#did you say spiderman au?

[alwaysthesitter]

Surprise starter for @puppetoffthehook "A radioac-what now?" Steve had stared Nancy square in the face, as she looked incredibly annoyed to have to be explaining this for what was surely the fourth or fifth time. Steve just couldn't wrap his head around it, but then again, that made sense in terms of everything that the Upside Down had to throw at them. It made sense because nothing made sense, and because that ridiculous and horrible place seemed to be full of surprises.

Surprises, apparently, including that the fact that he was bit had led to him getting some sort of super powers. "No no, that doesn't make sense. Normally if someone gets bit by a bat, they're going to turn into a vampire. I might not know horror movies that well, but I know that much. How would the fact that those things attacked me give me something good?" It made no sense. The Demobats were part of Vecna's army, and providing any of the party an advantage with powers seemed idiotic. But then, he figured, the bats probably didn't expect any of their victims to survive.

Now what he was supposed to do with all of this information, that was the key. It was going to take him time to figure out what all he could do at this point, though so far he learned that he could climb walls and that was pretty fucking cool. He was just trying to get through his normal life otherwise, heading to the pool with the rest of the party to enjoy the Summer day. He had learned to get somewhat of a grip on his newfound powers, and thought it would be a fairly decent day, until -

His hazel eyes widened, looking down at his arm. Every dark hair seemed to be sticking up, a chill going down the back of his neck. Everything seemed to be normal. Nothing creepy lurking in the pool. No glowing gates to another universe. Just the regular pool attendees, and the lifeguards doing their job in watching to make sure nothing happened. He shook it off, figuring it was nothing, even though his head was throbbing and telling him something didn't belong here.

[lavenderstobins]

[doesn’t ever talk about my aus or my wips] damn… i can’t believe nobody asks about my aus and my wips

[norikuna]

SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

[darknight3904]

buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

[moonlight-records]

Paddock Throuple | OP81 & LN4 (sm!au)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader x lando norris

summary: an insight to the paddocks favorite throuple outside of f1 before a race weekend

warning: none!

fc: none!

oscarpiastri tagged yourusername and landonorris

liked by yourusername, landonorris, yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and 1.6m others

oscarpiastri this is why lando and y/n need to be supervised when they're together

view all 982,403 comments

user025 LANDOSCARY/N NATION WAKE UP!!!

user842 what are they doing in the first photo?? 😭

user5936 THE PURPLE HOODIE IS SOOO CUTE WHERE IS IT FROM???

↳ user382 i think it's lando's hoodie on his store! ↳ user5936 runNING RN I NEED IT

carlossainz55 is lando trying to...crawl into the game?

↳ oscarpiastri yes but not to shoot since he's bad, the balls got stuck ↳ landonorris RUDE OMG??? ↳ yourusername don't cry cause he's right ↳ carlossainz55 they're right you are not...the best ↳ landonorris THE SLANDER IS--WILD

logansargeant y/n! grab me a coke while you're up there 🙏

↳ yourusername i got you bestie! 💕

user8739 YES OFF TRACK PHOTOS WE'RE SO BACK!!!

yourusername YOU LOVE US AND YOU KNOW IT!!!

↳ landonorris YEAH, WHAT Y/N SAID!! ↳ oscarpiastri just because I love you both, doesn't mean my statement isn't wrong. ↳ landonorris BOOOOOOOO ↳ yourusername 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅

yourusername tagged oscarpiastri, landonorris, logansargeant and alex_albon

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, logansargeant, alex_albon, arthur_leclerc, and 1.1m others

yourusername someone say mclaren & williams double date? 👀

comments on this post has been limited

logansargeant did someone say adventure?

landonorris we should run it back like NOW

alex_albon best night ever!!

arthur_leclerc what is happening in the second photo?

↳ alex_albon lando and oscar trying to hold logan up but it back fired so i came to his rescue ↳ landonorris alex failed at his rescue mission ↳ alex_albon SHUT UP 😫 ↳ logansargeant i think alex did a great job at saving me 🥰 ↳ oscarpiastri well if someone didn't scare us, it would've been a perfect photo ↳ yourusername oops?

charles_leclerc you are all menaces together i love it

↳ landonorris i was about to say we weren't better when streaming 😂

lewishamilton44 did someone win me something?

↳ yourusername yes king 💪💪

oscarpiastri okay i'll admit it, the amusement park was fun

↳ yourusername YES I WIN!!!

landonorris tagged yourusername and oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, maxverstappen, and 1.6m others

landonorris pre-race date night ft. spiderman 🥵🫢

view all 1.1m comments

user9473 stop y'all are so CUTE 🥹🥹

user34 omg omg I WAS AT THE SAME AQUARIUM AND THOUGHT I WAS INSANE ↳ yourusername not insane! ↳ user34 OMG YOU RESPOND!!!

alex_albon IS THAT SPIDERMAN?!

↳ oscarpiastri yes, yes it is ↳ landonorris met a REAL celebrity today ↳ yourusername ugh soooo upset i missed spidey 😫

user406 THE SPIDERMAN ONE AHAHAHA

user3857 please tell me y/n is coming with y'all to Singapore!! PLEASE!!!

↳ yourusername 🤭

yourusername tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, alex_albon, arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen, logansargeant and 1.3m others

yourusername pretty boyfriends and prettier helmets 😮‍💨😮‍💨

comments on this post has been limited

maxverstappen i swear they never can agree on the weather

↳ yourusername of course not! one is always too hot and one is always too cold

landonorris i feel like you're only dating us for the helmets

↳ oscarpiastri and the paddock passes ↳ yourusername 😮...what?

logansargeant y/n i got our drinks ready

↳ yourusername LETS GOOOO!!!

landonorris you know i didn't get a good luck kiss

↳ oscarpiastri i second this. how are we suppose to do good without our good luck kiss to start the race weekend? ↳ landonorris we can't ↳ yourusername oh you big babies, i'm coming!!

[s6rine]

NO STRINGS ATTACHED

main masterlist

LOOK UP IN THE SKY! IT'S A BIRD, IT'S A PLANE— WRONG... IT'S MEGUMI?!

SYNPOSIS : yn, an ordinary girl with a love for spiderman and a part-time job at the local record shop near campus, unknowingly catches the attention of tokyo’s (in)famous masked vigilante after a chance collision. who is this spiderman beneath the mask, you ask? none other than megumi fushiguro—the very “nonchalant”, yet talented guy who works at the skate shop just down the street. will the infatuated spiderman fangirl be able to find out his secret before it sends her into a spiral of unanswered questions?

STATUS : HIATUS

WHO : spiderman!megumi x fem!reader

TAGS : spiderman megumi, haha skater & (ear) pierced up megumi cuz i say so hahahahah, college au, not spiderman lore accurate (no canon events or whatever), kms/kys jokes, characters r most likely gonna be ooc, smau, crack, fluff, everyone is aged up, drinking/smoking mention probably, strangers to friends to lovers, modern au, cursing suggestive references/jokes, angst maybe at one point, lol maybe one sided hate at one point hahahaha......... ha??? who said that 😥, pining at one point be warned mwahahah CONTENT WARNING : each chapter will have their individual warnings ! (lowercase work intended)

AUTHOR'S NOTE : sigh if u think you've seen this before you probably have because i made a fanfic with the exact same slight(??) premise but then my friend deleted everything on my acc so !!! #wehateuhana anyway idea very heavily inspired by my goat @chososcamgirl god bless u girla (please please PLEASE!!! Go check out her super awesome CURRENT FANFIC and her UPCOMING ONE i was inspired by!!).... chapter names r honestly just based off of the songs i had on repeat while writing AUTHOR'S NOTE PT.2 : also i'd like to say i did get inspired by other fanfics i have read so if u notice smth seems similar to another fanfic lmk !!!! I CAN'T FIND THEM KMS TAGLIST : open , comment or send an ask to be added ! : )

