running cold at the sound of your fathers slurred voice coming from the living room.

Any sense or happiness or calm Heeseung had brought you was immediately disappearing and replaced with terror at the realization he was home, and had clearly seen you through the window before you came inside. You were stuck in silence and you could feel the dark tension radiating off of him although you couldn’t even see him yet.

“You’re out there embarrassing me, making a mess of our name.” He was hissing and you watched him rise from his arm chair and come out of the shadows like a fairytale monster, cowering in on yourself like you were a little girl again. “Whoring around with that delinquent.”

“N-no dad, I promise it isn’t like that I just-“ He was cutting you and your stutters off, slamming his hand down against the wall near your head and you closed your eyes in a wince, listening to the way the framed photos rattled on the wall.

A few seconds passed and you were holding your breath, waiting for him to continue to insult you and tell you what you had done wrong but when the tension continued to grow you realized he was more angry than you thought. You felt your hands hit the floor before you felt the pain in your cheek, not even realizing he had hit you for a few seconds because of the shock.

He’d hit you before but it was rare in recent years, not wanting to risk you showing up to school with a black eye or bruised cheek.

Your hand was coming up to cup the side of your face, shaking against your skin and feeling how hot and swollen it already was from his large calloused palm. You didn’t want to look at him and see his sneering face, instead staring forward at the way your bunny hat had flown off on impact and landed a few feet away on the floor.

“No more going out at night.” He was spitting the words down at you, curled into a ball against the wall on the floor and willingly away the pain under your palm. “I’ll put a padlock on your door if I have to.”

With that, he was staggering back into the darkness of the living room and you could hear the groan of the armchair under his weight. You sat there for a few more seconds, frozen and making sure it was clear for you to move before you were scurrying up the stairs and grabbing your hat as you passed by.

When you got to your room you threw it into the corner and collapsed onto your bed in a fit of sobs, burying your face deep into your pillow and crying so hard you thought you might just explode.

You felt even worse for the reason you were crying, not because you’d gotten caught or punished and not because your father was upset with you. You cried over the fear of not being able to see Heeseung anymore, the idea of never being able to safely return to the city at night causing you such distress you continued to sob until your throat was sore and your chest ached.

The sun was setting eventually and your room was darkening, never having the light switch turned on and just letting the night take over every single day, but you failed to notice considering how burrowed under the covers in your own misery you were.

You didn’t mean to care about somebody this deeply, having sworn against it after your mother passed and you were left with a shell of a man, your father becoming half the person he was with grief and never bothering to heal himself for your sake. You’d spent recent years tiptoeing around the house and trying to show as little evidence as possible that you existed, part of the reason he didn’t fully mind you disappearing at night or sleeping all day.

You felt stupid but getting caught with Heeseung after so narrowly escaping your father in the city, completely letting your guard down and being foolish because of your feelings.

But the other part of you didn’t care, you deserved to be giddy and act stupid because you liked somebody and his reaction wasn’t your fault.

Thinking of Heeseung made you remember he’d probably be waiting for you tonight and you started to cry harder again. You were worried he’d over think about your intimacy and small confession today and mistake you not showing up to the bus stop as you rejecting him, retreating back into yourself and leaving him alone like he had been before your night time meetings.

You must’ve dozed off from crying and the stress of the day, only waking up with dry skin and swollen eyes when you started to register a faint repeated noise.

You were sitting up with a puffy pout and looking around in a dazed confusion, at first because you couldn’t identify it and then even more so because you realized it was coming from your window. You staggered out of bed to open it and stop the noise and you let out a gasp, ducking and just barely missing being hit by a small stone that flew into your room.

“Fuck.” A voice down below was whispering and you glanced down to see Heeseung stood at the side of your house with his hoodie pulled up over his head. “Did I hit you? I’m sorry.”

You felt panic grow in your chest at the sight of him although you were happy to see that you had a chance to explain what had happened, glancing behind you in fear before turning again to glare at him from the second floor.

“You can’t be here.” You hissed out and he gave you a guilty look, like he knew you were going to say that but couldn’t help himself anyways. You let out a small sigh and you eyes softened at his expression. “I told you he was going to kill me.”

You didn’t need to say it for him to understand that your dad must’ve been home and you saw his face darken again like it had earlier, feeling thankful that you were too high up and it was too dark for him to see the bruise that must have been forming on your face now.

“Is he awake?” He was whispering back after a few seconds and you paused at his unexpected question.

He didn’t say anything when you held up a finger to indicate you’d be back, tiptoeing back to the other side of your room and cracking open the door. You held your breath so you could hear every noise clearly and you waited until the sound of his snores filtered up the stairs to you, confirming he had drank himself unconscious again and was out for the night. You still didn’t want to risk sneaking out and having him wake up and you walked back to your window with a heavy heart.

