#as for any possibility for romance... uh...

[ferventrapture]

They could've really ramped up the weirdness with Solas and I am going to be forever bummed that they didn't. Think about it, he's an eldritch being made demi-human flesh and he thinks immortality is the natural state of being. Maybe just for Elves, but what if he thought it was natural for everyone? What if when he stabbed Varric, he actually connected him to a titan which took in his consciousness so he wasn't actually 'dead' and was instead 'eternal' and the lyrium dagger was the link to that titan.

So when you saw him around, it was the him connected to the Titan. What if you knew Solas killed Varric and confronted him and he was like 'He is not dead, he is Eternal, as he should be.' and was just utterly convinced he'd done him a favor?

Like 'this is natural, this is what you should've been. You'll never die, isn't that great?' and meanwhile Varric thinks he's still alive and really walking around, even has a lyrium ghost form because the Lighthouse is in the Fade. You have to inform him, uh, you're dead and you're being kept 'alive' by a Titan indefinitely and he'd have to just. Deal with that. What if these things showed in Inquisition where he reacted very badly every time someone died. Not just his friend Wisdom, but anyone. Like it was an unnatural thing that really bothered him. Every time our troops died in great number in the field he's just sitting at his desk, looking sad and mopey and his voice lines are tired and sorrowful. And I dunno if humans are eternal originally, but Solas being convinced that it's the natural state of all things and they must've been, would've been cool to show. What if when you romance him he becomes panicked every time you fall in battle. Not just 'oh no! Hold on!' shit but like literally his AI will stop what he's doing and rush over to help you even if you're not controlling him to. Which would've been a cool thing to happen with all love interests, honestly, but what if the whole time he's just quietly freaking out under his breath. (of course in this version he can romance anyone of any race or gender because the point of his romance is realizing that people are people which applies to all of them.) What if we got reports after Wisdom died and he walked off, that half the countryside was destroyed with random bursts of magic and when he comes back we're like 'hey, was that you?' and he's just very quietly like 'I had a lot to work out'. And what if what galvanizes him isn't necessarily that he loves you, but because he loves you as a friend or lover, he cannot bear thinking of you or his other friends in the Inquisition dying? What if he tries to find a way to make Humans immortal because now he loves them too and wants to keep them? Just the ones not being dickheads, because he kills tyrants and honestly the ones owning slaves can just die, no loss there. But his human friends who are complex but good like Blackwall and possibly you and Vivienne even though they fight like cats and dogs because she IS doing her best in her own way, even if he doesn't understand it? What if the entirety of Veilguard/Dreadwolf had been about Solas desperately trying to stop death? Trying to save his people yes, but because their suffering would only end in death. They couldn't just outlast their masters and go on living endlessly afterwards. They would have a short life filled with pain and that's JUST too horrible to think about.

And he's perfectly reasonable, logical and understands compassion and empathy, which is what makes it so creepy when he starts talking about death and how it's unnatural and how he'll save everyone.

Not in the 'man I can't understand that' way, but in the way of 'damn, I can totally understand that but also his understanding if it is so alien it makes my brain tired trying to figure it out'.

[bastart13]

The generals reincarnate into better people like the Witch Queen and teleport back to the fantasy world. How do you see it going?

Pfft oh my god, that's a wild image

Ralph voice: "Ha ha, I'm in danger..."

Oof they would not have a fun time. Even less power and authority than the Witch Queen and they're not seducing their way out of the dungeon like MC

Lennox and Jinhai would have fun grappling with suddenly being a new species. Jinhai would be half-dissociating, half-accepting of the new ears and hair. Lennox would be openly freaking out that he's sparkling and his irises have gone. Magnus, on the other hand, has to deal with being isekaied as a middle aged man

Jinhai would... probably have the easiest time? He made enemies, but he doesn't have to manage a cult or armies and he's not known for his deception. Probably still not the most tactful, but maybe some brutal honesty will get it across that he has no idea what the fuck is going on, why is he an elf??? His story would probably be learning to commune with his animals and repair their relationship to nature while helping Reiner's retainers

Lennox's cult is the big issue. They'd probably find him wherever he ends up, forcing him to act as their leader without a clue to what he's doing. He'd be lucky if Saerys doesn't kill him on the spot, and every attempt to smooth over misunderstandings with charisma would be seen as him manipulating his enemies. Once things cool down though, he'd probably have fun learning to fly and using magic

Magnus... Magnus, buddy... He'd be lucky to get out of the dungeon without being executed. Magnus is known to lie, cheat, and take advantage of any opportunity, no matter how immoral. It would not be out of character for him to trick Reiner and his only saving grace would be his pride and desperation to get back to the normal world. I think he'd have to find a way to disband or redirect his army against the Witch Queen to earn any kind of trust

[unnonexistence]

just started reading book 3 in this series and page 1 is taking no prisoners hgdshdslk

[unproduciblesmackdown]

when you're looking for that info about "is there a possible phil/orville romance" and get "though there isn't a, quote, romance between the two men...it's a marvelous pairing and i'm totally happy with there being homosexual overtones between the two"

[crowsofdarkness]

Bucky makes for a great teacher.

18+ CW's below the cut(Bucky's dirty mouth, touching his cock over his jeans, inexperienced reader)

Bucky radiated body heat, it wrapping around me and causing a slick sweat to gather at the back of my neck. I tried to keep my hair down all night while we hung out in the Avengers common room watching a movie. Everyone had left awhile ago, leaving me alone with Bucky. With the way he had been watching me with sheer intensity, I quickly gathered my hair to throw it up into a ponytail. That simple action made him swallow thickly while shifting in his seat. 

“What?” I asked. “Did I do something?” 

With the way he was smirking, I could tell he was far from uncomfortable. The relationship between us was an odd one. I was still new on the team, only becoming a member a few weeks ago. But ever since my first day here, I felt this undeniable pull from Bucky. He would never come out right and say how he felt but he showed it with the way he flirted with me. 

“You threw your hair up in a ponytail after looking at my dick,” he said with a blunt tone. 

I blinked at Bucky with my mouth agape, not expecting him to say that. I’d never been around someone who spoke so straightforward like that so I expected myself to be disgusted. Instead, I found myself aroused because I definitely had been staring at his dick ever since he sat down next to me. 

“I wasn’t,” I shook my head. “Wait, what does me throwing my hair up in a ponytail have anything to do with your-.” 

I couldn’t say the word out loud. Thinking the word wasn’t an issue but actually spitting out the word gave me pause. 

Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, a movement I tracked with careful precision. 

“Dick,” he said the word slowly at first, hoping I’d repeat it. 

Instead I looked down at my lap to avoid eye contact with him which made him drag his vibranium fingers along the exposed skin of the back of my neck. 

“Do you really not know what it means when a woman throws up her hair after staring at a guy’s dick?” He wondered with a slight chuckle. 

I swallowed thickly, shivering under his touch and kept my voice quiet as I spoke. “There’s a lot I don’t know.”

There was this untenable pull from Bucky from the moment I bumped into him in the hallway my first day here. Something about the darkness in his eyes told me that he’d show me the dark parts of myself that were fighting to break through. The part of me that came alive while reading those dark romance books. 

“Do you want to know what it means?” Bucky questioned. 

Slowly lifting my gaze from my lap to meet his burning one, I gave him a slight nod after thinking it over. It was just an answer to a question I had, surely it wouldn’t hurt knowing. 

Bucky sat closer to me, gathering the ends of my hair between his fingers. “Typically, when someone throws up their hair in a ponytail, it means they’re getting ready to suck someone's dick.” 

I let out a shocked breath while glancing down at his lap, directly where his dick was. My hand was so close to his thigh as it was perched in my own lap and I nearly reached for him. 

“That’s-uh-,” my words fell away again when I felt his fingers graze down the side of my neck, over my collar bone. 

When I swallowed, Bucky tracked the movement with his thumb. 

“Are you saying you’ve never done that when you suck a guy's dick?” There was an oddly comforting and playful tone to his question. 

If it were anyone else being so upfront and vulgar I would have smacked them however the voice in my mind told me to continue on with him. 

“I’ve never actually done that before,” I motioned with my eyes towards his lap. 

Bucky choked on a laugh as his hand dropped away from me only for his face to go stone when he realized I wasn't joking. 

“You’ve never given head before?”

I shook my head, feeling even smaller than I was. Embarrassment filled me as he continued to stare at me with a bewildered look. Any chance I had to possibly have something with Bucky went down the drain. 

Why do you think he’d even go for someone like you? Have you seen him? 

Ignoring not only the stabbing in my heart but the voice in my head that often chastised me, I gave a somber shrug. 

“I’ve already embarrassed myself enough tonight. I think I’m going to head to bed,” I said while rising to my feet only to yanked back down onto the couch in my previous spot. 

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Bucky asked with a tender tone. 

Immediately I shook my head. “No! You’re fine. It's just-I’m not used to talking about sex. I’ve been called a prude basically my entire life so to hear you be so open talking about it makes me feel embarrassed that I don't understand the reason why someone putting their hair up was a sexual act. Now I’m rambling and making more of an idiot myself and I wish someone would just shut me up.” 

“Do you want to?” 

My eyes snapped over to him after I pinched them shut. “Wh-what?” 

Bucky eased back into the couch, showing more of his lap at me; an open invitation. “Do you want to suck my cock?” 

The way he asked the question made my cheeks inflame with heat and I squeezed my thighs together when that heat spread straight to my core. With a quick flick down towards his lap, I could see the faintest outline of his cock against his jeans and didn’t stop myself from licking my lips. 

“I want to do something else,” I rushed out.

A low hum vibrated from the back of his throat. “What’s that?” 

I didn’t speak, simply kept my eyes on him, hoping he caught on so I didn’t have to say it outloud. 

“Doll, you have to use your words,” Bucky spoke while brushing his own hand over his cock causing both of us to share a moan. “Oh, is that what you want? You want to touch my cock?” 

I nodded feverishly, not knowing where this part of me came from. I’d never been this up front with anyone so I was surprised at myself. 

“Then take it,” he demanded while palming himself. 

I didn’t. 

I began shrinking into myself, becoming the form of me I was familiar with. The one that was called prude her entire life. 

“Doll,” Bucky moaned while bucking his hips into his own hand. “Take it.” 

I felt frozen in front of him, unable to push through the wall that suddenly built itself inside of my mind. All the teasing I’d gone through all throughout high school and the mental abuse from my ex were pestering inside of me, telling me I would do something wrong with Bucky and he would simply laugh in my face for how inexperienced I was. 

The loud voices seized when Bucky grabbed my hand and forced it on his cock, replacing his own hand. A gasp fell from my lips when I finally could feel what I couldn’t stop staring at it all night. 

“Oh god, it’s so-.” Like before, I couldn't finish my sentence, truly taken aback by the size I felt beneath my palm. 

My hand remained frozen, unsure what to do with it, so Bucky began guiding it. Up and down. 

“Just like that, doll. Press your palm against it,” he was breathless. 

Following his guidance, I began pressing my palm harder against his cock and he let his head fall back to the arm of the couch.

“Fuck,” Bucky hissed when I pressed to hard against his cock and I wretched my hand back. 

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” 

His head lifted from the couch and the haze look in his eyes made me whimper. 

“No, Doll. Quite the opposite,” Bucky reached for my hand again but I hesitated. 

“Maybe we should stop this. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m sure you can find someone with more experience,” I rambled on. 

Once again he grabbed my hand and brought it back to his cock, my actions picking up almost instantly with his next words. 

“I just want you.” 

Those four words fueled the confidence in me as I began playing with his cock over his jeans again. Rubbing it as best as I could even though I wanted to slip my hand in his pants. 

“You’re doing so good, Doll,” Bucky praised. 

I whimpered again at the praise as I found myself kneeling between his legs so I could get a better angle with my hand. I dragged my finger down the length of it as his cock pressed hard against the zipper and when I could vaguely feel the head of it, I tested the waters by rubbing it between my thumb and finger. 

His hips bucked up into my hand causing him to curse before gently removing my hand and bringing it to his chest, halting my movements. I couldn’t stop the tears that began to well in my eyes for being stopped yet again. 

“No tears on that pretty face. The first time I cum, I want it to be down your throat,” Bucky explained while sitting up with a groan, adjusting himself in his jeans. 

My heart rate picked up as my hand continued to be pressed against the broadness of his chest. 

“I told you. I’ve never done that before,” I reminded him. 

With one thumb brushing against the back of my hand, the other dragged over my bottom lip causing me to suck in a breath. 

“It’s alright, doll. I’ll work you up to it.” 

[literaticat]

If an author writes a book not knowing the genre, will the book fit into a genre when it’s finished—or is it possible for a book to be completely genre-less?

I'm about to GO OFF, so if you just want the short answer:

I presume that if an author is writing a novel and they don't have a specific genre in mind when they are doing it, they are just writing fiction. You can get more specific after you finish the book and figure out where it belongs in the bookstore and how to describe it.

It's not really possible for a book to be "completely genre-less" because that implies that it CAN'T be categorized in a bookstore -- I bet your book can be. (I should hope so, anyway, otherwise how will it sell???) -- but also, uh -- it doesn't really matter? Everyone gets really hung up on these hyper-specific genre labels, but you don't really need to get THAT specific. If your book is just "general interest fiction" that's OK -- so call it a novel and describe what the tone is. (Funny? Realistic? Literary? Fast paced? Tearjerking? There has to be some way to describe it, no? )

Even if your book is just weird as hell rambling about things I would never read about in a hundred years -- guess what, that's a genre, Experimental Fiction. ;-)

--

Long Answer: Fun fact about the word "genre" -- it comes from the same root as genus, like what you probably heard back in school when learning about the taxonomy of animals and whatnot.

Because I am extra, I decided to do a little taxonomy of books. It's still a work in progress, I might decide to change it a bit, but this is the basic chart.

I'll assume that pretty much any book we're talking about here has the same domain, kingdom, phylum and class, and PROBABLY the same order, too, since most of you are likely writing Fiction.

Within the order FICTION, there are "families", which I here call Categories -- novels, graphic novels, plays, essay collections, short story anthologies, young adult novels, young adult anthologies, middle grade novels, middle grade graphic novels, chapter books, picture books, ETC. Categories in the order NONFICTION include Biography/Memoir, Cookbook, Reference, Religion, History, Science, etc.

Within each Category, there are different Genres -- that is, the type of [novel, or whatever] it is. Genres of novel include mystery, science fiction, horror, realistic, historical, romance, western, etc.

And within each Genre, you can get even more specific with species, which I am calling subgenre/tone. That's the type of the type, in other words. There are well-established subgenres (like Horror could be slasher, or gothic, or psychological. Romance could be historical, or realistic/contemporary, or whatever) -- but it's also acceptable to get more specific with tone or style -- "Comedic", "literary", "commercial" "upmarket" etc. (You can also have books that have both subgenre AND tone -- that's like species and sub-species)

Examples:

DRACULA: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Classic Novel > GENRE: Horror > SUBGENRE/TONE: Gothic

DON'T LET THE PIGEON DRIVE THE BUS: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Picture Book > GENRE: Meta-fiction > SUBGENRE/TONE: Comedic

LINCOLN IN THE BARDO: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Novel > GENRE: Magical Realism > SUBGENRE: Experimental > TONE: Literary

JAMES: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Novel > GENRE: Historical Fiction > SUBGRENRE: Retelling > TONE: Literary

You get it?

OK SO, in the bookstore, the books are first divided by CATEGORY. All the Cookbooks are together, because that's the Category, but if there are a lot of them, they will be broken up into categories-within-the-category ("genre" if you will). Perhaps they would be grouped by region or style (Mexican cuisine, Middle Eastern cuisine, European cuisine; Health Food; Baking; etc). Mastering the Art of French Cooking would be in Cookbooks, of course -- but in a larger bookstore with many cookbooks, it would likely be found in its region, either French or European Cuisine -- and in a store with a HUGE French cooking section, those books might even be further divided into "French > classic techniques" "French > desserts" "French > postmodern cuisine", etc. So:

MASTERING THE ART OF FRENCH COOKING: Order: Nonfiction > Category: Cookbook > Genre: French > Subgenre: Classic Technique

And so it goes with Fiction as well; the sections are divided by Category. So all the Middle Grade Novels are probably together. All the Picture Books are probably together. Etc. But for very large categories (like Fiction > Novel), there are enough books that it becomes easier to browse if they give the biggest genres their own shelving. Hence there are probably sections for Mystery, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Romance, etc.

MIND YOU: There are PLENTY of books that fall under "Fiction" and DON'T get separated out into one of those other genres. They are just categorized as fiction. The fiction section is probably the largest section in most bookstores -- it's not weird to write a book that gets filed in the "fiction" section! Those books still have a genre. That genre just might be "realistic" or "historical" or "western" or magical realism" or "postmodern/experimental" or something that doesn't neatly fall into the Mystery or Science Fiction (or whatever) genre categories.

For example: At my bookstore, we ONLY separate out Mystery, Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror, Romance, Classics. So within the regular Fiction section you'll find a huge variety of books -- they all DO have a "genre" -- it just isn't one of those genres that gets shelved separately!

So, no, I don't believe there are books that just *don't have* a category or genre. ALL books have them. We might disagree a little about what they should be -- we might use slightly different words -- new species might pop up here and there -- we might be able to categorize some of them into even more minute niches -- but all books CAN be categorized in some fashion.

[catastrophicdisasters]

apologies, i'm still angry abt TUA S4

so, if we take out all of the blatant issues with the season (character assassination, 'resolutions' that create more plotholes than they solve, rushed scenes that make no sense, side plots that go nowhere, raymond vanishing for no reason, etc etc), what are we left with? let's see:

fatphobia (multiple jokes made about 'chubby Diego', when David just looks hydrated and healthy)

SA played for jokes (it's clear that Klaus having sex while possessed is supposed to be funny, but he's being held hostage and forced to do this for money, when we already know he didn't even want his powers back??)

cheating

problematic / borderline problematic age gaps (either way you spin it, either Five is physically 20-26 while Lila is likely mid 40s, or Five is mentally 70s while Lila is mid 40s; Aidan was 19 while filming, and Ritu was 34)

waiting for the actor to come of age before introducing a romance (we already know what some fans can be like over Five/Aidan, this will not have helped; I would be horrified if I found out the show runners had planned a romance arc with a coworked 15 years older than me and then waited for me to turn legal age to execute it)

sexism (i was reluctant to call it that but i also don't know what else to call it - Lila basically had her agency stripped away to become the love interest two men fought over; Steve wanted Five to have a romance and didn't care who with - use Lila simply because she was there)

complete disregard of character trauma (Klaus being buried alive despite it having been mentioned in every prior season that he was locked in a mausoleum by Reginald, including literally being left to die)

possible overstepping of an actor's boundaries (i've not been able to verify this, but i've seen it said that robert sheehan has requested not to do sex scenes?) (still havent been able to prove this; wasn't an issue with other roles so... hesitant to leave it)

actors requests being ignored (David asked multiple times if the Lila cheating sideplot was required, but clearly it went ahead anyway)

bad cgi

that awful vomit montage

Reginald (im not quite calling it abuse forgiveness but uh. it's not far off tbh)

i don't even know what to call this, but basically told the Hargreeves the abuse they suffered was their fault because they shouldn't even exist??

what did i miss? (im sure there's something)

from the replies:

the song in the ep3 dance scene uses a slur for romani people (and is also about a man and an underage girl)

SA dismissal (it's literally never addressed that Allison SA'd Luther last season. like, at all. everything's just a-okay now!)

more sexism (Allison's arc was also reduced to serving men; there's a single line to explain that Ray left, with no mention of why (i could go OFF about this but this post isn't supposed to be about mishandling of characters); even after everything, all her bonding with Claire comes through Klaus's storyline. also, Sloane is just gone and nobody gives a shit - Luther has one line and that's it??)

so many issues with consent (all of the girls shown in the place Klaus works look drugged / Klaus doesn't want to be there and doing any of that, it's all against his wishes / they all get their powers back against their wishes - although they do tell Ben that wasn't his choice to make / Klaus gets his powers back against his will when Allison is pressured to do it to save his life)

[abbotsanatomy]

hello!! i love ur writing you’re feeding my abbot addiction <33 could you write a fic with a depressed reader, maybe she had a hard case that hit close to home that ended badly and is really lingering for her, and jack noticed because she’s been more withdrawn and distant for the past few days and he tries to get her to talk about it and she says shes fine then blah blah fast forward shes on yhe roof crying after working a double :) sorry im a fiend for hurt comfort

⨳ PROTECTING THE HIVE

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: (20-ish year) age gap, resident/attending relationship, workplace romance, depictions of depression, mentions of suicidal ideation, kinda medical malpractice (lol), panic attack, allusions to child abuse. author's note: i had no idea what to name this, so here's my attempt at being funny... (also keep the compliments coming, they're feeding my ego <33 mwah)

You used to love your bed. It used to be a huge source of comfort. And sleep. Sleep is a special commodity when you work night shifts at a trauma center.

Now, you hate it. Because whenever you aren't working, you're just lying there. Not even asleep, just staring at the ceiling. Half of the time, you want to get up and be with your hot, older boyfriend.

The other half of the time, your mind is just pulling out the most horrendous memories possible, making you relive them, and wish you were dead. There's a bottle of pills on your nightstand you know would do the trick. You won't let yourself.

People rely on you. Jack relies on you. You save lives every day; you just wish you didn't have to lose so many along the way.

The only place you can escape your own thoughts is the ER. So, you throw yourself into your work. You work twice as hard, for twice as long.

Of course, Jack notices. He can see the most imperceptible changes in your demeanor, so this major shift doesn't exactly fly under his radar.