PLAYLISTS : ( intros ! )

YN'S GROUPCHAT : hw for first year advance classes MEGUMI'S GROUPCHAT : yuji hate group

SINGLES : ( extras ! )

A-SIDE : yn's closet | megumi's closet B-SIDE : main playlist | record shop aux | lore drop

TRACKS : ( chapters with a ﹟🎙️next to them include writing ! )

TRACK ONE : lover is a day | ﹟🎙️

TRACK TWO : no. 1 party anthem

TRACK THREE :

TRACK FOUR :

dividers & "no skateboarding" sign by me ! : )

[lilacgaby]

i guess i'm stuck forever by the glue,

oh, and you.

pairing: spiderman!megumi x reader

synopsisꨄ: you and megumi have been on and off for a while, one situation to another has you two webbed together. not like either of you mind. wc: 3k

tags: fem!reader, cursing, fighting, use of she/her, drinking, yuuji is the goat, suggestive (kissing(???)), fluff, pet names, college!au, megumi has a lip piercing. yeah.

as megumi swung back from a night full of work, greeting his roommate yuuji with a fist bump and an exhausted smile as he pulled up his mask, he laid down on his bed exhausted.

his black webbed suit now discarded by the bed as he stared up to the ceiling of his room. his chest heaving slightly as he put an arm over his eyes, blocking out all light so he could sleep for a couple hours before it all began at nine.

not.

he had classes today, classes he dreaded for one reason. you.

something happened between you that should've never been given a single thought, never should've been conceived even in his mind.

he'd kissed you. and that was putting it lightly.

it was at some random college party he'd been convinced to go to by yuuji, he had been taking down cans of cheap beer mindlessly, the bottle now a bit crushed in his hand as he saw you walk in.

fitted dress, hugging you so right. jewelry shining in the dim light of the party, but this place was forgotten as his eyes settled on you. and yours in him.

a lot of the party was a blur in his mind, events playing together and becoming one because the only thing he kept focused on was you.

he thinks you drank a lot too, he can't quite remember. his hand slaps over his eyes in frustration, because the one part he thinks he'll never forget plays in his head on repeat.

your lips on his, you on his lap as his hand held you against him. you were on a bed, how did you get there? he didn't know but didn't care. his hand tilting your head slightly, with the feeling of your hands in his hair. the piercing on his lip rubbing almost addictively painful against yours, his tongue almost slipping in your mouth until–

todo. his stupid upperclassman barged in, a comically loud gasp coming from his lips as he yelled, “megumi and [name] are making out in here!”

safe to say you jumped off of him pretty quick, his hands ripped off your waist as he stood to attention, you shoving past him as you left. megumi shot an annoyed glare as he walked past him, only for yuuji to laugh in his face as he settled back onto the couch of the living room.

“what?” megumi grunted, he was already annoyed, he didn't need yuuji laughing at him right now.

“it's just..” yuuji pointed a finger to his face, before cracking an impossibly wider smile. “you have lipstick all over your face megumi.”

after throwing a pillow at yuuji’s face, he went home.

but you've been on his mind ever since, and he didn't know what to do about it.

you've been ‘friends’ for a while, only because of mutual relations between your other friends. but you'd always had this weird connection between you two. sharing wired headphones during school trips, lending a shoulder to sleep on, studying together.

he'd hate to think it'd be lost just because of a drunken— no it wasn't an accident. far from it. but he just wished he talked to you before it got that far.

with a groan, he shoves his head into a pillow, letting out a muffled scream.

he finally felt his thoughts calm down, his eyes closing as he fell asleep..

and awoke to the beeping of his alarm clock. he threw a web at it and stuck it to the wall. this was going to be annoying.

you seemed to be just as awkward as he was about this whole ordeal, fingers playing with each other as you avoided eye contact with him at all cost.

not like he fared any better, anytime he tried to start up conversation with you, his eyes would fall to your lips and make him flush red.

just two hopeless idiots.

class ended with no words spoken between you two and a voice screaming at him to do something. anything.

but he didn't, and you were already gone. he sighed before packing up and heading back to the dorm.

yuuji had become sort of like his intelligence.. though it wasn't the best idea megumi ever had, he was good hearted about it at least.

as megumi snacked on a bunny-shaped popsicle, yuuji looked shocked to see him. he looked at him blankly before starting, “i didn't think you'd be here.”

megumi squinted, “why wouldn't i be in my own house?”

“because doc oc attacked by one of the school dorms?”

a moment of silence passed, the bunny now miserably dripping down the drain forgotten, as megumi ran to put his suit on. “lead with that shit, idiot!”

he zipped out the window of his room, yuuji yelled out behind him, “dorm 5-C!”

megumi swung quickly, the black and white suit making him stand out in the broad daylight as he sped over there. landing a kick on the face of the man controlling the robotic suit, before landing perfectly on the top of the dorm.

“hey freak. don't you have anything better to do?” he mocked, before webbing down one of their arms.

“oh, nice of you to finally show up, spiderman.” the man spoke, attempting to grab him but slamming his hand down onto the building instead. “so slow, what if i'd killed someone already?”

“you think you're that good?” he sped over to land a kick on the main body of the mission, making the man keel over.

“no, i know so.” the man retorted, before slamming down three arms at once. he missed megumi entirely, but one section of the dorm was now completely cut off.

‘crap’. megumi thought, before attaching a string of web to the man's neck. “can you be more considerate next time?” before he could swat it off, a wave of venom passed through his neck, paralyzing him.

megumi, after breathing a sigh of relief, quickly did a once-over of the damaged area. swinging by only to see you, standing at the broken off chunk of what must've been your room with a horrified look.

you stared blankly at the outside, an odd look on your face. the boba that you stopped to get at the cafe now dropped on the floor.

megumi rushed over to you, moving you from the dangerous edge as he instinctively asked, “[name]! are you okay?”

you looked at him, tilting your head in confusion as he held you close. “..spider-man? why do you know my name?”

shit.

“uhh. i.. know one of your friends? he spoke of you once.”

“really? who?”

“um.. oops.. his name must of slipped my mind.”

“oh?”

“just– listen, you've got to find someone to stay with. sorry about this, but your dorm is wrecked.”

it seemed to get your attention off the topic for a second you looking over and mentally crying at all your lost things. “aw man, my stuff.”

he finally let you out his embrace so you could start calling up people to let you stay with them. “um.. i'm really sorry about this [name].”

“it's not your fault spider-man,” you said while texting, “i probably would be dead if you didn't come when you did. so thank you.”

you gave him a polite smile, before he nodded and swung off.

he finally made it back to his dorm, slumping over at his desk, changing quickly so he could just be done.

he walked out his room, sweatpants hung low as he went to go get another bunny popsicle, only for this one to meet the same fate as its predecessor when he saw you walk in with yuuji.

“hey megumi!” yuuji waved, his eyes wide as if to signal something.

“she's gonna be staying here, since her dorm was ruined by a villain. isn't that horrible?”

“why are you being weird?”