“He’s out but-“ You were starting to explain you couldn’t come along when Heeseung was nodding and walking towards the front of your house, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you called his name softly. He turned back to look at you and you raised your hands in bewilderment. “What are you doing?”

“Let me in.” He whisper yelled back and gave you a look like it was an obvious thing for you to do, smiling slightly when your astonished face only deepened.

You were groaning when he disappeared around the side of the house and you left your room before you had a chance to think about it more, sneaking down the stairs as silently as possibly and trying not to let out a breath when you passed by the entrance to the living room.

It was strange to see Heeseung on your porch when you cracked open the front door, even stranger when he took a step inside your hallway and you took him in against the familiar setting. You hadn’t had somebody inside your house in years and you were thankful that he kept his gaze tightly on you and didn’t look around at the mess.

You brought a finger to your lips and indicated towards the living room where your dad was, a loud snore coming from him at that exact moment and causing you to jump where you stood. Heeseung was bringing a hand up to your arm in an attempt to calm you and he nodded in understanding that he needed to keep quiet.

When you took a step on the first stair you winced and glanced back at him, knowing his weight and tall frame would make it groan louder than normal.

Still, you took his hand in yours and let it hang behind you as you gently led him up the old wood and into the hallway that would lead to your bedroom. He still didn’t speak once you entered it and for a second you were worried he would ask you to turn the lights on, thankful when he finally took a deep breath and glanced around at your belongings.

“So this is where she returns to.” He was muttering under his breath and you felt a little embarrassed as he took in your room.

Not as embarrassed as you felt when he was looking back at you intensely, you figured he could see you better now that you were closer and illuminated by the moonlight shining in from your window but you knew you were correct when his eyes were hardening again suddenly. You winced slightly when his hands were coming up to cup your face, the right one just hovering and not connecting with the bruised and swollen skin.

“This was him?” He was whispering, his eyes filtering up to stare into yours and your stomach turned at how serious he sounded. You hadn’t seen him have this look in his eye before and it put you slightly on edge.

You were hesitantly nodding your head and you knew your eyes must have started watering judging by the fact his face softened and he gently caressed your uninjured cheek, shaking his head and bringing you over to sit down on your bed.

“I’m sorry.” He was whispering to you and leaning forward to connect your foreheads, watching you with a hurt look. It was reminiscent of the pitiful glance so many people have given you throughout your life but you knew it was different, he was different.

“It’s not your fault.” You were telling him and you truly meant it, your hand coming up to rest on his wrist and squeeze it softly.

“It is though. I should’ve dropped you off up the street where the bus stops, it was stupid.” He was muttering and you wanted to remind him that you’d pointed out your house and you’d been the one to tell him to stay, but you weren’t sure it was going to make much of a difference.

You thought about the fact he was inside of your house right now, only a few hours after you’d gotten punished for even being seen with him and you snorted a teary laugh at the irony of calling such a small act, such as earlier stupid.

“You make me stupid.” You were telling him and he smiled softly at your joking tone, knowing that you were completely serious.

“You scared me when you didn’t show up.” He was saying back and his tone was serious again, brushing back your hair that was normally hidden under your knitted hat. “I was about to tear the city apart looking for you before I thought about coming here first.”

You laughed slightly at the idea of somebody as kind as Heeseung raging through the city in search of you, pressing your head harder against his before leaning back a bit so you could take a deep breath and shake your head at him.

“You’re lucky I woke up before him.” Your tone was light and teasing but you both understood the heavy truth in the statement, his face dropping again.

He had failed to take you literally when you exclaimed about your father killing you but you didn’t blame him, not liking the guilt that coated his face again as he mirrored your deep breath.

“You couldn’t have known.” You were telling him in a gentle voice but he was still not looking at you, only picking up his head when your hand was brushing through his bangs. “Heeseung, it’s not your fault.”

He was nodding softly and chewing on his lip but you had a feeling he was only agreeing to make you feel better, still having that dark guilty look on his face. You sighed softly and glanced behind you at your small bed, scooting back a few inches before looking at him again.

He was giving you a soft and tired smile, clearly understanding what you were insinuating and you tried to not throw up from nerves when you were both moving around so you could lay down on your bed together. You’d been experiencing the most intimacy you’d had since you were a kid with him and your stomach was tight with anxiety.

Heeseung didn’t seem to think much of it, flopping back against your pillows and sucking in a deep relieved sigh. His one knee was bent upwards towards your ceiling and his left arm was sprawled across the rest of the bed, leaving you no choice but to lay on top of it. He was pulling you forward slightly by your shoulders so you could rest your head on his chest and you were slightly relieved to hear how fast it was beating, despite his calm demeanor.

