#definitely has been asked before but I’ll always reply bc

[potato-lord-but-not]

All right, all right, I'll go read discworld now, jeez. But I'm going to grumble about it the whole time (joking, been meaning to anyway, your art just helped the process along 🤣)

Any recommendations on where to start? For a complete newbie whose only contact with Sir Pratchett's work has been his joint effort with Neil Gaiman, Good Omens? Google is unclear 🤣

(sorry if this has been asked a billion times before, feel free to ignore if so 👍)

the discworld propaganda is back in full swing bb !!

I’ll always recommend going postal !!! it’s my absolute fav and definitely an easy one to start with! buttt I did see Sybil caught your eye, in that case I’d recommend guards! guards!, it’s the first book in the watch sub series, and the first one she shows up in!!

[roonilwazlibimagines]

control freak pt.2 - t.n x female!reader

Blurb: theo has control issues but his girlfriend doesn't mind

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: warning - toxic!theo!! i also really don't like this but so many people wanted me to post it and i don't see myself making it better anytime soon so i thought i'd post it even though i hate it, sorry :/// i mainly hate it because it is just pure self indulgence, because my ex best friends actually did ruin my 21st and this brought up old wounds so if anyone wants to hear some gossip about people they don't know please hit me up because i'm ready to rant

also i'm so sorry of this is overstepping, but i tagged whoever asked for part 2 bc you all made me so happy commenting on my post <3333 @gilmore12 @avalentina @pretties-t

Masterlist | Part 1

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

If she had her way, people would stop calling Theodore Nott controlling. Okay, maybe there had been times where he had lied to her and deceived to get his way, and sure, he was quick to rise to temper which often made her just agree with him, but it was just because he always knew what was best. 

And that was what she kept repeating in her trembling mind the night that Theo had made the phone call. 

She liked this side of him. She had said it to him explicitly that she liked it when he took control and she didn’t have to actively use her brain. 

After a year of dating, she thought Theo would be used to her indecisiveness, and yet, she was sat on the edge of his bed, all dressed up, whilst he he towered over her, waiting for her to make up her mind. 

“It cannot be this difficult of a decision.” 

“I just don’t know what I feel like.” Her legs were swaying, the backs of her thighs hitting the blanket draped over the edge of her bed. She hummed in thought, noticing the way Theo’s jaw began to tick. 

“What about that Mexican place?” This was the third place he had offered and even he noted the desperation in his voice.

“Do you want to go there?”

Theo had had enough. He knew the pretty girl sitting in front of him was hopeless at making decisions, but this was too far. 

“We’re going to the pizza place you like, okay?” Before she could open her mouth he continued, “C’mon, get up, we’re going.” And his arm was shooting out towards her so she grabbed hold of it and kept her mouth shut. 

And it was only after they left Hogwarts that she admitted to her pretty boyfriend that she liked when he ordered for her, because that was what he always did. And once he had this admission, Theo made sure his pretty girlfriend never had to make an order for whatever it was her heart desired. 

“I don’t know what a feel like, maybe I’ll just get cheese.” She put the pizza menu down and looked at Theo who was already looking back at her. 

“Sounds good.” He wasn’t too interested in the topic of the conversation, but he always made sure the pretty girl in front of him had his full attention. 

“What are you getting?” 

Theo knew what would happen the second he answered, and like clockwork, she immediately replied, “Ooh, maybe I’ll get that too.” 

“You can have some of mine,” he offered.

“But yours sounds better.” 

“We can have half of each.” 

But she wasn’t listening, her attention was drawn back to the paper menu in front of her. 

“I think I’m going to get vegetarian, instead,” she hummed.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

He watched her bit her bottom lip, and the skin above her nose crinkle. 

“Nah, I’ll get cheese.” Before Theo could respond she continued, “No, vegetarian.” Theo didn’t respond. “No, definitely cheese.” 

“You sure?” 

“No.” 

And Theo thought he really couldn’t be to blame for his control issues when his girlfriend was like this. 

When the waiter came over and looked at her first, she gave them a polite smile, but then returned her attention to the pretty boy in front of her, undeterred by the waiters lack of attention and relaying their order in full confidence. 

“-and a vegetarian pizza please,” he finished, making the decision for her. 

She liked not having to worry about trivial things like this, and Theo liked making sure he could rid a worry as small as this. Because that was all he wanted. For her to receive the best. 

Which was why, the night after her friends had called him controlling, he decided that he didn’t like the sound of these ‘work friends’.

And, no, it wasn’t just because they had caled him controlling. Merlin, most of his friends told him to his face that he was controlling. He already knew that. 

It was because even though they had invited her to go out countless times since that night, he didn’t properly meet them until her birthday. 

He had offered to bring them in when he brought her in, but she brushed him off. 

“I offered, but they declined,” she shrugged her shoulders, looking at the mirror in the sun shade for the passenger seat, missing the way Theo kept glancing over to her. 

When he picked her up he asked again if anyone needed a ride home, just like the good boyfriend he was. 

“I offered, but they said they were fine.” Yet when the drover around the corner a small sound of surprise left her pretty lips. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” Theo’s eyes kept flicking away from the road, trying to read her pretty face that was staring out of her window. 

“Nothing,” she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to face him, giving him a faux reassuring look. 

“Tell me,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument. 

“They’re just in line for another club,” she gave another shrug as if this had no importance, but it did to Theo because he could tell, even though she tried to hide it, that it had importance to the pretty girl sitting next to him. 

“I thought you were all going home,” he squinted his eyes slightly as he turned to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. When they drove past a light, he could see that she was chewing the edge of her lip. 

“I thought so,” she shrugged, finally turning to him, “oh well, I was ready to go home anyway.” She gave him a smile and if Theo hadn’t spent three years of his life with her, he would be convinced she was fine. 

It didn’t take long for Theo to decide that he didn’t like these so called friends. He didn’t explicitly tell his girlfriend this, but he didn’t hide his disdain either. 

When they cancelled plans and she went over to his house instead he’d angrily ask, “Well did they tell you why?”

“One of them had other dinner plans.” 

“But you had planned this a week ago.” 

She shrugged, “something came up.” 

The look he gave her was enough for her to know that he wasn’t happy so she changed the subject. “I really want to watch this new movie tonight, I don’t think you’ll love it, but I think you’ll tolerate it.” 

When he got a phone call from her barely an hour after they had gone out, reassuring him that she was okay, but she wanted to go home, he’d demand, “It was them wasn’t it, what did they do?” 

And even though he hadn’t said who ‘them’ were she’d still say, “no I’m just not feeling up to partying tonight.” 

Even though she sheepishly admitted that they were more interested in hooking up with some random guys then staying out together for their girls night which she originally thought was the plan. 

“That’s horrible.” 

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Do you think we can stop for some ice cream on the way home though?” 

The reality was, it was easy for her to say that Theo was just being his usual controlling herself. This was how normal friendships worked. And she didn’t have a lot of friends. She had her Hogwarts friends, but they were older now and weren’t in contact as much. And it was a much easier thought that this was what friendship was like rather than facing the fact that she didn’t really have any friends. Besides Theo of course. 

But she wouldn’t tell him these thoughts because she knew he would go on a rampage unti she was happy, so she never expanded on it and made sure that Theo never got a chance to tell her he hated her friends, even if she was certain he despised them. 

A few months later, just after they had been together for four years, Theo knew that it was time to make his lovely girlfriend his lovely wife, and he wasn’t going to let her friends come in the way of that, not when they had gotten this far. 

They had a small engagement party with their friends from Hogwarts and a couple of their work friends. She had, of course, invited those two girl from work, even if Theo had rolled his eyes behind her back when she informed him. 

It started when the two girls started fawning over her ring. 

“I need to know how much this cost.” 

Sure, Theo was the first to admit he had traditional values. She had teased him before about being old-fashioned. But he didn’t think discussing the price of his fiance’s engagement ring was an appropriate topic, especially in front of two girls he had maybe met twice, and didn’t exactly like. 

“He refuses to tell me,” the pretty girl grabbing his hand had answered instead. “He’s too old fashioned.” 

Her eyes flickered to him to let him know that she was joking and he gave her hand a itte squeeze to let her know that he knew. 

“Oh come on,” one of them said, “I’m dying to know.” 

The conversation lasted another couple of minutes with his pretty girl trying to swerve around the question while he remained silent. Which was unusual for Theodore Nott. 

Sure, he was a man of little words. And he much preferred to sit and observe rather than get invovled in the action. But that was always the opposite when it came to the pretty girl next to him. But he thought that if he opened his mouth, none of the three girls around him would like what would come out. 

But then it continued when one of them tried to flirt with Blaise albeit his polite refusal, not wanting to make a scene at one of his best mate’s engagements. 

Theo didn’t think anything of it until she had the audacity to come over to him and ask him about it. 

“You know your friend Blaise?” 

“Obviously.”

“What’s his story?” 

Theo refused to answer. They were in a private room and he was standing next to the bar, a drink in hand and he sipped it to avoid responding. 

Unsprusingly, she continued anyway. 

“Like, is he in a relationship? I didn’t think he was but then he refused me, but he is quite fit, I think, and he said this wasn’t the place for it, but I think he was just playing hard to get, what do you think?”

He was going to be drunk quite soon if she kept talking to him. 

“I think I’ll try again. Merliln, I love being friends with someone who has hot friends.” 

Theo downed the rest of his drink and promised himself that he was going to push the conversation out of his mind. 

And he probably would have if his pretty girl didn’t come up to him with a nervous look in her eyes, less than thirty minutes later. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think we coud do cake now?”

Everyone had just finished eating and the volume of the music had increased to encourage people to start dancing. She was on her tippy toes, bringing her lips close to his ear so he could hear. Theo had his next drink in hand, but he was sipping it sowly after drinking the last so fast. 

“We just finished eating darling, give it a minute.” 

“I know but-” she gave herself away when she turned to look at the two girls Theo was trying to ignore the whole night. “They need to leave.” 

“They need to?”

The way she biting her lip and swaying on the spot was all Theo needed to see to tell him that that his pretty girl was lying to him. 

“Well, they got a call from one of their friends and-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Theo,” she whined. She knew the exact tone she needed to use to make Theo do whatever she wanted. But this apparently only worked for frivolous things. Not something like this. 

“No, we are doing cake later. If they need to leave, let them. But we are not doing it now just for them.”

“But-”

“I said no.” 

He hated the way she practically deflated in front of him. 

He hated that her bottom lip was trembling. 

He hated that they were doing this on their engagement. 

But she had to stop making excuses for these horrible people. 

“Will you tell them no?” Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure he would have understood her if he wasn’t watching her intently. 

“I’ll tell them more than just no.” 

“Theo,” she whined, but he had already put his drink down and was storming over to them. 

“So you’re leaving?” Theo asked the two girls sitting down at one of the tabes. He had risen to his full height and she was immediately taken back to her Hogwarts days when rising to his full height meant nothing good and definitely something physical. 

“Yeah, but we’ll wait until you do cake.” One of them responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

She was squeezing his hand so hard Theo was convinced she’d leave bruises. Not that he minded. But her nervous energy was rubbing off on him and he wanted to send her away, just like he’d do back in Hogwarts when he’d rise to his full height. 

“Well we just ate, so we probably won’t do cake until later.” 

“Oh,” one of the girls said, “but we’re leaving now.” 

“Well, thank you for coming.”

“Ok,” the other said, standing up. “But I tought you said you’d do cake now?” She asked, turning to the small girl hiding behind her fiance. 

“I-” 

“I said it was too early.” Theo cut her off. 

And that was the end of that conversation. After a very awkward goodbye hug, the two girls had left. 

She didn’t know what to say to Theo. In once instance, she was glad that he had dealt with it. She didn’t really want to do the cake now, it was too early. But she also didn’t want to confront the two girls, she had to see them at work every day!

So even though Theo wanted to let out some sarcastic remark about how nice her friends were. He refrained when he saw the confused look on his pretty girls face. 

Upon reflection, this was the night everything turned messy. 