“i'm not?”

megumi stood jaw slack at the implications of living with you, his face flushed before he let out a small. “okay.”

weeks living with you weren't bad. you were a good roommate, you'd clean, do your part of the dishes, hang out as you three, it was all good.

he'd let you borrow his clothes, his sweatshirts and pants became you new style. since his fight with that villain had left you without any clothes.

everything had been fine, you'd even hung out in his room one on one once, lazing about as you laid on the silken sheets, not knowing how you were affecting him.

one day, an altercation with some random villain had left him bleeding from the stomach, stumbling as he walked in. he only managed to make it to the living room, before falling onto the floor. he didn't have his suit on thankfully, he had been caught off guard and had to fight without it, but he'd never missed the slight protection it gave him until now.

you saw him, keeled over on the floor, and rushed to his side. “megumi? what's–” you let a sharp gasp escape your lips at the sight of the blood puddle under him. you flipped him over as gentle as you could, pulling up his shirt and running to find a kit.

you didn't think you'd ever need to use your sewing skills for skin, but you were weaving the needle in and out of the huge wound with precision, ignoring the tears burning at you eyes.

you didn't know what was going on with him, why'd he'd leave at random hours throughout the night and come back bruised every time. but you couldn't find it in yourself to ask.

now you wish you did.

“megumi?” he was out cold, face still as you poked his cheek gently. you dabbed at his wound, cleaning it up before getting yuuji to help him into his bed.

he woke up alone, his wounds even from the months before having been taken care of. when he walked in to the kitchen, only to have you grab his hand.

“megumi.”

“ah. [name].” his eyes were wide as he stared at your grip on him. “what.. what do you do when you go out? you come back all.. bruised and stuff.”

crap.

“i.. i can't tell you.”

you gripped his hand tighter at that, before letting go completely. “‘kay. but,” you held up a finger to his face. “i'll take care of your injuries everyday.”

his eyes widened impossibly, before a small smile overcame his face. “yeah? sounds good.”

that's how he found himself, every night with your hand tending anything that ailed him. you'd make jokes about what you think he was out doing, beating up underclassmen or whatnot. until.. he left his mask in plain vision once.

“hey, why do you have spider-man's mask in here?”

his breath hitched, eye catching the object that fell out of the closet he shoved it in.

“uh.. i'm.. spider-man's friend?” he mentally face palmed.

…

“oh!” you said, eyes brightening. “now i get it! wouldn't you believe it if i said that i met spider-man when my dorm like.. got destroyed?”

“yeah. uh– he told me.”

“oh! he said he had a friend, i didn't know it was you!”

“yeah i help him. research and stuff, get caught in the aftermath a lot.”

“that makes sense. you're so cool megumi.”

he flushed, becoming hyper aware of your hands on his.

“yeah, whatever.”

your almost nightly ritual was only cut off by a party your friend was throwing. you were so excited, not having gone to one since your dorm room was destroyed.

until you needed someone to help zip up your dress. with your friends half an hour away, you wrapped a towel around yourself and knocked on megumi’s door.

“yo–” whatever he was going to say got caught in his breath at this sight of you, clad in a towel.

“hey megumi. can you help me real quick?”

he ripped his eyes off of you momentarily, before averting his eyes and gesturing for you to come in.

he almost freaked out when you dropped the towel, only to see a gorgeous dress underneath. “can you zip me up? i can't reach.”

he sucked in a deep breath, before putting a thumbs up.

with shaky hands he zipped up your dress, instinctively you turned around. “how do i look?”

he couldn't voice his words, but as you saw the gulp that came over him, you knew you looked good. with a pat on the back and a, “see you there!” you set off.

and you found yourself in the same position as the last time, except he was on top of you, your hands pulling him closer as your legs wrapped around him. same bed too, not that it mattered.

you felt the same pressure from his piercing from last time, you two weren't nearly as drunk as then though. it was bruising your lip, you two were breathless, his hands moved, about to hold your face when–

his phone rang. you both jumped, but when he saw who it was he knew he had to answer. it was yuuji, and he wouldn't have called if it wasn't important. “sorry.” is all he said before he went outside.

he always kept his suit near him, so he slipped it on and went to the site where it was reported doc oc would be. being he escaped prison and all.

you were upset and angry in all senses of the word. you stormed out into the streets, the cold biting your skin as you stomped away. only to find yourself… entangled in an iron hand.

“spider-man likes you, right?” a man asked, warped voice behind you. “stay still and i won't hurt you. too bad.”

you were dragged, silent as to not upset this strange man. he settled over a random building, holding you over an edge.

“stay quiet 'til he gets here, i don't wanna hear you scream.”

—-

all the information had been wrong, doc had been on the complete opposite side of the city. with a screaming yuuji in his ear, he now knew the villain held you in his grasp. great.

the guy was shaking you around over the edge, the one you were tumbling over mentally was now physical as the far distance to the bottom loomed under you.

his heart sped up at the sight of you, he made his presence known. “hey, how'd you escape from the psych ward?”

“it was confinement, and i don't owe you any answer spider-man! you'll let me beat you down or– or i'll throw your girlfriend off this roof.” the villain shook you slightly, making you yelp.

“you won't be doing anything.”

“oh, yes i will.”

the arm with you encircled in it raised, he sped over to web the base of his body to the ground, kicking the control in with his leg.

the dome surrounding the villains body shattered, leaving a shaking man in its wake.

“d-don't hurt me! or i'll–”

a punch by the side of his head shut him up. “put her down, before i put you down.”

“i– i can't! that arm is broken! t-the whole panel is!”

he looked and sure enough he was right, the control buttons were electrified and tweaking.

he scoffed. “stay here, actually.” he webbed him down, with a little venom just to be safe.

he walked calmly on top of the arm, seeing the relief form on your lips bruised from him.

“hey pretty.” he said, not knowing where the sudden confidence came from.

“spider-man! thank god.” you breathed a sigh. “yeah, don't thank me yet.” he muttered. “you have to trust me [name]. can you do that for me?” he asked, looking right at you as he stood over the only thing keeping you alive.

“i mean.. yeah.”

“okay then. you're going to fall. but i'm going to catch you, okay?”

you nodded, closing your eyes. “okay. don't worry, i got you.”

before you knew it you were falling, you screamed obviously, because you stupidly opened your eyes to the cars moving below. the lights blinding as you fell closer and closer, until you were suddenly in the embrace of him.

“are you okay?” he asked, looking at your face of pure shock at the feeling of being swung around. “yeah, now that you're here! this is so cool!” he smiled, the fabric of his mask wrinkling as he took you to your unknowingly shared home, though he took the long route.

he was a bit too happy when he dropped you off at your window, antsy as you finally settled in. “thank you, spidey.”

“ah, it's nothing. just doing my job you know?” he smirked, you nodded. you tilted you head slightly as you moved towards him, heart in your throat as you put your hand under the neck of his mask, lifting it up just to reveal his lips.

“what, you trying to pay me for my trouble?” he genuinely didn't know why he was acting on his impulses so much around you, maybe it was the freedom of being spiderman. but you didn't mind as you kissed him. sparks flew, almost literally.

a lightbulb went off in your head, you gasped when you felt the metal of his piercing nudge against the sensitive bruise on your lip from earlier.

no way. “megumi?”

he froze, before a small, “hi?” escaped him.

you pulled off his mask, green eyes greeting you and a messy bunch of hair that you have no idea how it fit being revealed. all you could do was laugh, before planting another kiss on his lips.

“you're so dumb. but i guess i am too, huh?”

a smile overcame his lips, matching yours as he let out a small laugh too.

“guess we are.”

the night ended with you two in each others arms, him speaking on his experiences as spider-man and you questioning him on it. his hands now playing with your hair.

“name slipped your mind huh?” you joked, reminiscing on your first conversation with spider-man.

“tch, shut up.” he grumbled, before silencing you with a kiss. he physically didn't want to be far from you anymore, he held you even closer. even if you poked fun at him.

a webbed seal of fate tied you two together, a web woven by cupid themself.