“How’d we get here.” You were whispering after a bit of silence and you could feel his laughter before you heard it, his warm chest rumbling slightly with the sound

“I thought you looked cute standing up to two drunk assholes.” He mumbled back and you pinched his side slightly, draping your arm across his stomach. “You should’ve seen Jake’s face when I asked about you the next morning.”

“Probably the same expression he had when I ran into the store four hours early.” You felt embarrassed to be admitting it but you liked the way it made him laugh again, gently rubbing your shoulder over the shared fact you both had been interested in each other from the start.

You fell into silence again and after a moment you picked your head up again to look at him closer, still pressed against his side but rolling onto your stomach slightly so you could study his face. He was watching you with a curious expression and your hand come up to brush his bangs back, revealing his eyebrow piercing to you again.

He didn’t say anything when you pressed against it, rolling one of the balls between your fingers for a few seconds before rubbing along his eyebrow bone until you hit the bump of metal, but his eyes darkened slightly at your fascination and you faintly felt his hand slip down to your side and squeeze it.

“He called you a delinquent.” You were whispering to him with a small smirk, raising an eyebrow as you recounted what your father had said about him. “He’d probably lose his mind if he came in here right now.”

Heeseung didn’t seem to share your amusement about the subject considering how hard his face was as you talked about it, only his eyes staying soft as he looked over your features from such a close distance.

“I’d kill him.” He was mumbling back and you snickered for a second before realizing he wasn’t laughing, his face serious as he watched you for your reaction to what he was saying. You frowned slightly and laid your hands down on his chest, rubbing it for a second before shaking your head.

“Don’t say that.” You were muttering under your breath, following it with an awkward laugh at the sudden tension in the air.

“I’m serious.” He was saying back immediately and you looked back up at his eyes, frowning deeper since you knew he was telling the truth. A part of you felt strangely prideful about it, your stomach lighting up at the fact he was so protective over you and willingly to interfere if your father busted through the door.

The other part of you was slightly concerned with his sudden demeanor, only catching glimpses of it before and brushing it off considering how gentle and lighthearted he always was with you. You wondered if it was a good time to ask him about the bandages around his hands but you decided against it.

“Then what?” You surprised yourself by humoring his hypothetical situation for a second, watching the way his eyebrows jumped in surprise. “What happens after?”

“You can come with me.” He was saying it swiftly like it was something he’d considered before, eyes remaining serious despite the fact he was noticeably being more careful with his words.

You hummed softly at him, your hand moving from his chest to trail up his neck for a second before coming back to rest again. You didn’t think anything of the movement, just absentmindedly touching him and being fascinated by the feeling of somebody else’s skin other than yours, but you could tell by the way his eyes darkened that you had caught his attention.

“Would you come with me?” He was asking in a low voice, eyes tired and lazy as he peered down at you but very much focused in on your expression as he waited for your response.

You were watching him in return and you were sure he could feel your heart beating against his arm, rolling back around so you were laying on your side again and cuddled up against his side instead of laying on your stomach and directly facing him. You knew your face must’ve been flushed by now and it continued to redden as you thought of a response.

“Of course I would.” You mumbled back and it slightly scared you how much you found yourself meaning the words.

Now it was his turn to him, low and rumbling in his chest against the side of your face. You scooted closer to him instinctively and you felt his hand gently squeeze against your side when he realized you were moving again, your shirt riding up slightly as you shifted so now his skin was pressed against yours.

You were glancing up at him at the feeling of him touching you and you awkwardly looked away when you realized he was already staring, a hazy look in his dark eyes. Heeseung’s demeanor felt different tonight, or maybe it was just the intimate setting.

“C’mere.” He was rasping out the word and the syllables were slurring together, your heartbeat so heavy and loud that you almost didn’t hear him for a few seconds. You scooted up further on his chest so you could look at him, your upper half lifted slightly so your face was hovering over his and he could bring a hand up to cup your uninjured cheek again.

“We can run away together.” He was muttering now that you were close to each others faces again, his big hand nearly covering the entire side of yours and you smiled softly at his statement. He looked slightly serious still but you saw the corner of his lip quirk up and you ducked your head in embarrassment. “I’d take care of you.”

“Oh, would you now?” Your voice was teasing and you raised your eyebrows at him, biting your lip to try and stop the big smile on your face from spreading. You let your arms shift forward again to rest on his chest and you could feel his collarbones under your palm.

He was nodding but not speaking again, watching you intensely and you felt your smile drop slightly at the look on his face. You’d been with a boy before, not all the way and nothing serious but you wouldn’t consider yourself necessarily unexperienced. Still, you’d never felt so tensioned and attracted to somebody before like you did with Heeseung and he hadn’t even tried to kiss you before.