Be that as it may, you won't tell him any of it. He's a natural worrier. He hovers and he worries. That's just who he is. You're doing him a huge favor, really.

Besides, out of all the things your coping mechanism could be, it's saving lives. Who wouldn't support that?

So, you work yourself to the bone guilt-free. You take on double shifts with a few extra hours sprinkled on top. It's more than tiring, but it also means that when you get home and you're in bed, you pass out. You don't lay there for hours thinking about the kid who died in your ER two weeks ago.

You're careful about it, too. You change your scrubs and chug a cup of that terrible break room coffee before Jack comes in for the night shift.

Tonight's another one of those long, grueling, self-inflicted shifts. You've got a Red Bull in one hand, and a patient's bloodwork in the other. You've assessed labs like this one a million times, but the numbers aren't making any sense right now. Parker passes by you with a quick tap on your shoulder to bring your attention to her.

“Hey, you want me to count you in for the rock climbing thing this Sunday?” she asks, opening up one of the ER computers, “It was fun last time, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say slowly.

You're not too sure you can come up with a viable excuse right now, so you'll just have to cancel later. It was really fun, it just sounds like too much effort right now.

She walks away with a nod, when one of the nurses calls for her. When you start feeling surrounded in the middle of the ER hallway, you make your way to the break room. It feels even more stuffy, somehow.

You grip the papers in your hands tighter. The throbbing in your head that hasn't really left for the past two weeks has become unbearable now.

Noises are too loud. Everyone's too close. You need to get out, now.

Everything in your hand gets abandoned on the break room counter. You make your way as swiftly as possible past the patient’s rooms. A hand gently grips your arm, before you can pull the emergency exit open.

“Are you alright?”

Jack's low cadence coupled with his steady touch on your arm make you want to burst out into tears right then and there.

“I'm fine. I just—” your voice cracks.

“I need a minute,” you tell him, willing your voice to be as firm as you can manage. You can't even pull your gaze up from the floor. It isn't clear if he's buying it or not.

He lets go of your arm, and you can finally run up the hospital's stairs to the rooftop. You're completely out of breath, and still wildly overstimulated by the time you get there.

You pull the roof's metal door open. The moment the cold December air hits your face, it calms your panic down. But it brings with it a wave of sadness that can't be quelled or distracted away. You let yourself feel it.

You're out of control, now. Hands shaking, limbs completely wracked by these huge, full-body sobs. You steady yourself with your arms on one of the roof's AC units, when the memories start flooding your mind.

The kid you killed, he'd come in a week before. He had bruises all over, cuts where he wasn't supposed to. You passed the information onto someone on the day shift, so they can tell the department social worker. The next day you came back, he was gone.

A week later, he was dying in your arms. His blood literally staining your hands is a memory you'll never be able to erase. You spiral, his first and last visit to the ER flashing in your mind with equal consequence.

The footsteps growing closer barely register to your ears over your wailing. The moment Jack pulls you close, a hand on your jaw to bring your eyes to his, you instinctively pull away. He's insistent, though. He was trying to give you space, but look where that's gotten you.

“Hey, hey,” he says firmly, to grab your attention.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. He quickly realizes he can't get you to understand anything he says, not right now. So he does the next best thing.

He holds you. Really tight. So tight you can only smell his cologne and that sterile hospital scent that lingers on him for hours after a shift. It reminds you of home. You see him almost every day, but you miss him. He somehow always knows exactly what you need.

It takes a good ten minutes for you to stop crying in his arms. He's happy to be there, just glad you're slowly calming down. When your breathing evens out, and your eyes have dried out, you look up at him.

Where you think there should be disappointment, maybe even hatred, there's only admiration. If you’d actually picked up a scalpel and killed someone, he wouldn't even flinch, you think.

His gaze alone is making this a lot easier, “Better?”

You nod. Your eyes feel heavy, like you might just sleep here in his arms.

“It's the oxytocin,” he jokes.

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle.

His scrub top looks incredibly comfortable. For the first time in weeks, you wish you were just in bed. You could lay on his chest and have the best sleep you've had in too many nights to count. The best you can get right now is resting your forehead on the black fabric. That's exactly what you do.

Jack lets a few seconds go back before speaking up.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I...” you take a deep breath.

I killed him. The words die on your tongue. You can't say them.

Jack must notice this is causing you distress, so he runs his fingers through your hair. He kisses the top of your head to calm you down.

“We don't have to, right now,” he whispers, “Not ever, even. But you do need to talk about it to someone.”

You nod in agreement, against his shirt. Your coping mechanisms are so not working.

“When was the last time you ate?”

You blank, “I don't...I don't know.”

“Sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Alright. You're done.”

He pulls your head up with a hand on each cheek, “Clock out. Go home. Have some food, and I'll be there in a few hours.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You both walk to the emergency exit. In the stairwell, you turn to him, your eyes still glistening.

“Hey, um. I'm not fine, Jack,” you admit.

“I know that,” he tells you. “But you will be. I'll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

[minisugakoobies]

Playing With Fire | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: smut, forbidden romance, maybe a little angst, Mafia!AU (!)

Rating: M(18+)

Warnings: sneaking around, dirty talk, biting, fucking in an office, fingering, unprotected sex (assume alternative bc), creampie, reference to weapons (gun holster); power imbalance, mentions of masturbation, i wrote yet another whipped mingyu because the man's default setting is "simp," this mingyu also might have a scent kink; derogatory use of the nickname "princess"

Word Count: 1.4k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Mingyu doesn't realize that fucking around with you is like playing with fire.

A/N: This comes directly from a dream I had the other night. I don't usually write mafia fics, but I just had to write this one. Thank you to @minttangerines for helping me with the story! I'm sorry that I make you read about your nemesis so much. 💜

If people like this one, there's a possibility of more. 👀 You just gotta let me know! 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

The glass and chrome elevator dings when you arrive at the penultimate floor of the high-rise. A scarred man in a black suit nods as you stalk across the lobby, heels clicking loudly on the white marble floor. He quickly rises to hold the door open for you as you enter a corridor lined with unmarked rooms. Your expected destination is at the end of the hall, but as soon as the door is closed behind you, you pivot, stepping into a room to your right instead.

Mingyu’s been waiting for a while, it seems, based on the way his suit jacket is neatly draped over the chair next to where he stands. His holster hangs over another chair. He glances pointedly at his watch, then looks at you as you lock the door. 

“Save it,” you order, before he can open his mouth. You place your Dior handbag on an unused desk. “Traffic was a bitch.” 

He laughs quietly, the corner of his lips lifting in a little smirk. As soon as you’re within reach, he wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you to his impatient mouth. You melt into his kiss, tangling your fingers in his dark hair, and moan when his tongue licks into your mouth, hot and demanding. 

“I would’ve waited all day,” he confesses between kisses, and you groan, twisting in his arms so that your back is against his chest. 

“You can save the sweet talk, too,” you inform him.  Grasping at the hand that is splayed over your stomach, you drag it towards the button on the waistband of your pantsuit. 

Mingyu merely chuckles as he obeys your wordless command. In seconds, his hand is down your panties. To his credit, he doesn’t make any comments about the wetness he finds waiting for him. Instead, he silently slips his middle finger inside your pussy, and you choke back a whimper.

“Just small talk, then?” he asks, while thumbing gently at your clit. “Okay. I need my shirt back.”

You squirm against him, rolling your hips back to press against his ass. He’s already erect, of course. Touching you turns him so much. It makes you dizzy with power. “Um… what shirt?” 

“The one I left at your place three weeks ago.”

“Mmmm, I don’t recall - ah! Ah, okay! Stop biting!” Mingyu removes his teeth from your earlobe. “Fine, I have your shirt, but I’m not giving it back.”

Mingyu hums, the arm around your waist tightening a little. “Is that so?” 

The back of your head bumps against his chin as you nod. “Uh-huh. It’s mine now. It’s just so soft, and it keeps me warm at night.” 

“You wear it like pajamas? Aw, Princess, that’s so cute,” he coos, kissing your cheek.

“Don’t call me that,” you scowl, turning your face away. You’ve always hated that nickname. But Mingyu’s undeterred by your sudden coldness, tracing his lips down your jawline while adding a second finger.

“What if you give me back the shirt and I keep you warm?” 

“That’s an awfully presumptuous offer, isn’t it?” you tease him with a sharp laugh, as though he’s not currently knuckle-deep in your cunt. As if you wouldn’t invite him into your bed again. He doesn’t need to know that, though. It’s best to keep him from getting any ideas about how far this can go.

“Just saying.” Mingyu’s lips buzz against your skin as he kisses your neck. “Or what if I buy you another one, so I can have mine back?”

“But I need yours, though. It - fuck,” you gasp as Mingyu curls his fingers inside you, stroking your g-spot with precision, “it smells like you.”

“And that, what - comforts you?”

You do find his presence immensely comforting. But that’s not the reason you’re keeping the shirt. You shake your head, and grip his forearm as you lean back into him, letting him take your weight while he dips his fingers faster. The wet, sloppy sounds are barely muffled by your clothing.

You try to breathe deeply, to calm yourself enough to speak, but you stutter over your reply anyway. “Mmm, no. It helps m-me while I t-touch myself when I’m thinking abo- about you.” 

Mingyu’s hand suddenly stills as he curses quietly behind you. “Pants off. Now.” 

With excited hands, you fumble with your clothes, pulling your pants and underwear down. Mingyu guides you to bend over the desk with a strong hand on your back. You hear the sound of him unzipping, and then you feel his cockhead pushing at your lips.

He slides in with a little more roughness than usual, too desperate to bury himself inside you to be more considerate, but this is how you like it best, when he’s almost mindless with lust. He fucks you hard and fast, and you push back against him, both of you eager to take from each other what you need while you can. 

It only takes a few more hurried thrusts before your legs start to quake.  You slump over on the desk, letting Mingyu fuck you through your orgasm. His fingers tighten their hold on your hips, leaving marks in the only places he can. If he had his way, he’d leave his calling cards from head to toe.

But he’s not in charge here, and as he nears his climax, he remembers that. “I’m gonna - can I - please - “

Aw, he even said the magic word. How could you deny him? “Go ahead. Cum inside me, Mingyu.” 

He grunts as he falls across your back, grinding against your ass while filling you with his hot seed, and mumbles hasty thank you’s into your clothed shoulder. You give him a few moments to catch his breath, but time is a luxury that even you cannot afford right now. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” Mingyu straightens up when you speak, and backs away. You wince, feeling his cum leaking down your thigh when he pulls out, and reach for your purse. “Fuck, of course I don’t have anything with me…”  

“Here.” With a flourish, Mingyu chivalrously plucks a handkerchief from his suit jacket. You clean yourself off, then aim for a nearby wastebasket. “No, wait! That’s real silk!” He neatly folds it before placing it back into his pocket, and grins at your openly surprised expression. “What? Maybe I like the way you smell, too.” 

You scoff. “Whatever. Get moving.” 

He smoothes some tiny wrinkles from his jacket while you fix his hair before he leaves the room. Then you spritz yourself with the tiny bottle of perfume you keep in your bag and head for the room at the end of the hallway. 

The group of men gathered around the table all raise their heads as you enter. “The princess is finally here,” you hear one old man mutter to another. You ignore them with practiced ease as you cross the room. Mingyu is sitting near them, and you ignore him as well, focusing on the stern-looking man at the head of the table, flashing him your sweetest smile. 

“Darling, there you are,” your father says, smiling back when you bend down to kiss his cheek. One of his other men, Wonwoo, hops up from his seat to pull your chair out for you, and you thank him with a honeyed grin, enjoying the way his throat bobs in response. 

Your father calls the meeting to order, and you allow yourself to peek at Mingyu, only to find him staring back. As you watch, he removes his handkerchief and pretends to dab at some imaginary sweat on his upper lip. Then he tucks it away with a sly smile. 

It seems someone is taking your dalliances a little too seriously. Maybe he needs a reminder of his place.

While your father lays out his vision for his empire - for your empire - you turn your attention to Wonwoo. Catching his eye, you glance down, then back up, playing the shy flirt with a soft smile. He blinks, and glances quickly at your father, but then he can’t stop himself from looking at you again, and his lips twitch as he suppresses a smile of his own. Oh, he’ll do perfectly. 

Your father’s men are very devoted to your family. It’s always worked in your favor.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2025 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝐄𝐩. 𝐈: 𝐀 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Other characters: bestfriend!Natasha romanoff

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship.

Summary: To help your best friend dodge an arranged blind date, you go in her place, prepared to sabotage it. But when your date turns out to be James Buchanan Barnes—your cold, terrifying CEO—your entire world turns upside down. Instead of being horrified by your over-the-top antics, Bucky leans back and smirks, saying, “You’ll do.”

Word count: 1k+

Series masterlist Episode 2

Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

"I'm not sure." You glance toward your friend, Natasha, with an almost hesitant look.

"Come on, [Name], just this once," she urges.

The idea Natasha presents sounds ridiculous—who would pose as their best friend on a blind date just to scare away a guy? This isn’t a normal day by any means.

"Nat, I love you, a lot actually, but this is just crazy," you protest.

"What are you saying? It's going to be so damn funny watching the horror on his face," Natasha snickers.

"Please save me from going on this date. My dad won’t listen to me," she begs.

You raise an eyebrow. "You can’t just tell him no?"

She groans, running a hand down her face. "I have. He doesn’t care. He thinks this guy is my perfect match and keeps setting up these ridiculous dates. If I back out, he’ll just schedule another one. You’re my only hope."

Your lip twitches slightly upward. The idea of acting completely unhinged to scare away her blind date suddenly doesn’t seem too bad.

"What do I get out of this?" You narrow your eyes at her.

"You’ll be helping out your girl.. ok I'll take you out for shopping." She offers.

"Um… I'll think about it."

That’s how you end up here, in a high-end restaurant, dressed in your “only for special occasions” outfit, complete with a red wig and outrageously heavy makeup, transforming you into the character of a ridiculous script. You’re busy typing updates to Natasha on your phone when someone calls out her name.

Standing behind you is a six-foot Adonis of a man, clad in a tailored suit that screams elegance—the grandson of the man you work for. As just announced, you are now in front of your new CEO, James Buchanan Barnes.

Your entire body freezes. The words and plans you meticulously crafted vanish from your mind. I'm gonna lose my job, goes through your mind.

"Ms. Romanoff, it's nice to meet you," he says, extending his hand. You hesitantly shake it.

"Please, sit," he adds, and you take your seat, feeling the awkward tension rise.

This can’t be happening. You spent years climbing the ranks at this company, staying late, working through weekends, proving yourself. And now, all of that is about to go up in flames because of one stupid favor.

Bucky sits down, already planning how to end this date as fast as possible. He has no intention of dating anyone—he’s focused on steering the company in a new direction now that he’s CEO. His grandfather forced him into this blind date, determined to see his only grandson married and settled. He can't turn down his grandfather's wishes; he loves him, after all. So here he is, glancing at his watch and counting the minutes until an appropriate time to leave.

You blink in disbelief. Natasha better be the most grateful person in the world for this.

"I'm going to get to the point, Ms. Romanoff—" Bucky begins, but you interrupt him.

"Nuh-uh, I gotta take this call, Mr. Barnes," you declare, slipping away before he can say another word.

The moment you step away, you put on your most sickly-sweet voice. "Heyy! Boo, how’s my baby doing?" You practically purr into the phone, glancing at Bucky to gauge his reaction. Nothing. Not even an eye twitch.

Time to up the act.

"You know I can’t keep my hands off you," you coo, adding a breathy giggle for good measure. "Last night was insane."

Bucky rubs his temples. You swear you see his jaw flex slightly. A reaction. Finally.

You return to the table with a smug little smirk, twirling your hair as you eye him up and down, intent on making him uncomfortable.

"That was one of the guys on my roster—so, where were we?" you purr, a hint of manic glee slipping into your tone.

Bucky starts to speak, but you abruptly turn and call for the waiter to order some food. You sip on an expensive drink that’s been presented to you, checking over your manicure.

"Honestly, Bucky, do you ever get tired of being so proper?" you snap, your voice shifting to an unhinged whisper that barely conceals wild amusement. "I mean, look at you—so prim, so boring. Doesn’t it ever tickle you to see someone push the limits?"

Bucky arches an eyebrow, a low-key, amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I must say, Ms. Romanoff, you are different from what I expected," he replies coolly, his tone laced with restrained amusement.

"Well, gotta keep them on their toes, right?" you say, faking an exaggerated laugh.

You keep your ramble going, trying your hardest to break the guy and make him leave right this moment, but he does not budge at all. He’s actually enjoying this—a lot—contrary to his earlier mood.

Feeling done with entertaining him, you pull out your most treasured weapon.

"Mr. Barnes, how could I forget to introduce you to my babies—Samantha and Rachel?"

He raises an eyebrow in a questioning stare as you lean forward, pushing up your chest. You beckon him forward with your finger.

"The left one is Samantha, and the right one is Rachel. I spent a whopping 50k dollars on these babies," you giggle, giving him a wink. He chokes on his drink, eyes widening as he stares at your grinning face. And, as you least expect it, he lets out a laugh, a real, amused one.

The chatter of the restaurant fades as you lean back in your chair, eyes locked on him. Across the table, James Buchanan Barnes—your cold, calculating CEO—studies you with an amused, almost bemused expression. The clink of cutlery and soft background music melt away, leaving only the tension between your unhinged energy and his quiet, calculated amusement.

"You’ll do," he states, confusing you for a second.

"What do you mean?" you ask, not understanding.

"Your father has been a good friend of my grandfather, and I like where this date is going. I'd like to schedule another date with you."

"Huh?" you let out. "What do you mean? You can’t do this. You know I have three other men going out with me this week—I can't do this."

"It’s fine with me. I'll talk with my secretary to arrange another date. I like you and would like to pursue this," he says, getting up with a smirk on his face. "Give my regards to your father." He turns away and walks out of the restaurant.

Left alone at the table, you exhale sharply, a mix of panic and exasperation washing over you. You quickly text Natasha, urging her to call immediately. "Call me, it's urgent," you type as you sit there, wondering exactly what you got yourself into.

A/n: You know I had to bring in Samantha and Rachel. They are icons..iykyk.

I've had this series in my mind for a long time. Lemme know your thoughts on it. <3

☆[Follow the tag ⁺‧˚ ⋆Business Proposal⋆ ˚‧⁺ for updates]☆

[velaenam]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, tba notes – not proofread. ok due to my stupidity, i forgot caleb spoke on his graduation. lore purposes, the gala you were at was NOT the graduation ceremony… u simply did not attend that..tehe… 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 2 of many ! previous chapter | next chapter

                         couple weeks later

you rub your temples, peering into your notes and eating your burrito. it was friday night and you were knee deep in paperwork, once again. “thrust vector.. 2.3 degrees starboard. okay. compensates for drift, something something peak climb rate–” you flip through another page, scanning quickly, “thermals peaked at… 1785, not 2000.. failure points lower than expected..blah blah stress limits– got it.” you give a short pause, furrowing your brows as you read, “coolings-” – “babes what the fuck are you on about.” stacias valley-esque tone rumbles through your facetime call. you looked up from the phone and you had forgotten you were in a 4 way conversation with your friends from the group chat, everybody doing their own thing. 

you shook your head, a worn smile plastered on your face, “sorry– was just checking some notes from work.” you inform, signing off on a couple of things before you close your book. you huff, exhausted, and thinking on what you should do next. as you grab to scroll through your phone stacia gasps, “oh! hey! i know its been like a hot hot minute, but remember when you said you had some like info you wanted to share with us. … like a month ago?” stacia sings, and your other friends chuckle at her, seemingly interested all of the sudden. as much as you hate to admit, your hot gossip wasn’t as frequent as the other ladies, so when you had something to say, all eyes and ears perk up on you. you rolled your eyes, pursing your lips, “so like remember when i went to the aviation gala?” – “uh yeah. the one with hot fucking guys and women that you didn’t want us going to?” stacia states matter-o-factly, you roll your eyes at her before continuing, “because its a top security event you idiot– but you dont wanna hear that” you chuckled, “ – there was this hot- and i mean sexy hot, mister ten, knockout man there. purple eyes, brown hair, tall. big broad shoulders– i mean he was big.” you emphasize with your hands, this was the giddiest everybody got, awoo and whistle and all, “i was going to maybe go talk to him– but his fucking girlfriend was there! they kissed.i was so fucking mad ” stacia rolled her eyes at you falling to her bed, “of course the dreamboat  has a girlfriend already– i’m sick!!  did you at least get his name?!” – “fuck no! i said fuck all that, i’m not interested anymore.” 

you were a ride or die for a woman till the end. you have had your crazy run in’s with men who were married-but-not-married or we’re-in-a-rough-spot and you didn’t want any public reputation that you had tarnished. it was one thing being scrutinized by the public, but its another being scrutinized by your family. and you certainly weren’t going to bat as a mistress nor be responsible for a broken family. 

“i could cry for you.” one of the girls said as she fakes a sob, and the three of you mourn over the possibility of a hunk. you quickly recoil from it and plan your brunch for sunday– a longstanding tradition you had with your friends. a morning filled with sexy servers delicious meals, episodes of island love and bottomless mimosas. now normally some may say, that’s a bit excessive, yea? no! you live to work, not work to live– even though you dont build a good case for yourself– with all those all nighters you’ve pulled, and all the extra days you went in, but you did it for the love of the game. 

stacia is a social media manager for a big company, talia is a professor, and marina is an engineer as well. 

you met stacia when you were at a convention, and she hit on you. you both bonded over the sexy farspace fleet hunks in their uniform that walked by you two. completely normal interactions. eventually you exchanged numbers and became inseparable ever since.

talia met you when you and your co-founder mark were giving a presentation on something regarding jet engines to the aerospace cadets in the university she was teaching in. 

and you met marina at the park on your walk. she came up to you to compliment your outfit and you hit it off. 

it was a solid group. your friendship is going 5+ years strong, and you couldn’t be any happier. you loved your girls, and you all pitched the sunday brunch idea for a way to reward yourselves for the hard week you all mightve had. it was a way to give thanks amongst yourselves, and you wanted nothing more than healthy interactions.