[jaeyunluvbot]

ilysm (i love you spider-man)

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 mark lee x fem!reader, spidermark, friends to lovers, high school au, spiderman!mark

word count 𝟅𝟈 11.2k

NOT PROOFREAD

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

High school wasn’t glamorous. It was 6:00 a.m. alarms, piles of homework, and gym class—a.k.a. your least favorite subject. So, when Coach called for volleyball that day, you sighed and shuffled towards the court like a prisoner headed for trial.

The gym smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber soles, the harsh lights making it hard to focus. You stood by the bleachers, tying your sneakers when Mark stumbled in, late as usual. His hair stuck up in odd places like he’d rolled out of bed and made a mad dash here. Classic.

“Lee!” Coach barked, tossing him a red jersey. “You’re on Team B. Let’s go!”

Mark jogged over, muttering apologies as he passed you. “Hey,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice slightly breathless.

“Hey,” you replied, amused. “Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, pulling the jersey over his head.

Mark was… Mark. Sweet, funny, always a little awkward. You’d known him since middle school, and while he wasn’t exactly the athletic type, you’d never really cared. You’d bonded over you bonded over your mutual interests, anyways, and volleyball was not on the list.

The game started, and you hung back like always, hoping to avoid the ball as much as possible. Mark, however, was front and center.

When the ball came his way, you winced, expecting it to bounce off his face or fly past him entirely. But instead, Mark jumped—higher than seemed possible—and spiked the ball with enough force to make it slam into the court.

Your jaw dropped.

“Whoa!” someone yelled.

Even Coach looked impressed. “Nice hit, Lee! Where’d you learn that?”

Mark shrugged, his face slightly flushed. “Lucky shot.”

As the game went on, Mark’s “luck” didn’t run out. He dove to the floor to save a ball, slid across the court with the grace of a pro, and even managed to block a spike that seemed way out of reach.

By the time the game ended, the entire class was buzzing.

“Did Mark join a secret volleyball league or something?”

You couldn’t help but grin, though your curiosity was starting to bubble over. Since when could he do any of this?

During a break, you found him leaning against the wall, gulping down water like he’d just run a marathon.

“Since when did you play volleyball like that?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

He nearly choked, coughing and spluttering as his face turned red. “I—uh, I’ve been practicing?”

“Practicing?” you echoed, unimpressed. “Mark, the last time we played volleyball, you tripped over the net and nearly took me down with you.”

He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… things change?”

You squinted at him, unconvinced. There was something different about him lately—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Before you could press him further, Coach’s whistle blew, calling everyone back to the court. Mark shot you a quick smile before jogging off, leaving you standing there, your curiosity growing by the second.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the day went on, you started noticing more little things about him. In English class, he caught a pen mid-air without even looking, like he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Nice reflexes, Spidey,” you joked, nudging him.

Mark laughed nervously, shoving the pen into his bag. “Just got lucky,” he said quickly, avoiding your gaze.

Then, in chemistry, he managed to grab a beaker you almost knocked off the table before it shattered on the floor. His hand shot out so fast you barely saw it.

“Whoa,” you said, staring at him. “How’d you do that?”

Mark shrugged, his cheeks turning red. “I dunno, instincts?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could say anything, the teacher called for everyone’s attention.

By lunchtime, you were keeping a closer eye on him, trying to figure out what was going on. He seemed more jittery than usual, like he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself but failing miserably.

When someone dropped their tray in the cafeteria, sending food flying, Mark’s head snapped toward the commotion before anyone else had even noticed. He looked like he was about to jump out of his seat before he caught himself and forced a laugh.

“You good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, totally,” he said, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Just… startled, that’s all.”

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it slide. For now.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different about Mark. He’d clearly changed somehow, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly was different.

And as much as you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t help but wonder: what was he hiding?

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Your parents had been asleep for hours by the time Mark came over that night. It was one of those quiet, lazy Friday nights where the two of you didn’t need to talk much. Just snacks, a couple of blankets, and a well-worn stack of DVDs.

You weren’t supposed to have people over this late—especially not boys—but it was Mark. If your parents knew it was him, they’d probably be fine with it. Still, sneaking him in through your fire escape gave the night a little thrill.

The two of you were huddled on your bed, knees bumping each other as the movie played on the TV. It was some action flick Mark had picked out, but your attention was divided between the screen and him. He looked more relaxed now than he had at school, though every now and then, you caught him glancing toward the door, like he was expecting someone to barge in.

“You good?” you asked softly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Huh? Yeah, totally,” he said, flashing you a sheepish grin. “Just… didn’t expect him to survive that fall.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “It’s a superhero movie, Mark. No one ever dies unless it’s to make the hero angsty.”

He chuckled at that, leaning back into the couch. “Fair point.”

As the movie went on, the two of you started whispering back and forth, your voices barely louder than the hum of the TV.

“Okay, that was so fake,” you said, gesturing at the screen as the hero miraculously dodged a bullet.

Mark smirked. “You’re telling me this is where you draw the line?”

“I have standards!”

He shook his head, stifling a laugh, when suddenly his posture stiffened. His head tilted slightly, and his hand reached out, brushing your arm.

“Hey,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “Be quiet for a second.”

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“Shh,” he insisted, sitting up straighter. His eyes darted toward the hallway, and he moved to hide on the ground next to the bed, out of view of your doorway.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, a little too loudly.

Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and your mom peeked in, her expression equal parts annoyed and groggy.

“Y/N,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s almost midnight. Keep it down, okay?”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry, Mom. I’ll quiet down.”

She lingered for a moment, her gaze sweeping the room. You held your breath, praying she wouldn’t notice the second pair of sneakers tucked gently away next to your your bedside table. Thankfully, she just nodded and shuffled back down the hallway.

The second the coast was clear, you turned to Mark, your heart still racing.

“How the hell did you know she was coming?” you hissed, keeping your voice low this time.

Mark scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “I, uh… I just… I don’t know, I guess I heard her footsteps?”

“Footsteps?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Mark, I didn’t hear anything. How did you hear her through a closed door? And while we were talking, no less?”

He let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a little too casually. “Maybe I’ve just got good ears?”

“Good ears my ass,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You’ve been weird all day. First in gym, then in class, and now this. What’s going on with you?”

Mark froze for a second, his expression flickering between panic and guilt. “Nothing! I swear, it’s—nothing. You’re imagining things.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, okay” you said sarcastically, not realizing how close you were to the truth.

Mark’s laugh came out a little too forced this time. “Anyways, we should probably finish the movie, it’s getting late.”

You didn’t push the issue—for now. But as the movie played on, you couldn’t help but glance at him, your curiosity growing stronger with every passing minute.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

After your slightly strange movie night, everything feels... normal. You’re at school with Mark again, cracking jokes about your teachers and helping each other survive the monotony of class. 

After school, you walk home together as usual. Mark’s quiet, more so than usual, and you figure he’s just tired. He always seems tired these days.

"Are you okay?" you ask, nudging his arm.

He flinches slightly, then forces a smile. "Yeah, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well last night."

You nod, though his answer doesn’t quite satisfy you.

Later that evening, you decide to take a quick walk to clear your head. The streets are quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment when you hear shouting—a man yelling for help. Your heart pounds as you turn the corner and see a masked figure—Spider-Man—swinging into action.

It’s like watching a movie come to life. He moves with incredible speed and grace, disarming the attacker in seconds. The victim stumbles to safety, and Spider-Man barely pauses before disappearing into the night.

You stand frozen, your mind racing. Spider-Man isn’t supposed to be real—not in your world, not in your life. And yet, here he is, saving people in your neighborhood.

When you finally make it home, Mark texts you almost immediately:

Hey, you okay?

The timing feels weirdly coincidental.

Yeah... just saw something crazy on my walk. Spider-Man.

There’s a pause before he replies.

Mark: Whoa, no way. He’s around here?