His demeanor, confident but not ever cocky and sometimes sheepish like he acted on impulse, was the most attractive part of him to you and being in such close proximity didn’t help.

“Could you take care of me now?” You weren’t sure what pushed you to whisper the words out to him, hesitant and slow but being said nonetheless and you watch his eyes flash with something unfamiliar for a moment.

Then Heeseung was leaning forward off your pillows, his hand that was cupping your face being used to bring you forward so you could meet him halfway into a slow kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel his heart beating underneath your chest as you scooted forward more to completely lay on top of him and kiss him deeper.

You were overwhelmed by how perfect it felt to be kissing him, how warm and familiar the feeling of him underneath you was and you sucked in a small breath when he pulled back for a second before surging forward again to kiss him more.

If he was surprised by this he didn’t show it, his hand pushing up more so your shirt would ride up on your stomach and he could feel more of your side under his hand. You knew he felt the shiver wrack through you, the goosebumps on your skin at the feeling of the callousness of his and he chuckled softly into the kiss that was getting heavier with every passing second.

You could feel Heeseung biting down on your lip, almost painfully, and you were reminded of that dark expression he sometimes got. He was immediately licking over the skin he had bitten, soothing it out with his tongue and you made an embarrassing noise when he was suddenly slipping it into your mouth.

“Calm down.” He was pulling back a few centimeters to whisper to you, his voice breathy and carrying a small chuckle as he teased you for your reaction.

“I can’t.” You responded honestly, shaking your head softly and leaning in again to peck his lips quickly. Kissing him was addicting and you felt like your head was spinning from the way he was gently rubbing up and down your side so slowly.

He was laughing loudly at your response and your heart clenched affectionately at the sound, immediately followed by the reminder he wasn’t supposed to be here. You glanced over at your door nervously and when you looked back at him again he was frowning and following your line of vision, seemingly also snapping back to reality.

“I should probably go.” He was muttering and your stomach dropped painfully although you knew he was right, it wasn’t smart to get in trouble more.

“I won’t be able to come out at night for awhile.” You were telling him and your voice sounded saddened and panicked, bunching up his hoodie in your fist again like you had earlier when your anxiety picked up.

“Doesn’t matter.” He was shaking his head and petting your hair softly, raising his eyebrows to really exaggerate the fact that he meant what he was saying. “Find me at school tomorrow and we can figure something out okay? He can’t stop me from seeing you.”

You watched him in silence for a few seconds before you were leaning in to kiss him harshly again, completely drinking him in and savoring the feeling of him pressed against you in case it was the last time you got to have him like this. His hands were sliding back into your hair, keeping you tight into the kiss and moving against you just as desperately.

You felt overwhelmed at his sincere words, never having somebody so adamant on being around you, being so protective over you that he was willingly to risk his own safety just to have a conversation with you.

“You’re crazy.” You were gasping out when you pulled back for air, laughing at the way he was pressing more swift kisses against your lips as you tried to talk.

“You make me crazy.” He was slightly altering and repeating the phrase you had said to him earlier, a smile coming back onto his face now that you clearly felt better about the situation.

It took you a while to get off of him, even longer for you to actually leave your room considering the way he kept shaking his hands around your waist to pull you back in to kiss again. At one point he had you pressed against your bedroom door and you tried not to think how tensioned it felt to kiss standing up like this, letting him lean you against the old wood and explore your mouth with a heavy sense of longing and desire.

You were eventually take control of the never ending situation and pushing him out of your door with a final kiss, watching him smile at you and walk slowly down your stairs. He had suggested you stay up in your room in case the door closing woke up your father and he came looking for you, better to find you upstairs versus suspiciously in the front hallway.

You followed Heeseung’s frame, craning your neck outside the window to be able to see parts of your front lawn, and watching as he tugged his hoodie back over his head and walked a few houses down to where he had parked his car.

He was looking back at your window before he got in and the two of you watched each other for a few beats before you were raising your hand in a shy wave, smiling at the way he returned it before getting inside his car and pulling off slowly.

——

You were getting stares as you rushed through the school halls, your peers not used to seeing you so alert at all throughout the day but especially so early in the morning. You’d only slept for an hour or two but you felt energized at the idea of seeing Heeseung again as you searched for him.

The search stopped short when you were suddenly smacking into somebody rounding the corner, clearly not expecting to encounter somebody moving at the speed you were.

You both flew back from the impact and you landed on your butt a bit away from the boy, glancing up swiftly to see it was somebody you recognized, a friend from middle school who had slowly stopped talking to you after your mother died.