-

“soo theres this website thats taken off recently. its sorta like a blind date type of situation. you’re not allowed to put your real name on there, and you can either call or text– but if you call its a voice changer so the person doesnt know what you really sound like. its kind of cool actually. you write down your interest and you can match that way or you can leave it blank and match with someone completely random.” 

this prospect piques your interest the slightest. you listen intently as you sip your mimosa awaiting for stacia to continue, she notices your immediate interest and her evil ass grin widens, “something tells me this is perfect for our miss ceo.” – “i mean this is literally perfect for you. its like AA but dating.” 

caleb was resting in his bed when his roommates came in, rambunctious, as always. he loved his friends- dearly, but for the life of them, they had poor volume control. 

he groans turning his back to them, trying to continue his thoughts as one of them threw a pillow at him, “yo get up. you promised a game!” he laughs, as he grabs calebs arm off his head. caleb looks up at him, a sheepish grin as he reluctantly goes to join his friends in a game of basketball.

-

“theres some new website thats going around, some anonymous chat. we should try to find each other on it.” one of his friends mused, taking the ball from caleb. another one piques, “that sounds fun. whats it called?” – “whispr? just came out like a week ago.” 

caleb couldn’t help but agree that he should (for once) partake in this shenanigan his friends had suggested. he had been starting to feel lonely lately. unable to see his pipsqueak and gran, and always working so much in the aviation unit. it was tiring him out, but he really did enjoy the experience, and not to mention the pay was superb- especially the pay bump from the administration recently. 

the group plays for a couple more hours, before he breaks away from them. he wanted to go for a run before he retired for the night, just to clear his thoughts once more. he really couldn’t shake the feeling of sadness. he never understood why, hence, the plagued thoughts, but he did well to hide it. 

a mile into the run he stops, sweat beads falling from his face, his shirt wet with moisture, as he cools down he takes a slow walk, breathing in the air around him. he was in one of the districts of skyhaven. how he ended up here was beyond him, he was just running. 

as he walks he notices a couple with their children coming out of the store. it warmed his heart seeing the sight of. the little girl holding her dads hand, her little digits managing to barely envelope half his pinky. dressed in a cute pink dress with a tiara. the mom holding the girls other hand, and the babies treat in the other. they look both ways before crossing, and she bounces around, giggling all the way.

he wished that was him. he wanted kids so bad.

caleb shakes his head, smiling at the thought, and continuing his walk after that moment. he stops a moment, before checking his phone. his hand hovers over the app store, and types in ‘whispr’ on the search bar. he sucks a breath in. did it come this far that hes resorting to texting strangers? couldn’t he just text his beloved pipsqueak? she’s probably on a mission, or asleep. 

as he almost hits ‘back’ on his phone the app finishes installing, and he stares at it. ‘well.. fuck it i guess..’ he opens it and hes met with a purple screen

‘whispr - 83,358 online’ 

‘damn’ he clicks on the ‘create-a-profile’ tab and looks through the information, 

‘welcome to whispr. whispers from strangers– soft, mysterious, and personal. 

text random strangers, whether you have shared interests or just feeling up to randomly connecting with someone. feeling bold? call a stranger! but don’t worry, your voice is changed. you still retain your anonymity. we encourage everybody to keep their personal information hidden. you enjoyed the conversation? ask to remain mutuals! otherwise- chats disappear within 24 hours. do not give out information you do not want revealed. stay safe, take care, and thanks for using whispr!’ 

caleb shrugs, continuing through the second page, filling out his private information and starting his profile. 

you yawn and sprawl into your bed. you had the day off tomorrow and you were actually going to use it for once. you had already reserved yourself a spot at the salon to get a full body experience. mark had given you a gift card for the spa and you figured it was time to cash it in. 

you rolled around your bed, unable to sleep even if you were yawning every 5 seconds. as you give up your attempt to sleep you flip your phone up to your face, not even realizing you forgot about the app.

you quickly pull whispr up and finish putting your information in there. 

‘ space baby’ your randomly generated pops up, you hit ‘female’ on the tab.

there were a couple of features that stood out to you. the random room, and the interests box, that you could potentially match with if you had the same input .

you werent too keen on hitting random room. who knows what you’d get. you shudder at the aforementioned thought, annnnd tap it anyways. you wanted to get a good laugh.

ping! 

friendly bird:  hey  space baby:  hello  friendly bird:   a/s/l?  friendly bird: 24/m/linkon, u?

what the ever living fuck does that even mean? your brows furrow, and immediately skipping the guy. this might be more painful than you anticipated. you had to look it up. age, sex, location– something chat website goers liked to abide by. ah. perhaps you were a bit too harsh? 

you hit the randomizer again

ping! 

smart pug: hi! space baby: hello.  smart pug: how are you?  space baby: i’m good, how about yourself? smart pug: i’m awesome. first time? space baby: yup lol, how’d you know?

oh, maybe there were good and normal conversations here!

smart pug: everybodies lol. hey, are you into kinky roleplay?

nevermind.  skipped

‘chicken king: wanna meet up?’ skip

‘starfruit girl: sex rp?’ skip!

‘cake hero: u wanna trade numbers? im horny.’  SKIP!

you couldn’t help but laugh at how fucking silly the deliveries of some people are. you were actually having fun. you showed stacia a couple of the chats here and there, her howling with laughing, but you had enough. maybe trying the shared interest was a better idea.

you stare long and hard before putting down random shit that you liked. wine, food, movies, tv shows. 

you matched immediately with somebody, but same old shit. you realized impressive it wasthat down-bad people can redirect a conversation of eating some food to asking you to eat their dong. 

you were about to hang up the towel, before you looked at the shared interest one more time.

..

..

planes, aviation, jets

you nerd. you’re never going to match-

ping !

captain apple: hello there! space baby: hi

caleb laid there, staring at his phone, waiting for a match. he was getting endless invitations from horny people wanting to have a good time. he did admit that this would be a crazy site where the reckless acted upon their fantasies. he managed to find one of his roommates on the site before everybody called it a night. 

he too was going to call it a night before he was matched after 5 minutes of waiting. 

‘you’ve matched with space baby!’ he scrambles his fingers to the keyboard and starts to type.

captain apple: hello there! space baby: hi captain apple: you like planes? space baby: yes. do you like top gun?

caleb giggles to himself. giggled. 

captain apple: i feel the need..  space baby: the need for speed! lol! 

caleb felt giddy! they just started the conversation, and it was already a pleasant one. he stared at the heart button- the mutual buttons, but he stopped himself, before typing again

captain apple: what brings you on this website? space baby: friends told me about it, you? captain apple: same. we were bored– wanted to try and find each other on it. space baby: did you? captain apple: just one. theres a lot of people on today i think space baby: yeah there are lol. tbh i think this is interesting. i have had weirdos left and right, but you’re the first one that didn’t ask me for weird stuff. captain apple: haha no, not my type of thing. what else do you like?  space baby: hmm i like food, wine, and i love tv shows. what about you? captain apple: literally everything, except wine. not a wine guy, i don’t drink, and if i do, maybe beer i guess. whats your favorite food? space baby: ok true. i honestly love a good beef stew, or a good homemade braised chicken. that reminds me of home.

calebs eyes light up, especially at the mention of braised chicken. the only other person who likes that is-

space baby: oh no, did you disappear ! :( captain apple: no! sorry was grabbing something. i love braised chicken too actually haha, but my favorite is anything apple related tbh. i’ve been on an apple strudel kick lately.  space baby: ooh awesome, ill have to try!! whats your favorite movie or tv show? mine is top gun, and island love.. honestly any dating show. theyre so fun. captain apple: haha my favorite movie is also top gun and probably jurassic park. space baby: ooh i have never seen jurassic park. hmm.. favorite flavor of food? captain apple: apple stuff, and i like all spices/flavors…except cilantro.. space baby: haha, me too! tastes like soap for me. makes me so sad.

you and caleb are grinning, ear to ear, moving around your beds like love struck teenagers, pillow nestled in between your arms as you text away with each other. 

you were actually having so much fun with this person, that you didn’t notice it was after midnight. you frowned slightly, a little bummed, before you go back to text captain apple

space baby: hey captain, sorry to cut the convo short, but i’ve got to go to sleep. do you wanna be mutuals before i head off? 

caleb looked at the clock and damn near panicked. he had to be up early for PT, he quickly hit heart on the conversation and a pink heart bursts in the screen, followed by a ‘congrats! you are mutuals!’ 

captain apple: yeah no problem! have a good night. was nice meeting you space baby!

you exit the app, a huge grin on your face, as you settled down. you couldn’t help but try and envision who exactly captain apple was. 

[star-sim]

head over heels ☆ sunghoon park

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

reblogs and feedback is appreciated!

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

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

Clunk!

The man looked over his shoulder to where you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was because Sunghoon was Spider-Man. 

But you didn't have to know that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hoo!" Riki laughed. "Hoo!"

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

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

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

Sunghoon took the child.

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

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

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

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

Then, the three of you sat down to eat. 

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

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

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

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

"So, how was work?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened?"

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

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

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

Sunghoon frowned.

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

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

That's right, loved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon gazed at you.

How could he not resist falling in love with you?

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

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

"Shit— shit!" 

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

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

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

Uh-oh.

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon glanced at his phone.

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

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

Fuck it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Agh—!"

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

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

"S-Spiderman?!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Curse you, Spider-man!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ding!

Sunghoon slipped his phone out of his pocket.

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

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

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

sunghoon: yeah i'm safe

sunghoon: i just went out to get you more groceries

sunghoon: youre missing eggs and milk

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

But he did have to.

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

sunghoon: i'll be back in 10

sunghoon: go back to sleep

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

"Hoo!" 

Riki?

"Hoo, Hoo!"

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

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

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

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

You slinked over to Sunghoon and Riki. 

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

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

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

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

"Oh shit—!"

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

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

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

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

"Mama!" he argued back.

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

And cue the tears.

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

As Riki wailed, Sunghoon sighed, hoisting him up. 

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

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

Days with Riki were fun. 

And exhausting. 

But more fun than not.

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

Case and point: Sunghoon's dreadful baby voice.

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

So that's what Sunghoon did.

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

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

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

Riki laughed again, clapping his chubby hands. 

"I bet it does," Sunghoon rubbed his knuckle against Riki's cheek. 

"Hoo!" Riki babbled suddenly.

Sunghoon picked the baby up, placing him on his feet and turning him around so that Sunghoon could see his face. Placing his hands on Riki's side to stabilize him, Sunghoon hummed. "What's up?"

"Hoo!" Riki repeated again, making grabby hands up at him. "Ub! (Up!)"

"Aren't you a little too old for upsies?" Sunghoon asked Riki as if he wasn't one year old, but still complied, lifting the kid up and resting Riki's face on his shoulder. Riki really liked it when Sunghoon carried him around while he did stuff, probably because Sunghoon's height made it a thrilling experience for him.

Sunghoon really enjoyed Riki's presence, even if the kid liked to give him hell. 

Which was why he narrowed his eyes, looking around suspiciously as if you were there to catch him red-handed, before he tossed Riki’s small body into the air. 

If Riki was any other normal baby, he'd scream in fear. But he wasn't. So all Riki did was let out an excited squeal. Almost immediately, Sunghoon shot a web at him, yanking him down from the air and into his arms in an instant.

"You better not tell your mother," Sunghoon booped Riki's nose as the baby clapped his hands, giggling. "She'll kick my ass if she knew that I was throwing you around."

And she'd also beat my ass if she knew that I was Spider-Man.

Speaking of which...

Sunghoon knew better than anyone how you felt about Spider-Man.

In short, you hated him. You hated Spider-Man, and you almost never failed to let Sunghoon know that.

You had a pretty simple reason: even if Spider-Man was a crime-fighter, the way that he was publicized made him more like a celebrity than a public servant. Because of this, people chose to commit more crime in the hopes of getting some sort of attention, which completely defeated the purpose of having a crime-fighter like Spider-Man.

Sunghoon was mere weeks into his job as Spider-Man, in the middle of bandaging up the cut on his hand that he got from fighting crime, when you suddenly barged into your apartment, throwing your bag aside as you exasperatedly began ranting about how a run-in with Spider-Man caused complete and utter hell for you when you commuted back from work. 

Many months later you still carried that sentiment.

And if he had to be honest, Sunghoon had to agree with you.

It wasn't like he detested being Spider-Man. After all, it paid his bills and allowed him to watch over you and make sure that you were safe. But, still, he wasn't a fan of the media coverage.

All he wanted to do was protect you and Riki. Was that too much to ask for?

Would Sunghoon ever tell you that he was Spider-Man? Probably not. Would you be mad at him for being Spider-Man? Probably. But would you shun him? Maybe for a month, but not any longer. Still, Sunghoon wasn't afraid of going no-contact with you for a month. It was the fear of disappointing you and losing your trust.

He'd rather die than lose your trust!

But sometimes it was difficult to conceal his identity.

Like right now.

The day went on as per usual: Sunghoon played around more with Riki, before taking him to daycare. Then, Sunghoon went to do his Spider-Man activities, before picking Riki up again. It was the end of a stressful week, so you came home early and announced that you made dinner plans for the three of you.

And that's how Sunghoon found himself sitting in a fancy dimly-lit restaurant. Across from him sat you, wearing a dress that made him stare at you for a little longer than he should have. 

Maybe it was the jazz music playing in the background, or the way that your gloss-laden lips clung to the delicate glass of champagne that you swished in your hand, but Sunghoon couldn't take his eyes off of you. 

Thanks to the fact that Riki was sitting at the table with his baby high-chair, two of the waiting staff had already mistaken you and Sunghoon for a married couple. Not that Sunghoon minded. And it didn't seem like you minded either, because all you did was throw your head back with a laugh and clutch Sunghoon's arm.

In fact, if Sunghoon had to be honest, you've been confusing him lately.

Or maybe he was confusing himself.

Because he swore that your eyes have been lingering on him lately, running over his figure from time to time before you cracked that little smug grin on your face— the type of grin that made Sunghoon shrink into himself. You've been touchier, holding his arm in the crook right in between your chest, almost like you knew that it would make him nervous. You began picking up this habit of looking at his lips, then gazing back up at his eyes, before licking your own lips with a smile. It was driving him crazy.

Why was he feeling this way?

And more importantly, why were you torturing him like this? You were a mother, you were someone well-respected and feared in your workplace because of your sheer ability to read people. You knew your effect on people, so you must know what you were doing to him. Right?

"Sunghooooon," you sang, resting your face on your hands, propped up in a way that made it impossible to ignore how good you looked tonight. Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes quivering over to you. "What're you thinking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "Nothing."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching across the table to gently hit his hand. "Don't lie to me. I know when there's something on your mind."

"Lie!" Riki giggled, repeating your words like a little parrot. "Lie! Lie!"

"See?" you ruffled your son's hair. "Even Riki agrees. What's up?"

Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but he was distracted when you reached for your glass of sparkly champagne once more, bringing it up to your lips. 

"What?" you cocked a brow at him as he stared at you. "We drank with each other last night. What's so surprising about me drinking right now?"

Sunghoon gulped. 

You were scary like that, always so straightforward. It made him piss himself, but it also made him want to melt into a pile of mush. 

"It's nothing." He cleared his throat. "I'm just stressed about work."

"Awww," you frowned. "What happened?"

Sunghoon was talking straight out of his ass, because you reached over the table, beginning to play with his hands. Your eyes were trained on the shapes that you drew on his palms, but you hummed from time to time as words tumbled out of his mouth.

You had to be doing this on purpose.

It was weird, because Sunghoon never felt this way around you. What he felt toward you was quiet, something that was a basic fact to him. But now, all he could do was watch as you fed Riki airplane-style, making funny airplane engine noises as your baby laughed, trying to calm the beating of his heart.

Why did you have so be so attractive? Why was he feeling so warm?

It was a peaceful dinner, save for the war beginning to bubble inside of Sunghoon.

That was, until a loud crash rang through the restaurant. Then, there were whispers, car sirens, and at last, shrieking. The jazz music stopped as a hush fell over the restaurant. 

Your first instinct was to take Riki out of his high-chair and into your arms, so you did that.

But the moment that you brought your eyes up to where Sunghoon should have been, he was gone.

Like, absolutely gone.

His seat was empty. His plate of food, as fell as his folded cloth napkin and silver cutlery, were left exactly as you last remembered. Sunghoon simply disappeared all of a sudden.

But before you could even say his name, another crash rang through the restaurant as someone screeched, "Giganto!"

Giganto was a self-proclaimed supervillain on the rise. The last time that you heard about him was a few months ago, when he tried to pull off some stupid scheme to take down Spider-Man. It was a pathetic attempt. But now he was back, with admittedly impressive equipment and a nasty spandex suit.

Based on your understanding of the layout of the restaurant, it seems like the front portion of it was crashed into. Which meant that the front entrance was 100% not an option. 

And that became even more apparent to you when Giganto, in his pink spandex glory, began cackling villainously, announcing his arrival. What he said in his very unnecessary villain monologue was unknown to you, because you were too distracted by Riki, who was beginning to tear up in fear.

"Shh, shh," you held your son against your shoulder, your hand coming up to cup his ear. You pressed kisses on his face, petting his hair in an attempt to calm him down. "Baby, Baby it's okay. We're okay. Don't cry, Mama's here—"

"Run!" someone shrieked as another contraption began prowling into the restaurant. It was massive and made of some metal, some sort of machine that Giganto probably made to assert his dominance. It didn't matter to you. What did matter was the two people that you cared about: Riki, and.... hey, where's Sunghoon?

Your feet were just about to start moving when your eyes glazed over Sunghoon's still-empty seat. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Sunghoon?" you said to yourself, your eyes wide as they flickered around the slowly-crumbling restaurant for any familiar sign of your best friend. "Sunghoon!"

"Hoo!" Riki cried out.

You couldn't find him, amidst all the dust and hoards of people running past you.

You felt Riki's tears wet your shoulder.

You had to get out of here, if you wanted to save yourself and Riki.

But Sunghoon...

If you did not start running now, you would die. Riki would die.

I'm sorry, Sunghoon, you squeezed your eyes shut, before your feet picked up. You ran, you ran as fast as you could, trying your best to ignore your motherly instinct to stop and kiss Riki as he wailed. You didn't even realize it until your face was wet that you, too, were crying.

It could be fear, it could be uncertainty, it could be because your own son was sobbing. Or maybe it was guilt. Guilt because you could have waited for Sunghoon, but didn't.

Guilt, because you made it out of the crumbling restaurant, but Sunghoon did not.

Guilt, because you left your best friend to die.

You didn't know how long you ran, but you ran far enough that you could no longer hear the helicopters and screaming, only your and Riki's sniffles.

"Shhh," you shakily consoled Riki, rubbing circles on his back, doing your best to ignore the weight on your chest. "It's okay, Baby. We're okay."

But you knew you weren't. Not after what happened back there.

How could you abandon him back there, when he's done everything for you? How could you do him like that, as if he wasn't the sole reason that you weren't dead in a ditch right now? You were a horrible friend, and an even worse person for letting that happen.

All of a sudden, you were lifted off your feet. Literally. One moment you were walking under a streetlight, the next you were in the air.

"S-Spider-Man?!"

With one hand wrapped tightly around Riki, your other hand came up to grip the hero's bicep. Your stomach did flips as you looked down, seeing the city beneath you.

"Hey there," his voice was solemn.

"Where the—" you squeezed your eyes shut as you peered down— "Where the hell are you taking us?"

You felt Spider-Man tense under your touch, almost like he was wincing.

"I-I'm taking you home."

Your eyes narrowed. 

Was it normal for a superhero to be stuttering as they save a civilian?

"And you're taking me home because you know where I live? How?" You felt bad for being so cold, for being so incredibly frigid toward him, but you couldn't let your guard down. Not when you were 100 meters in the air holding your son. Not when you already lost Sunghoon back there.

"I don't," Spider-Man quipped quickly. It was now that you noticed the cut on his shoulder, with dark red blood seeping out and exposing his skin. "Will you show me the way?"

You glanced down at Riki, who was now beginning to fall asleep. He was unlike you in the way that he liked thrill, even when he was just a little baby

You couldn’t say that you were happy with who Spider-Man was, but you were not going to reject the help he was giving you right now. Not when your son was on the line.

You huffed. “Make a turn right here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spider-Man muttered.

You did not know why, but it seemed like the sound of the hero’s voice made Riki stir.

“Hoo,” Riki babbled sleepily. “Hoo…”

Sunghoon.

Again, you felt Spider-Man tense.

“My friend…” you began, swallowing your pride. “His name is Sunghoon. I-I couldn’t find him back there.”

Spider-Man hummed.

“Can you… I mean— Do you think you can look for him? I’m really worried.

Spider-Man gazed at you, looking at you with his masked face. For some reason, you thought that he was grinning behind the mask, and you almost began shouting at him. But the hero only nodded, saying, “I promise you that he’s safe, Ma’am.”

You looked at him pensively, doubt painted across your expression as you chewed on your lip.

“But if it makes you feel better I’ll look for him.”

You nodded slowly, still doubtful.

The rest of the trip to your apartment is quiet.