You: Guess so. It was... surreal.

Mark: Sounds scary. You’re sure you’re okay?

Something about the way he asks makes you hesitate. He sounds so concerned, almost like he’s talking to himself.

You: Yeah. Are YOU okay?

Mark: Me? Of course. Just checking on you. I saw your location said you were outside.

You chastise yourself for not remembering he had your location. You’d have probably done the same thing if his location said he was outside in the middle of the night. Though, you’d never had the habit of checking his.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Saturday nights are sacred.

Since middle school, you and Mark have had this unspoken rule: no matter what, Saturday nights are yours. Whether it’s binging your favorite show, building Legos, or debating which movie series is superior, it’s the highlight of your week.

You’ve been looking forward to tonight all day. After tossing a blanket over the couch and setting out snacks—chips for you, candy for him—you settle in, phone in hand, waiting for Mark’s familiar knock.

He’s usually punctual, arriving right when he says he will. But tonight, the minutes stretch into an hour, and he’s still not there.

You glance at your phone. No texts, no missed calls.

You: Where are you? I’m starting to think you forgot about me.

No response.

You frown but try not to overthink it. Maybe he got caught up with something. You wait another fifteen minutes, then send another text.

You: Mark?? You better not be ditching me for one of your dumb guy friends.

Still nothing. Anxiety begins to creep in, though you try to push it aside. He’s probably just running late.

An hour later, you’ve run out of chips and excuses for his absence.

You: I’m officially mad at you.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve all but given up. You leave one last text before tossing your phone onto the coffee table.

You: Hope you’re okay. Call me when you see this.

Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. Your mind races with possibilities—some silly, some serious. Is he okay? Did something happen? You brush them off as anxious thoughts running wild and try to fall asleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next morning, your phone buzzes with a message from Mark.

Mark: I’m so sorry, Y/N. I got sick out of nowhere last night. Took some medicine and completely passed out. I didn’t even see your texts until now.

You exhale, relieved but annoyed.

You: SICK? You ditched me because you were sick? I’m so offended.

Mark: I’m sorryyyyy. 😭 I’ll make it up to you, I swear.

You: You better be glad I didn’t watch our show without you.

Mark: You wouldn’t dare.

You: Guess you’ll never know. 

His usual playfulness makes you smile, but the knot in your chest hasn’t completely loosened. You know it’s dumb, but a small part of you wonders if there’s more to the story. Mark never misses your hangouts. You’re always the first to know if something’s wrong. And as much as you want to believe his excuse, the insecurity that’s been gnawing at you for years whispers otherwise.

He’s your only real friend, and deep down, you’re terrified of losing him. You’re terrified that one day he’ll outgrow you, that he’ll find someone cooler, funnier, or just... better.

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. Mark said he was sick, and you believe him. There’s no reason to think otherwise. But as you put your phone down and get ready for the day, you can’t help but feel like something isn’t adding up.

You stare at your phone, willing it to buzz with a new message from Mark, but it stays silent. You’ve already texted him a few times this afternoon, and while he usually responds by now, today it’s been almost two hours since your last message. Your thumb hovers over your screen, ready to send something, but you stop yourself. Maybe he’s busy. It’s fine. It’s not like you need him to text you back right away, right?

But you can’t shake the growing discomfort in your chest.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Ever since his message about getting sick a few weeks ago, he’s been a little off. Sure, he’d apologized for missing your hangout, but now, it’s like nothing has changed. During the day, he’s the same—always goofy, friendly, and acting normal when you see him at school. But by the time night falls, he’s almost always gone—his responses slow, often one-word answers, and sometimes, he doesn’t respond at all. And this has gone on for almost a month now.

The more time passes, the more you can’t help but feel like he’s distancing himself from you, like you’ve somehow become a burden on him. You try to tell yourself you’re overthinking it. He’s probably just busy, right? But deep down, there’s a voice whispering that maybe he’s just getting tired of you. You wish you could ignore it, but the insecurity festers, eating away at your confidence with every minute he doesn’t reply.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve already sent him two more texts, no response. You try to sleep, but your mind is spinning. Is he with someone else? You hate that thought, but it keeps creeping in. Maybe he’s found new people to hang out with. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You throw your phone aside, frustrated with yourself, with him, and with the situation. Why do I care so much? You’ve never been the type to need constant validation from someone else, but with Mark? It’s different. You’ve always been there for each other, always shared your time. You didn’t need anything more from him, but now… it feels like you’re losing him.

Then, you get a message.

It's from Mark. Your heart jumps into your throat as you open it. “Hey, sorry. I got totally wrapped up in homework, we still on for tomorrow?”

You read it over and over, but something feels off. It’s a good excuse—too good, maybe. You want to believe him, but part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding you now. He was so there for you, always texting and hanging out after school. But now? It feels like he’s just gone, like a ghost. You don’t know what to believe.

“Can’t, sorry. I have plans with Giselle.”

There’s a pause before his reply comes through. You can almost hear the indifference in his words, even though you know you’re probably reading into it too much.

“Ah, alright. Have fun.”

The message feels too short, too casual. You frown at your phone, biting your lip. The nagging feeling in your chest grows stronger. Has he really just become that indifferent?

You text him back quickly, trying to keep things light, trying to ignore the hurt that lingers in your words. “Yeah sorry, we’ll definitely hang out later this week though, haha.”

But even as you send the message, a part of you wonders if this week is going to be just like the last—another week of him acting normal at school, you trying to text him all night, waiting for responses that don’t come, waiting for a friendship that doesn’t feel the same anymore.

You let out a sigh, toss your phone aside, and climb into bed, your angsty playlist drifting through your ears as you struggle to sleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The bass from the music thumps through your chest as you step into the crowded living room. The lights are dim, the room filled with a haze of colored neon and swirling bodies moving to the rhythm. It’s your first real party in a long time, and the unfamiliar atmosphere is slightly overwhelming. You spot Giselle across the room, her blonde hair shining under the strobe lights as she waves you over.

You smile, grateful for her invitation. The group of people she’s hanging with seems friendly enough, laughing and chatting as they pass drinks around. Giselle introduces you to a few of her friends, and you slip into the crowd easily enough, trying to shake off the tension that’s been building in you ever since Mark stopped replying to your texts.

You’ve been pushing it down all night, focusing on the fun of the party, but it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Is he really busy with homework? Or is he avoiding me? You try not to dwell on it. After all, he’s always been a little unpredictable—he’s probably just caught up with his own stuff.

As the night wears on, you find yourself getting along with Giselle’s friends. You chat with a girl named Ningning who shares a class with you, and you laugh at her sarcastic humor. It’s nice. It feels good to be out and talking with people who aren’t just classmates or distant acquaintances. But still, in the back of your mind, you’re aware of the emptiness Mark’s absence has left. Every few minutes, you glance at your phone, hoping to see a message from him, but there’s nothing.

You tell yourself it’s fine—he’s just busy. But every time you check, you feel a little more disappointed. 

The music pulses louder, and you take a deep breath, shaking off the thoughts of your best friend. Giselle is pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor, laughing as she drags you into the crowd. You let yourself get swept up in the fun for a while, your body moving to the beat, the drinks in your system giving you a comfortable, carefree buzz.

You laugh, enjoy yourself, and even manage to pull out a few impressive dance moves—at least according to Giselle, who’s cheering you on. The night seems to go by in a blur of music and people, the few drinks you’d had adding to the fuzziness of the night’s events.

But as the night winds down, you find yourself standing near the door, chatting with Ningning again. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, a little embarrassed that you’re still hoping for a text from him.