“Shit, I’m sorry Sunoo.” You were stuttering slightly and you suddenly remembered that conversation didn’t come easily to you, forgetting this fact considering you only ever spoke to Heeseung. “I was just-“

“Looking for Lee Heeseung?” He was cutting you off and you paused in your explanation to stare at him, his tone more judging than you remember ever hearing it. “What are you doing hanging around with him Y/N?”

He was standing back to his full height and offering you a hand but after faltering for a few seconds you paused, scoffing under your breath and standing without taking it. Once you were off the ground you were glaring at him, not liking the heavy glance he was sending your way.

“What does it matter to you?” You normally wouldn’t be so confrontational but it upset you how concerned he seemed to be despite completely ditching you alongside the rest of your friend group while you were grieving.

He had no place to judge you or who you decided to hang out with, although it confused you how worried he seemed to be about Heeseung. You weren’t sure how he even knew about the boy considering you didn’t recall ever seeing him around school or your old friends before your run in at the convenience store.

“He’s dangerous Y/N.” He was spitting the words at you but you could tell you weren’t the reason for his anger, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked at you like he was confused if you truly didn’t understand the reason for his worry.

“What are you talking about?” You were looking at him in bewilderment and you felt your heart start to beat slightly at the fact he was clearly implying something had happened with the boy you’d spent so much time with recently. You were suddenly reminded that you didn’t know much about him, never talking about family life or what he did outside of being with you.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sunoo was sighing and you were confused at his sudden dismissal until you realized his eyes were going past your shoulder now, turning your head and seeing the boy in question standing a few feet away and watching the two of you interact.

Heeseung didn’t look dangerous to you, especially in the way he was clutching the straps of his backpack and carrying a nervous expression. His eyes softened slightly when he saw you but he must’ve registered the worried look on your face because he was suddenly turning in place and going back down the hallway the way he came.

You sighed when he pushed out the side doors, turning back to glare at Sunoo quickly before hurriedly following after the tall boy and rushing back down past the lockers.

“Heeseung.” You were calling his name once you pushed through the double doors, the cold morning air hitting your face swiftly and you winced a bit. “Hee, stop.”

He paused at the sound of your voice and you saw him suck in a reluctant breath before he was turning around to face you. You caught up to him quickly and stopped a few inches in front of him, reaching up to grab his hoodie sleeve and trying not to be offended when he flinched away from your touch.

“What happened?” You were questioning him with slightly widened eyes, looking up at him and trying to read what his face was expressing. “Why are you running away from me?”

“What did he say to you?” His voice was hardened and he was staring daggers down at you, your face crumbling at the harsh expression that you’d never seen directed your way before.

“Nothing, he said nothing.” You were shaking your head quickly and he let out a disbelieving scoff, looking away from you and clenching his jaw in agitation. “Hee, I’m serious. He didn’t say anything, a bunch of none sense I didn’t even understand.”

He was glancing down at you again like he was trying to see if you were telling the truth or not, being met with your big wide eyes and sighing softly in guilt for being so quick to anger. His hand was coming up to touch your face and you leaned into it even though you were still feeling confused over what was happening.

You didn’t say anything when he was reaching down to grab your hand gently, leading you with him out towards the parking lot where you spotted his car parked near the back. You frowned softly behind his back but got into the passenger seat anyways and watched as he started it up but didn’t pull off.

The heat blaring created a small rattling noise and you could hear the song you’d put on before still playing faintly, flushing a bit at the realization he hadn’t changed the CD and was just letting it play on repeat.

“Are you scared of me?” He was suddenly asking and you glanced over at him from the passenger seat, seeing the way he was staring down at his hands as he picked at the skin around his fingers. His legs were spread so his knee was pressing against the middle console and you reached over to place your hand on it gently.

“Of course I’m not.” You were whispering back to him and shifting your body so you could completely face him, your eyes following along his side profile and frowning at how defeated he looked.

“Even if I told you I did something bad?” He was finally glancing at you and you felt sick at how vulnerable his eyes looked, shifting nervously over your face and you hoped your expression didn’t convey how nervous you suddenly felt. “That I hurt somebody really bad?”

You were watching him in silence and it felt like the air from the car got sucked out with his words, hinting towards something darker than you’d expected him to admit. You thought back to the expression he sometimes carried, the way he spoke about your father so casually and the worry on Sunoo’s face. You watched him while thinking of this and you thought about all the other things to.

How he was always so gentle and kind with you, warm and comforting and never doing anything to make you feel worried despite most your time with him being spent alone and late at night. You didn’t know every detail about his life but that didn’t make him seem dangerous to you, he felt familiar and safe and you instinctively squeezed his knee.

“Did they deserve it?” You were finally croaking out, settling on a response that you felt properly conveyed your stance on what he was saying.