The next Monday the two girls had confided in their friend. 

“Don’t you think he’s a bit controlling?” One of them asked, trying to make their voice unaccusing but failing horribly. 

She shrugged as she said, “he means well. And, yeah, he is, but I don’t mind.” 

She didn’t dare tell Theo this, who, the night after the engagement, had decided he could bring up how much he hated her friends. 

“I don’t like them.” He had brought up after they had finished opening all of their well wishes. 

She already knew who he was talking about. 

“They mean well.”

“Do they?” He was sitting on the lounge and she had gotten up from her place on the floor to sit next to him. 

“Most of the time,” she laughed, even though he didn’t think it was funny. “They’re just different to us.” 

“Well I don’t like them.” 

She bit her lip. 

“I’m sorry.” Theodore gave her a look. Of course it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t control who she worked with. 

“I just wish they treated you better.” She thought that if they continued with this conversation she’d start crying so she changed the conversation. 

“We have to thank Draco for his very generous gift.” 

Theo wanted to tell her that if he had his way, she would never see them again. He’d help her find a new job, or better yet, she wouldn’t have to work. His family were part of the Sacred 28, she didn’t need to work. 

But even with his controlling streak, he knew that might be a bit too far. 

That was until a couple of months later when it was her birthday. Theo had surprised her with a little trip that required her to take a couple of weeks off work. Which he had already organised. 

The two girls were bummed when she said this would mean she wouldn’t be having a birthday party. 

“But we can still party when I get back!” She had exclaimed.

“So I won’t get to see Blaise again? I really thought I had a shot.” She had gotten in response. 

Theo had organised for her to have a week off before they actually left and on the night before he could finally have her all to himself she was sitting with her head against the back of their bed, biting her lip and staring at her phone. 

“What’s wrong princess?” Theo had asked, lying down next to her. 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He repeated. 

“I just, it’s stupid.” She said, turning her phone off and letting her head rest on the pillow next to his. 

“If it makes you look that stressed I’m sure it’s not.” 

“It’s just, they haven’t messaged me all week.” 

Theo already knew who they were. 

Theo wasn’t sure why this frivolous thing was his tipping point but for some reason it was. 

She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but it felt good to get off her chest. 

“I messaged them on Monday to say I’d miss them and hoped work wasn’t too boring without me, but they haven’t replied.” Her voice broke at the end of the sentence and Theo was convinced that was why he had chosen now to tip. 

“Don’t message them.” 

“What?” She turned her head to face him. 

“Don’t message them, see how long it takes for them to reach out.”

“Theo, you’re being ridiculous.” He gave her a look to let her know he didn’t like the words that left her pretty mouth. “We’re going away, I want to enjoy my time with you, don’t do this.” 

Much to his annoyance, Theo did as she said, trying to put it to the back of his mind so they could enjoy the trip he had been planning for months. 

But a part of her thought back to what Theo had said many years ago in his car when they were going home from Draco’s. 

“I know what’s best.” 

And she had spent so many years with Theo and there was a reason for this. She trusted him. So even though she made no commitment to it, a piece of her thought that she would listen to his advice. 

For the actual day of her birthday, Theo had planned a special dinner for her. He had gone to extreme lengths to make sure her day was perfect, which was why he couldn’t understand why his girl had a sad aura around her as she got ready for dinner. 

“What’s wrong, princess?”

“Nothing, Theo,” she said, trying to look up at him with sincerity. They were both dressed and ready, standing in their hotel room with their hands intertwined. 

“Princess.” 

“I’m just-” she looked at the ground, “they haven’t messaged me.” 

“Since we left?” 

She nodded. 

“Not even today?” 

She shook her head. 

Theo was ready to apparate back home and give them a piece of his mind, but instead he grabbed her chin and made her look up at him. 

“Please don’t worry your pretty little head about this, they don’t deserve you.” 

She was shocked with his response. She was sure he was going to apparate home and give them a piece of his mind. But he didn’t. And he was a calm in a very un-Theo like manner. And she liked it. So she trusted him. 

So he took her out for dinner and he made her feel like the most special girl in the world. And he did the same for the rest of their trip. 

On the last day they were both on their backs, lying in bed. The bedside lamp was on and Theo turned to see her eyes closed, but a pretty smile gracing her lips that told him she was awake. 

“Darling,” she opened her eyes and turned to him, humming in acknowledgement. “I called work today, told them to give you an extra week off.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a fraction of a second before she pieced the pieces together and nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

Theo had also taken a week off work to be with herand he became aware that her mood was quick to fluctuate.

After her birthday, Theo distracted her and she was happy. But the day before he could sense the nervous energy radiating from her being which magically disappeared the second he told her he had told work to give her another week. 

Similarly, he noticed she was okay when she was distracted during that extra week off. Until the weekend came. 

It was Saturday night and she was in the shower and Theo had been thinking about this for a while. He knew it was wrong. Knew it was crossing so many lines. But he couldn’t let his fiance suffer like this. 

He grabbed her phone from the bedside table and put in her password. He scrolled through her messages. Many of the last messages being from her, thanking various people for the kind birthday messages. When he found the groupchat he was looking for, he didn’t hesitate. 

The last message had been from her, the week before they left. Theo swore at them in his head. 

This is Theo, I think it’s best you delete her number from your phone. She won’t be coming back to work and she deserves better than the shit you’ve given her. 

Theo almost found it humorous that within seconds he got a reply. 

What the fuck? 

Look who’s talking

He scoffed at both of their replies and waited unti they stopped typing. 

You literally control everything she does

Maybe if she didn’t have such a controlling boyfriend we’d be able to have more fun with her

Theo debated blocking their number, but he just couldn’t resist. 

Right, like the fun you had with her on our engagement? Before you left after barely an hour for some random guy

It was silent for a minute. 

Before you practically kicked us out

Theo let out a quiet laugh

We love her and just want what’s best for her

Theo heard the shower turn off and his heart dropped. 

Yeah, and that’s why you never wished her happy birthday. Fuck off

And with that he blocked both numbers, deleted the group chat from her history, turned her phone off and put it where he found it. 

That was the easy part. Now he just had to convince her not to go to work. 

She came out of the shower, only a towel wrapped around her body, loose strands of hair falling from her bun. 

He could sense an unspoken sadness and he wondered if she could sense his unspoken annoyance. 

“Darling, “ he began, sitting on the edge of the bed as she made her way over to him. If he didn’t have a job to complete, he would’ve taken more time to appreciate the way she instinctively sat on his lap. “I’ve been thinking,” he cleared his throat as she looked up at him. The image of innocence on her pretty face. “Do you really want to work?” 

Apparently it wasn’t too hard to convince her to give it up. He had started explaining, “You know, you’re marrying into the Sacred 28 and I don’t want you to feel like I’m making you give it up-” which he totally was, “but I just want what’s best for you and-”

“Theo,” she interrupted. “I’d like that.” And she gave him a swift kiss before getting up and getting changed into her pyjamas. 

When she came back and joined him in bed he turned to her and said, “I’ll ring them tomorrow,” and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

She wasn’t stupid. She had been waiting weeks for a message from them and when she couldn’t even find the groupchat she knew something had happened. Knew that Theo was somehow involved. She debated asking him about it, but did she really want to know? She knew it must have happened while she was in the shower. She could practically hear Theo’s heart beating when she was sitting on his lap, but she was happy to live in denial. Her boyfriend was protective and he liked to look out for her, even if it sometimes crossed the line. But she was happy to put the blame on her two friends, and she fell asleep easy that night knowing that the boy who had his arm around her would always have her back.

[ipseitydelrey]

Hello! I would like to submit a request for Elle Greenaway x fem!Reader. How about spending holidays with Elle trying to cheer her up after leaving the BAU/starting a new life together? Thank you for your time!

oooo the power this prompt holds…i’ve always wondered what might have happened to elle after she left

when memories snow ☆ e. greenaway

ship elle greenaway x fem!reader

warnings slight angst, pre-established relationship, hurt/comfort but it’s definitely comfort, timeline’s a mess just pretend that the episode where elle quits aired in december and not october okay?, not beta-read

word count 895

summary after elle quits the BAU following the events of s2:e5, reader tries to cheer her up during the holidays.

a/n yeah the title is a mitski reference, dont blame me i love her <3 also this is just propaganda to get y’all to watch The Apartment dir. Billy Wilder (1960) bc it’s a cute christmas movie! merry christmas to those who celebrate, and happy holidays !!

When the cold night air nips at your skin while waiting outside of Elle’s apartment, you’re glad you remembered to bring thick sweaters.

It was a spur of the moment decision to show up unannounced. That is made clear when Elle answered to your knocks and opened the door. She isn’t really enthusiastic to see you; which you can understand. Her quitting from the FBI is a fresh wound, and she had only told you of her leave through a midnight text a couple nights ago.

In short, she wasn’t expecting you here, especially in the middle of the night and while a budding snowstorm is brewing.

“What are you doing here?” The question isn’t aggressive; none of what she has ever said to you has been aggressive in tone. No, it was genuine, like she really is wondering why you’re at her apartment.

You gesture to a spare sweater nestled in your arms. “It’s the holidays,” you reply. “I wanna spend them with you.”

Elle sighs and steps aside, allowing you in. You go inside and the first thing you notice upon entry are the few packed and sealed boxes in the corner, assuming they’re untouched incase your girlfriend needed to move again. You eye them but decide not to bring it up; after all, the last thing Elle would want with all she’s been through in a short time span is you criticizing her.

She glances at the fuzzy sweater you’re wearing. “Does it itch?” she questions as she closes and locks the door, trapping the cold air outside.

You look down and straighten the dark green wool with your free hand. “Actually, it’s really soft.” You extend the crimson sweater in your arm to her. “I brought one for you!”

Seeing how happy you are, she takes the sweater and pulls it over her head; the red suits her perfectly. “Thank you,” Elle says, letting her hand run over the fabric on her arm. Her faint smile fades into a light scowl. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask.

“I didn’t tell you sooner.”

You stand there quietly, breaking the eye contact you had for a second before meekly assuring, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

The second when you stop talking, Elle moves to the living room and you follow behind closely. “I don’t think you came all the way here just to hear me whine,” she chuckles lightly.

“Okay, well,” you were originally assuming that she would turn you away at the door; now, you hadn’t envisioned you would get this far. Suddenly, you have an idea. “Do you still have those hot cocoa packets?”

She raised an eyebrow at your question. “Yeah…why, do you want some?”

“I’ll make it!” you yell as you run into the kitchen, leaving her behind. You’re lucky to have already memorized where everything in the kitchen is, being that this is only your third visit to her apartment. You turned on the electric kettle and collected two mugs and two hot chocolate packets, alongside some small marshmallows which took some time to find. Despite how often Elle would be away from her apartment, her kitchen is surprisingly well-stocked.

After you pour the hot water and contents of the packets into the mugs, you collect them and make your way back to the living room. Elle, now seated on the couch with a wooly blanket draped over one leg, stares at you as you carefully hand her the mug.

The cocoa, as delicious as it smells, is still burning hot, but that tidbit of information slipped your mind as you took a small sip, only to burn your tongue and jerk your head back. Elle chuckled at your reaction and while you’re happy to hear her laughter, you’re also playfully offended by her apparent sadism.

You slap her shoulder lightly as you sit down next to her, leaning your torso against her warm body. She responds with a joking “ouch” as she softly blows on her hot chocolate. You pull the blanket over to cover both sets of legs.

Elle sets her mug down and grabs the remote. “What d’you wanna watch,” she asks, opening up a streaming service on the television.

You take another sip, thankfully the cocoa is cooler and not unpleasantly hot. “Oh, I don’t know,” you say. “It’s your house, why don’t you pick?”

She nods, using the remote to navigate to an old black-and-white movie you hadn’t seen yet. “The Apartment? Is that a Christmas movie?”

“Technically,” she quipped, taking back her mug and drinking when the movie starts.

A few minutes in, you lean your head against her shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” you suggest, out of the blue.

Elle glances at you with her eyes. “I know.”