You frown when you see the time: it’s late, and you still haven’t heard from him. You were starting to wonder if you should text him, maybe check in, when Giselle appears beside you. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her eyes narrowing with a knowing look. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking about stuff,” you say vaguely, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

She nods. “You know, it’s okay to have fun without him. Sometimes you gotta do your own thing, right?”

You nod along, but her words hit deeper than she probably intended. Why does it feel like I can’t? you think, but you don’t say it out loud. Instead, you force another smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Giselle offers to drive you home, but you shake your head. “I think I’ll walk. Get some fresh air. Plus, I’ve got pepper spray, just in case,” you joke, trying to ease the mood.

She laughs, but her eyes linger on you for a moment. “Alright, take care of yourself, okay?”

You wave her off as she heads toward the car with her friends. You linger by the door for a moment, a small hesitation gnawing at you, but then you push it aside. Walking will help clear your head.

As you step out into the cool night air, the city streets are alive with the usual hum of late-night activity. There’s a slight chill to the breeze, but you don’t mind it. You wrap your jacket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the effects of the alcohol beginning to wear off as the cold air helps sober you up. The walk is quiet, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe a little easier.

But even though the night is peaceful, your mind still drifts back to Mark. His silence feels like an anchor in your chest, something heavy and uncertain, and as you walk, you can’t stop wondering what’s going on. You’ve spent every Saturday night together for as long as you can remember. And now... now he’s just disappearing.

You try to shake off the feeling, telling yourself it's nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking. Again. But the more you walk, the more your thoughts spiral, until you hear the footsteps behind you.

Before you can even react, a hand grabs your wrist, spinning you around so quickly that your heart jumps into your throat. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a split second, you can’t even process what’s happening. The streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you can’t make out the guy’s face. All you feel is the cold, tight grip on your wrist.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, panic surging through you. You try to pull away, but his hand tightens, and a sickening, familiar feeling spreads through you.

"Hey! Let go of me!" you shout, your voice shaking.

“Quiet, bitch,” the man growls, his breath hot against your neck. You struggle, but his grip tightens, and your pulse quickens.

Just as the fear begins to settle over you, you hear a soft whoosh, followed by a thud that’s too heavy to be anything but a person.

Without warning, the man’s grip on you loosens, and before you can even react, you're yanked off the ground and pulled up a nearby fire escape ladder, higher and higher until you’re standing on a rooftop. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to steady your breath. You glance around, completely disoriented, when the voice of the masker figure breaks the silence. 

You let out a breath, in awe of the Spiderman being right in front of you.

But before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Stay here,” he orders, his tone sharp as he drops you onto a crate by the edge of the roof. “I’ll handle it. Don’t move.”

You don’t even have time to ask him what’s going on before he’s gone, leaving you sitting there alone in the dark, your mind spinning. What the hell just happened? Is this... real? You glance around, still trying to process the fact that Spiderman—the very same guy you’d heard about in the news, the one everyone in the city seems to talk about—just saved you from some creep.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the sound of struggle below, muffled voices, and a distant thud as Spiderman confronts the man you were just seconds away from being attacked by. It’s all over within moments, and before you can fully grasp the situation, Spiderman returns, landing effortlessly on the roof beside you.

He glances at you, his mask giving nothing away, but you notice the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast for someone who should be used to fighting.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now. You nod quickly, trying to push the terror away.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing hard. “Thanks for saving me.”

A long silence stretches between you before you, almost hesitantly, ask, “Did... did you... kill him?”

The question comes out before you can think better of it, but the moment you say it, his head whips toward you in complete shock.

“What?!” he exclaims, his voice full of disbelief. “No! I—no, I didn’t kill him! I just... I knocked him out. I’m not... I don’t... that’s not what I do.”

You blink, surprised at how horrified he sounds. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling sheepish. “Sorry, I... I don’t know how these things work.”

Spiderman’s shoulders visibly relax, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s fine. Just... just stay safe, okay? I’ll get you home.”

You nod, your heart still beating erratically in your chest. Part of you is still processing everything, but another part of you is grateful. Grateful for Spiderman being here tonight, for protecting you when no one else would have been able to.

“Um, thank you again,” you say, your voice softer this time.

His eyes behind the mask seem to soften, but you’re not sure. “I can take you home,” he offers, voice low, almost too gentle, slightly familiar but you’re unable to place exactly where you’d heard it before.

You blink up at him, still in shock, and then remember where you are. “I’m almost home… I can walk the rest of the way.”

But the more you think about it, the more you realize you really don’t want to walk. Not after what just happened. Plus, his presence feels safe in a way you can’t explain.

Spiderman seems to notice the hesitation in your expression, and before you can change your mind, he’s already swooping down, his webbing attaching to a nearby building. “Hold on tight.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you barely process his words. Before you can question how he knows where you live, he shoots another web, pulling you along with him. Your feet leave the ground, and you’re soaring through the city. The wind rushes against your face, and everything is a blur of lights and rooftops.

The whole trip is a disorienting whirl, but it’s somehow comforting in its chaos. Spiderman moves like he’s done this a thousand times, his grip tight around your waist as he swings from one building to the next. The world below you is a distant hum, but your thoughts are still clouded with questions.

And then, as quickly as it began, you find yourself standing on the fire escape of your apartment building. Your legs are a little shaky, but it doesn’t matter. You’re safe.

“Here we are,” he says, glancing up at your window.

You stare at him, still slightly tipsy from the night’s events, but not questioning how he knows where you live. After all, it’s just one of those things that doesn’t make sense, and you don’t really care. All that matters is that you’re safe now.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, feeling oddly vulnerable under his watchful gaze.

He nods again, his hand slipping back to his side as he stands a little straighter. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t walk alone at night again. It’s... not safe. Especially for pretty girls like you.”

You nod, still too stunned to respond properly. You watch as he shoots a web up to the fire escape and swings back into the darkness. You stand there for a moment, your thoughts racing, wondering if the whole thing really just happened. It’s only when you step inside your apartment and hear the quiet of the night that it hits you. Spiderman just saved me, not only that but he’d called you pretty too.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next Monday morning at school, everything feels a little surreal. You’re walking through the hallways, mind still reeling from that night’s events. You still haven’t told anyone, and you feel like you’re about to burst. How in the world had Spiderman been so close to you? And you were actually talking to him, like... you know, a real conversation.

As you sit down next to Mark in homeroom, you can’t help but grin. You need to tell someone about the whole thing, and who better than your best friend? You tap his shoulder and lean in close, trying to act casual but failing miserably.

“Oh my God, Mark, you won’t believe what happened last night,” you blurt out, eyes wide with excitement.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight chuckle escaping him as he looks over at you. “What happened? You go to a party or something?”

You shake your head, not able to contain the grin that stretches across your face. “Worse. I got mugged.” You pause for dramatic effect, watching his eyes widen with concern. “But wait—before you freak out, I was saved. By Spiderman.”

Mark freezes for a second, blinking at you in disbelief. “Spiderman? You’re serious? Like, the Spiderman?”

You nod, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you recount the entire wild encounter, from the guy grabbing you to being yanked onto the roof and saved by Spiderman. You try to make it sound as casual as possible, but you can’t help but feel the thrill of telling someone about your personal brush with New York’s most famous hero.

“That’s insane,” Mark mutters, clearly processing the details. “Wait, so... what happened next?”

“Well, he saved me,” you say, leaning in like you’re sharing a secret. “But... I’m not gonna lie, Mark, he was lowkey hot.” 

Mark splutters, his face twisting with confusion. “What? You don’t even know what he looks like.”

You shrug dramatically, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not about looks. It’s how he was so protective, you know? The way he grabbed me and made sure I was okay... it was hot.”

You watch Mark's face turn a shade of red as his expression shifts from surprise to something else entirely—discomfort, maybe? You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to hold it together.