You’d thought from the moment you met him that Heeseung was similar to you and you knew the reasons you couldn’t sleep, the demons that kept you up all night restless. You tried to imagine what his looked like and you figured if you were bigger and braver, maybe you’d tried to hurt yours back too.

He wasn’t saying anything for a few seconds, just looking at you like he hadn’t expected that response and you knew immediately it had been the right thing to say. His face was crumbling and he was biting his lip to stop it from trembling, ducking his head forward to nod as an answer to your question.

You were leaning forward over the middle console to pull him in for a hug, not caring about the way the plastic pressed into your stomach uncomfortably or the burn your arms felt from stretching so far to embrace him. He’d help you more than once, brought you back from a dangerous place and a low state of mind and your heart tugged at the sight of him showing that same vulnerability now.

“It’s not your fault.” You were whispering into his hoodie and his arms were snaking around your middle, a small surprised noise slipping from your mouth when he was tugging you over the console and situating you in his lap. He was burying his head deep into your neck and your hand was coming up to rest on the back of his head, his hoodie fabric under your palm.

You didn’t need to hear the full story, you didn’t need for him to painfully recount the details or what had happened for him to do something so drastic and you didn’t need to know who.

Him softly crying into your neck and clutching onto you like a scared child was all you needed to believe him, to understand that whatever rumor or perspective others such as Sunoo had, was wrong.

He was picking his head up to look at you and your heart broke at his red face, tears streaming down his cheeks and a frustration expression coating his features like he was mad at himself for showcasing how upset he was. He was suddenly pressed against you in a kiss and you hesitated for a second in surprise before kissing him back.

You were pushing his hoodie off his head so you could put your hands through his shaggy hair, pulling him tighter against you and feeling the way his wet face was pressing onto yours.

“You can’t leave me.” He was gasping into your mouth and his hands were shakily coming up to cup your face, tilting your head softly and humming into the kiss when you were licking into his mouth and leaning forward so his back was pressed against the car door.

Heeseung was moving a hand down towards your back and you could feel him continuously tugging you forward into him, your hip bone pressing against his stomach as you both found comfort in each others touch. You let him do this for a few seconds longer before you were pulling back a bit to address what he had said.

“I’m not going to leave.” You were gasping as you said it, still trying to catch your breath and he was shaking his head before tugging you forward again, a small noise slipping from your mouth at the feeling of him dragging you up further into his thigh.

“I’m serious.” He was still speaking into your mouth and you pulled back further to look at him, the dark expression back in his eyes now as he watched you. “I’d go crazy if you left.”

It slightly unsettled you how serious he sounded, how he really stressed the words like they were the most important in the world. His hands were still holding onto you tightly like he was terrified you’d slip away if he let up even a little bit and your eyes bounced around his face for a few seconds before you were nodding.

“We can be crazy together.”

“You can’t leave me.” He was gasping into your mouth and his hands were shakily coming up to cup your face, tilting your head softly and humming into the kiss when you were licking into his mouth and leaning forward so his back was pressed against the car door.

Heeseung was moving a hand down towards your back and you could feel him continuously tugging you forward into him, your hip bone pressing against his stomach as you both found comfort in each others touch. You let him do this for a few seconds longer before you were pulling back a bit to address what he had said.

“I’m not going to leave.” You were gasping as you said it, still trying to catch your breath and he was shaking his head before tugging you forward again, a small noise slipping from your mouth at the feeling of him dragging you up further into his thigh.

“I’m serious.” He was still speaking into your mouth and you pulled back further to look at him, the dark expression back in his eyes now as he watched you. “I’d go crazy if you left.”

It slightly unsettled you how serious he sounded, how he really stressed the words like they were the most important in the world. His hands were still holding onto you tightly like he was terrified you’d slip away if he let up even a little bit and your eyes bounced around his face for a few seconds before you were nodding.

“We can be crazy together.”

[thoughtidtry]

Dress pt.1 - LN

SUMMARY: Lando's best friend can't keep pretending he's not her everything. Not after missing seeing him in person for so long. PAIRING: Lando Norris X LongDistanceBestfriendfem!reader A/N: Inspired by Lando's race win and song Dress by Taylor Swift. First time publishing my fanfics so I’d love to hear what you think! Almost 2K..... I'll do a pt.2 cause I still have more thoughts on Lando with this song. Part: 1 2 3

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"Our secret moments in a crowded room. They got no idea about me and you"

Lando couldn't stop smiling at his phone in the paddock, not when you were the one texting him. All the drivers knew about his best friend, who they never got to meet.