“It’s not…necessarily about, y’know, the BAU, but…” you’re unsure of whether or not you want to continue. You look down at the steam rising out of your mug. “I just wanna know if you’re doing okay.”

“I am,” she replies. “I’m okay, I swear.” She turns her head and kisses your forehead softly before turning back and wrapping her arm along the back of your neck.

You smile and take another sip of the hot chocolate, with the sounds of old-timey music in the background and the warmth of Elle’s presence to comfort you.

literally did not know how to end this, but like it’s very cute 🫶 hope y’all enjoyed (if there’s anything wrong in the fic, let me know and i’ll fix it!) and happy holidays !! ❄️

[crguang]

ahajsksbywpqp sat guess who has 2 tests in the same week in the same class next week. Not very fun for me. anyway I was think abt Kafka (honestly when am I not is the real question). See if it wasn’t Kafka in ur au and I was r I would definitely turn her in for the money, but I unfortunately think I might like Kafka just like a little bit ig so I don’t think k would be able to do that .

Reread part 3 today is her fingers twitching bc she wants to shoot something or is it just bc Kafka and her fingers. Ok thats not what I meant but also…what I meant was that she works with her fingers a lot I wish she used them on me instrument, guns, etc. we still haven’t gotten an in game Kafka appearance w an actual violin, it probably won’t happen but I’m still holding out. And she’s the highest threat level possible for a criminal but she STILL commits petty theft. She is so I saw someone say that the stellaron hunters were all siblings, Kafka and blade are like the older siblings that have to drive/pay for everything, silver wolf is the gamer (so original) and firefly is the youngest. Wish they had more in game interactions, or like they had synergy, meta wise, since canonically they’re one of the most tight knit groups.

oh also your inbox must be full as fuck so it’s fine if you don’t reply to everything, esp bc you answer a lot of stuff, and even tho someone already said this ur rlly great to talk to ur thoughts are always more coherent than mine. And we all get to simp over hot fictional women together.

ngl I might start playing ptn, like I’ve been seeing screenshots and…wow, I don’t think I have enough storage tho. I think the two types of characters I usually like are tiny mentally ill ones and hot evil women, so…

im so sorry my messages are always so long btw, I keep rambling 😭

-🌠

aaaa study well and good luck for your tests!!! hope you get a good grade and if u dint i will hack i to your prof’s computer and change it for you

im with you entirely, if it was anyone else in that story i wouldve already called the cops LMFAOOO kafka gets privileges because shes hot and my fav unfortunately… for the finger thing, i think its just one of her quirks! in her idle she mimics playing the violin and like you said she has very dexterous hands (even mentions it in a voice line) so i think she’d absentmindedly move them around when her mind is elsewhere. this is the kind of overthinking i was talking about, when i map out a character in my head i think about the most irrelevant stuff that dont matter😭 but imo they add to her charm a little and make her a rounder character, idk. AND YES i love that her crimes go from suicide inducement to petty theft shes so ridiculous hfjfhdhfj that time in her character story where she just walked in a store and took clothes off the rack then left in front of everyone… shes funny as hell😭

i see the SH as family too! silver wolf and firefly are sisters to me, and both of them are def kafka’s little sisters. i think silver wolf is the youngest though, she even gives off sassy youngest child vibes. i wish they could work together too, having them all in one team would be so nice. but it’s also cool that each of them has a speciality, it makes sense for the work they do

my inbox is full i think i have around 70 asks rn…😭 but to be fair a lot of them are veryyy old i just havent gotten around to cleaning up my blog yet, i’ll do it at the same time i change my masterlist and actually make it pretty to look at. i usually try to click on notifs as soon as i see them but like i said, i just forget to type my answers </3

and omg. anon. if your type is mentally ill and hot evil women ptn is literally the game for you. there is an abundance of mentally ill women in there, trust me… like there’s every kind of character you could want in that game— you could give me a specific type and i could find you a character that matches it, you should definitely play. and if you do, do it before the second anniversary ends (starts around mid/late-october) bc trust me you are gonna be upset if you miss shalom :/

dont worry abt ramblingggg i love talking to u and answering every point it’s really nice!!

[jrueships]

AHEM.

Why Jaren Jackson Jr. is a bottom: A List

1. The poor guy will do anything for attention from the team, ESPECIALLY from Ja.

2. Big guy that just wants to impress his tiny boyfriend (the same boyfriend that definitely tops him). He shows off just for the praise 😭

3. That one video of him doing that little tip-tap dance when Ja gave him the attention that he was practically begging for. IT WAS SO CUTE 😭😭😭

4. His outfits. He’s just showing off for his man (in hopes of something happening 🥰).

5. His legssssss. No way Ja doesn’t take advantage of his thighs. His thighs and ass are the main reasons why he’s the bottom. Always COVERED in h*ck*es.

6. Ja may be WAYYY shorter, but his personality is big. Jaren is WAYYY taller, but his personality is smaller (which is still quite big lol).

7. I almost view their relationship as a Kyle/DeMar type thing. If that makes sense?? Kyle and Ja are bossy and most people would assume they are both bottoms. But they aren’t. THEIR BIG GUYS ARE.

8. Jaren always looking at what Ja shows him on his phone. He’d do anything for that man to be happy (bottom behavior).

this was all off the top of my head, so it may not make total sense??? if i think of more reasons why i’ll tell you 😭😭😭

REAAAAAALLL!!!!!! IVE BEEN JUST READIN N READIN THIS AS A LITTLE DOG BISCUIT FOR ME... AN LITTLE TREAT <33 ... but i have decided to POP THIS BABY OUT N CELEBRATE WOOHOOO HAPPY DPOY JARENNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! *posts ask containing listed statements on why you are a sheet clawer

happy dpoy ? confused and scared but still trying to act happy jasper the dolphin voice before tyler in a wig and heels evaporates his whole existence

FIOOORST of all,,, thank u for numbering these down bcs u KNOW I love love LOVEE tackling ALL my moots details this is so FUUUN!!!!!

1. The poor guy will do anything for attention from the team, ESPECIALLY from Ja.

LITERALLLYYYY!!! EXAAAACTLY!!!! YESSSSS!!!! made me whip out my 3 go to replies after listening to my friend hate on the same shit i hate or make THE REALEST points to ever point in the whole history of points, on the latter side FOSHURE!! youre literally so right tho like....

you can't look at him... at his ACTIONS!! and TELL me he is Not FOR THE TEAM!!! LIIIKE (i DONT listen to icespice i am NOT a munchI AM NO T A M U NCH‼️‼️)(I SAID LIKE BEFORE HER AND AFTER MEAN GIRLS OKAY!!!!!!) Everyone was lowkey getting a little jealous of the ABSOLUTE LEAASH brandon Clarke has had on jaren.... but like. Can You Blame Him. Clarke is GORGEOUS. He's like a 6'8 ja but more importantly without the mental problems. Ja acting out by being all 'alpha male whatever 🙄'.. he wanna be jarens man again soo bad. JA!! get this thru ur SKINNY BEAVIS N BUTTHEAD HEAD!!! jaren liked U bcs u were a LESBIAN!!! who is also bisexual. He will ALWAYS be YOUR LITTLE MEOW MEOW or whatever u guys roleplay in bed or discord lmfao WHEN URE AROUND!!! Jaren is just a very im gonna give up 110% of myself to whoever i happen to be around AND U GOTTA LEARN TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!!! like he literally opened his legs to u and ure like 5ft tall like. Let's not act like he has high standards now or something. He dreams of dill*n brooks. Daily. Not even nightmares. Full on straight up not straight wet dreams bro. Find your inner zen ja. Please. For the good of your baby mama (jaren.

2. Big guy that just wants to impress his tiny boyfriend (the same boyfriend that definitely tops him). He shows off just for the praise 😭

THE AMOUNT OF SHORT KING PROPAGANDA BEING PASSED RN!!! I AM TRULY LIVING Y E S !!! THIS THIS THIS!!!!

he said WHEN U FEELIN COCKY!! I M FEELIN COCKY!!!!!! .... u know... and if u feelin like... a certain COCKy.... just so happeningly around u know... someone submissive and breedable...ME then...you know... im still feelin kinda cocky too... namean 🥺👉🏿👈🏿..?

Ja pausing briefly in peace to read this 3:02 (minutes kept random to make it seem like jaren hasnt been agonizing & planning this text for over fifty days and nights) before he's about to tweet out another threat to yet another small child: ........ what 😑?

it's so cute... and a little sad 😭 like he wants him so bad. Walking all normal but suddenly prancing all giddy like a done up horse (unicorn) whenever ja even as much as LOOKS at him!! please jaren.... ure whining at this point. Salivating all over this little pebble of a man. This twig. i Love it, frankly. i Do. he needs this santas helpers d*ck and he needs it Bad .give it to him NOW, ja! RIGHT NOW.

TURDAE ‼️‼️

3. That one video of him doing that little tip-tap dance when Ja gave him the attention that he was practically begging for. IT WAS SO CUTE 😭😭😭

LIKE GET IT TOGETTHER JAREN!!! he is head over TIPPY TAPPY DANCEY H E E L S for that online thug it's SO funny 😭. Ja half assing to pretend hes a security guard like jaren started and jaren being so happy abt it 😭😭 when the bf agrees to be the rainbow pony to ur pink pony in ponyville. THEN WHEN DESMONDS TRYING TO JUST GET HIS INTERVIEW DONE JAREN PLOPS HIMSELF NEXT TO HIM MIMICKING HIS POSE?? STARING?? pulling out ALL the stupid little tactics to try and get him mr handsome to notice him.. then he scoots closer when he doesn't PLEASE babygirl!!! Daddy's working 😾. IMKIDDINGSORRYLMFAO i need to stop saying that ironically, people are gonna think imsrs.. Anyways. I took a screenshot but thanks to jarens long neck.. he looked like a roadside 4legged human-like creepypasta monster so. Nvm. BUT AFTER THAT HE TRIES LIKE? TAPPING DESMONDS giant hunk of an ARM! by God. I know what you are jaren! AND HE DOESNT EVEN GET NOTICED THERE??? like throughout that whole thing desmond didn't even look at him once 😭. AT LEAST JA SPARED THE POOR SOUL A SINGLE SECOND GLANCE FOR HIM TO GET ALL GIGGLY OVER!!!! Desmond is so cool guy who doesn't have a personality to him and only makes npc responses if any. I think jaren is kind of obsessed. He wants to suck his **** so bad. Maybe that's why ja spared him a crumb of attention. Like when u let the leash a lil long then suddenly keep it short. That's so mean. Do it Again, ja.

4. His outfits. He’s just showing off for his man (in hopes of something happening 🥰). 5. His legssssss. No way Ja doesn’t take advantage of his thighs. His thighs and ass are the main reasons why he’s the bottom. Always COVERED in h*ck*es.

combining because i am a GREAT THINKER 🗣!!!! but moving on YES!! TIMES A MILLION! The fact that jjj has admitted he has a habit of buying new clothes like everyday.... who do u have in mind when u buy those jarebear? Is it someone little that likes to hype up whatever cool new thing you've got interesting to him ? Hm? Suspicious.

H*CKIES ALONG HIS THIGHS PLEAAAAASEE PLE A SE!!! P L E ASE!!!! just ONE fic where someone tops him and leaves h*ckies ob those HUGEMONGO CHUN-LI thighs PLEASE anyone PLEASE!!!! IM TIRED OF US ONLY HAVING THE VISION!!@ WE NEED THIS IN PICTURE OR PAPER!!! N O W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i KNOW ja **** him *** i just KNOW he does he probably BITES it im so. LISTEN. THIS IS COMIN STR8 FROM THE SOURCE. I AM JUST THE MESSENGER!!! we know. We KNOW. Jaren ALWAYS wears compression leggings... and for What. FROM what? FROM WH O M?