“No way. You’re a freak, bro,” Mark says, shaking his head and trying to laugh it off. “Like, seriously? You’re crushing on a guy you don’t even know?”

You roll your eyes, letting out a short laugh. “I don’t judge your crushes, so don’t judge mine. It’s called appreciating someone for more than just their looks.”

Mark scowls, but there’s a nervous twitch in his eyes. “I’m not judging. But... I don’t know, it’s just a little weird. You’ve got a crush on Spiderman?”

You smile, feeling a little awkward. “I guess. He’s mysterious, heroic... and I mean, he was pretty hot for someone wearing a mask.” You nudge him playfully, watching the way he looks more and more flustered.

Mark shrugs, but you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes. “Whatever, man. You’re weird. But... I guess if he saved you... that’s... kinda cool.”

It’s hard to ignore the little spark of something else in his voice, even if he’s trying to mask it with humor. You grin to yourself, filing the moment away. You’re not sure why, but it feels like there’s a shift between you two—something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You press the issue no further, but the day goes on, and you can't stop thinking about Mark’s weird reaction. Sure, he’s your best friend, but the way he acted just now... it made you wonder. Could he possibly feel something more for you?

You find yourself entertaining the idea of Mark having a crush on you, before shaking your head and brushing the thought away. There’s no way Mark liked you, if he did, he would have told you.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the week drags on, you can't shake the thought of Spiderman. Sure, you were trying to move on, but it’s hard when you keep running into him every time you step out of the apartment at night. You’ll be walking home from the store, or maybe grabbing dinner with Giselle and Ninging, and bam—there he is, swinging between buildings or dropping down from some rooftop. It’s like he’s everywhere.

At first, you try to brush it off, telling yourself it’s just a coincidence. But then, it starts feeling a little too suspicious, almost like he’s... following you? Or looking out for you?

One night, you’re walking back from your favorite coffee shop, the crisp air of early fall making you hug your jacket tighter. You’ve been texting Mark, as usual, but his replies are slow—too slow. You roll your eyes at the screen, sighing. You swear, it’s like he’s avoiding you or something.

As you round the corner toward your apartment building, you feel that familiar shift in the air, that sensation of something just slightly off. You glance up and sure enough, you spot him—Spiderman—perched on a rooftop above you, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights.

You pause in your tracks, raising a brow. “Really? Again?”

Spiderman tilts his head, as if amused by your reaction. He crouches down and lands lightly in front of you, his movements fluid and graceful.

“You’re following me, huh?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean, I appreciate the protection and all, but you don’t have to babysit me.”

Spiderman straightens, a soft chuckle escaping from behind the mask. “I’m not babysitting,” he says with a playful edge. “Just making sure you don’t run into any... unsavory people.”

You roll your eyes, but there's a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, I’m fine. Been walking these streets for years now.”

There’s a pause, as if he’s considering your words. “I’m still here. Just in case.” His voice is a little warmer than usual, though it’s hard to tell beneath the mask.

You feel a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up. “You’re a real hero, huh?” you quip. “Just swinging in, saving the day. But honestly? I’m starting to get tired of it. I mean, you’re cute and all, but this whole ‘mysterious stranger’ act? It’s getting old.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and as soon as they do, you realize—you’ve just said that to Spiderman.

You quickly recover, trying to act casual. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m just getting a little tired of feeling like I’m in some weird superhero movie, you know?”

Spiderman doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he steps a little closer, his posture still relaxed but with a certain intensity in his eyes—well, you imagine that’s what’s behind the mask.

“Maybe I should back off for a while then,” he says after a beat, his tone more thoughtful. “You’ve got it all under control, right?”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to cover up how your heart is suddenly beating a little faster. “Yeah, I’ve got it under control, obviously.”

“Really?” Spiderman says, his voice a little too calm for your liking. Before you can even process what’s happening, he webs your phone right out of your hand, and you gasp, stumbling back in surprise as it hovers in midair for a second before landing gently in his palm.

You blink up at him in disbelief, your mouth hanging open. “What the hell? Give that back!”

He shrugs, unfazed. “What if someone mugs you again? No offense, but your reflexes suck.”

Your jaw clenches at the jab, but you can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Thanks, I feel so much safer now. I wasn’t even worried about it.”

You reach for your phone, and he hands it back to you, but there’s a look in his eyes—concern, maybe? Or just frustration. “You might not worry, but I do. You seem like you’ve got your act together, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’m just looking out for you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat in the gesture. "Fine," you say, a little too quickly. "I guess I can let you walk with me then. But just so you know, you’re not my personal bodyguard, alright?”

Spiderman grins behind his mask, a little triumphant, but he falls in step behind you. You try to ignore the way his presence feels different—more constant now, like it’s a part of the night itself. You walk for a few minutes, the quiet of the city streets pressing in on you. You try to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, but the weight of the past few days catches up with you, and you find your shoulders slumping a little more with each step.

Spiderman notices, of course. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Finally, he speaks up, his voice softer than usual. “You wanna talk about it? I mean, you’ve been acting a little... off tonight.”

You look over your shoulder at him, surprised that he even noticed. But you don’t hesitate. Maybe it’s the anonymity of the mask. Maybe it’s the strange comfort of having a stranger to vent to. But suddenly, you just want to unload.

“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I mean, I’ve been dealing with some... stuff lately.”

You kick a rock along the sidewalk as you walk, the soft scrape of it filling the silence. “I’ve got this friend, Mark, right? We’ve been close for years—like, best friends. We have this thing where every Saturday, no exceptions, we hang out. Watch movies, talk... whatever. We’re just... us. But lately? He’s been acting weird. Like, really weird.”

Spiderman doesn’t interrupt. He just walks beside you, giving you the space to talk.

“It’s like he’s avoiding me,” you continue, your words gaining momentum. “I get that people get busy, but he’s never like this. He’s slow to reply, sometimes doesn’t even respond at all, and when he does, it’s like he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t even know what happened. It’s just... really frustrating. And I don’t even know if I should ask him about it, because I don’t want to come off as desperate or clingy.”

You kick another rock, your frustration spilling over, and for a second, you feel a little ridiculous. Here you are, talking about Mark to a guy you don’t even know, someone who wears a mask and swings from rooftops. But the words come tumbling out anyway, all of your insecurities and confusion finding a strange kind of release in the cool air of the city.

Spiderman stays quiet for a moment, processing. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, like he’s trying to make sense of your ramblings. “Sounds like he’s pulling away for some reason,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’m sure there’s a reason. Maybe he’s just going through something, you know?”

You shrug, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle in your chest. “I don’t know. I just... I want things Spiderman listens quietly, his footsteps matching yours as you walk. You don’t notice the way his posture shifts, or the way his mask seems to obscure any hint of emotion—though somehow, you feel like he’s really paying attention.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks again, his voice thoughtful and a little gentler than before. “You know, I think you should just talk to him. Mark, I mean.”

You stop in your tracks, looking over at him in surprise. “What?”

Spiderman shrugs, his tone almost casual, but his words don’t match the nonchalance. “I get it. You’re frustrated, and you don’t want to be the one to chase him down. But sometimes, people just need a nudge. If you really want things to go back to the way they were... maybe you should just be honest with him. Ask him what’s up.”

You frown, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. “But what if I look desperate? Or, I don’t know... what if he doesn’t care?”

Spiderman stops walking too, his voice quiet but steady when he answers. “He cares. I’m sure of it.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by how certain he sounds. “How could you possibly know that? You don’t even know him.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t need to. I can tell from the way you talk about him. The way you light up when you mention him. You’re not the kind of person who just forgets someone you care about. And trust me, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to lose that either. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the nearest streetlamp. His words stir something inside you—something you’ve been avoiding all week. The idea that Mark really does care makes your heart feel a little lighter, but the fear is still there. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I make things worse by trying to talk to him?”