Sunghoon 100% expected you to start yelling at him the moment he appeared in your apartment doorway. And he 100% was going to smile through all thirty minutes of it.

“You’re so fucking stupid, why did you disappear like that?! Do you know how much that scared me?! I thought I lost you and you died, Oh my God you’re so fucking annoying, I was losing my mind—“

Sunghoon was laughing at you as you lightly punched his arms, his sharp canine teeth peeking through, when he noticed the glassy sheen over your eyes. 

You had tears in your eyes, hot tears that you were blinking back as worried words spilled from your lips. Immediately, Sunghoon stopped his laughing, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

He was happy that you cared about him so much, unable to hide the way his lips still pulled upwards as you pressed your face into his chest.

It was late at night by now. Riki was already sound asleep. There was something about the way you sobbed in his arms that warmed his heart, that someone as strong as you would allow him the privilege of seeing you tremble. 

"I didn't know you cared so much, [Name]," Sunghoon teased. He expected you to hit him again, tell him to shut up, and maybe bite back a laugh, but all you did was shake your head.

"No," you murmured against his shirt. "I failed you."

"What're you talking about?" Sunghoon squeezed your shoulder. "You didn't fail anyone."

"No..." you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging onto Sunghoon even harder. You stayed like that for a little bit, simply holding the man in your arms like he'd disappear. Then, you pulled away, letting your gaze meet his. "I... I ran away when I should have waited for you."

Sunghoon only stared at you confused.

You licked your lips, your expression pinching. "I-I got scared so I ran, I ran so far away a-and—" you let out a heavy breath, pushing your face into your hands— "I-I'm such a shitty friend, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon blinked.

.

.

.

Oh!

Sunghoon remembered now, the way he disappeared from the face of earth the moment that disaster struck. One moment he was trying to breathe when you looked at him, the next he was in a tight spandex suit. 

Of course you had to 'abandon' him. Sunghoon was Spider-Man! There was no way that you would be able to stay back to wait for him.

It should be easy to explain to you, that you could not have possibly been at fault, because the situation was already imbalanced to begin with.

But there was just one little problem!

How was Sunghoon going to explain this to you without revealing that he's Spider-Man?

Sunghoon pulled his lip between his teeth, unable to hide the awkward-panicked expression painting itself on his features as you cried into his shoulder.

Curse you for being such a caring person, he sucked in a sharp breath. 

He didn't like seeing you cry, so he needed to dig himself out of this one soon.

What the hell was he supposed to say now?

"D-Don't cry," Sunghoon's lips moved on their own. "It's not your fault."

"It is though!" you cried.

"No..." Sunghoon let his panic mode take over. Quick, he needed to make something up. "I-I... It was my fault. I.. uhh..."

The man's eyes darted over to the kitchen, where in the rack lay plates, bowls, and Riki's baby utensils.

Ah, Riki.

It was a small inside joke between Sunghoon and you that Riki was always gassy. After all, he was a baby.

"I needed to use the bathroom really badly," Sunghoon swallowed all his pride. "A-And I was there the entire time... because it was really bad."

You pulled away from him, taking a look at his face. If it wasn't for the awkward topic at hand, you'd call out how uncomfortable he looked. Your brows furrowed, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "There was no way that you could have waited for me... I was in the bathroom the entire time..."

"Doing what?"

"You know..." Sunghoon felt his face warm up. "Doin' my business..."

"Oh."

.

.

.

Sunghoon wanted the floor to open up below him and eat him whole, because within seconds, your distressed, pained crying face melted into a massive smile. You threw your head back, your eyes crinkling into thin crescents, sweet laughs mixed with sniffles spilling out of your lips.

Sunghoon stood there, ears and cheeks pink, with his dignity shattered in his hands. He wanted to die, yes, but it made him feel better than you were no longer crying, just laughing. He couldn't help but feel a grin grow on his face.

"I'm sorry, Sunghoon," you squeezed his shoulders, wiping your eyes-- tears not from crying earlier but from laughing so hard. The way you brought your hand up to ruffle his hair, a reassuring smile on your face, made Sunghoon feel like a child, only furthering his embarrassment. "I didn't mean to laugh."

Sunghoon's lips pulled downward, forming an unintentional pout.

"Awww," you patted his head even more, "I appreciate your honesty. It takes a lot of courage to admit that."

It was definitely hard to stay embarrassed when you were so gentle about it, reassuring him every other sentence that you weren't judging him.

Sure, Sunghoon just embarrassed himself in front of you, but it was better than having to see you cry over something that you had no agency over to begin with.

Anything for you.

"Papa!"

"R-Riki, I'm not your-"

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now!

It was another afternoon of looking after Riki. 

Riki just got back from daycare, and took a long and cozy nap. Sunghoon shook him awake an hour later. However, instead of Riki's wide owlish eyes blinking a few times before recognizing Sunghoon's face, exclaiming "Hoo!" as he always did, Riki seemed to learn a new word.

"Papa!"

Papa.

Riki knew the word mama. Of course he did, he knew you.

However, from the beginning, Riki never knew his own legal father, Taehyun. Sure, Taehyun dropped by ever-so-often, but he was no more than a stranger to Riki than a random person on the street.

Riki never says papa. 

But now he just called Sunghoon papa.

Sunghoon had been spending the past 10 minutes trying to get Riki to call him Hoo again, but it seemed like nothing would work.

Sunghoon held both of Riki's tiny hands.

"I'm Hoo," Sunghoon said slowly. "Say it to me, Riki. Say Hoo."

"H.... H..." Riki began.

"That's right, you're almost there."

"H...H..." Riki's expression pinched. "Papa!"

"No!"

Truth be told, Sunghoon wanted to cry.

Riki calling him Papa and basically recognizing him as his father figure? The thought of it made Sunghoon tear up already.

He always tried his best to be there for you and Riki. To say that you and Riki were the joys of his life would be an understatement; Sunghoon did everything, even undertaking sketchy hero jobs, for the sake of you two. It wasn't like he expected anything in exchange. In fact, Sunghoon didn't even expect to be considered part of the family.

"Papa!"

"Riki..." Sunghoon's chest tightened at the little proud smile painted across Riki's face. "Riki, I'm not your—"

Ding dong! the doorbell rang. 

Leaving Riki on the couch, Sunghoon opened the door without a thought.

Big mistake.

Because the person standing loud and proud at the door was the worst person that Sunghoon could think of.

"T-Taehyun?"

Taehyun Kang, the legal father of Riki, and also your slightly-obsessed ex-boyfriend.

Sunghoon gave Taehyun a once-over. Taehyun was dressed in a crisp dress-shirt, almost as if he was dressed up for a date. He held a bouquet of flowers, his hair slicked back neatly. 

The moment that Taehyun's eyes fell upon Sunghoon, his eyes narrowed, something that wasn't surprising. You and Taehyun dated for a few years, and during those years you were friends with Sunghoon, too. Taehyun was always malicious towards Sunghoon, something that both you and Sunghoon never understood.

Sunghoon was in love with you, yes, and that love extended to respecting you and your relationships. He never did anything in all the years that you were with Taehyun.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyun spat.

"I'm—"

Taehyun pushed past Sunghoon, stepping through the doorway. "Whatever, where's [Name]?"

"She's—"

"Papa!"

Shit.

Taehyun perked up at the sound of Riki's voice, rushing to the living room and throwing the bouquet aside. Taehyun scooped Riki up into his arms as he coddled him dramatically, exclaiming, "Why didn't you tell me he learned that word?"

Sunghoon's heart sank. Was it bad that he felt a twinge of jealousy? Maybe Riki said papa and thought of Taehyun and not him. After all, Taehyun was supposed to be his father, not Sunghoon. But still. Did Taehyun spend nearly every waking minute with Riki? Did Taehyun put in any effort to spend time with Riki, other than a visit every three months? Has Taehyun ever even changed Riki's diapers? Brush his teeth? Make him breakfast?

Sunghoon felt his blood boil as Taehyun pranced around your apartment— the apartment that he had no right to claim— with Riki in his arms, saying that he was anything close to being Riki's papa.

"Tae!" Sunghoon could hear Riki exclaim from the other room.

"No, Riki," Taehyun said. "You said it earlier. I'm papa."

"Tae!"

"Say Papa, Riki."

"P... P.... Tae!"

Taehyun barged back into the living room, where Sunghoon sat patiently. The moment that Riki saw Sunghoon's face, he cried, "Papa!"

"He just said it again!" Taehyun was bright, but his face fell the moment that he saw Riki's grabby hands at Sunghoon, coupled with the way that Riki squirmed in his hold. Taehyun whipped his head around. He pointed an accusatory finger at Sunghoon. "You!"

"Papa!" Riki said, this time smiling brightly at Sunghoon, something that he hadn't done once at Taehyun.

Sunghoon couldn't help but bask in the sick satisfaction he felt, but he hid it under a scowl. "What?"

"You're stealing my family," Taehyun claimed, his expression painted with anger. 

"I'm not," Sunghoon said calmly.

"You think I'm stupid?" Taehyun pressed, placing Riki down. "I know that you've been in love with [Name] since the beginning, and just because me and her are on a break, you think that you can just swoop in and play Prince Charming."

"I—"

"No, I know!" Taehyun raised his voice. Riki hated it when people raised their voice, silently cowering into himself. Taehyun would have known that if he put any ounce of effort into Riki. "I don't know what you did to Riki, to make him think that you're his father, but it's fucked up. You're fucked up. You will never be a part of this family."

Sunghoon stayed silent for a few moments. The air was tense, so silent that the only audible sound was the sound of Riki's breath.

Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath.

"What's Riki's favorite color?" was all he said.

"W-What?"

"I asked," Sunghoon looked at Taehyun boredly. "What's Riki's favorite color?"

Taehyun's eyebrows crashed together. "Why does that matter?"

"You're his dad, aren't you?" Sunghoon said simply. "You should know."

Taehyun's expression stayed scrunched together, but no words fell from his lips.

That's right, he doesn't fucking know.

"It's black." Sunghoon got up to where Riki was, scooping him up into his arms, to which Riki giggled and exclaimed Papa! quietly. "Did you know that Riki needs to hold a stuffed toy to sleep? Did you know that his favorite one is a stuffed dog named Bisco? Did you know that Riki's favorite song is Beat It by Michael Jackson?"

Sunghoon stroked Riki's hair, relishing in the way Taehyun dug his nails into his palms, his ears burning red. "Taehyun, what's Riki's dominant hand?"

Taehyun gulped. "Isn't he right-handed?"

"Nope," Sunghoon couldn't hide the satisfied grin on his face. "He's left-handed. In fact, he is allergic to the chrysanthemums that you brought over there."

The room went silent for a few more pulses.

"I might not be Riki's father, but you aren't either," Sunghoon said calmly, strolling over to the front door. "Please get out."

Taehyun never left quicker (and he took the flowers, too).

The apartment was quiet again.

Sunghoon didn't know how to feel.

He would be lying if he said that Taehyun's words didn't get to him. 

But Sunghoon also felt anger and satisfaction. Taehyun had no right to call himself a part of your family. He made you suffer, both in the past and now. He was a shitty co-parent and an even shittier dad to Riki. Sunghoon hoped that Taehyun understood his place now.

"Papa..." Riki murmured as he crawled toward Sunghoon, nuzzling his cheek into Sunghoon's hand that came up to cup his face.

"That's right," Sunghoon whispered. "Papa's here."

The day went on as normal after that fiasco.

At least, that's what Sunghoon thought.

Because after putting Riki to bed, you led Sunghoon into your bedroom.You locked the door, making Sunghoon gulp.

The serious expression on your face, and the way that you crossed your arms over your chest, freaked him out.

"Sit down." And he did so immediately, sitting his ass down on the bed the moment those words left your lips.

Sunghoon felt like he was a child about to be scolded. He chewed on his bottom lip, wringing his fingers as he carefully watched your standing figure.

"I got a call from Taehyun earlier," you said, your back turned to him.

Shit.

"Said that you were being disrespectful and brainwashing Riki." Sunghoon gulped as you glanced over your shoulder, your eyebrow cocked. "Care to explain?"

"I... I..." Sunghoon's mouth felt dry as he scrambled to gather words. "R-Riki started calling me p... papa, and Taehyun thought that I was brainwashing Riki into thinking that I was his dad, or something..."

You clicked your tongue, about to say something, but Sunghoon continued.

"I just— I just told him that he should be around more if he wanted... if he wanted Riki to call him papa," he added quickly, a grimace falling upon his expression, wincing with the way you took a deep breath.

Did Sunghoon overstep boundaries? It wasn't like you loved Taehyun— in fact you've been done with him for a while now— but it was an irrefutable fact that Taehyun was there before Sunghoon. Was Sunghoon wrong in thinking that he was even a part of your family? Was he getting ahead of himself? What if both you and Riki saw Taehyun as Riki's father figure and not him?

"Hey," Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when you put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. I'm not mad at you."

"Y-You aren't?"

You scoffed. "Of course not."

You rubbed your temples. "I'm more mad at Taehyun for barging in and causing a ruckus. Did he say anything else?"

"He said..." Sunghoon bit down on his bottom lip. Should he tell you this? "Never mind."

Your brows furrowed, pressing further. "What did he say?"

You sat down beside Sunghoon on the bed, noticing the way a deep frown painted itself on his features. You took his hand into yours, squeezing it. "I'm on your side, Sunghoon. I won't be mad."

Sunghoon licked his lips. "Just that... I will never be a part of your family."

He continued before you could respond. "I don't think I am... It just bothered me a little bit."

Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.

Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.

"You don't think that you're a part of this family?" you asked, your voice quiet. Sunghoon could hear the hurt in your voice.

"I..." You aren't going to bite, you never do. "I'd like to be... but it's not my place to say whether or not I am."

You clicked your tongue, anger rising in your tone. "And it's Taehyun's place to?"

"W-Well—"

"When has he ever done anything for this family?" your voice was filled with indignation, but your hands stayed gentle in his hair. "Taehyun will never be even half the man that you are, Sunghoon. He'll never do any of the things that you do, and that's because he's dead to this family."

You patted Sunghoon's cheek, making him look up at you. Your gaze softened, your lips curving up as you gazed at Sunghoon's wide, dark eyes. They were shiny, almost glossy, as if he was tearing up. "And I think Riki calling you papa is a testament to how much you mean to me and him. You're our family, Sunghoon."

The room was silent again. You and Sunghoon stayed like that, gazing at each other for what felt like years. 

You felt all types of emotions, the main one being sheer anger. Who did Taehyun think he was? And even more importantly, how dare he take his audacity and hurt Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was your savior, he really was. You had no idea what you would do without him.

Watching as he tried to discreetly wipe the tears in his eyes, you threw your head back, letting a few chuckles fall from your lips.

His earnesty, how willing he was to help, and his sensitive side were all things that you cherished about him; they were all things that made you fall in love with him.

You don't know when it happened, or when you realized that you, in fact, loved your best friend, but it didn't matter that much. 

It didn't help that Sunghoon was so painfully obvious. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you weren't stupid. You noticed Sunghoon staring at you for a little longer than he should, the way he got nervous whenever you touched him. It was adorable.

If you had less self-control, you would have grabbed Sunghoon's face and kissed him so hard that he'd see stars. After all, for all the little things you did in the hopes of driving him crazy, his wide eyes staring at you like you were some god drove you crazy.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to loosen up a bit. 

After all, Sunghoon had to endure Taehyun and the trouble that he brought. He took it like a champ. 

He deserved a kiss, didn't he? For everything that he's done for you, for all the trouble that he's gone through. You figured he deserved a reward.

Slowly, you brushed Sunghoon's bangs away from his face, exposing his forehead. His shiny eyes followed you as you readjusted your position so that you laid beside him.

"[Name]?" his voice was a small whisper. God, you just wanted to eat him up.

You hummed, as you leaned closer to him. Sunghoon watched with fluttering eyes and a beating heart. Your face was inching so close to his that he was sure that you could hear how hard his heart was beating. 

Was it just him, or was it getting hot in here?

Sunghoon's stomach did a flip at the way you gazed at him with lidded eyes, your beautiful lips parted. Oh, if the sky didn't part open and swallow him whole right now. You were so close, so close that he could feel your breath on his cheek.

If you didn't pull away now, Sunghoon thought that his fingers, which were now getting sticky with webs that came out when he couldn't control his nerves, would shoot actual webs.

"Sunghoon," you finally said, your hand coming up to gently guide his face, making him look straight at you. He faltered under your gaze. 

"Y-Yes?"

There, you did it again— that thing where you glanced down at his lips for a few moments, before flickering back up to his eyes with a slight, smug grin. You were driving him crazy.

"Can I kis—"

Knock knock!

"Mama! Papa!"

Both you and Sunghoon immediately pulled away from each other, sitting up. You rushed to your bedroom door, opening it to find a tearful Riki (with Bisco his stuffed dog) in hand. You were quick to scoop him up, though you noticed the awkward expression on Sunghoon's face.

"What?"

How could you act like nothing happened?

"I-I—" Sunghoon stammered, his face bright red and his hair disheveled. He couldn't hide his disappointment now that you weren't close to him anymore.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Calm down, you dork."

With that, you left the room to go comfort your son, leaving Sunghoon alone, his mind fried and his cheeks pink.

Except, you came back within a few moments, this time without Riki.

With one hand, you grabbed Sunghoon's shoulder. With the other, you took his face, taking the poor man by surprise. Gently, you pressed your lips onto the corner of his lips, placing down a soft, chaste kiss.

It was a short, innocent kiss, one that barely lasted a second.

But Sunghoon froze, his mind filled with nothing but you, you, you.

"Happy now?" you rasped against the shell of his ear before pulling away. You chuckled at the way Sunghoon watched you with eyes as big as saucers, his entire face and neck now red, so warm that you could feel it radiating off of him.

That was scary about you, how you could read him so easily. You had him in the palms of your hands, ready to eat him up and play with him like he was putty.

You got up to leave, but when you got to the doorway, you stopped. You turned over your shoulder, a sly grin spread across your face.

"By the way, Sunghoon," you purred. "You should probably come quick. Riki just had a nightmare. Think he needs both mama and papa."

Shit, you were going to kill him.

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now.

Why did Sunghoon agree to this?!

A few days ago, DK told Sunghoon about an absolutely appalling opportunity: a Spider-Man meet-and-greet.

Sunghoon didn't know what sick person had this idea, but he reluctantly agreed.

And that's how he found himself on a Saturday afternoon sitting at a Spider-Man fan convention. He could be at home, spending time with you and Riki, but no, he's here taking pictures with little kids. 

A few kids already spilt their juice and slushies on him. Mothers shoved their babies in his face, while squealing middle schoolers took the most indiscreet pictures of him. It was hot, and Sunghoon was getting tired of putting on his customer-service voice.

Just as Sunghoon was about to sigh for the nth time that afternoon, he spotted two familiar faces in line.

Yours and Riki's.

You looked annoyed, maybe just as annoyed as Sunghoon was feeling, while Riki had the brightest smile on his face.

When he realized that you and Riki were in line to meet him, Sunghoon tried his best to speed through all the pleasantries and selfies.

And at last, you were up next.

"Hi, Spider-Man," you said quietly through gritted teeth. It was obvious that you were only here because of Riki.

"Hi, ma'am," Sunghoon said as curtly as possible.

Your face scrunched, unable to hide your disdain for Sunghoon as Spider-Man. 

"Uh, this is Riki, my son," you said, carefully handing your son over to the hero. You sighed, reluctantly taking out your phone to snap a few pictures. "Riki really loves your work."

"Smile for the picture, Riki!" you said, and that's the only time that you've smiled in the past ten minutes.

And then, the worst words tumbled out of Riki's mouth.

"Papa!"

Um.

What?

Sunghoon should have known. Last time, when he was carrying you and Riki through the sky, Riki recognized him as "Hoo" almost immediately.

And now, it seemed like Riki could still recognize him, this time as papa.

Sunghoon tensed up, and he froze up even more when Riki began to snuggle up against his blue and red - clad chest, giggling, "Papa!"

You looked horrified, your mouth agape and your brows knitted together.

"I-I'm so sorry, Spider-Man," you stammered, taking Riki back into your arms. "I don't know what's gotten into him."

"It's— ahem— fine," Sunghoon quipped. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

Sunghoon found himself frowning the entire time, until he checked his phone.

[name]: spiderman wants to be you so bad 

[name]: riki called him papa

[name]: sorry but youre the only papa i know

He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Sunghoon has been acting strange.

You knew it better than anyone else. 

It all started after another city-wide crisis. Giganto, the mad supervillain that Spider-Man's been fighting with for months, spread some contaminant in the water supply. This could have been avoided if Spider-Man just left the city, but alas, a few people had to be hospitalized. After that, the city's crime rate ran up the walls.

It wasn't difficult to notice it, the way Sunghoon's face scrunched up like he was deep in thought more often than not, the way he was quick to object you going out to the convenience store after dark, the way that he disappeared for a few hours at a time, suspiciously aligning with news reports, and most noticeably, the way that Sunghoon winced every time that you named Spider-Man.

You weren't stupid. In fact, you couldn't tell if you could just read Sunghoon well, or if he was just horrible at hiding how he felt.

As of now, you had a few suspicions, but all of them centered around one thing: Sunghoon had some affiliation with Spider-Man. He had to have, it was the only thing that made sense.

"I really don't think you should, [Name]," Sunghoon reasoned with you one night, his hands buried in his hair. 

"Why not?" Tonight, you wanted to test the waters even more. Sunghoon seemed to get antsy whenever you went out at night alone. "I'm just going to get groceries. We ran out of eggs."

You had your back turned to him as you jammed your feet into your shoes, but you listened closely to the worry in his voice.