For WHOM???? Ja's playing around pretending to help the pt stretch jarens legs by coming from the side or behind and he kinda grabs his thigh-like and grips it a little teasingly cus he knows.. it's a little Sensitive. From last night. Well it better be anyways. And his fingers squeeze near that inner thick of the thigh and jaren let's out a jolt and a lil HEY :oO !!!! That makes the pt guy usher ja out (he just thinks they're playin.. has no idea.) (Jaren intends to PLEASE JA. KEEP IT THAT WAY!!!) And ja snorts n snickers n scampers off Knowing that Jaren Knows HE knows. And jarens trying not to giggle, trying to keep his frowny face or roll his eyes like that wasn't anything but annoying. Like his face isn't feeling like a forestfire right now. it's Sick. it's Sickening. . . M o r e.

6. Ja may be WAYYY shorter, but his personality is big. Jaren is WAYYY taller, but his personality is smaller (which is still quite big lol).

HE IS A S H O R T KING!!@@! MAMA AYE!! i belive in his SHORT KING SUPREMACY!!! okay!! Jaren is but a mouse compared to his giant ego. When jaren tries shoving someone it's like... ok little guy. Let's get you to bed. When someone shoves ja it's Uh Oh. For Real. Top girlboss bottom malewife relationship my Beloved. LOVE hearing other's thoughts n comments on players personalities !!!! it's so cool!!

7. I almost view their relationship as a Kyle/DeMar type thing. If that makes sense?? Kyle and Ja are bossy and most people would assume they are both bottoms. But they aren’t. THEIR BIG GUYS ARE.

THIS IS.... I DO NOT GURANTEE UR SAFETY FROM THE KYLE/DEMAR GIRLIES. but i LOVE the idea behind it. Just because a person in the relationship has the fatter ass doesn't mean they can't top ok!!!!! Im so big behind this FLAT ASSES NEED LOVE TOO!!! Shoutout sauce gardner for leading the 2 dimensional bttm booty charge. I believe in you an them bones, my bratty bttm king. anyways... ur mind may be too great for this world... cherish it. Always. Big guys bottomimg... ure so real for this. My sibling in stronghold.

8. Jaren always looking at what Ja shows him on his phone. He’d do anything for that man to be happy (bottom behavior).

YHE PHONE OBSERVATION PLEAAASEEE !!! YES!!!!

Ja just looking up: How Do I Play Papa's Pizzareea On My Phobe. 💯

And jarens smiling and laughing and staring at dreamy like he's watching ja write up their marriage vows. Jaren thumbs up jas memes physically when they don't get thumbed up digitally on reddit. He's his little 6'10 cheerleader and he will live and die by the pompom. Giggling and twirling his hair and kicking his feet and getting all happy to write in his fuzzy pink princess diary abt how ja gave him a Cool and Aloof😎 Signaturely Awesome Sauce 😎 ja head nod of approval when jaren helps him spell restaurant in the Google maps. (Jaren also got it wrong and they were 25 minutes late to the restaurant) (their table was taken but ja took care of it.) (Don't Ask How.) This 6'10 man rlly makes himself SO babygirl all for these little gremlins to ignore or sometimes nod at. It's like snow white and the seven dwarvOKAY IM KIDDING IM SORRY LOL. jarens just so. All of This. Yeah. You really read him like a book 😭😭 caught him spread eagle LMFAO! i YEARN to hear more I REALLY DO!!! DO NOT BE SHY IN REMEMBRANCE........ this is for History. this is for... Ted .

[ltcolonelcarter]

I don’t even know if there’s any LEFT IN THAT WRITER ASK. So I’m making up my own questions.

Has there been a particular theme or part of one of your stories that you wished got more attention? Like a one-liner that has you !!!! inside every time you reread it?

If you had an OC crossover, which would it be and why?

If you could will the vibes from any of your stories into real life, which one are you most likely to do? And why is it last call?

I LOVE YOU BABE!!! ♥️🧡💛💚💙💜I’ve got my knife ready, just waiting for you😌

send me a fanfic ask

OH YOU.

I got inundated in the BEST way. I had such a good time yelling about writing last night oh my gooood. I was a bit dizzy by the end of it. I owe so many people messy kisses. anyway

Has there been a particular theme or part of one of your stories that you wished got more attention? Like a one-liner that has you !!!! inside every time you reread it?

you’re gonna be able to predict this, but the themes in a question of time are jUST. I work so hard on it. the themes are so self-referential in places: it feels a little ridiculous to write sometimes but it’s like it’s spiralling in on itself. that was the feeling I wanted to capture.

I’m not sure the full picture of what I’m trying to do in aqot is even visible yet, really, because… you won’t see the view until I’ve published chapter 8. I have SO many references to previous events, a few new bits of information that… change… what’s already happened. I wanted to create that sense (in multiple places) of the world shifting in response to new information - that moment where you see stuff DIFFERENTLY and can’t go back. from the perspective of the writer it’s hard to measure how successful I’ve been so far, but… there should be another drop coming. I’m excited to see what everyone thinks.

There’s a few lines of dialogue I’ve written that just made me want to punch something in joy bc they captured the essence of a character, or the vibe that I wanted, really really well. I always forget them until I reread, so I’ll just give you a smattering of my favourites.

This moment in aqot stands out:

Connor didn’t validate the question with a response, which only inspired a white-hot fury in Sixty. “You deviated, Connor!” Sixty screamed. “You failed!” “No.” Despite the circumstances, Connor’s voice was low. Gentle. “I didn’t fail. My mission changed.”

I can see Sixty in this moment SO CLEARLY. I love the moment a character breaks, and this is that: he’s done this too much, failed too many times, it’s just the raw nerves left. he’s barrelling towards rock bottom and he still doesn’t understand. sigh. especially bc (spoiler) sixty has _such_ a habit of following in Connor’s footsteps

two, from let him hear:

“Well, he could be looking at me. How could I blame him when the view’s this good?” You shoot Sixty a look, aiming for withering. By the flash of teeth, you know you weren’t convincing. “But I doubt it.”

listen, I’m not too proud to tell you I laughed myself stupid when I wrote that. Literally like: yep, that’s Sixty, no editing required

You don’t need to look at Sixty’s face. His grin is unmistakable in every word. “Oh, I’ve definitely seen her.”

This one I had written when I was working on the PREMISE, before I’d even started the fic. I could HEAR him saying it, that slight laugh in his voice. still tickles me.

from last call I could honestly pick a lot, bc I worked on showing a lot of emotion in hopefully subtle ways, but these stand out:

He bows his head closer to you when he speaks in reply, voice quieter, almost lost to the noise of the room. “I will attempt to satisfy you.” You don’t have an answer for that.

he surprised me with that one

“A cure for curiosity,” he smiles at you, conspiratorial, and you pin him with a questioning stare. “At least, a temporary one.”

@staticl0ve pointed this one out in her LOVELY comment, but I was SO SO HAPPY with this line. it sounds so much like Connor to me.

He keeps you company until you’re feeling like yourself. When the rain starts falling heavily and you jolt away from the spray of cold droplets, he steps back into the rain to give you back your space; surprised, you watch him, the raindrops that trail down his face, through the soft strands of his hair, and notice he’s prioritising you over himself again.

You reach out and pull him back under the shelter until you’re standing, shoulder to shoulder, listening to the rain.

SIGH I live the quiet moments of character growth. this is her admitting to herself for the first time that she’s attached, but more than that, that she’d rather keep him close than keep her barriers up. that he’s worth being seen. I’m going to smash something I just need a minute

OH also: honourable mention to any time I use the title in-fic. It’s PURELY self indulgent. I fucking love that shit. if I was still publishing under anon I’m p sure it’d give me away.

I could probably five seventy more little moments I've written that I'm really, really happy with, but I've been gratuitously self indulgent already, so i'll finish with one last part: there are a lot of little moments in the echoes and reflections prologue that will (eventually) hold a lot more significance than they do at the moment. I have a lot of plans for that fic: it's not going to be happy barely at all, but I'm so so excited about the exploration of character. they're all going to such a dark place. shout out to @dattebae not only for writing the middle ground, the au on which this au is based, but for letting me play with her iteration of sixty. I am so utterly full of love and bewilderment at the trust. give me an hour I simply must kiss my wife

If you had an OC crossover, which would it be and why?

OC CROSSOVER ASGAJAGAGSHA okay sO for starters I need them all in a room together, immediately, and if it’s the bar from last call I will Not complain. I have a few upcoming OCs I have not introduced…..but I’m very excited about them. unbruised has one arriving imminently, as you WELL know, and she’s my new favourite, I think: I think she’d be my pick for crossover bc she’s just SO irascible. I love her dearly.

it would be fun to see Ali in Let Him Hear. he can argue with the best of them. he'd love that environment (and the free drinks).

also Jo. I don’t need to explain that one. you get it. who DOESN'T love a giant carebear-ass IDIOT. no-one. obviously.

If you could will the vibes from any of your stories into real life, which one are you most likely to do? And why is it last call?

okay so this one made me snort out LOUD raya. I cannot believe you. this is absurd. stop it immediately.

you're fucking right, which is more annoying. I think last call is such a mundane setting, and it's so tangible, and what I didn't realise when I was writing it is that every part of it takes place in one location. it's a fucking bottle episode.

but I think that lends it something: by the second scene you know the place, have the feel of it, so it's so so easy to feel the place. I love that so much about it. rereading it feels like it felt when I'd walk through it in my head. it's a place I've visited. I could almost touch it.

honorable mention is let him hear, actually: the busy social scene in the yawning winter, bright streetlight in frosty air, the hum and swell of voices, and the thrill of meeting someone new and interesting who, despite the odds, sees you. there's something precious in that, I think.

[golbrocklovely]

since twitter's dying....

here's the last bit of colby's tweets from 2019.

i don’t have proof that these are his tweets, but believe me, they are his.

if it’s bold and italicized, it’s someone’s tweet to him.