"She's a busy person"

He would declare anytime they teased him about meeting you or asked if you were coming to a race. It wasn't that he didn't want you to come or that he didn't want you to meet the other drivers, more he didn't want to share your time. He wasn't lying to them per se you were busy and had moved to America for university as soon as you both had graduated secondary school. It didn't matter he had never actually invited you to a race.

"I'm spilling wine in the bathtub. You kiss my face and we're both drunk"

He could remember the night or well day you left like it was yesterday. The night before your flight, he had stayed over to spend as much time with you as possible. The giggles you made sneaking back into your room after your parents had gone to bed were almost as intoxicating as the wine you had brought back. You both stayed up drinking and reminiscing over the years you had spent together.

Somehow you had both ended up in the bathroom attached to your room. Too drunk to sit let alone stand, you had made yourself comfortable in the bathtub while he was seated beside you leaning up against it. He doesn't remember what was said or how it happened, but he will never forget how soft your lips felt against his or how you sighed after the kiss with a dopey grin as if a weight had been lifted off your chest.

The next morning he woke up in your bed but you were nowhere to be seen. A note on the bedside table along with some pain meds was all that was left.

Tried to wake you to say bye before my flight, but you wouldn't wake up. I don't know how much we drank but I've got a killer headache and can't remember anything so thanks for that. Text me when you wake! Love, Y/N

You had always kept in contact but he never would tell you what happened that night. He didn't want to lose you even if that kiss would haunt him every time he closed his eyes. You managed the time difference well, never judging the other for being up or asleep at random times throughout the day.

Late-night calls when you wanted to tell him something funny between classes changed to funny things your friends had done once you graduated from university. Even the early morning drunken messages he'd get around the time he woke up were moments he cherished. He missed having you next to him. Wished you would come home, but you have your life now in America and found a good job after university.

"All of this silence and patience. Pinning and desperately waiting"

Little did Lando know, the other drivers had stolen his phone and gotten your number long ago just waiting for the right moment to use it. Daniel was the first to reach out and introduce himself explaining Lando had wanted to let you know his phone had died.

You had shrugged it off, with how much Lando talked about the other driver it didn't seem that surprising to you that Lando had given your number to him. It was no surprise to Daniel how friendly and kind you were, but how smart you were was a shock. He never would have imagined their little Lando was friends with a lawyer.

Carlos and Oscar followed soon after hearing more about you from Daniel. They both said they wanted to get some stories of Lando as a kid to make fun of him so they begged Daniel for your number and to not tell Lando. You had a laugh retelling stories to them both that you knew Lando would be embarrassed about.

Max and Charles on the other hand had respected Lando's privacy when it came to you until they were added to a group chat with you made by Oscar without Lando's knowledge.

You didn't speak to the other drivers much in the group chat so you had forgotten it existed most of the time. They would send you pictures of Lando doing goofy things every once in a while, but that was about it. Never once did you think to mention it to Lando, it was a little secret look into his world and the photos gave you a way to know he was having fun. They reminded you of all the good times you both had shared together.

"Flashback when you met me. Your buzzcut and my hair bleached. Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me."

Secondary school hadn't started out easily for you, having moved away from all of your primary school friends. As a farewell, you all decided to color each other's hair. You had ended up a platinum blonde which made you stand out even more on the first day of school. Making new friends was hard at first. Most of the time you felt alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

It was probably the worst time of your life looking back. At least until a boy with a cheeky grin and sassy comebacks made it his mission to befriend you. At first, you didn't know what to make of the boy. Turned out his friend group had done something similar to yours but had buzzed all their hair off instead of dyeing it. He saw the girl with good grades who sat alone every day not as a freak like everyone else but as someone worth taking a chance on. You had no right to fall as fast as you did, but you couldn't help it. He was funny, kind, and well perfect.

"Flashback to my mistakes. My rebounds, my earthquakes. Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me."

As secondary school went on, Lando changed, not as a person but physically. No longer was he the straggly, small, buzzcut kid. He got taller, grew his hair out, and even became charming in a way you would never have imagined. Looking back he could remember getting his first girlfriend and how excited he was only to have his heartbroken.

He dated around more from then on, never getting attached to another girl. By developing a confident and flirtatious appearance he could avoid being hurt again. It worked on everyone as he gained popularity, everyone except you. You saw him for who he really was, always there to catch him when the mask slipped off and he shattered on the ground. Something he would always appreciate you for.

"All of this silence and patience. Pinning and anticipation"

When the drivers had first approached you with their plan you were skeptical.

Would he even want to see me after all this time?

You thought. You two had always talked about meeting again but your schedules never aligned. He always had a race or you had a case that you couldn't miss. They talked about how Lando had seemed down the last couple of weeks while you had been busy with a case, how they thought he missed you, and that they had a race in America soon. Blowing care to the wind you agreed. How could you miss the chance to see him again?