"I-I can go get it tomorrow morning," he stumbled over his words. 

"What difference does that make?" you pressed. "Eggs that I buy at night are the same as eggs that you buy in the morning."

You reached for the door. "I'll be back in 20, promise."

You didn't know what switch flipped, but it seemed like as the door hinges turned, Sunghoon reached for your hand so fast that you didn't even see him moving. Has he always been that fast?

His grip was firm.

"I'll go with you," Sunghoon said solemnly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Suit yourself."

That was your tactic, pushing Sunghoon's limit until he had no choice but to take action. 

He was iffy about you going out at night, so you made sure to do it more often. Each time, he insisted that he went with you. It was funny, because he'd follow you like a guard dog, so willing to fight anyone that even so much as looked in your direction.

"Relax, it's just some kid."

"He looked at you funny."

"He looks like he's nine years old. He is not an assailant."

"But he can be."

You didn’t mind that Sunghoon wanted to go with you. It gave you an excuse to hold his hand, and snuggle up against his side in the cold hair. Sometimes, he’d give you his jacket, and you got to be engulfed in his scent. As long as you got to spend time with him, you figured that you didn't mind.

It was now that you realized just how strong Sunghoon was. He carried bags of groceries like it was nothing, and when you and him kicked pebbles along the sidewalk, he kicked his pebble with such minimal effort, yet it still somehow flung across the street at lightning speed.

But along with sticking with you at night, he texted you a lot more during the day, asking if you were okay. Did he think that you wouldn't notice?

What threw you off even more was when he randomly caught a fly with his bare hands, crushing the poor thing right between his fingertips like it was nothing. Since when did he have such precision?

Sunghoon has been acting strange, and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at his phone screen for what felt like the millionth time this week. 

It was noon now, Riki was at daycare and you were at work. 

It was no secret that the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. Sunghoon found himself fighting crime after crime, nearly blowing his cover multiple times.

As Sunghoon swung from building to building, he gazed down at the cityscape. It was still early in the day. He could see school children playing ball, laughing as if there wasn't a robbery just down the street. Businessmen in crisp suits pranced around the sidewalks like they owned the place, while public transitters waited around for the bus.

It was still crazy to him, how any one of these people could be the next person that he had to fatefully stop from committing a crime. 

The only good things about being Spider-Man, at this rate, was that he could easily watch over you throughout the day and that he could help people. If he got another microphone shoved in his face, Sunghoon might become the criminal.

"Are you serious?!" Sunghoon couldn't help but exclaim as he peered over the ledge. 

He was on his daily patrol, checking alleyways and stopping muggers, when he spotted a child, no older than ten, getting robbed. 

Seriously? A child?

Sunghoon sighed.

"Oi!" Sunghoon shouted as he swung down, extending his leg so that he could land an easy kick on the assailant's cheek. Maybe Sunghoon put a little too much force, because he swore he heard a cracking noise. As he landed, he made sure to stand in front of the child, shielding him from the assailant.

"Hey man," Sunghoon said smoothly, yet even through his masked face his contempt was apparent. "You realize this kid is like seven, right? Stop trying to rob children."

The assailant groaned in pain, still keeled over on the ground, so Sunghoon took that moment to usher the child away, leaving the two in the alleyway. 

The assailant was holding his nose, and that was when Sunghoon realized that he was bleeding.

He looked up at Sunghoon angrily, stumbling to his feet. "You broke my nose!"

Sunghoon shrugged. "You attack children. What about it?"

The assailant growled angrily, fumbling with the knife in his pocket as he charged toward Sunghoon.

Sunghoon sighed, rolling his eyes.

With the amount of media coverage Spider-Man got, he would expect people to understand by now that attacking him head-on was just impossible. Every single headline boasted about Spider-Man's super-human abilities, yet here people were, acting dumb as fuck.

Almost like Sunghoon could see movement in slow-motion, mere milliseconds before his assailant collided with him, he shot a web at the wall, flinging himself up to the wall. 

"C'mon man," Sunghoon taunted. "You're faster than that."

Before the man could respond, Sunghoon swung down and kicked him in the abdomen. He tried to get back up and land a stab at Sunghoon, but alas, he was too slow.

"I'm serious," Sunghoon chuckled, but behind his mask he was completely blank-faced, nearly bored. "You need to be a little faster if you wanna catch up to me."

With one more kick to the stomach, the man was down for good. Sunghoon dialed the police, and with that, he left.

Because he had witnessed a child get mugged earlier, Sunghoon's first instinct was to check up on Riki's daycare.

Sure, Riki was basically a baby, but the thought of a child being attacked made Sunghoon a little worried for him.

In fact, the thought of Riki being in danger made Sunghoon worried about you. Should he go check up on your office too?

Sunghoon's sure that you've noticed by now, how increasingly nervous he got about your safety. At first, he tried to conceal it better, but it got harder as crime increased.

If Sunghoon had superhuman levels of hearing, his ability to identify your voice from miles away must have been god tier.

Sunghoon clung to the walls of your office building, pressing his chest against the hard brick in order to not be as obvious. Stealthily crawling against the wall, Sunghoon finally found the window right where your office was.

Peering inside, Sunghoon could see that you were talking with one of your colleagues. You were smiling, laughing from time to time. It must have been a friendly conversation.

Sunghoon pressed his ear against the wall, letting his enhanced hearing do the work for him.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?" your colleague asked, leaning on your desk.

You hummed, typing away and half-listening. "I'm spending time with my family."

Your colleague smiled. "You and Riki?"

You shook your head absent-mindedly. "Me, Riki, and Hoon."

Sunghoon cracked a grin.

"Oh? Who's Hoon?"

Your eyes flickered away from your computer screen. "Sunghoon? He's my...." you trailed off. What was Sunghoon to you?

"Your?" Your colleague looked at you expectantly, but when you bashfully smiled, she gasped. "Don’t tell me…”

"W-Well, I mean— He's a good friend—"

"Tsk, tsk, if he really was a good friend you wouldn't struggle so much to say that." Your colleague sat down. "Do you like him or something?"

"Of course I do. He's a good friend—"

"That's not what I meant."

You huffed. 

Sunghoon held his breath

"I think I... love him?" you said it like a question, but you didn't look uncertain. The rest of your conversation was pretty plain, just exchanging pleasantries and chuckles about family life.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was completely zoned out. A gunshot could fire right beside him and even then he wouldn't be fully conscious and in his body.

You? 

Loved him?

Ohmygodyousaidthatyoulovedhim.

It was getting bad, how much those words affected him. Each time Sunghoon forced himself to recover mentally, your words would replay again in his head, making him squeeze his eyes shut and feel the heat rush back to his face. Sunghoon felt light-headed. If it weren't for the stickiness of his spiderwebs, Sunghoon would have fallen off the building by now.

Was he dreaming?

Sunghoon bit down on his lip to stop the dumb, dopey grin threatening to spill across his face, but alas, a simple glance at you through the window again had his heart jumping.

He felt like a high schooler, getting all giddy again as if no one has ever loved him before.

Well, it was true though. No one has ever loved him before, not in the way that you've loved him.

Maybe Sunghoon was right for being so protective of you over the past few weeks.

You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at this point, rather just amazed beyond words at the goddamn audacity of these people.

"I don't have money," you said simply, rolling your eyes.

"Are you sure about that, lady?"

You huffed. "Yes, I'm a single mother. You think I'm rich?— Ow, okay sorry."

You were just minding your own business, walking to the subway and thinking about how much you hated your boss, when you were pulled into an alleyway. You were lucky (if this could be considered lucky at all) that you were just getting mugged, who knows what else could have happened?

It was a group of three men, two holding you back and the other trying to extort you of your money. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have any cash on you.

The cold brick wall pressed harshly into your back, hard enough that you nearly winced in pain, but you made sure to show no signs of discomfort or struggle. That would make you seem weak, and if you wanted any chance of getting out unscathed, you should probably avoid showing any vulnerability.

"I can PayPal you," you said simply, your gaze bored.

"We want cash, lady."

You huffed. "I already said, I don't have cash on me. Do you have ApplePay?"

The men groaned.

You had a simple plan: continue to play dumb and keep suggesting alternative payment options to distract them, and when the time came, you'd land a kick to the crotch and make a run for it. A lot of people liked to pool at the convenience stores and bakeries nearby, so it shouldn't be difficult to catch their attention.

"What about Venmo?" you asked, your tone purposefully squeaky and annoying. "Or Zelle? I have a lot of money on Zelle."

You blinked at them, feigning some semblance of naivety, watching in near-satisfaction at the way their faces distorted incredulously.

And just as the three men shot each other looks, trying to reconvene, you realized that maybe your bit off more than you could chew. 

Maybe acting stupid wasn't the best idea, especially in the face of three people filled with the intent to rob you.

Slap!

Because the next thing you knew, your cheek was hot and prickling with pain, your eyes burning with tears from the sheer impact of that palm against your face.

Your jaw went slack in pure shock. Did they just—

Slap!

"Shut up, you bitch!"

Woah.

You opened your mouth to let out another witty response (which was probably already a bad idea to start with), but you're cut off when you're suddenly pushed all the way up against the hard brick wall. Your cheek was pressed against it; it was rough and cold.

Grubby hands patted you down, searching for any spare cash left in your pockets. You cringed as they searched through your long-discarded purse for the third time, only to find chapstick, lip gloss, and a bunch of cards. 

"Come on, woman, you need to have some money on you!" you heard one of them mutter, the rancid smell of cigarettes filling your nose. 

"I already said," you huffed, letting out a small yelp of pain as they shoved you against the wall again, your lip scraping against the rough brick. You tasted blood. "I don't have cash on me—"

They shoved you even harder this time, holding you by your head. Your entire cheek was pressed up against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as pain shot through your head. Maybe you shouldn't have talked so much smack, because now you were feeling light-headed from the sheer impact.

You couldn't see what happened in the next few moments, but you were suddenly lifted in the air by strong arms, strong arms that almost felt familiar. You heard some yelling and shouting, and a few more sudden groans of pain. 

It took you a few moments to realize that it was a certain blue and red superhero scooping you up, and it took you even longer to realize that it was this same hero that had gently placed you up on the ledge, before going back down to the alley to wreak havoc on those men.

It was horrific, the way that Spider-Man raised his fists, crashing them down on these men so hard that you could see the dark red blood stains seeping onto his spandex costume. The painful cries, the sound of Spider-Man's fists making contact with their bodies, it was all a terrible sound.

You watched silently, slack-jawed.

Spider-Man always had a more action-packed fighting style, utilizing his webs and arsenal of abilities and gadgets to make a spectacle of his fights (whether intentional or not). 

Yet, here he was, using nothing but his bare hands to beat these men to a pulp.

It made your head hurt, everything. Even from the ledge high up, you could smell the must, blood, and sweat. It made you feel sick.

You could feel yourself lose all energy, deflating. You just wanted to go home, and feel your son and Sunghoon's warmth.

Riki, you thought as you watched in horror.

"Hoon," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself to the point that you didn't even realize that you said it.

Then, everything stopped, and suddenly you were up in the air again.

You mustered all the strength you had left in yourself to become aware of your surroundings. "Spider—"

"Don't talk."

So you didn't.

As you felt your mind cloud up, you could only think of a few things.

First, that your entire body had a subtle ache.

And second, that Spider-Man's voice sounded really familiar.

“Where were you? Why do you have a cut on your lip? Why were you out so late?” were the first words spilling out of Sunghoon’s mouth the moment you appeared in the doorway. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why would you stay out when it’s dark—?”

You appreciated the concern, but you simply did not have it in you talk to him. You were exhausted, and even more mentally drained. You walk past him, ignoring Sunghoon's bombarding questions, completely oblivious to the way he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, rubbing his bruised knuckles as his brows crashed together.

"Why aren't you answering me?" Sunghoon clutched your shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. You missed the ring of red around his eyes, too focused on your own bloody lips to see the even larger gash slowly healing on Sunghoon's cheek. His breath was heavy, almost like he'd been running around like crazy.

You let out an exasperated sigh, your tired eyes fluttering over to him. The events that transpired earlier were not a big deal to you, but it sure did suck the energy out of you.

Sunghoon cupped your cheek, taking your face into his hands. He studied your expression, brushing his finger against your cut lip. When you hissed at the sensation, Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath, before his face pinched.

"This is why I told you not go out after dark—"

"Not right now, Sunghoon," you grumbled, pulling away from him. You let out another sigh. "I don't feel like having this conversation right now."

He reached out for you, but you turned on your heel, heading towards Riki's room.

"How's Riki?"

Sunghoon stared at you, before swiping his tongue over his lips. "I-I'm serious, [Name]. We can't keep having this conversation."

"Not right now," you repeated yourself, not even looking at him.

"No!" Sunghoon cried, his outburst making you stop and cock a brow at him. "We need this conversation now. Y-You— It's not safe anymore."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Just, don't go out anymore," he stumbled over his words, yet his face was solemn. "Please, just come home early. And if—And if you want to go out, I'll go with you."

Maybe it was because you were already having a bad day, or maybe you were just tired, but you felt anger begin to bubble inside of you.

These past few weeks, Sunghoon had been protective of you. It was endearing sometimes, but now it was getting ridiculous. You were capable of handling yourself, and if you weren't, that was your own responsibility to take care of, not his. You appreciated the concern, but not his visceral disapproval of any time you even decided to step outside.

"Sunghoon," you said calmly, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "I'm a grown woman. I can go outside by myself."

"No," he shook his head vehemently, taking your hands into his. "You don't get it. You don't know what's out there. It's not safe for you."

You tried your best. You really tried your hardest to swallow all the hot anger threatening to tumble out of your lips. You dug your nails into your palms, taking slow breaths as Sunghoon gave you a lengthy lecture about why you weren't prepared for the 'outside world' anymore.

It was difficult. You couldn't be angry that he cared about you, that he was so worried for your wellbeing. But as more words about how you couldn't possibly handle yourself outside were bleeding into your ears like shrill pots and pans to the point that it was unbearable to listen to.

"Am I weak to you, Sunghoon?" you finally interrupted him amidst his tangent.

"What? No, I—"

"Then why do you keep acting like I am?" No, you shouldn't be raising your voice at him like this, not when all he was doing was showing you how much he cared about you. Each word was calm, but you felt the venom seeping in with each syllable. "I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of how you act like I'm incapable of defending myself."

"But—"

"I don't want to hear it anymore," you grumbled, rubbing your temples and turning your back to him. "Please. I just want quiet right now."

The two of you stood in silence like that for a few pulses, the air tense— the most tense that the two of you have ever been.

The silence was broken when Sunghoon took in a deep breath, cracking the front door open, before stepping outside and quietly shutting it.

The entire apartment was deathly silent. With what remaining energy you had left, you retired to your room. The moment your back hit the mattress, your heavy eyelids shut.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon took a stroll along the apartment complex. The cool air kissed his cheek, running through his hair.

Was he wrong for worrying about you so much?

Should he have approached things differently?

How was he going to resolve this now?

Maybe Taehyun was right, that he was trying so hard to be a Prince Charming of sorts– your knight in Shining Armor.

It was never Sunghoon's intention to make you feel weak. 

He was just scared. When he saw you in that alleyway, his blood ran cold, and all he could think about was protecting you.

The mere thought of you getting even more hurt than you already were frightened Sunghoon.

Sunghoon wasn't sure how long he spent outside, but it was long enough for his skin to feel cold to the touch.

After collecting himself, Sunghoon had a plan to resolve this bump along the road: he'd go inside, apologize, and explain himself clearly. Anxiety gnawed at him from the inside out, but he knew he had to make things right.

But as Sunghoon made his way back to your apartment door, taking in a deep breath before he reached for the door handle and rehearsing what he wanted to tell you in his head, something interrupted his thoughts.

First, it was the sound of glass breaking.

Then, the sound of Riki crying, and at last, your screaming.

And when Sunghoon busted down the front door, he found the entire house empty, save for the shattered glass window of your bedroom.

"Shhh, Baby don't cry," you shakily breathed, holding Riki close to your chest. "It's okay, it's okay— Shhh."

The last thing you expected was to be kidnapped by Spider-Man's number one opponent, the supervillain Giganto.

But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.

But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.

It all happened so quickly that you could barely remember how you got here. The hair on your hands was standing up, a chill running down your spine. The entire facility felt empty, only the sound of your breathing and Riki's crying reverberating off the walls, but you knew better. Giganto took you here, so he must be nearby. You didn't even know why he wanted you to begin with, but now you had to deal with the reality of it.

You thought back to Sunghoon.

Wasn't this what he was warning you about? Why did you have to be influenced by your feelings like that? If you just listened to him and acted maturely, this could have been avoided... right?

You couldn't imagine how he felt now. He was just trying to protect you, and you just threw it back into his face. This was the second time that you were shitty to Sunghoon; how could you say that you loved him when all you did was be an asshole to him?

You would wallow in self-pity, but you had Riki to protect now.

Your eyes flickered around the dark and empty facility. Any moment now, Giganto could appear and kill you, or something.

You didn't know much about Giganto, other than that he had the ability to change sizes. That is, he could become very large or very small in an instant.

"Riki, breathe baby," you huffed, hoping that the fast beating of your heart would slow down soon enough for you to think straight. You swallowed the lump in your throat. For the first time ever, you wished that Spider-Man would come and save you from this maniac.

"Well, hello there."

Speak of the devil.

From the shadows emerged a man. He was in a skin-tight suit, with a mask hiding everything but his eyes and mouth, similar to Spider-Man. What made him stand out was the gadget in his hand. It was a gun-like gadget of some sort, glowing bright green.

You narrowed your eyes at him as goosebumps rose on your arms.

"Giganto," you questioned, your voice hoarse from screaming earlier, "Why did you take me here?"

The supervillain grinned, taking his time as he promenaded around the rink. Was he wearing ice-skates? How pompous.

"Is it that hard to figure out?" Giganto mused, his fingers running along the edge of his gadget. "Why don't you take a guess?"

You had no answer. The only thing that made sense was that you were a civilian and a resident of this city. What other connection to Giganto did you have other than that?

You stayed silent, holding Riki even closer to your chest as you realized that Giganto was walking— err, skating?— towards you. Your shoulders tensed, trying to pull your curled up legs to your chest.

"Relax, woman," the villain huffed. That's when you realized that he wasn't just holding that gadget, but various other... cones? They looked like those tiny plastic traffic cones at Riki's daycare. Giganto began to place them adjacent to you. "I'm just setting up for a game."

A game?

Just when you thought that Giganto probably forgot about your earlier question, he skated back to where he was previously.

"So, you have a guess yet?"

You would have said something witty, but you remembered what happened last time you tried to use your words to get out of something.

It was distracting you, the way that Giganto was paying extra attention to the gadget in his hands, brandishing it and shining the thing like it was a jewel.

And it seemed that he noticed this too.

“Oh this?” the villain threw his head back, letting out a laugh, a laugh that you knew too well to be fake because hey, working in an office with shitty coworkers and an even shittier boss made you receptive to it. “It’s just what I call a Size-inator!”

He let out another string of cartoonishly villainous laugh, nearly comical how enunciated it was. It was so ridiculous that Riki stopped crying, sending you a confused look. And when all you did was stare at him like he was a maniac, Giganto stopped laughing.

“Isn’t this impressive?” Giganto threw his hands up in the air. “Gee, you people are never satisfied.”

You nodded slowly. He looked so excited about this Size-inator, almost like he was just waiting for you to ask about it. You wouldn’t mind doing some talking. After all, it could buy you time and information.

“Right…” you nodded slowly. “So this Size-ometer-"

“Size-inator,” he corrected you.

“Yeah, yeah, this Size-er,” you waved him off, “What does it do?”

"Thought you'd never ask!" Giganto threw his hands up into the air theatrically. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, all the lights turned off in the ice rink, only a spotlight shining over the villain. "The Size-inator is a device designed by moi. I can shoot whatever I want— he pointed the gadget to one of the cones he placed down, pulling the trigger. In an instant, the cone shrunk— "And it will change in size!"

"Pretty neat, isn't it?" he looked at you slyly.

You nodded slowly. "So it's a shrink ray, basically."

"Nuh-uh!" Giganto's outburst made you cock a brow at him. "It's a Size-inator!"

"Right."

.

.

.

"So... Where's Spider-Man?" Giganto asked, teetering on his ice-skates like a teenage girl waiting on her crush.

Your face scrunched.

Um.

How were you supposed to know?

"Uh, I don't know?" you said, your tone questioning your own certainty.

Giganto's face morphed into an incredulous one. He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Don't lie to me, woman!"

You shook your head, shrugging vehemently. "I really don't!"

Giganto skated up to you, his ice-skates scraping up against the ice to make a shrill sound. He peered down at you, his eyes suspicious even through the mask.

"So you mean to tell me that you've coming home to the same apartment as Sungjoon Park everyday and you didn't know that he's Spider-Man?" the villain eyed you suspiciously.

Sungjoon Park?

"What are you talking about? I only know a Sunghoon Park—"

At the sound of Sunghoon's name, Riki stirred. 

"Papa!" he exclaimed, wriggling in your hold.

"Yeah, yeah, Sunghoon Park, or whatever," Giganto waved off. "You didn't know that he's Spider-Man this entire time?—" he pointed at Riki— "You have a child with him!"

Crash!

Before you could even process things, a massive crash rang throughout the entire facility, followed by the sound of car sirens going off and glass breaking.

"Oh! Gotta goooo!" Giganto sped away, summoning his other little gadgets, presumably to go check up on the commotion outside. "Don't you dare try to escape, woman! I'm always watching!"

And then you were left alone again, in the middle of a cold ice rink.