if it’s in (), that’s just me commenting lol

~~~~~~~~~~~

@/badboywolfy: Country Road gonna go down in history as a cult classic

Dec. 1 - you know it

in the middle of it all

Dec. 4 - i’ve never felt more connected to the universe than i have this past week. it’s the weirdest thing

Dec. 8 - something’s watching over me

Dec. 10 - seeing MCR perform live in 10 days and i am definitely not okay

@/andrearussett: IM SO JEALOUS

i’ll send you a video of me in the pit

Dec. 11 - i loveeee twitter (reply to someone who said something mean, i assume. bc even i back then didn't get to see the tweet lol)

i want a hairless cat

Dec. 12 - sorry truth, dyin young, demon youth

(okay from this point down, it's mostly all fans asking questions, so whatever is indented is his response)

@/ColbyBrock i hope you know that we love you a lot

Dec. 16 - and i love you all too

@/ColbyBrock how is your mental health?

Dec. 17 - you know, life always has its ups and downs and it’s been super stressful recently to be honest. but i’m happy! and that’s all that matters. things are getting better

what's the first emo song you can think of off the top of your head (the tweet said something like this, but has been deleted since)

Dec. 18 - from first to last - emily

favorite series so far

definitely the one we just filmed ! it just gets more and more intense .. i hope you’re ready

@/ColbyBrock what’s one thing you’re looking forward to in 2020 ?

focusing on positives, leaving the negative people and comments behind

(haha......... IF THEY ONLY KNEW)

@/ColbyBrock what’s ur advice for 2020

i wanna challenge people to work on spreading love instead of hate 🖤 not really advice hahah but i think the internet has turned into a darker place this past year, and i really want people to think before they speak or tweet or whatever. spread love !

@/ColbyBrock do you think you’ll dye your hair a different color soon

hahah every single day i get people wanting something different. i’ve just learned to stick with what makes me happy .. but always open to suggestions 👀👀 maybe a dark purple next ?

@/ColbyBrock do you have any plans for your birthday yet

nah. i’ve been so busy i haven’t even thought about my birthday

@/ColbyBrock do you ever get nightmares about being haunted?

all the time. my minds been fucked.. not to scare anyone but i’ve been in so many dark places and after awhile it sticks with you in a way

@/ColbyBrock do you have any regrets about past videos or are you proud of everything you’ve put out?

i’m insecure about so many videos of me on the internet i wish you all knew

(he really knows how to make me sad....)

@/ColbyBrock what do you think about us? the fandom?

i LOVE you guys. you’re hilarious. all i can ask is if people will try to get along and be kind to each other. you’re all my family, leave the negativity and mean comments behind

@/ColbyBrock you should get a dog.

ugh i wish. i wouldn’t be able to love it and care for it like i’d want to or like it would deserve

@/ColbyBrock do you ever get annoyed of us?

hahah not in the slightest. but some of you can say some pretty mean things which i try to ignore now. no point of me giving that attention ya know ? love you all tho no matter what. say whatever you want

we love you colby and im sorry abt the mean people

it’s okay 🖤 90% of people are super nice and dope and that’s all that matters. comes with the job i guess

@/ColbyBrock are you answering questions for a youtube video but giving answers now and reading the reactions??

nope! sometimes it’s fun to just respond to as many people as i can. it’s been a while

@/ColbyBrock would you rather look at the stars or listen to the rain?

i like this. probably watch the stars with someone special

@/ColbyBrock what is your favorite thing to do on your free time? do you like to write? or anything?

believe it or not i’m kinda a loner .. i like to spend time by myself. usually just listening to music or watching dumb videos on YT

@/ColbyBrock if you could say something to your younger self, what would it be?

stop being so insecure kid , you’re okay

what's one thing we don't know about you? (or something like that)

i don’t have it all together like people think. every day is a journey to find myself, and that’s okay!

@/ColbyBrock I'm dying to know… Do you write poems?

maybe a lil here and there 🤐

@/ColbyBrock whats your advice when you’re in a kind of dark spot atm 🙈

take one step at a time. everyday needs to be a work in progress. or at least that’s what i’ve been trying lately

@/ColbyBrock did you dip

i’m about to , it’s getting late. love you all tho. was good talking

i wake up sad for no reason. why?

Dec. 21 - i think i’m gunna try to hibernate for the rest of the year i’ll let you know how it goes

Dec. 23 - i’m so much like my mom , we’re like the same person it’s weird

Really im more like my dad are u a dads boy or a moms boy for me i think ur a moms boy#loveyoucolby

definitelyyyy a mommas boy

Dec. 25 - i still sit at the kids table during christmas even though i’m almost 23 years old

Dec. 26 - you deserve the world !

Dec. 27 - sorry for your loss, im glad you’re ‘over it’.. it’s super interesting how people can choose when they wanna let go. shows you and teaches you a lot about the power of the human mind in my opinion (reply to fan)

i’m looking back at pictures of me in the trap house and damn i went through a chunky phase 🤣curse you taco bell

Dec. 28 - just watched a bunch of old VHS tapes of when i was only 1 year old .. life’s a trip i’m emotional

if i can help, that’s all i want

[aajjks]

now what’s JK looking like? 😏 https://pin.it/7JrralZkf

BC!JK

“jungkook? hello? i didn’t even give an answer” you say before hanging up the phone yourself and heading to your car. while driving, you ask your siri to call danielle and when she picks up, you can’t help but tell her the strangest thing that’s happened to you today.

“his DAD?! okay, what the hell y/n?”

“that’s what i’m saying!! like, he was caressing my hand, sizing me up and down, and he sounded like he was flirting”

“eewwww!!! he finds you attractive, y/n. ew, do not go to that dinner”

“but…jungkook is gonna be there” you squeak out and there’s a moment of silence between you and danielle when you mention jungkook.

“i thought you were mad at him?”

“i am mad at him! it’s only to get an apology”

“no it isn’t, you liar! you want to see him don’t you?”

“danny, before he did that bullshit to me i was going to ask him out on a date but i was scared and the thing is, i’m not scared anymore”

“i don’t know, n/n. he blew up on you twice, his mother despises you, and his father is attracted to you. all three of them are weirdos”

“oh c’mon!! i should go in a sexy dress and show jungkook that i’m not that same girl, i’ve evolved”

“he has your number. i’m sure he can find you on instagram and you can post about it”

“DANNY!!!!”

“my answer is no. it has red flags written all over it but if you want to, go ahead”

“i was definitely going anyways buuuut i need you to help me pick out a dress. i want to have his mother kissing my ass, jungkook looking at my ass, and his father wishing he could have my ass”

“pffthaha, you are such a weirdo. so when are we going shopping?”

“right now? i just got off work”

“ehhhhhh how about 3:30?”

“that works!”

“cool, i’ll see you girl”

“see you. love youuu!”

“love you too weirdo!!”

the dinner is in 2 1/2 hours and you and danielle spend a lot of time looking for dresses that would put anybody in a trance in your were to walk in a room.

from short dresses, to backless dresses, and even strapless dress, it was hard to pick a dress that stood out to danielle because she wanted something that matched your vibe.

“oh yeah, this is sooooo you” sexy yet innocent, the blue brings out your freckles, and then the slit?! oh yeah, she’s sure jungkook is going to have a hard time keeping his hands to himself when he sees that. the dress hugs every curve you have and don’t have at the same time and the jewelry danielle chose, seriously, danielle might’ve been a fashion designer in her past life because your entire dress screams LOOK AT ME NOW BITCHES.

“thanks so much danny!!” you say as you buy the dress with the shoes and accessories and head home to doll yourself up for tonight. you spray yourself down and keep your makeup to a minimum. your short hair is in a side part with little clips to keep your bangs behind your ears and although your feet is killing you, you look really pretty. you feel pretty.

if only eunwoo could see you now.

“be good stormy. mama will be back soon” you tell your dog as you make sure she’s okay before leaving the pomeranian on her own.

“alright, jungkook here i come”

He’s dressed up quite nice, he did put in a little effort for you maybe so he hopes that you’ll notice it and maybe even compliment him.

He’s already at the residence and it’s not really a thrill to be sitting here with his parents and his dad looks a little too happy while his mother is as always scoffing.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, staring at the screen of his phone, when will you be here? He can’t wait for you to come, it’s been long since he’s seen you in person.

And he doesn’t bother to reply to his parents occasional banter. But when his mother asks his dad the burning question, he can’t help but perk his head up.

“Yeah, father… why did you invite yn?” He asks, his eyes getting a little dark because it’s all just plain weird. You must be thinking that the whole family is crazy.

And his father shouldn’t have ANY kind of business with you.

“I need the-“” he’s cut off as the lounge gates open, and the uniformed servant comes in, along with you-

Holy shit.

He can’t believe that it’s you.

“Y-Yn.” He gulps, his attention no longer focused on his father but instead he is gawking at you, with drool almost coming out from his mouth as he noticed your appearance.

He takes in a breath and exhales…. You look… wow. You look beyond wow, and that smile of yours? It’s to die for? Everything about you is simply stunning.

You look so familiar yet so different.

“Y-YN HELLO..” he chokes out, he grabs the glass of water right infront of and chugs it down.

You’ve got him so thirsty all of a sudden.

[him^]

[chaoticspacefam]

Tell us about You’re In My Veins !

[This one was from a “WIP Ask Game” a while back where I listed titles/placeholder names for my current WIPs and y’all got to ask me about any that interested you! I don’t have the link anymore but yeah, context sjkgjdg]

CW: there’s a snippet at the bottom of this ask which has some suggestive/raunchy connotations. No direct actual smut (that’s already happened prior to this bit at the end 😏) but this is very much an argument about their sex life

Hoooo boy where do I start with this one? It’s one of the ones that’s been stuck in WIP hell for the longest goddamn time. Not even because I don’t like it or anything. The bits I have written of this one are still pretty solid, if anything they need some minor polishing (I was awful at paragraphing when I started this and it shows lmao 90) and it’d prolly still be post-able. But at this stage I’m not 100% sure exactly where it’ll fit into the Creeping Shadows timeline. I know its somewhere mid-to-end of Balmorra, and definitely before Voss but you know...that’s an awful big gap rn :’) I’m sure I’ll figure out where it goes eventually, but till then its stuck in WIP hell 💀 hahaha Anyway the first draft of this was meant to be like make-up smut but in true Aria fashion, she had to ruin it by deciding “nope I’m not ready for feelings yet” and she turned it into a fight (but that said, it does end with Aria seriously reflecting on said feelings even if the overall “tone” of it is that she hates that she’s having them 🤣🤣) so it’s a milestone for their relationship which does, in the end, lead to them actually fixing it for real later on down the line. As a joke I like to call it “make up sex but backwards” bc that’s basically what ended up happening with this one I can’t remember if the rules of this ask game said to include a snippet but I kinda feel bad this one was sat in the askbox for so long so have a lil snippet as a treat 💖

>> SNIPPET STARTS HERE, last warning that it gets a lil suggestive from here on out! also quite a lot of swearing, this is very much a lovers’ spat and both of them went for the THROAT XD <<

Vano’s jaw tightened. “Nice to know you were so concerned with my safety. You know, just a simple ‘hey Va, I’m not dead but I can’t be with you right now’ would have sufficed!” The Mirialan growled, sitting up on her hands, her eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare. “And just for the record, I'd GLADLY die for you, even though you don't fucking deserve it.” “I never asked you to!” Aria snapped back on impulse, not thinking of the effect the words would have on Vano. “I never asked for any of this. I never asked for you to pad after me like a helpless Kath pup!!” The Marauder drew back, and Aria felt the reaction to her words sting Vano like a slap to the face. “Well, I never asked to fall in love with a self-centered bitch either, but here we are!” she yanked her robes back on sharply and sat back on her haunches to glare at Aria. “The only thing I'm sorry for, is that I was stupid enough to think that if I gave you enough time, this would be more than just fucking to you!” “I never promised you flowers and poetry, I told you it was just sex and you kept crawling back anyway!” Aria shouted after her as the Sith stormed away, grabbing her discarded equipment as she passed it. “Fine, then you can find someone else to go to bed with, because I'm DONE with you!” “You always say that, and a week later your head's between my legs again!!” she retorted, knowing the Mirialan had left the ship when no further reply came. The Jedi sank down onto the pillows and choked on the involuntary sob that left her as Vano's last words spun in her head like a swarm of angry hornets.

There’s some more filler/exposition-y stuff between this snippet and the last line but it feels prudent to mention the last line is a bit of internal dialogue (I seem to do that on occasion, first this oneshot, then Strikhedonia...guess its a writing quirk now? /jk) from Aria and it’s just: I hate how much I need you!!

[jungkxook]

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

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

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

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

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

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

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

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

This night isn’t any different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thanks.”

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

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

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

“She said she’s not interested.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

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

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

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

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

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

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

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

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

“Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

“You have? Who told you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N!”

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

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

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