Clutching the hem of your shirt as you walked into the paddock for the first time, Daniel was waiting past security to show you around. Oscar had been able to pull some strings and get you a Race Day VIP pass without Lando knowing. You texted in the group chat and Daniel had been sent to come get you so Lando wouldn't notice. He couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to see the look on Lando's face as you two walked.

"Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend."

Soon enough Lando's laughter fills the air as Carlos holds his shoulder while bending over in laughter as well. You stood still for a moment watching to carve this memory of him into your mind before moving closer.

You smiled a bit to yourself, he was always the life of the party, always finding a way to make everyone around him laugh, and as always oblivious to his surroundings. He was still the same Lando you had fallen for all those years ago.

"Hey, Lan."

You said once you were a few feet away. Lando froze for a moment before turning around to look at you in shock. He couldn't believe you were here. Really here standing in the paddock only a few feet away next to Daniel of all people. He decided he didn't care how it happened only that it did.

Your hands started to shake as he stared at you. You wanted to hug him, kiss him, do something, but you were stuck. Stuck looking at him with hope in your eyes that he would say something, do something. Anything.

Carlos chucked at Lando's state before patting him on the back.

"Well, are you just gonna stand there? You know it took a lot of planning to get her here."

Lando snapped out of his trance, looking in between Carlos and you before breaking out in a sprint straight for you with the biggest smile on his face. He lifted you up by the waist spinning around with you in his arms.

It felt so good to have you in his arms again after all this time. At that moment, he realized it didn't matter how long it had been you were his home and he wasn't gonna let you go again.

[lovelytsunoda]

welcome to wherever you are // lance stroll

summary: weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions. but for lance's fiancee, the wedding is just another big milestone that her father never lived to see, like her first day of kindergarten, or her high school graduation.

pairing: lance stroll x hutchence!reader

warnings: depictions of greif, mentions of a parental death.

author's note: i've been on such a bender lately listening to inxs, they truly were one of the greatest bands of the 80s, and I think its a shame that things ended like they did with micheal's death in 1997. i could genuinely talk for hours about it, and about the very real daughter he left behind, but for now i'm going to let the fic speak for itself.

also i feel like i've only done smaus lately bc i've just been in a total idea rut and these are so easy to make lmao

y/n.hutchence just posted to her private story!

VOGUE Weddings: Inside the wedding between Aussie-rock darling YN Hutchence and F1 driver Lance Stroll (you might have to click on these to read them properly)

y/n.hutchence just made a post!

liked by lancestroll, kirkpengilly, officialinxs and 34,508 others.

y/n.hutchence today was a hard day, despite being the happiest of my life. like most milestones, it was bittersweet. while i spent most of my day in love, and excited for what's to come, part of me was also grieving. my dad should have been here to walk me down the aisle, to meet my husband. to give a speech at the reception. i miss you, dad. but i know that you'd be so proud of me.

to my lovely lance, thank you for choosing me, for loving me. for reminding me that its okay to feel all the emotions at once. i love you forever, my husband xx

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lancestroll i love you, my darling wife. you are so strong.

andrewfarriss michael would be so proud of you, kiddo

user the fact that she went public for the day just to speak about her grief on her wedding day . . . that's a caliber of person i could never be

sebastianvettel thank you both for including me in your special day

user she walked down the aisle to 'beautiful girl'....i'm totally not crying my goddamn eyes out

user im not crying you are

user her dad died over 20 years ago....she needs to let it go

-> user lmao imagine telling someone who never knew her father outside of how the media portrayed him after his death to 'get over it'.

mickschumacher 10/10 pasta bar, would come again. your harem of old men scared the crap out of me, though.

-> kirkpengilly old?? who are you calling OLD

-> y/n.hutchence you mean my non-biological uncles? mick, they're the biggest sweethearts

y/n.hutchence just added to her story

y/n.hutchence and lancestroll just posted!

liked by astonmartinf1, sebastianvettel, timfarriss and 29,808 others

lancestroll mr. & mrs. hutchence - stroll, march 2024, sydney australia

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y/n.hutchence i think lance hutchence sounds pretty great

-> lancestroll and i think y/n stroll sounds pretty good too

scottyjames you're taking her last name? good on you, bro

astonmartinf1 welcome to the family y/n! (or should we say 'welcome to wherever you are'? see what we did there?)

fernandoalonso did anyone else get a little teary eyed during the vows?

-> timfarriss i was right there with you mate

-> mickschumacher i saw esteban cry so hard he gave himself the hiccups

y/n.hutchence hey google, play 'never tear us apart' by inxs ( and say thanks to kirk for playing the sax almost all night)

(next part)

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