Tap, tap.

Sunghoon? 

Spider-Man?

Tap, tap.

You knew that Giganto was a maniac, but you didn't know that he was that insane.

Tap, tap.

That wouldn't make any sense.

Sunghoon might be associated with him somehow, but your own best friend as the Spider-Man?

No way.

Tap, tap.

And now that Giganto was gone—

Tap, tap.

That tapping sound was going to drive you crazy—!

"Pssst!"

You shot your head around. No one was there.

You looked in the other direction, then all around you. No one was there either.

"Look up here!"

You whipped your head up to the ceiling, where a massive opening had been created from the rubble. And lo and behold, there hung the one and only friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

"C'mon, [Name]," he said, reaching out a hand to you, "Take my hand and we'll escape."

Your eyes widened into saucers, bulging out of your head. You swore that you've heard that voice before, and as you flashed through all of your memories, you could never recall an instance where Spider-Man's voice matched with that of Spider-Man. Instead, all the memories lined up with Sungh—

"Papa!" Riki cried.

That's something that you could never wrap your head around. Riki seemed to call only Sunghoon papa. Yet, he's been calling Spider-Man papa, too.

You kept your eyes trained on the hero's wide, white eyes, your mind running on its own while your mouth moved. 

"I-I'm tied up, Spider-Man," you stammered. 

A familiar voice, papa, a weird obsession with crime and safety, it all didn't make sense.

Spider-Man dropped down from the ceiling, carefully untying the ropes wrapped around your hands and feet.

"Are you okay?" the hero asked, helping you stand up with wobbly feet. To your surprise, Spider-Man clutched your chin, forcing you to look at him. In his other hand, he held Riki, to which Riki began snuggling up against his chest. And then, worried words streamed from his lips, in a tone that you knew all too well. "Did he do anything to you? Are you hurt? Can you stand?—"

For a split second, you thought you were going crazy. 

For a split second, his voice sounded exactly like Sunghoon's: with the same breathiness, the same cadence, and of course, the same exact concern that made your heart melt.

For a split second, you could almost see Sunghoon's thick eyebrows furrowing behind the mask, worry strewn all across his expression.

"Sunghoon?"

Spider-Man froze, going frigid all the while Riki continued to nuzzle his face in his strong chest.

Behind the mask, you could see almost exactly how Sunghoon would bite down on his tongue, his lips parting while his eyes flashed around the room; his nervous tick.

"Sunghoon," you whispered again, this time with a type of desperation that you never knew you had. You could feel your chest pounding, the sound of your heart thrumming against your ribcage filling your ears. "Sunghoon, please."

Please tell me it's you.

Slowly, you reached up to cup Spider-Man's face, and to your surprise, the hero leaned into your touch.

"[Name]," Spider-Man whispered shakily, so low that you could barely hear it.

Hearing it roll off his tongue, that confirmed everything that you needed to know.

Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility. 

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility. 

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

Sunghoon shot a web back up at the ceiling where the opening was. 

Giganto loaded his shrink ray, and in that moment, you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Yet, instead of feeling yourself shrink into oblivion, you felt your entire body lift up into the air, before being hoisted back to your feet.

"You don't trust me?" Sunghoon grinned into your ear, his hands still wrapped tightly around you.

You opened your eyes slowly. You were on a rooftop.

"Woah..."

With Riki back in your arms, you looked down to see the vast cityscape below your feet. The dark blue night sky was peppered with white splotches of stars and satellites. The lights were beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.

The feeling of Sunghoon's warmth behind you, as well as Riki's little giggles, made you melt.

"W-Where are we?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the view.

"Far," Sunghoon breathed against your ear. Then, he pulled away from you, gently guiding you to a ledge in the inner perimeter of the rooftop. "Far from Giganto."

And as he began to slink away, your eyes widened, reaching out to him instinctively. "Where are you going?"

Sunghoon turned around. He ruffled Riki's hair, then brushed his gloved finger against your cheek. 

"I need to go fight Giganto," he said simply.

Before you could protest, Sunghoon clutched your chin, making you look at him.

"Well, you said that Spider-Man was useless," you could hear him grin behind the mask. "This is my one time to impress you. I'll beat him up really good, I promise."

His tone was light-hearted, trying to make you smile, yet you only chewed on your lip, looking on hesitantly. 

"I'll be safe," Sunghoon reassured you, leaning in closer to you. 

You looked at him with clouded eyes. "Are you sure? What if you get hurt?"

It was funny, how the roles were now reversed: now, it was you worrying about his safety.

"I'm strong," Sunghoon chuckled, flexing his bicep. "The strongest."

You still looked apprehensive, so Sunghoon leaned in even closer, cupping your cheek.

"Don't worry about me," he said lowly, his hands holding you like you were a delicate piece of glass. 

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath. You nodded your head, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself, before meeting his eyes.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes like that for a few pulses, getting lost in the comfort of each other, a momentary escape from reality.

And then, letting all of your inhibitions run free, you grabbed Sunghoon's masked face, and pressed a right where his lips were. You pulled away quickly, but this time, you had a determined look on your face.

Sunghoon stood there frozen, suddenly dazed as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, flustered.

"Well?" you grumbled, averting your gaze. "What are you waiting for? Go impress me, Spider-Man."

Sunghoon never turned on his heel and began swinging away any faster.

Sunghoon flushed as he heard you giggling from the other room.

He hated the media, he hated it so much.

But, he had to admit, he was grateful for all the news outlets this one time.

Because truth be told, they caught some pretty badass shots of him kicking Giganto's ass.

Not because Sunghoon personally wanted cool pictures of himself, but because now you and Riki were rewatching clips of the fight in the other room. Riki giggled, exclaiming every other second and clapping his hands cutely, while you cooed not just at his cuteness, but at the way Sunghoon's muscles flexed in each shot.

He had to admit, the camerawork made the fight look a lot more intense than it actually was.

What actually went down was pretty simple.

Giganto made Sunghoon play a game of some sorts, some supervillain version of laser-tag. Sunghoon was going to be in ice-skates, and he was going to have to evade Giganto's Size-inator. The villain chose ice-skating because apparently it was way harder to move around in ice-skates than not. However, he completely forgot two very important facts.

The first one was that Spider-Man was... Well, Spider-Man. Sunghoon's abilities were heightened to the max, so his reflexes and physical capabilities transcended whatever man-made gadget Giganto had.

The second one was that Sunghoon was kickass at ice-skating, all thanks to the many times that he'd gone with you and Riki. There was something about showing off how good he was in front of you, the literal love of his life, that shaped Sunghoon into the absolute pro at ice-skating that he was now.

It's safe to say, Giganto's defeat was pathetic. He was arrested, and his identity was revealed to be some corporate slave trying to reach stardom through criminal activities.

Sunghoon had to force himself to take deep breaths, stifling the stupid grin threatening to spread on his face as he heard you and Riki's giggles.

"Are you guys ready to go?" he poked his head in through the doorway. "Oh wow."

There you were, wearing a pretty dress that hugged your body a little too well. Sunghoon's jaw went slack as his eyes glazed over your figure, gulping audibly as you made your way over to him.

"Hey there, Handsome," you purred, sliding your hands up his chest.

"Hi." No matter how long he's known you, how many times he's seen you in a figure-hugging dress, how many times you've kissed him until he saw stars, Sunghoon felt like putty in your presence.

"I love you in this color," you mused. You were definitely doing it on purpose, running your nails against his arm and getting all touchy.

Sunghoon's mouth felt dry. Was it getting hot it here, or was it just him? "Th-Thank you."

Linking fingers with Sunghoon, you pushed your chest forward and up against his chest.

"You know," you breathed against his neck. You smelled so good, your scent filled Sunghoon's head deliciously. "I've been waiting for tonight all week."

Sunghoon's palms were getting sweaty, goosebumps rising on his skin and the hairs on his neck standing up. "R-Really?"

"Of course," you cooed, before pulling away. You did a little twirl for him, showing off your dress.

"I'm ready," you smiled, your glossy lips moving in a way that made Sunghoon feel light-headed. You looked delicately over your shoulder, bursting out laughing. When Sunghoon peered over your shoulder, he also couldn't help but let chuckles fall from his lips.

"Riki, baby, what are you doing?!"

Riki was dressed up, but poor baby must have been tired, as he was all curled up against the floor, dozing off like nothing else mattered.

Tonight was a family night.

The plan was to go out for dinner as a family, and after, go home and watch a movie. It was a simple plan, but a plan that made Sunghoon all giddy with excitement. Riki wailed a little bit when you two woke him up, but just seeing you and Sunghoon's face made him peaceful in an instant.

Hand-in-hand, you, Sunghoon, and Riki walked off into the night.

And Sunghoon thought, there isn't anything else in the world that he could ask for.

Not when he was able to spend the rest of his life with his little family.

Not when he was head over heels in love with you.

[madebycloud]

pt 1 | The Devil in Heels

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you dream of becoming a successful journalist, but first, you need experience. landing a job as a personal assistant for the editor-in-chief of riot magazine seems like the perfect opportunity… if only your new boss, the devil herself, didn't make your life a living hell. (or Devil Wears Prada AU that no one asked for) warnings/themes: eventual romance n smut, boss/employee, modern au, fashion & couture, miranda!jinx, andy!reader, pov switch, jinx is mean words: 3.7k — ✩ part one part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven

“To Jobs That Pays The Rent”

“Arcane publication, please,” you mutter to the driver as the taxi takes off.

You're stressed. Late, stressed, and in need of a job. The past few weeks have been nothing but job denials.

The driver glances back through the rearview mirror but keeps his mouth shut. Probably used to stressed people in a rush in the morning.

You look around the city from the backseat of the taxi, grumbling.

Five job interviews. Five job interviews in one month. All five were a disaster.

New York is a wonderful place for people with dreams—like you. Unfortunately, New York loves to eat dreams and spit them out. But you're not going to bend. You're not leaving this city and accepting failure. You didn't work this hard to give up so easily.

The taxi comes to a stop, and you pay the driver hurriedly and then get out quickly, sprinting across the pavement into the high-rise building. You look up at the building, with the words ‘Arcane Publication’ lit up in flashing, neon lettering. 

You walk towards the open doors and reach the desk, giving the person behind the counter a shaky smile. “Uh, I'm here for the interview for Riot Magazine?”

Their eyes never leave their desk. “Take the elevator to the forty-eighth floor. The front desk of Riot will assist you.”

Forty-eighth floor. You thank the front desk person and head towards the elevators.

—

Behind the reception desk is a logo that says ‘Riot.’

You walk over to the desk, taking the card from your pocket. “Hi, I have an appointment with Margot Vyx-” You're interrupted in the middle of your sentence by your name being called.

You turn and see a woman with pale skin and dirty-blonde hair. “Human Resources certainly has a weird sense of humor.” She sighs, her eyes looking you up and down.

You don't respond, shifting uncomfortably.

“Come on, follow me.” She turns, and you follow her down the hallway. “Okay, so... I'm Margot, and I was Jinx's second personal assistant, but her first assistant recently got promoted, so now I'm the first one and-”

“And you're replacing yourself,” you blurt out.

She gives you a dry look over her shoulder. “Essentially, yes.” She continues to walk down the hallway. “Jinx's last two assistants only lasted a couple of weeks,” she states, turning to the left and walking towards a large office area. “I don't know why you applied for a position like this, but we need someone who can—how would you put it... survive here. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, trying not to stumble over your own feet as you follow her. “Yes. Of course. Who's Jinx?”

Margot whips around to look at you, her eyes wide. She looks like she's seen a ghost. Or an idiot. Probably that second option. “You did not just ask me that,” she murmurs, then shakes her head. “She's the editor-in-chief of Riot Magazine, possibly one of the best in the country. She's a legend.”

You blink. “A legend?”

“A legend,” she repeats. “And if you last longer than a year working for her, you can grab any other job you want. A million girls out there would kill to be in your position right now.”

She sounds serious. “Oh, great.” A million, huh? “I'd love to be considered.”

She opens a glass door and stops, turning to you with a smirk. “You do realize that Riot is a fashion magazine, right? being into fashion is a necessity.”

You frown, confused. “What makes you think I'm not into fashion?” you ask, but she only gives you an unbelieving look.

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can do so, her phone dings. She pulls the phone out of her pocket and reads the message, and in an instant her expression changes, shifting from arrogance to outright terror.

“Oh my God,” she mutters, sprinting over the telephone. “No. No, no, no-”

“What's wrong?” you ask, taking a hesitant step closer.

She holds up a finger to pause you, grabs the phone, and starts muttering a string of words to whoever's on the other end.

Then, the office door swings open, and a man enters, carrying a box under one arm before setting it down on Margot’s desk. “But I thought she was coming at 9-”

“Her driver text-messaged,” Margot huffs. “Her facialist ruptured a disc.”

He looks you up and down with a raised eyebrow before shrugging and calling down the hallway. “All right, everyone! Man your battle stations!”

The moment those words are said, the whole office goes into a blur.

People who were sitting lazily in their chairs seconds ago are suddenly on their feet, desperately fixing their hair and pulling out lipgloss and mascara to apply frantically in front of their computer monitors.They run around, searching for anything that could be out of place. Empty candy bar wrappers are thrown away in a hurry. Unopened water bottles are shoved into desk drawers. Any stray pieces of gum are disposed of immediately.

What the hell is happening?

—

Jinx steps out of the back of her car, glancing up at the sun. She pulls a pair of black sunglasses off of her face, pushing her hair away from her cheeks.

She's wearing a black, knee-length, fitted dress that hugs her frame, exposing her collarbones with its low-cut V-neck... and all of it is black, black, black. The only pop of color in the whole outfit is the blue of her pumps.

She walks to the building, and the doorman stands straight-backed, opening the doors for her. “Mornin', Miss Jinx—excuse me, Miss Lane. Nice day.”

“Mmhm,” she murmurs, walking into the building.

Jinx has been in a shitty mood since this morning, when her facialist suffered from a sudden case of ruptured discs. That's right. Ruptured. Discs. Apparently, her facials were so good that she gave herself a back injury.

Which meant that she had to wake up early, get dressed, and drive to the office, all with a dry face. No facial. She'll probably go home tonight, throw on a face mask, and watch the first season of Breaking Bad by herself. Or drink. Lots of drinking...

She walks through the halls, heels clicking against the tile flooring. She doesn't bother to look at the employees as she walks past them, and she can hear people scrambling behind her to get out of her way.

Jinx reaches the elevator and presses the button, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for the doors to open. It arrives, and she steps inside, crossing her arms as the doors close.

It was a pain in the ass finding a good facialist in this city. One that didn't try to talk her ear off about celebrity gossip or have hands like sandbags. One who knew how to keep her mouth shut and had hands that felt like clouds against her skin.

Finding a good facialist in New York is like finding a good man. Impossible.

She groans quietly as the elevator dings on floor 48, where the office of Riot is. She exits the elevator and walks down the hallway towards her office, the doors of her employees' offices lining the hallway.

Margot approaches her, and before she can get out two words, Jinx responds, “I don't understand why it's so difficult to confirm an appointment.”

The blonde hands her the clipboard and then starts stuttering. “I- I'm so sorry, Miss Lane.”

Jinx takes the clipboard, glaring at the paper. “What, did she break both of her legs too?” she says sarcastically, handing the clipboard back to Margot.

Margot doesn't seem to find it funny, biting her lip. She walks next to her, trying to walk at the same pace as Jinx, but she takes longer strides, and Margot has to keep up, otherwise she'll be left behind.

“Tell Jayce that I don't like the girl she sent for the Brazil spread,” Jinx continues. “Cancel those reservations at Cafe D'Sorelle... I don't know why I thought she could be a good restaurant critic for the magazine. Also, tell Scar I'm scheduling a new shoot this week. Oh, and confirm the dinner tonight, the driver knows where to pick Isha up.”

Margot swallows, nodding her head. “Of course, right away.”

Jinx steps into her office, tossing her purse onto the top of Margot's desk and walking past the woman who's sitting on the other side. She sinks down onto her large leather chair and gestures towards the stranger. “Who's that?”

“Nobody-” Margot begins, then pauses, realizing how that sounds. “Uh... I mean, nobody important. Human resources sent her up about the assistant job, and I was sort of pre-interviewing her for you-”

“Don't bother. The last assistants you sent me were absolutely awful. I'm going to have to do it myself. Send her in. That's all.”

Margot stares at her for a few seconds, then nods. “Yes, Miss.”

—

“She wants to see you,” Margot tells you.

You stand up, straightening your clothes and clutching your briefcase tightly. “She does?”

“Yes, move!”

You walk towards the woman's desk, but before that, Margot snatches your briefcase off your hands. “Hey!” you exclaim, “That's mine-”

“This is foul—don't let her see it,” she warns, taking the outdated briefcase and shoving it into the bottom of the desk.

You sigh and take another small step closer to the desk. The woman—Jinx, or whatever—looks up from her desk to stare at you. She eyes you up and down and tilts her head to the side. “Who are you?” she asks, leaning forward in her seat.

Who are you? Not hello there, not hi, not welcome. “Uh-” you hesitate, licking your dry lips. “Well-” You hold your chin high and say your name before placing your resume on her desk. “I recently graduated from The Academy,” you add.

Jinx leans back in her seat, picking up the piece of paper like it was garbage and briefly reading it over. “And what are you doing here?” 

“I think I could do a good job as your-” you start, but her glare cuts you off before you finish your sentence.

She sets the resume down, then picks up the magazine on the edge of her desk and casually flips through it. She doesn't bother to look at you.

Oh god. Not even thirty seconds, and she's already brushing you off.

You continue anyway. “I came to New York to be a journalist. I sent letters to everyone, and I finally got a call from Arcane,” you ramble, the words spilling out of your mouth faster than you can stop them. “So basically it's this or Tough Green-”

“-So you don't read Riot?”

“...no.”

“And before today, you had never heard of me?” she asks, her index finger dragging along the edge of the page, tracing the pictures.

“No.”

“And you have no style or sense of fashion,” she says, then flicks to the next page.

You're caught off guard by the bluntness of the statement. You have to resist the urge to look down at your outfit, but you're dressed fine. You're dressed fine. Well, at least you think you're dressed fine.

“That really depends on-”

“That wasn't a question,” she interrupts, her eyes finally lifting from the magazine to look at you.

Oh.

Alright. So you're no fashionista, but that doesn't mean you're a lost cause. You know, like, basic stuff.

You click your tongue and press forward. “I was the editor-in-chief of the Daily Northwestern. I won a national competition for college journalists with a series on the economic inequality in-”

She cuts you off again, flicking a hand like she's swatting a fly. “That's all,” she says boredly.

That's all?

Damn, now you're starting to understand why her assistants can't take this job. She's got zero patience. Plus, this woman is hard to impress. She's so uninterested. She just dismissed your resume and your qualifications. All of that effort you put into your resume, and she didn't even care.

This could not be, would not be, another failed interview.

You're not going to be working at Dunkin Donuts for the next five years of your life. You are not going to be another college-educated young adult working a minimum wage job. You are not going to be another one of the statistics.

You are good. You are smart. You are qualified.

You're tired of these assholes and their shitty attitudes and their shitty treatment of everyone because they're sitting in this stupid office with their stupid magazines and stupid high heels and shitty attitudes.

Instead of walking out, you step closer to her desk, placing your hands on the edge as you bend forward slightly. “Fine. You're right. I don't really fit in here. I don't know much about fashion, but…”

She raises an eyebrow, and you catch a smirk on her face, but you ignore it.

“But I'm smart, I learn fast, and I will work very hard,” you finish.

She leans forward, mirroring your actions as she sets down the magazine on the desk. “Oh really?” The smirk hasn't faded from her face yet. A good sign? probably not, but you can't back out now.

“Really,” you insist, keeping your voice steady. “Really, really-” you pause when the word fumbles on your tongue, “...really, really, really.”

“That's a lot of reallys,” she remarks.

“I'm serious.”

She stares at you for half a second then leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Hm,” is all she says.

You're about to open your mouth to beg, plead, whatever it takes to get the job, when a voice appears behind you.

“We have an emergency.”

You step back and turn around to see the man from earlier.

He must be in his late thirties or early forties, with a slim frame and pale skin. His brown hair is neatly styled, but a couple of strands hang loose and frame his face, falling near his ears. A pair of thin-framed glasses rests at the tip of his nose. In his hand is a large booklet with the word ‘Riot’ written in white letters.

“What is it, Viktor?” Jinx asks, her attention no longer focused on you.

“The printer messed up the spreads again.” He steps over to the desk and places the booklet next to the magazine.

She rubs at the place between her eyes. “Let me see.”

You observe their brief exchange, how he's calm, how she's pissed. No one is looking at you or acknowledging you.

And you just... stand here. Just stood here, like a loser, waiting like some sort of damn dog.

You're not a dog, you're a human being, and you're getting nowhere. Might as well leave. This is... this is hopeless.

—

“Fucking hell.” You slam the apartment door shut as you walk in.

Zeri looks up from her phone, a bowl of chips in her lap. “So no job, huh?” she asks, turning off her phone.

You groan and drop your briefcase on the table. “No job.” You collapse onto the couch next to her, burying your face in your hands.

“It went that badly?” She shifts closer and sets the bowl down on the coffee table.

You sigh and peek through your fingers. “The woman is an absolute bitch. And she didn't even pay attention to the resume! I just stood there like a piece of furniture.”

“Well, if she couldn't see how awesome you are, then she's a moron.”

“Yes, Jinx Lane is a fucking moron.”

Zeri stares at you for a beat. “Wait, Jinx Lane? ...as in the Jinx Lane?”

You pull your hands away from your face. “Is there another Jinx Lane?”