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

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

That night you can hardly sleep.

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

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

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

“You again?” You ask humorously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The days pass in a very typical blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

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

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, I━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

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

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

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

“They would never be able to catch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How does that make you feel?”

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

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

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

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I show you something?”

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

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, if you insist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

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

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

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

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

“No.”

“What?”

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

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

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

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

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

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

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Red and blue.

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

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

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Spider-Man is cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

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

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

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

“I’m listening.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

“Like this?” You gasp.

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

“Tell me,” You breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that,” he chuckles.

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

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

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

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

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[rainchyna]

‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎♡ ❝RATED : SWEETHEARTS!❞ ♡

‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎EPIS♡DE : SIX (V)

warnings! [light angst, worried y/n, had to make them stop at a supermarket bc it’s a road trip, adam is a mess lord oh my god, cussing, y/n and christian talking shit abt people in high school, adam is a wee bit depressed, it’s long]

you wait for christian to load your bags in to the backseat. “you got everything?” you ask. “yeah” he reply’s getting in the front seat. “you do realize that the next show is in two days right?” he asks as you start up the car’s engine. “and that this trip will take eighteen hours back and forth?” he adds. “yep” you answer with tight lips. “but can we put on a show without the third idiot?” you ask looking at him. “right”.

the first three hours of the ride were silent, mostly because christian fell asleep and you didn’t have the heart to turn up the radio to the fill the slightly jarring silence since it might wake him up. all you could think about was how fucking stupid adam was for just getting up and leaving you just like that. he was never the one who runs away from his feelings, he was always upfront and honest with you, even in the smallest most minuscule of things. all you could think about was how he was. you needed to know if he was okay, both mentally and physically. is he sleeping well? has he been eating healthy? he better have remembered taking his vitamins today … or the last couple days.

“god fucking damn it adam”

4:44 pm, that same day…

you were knee deep in thought when christian began moving around. “i’m hungry” was the first thing he said. you had just passed a sign that said that nearest stop was 10 miles away. a thought crossed your mind as lightly gasped. “what’s wrong?” christian asked, confused. you mouth hung open for a second before saying, “adam’s birthday is tomorrow”. “oh shit. we forgot” christian sighed. “oh no, you forgot, i was just distracted by everything” you defended. christian just narrowed his eyes at you, before saying “we’ll get him a key chain or something…” he trailed. you look over at him with a ‘deadass?’ face. “what? it’s not like he’s been the greatest friend for the last couple days!” he said. “true that” you nodded.

slowly but surely, you pulled up on a 7/11. next to it was a subway and a tim horton’s. “can you grab us proper food while i just get junk from the 7/11?” you asking parking the car. “sure” christian said grabbing his jacket. a cold breeze hit your face as you entered the convenience store, these places were always so cold for no reason. you walked towards the fridges at the back, scanning the drinks available through the freezing glass. you grabbed at least eight juice boxes, two tubs of cookie dough ice cream, and on your way to the cashier you took some bags of crisps.

at the register was a younger man, nineteen, twenty at most. curly poofy hair and some pimples here and there. “how’s traffic out there?” he asked with a thick french accent. his name tag read ‘jean-pierre’, “barely any honestly” you replied. “do you happen to sell keychains by any chance?” you ask. without missing a beat, the guy pulled out this massive bowl that had wooden and metallic chains on it. you dug through it as he scanned your items. ‘i <3 canada!’, ‘toronto, canada’ and more canada related ones came up, until one caught your eyes. ‘happy birthday you sexy whore’, was it appropriate for you current situation? debatable. would adam like it? most definitely yes. was it a little too on the nose? absolutely. “i’ll take this one!” you smiled. the guy took it, eyeing the chain then you. “on me, cause you’re my favourite wrestler” he smiled. you eyes lit up, “i’m your favourite?” you ask, “of course! and my boyfriend loves edge and christian, edge is his favourite because he’s more unhinged, but we love you guys!” he said. “i also really like lita” he added

“oh my god i would actually die for her”

“girl, she’s so iconic”

“I KNOWWW”

“IT’S THE HAIR AND ATTITUDE”

“SHE’S LITERALLY THE COOLEST PERSON”

you both stood there for at least fifteen minutes talking about your favourite wrestlers, until you remembered that you’re out here for a reason. you quickly said goodbye and left. as you sat in your car seat you were met by a slightly grumpy christian. “you were gone for like half an hour bro” he complained. “my bad, the cashier guy was the best person ever”.

the ride was pretty decent, mostly you and christian eating and talking shit about people from high school. “remember that chick mikaela?” he asked, mouth full of fries. “oh my fucking god, i used to hate her” you said, christian was confused. “i thought you guys were friends..?” he muttered, “ no! bro, she was only friends with me because she liked adam” you said. “deadass?” he was more surprised than confused, “i swear, bro, there were so many girls that were friends with me because they wanted to get closer to adam. and to be fair though, i was a bit of a cockblock. i would always be like ‘oh he’s already seeing someone’ you know”. you admitted. “cockblock! cockblock! y/n, y/n, the cockblock!” he sang.

“c’mon man-“

“cockblock! cockblock! y/n, y/n, the cockblock!”

“i didn’t want anyone near him-“

“wait, you loved him since high school?!” christian asked. “i thought it was obvious”, christian was dumbfounded for a second. “obvious?? you literally friendzoned him so many times bro” he said. “i did?” you were both equally confused. “let me list some of the times you did, lita’s birthday last year, prom, my 17th birthday, during our first european tour, when we first debuted, do i go on?” he said, sarcasm dripping from his comment. “i thought he was being overtly nice”

“he’s literally in love with you”

adam was a mess. he showered once ever since he came back, his hair was tangled, his under-eyes looked like he rubbed his eye with eyeliner on. he was in his old room, the wall in front of him had crayon and marker scribbles detailing his, yours and christian’s heights over the years. there were stickers all over his cupboard and bed frame and his old gaming console sat frozen in time next to three, tiny joysticks. adam laid back on his bed facing the ceiling. the night before he laid on his side staring at his bedroom’s door, he cried and his knuckles got sore. he knew that nothing will happen if he continues ignoring your calls, if he continues pretending that he’s not hurt, pretending that he doesn’t care. it was eating him from the inside, but some how he just wants you more. he felt like a flower bud in concrete, he felt incomplete, he wondered if you’ll ever meet. hopefully you noticed that he was gone by now, hopefully matt wasn’t taking up all your time. i didn’t even matter to him who you were with at this point, he just wanted to see you. so when you decide, it’s your time to arrive, he’s loved you for all of his life.

there was knock at his door, “hey…”, it was his mom, “yeah?” he said voice deep from not speaking in hours, “are you sure you’re okay? ‘cause this is the weirdest break you’ve ever had, y’know? like .. where’s jay? where’s y/n? you three are like conjoined triplets” she said sitting next to him. he sighed deeply, “can i be honest with you?” he asked, “well of course, i am your mom after all” she smiled sweetly.

“i’m in love with y/n, she’s all i can think about. it’s literally consuming me at this point. and like an idiot i ran away from my feelings, instead of saying something and i haven’t heard from her and christian in a while” he breathed out.

“oh” she said, “i thought we’re gonna say something surprising”.

adam just looked at his mom confused, “i just said all of that and it’s not surprising enough to you??” he asked slightly irritated. “that’s not the case, you’re feelings are obviously valid and you’re my son and everything, whatever, but you being in love with y/n isn’t news to me. it isn’t news to anyone, funny enough actually me and y/mom’s/n have this bet that you’ll get married by the time you’re twenty five” she joked.

“you have a bet on us?” adam giggled, first time since he came home. “yeah” she laughed. “c’mon get up, we’re gonna make cookies together, your favourite” she said as she stood my door’s frame. “just like when you were little”.

10:48 pm, even later.

after a long day of baking and listening to music with his mom, adam was slightly at peace. she always knew how to cheer him up. he was sprawled out on the living rooms couch, a plate of cookies resting on his torso while a movie he was watching played in the background. his mom had went to sleep a while ago, leaving adam alone with his thoughts. he thought about it for a while, if having you as his girlfriend wasn’t an option, he didn’t mind remaining as friends. granted it would burn his literal soul, because you gave him butterflies. all you had to do was walk away and pass him by, don’t acknowledge his smile when he tried to say hello to you.

simple as that, yet just the thought of you ignoring him physically hurt him. his mind ram miles and miles away, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways he can continue being friends with you, without it interfering with you and matt relationship. he couldn’t help but get emotional, that was years of friendship going down the drain. but that was the point of unrequited love, wasn’t it?

4:15, early in the morning

christian had taken over, as you were now asleep on the passenger seat. you had finally entered your hometown. the area was a little dark, pretty quite. apart from a couple cars driving into the night, nothing else was causing any type of noise.

he drove past several houses, recognizing some of them. he pulled up on your homes’ block, and there he could see them. the three houses in which you’ve all spent your childhood in. the lights at his house were all out, at your house the front porch lights was the only one on. the lights of the living room in adam’s were on. christian glanced at the digital clock before him, 4:20. (adam’s) mom was about to go on her morning run anytime soon. “y/n, wake up we’re here” he said parking the car. “we are?” you said rubbing your eyes, disoriented. “oh my god, we are”.

you stretched for a bit before asking “what time is it?”

“4:21”

“mom’s gonna go on a run”

“yeah we should go inside before she goes out, at least she’ll open the door for us” he said. you both stepped out of the car. you grabbed a juice box before closing the door. “you sure you wanna do this?” christian asked as he turned to face you. “seriously?” he added, you looked like a child with your little box and little straw. “what?” you asked, “i’m thirsty! plus i need some sugar in my system before we do this, i hate confrontation” you added. you dug in your pocket and pulled out some gum strips, “here” you said handing christian a piece, “if we’re gonna confront someone, we should at least look cool” you said. he took it and began walking towards adam’s house.

this is it.

“ewwww, ugh! oh my god!”

“are you okay??”

“i was! until i decided to chew mint gum while drinking orange juice” you frown. christian smiled.

“never change, y/n”

——————————

adam was shuffling about in the kitchen, looking for a glass to get some water. the large amount of sugar he had consumed from the cookies had caught up to him and he was parched. “oh my god, you scared me! why are you still awake?” his mom’s voice startled him. “i scared you?!” he sighed. “jeez, go get some sleep adam” she lightly patted on his back. “morning run?” he asked, “yeah, you wanna join me?” she asked, “maybe tomorrow…” adam muttered. a knock on the door interrupted their small talk, “can you fill this up for me?” she asked handing him her water bottle. “sure”.

a surprised gasp get from hell lips as she opened the door. “jay? y/n! what are you kids doing here?!”

adam felt his heart drop to his stomach. you were both here.

why were you here?

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[stargazer-balladeer]

S/o’s birthday but locks themselves in their rooms because they don’t feel special [Genshin Impact]

Characters Included: Aether, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya & Venti.

Notes: Ayeeee! Since it’s my birthday today, why not make this? :))) I actually got carried away 🥲 this is around 3.5k words in total. Hope ya’ll like this!

Reader’s Gender: Neutral (tho i think there’s a slight implied female hehe…)

Warning: probably some swear words here and there knowing me- and mild suggestive themes in kaeya’s part 

[albedo, scaramouche, xiao]

Aether remembers your birthday more than he knows his- like srsly, he’s the kind that remembers his s/o’s bday more than his. He’s also the kind that celebrates it privately unless you want to celebrate it with others, which he doesn’t mind. He might have a hard time deciding what kind of gift you want, but sooner or later, he already has one (or multiples bc he can’t decide-). 