“Well no, but-” She blinks a few times. “Like, that Jinx Lane? Of Riot?”

“Yeah, that's the one."

She grabs your shoulder and shakes you a few times. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You met Jinx Lane?!”

“That's her name, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-” She lets go of your shoulder and sits up, waving her hands wildly. “Jinx is a legend! You spoke to her! That's the editor-in-chief of Riot!”

You shrug dismissively and sink deeper into the couch. “Who cares?”

Zeri shoves you halfway off the couch, making you sit up. “Who cares!? Who cares?!” she exclaims. “Jinx is an icon. She's the youngest woman to ever become editor, and she's a legend.”

“Icon or not, she's rude.”

“Do you even know who Jinx is?”

“No, I'm still a stupid, uncultured woman.”

“Oh, hush, knock it off.” She nudges you with her foot. “You're not stupid or uncultured.”

“What, I'm just supposed to bow and worship her now?”

“Not that exactly, but,” she starts digging through the couch cushions, “at the very least you should... ah ha!” She takes out a magazine and tosses it, landing on your legs.

“What's that?” You pick up the magazine carefully.

“It's a copy of last month's issue of Riot. I was reading it earlier.” Zeri leans back, throwing her arm over the edge of the couch.

You flip through the glossy pages of the magazine, seeing beautiful models and beautiful clothing. It's not really the kind of thing you're into. You lift it up slightly and ask, “You're giving me a fashion magazine.”

“Not just any fashion magazine,” she says, “Riot. It's where all the big names are. Every model dreams of being in that magazine.”

“...uh huh,” you respond, setting the magazine down. “All over a magazine? really?”

“Shut up.” Zeri points at you. “Listen, I'm about to teach you something, so listen carefully.”

You look down at the magazine again and then back at Zeri. “Fine, fine. Spill.”

She sits up and leans forward, holding the magazine in her lap. “So basically…” she starts. “Jinx is the editor-in-chief of Riot, like I said. The magazine?”

“Yeah, I know what Riot is.”

“Good. Anyway, Jinx got the position from her adoptive father, Silco. She's twenty-two. It makes her the youngest editor-in-chief of a major fashion magazine.”

“Wow…” you mutter sarcastically. “What an accomplishment.”

She ignores your comment and just continues talking. “And she completely changed Riot's image from the boring, stodgy mess it used to be to a fresh, exciting magazine for the new generation,” she says, then pokes your shoulder again. “Which is a huge deal—a lot of people in the fashion industry hated her, because, you know, she's young.”

“So she's young and edgy. Huge deal.”

“Riot was a dying magazine, and Jinx turned it all around in like less than a year. When she first took over, everyone in the industry made fun of her and called her a spoiled kid. They said she'd ruin the magazine. And then she took it from an embarrassment to a money-making goldmine in like ten months-”

“Okay! Okay, I get it already.” You wave your hands in the air, signaling her to stop. “She's a legend of the fashion industry, yada yada. She could probably spit on a page, and fashion editors nationwide would have an aneurysm-”

“-That would totally be a cool trend, wouldn't it?” Zeri interrupts, then smiles at her own statement.

...

“No.”

She shrugs it off, and her smile fades. “But you understand what I'm trying to tell you, right?”

“She's some fashion god who turned a boring magazine into a big thing.”

“She's also incredibly influential and insanely wealthy.”

“Yes, I understand-”

“She's in her early twenties and is a millionaire-”

“Yes, alr-”

“And now, you—a normal and completely unassuming person-”

“-Woah, thanks.”

“An unassuming person,” she continues, “met her. You met the editor-in-chief of a major magazine and probably the most powerful woman in the entire industry-”

“I didn't even get the job,” you remind her.

“But you talked to her, and that's good. That's a good thing.”

“No, it's not-”

“But it is.” She cuts you off. “Even if you didn't get the job, the fact that you had an interview means something. Maybe not the job, but it definitely means something. She saw your resume and probably read it. She saw your face, you spoke words to each other, you shook her hand-”

“I didn't shake her hand-”

“It's the same thing! either way, it's a step in the right direction.”

You're about to retort and tell her that getting ignored in an interview isn't a step in the right direction, but you pause when your phone vibrates.

“Is that your phone?” Zeri asks, and you nod as you pull the phone out of your pocket.

You expect to see a notification from your spam folder. A sale at KFC, perhaps.

You don't expect to see a text.

Zeri grabs your phone before you can read it and begins reading it out loud. “First day-” Her words trail off as she realizes what she's reading, and then her eyes go wide.

“What?” you pry. “What is it?”

“...you got the job.”

You snatch your phone back from her. “I what?”

“You. Got. The job,” she repeats, slower this time.

You blink, reading the text. “I got the job?”

“Yes.”

This can't be right. You were just here, ranting about this woman and how horrible she was and how she didn't even give you the time of day.

And now you have the job.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, clutching your phone tighter. “Holy shit. I got the job.”

“You're working for Jinx Lane.”

There's a long pause, and then you nod. “I'm working for Jinx Lane.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god-” she squeals.

“Calm down,” you try to tell her, but she barely listens as she throws her arms around your shoulders and begins bouncing up and down.

“Oh my God-” she continues squealing as she squeezes you tight, making it difficult to breathe.

“Z, I can't—you're suffocating me-”

“Can you believe it?” she squeezes even tighter. “You're working for Riot. You're working under Jinx!”

Zeri is ecstatic, and rightfully so. This is a good job, a great opportunity. Even if it involved working under someone like Jinx Lane.

You force a smile and force your brain to pump out some sort of excitement, but it feels wrong. This could be an amazing opportunity… but it could also be the most miserable experience of your life.

“Yeah... great,” you mutter, patting her awkwardly on the back when she finally relaxes.

The next few months are going to be hell. This job better pay for your therapy sessions.

[abyssalzones]

can you tell us about your interpretation of the better world universe!!!! especially curious how stan/mystery trio works into it

hell yesssss I definitely can. ABW is maybe my favorite niche gf thing and probably the only "AU" I care about but that may be due to the fact that it's an AU that exists in the canon and we know so little about it. so it has an established foundation that you're left to fill in the details with yourself... it's like a poke bowl to me. you can put anything in there

and since I felt like it here's a bonus pic of them living their best lives pestering ford

[explanation-y stuff under ze cut because I got very longwinded]

as for specifics of how I see everything working out, there's a few key points that establish why things happened differently from canon, the most important being:

Stan agrees to hide journal #3 somewhere

Ford reunites with fiddleford and they begin working together again

both of these are already confirmed in canon, the first being the most obvious "schism" between timelines. literally everything in ABW is the way it is because stan made a different decision. kind of crazy in terms of its implications: I feel like that moment in the basement is a really good example of how stan gets so few opportunities to shape her own life (while ford is in the picture...) because of her role as the 'black sheep' twin. it's not exactly a premeditated decision to push ford into the portal, it's her acting on feelings that have been bubbling unaddressed under the surface for 10-something years at that point, and only then does she have any sort of power over the "narrative" of both her life and the story itself, something that from her pov has been ford's story. and in the canon timeline, she says no.

so like, what the hell made her say yes in ABW's timeline? this question kind of haunts me because I feel like it has to be entirely dependent on what the inside of stan's head looked like at the time. it's possible something influenced her, but overall I think it's more interesting if ford did and said all the exact same things up until this point and it really was entirely dependent on stan's decision internally.

so stan says yes, goes on a big trip to the other side of the world somehow, and buries journal 3 somewhere probably never to be found again. yay! but, uh, going on a trip like ford was suggesting would... take weeks. that would leave ford alone again. and not to have my established thoughts informed by new material or anything but bill did give him 72 hours.

so, next order of business: how in the fuck would ford convince fiddleford to rejoin him??? I'm unsure between journal 3 and tbob's information how ford may have tried to reach out to him but it seems like fiddleford was pretty adamant about staying away from that guy, out of guilt or fear of bill/the portal or both. I don't think logically it would just be a matter of ford calling him enough times or finding out where he lives- and I think that's kind of getting away from the point of why ABW is the way it is too. if stan is suddenly making decisions that are influencing ford's life, I think it would be similarly interesting if fiddleford also possessed some unique autonomy in this scenario.

aka I think ford got fucked up badly (possibly involving losing an eye) and fiddleford found him half-dead while trying to burn his house down. [mabel voice] romance!

to clarify: I don't think fiddleford is obligated to take care of ford. a major part of him leaving the project was finally making the decision to leave a situation that was hurting him, that he'd been staying in entirely because he still cared about ford and felt on some level he could still help him (which gets broken with "I don't need you!") and I think that's a very reasonable decision on his part. but I also do have to think about all the times ford has been "the hero" in situations where fiddleford ends up hurt and helpless because of something traumatizing. I think it'd be fascinating to see that reversed and have fiddleford actively making the difficult, messy decision to take care of that guy even when they're on miserable terms. and so begins like a solid week of these two desperately trying to look out for eachother in a nightmare scenario where one of them probably needs to go to a hospital + keeps getting possessed off and on and the other is going through the worst addiction/withdrawal cycle of his life irt the memory gun. yay! (part of the reason this even works To Me also is heavily informed by the lack of secrets: if fiddleford is actively dressing that guy's wounds he can't really keep it all to himself anymore. crushingly intimate perhaps...)

stan gets back eventually. such is the context of this pic

from there it's a nebulous grab-bag of things I think could happen up to the foundation of the institute.

how do all three of these incredibly fucked up individuals get along? well they don't but then they do.

how do they get bill out of ford's head without performing amateur brain surgery? idk. my best guess is a fiddleford and stan bonding trip into ford's mindscape that potentially helps answer the first question. possibly utilizing the memory gun. shrugs.

what's up with that one picture you drew of parallel fidds holding the memory gun up to ford's head? well. okay that one might or might not be something that actually happened but the idea was just that ford is coping badly with a few specific things and I liked the idea of fiddleford "holding onto" something for him to remember and work through later when he's ready to deal with it, it's an interesting reversal of how he's normally more of a memory sink.

from the point in canon about them stabilizing the portal so that bill can't use it to get into their dimension anymore onward, I think it just becomes a matter of them living the lives they could've always had in canon without realizing it. hence "a better world." some cool tidbits I like to think about:

stan gets to transition much earlier (late 1990's perhaps?) and probably starts going by "lee" instead

she's also the institute's CMO and is mostly in it for going on business trips abroad with ford. and the money. obviously.

the institute probably also legitimately changes the world on a sociopolitical scale outside of just interdimensional travel since their research renders them uniquely untouchable and all three of them are trans (I'm cartoon logic-ing a little bit here just let me have this one)

ford is the eccentric bill nye esque face of the company, fiddleford is the backbone. that isn't to say ford doesn't do anything as I think he'd always moreso be in it for the science than the fame (though it is nice to be more than comfortable financially) but it's an open secret fiddleford keeps tabs on literally everything, he's still very security-oriented.

the northwest family now has a more prominent ongoing rivalry with the pines family that could be very funny to think about. they've taken all the LOGGING JOBS with their damn SCIENCE

part of the reason I thought ford should lose an eye is because I think having him wear an eyepatch would be a neat way to parallel stan's "role" as mr. mystery visually! stan wears an eyepatch for no legitimate reason to keep up appearances as a schlocky tourist trap host, but it also alludes to her being more than she seems under the surface. ford's eyepatch does sort of have a legitimate reason to exist, but he also could just wear his glass eye and it would probably be less "conspicuous." he chooses the eyepatch instead because it's part of his image as Stanford Pines, Founder of Oddology, and because it keeps him safe. there's also a little residual scarring there from damage to his eyelid/tarsal plate which could easily represent him hiding the more "damaged" aspects of himself under his successes. ouch.

I'm unsure if ford and stan would ever feel comfortable getting back in touch with their parents. I know a lot of people go that route with fan material but I don't think they should have to. I think they're much happier now having healed the rift between them on their own and getting to live successful lives for themselves, rather than to prove something to their father.

that being said I do think fiddleford gets in touch with emma-may and his son again and they end up on better terms with time and a Lot of effort. tate's family is now composed of his father, mother, "uncle" ford (in the ye olde gay closeted sense of referring to your dad's partner as an uncle), and auntie lee, and I like to think they go out on trips to the lake together often :]

also ford and fiddleford tie the knot unofficially (in the eyes of the government anyway) in 1990. owed to stan somehow getting "ordained" as a rabbi. don't ask me how.

the pines twins start visiting the institute from a younger age than they do irt visiting stan in the show-- but they're only permitted to come along on heavily-supervised interdimensional excursions once they turn 12. cue antics!

anyway, hopefully this extremely longwinded and loosely structured mess helped answer your question. I like ABW sooo so so much you guys

[vitaminkyeom]

telephone || k.mg

“NOW IT'S TIME FOR ME TO RETURN THE FAVOUR”

PAIRING || Mingyu x Female Reader

GENRES || Horror, 911 Operator!Mingyu, Romance

SUMMARY ||  Working the night shift as a 911 operator was hard as it is and the last thing Mingyu needed was those calls from his ex-girlfriend. Whom he had not seen in years. For obvious reasons of her being dead.

Or, in which, Mingyu kept getting calls from his ex girlfriend claiming that she had murdered him.

SERIES MASTERLIST || till death do us part

WARNINGS || inaccurate 911 stuff, description of murdered body, horror, mention of murder and ghost

WORD COUNT || 3k

A/N || If you recognise this story, no you don't. but anyways this was one of my most favourite works even though i'm not that great at writing horror so i'm really glad i'm starting off with this story for the series. i've tried my best to make it as scary as i could (sorry but im a pussy) so yeah any feedback would be really helpful!

TAGLIST || @monamipencil @nonuify @black-swan-blog27 @hipsdofangirl @wonuilu @kibs-and-bits @unlikelysublimekryptonite @gyuguys @hanicore @alyssng @hyneyedfiz @weebotakuboy @aaniag @thepoopdokyeomtouched @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @sea-moon-star @hrts4hanniehae @athanasiasakura @doubleshoticedshakenespresso @asasilentreader @isabellah29 @mrswonwooo @nonononranghaee @hoichi02 @cheolsboo @dinossaurz @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tinkerbell460 @bluewbwerry @hoeforcheol @kawennote09 @iamawkwardandshy @winterbeartaehyungbestboy ​ @jjeongddol @k-drama-adict @mnstxmnbb @stervahaha @escoupseu @wonvsmile @mansaaay [if you want to be added to my taglist please fill in this form!]

“911, please state your emergency.”

Static. He waited for a minute more but there still wasn’t any sound coming from the other side.

Mingyu sighed exasperatedly, sure that this was another prank call. Halloween night was looming close which also meant teenagers found it funny to call the operators up at night to scare them.

But he was used to this. Which was funny because Mingyu was the biggest scaredy cat in his group and could not even watch Scooby Doo without whimpering at least once. But he took his responsibilities very seriously and there was no way he was going to let his fear come in the middle of his work.

He was about to hang up the call when he heard a sound. Immediately he jerked back the phone to his ear and strained them to hear anything, but all he could hear was a buzzing sound.

“Hello? How can I help-”

“Help.”

He inhaled sharply, the woman’s raspy voice very clear in the empty office. Mingyu was the only one serving night shift in his floor currently, and the only thing accompanying him was the soft beeping on the seven screens in front of him and the buzzing of the fluorescent tube lights above him.

“Ma'am, are you in a position to tell me what is happening?”

His fingers flew across the keyboard, noting down the number first and then quickly texting the other department to find out the location of the call.

“Pl-please help. Make him stop.” The woman whispered,  her ragged breath harsh against his ears.

“Make whom stop? Can you tell me who is near to you, ma’am?”

Mingyu felt an unnatural calmness settle into his bones, one that always came whenever he forced himself to calm down in such situations.

A message dinged on one of his screens indicating that they had traced the nearest cell tower of the cell phone.

“Officer Lee.” He said, already on the other line, talking to the nearest official he could see. “We have a 911 emergency of abuse.”

“Roger that. Address?”

“It's…” Mingyu’s voice trailed off on seeing the address. 

No way- How was that possible? There had to be some mistake right?

Because the address was of his house.

He cleared his throat, sure that the address was wrong since they tracked the nearest cell tower, and that could be kilometres away from the destination.

“Uh, the address shows my house. I… I think you need to be on the lookout for areas near my house.”

There was a pause, as though Seokmin seemed to be trying to process this information. Seokmin had been good friends with him, so Mingyu knew that even he found it odd, especially when his neighbourhood was a safe and nice one.

“On my way.”

“Ma’am,” Mingyu said, back to line one, “if you could tell me your name or your address, or even what is happening to you, I could help you out better.”

His eyes were trained to look at all the monitors at once, one monitoring the small dot that represented Seokmin heading towards the destination, another with a blank form about the caller and another one where he was rapidly typing what he was hearing, ready to call in other emergencies in case he heard something important.

“Help! Why don’t you help me? Please help!”

“Ma’am help is on the way, please calm down-”

He was interrupted by a loud pop as all the lights went out, the only source of light now being the soft glow of his computer screens. The room was now lit up eerily and he felt the hair on the nape of his neck rise up. Mingyu wasn’t very scared of the dark ever, but the growing sounds of gurgling and growling in the telephone line was causing shivers to travel down his spine.

“Mingyu…” The woman rasped, this time sounding like she had gargled razors, her screeching voice turning his blood to ice.

How did she know his name?

Goosebumps rose all over his skin as his breathing came out in sudden pants, feeling an icy invisible hand wrap around his neck. He sucked in a breath harshly and with a jolt, he realised how lonely he was, not a single soul on his floor whilst he was plunged in darkness.

Then the call cut off abruptly, and at the same time, the power surged back to life. 

Yet, the cold feeling hadn’t left Mingyu as though he could still hear the woman gargling in his ear.

“Mingyu?”

He jerked as the second line suddenly came to life, Seokmin’s voice clear through the landline.

“H-Hey. Did you find anything?” He tried his level best not to sound shaken, but it was hard because the more he tried to ignore wherever had just happened, the more the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach grew.

“Nothing. We will be needing to get a more specific address. Your entire apartment seems safe to me. Is she still on the line?”

Mingyu exhaled harshly, rubbing his chest with his hand to calm down his heart that was beating too fast. He then realised how dry his throat had become, and quickly took a sip of water before continuing.

“No. She cut the call. I- uh, I don’t think she needs help anymore. She sounded alright at the end.” He said, wincing having to lie. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling of horror he had felt when he saw his own address flash on to the screen.

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we follow the protocol still-”

“She told me so herself.” Mingyu snapped, and Seokmin shut up, not saying anything more.

He sighed, rubbing his template, trying to forget what he had just heard. But it was like the noise had been ingrained into his brain. He could hear it even now, even though there were many other small sounds beside him.

But being a 911 operator, there was bound to be such horrors, right? He had heard some similar stories of ghost calls from his superiors. Maybe this was one of them?

“Well then…I suppose that’s it huh?” Seokmin cut the silence, causing Mingyu to flinch as he jumped out of his thoughts. “Are you calling it a night?”

Mingyu felt his heart leap to his throat.

Calling it a night? On any other day, he would have loved to crash on to his bed but all of a sudden going back to his house, the place where this lady claimed to be at, seemed like a distant nightmare, something which was waiting for him to tear him apart.

“Uh, n-no. I’ll continue my shift I think. Besides, Seungcheol won’t wake up if I call him now.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Seokmin asked, concern lacing his voice. “You sound…scared.”

“I’m fine.” Mingyu swallowed thickly, feeling a patch of sweat that had formed on his forehead as he tried rubbing his temples.

“We’ve dealt with these before, right?” Seokmin asked again, trying to sound bolder for his sake.

“Y-yeah. Yeah. We have. I’ll… hang up now.”

As soon as the phone went down, Mingyu buried his face in his hands, trying to forget the horrible sounds he had heard on the phone.

But the more he tried to forget them, the more he was convinced that they were no more voices in his head, but were coming from the room. It was almost like he could hear the noise coming from behind the door.

I’m probably just hearing things.

He got up and decided to get some fresh air. He walked to the door and paused, the sound still ringing in his ears. Clutching the door knob, he took in a deep breath and with his eyes screwed shut he turned it open, bracing himself for whatever lay ahead of his.

Silence greeted him as he slowly peeled his eyes open, looking around tentatively for anything that might jump on him out of the dark. 

Ding!

The sound of the elevator’s beep caused his heart to nearly stop, the sudden sound cutting through silent night that was almost engulfing him. He felt his entire body freeze as all he could do was watch the numbers on the screen of the lift increase until it reached his floor, limbs paralysed with fear. 

With another soft ding! the lift door began sliding open, and Mingyu found himself almost begging that he shouldn’t be greeted by someone, or something, once the lift door opened.

The dim blue light of the lift spilt out as Mingyu watched in terror, but to his relief only emptiness greeted him back. He looked at his own reflection in the mirror of the elevator. 

Mingyu looked deathly pale, his eyes tired and haggard like he had just seen a ghost. His cheeks were hollow and he felt his stomach lurch when his reflection wobbled, indicating that that the lift was about to close.

And then the lift shut close, leaving him alone with a pin drop silence that almost felt suffocating.

Weren’t there others who had night duty? Because there was no way he was all alone in the building, right?

The thought was enough to cause his stomach to lurch, and he swallowed thickly wondering if he should call someone to take his place.

But his house! Mingyu could feel goosebumps rising on his skin the second he thought of his house.

What if she- that thing was still lurking around his house? Or worse, was actually in his house.

The ringing of the telephone cut through the silence like a blade, causing him to jump a mile. His reflexes kicked in though, and clutching his painfully beating heart, Mingyu ran towards his computers to pick the emergency phone call.

“911. Please state your emergency-”

“Help.”

Mingyu froze, the familiar voice draining out all the blood from his cheeks again.

No way.

He wanted to cut the call, wanted to block out whatever this woman was about to beg for because her voice was like icy daggers to his skin, rekindling his fear like never before. Mingyu had never felt so terrified in his life before. 

“Please help… Mingyu.”

It was like her whispering his name had opened Pandora's box, and lots of emotions hit him at once. He couldn’t even question how she knew his name because that wasn’t what terrified him the most.

But it was the familiarity of the voice of the woman. A voice he used to hear almost every day before it was snuffed out of his life suddenly.

“Y/N.” He whispered, fear clutching his stomach as he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

In the empty office he could only hear his own ragged breathing and the slight buzzing sound coming from the phone.

But how was this possible?

Because you had died six months ago.

Or rather, you had been killed in his apartment. Murdered in cold blood even though it didn’t make sense because you were the sweetest and most caring person he had met in the world. 

At first, he had been charged with murder. Those two months of investigation had nearly driven him mad. It was hard as it is dealing with your death but constant poking of the police made it even worse.

Finally he was set free due to the lack of evidence. 

Even thinking about you made his head throb. 

“Help please.” You rasped again. “Help me-”

“Where are you?” He whispered urgently, not sure why he was even asking questions. Because this had to be some sort of sick joke, right? Or maybe- maybe he was hallucinating after all. Hallucinating that you had come back to life to get some sort of closure.

“In our apartment! Why aren’t you helping?” You sobbed on the other end of the line.

He felt his head spin. Whom was he even talking to? With each word your voice turned more and more raspy and he could feel the familiar fear returning.

“If you don’t help me he’ll-”

Mingyu heard you gasp, followed by a whimpering as he heard someone slap you.

“Y-Y/N?” He asked, though he truly didn’t want to know what had happened to you. Was the person you kept mentioning your real killer? Then… was this your ghost he was talking to?

“Stay away.” A male voice spoke into the telephone suddenly, causing him to nearly fall off his seat. The hair on his arms and necks stood up at the familiarity of the voice.

“Stay away." He repeated.

He could hear his own voice on the other side of the telephone line asking him to stay away and Mingyu felt his head spin at the thought.

The telephone nearly slipped from his sweaty hand as he tried taking in a deep breath to calm himself down.

"And- and who’s this-”

“Just stay away from us.” He heard his own voice command him, before the line disconnected finally.

“Who was that?”

Mingyu jumped from his seat, hands flying to his mouth to prevent himself from screaming, until his eyes landed on Seokmin.

“You- you scared me!” He hissed, rubbing his sweaty forehead while trying to calm his shaking body down. What had just happened?

No way he had been talking to himself, right? How was that even possible?

Seokmin raised an eyebrow, walking towards him and sitting down on a chair opposite to him?

“Did I scare you? Or that call did?”

Mingyu looked away.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine.” He snapped, wiping his sweaty face with a tissue. The last thing he needed was Seokmin asking too many questions before he started questioning his own sanity.

“You’re not. You asked the caller whether she was Y/N.”

Mingyu shivered involuntarily at the memory, giving away his fear.

“It sounded like her.” He lied, not wanting to remember what had just happened. Maybe if he was nonchalant about it Seokmin would leave him alone.

“Are you sure? That call before was unusual, coming from your house.” Seokmin said, still concerned. “It's okay to be shaken up by this, you know.”

He exhaled out, trying to calm down his nerves as much as he could.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Pretty sure it was a prank. I mean,” He forced out a laugh, which sounded odd against the silence surrounding the two of them, “How can it even be Y/N? That makes no sense. I probably miss her a lot. That’s why I can hear her everywhere.”

“You should go home.” Seokmin cut him, patting him on the shoulder. “I think you need to rest a bit if you’re that stressed out. Sometimes, stress causes us to see and hear things that are not real. ”

Mingyu opened his mouth to protest, feeling dread fill the pit of his stomach at the thought of going home, but with the way Seokmin was staring he knew he didn’t have an option. Or else he would need to explain how he heard his own voice speak to him and ask him to stay away.

Stay away.

Was that a warning, then? Was it a big mistake going back to his house?

But with the way Seokmin was staring at him, Mingyu had no other option but to get up slowly and pack up his things. His hands wobbled, causing him to nearly break his favourite mug, but he managed to force a smile and walk to the elevator, knees threatening to give out any second. 

Once inside the elevator, Mingyu chose to stare at his reflection’s nose, unable to meet its eyes. Something told him that seeing his reflection eye to eye would not be a good idea.

Please hurry up. Please open the door fast-

His heart jumped again as his phone rang suddenly, cutting the heavy cold silence which was accompanied by the occasional soft dings.

"Hello?” He whispered, wondering who was calling so late at night. It couldn’t have been Seokmin since he had his number saved, right?

“Why did you kill me?”

Mingyu froze, unable to breathe anymore. How did you-

“Y/N? How did you- Kill you- What are you talking about?” He panted, stumbling back to support his wobbly legs with the help of the wall of the lift.

All of a sudden the air felt cooler, and his clammy hands seemed to be unable to grip the hand bar of the lift. His eyes darted to the equally petrified reflection and a yelp escaped him, phone dropping to the ground.

Because standing right beside his reflection was you. You, looking just like how you had the day you were murdered. Except there was blood all over your dress and multiple stab marks on your chest and stomach.

You smiled at him sweetly. 

“Don’t you know? You killed me. Well, not exactly you. It was Mingyu. But he is you, you are him, right?”

His legs finally gave away as he pushed his back into the walls of the elevator, terror filling every single of his senses.

Helphelpelphelp-

He heard the lift ding as it reached the ground floor. Crawling to the buttons of the lift, he frantically pressed the open button, eyes not leaving your face as you grinned at him, baring your bloody and broken teeth.

Finally the door opened and Mingyu darted to crawl out but froze almost immediately, feeling his heart stop for real this time.

“No.” He sobbed, as he watched the real you walk towards him. Edging back, he felt his heart hammer painfully hard in his chest, every bit of rational thoughts leaving him as you stepped into the elevator.

You leaned towards him much to his terror, and Mingyu screwed his eyes shut as he finally accepted his fate. His breathing eased a bit but he could still feel how tense his entire body was, adrenaline rushing coursing throughout his body.

I don’t want to go.

“Now it’s time for me to return the favour.”

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

© 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐌 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[elryuse]

Fond Of You

Danielle X Male Reader

Tags : Female Boss, Co-worker Sex, Romance, Kisses, Dirty Words, Risky, Public Sex, Teasing

Words : 3,920 Words

“What are you doing?” Danielle’s voice cut through the dimly lit hotel room, her tone sharp but laced with something else—something softer, like she already knew the answer.

I froze, halfway to the couch, a pillow clutched in my hands. “I-uh... I was just going to sleep here. On the couch. You know, so you could have the bed.”

She crossed her arms, her piercing gaze locking onto mine. The rain outside hammered against the windows, a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding in my chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. That couch is a death sentence for your back. You’re sharing the bed.”

“Danielle, I can’t—”

“You will,” she interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “It’s just one night. We’re adults. We can handle it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Handle it? That was the problem. I wasn’t sure I could. Not with her.

It had been a hell of a day. The kind of day where everything that could go wrong, did. The project deadline had been moved up, and Danielle had been in full boss mode—demanding, exacting, and utterly captivating. She always was. Her presence commanded the room, her sharp wit and even sharper eyes cutting through any flimsy excuses. I admired her. Hell, I’d had a crush on her for as long as I could remember. But it was more than that. It was the way she pushed me, believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. She made me want to be better.

But tonight, after hours of overtime and a torrential downpour that flooded the streets, we found ourselves stranded. The office was empty, and neither of us could get a cab or an Uber. The hotel down the street was our only option.

And now, standing in this room, the tension between us was thicker than the humid summer air outside.

Danielle sighed, running a hand through her dark, wavy hair. “Look, I’m not going to bite. Just... get in the bed.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. This was my boss. My boss. The woman who’d read me the riot act more times than I could count. The woman who made my heart skip a beat every time she walked into a room. The woman who, right now, was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. I set the pillow back on the bed and climbed in, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. The mattress dipped slightly as Danielle joined me, her warmth radiating across the small space.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the rain outside and the faint hum of the air conditioner. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

“You’re really tense,” she said after a while, her voice softer now. “Relax.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

She turned onto her side, facing me. I could feel her gaze on me, even in the dark. “You know, you’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are.”

“Hiding what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“How you feel about me.”

My breath caught in my throat. I turned my head to look at her, my eyes wide. “Danielle, I—”

Before I could finish, she leaned in and kissed me.

It was soft at first, tentative, like she was testing the waters. But when I didn’t pull away, when I kissed her back, her hand slid up to cradle my cheek, deepening the kiss. Her lips were warm, insistent, and everything I’d ever dreamed they’d be.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my heart racing. “Danielle…”

“I’ve always wanted this,” she whispered, her eyes searching mine. “But I couldn’t… I couldn’t let myself.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your boss. Because it’s complicated. Because…” She trailed off, her thumb brushing against my cheek. “Because I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of this. Of us.” She leaned in again, her lips brushing against mine as she spoke. “But I can’t fight it anymore. Not tonight.”

Her words sent a jolt of desire through me, and I pulled her closer, our bodies pressing together as our lips met again. This kiss was hungrier, more urgent, months—no, years—of pent-up longing finally breaking free.

Her hands slid down my chest, trailing over the fabric of my shirt before tugging it up. I helped her pull it off, her fingers immediately returning to explore my bare skin. Her touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine as she mapped every inch of me.

I reached for her blouse, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. She laughed softly, a sound that made my heart swell, and helped me undo them. When the fabric fell away, revealing her lace bra, I couldn’t help but stare. She was stunning.

“Like what you see?” she teased, her voice low and husky.

“You have no idea,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. My hands moved to her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away. Her breasts were perfect, full and soft, and I couldn’t resist touching them, my thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened under my touch.

She moaned softly, her hips grinding against mine as I continued to explore her body. My hand slid down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her skirt. She was already wet, her arousal evident as my fingers found her clit.

“God, you’re so wet,” I whispered against her lips.

“For you,” she breathed, her hips bucking against my hand. “Always for you.”

Her words ignited something primal in me, and I moved down her body, trailing kisses along her skin until I reached her panties. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, tossing them aside before spreading her legs. Her pussy was glistening, and I couldn’t resist the urge to taste her.

I pressed my tongue to her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Her hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as I began to lick and suck, savoring the way she tightened around me with every stroke.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed as I pushed two fingers inside her. She was tight, her walls clenching around me as I curled my fingers, searching for the spot that would make her scream.

When I found it, she arched off the bed, a loud cry escaping her lips. “Yes! Right there, right there!”

I continued to work her with my fingers and tongue, her pleasure building until she came with a shuddering cry, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm.

But she wasn’t done. As soon as she caught her breath, she pushed me onto my back, straddling my hips. Her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me as she positioned herself over me.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto mine. “I’ve always wanted you.”

She sank down onto me, her tight heat enveloping me as she took me in inch by inch. I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she began to move, riding me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove me wild.

Her breasts bounced with every movement, and I reached up to cup them, squeezing and teasing her nipples until she moaned. Her pace quickened, her hips rolling against mine as she chased her pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I groaned, my hands moving to her ass, giving it a sharp smack.

She yelped in surprise, but the look in her eyes was pure desire. “Do it again,” she demanded, her voice breathless.

I obliged, spanking her again and again as she rode me, each slap driving her closer to the edge. When she finally came, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

With a groan, I thrust up into her, my release crashing over me as I filled her. She collapsed onto my chest, both of us panting as we came down from our high.

For a long moment, we just lay there, tangled together, the sound of our breathing the only noise in the room. Finally, Danielle lifted her head, a soft smile on her lips.

"I’ve always wanted this," she whispered, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest. "But now that I have it, I don’t ever want to let it go."

I smiled back, my heart full. "You don’t have to."

She leaned in for another kiss, slow and sweet this time. But as the kiss deepened, I could feel the heat building between us again. Her hand slid down my chest, her fingers wrapping around my cock, already hardening under her touch.

"Looks like someone’s ready for round two," she teased, her voice low and sultry.

I groaned, my hips bucking into her hand. "You’re insatiable."

She smirked, shifting her body so she was straddling me once more. "You have no idea."

And as she sank back down onto me, I knew this night was far from over.

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear as her breath sent shivers down my spine. “You’ve been such a good boy for me,” she purred, her voice dripping with temptation. Her hips rocked gently, her wet pussy teasing the tip of my cock, barely letting me in before pulling back. The sensation was maddening, every inch of me begging for more.

“Danielle,” I groaned, my hands gripping her thighs, trying to guide her down onto me. But she resisted, her smirk widening as she looked down at me with those fiery eyes.

“Patience,” she whispered, her voice teasing. “I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

Her words sent a jolt of electricity through me, my cock twitching beneath her. She shifted her hips again, this time letting me feel the warmth of her entrance, the slickness of her arousal coating me. But just as I thought she’d finally let me in, she pulled back, her laughter soft and teasing.

“Danielle, please,” I begged, my voice strained.

She tilted her head, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Please what?” she asked, her tone innocent, but her eyes were anything but.

“I need to be inside you,” I said, the words coming out in a rush.

Her smile was wicked as she leaned in closer, her lips just inches from mine. “Say it again,” she whispered.

“I need to be inside you,” I repeated, my voice trembling with need.

“Good boy,” she murmured, finally lowering herself onto me, my cock sliding into her wet, tight pussy inch by agonizing inch. I gasped, my hands tightening on her thighs as she took me in completely, her moan mingling with mine.

She moved slowly at first, her hips rocking in a deliberate rhythm, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. Her nails dug into my chest as she leaned back, her head tipping back as she let out a soft moan. “So good,” she breathed, her voice filled with satisfaction.

I couldn’t take it anymore. My hips bucked up into her, setting a faster pace as I thrust into her, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the room. She cried out, her fingers tangling in the sheets as she rode me with abandon, her pussy squeezing me tightly.

“Fuck, Danielle,” I groaned, my hands moving to her hips, guiding her movements as we found a rhythm that drove us both wild. Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she got closer to the edge.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice desperate. “I’m so close.”

I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to make her come undone, to feel her clench around me as she fell apart. My thumb found her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as I thrust into her, the combination driving her over the edge.

Her scream echoed through the room as she came, her pussy tightening around me as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. I followed her soon after, my own climax hitting me hard as I spilled inside her, my body shaking with the intensity of it.

We stayed like that for a moment, both of us catching our breath as the aftershocks of our orgasms faded. Finally, she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

I smiled, my hands moving to cradle her face. “You’re amazing,” I said, my voice filled with adoration.

She chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes as she shifted off of me, lying down beside me. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.

I turned to look at her, my heart swelling with affection. “I’ve always wanted this,” I admitted, my voice soft.

“Me too,” she confessed, her eyes meeting mine. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

“I do,” I said, cupping her cheek. “I’ve always felt it.”

She smiled, her hand covering mine. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” she said, her voice filled with determination.

I grinned, pulling her closer as I kissed her deeply, our bodies melding together as we lost ourselves in each other once more. She moaned into the kiss, her hands roaming over my body, igniting the fire between us all over again.

Her lips trailed down my neck, her teeth nipping at my skin as she moved lower, her tongue flicking over my nipple, making me gasp. “Danielle,” I breathed, my cock already hardening again.

She looked up at me, her eyes dark with desire. “I’m not done with you yet,” she said, her voice a sultry promise.

She shifted between my legs, her lips wrapping around the tip of my cock, her tongue swirling around it as she tasted me. I groaned, my hands tangling in her hair as she took me deeper, her mouth a hot, wet heaven around me.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my hips bucking into her mouth as she sucked me with a rhythm that threatened to drive me out of my mind. Her hands gripped my thighs, her nails digging into my skin as she took me to the edge, her moans vibrating against my cock.

“Danielle, I’m gonna—” I started, but she pulled back, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Not yet,” she said, climbing back up to kiss me, my cock trapped between our bodies as she ground against me.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she moved against me.

She laughed, her fingers tracing my lips. “But what a way to go,” she teased, her hips rocking in just the right way to make me see stars.

I flipped her over, my body covering hers as I kissed her deeply, my cock sliding into her pussy again, both of us gasping at the sensation. She wrapped her legs around me, her nails scratching down my back as I thrust into her, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

“You feel so good,” she moaned, her voice filled with pleasure.

“So do you,” I said, my voice strained as I buried myself deeper inside her.

Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she got closer to the edge once more. I felt her pussy clench around me, her orgasm hitting her hard as she cried out, her body arching against mine.

I followed her soon after, my own climax hitting me with such intensity that I thought I might pass out from the pleasure. We clung to each other, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high, our bodies still joined.

Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “This is just the beginning,” she whispered, her voice filled with promise.

But before I could respond, her lips found mine again, her kiss filled with a passion that left me breathless. Her nails grazed down my back, sending shivers through me as she whispered against my lips, “I’m not done with you yet.”

The room was still filled with the heavy scent of sex, our bodies tangled together on the bed, slick with sweat and satisfaction. Danielle’s fingers traced idle patterns on my chest, her breath warm against my skin. Her nails dragged lightly, sending shivers down my spine every time they grazed over a sensitive spot. I could feel her heartbeat, steady but still slightly elevated, pressed against me. She tilted her head up, her fiery eyes meeting mine, and that smirk—the one that always made my stomach twist—played on her lips.

“You’re thinking too much,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. Her fingers trailed lower, dancing over my stomach, and I felt my body react instinctively. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Always so eager, aren’t you?”

I swallowed hard, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “You’re hard not to be eager for.”

Her smirk widened, and she shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. Her hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face, and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear. “Good answer,” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. “But I think I want more than just eager. I want you desperate.”

Her hand slid lower, wrapping around my cock, and I groaned, my hips bucking reflexively. She laughed again, a low, sultry sound that sent heat pooling in my gut. “Not yet,” she teased, her grip tightening just enough to make me ache. “I have other plans for you.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she pulled away, sliding off the bed with a grace that left me breathless. She turned to face me, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and my gaze raked over her body—the curve of her hips, the way her breasts moved with every breath, the faint marks I’d left on her skin earlier. She was perfection, and the way she looked at me made it clear she knew it.

“Come here,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. She didn’t wait for me to move, though; she reached out, her fingers curling around my wrist, pulling me to my feet. My body followed hers eagerly, my cock throbbing as she led me toward the balcony doors. The curtains were still drawn, the rain outside barely a whisper now, but the air was cool and damp.

She turned to me, her back pressed against the glass, and her hands slid up my chest, her nails scratching lightly. “You’ve always been so good for me,” she murmured, her voice dripping with temptation. “Always so obedient, so willing to follow my lead. I like that about you.”

I swallowed hard, my hands finding her hips, pulling her closer. “I’d do anything for you,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Her eyes darkened, and she tilted her head, her lips brushing against mine. “Prove it,” she whispered. “Let me ride your cock on the balcony.”

My breath hitched, and my grip on her hips tightened. “Danielle—” I started, but she cut me off with a kiss, her lips fierce and demanding. Her tongue slid against mine, and I groaned, my hands moving to cup her ass, lifting her slightly. She broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she stared at me, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and challenge.

“Do it,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Fuck me where anyone could see us. Show me how much you want me.”

The idea sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I hesitated for only a moment before I lifted her fully, her legs wrapping around my waist. She gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders as I carried her to the balcony, the cool night air hitting our skin as I pushed the door open. The rain had stopped, but the air was still damp, the city lights glittering below us.

I set her down on the railing, her hands gripping the edge as she leaned back, her body open and inviting. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a hunger that matched my own, and she spread her legs wider, her pussy glistening in the dim light. “Take me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I stepped forward, my cock sliding between her folds, and she moaned, her head falling back. I gripped her hips, positioning myself, and slowly pushed inside her, her warmth enveloping me in the most intoxicating way. She gasped, her nails digging into my arms as I filled her completely, and I paused, savoring the way her body clenched around me.

“God, you feel so good,” she moaned, her voice breathless. “Fuck me, baby. Make me yours.”

I didn’t need any more encouragement. I started to move, my hips thrusting into her with a rhythm that made her cry out, her body arching against mine. Her breasts bounced with every movement, and I leaned down, capturing one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard. She moaned louder, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

The sound of her pleasure, the way her body moved with mine, the way she clung to me like she never wanted to let go—it was all too much, and I felt my orgasm building, the pressure in my gut coiling tighter and tighter. But I wasn’t ready to let go yet. I wanted to make her come first, to hear her scream my name as she fell apart.

I shifted slightly, angling my hips to hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, and her breath hitched, her body tensing. “Yes,” she gasped, her nails digging into my back. “Right there.”

I kept the pace steady, my thrusts deep and deliberate, and I felt her pussy tighten around me, her walls fluttering as she got closer to the edge. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and she pulled my hair hard, forcing me to look up at her. Her eyes were filled with pure, unbridled desire, and she licked her lips, her voice trembling as she begged, “Make me come, baby. I need to come.”

That was all it took. I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit, and I pressed down hard, circling it quickly. She screamed, her body arching off the railing as her orgasm hit her, her pussy clenching around my cock so tightly it almost hurt. I groaned, my own climax crashing over me, and I buried myself deep inside her, spilling myself into her with a force that left me trembling.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies pressed together, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high. Finally, I pulled back, carefully lifting her off the railing and carrying her inside. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and I could feel her smile against my skin.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, her voice soft and filled with affection. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

I chuckled, my hands tightening around her as I carried her back to the bed. “Neither am I.”