Imagine his confusion when your day finally arrives but he can’t find you anywhere, even Paimon, who was excited to celebrate your bday (“oohh~ I can’t wait to eat the cake!” - Paimon), seems confused. Probably the culprit in planting worry in the travellers head as she jumps to conclusion that you might’ve been kidnapped. 

Luckily, he checked your house before he could report it to the knights of Favonius or the Qixing (like any normal person should do really-). When he received no reply, he takes out the spare key you gave him and entered your house, an invasion of privacy he knows but it's an emergency- 

Knowing that you’re in your room when he can’t find you downstairs, he knocks on your bedroom door softly while calling your name. Imagine his (and Paimon’s) relief when the door cracked open. Immediately engulfing you into a hug, he lets out a sigh of relief. He then proceeds to ask you what you were doing inside your room when it’s your birthday. His heart literally broke when you stated your reason. Tightening his hold around your figure, he smiles bitterly, knowing that feeling all too well..

“That’s not true. None of that stuff is true. Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday, most especially you. We’ve brought some food, and cake of course. Also some gifts from other people. If you want, do you want to celebrate it with just the two, or rather three, of us?”

You, who was a literal angel in his eyes deserve the world. He honestly wants to find whoever put that idea in your head but that was reserved for another moment. For now, his main priority is your happiness. Guiding you downstairs where Paimon was (she left when aether hugged you, knowing you two needed privacy. also the cAKE-), he watches as your eyes sparkle at the sight of the cake. 

Grinning softly he made sure you had fun with your birthday. Even though it would be more fun with more people, it feels more special if it’s celebrated with just the two of you. Staring you with pure adoration as you laughed merrily at the sight of Paimon stuffing herself with food. He couldn’t help himself but lean forward to place a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips, leaning back with a smile on his face. 

“Happy birthday, my love. May many more to come. Maybe next time, we can invite other people. Though I don’t mind if we’ll celebrate it with just the two of us only-” And Paimon! Don’t forget about Paimon!” “Yes yes. And Paimon.”

Similar to Aether, he would most definitely remember your birthday. After all, it holds a special place in his heart, alongside his family. And since this boi is rich af, he would most definitely try to spoil you on your birthday. Piles of expensive (or just cheap yet meaningful) gifts, reservation to a high-class restaurant in Liyue Harbor, and all that glamour. 

Actually, he didn’t find it odd that he didn’t see you immediately, thinking that you overslept or just relaxing in your house. But he soon finds it weird when it’s already around 3 in the afternoon and no sign of your face in the crowd, something he raised a brow at but shrugged it off. It isn’t until it’s almost the time of the reservation he made when he finally realized what’s going on. 

When he arrived at your house, dressed in a suit similar to Zhongli except it’s entirely black and white, waiting for you to come out. After a couple of minutes, he soon got concerned and decided to enter your bedroom through the window (pls do not do this at home). Startled at the sudden appearance of your handsome yet cheeky boyfriend, he stares at you with eyes asking the questions he didn’t dare to tell. 

Knowing he will get his answer one way or another, you decided to tell him about your dilemma. After you finished explaining yourself, silence surrounds you, which is quite worrisome since your boyfriend is known for his rather talkative behavior. Blinking in surprise at the sudden embrace of the 11th Harbinger, his hug was rather tight but not too tight that it cuts your oxygen. Speaking in a low, faint voice, a surprising feat for him, you can make out what he said as clear as day. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed it sooner. I was trying to be a perfect boyfriend for you but I guess I failed in that aspect. You know, if you feel like you aren’t special enough to celebrate your birthday, then what about me? Me who stained his hands with the red blood of his enemies, always engaging in a fight, clashing with other blades. Insecurity is really an asshole huh? Let me make it up to you now. Let’s not anymore go to that stupid high-class restaurant, c’mon, up you go. You better dressed comfortably when I come back or else…”

Leaving you quickly before coming back immediately, this time in more comfortable clothing rather than the stiff suit he wore earlier. This time as well, he entered your house normally through the door. In his arms, he was holding a bunch of stuff and proceeded to dump it on the living room table. It was different kinds of movies in different genres, you spotted some of your favorite movies in them (makes you also wonder where he got these from since you don’t remember seeing these in the room he stays-).

He would suggest making a pillow fort, and while making the pillow fort, he proceeded to smack you with one. Which ensued a pillow fight between you two. It successfully made the both of you a laughing mess by the end, filled with feathers. Childe then carries you bridal style to the incomplete pillow fort and starts the movie you chose. Placing you in his lap and placing his head either on your shoulder or head depending on your height, cuddling you from behind tightly with a contented smile on his face. 

“You know what? This might not be how I envisioned how your birthday would go, but I’m not complaining. Happy birthday, comrade. My most adorable and most cutest and only love. I love you so much that you’ll be the very reason why I die so suddenly. So stop being so cute okay?” 

(You two are living together in this one.)

Diluc has the probability of forgetting your birthday due to his busy schedule, especially if it’s starting to rise when your birthday draws near. He might neglect you for a couple of days, too engrossed in his work. When the day finally arrives, it completely leaves his mind. Like he’ll think of it as a completely ordinary working day. It isn’t until one of your friends told him to send you their birthday greetings that he remembered. And oh boy does he feel guilty, like srsly, he literally froze when he realizes what day it is today. And you know what that means? ✨Panicc✨

Honestly, I can see him buying the whole store XD. In the state of panic, his common sense just leaves him completely that he ends us buying practically the whole store. It would be sent to the Dawn Winery immediately as he buys some flowers from Flora, who also sent you her birthday greetings, which made him more guilty-

When Diluc steps foot inside the manor, he tries to search for you outside the gardens where he usually finds you but when he doesn't, he gets worried. Asking the head maid immediately about your whereabouts, and his concern and worry (and guilt) grew even more when he finds out that you haven’t gone out of your room. He quickly went to your shared room, with the flowers still in his hands, and knocked on your door. Calling your name softly and asking for permission to enter, when granted he entered the room as quickly as possible. But seeing the sight of you bundled up in your blanket made his heart crack.

Placing the flowers at the bedside table, he quickly made his way in front of you and kneeled down to meet your eye level. You can tell he was very worried about you with how frantic his eyes seem and the concern underlying it. With the way he was staring at you, you can’t help but spill your insecurity to him. The reason why you were hiding in his room rather than go out to celebrate your day of birth. Every word you spill made his heart break even more. Seeing tears started to leak from your eyes, he placed his two hands on your face wiping away the tears with his thumbs. Smiling at you gently and placing a kiss on your eyelids and on your nose.

“I completely understand, my love. Even I sometimes feel that way. Also to the point where I don’t want to celebrate my birthday even, but that won’t do my love. You are so special, you deserve your special day to be well special. If you want to simply lay here and sleep, then so be it. If you want to go out and do something, then I’ll happily oblige. Let’s obliterate those awful thoughts, and if those keep persisting, I’ll slice them up for you. I’ll keep picking you up when you fall. So, what is your command, my love?” (i'm so tempted for him to say master-)

Whatever your answer may be, one thing for sure, Diluc is seen smiling adoringly at you. Even the maids noted how soft the master is around you, particularly today. Whether curled up together in the bed, with him embracing you tightly to his chest and placing a kiss on top of your head. And if you listen carefully, you can hear him quietly humming a tune that his father (or mother) sang to him. Or you two outside in the garden, simply admiring the view with his hand around your waist. 

Either way, at the end of the day, he would wake you up or make you go inside for dinner. You haven’t eaten breakfast or lunch yet so you’re probably hungry by now. If you don’t want to leave your room or want to return to your room, he would understand and make the maids bring the food to you. When the maid(s) finally arrives with the food, you notice the cake on the tray. Looking at him as he chuckles, taking the trays from the maids. Humming a light tune, he scoops a spoonful of cake and holds it to your mouth, with a slight smirk on his face, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Stop staring at me like that, did you really think I would let the day go by for you to not celebrate your birthday properly? From what I know, birthdays have cakes in them, whether a huge cake or a cupcake. Say ‘ahh’~... Happy birthday my love. May next year be more enjoyable than now.”

Kaeya remembers your birthday like the back of his hand, I think he’s even more excited than you really. Eagerly awaiting your birthday as he counts down the days, dropping hints and stuff to you birthday-related, and probably plans a birthday party for you. The knights immediately agreed on it, including a certain bard, traveler, and wine master (albeit more hesitantly). He made sure that this party would be successful, constantly checking on the plans and such. To the point that everyone was practically fed up with his constant questions. But they understand that he wants this to be a successful and enjoyable party for you. It got to the point where Diluc kicked him out of his Tavern after asking for the umpteenth time. 

When your day finally arrives, he was practically beaming with joy and excitement. To the point where he can’t hide it behind the cool and suave facade he wears. He quickly made his way to you, going along with the plan of distracting you as they started to prepare for the party. In his total excitement, he didn’t notice the rather gloomy atmosphere around the house. But when he arrived at your door, that is when he noticed how quiet your house is.

Now albeit worried, his excited smile slipping from his face and now replaced with a worried frown, he knocked on your door, calling you in his usual teasing voice. When he didn’t hear your response, the bubble of anxiety appeared in his body. Twisting the knob and finding it unlocked, he quietly and carefully opened the door. Seeing your back immediately, seeing your side rise and fall making him sigh in relief that you were still alive. Closing the door gently but made a noise to alert you of his presence. Taking a seat behind you, he ran his cold fingers on your back, watching you arching at the sudden coldness of his fingers. Smiling slightly, he asked what’s wrong. 

Turning around to face him, you buried your face on his chest, inhaling his strong masculine scent. Instinctively wrapping his arms around you, he played with your hair with one of his hands. Tapping on your head slightly, beckoning for you to answer his question. With no way out, you decided to come clean. You explain how you feel like you don’t feel like you deserve to be treated as special on your birthday and all that sort. His face was void of emotion as he stared at the ceiling with his unique pair of blue eyes. Outside he might seem emotionless. But inside, he was on the brink of insanity. Who dares to put such an idea on his s/o’s mind? Why would you think of that? Was this insecurity of yours also his fault?

“That must be the most stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re not special? Please. Don’t try to make me laugh with that joke ‘cause it’s not funny. You are a jewel, a star, a constellation. As rare as the gems, or rather visions. You can even rival the very sun with your smile. I know those demons in your head keep saying those words to you, the temptation is so tempting, right? Just succumbing to them to make them quiet. But that’s why I’m here, my dearest snowflake. I’m here for you. You’re so special to everyone, most especially to me. You mean the world to me. Anyway, enough of this tear-jerking stuff, we have a party to celebrate. And we can’t celebrate it without the birthday gal/guy now can we?”

Despite your protests, he lifted you effortlessly and carried you outside and into the dawn winery where the party was held. Placing you on the ground and pushing you forward where people from Mondstadt came and greeted you with happy birthdays. Smiling at the sight of you being overwhelmed at the warm greetings, and then chuckling at how bright your face became. Diluc nudges him to you, beckoning him to help you before returning to what he was previously doing (most likely trying to force a bard to not finish all the wines in the vicinity).

After a while in the party, Kaeya brings you to a secluded place with no people for air. Being in a party filled with people could be suffocating at times, especially if you’re not used to it. He intertwined his hands with yours and bends down to meet your eye level (or leans down if you have the same height as him-). He gives you a cheeky smile and proceeds to place a peck on your lips. Chuckling when you pouted and glared at him, wanting more kisses.

“My my, what a greedy vixen~ But it is indeed your birthday so I guess I have no choice but to oblige to whatever my birthday vixen wants me to do. Would you like me to strip as well? Haha. Kidding kidding. Happy birthday, princess/prince. May many more to come. Oh! I forgot. I heard from a certain birdie that you ordered for a personal performance from me~ would you like to get it now?” 

Since we all know that Venti practically doesn’t do anything like every day, I would safely say that he would remember your birthday. Probably save some mora to buy you a gift for your birthday, even though it’s not as fancy as the people in Liyue (they all rich kids-), it’s still meaningful. He probably made a bracelet all by himself with the beads he either bought or also made by himself. Nevertheless, he was as excited as Kaeya for your birthday. Already prepared songs to sing for you when that day comes. 

Venti immediately searches for you when the day finally arrives, but his excited and bright smile vanishes when he can’t find you in the crowd of people. Raising a brow at your sudden disappearance, he searched for you everywhere, the tavern, the church, the headquarters, everywhere but your house. So when he finally arrives at your house, he was filled with worry and concern. Entering your room through the window like usual, he sees your figure sitting on the floor while reading a book.

He pouted at the sight as he made his presence known by asking you why you were here and reading a book on your birthday. He watches as you jump from where you are and turns to look at him, sighing at the sight of him. He slowly made his way to you and sat next to you, his legs sprawled across the floor. He takes note of the food around you, which was non-birthday festive, it was just ordinary food. Not understanding why you’re sulking in your room, he asked you what’s wrong. 

Venti’s eyes widened at your explanation, feeling the sadness leaking at the words you said. They weave themselves around his heart, squeezing it, making him have a hard time breathing. He shares your pain. He was your soulmate after all. He immediately engulfed you in a hug, stuffing his face on the crook of your neck. You were so vulnerable in his eyes. You were so fragile. He desperately wants to protect you from the pain. But looks like he can’t protect you from your own demons. 

“Even though I promised myself to not say or do anything that’ll make you sad, I just need to get it off my chest. I’m sorry you had to suffer through that, those demons that a simple bard that weaves stories into songs can’t erase. Alright, no more feeling sorry for yourself. It’s time to get out and spend the rest of the day enjoyable, perfect for my precious Cecilia.” 

Without any warnings, he picked you up and jumped out of your window. Shrieking at the sudden fast pace, you instinctively wrapped your hands around him as he landed on the ground. Giving you a smug smile while saying “didn’t think i’d let you fall now?” Please slap him. Anyway, he laughed at your aggression and continued to run. Even if you ask where you’re going, he just says it's a secret. So might as well enjoy being in his arms as he continues to run (you swear you can feel the wind adding to his speed but that was just maybe your imagination-).

After a while, he placed you down and you realized where you are. It was Starsnatch Cliff, surrounding you were Cecilia flowers. Venti jumped on you, making you fall to the ground as he giggles. His hat flown back from the force of his sudden attack, he still has that stupid big smile on his face. Since his laughter is contagious, you couldn’t help but laugh alongside him. His eyes glistened with delight at the sight of your smile finally. Grabbing your hand and placing the bracelet he made, he pressed a kiss on your knuckle.

“This bracelet shall be a promise from me to you, a fellow bard to the fairest queen/king. I shall love you for eternity, this heart will only beat for you, and this body belongs to you. If you’re in dire need of assistance, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be there, forever and always. Happy birthday, my sweet flower.”

[x] Main Page || [x] Mondstadt Page || [x] Fatui Harbingers Page 

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[duskholland]

Had to send this to you bc your writing is so amazing 😩 friend! Tom showing you pictures on his camera roll of a trip he was on and forgetting he had nudes in there, and you scroll to accidentally find them and you’re both stunned for a second but he shoots his shot by telling you that there’s more, you can look at them if you want. and you do, and toms behind you watching you look at them. he even tells you there’s a video too, if you wanna see it. and you’re like now or never, so you tell him yes. bc the sexual tension would be so high bc it’s uncharted waters and I could see Tom dragging you into his lap to watch the video together and him being like am I big enough for you? I was thinking about you and it would be SMUTTTTTTT whew I need to lay down 🥲🥵

ugh...your mind. I love this! 18+ nsfw !!!

– clearing out the askbox – 

“Hey, do you want to see..? I took some photos of it- Wait, let me just find them.”

You wait patiently as Tom digs around in his pocket, his tongue between his lips as he focuses on procuring the device. He makes a loud tada sound as he whips it out, his eyes sparkling as he quickly starts to scroll through his photos. You watch him closely, admiring his side profile discreetly.

You’ve known Tom for years, met him at a function in London through a mutual friend. When he’d moved into a large townhouse just in the outskirts of the city a few months ago, you’d been one of the people to move in with him. He’s been away for several weeks, on press in Europe, but now that he’s back, he’d dragged you down onto one of the sofas in the living room to share his stories and show off his photos.

“Is it really as big as they say?” You wonder. “I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower before.”

Tom hums, and you watch as he scrolls through his photos, eyes focused. He looks very good today -- biceps pressing out against his black t-shirt, his Rolex glinting on his wrist. His hair lies naturally over his forehead too -- soft, brown, wavy. Your friend is very attractive, something you’ve always been aware of, but the time apart has made your feelings sharpen.

“Yeah, it’s bloody huge,” Tom muses. “Ah! Here you go, love.”

Tom carefully passes you his phone, and you swallow harshly when your fingers brush his and you feel sparks light off at his touch.

“Wow,” you exclaim, squinting as you admire the photo of the tower, soaring up into the sky. “You’re right. It is big.”

“Mmm. There’s more. You can scroll if you want.”

You start to flick through the photos, smiling as they change a little with each shot. Some of them are blurrier than others, and after a while they change as Tom moves from the ground below the monument, to climbing the staircase, then getting in the lift, then travelling to the top. You enjoy watching the story progress, seeing the shots of some of Tom’s friends, then a few selfies of Tom in sunglasses with a wide cityscape captured behind him, then--

You gasp softly as you scroll a little bit too far, and find yourself staring at a photo of Tom’s cock.

“Oh shit,” Tom mutters. You feel him go very still beside you. You’re sitting so close together that you can feel his thigh, warm to touch. “I… Forgot that was on there.”

You swallow dryly, suddenly feeling your pulse throbbing in your ears. You can’t stop looking at the photo, marvelling at the sight of Tom’s cock, red and erect, sitting in his hand. He’s clearly in a hotel room, and the lighting and the angle are very good, leaving little to the imagination. You bite your lip as you notice the way he has a strong vein curving down the side of his member, and find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you try, desperately, to snap out of it.

“It-it’s okay,” you mutter, voice hoarse. Your face feels hot with embarrassment, but you can’t deny the arousal coursing through your system too.

“There’s more,” Tom says, voice low. You can feel him looking at you, and there’s no doubt in your mind that your friend can tell, just from your reaction, that you like looking at his nudes. “You can look at them too, if you want.”

You tilt your head slowly, glancing at him, your eyes taking in his expression: cheeks slightly rosy, smirk on his lips, gaze pooled with lust. It makes you shiver.

“Okay.”

Tom moves closer, and you can feel his breath on your neck as his fingers slowly shift into your hair, moving it out of your face very delicately, gently. You swallow, your heart beating roughly in your chest as you continue to scroll, your eyes widening as you enjoy the different angles of his cock, each captured crisply by the camera. You feel yourself getting wet, partly from the photos, but also due to the way Tom’s so close. He dips his head down and your breath hitches as he ghosts his lips over your neck, kissing you so softly that it’s almost as if he isn’t there.

“There’s a video too,” he adds, husking into your ear. You moan softly when he sucks on the tender spot behind your jaw. “Watch it.”

You oblige, scrolling past more shots of his cock before arriving at the video. With slightly shaky fingers, you press the play button, biting your lip as you watch the short clip. The air fills with the sound of Tom’s groans, distant and buzzed with slight static, but still hearty enough to make you whimper. He’s kissing your neck with renewed strength, both hands wrapping around your middle, fingers caressing your sides as you stare at the phone. The sight of his arm veins flexing as he gets himself off makes you squirm, aroused not even beginning to cover how turned on you are.

The air is thick as the video ends, Tom cumming with a low cry, his seed shooting out over his hand as his upper stomach. You let the screen fall dark, your breathing heavy and unsteady as he stops kissing your neck.

“What do you think?” Tom asks, his accent hanging heavy in his voice. “Am I big enough for you, darling?”

You nod. With nervous hands, you put the phone down and turn to face him, feeling a surge of confidence as his hold on your waist guides you to sit in his lap. You straddle him, grunting as you feel his cock straining up against his grey sweats, and the pressure that it provides to your aching clit makes you whimper and repeat the action.

“Definitely big enough,” you mutter, looking at your friend closely. He seems to be just as aroused as you are, his hands guiding your movements as you slowly grind down against him.

“I was thinking about you,” Tom admits, “when I was filming the video. Thought about sending it to you, just to see if you’d like it.”

You bite your lip, realising that the attraction you feel towards Tom hasn’t been one-sided.

“Why didn’t you? I would’ve liked to see it.”

Tom’s eyes twinkle with arousal. “Wanted to do it in person, watch your face when you saw my cock.” One of his hands moves away from your waist, and he slips it between your legs. You’re so glad you’re wearing a skirt, because all you have to do is part your thighs and then he’s able to slip two slender fingers between your folds. Tom gives your clit a few teasing rubs before slipping his fingertips down to your entrance. You whimper when he slips them into your heat, meeting no resistance, and you moan loudly as he curls his fingers and starts to stroke up against your g-spot. “Fuck, darling. You’re soaked for me.” He leans in to peck your cheek, leaving his lips by your ear as he adds, “Do I turn you on?”

“Yes,” you whine immediately. Your moans grow louder as Tom continues to fuck your heat, his thumb shifting up to nudge against your clit. You reach up and grab at his shoulders, grinding down to meet his fingers every time they thrust up into you, feeling arcs of pleasure spiral out from your cunt with each movement. “You feel so good, Tom. Been dreaming about this for months.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, love.” Tom’s back to nibbling at your neck. “Anything else you’ve thought about doing with me?”

As good as it feels to have his fingers working you open, you know there’s one thing on your mind.

“Yeah,” you admit breathlessly. You look him straight in the eye. “I want you to fuck me, Tom.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirk intensifying. “Oh, really?”

You hum. “Yeah. I want to ride you right here, right now. Feel how big your cock actually is.”

Tom swears, his fingers leaving your centre. “Okay,” he agrees, voice tight. “There’s a condom in my jacket, I’ll go-���

“I’ll get it,” you say instead. You kiss his cheek before standing from his lap, your legs a little shaky as you walk from the living room to the porch, thankful that you’re the only ones home. By the time you return to the lounge, Tom’s stripped off completely, sitting bare on the comfortable sofa with his hand around his cock. You toss him the condom as you take a few moments to pull off your tight shirt, your skirt, and your underwear, keeping your bra on before settling in his lap.

“You’re so hot,” Tom mutters, running his hands all over you. His touch against your bare skin feels electric, and you find yourself pushing into him as you enjoy feeling him map you out. “Bloody stunning.”

“Thank you,” you reply, almost a little bashful. You sit back and watch as Tom pumps his cock, hard and leaking precum, just like the video, before he rolls down the condom. Your eyes admire the lines of his abs, strong and defined, and the rest of him, equally attractive, and you feel your cunt clench as you imagine how good it’s going to feel to have him unravel you. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

With the condom on, Tom’s hands go back to your hips. He gently pulls you forward and you sit up, reaching down to guide his cock between your folds.

“Neither can I,” he admits, eyes trained between your legs. “Been thinking about- fuck- about your sweet little pussy for months, sweetheart, I--” He breaks off completely when you slide down onto him, your walls expanding to accommodate him. Your forehead falls to rest on his shoulder as you breathe deeply, moaning as he fills you up. “So good.”

“You’re so big, Tom,” you whimper. After leaving a moment to adjust, you sit back up and slowly start to ride him, taking your time as you get used to the fit of his body. You can’t stop yourself from whimpering, loudly, as his tip brushes up against your g-spot repeatedly, igniting a deep frenzy of sparks in the pit of your stomach. “Feels so fucking good inside me.”

Tom’s face is pulled tight with enjoyment, and you moan as you see his jaw clenching and the deep line of concentration furrowed between his brows. When he opens his eyes, you see nothing but appreciation and arousal webbed across the depths of his gaze.

“Love your pussy, Y/N,” he moans, cheeks flushing deeper. One of his hands stays on your hip, guiding you, and the other goes to touch your clit. He grins as he rubs your bud and feels you clench around him. “You like that, yeah? Like the way it feels for me to be inside you?”

“Yes, Tom,” you whisper.

“I know you do, I can feel how wet you are.” Tom’s watching you like you’re a spectacle, his words interspaced with small grunts as he lifts his hips to meet your movements. “So fucking snug for me, aren’t you, love? Your pussy feels so good... I’m not going to last long.”

“Neither am I,” you warn. You can already feel it building, building, building, and with each slap of skin on skin, coupled with the noise of your wet arousal getting fucked by his member, you get closer. “Fuck, Tom, ‘m gonna cum-”

“Do it,” he coaxes, his own voice strained. “Wanna watch you fall apart for me, love. Go on.” He rubs your clit a little faster. “I’ve got you.”

Tom’s grip on you is unwavering as you peak with a loud moan, your walls spasming around his cock as your orgasm sweeps across you in an intense wave of unyielding pleasure. You grip at his shoulders, shuddering as you continue to bounce on his length, not stopping until Tom climaxes as well. You feel his cock pulse as he finishes, his breathing coming out in low, grunting pants, and as the two of you ride it out together, his forehead falls to your shoulder.

“So good,” he whimpers, lazily kissing up your neck. You still in his lip, recovering your breath, and then both of Tom’s hands move to your face. He looks at you, eyes full of appreciation, and you find yourself smiling softly at him. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggle, nodding your head. “Seems like we’re doing this in a bit of a backwards order,” you point out.

Tom smiles before uniting your lips, his mouth feeling hot against yours. He’s still smiling when he pulls back, his eyes slightly nervous.

“We are,” he admits. “Would you like to come out on a date with me?”

You nod, your heart warming in your chest.

“Yes, Tom,” you say, pausing to kiss him again. “I’d love to.”

[spencersawkward]

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted! 

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.