Spiderman leans against the wall next to you, his posture relaxed. “Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But you know him. I’m sure you’ve been through rough patches before and you worked through them. You just need to give him the chance to explain himself. I think that’s all he needs—someone to really talk to. And if you don’t do it, you’ll always be wondering what could’ve happened.”

You chew on your lip, his words hanging in the air between you. There’s a weight to them, something that feels... true. Something that makes you want to listen to him, to take his advice. But still, there’s a stubborn part of you that wants to push it all aside. “I just... don’t want to get hurt. Again.”

Spiderman straightens up, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You won’t. Not if you’re honest. Trust me.”

You glance up at him, your gaze softening as you look into the mysterious eyes behind his mask. He sounds so sure of himself.

“Thanks,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll think about it.”

He nods once, giving you an almost encouraging smile beneath the mask. “I know you will.”

You both fall silent as you continue walking, but the weight in your chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. Maybe, just maybe, Spiderman is right. Maybe you do need to talk to Mark.

Maybe it won’t be as scary as you think.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

A few days after your conversation with Spiderman, things between you and Mark seem to settle down a bit. He’s still a little distant at times, but when he’s around, you notice he’s more present, his smiles more genuine, his conversations less distracted. It’s not the same as before—things can’t just magically go back to normal—but there’s something warmer there, something more honest.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting at your favorite spot in the courtyard, you catch him coming toward you, looking a little tired but still smiling like he’s actually glad to see you. You can’t help but feel a pang of relief. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of these simple, casual hangouts, and you’ve missed it more than you care to admit.

He sits beside you, just like old times, and you both start talking like you haven’t missed a beat. But the conversation isn’t just surface-level anymore. He seems more open, more real.

After a while, you can’t hold back anymore. The thought has been gnawing at the back of your mind for days, and it’s finally time to ask.

You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, though your heart is thumping in your chest. "Hey, Mark. Can I ask you something?"

He glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly, but he’s still listening. “Of course. What’s up?”

You take a deep breath, trying not to come off too confrontational. "Why did you ghost me before? I mean, I know you were busy, but... you weren’t even texting me back. I didn’t want to push, but it felt like you were avoiding me."

His expression hardens for just a moment, like he's bracing himself. He looks away for a second, running a hand through his hair. "I was... going through something. Something personal."

You wait, your heart rate picking up. The words hang between you two, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t.

You want to press him, ask for more details, but you don’t. There’s something about the way he said it—quiet, almost hesitant—that makes you feel like he’s not ready to share. You nod, leaning back against the bench. “Okay... But you know, you can always talk to me, right?”

Mark hesitates, eyes flicking back to you, a mix of gratitude and something else passing through his gaze. "I know," he says, his voice soft but firm. "But right now, I really can’t. I wish I could, but..." He lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. "It’s complicated, and I don’t want to drag you into it."

You feel the weight of his words, something about them striking you deeper than you expected. There’s an intensity there, a desperation almost, that you weren’t prepared for. You stare at him for a moment, your gaze softening as you consider his words.

"I trust you, Mark," you say quietly. "And I know you’re not lying to me. So... if you can’t tell me yet, it’s okay. Just know that I’m here, whenever you’re ready."

There’s a long pause as he looks at you, like he’s trying to read the sincerity in your eyes. Finally, he looks away, nodding slowly.

"Thanks. That... means a lot to me." His voice cracks a little, and you can tell how much he appreciates your understanding. "I really am sorry for pulling away, though. I never wanted to hurt you."

You smile softly, feeling the tension between you two finally start to ease. "I know you didn’t. But I’m here, okay? Just like you said—whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere."

He gives a small, grateful smile, his eyes warmer than they’ve been in a while. "Thanks... I really mean it."

From that moment on, things slowly start to return to a sense of normalcy. Mark isn’t completely open with you yet—whatever is going on with him still seems like something he’s not ready to share—but there’s a shift. There’s no more distance. He’s trying, and you’re trying, and that’s enough for now.

And as you walk to class together the next day, you feel a little lighter. Maybe things aren’t perfect, and maybe they never will be, but you’re still here for each other. And somehow, that’s all you need for now.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Things have started to settle into a new rhythm, one that’s almost comfortable. You and Mark are hanging out again, like before, laughing and joking and just enjoying each other’s company. But now, there's something different in the air—something lighter, maybe even flirtatious. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He'll tease you, throw out little compliments that make your heart race, and you’ve noticed the way he looks at you when you’re talking, his eyes softer than usual.

You can’t deny it—you’re starting to feel the spark again, that chemistry you thought you had maybe lost when things got weird. But you're also talking to Spiderman regularly now, and every time you do, you feel like you’re walking this tightrope between two worlds—one where everything feels so right with Mark, and one where he is a complete mystery. You don’t even realize it yet, but you're starting to fall for both of them in very different ways.

You hadn’t expected to run into him tonight, but here he is, perched on the fire escape across the street, casually leaning against the rail. It’s become a weird sort of routine lately—your nightly walks where you’d end up talking to Spiderman. It’s comforting in its own way, even if you still don’t know who’s behind the mask.

You slow your pace and look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re stalking me now?”

Spiderman chuckles, the sound muffled by the mask but still warm enough to make your chest flutter. “If I’m stalking you, then you’re stalking me, too,” he teases, swinging down lightly to land in front of you. “What’s up tonight?”

You shrug, adjusting the straps of your bag over your shoulder. “Not much. Just out to clear my head.”

The city feels quieter at night. The hum of the busy streets seems far away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you standing there in the stillness. You’ve gotten used to his company in the past couple of weeks, and there’s a sense of comfort in the anonymity between you. A part of you almost wishes you could talk to him more. After everything with Mark, it’s nice to have someone to listen, someone who isn’t involved in the mess.

He notices the shift in your demeanor, and you can tell by the tilt of his head that he’s waiting for you to speak.

You let out a deep breath, gathering your courage. You hadn’t planned on telling him this, but somehow it just comes out. “I think I’m in love with Mark,” you say, voice quieter than usual, almost scared to even say it out loud.

His posture stiffens for a second, though you can’t see his expression under the mask. “Mark?” he repeats, sounding genuinely surprised. “Like, your best friend Mark?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. I mean... I don’t know. It’s confusing. We’ve been friends forever, and now it’s like I can’t get him out of my head. Lately, he’s been like flirting, I think?”

“Flirting?” he asks, his tone curious, almost teasing. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing nervously. “I don’t know, he’s just been way nicer lately? Texting me more, teasing me... It’s like he’s trying to get closer to me or something.”

You glance around, unsure of how to continue, suddenly feeling a little silly talking about your boy problems to Spiderman. You rub the back of your neck and look away, trying to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know if I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m just reading into things. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long. He’s always been nice to me, but now it’s... different. It’s making me crazy. I don’t know what to think.”

Spiderman watches you quietly, his posture still, though there’s something in the way he holds himself that makes you feel like he’s really paying attention. “You deserve an answer,” he says after a pause, his voice low but certain. “You deserve to know how he feels, one way or the other.”

You look up at him, surprised by his words. “You think so?”

He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. You can’t keep guessing forever. I mean, I’m not saying it’s easy to talk about feelings, but it’s the only way to know for sure.”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly. You want to believe him, you want to believe that talking to Mark is the right thing to do, but the idea of being rejected still stings. “Yeah... I guess you're right. I’ve been avoiding talking to him about it. I’m scared of what might happen if I do.”

Spiderman steps closer, his voice soft and reassuring. “If he’s your friend, he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t... then at least you’ll know where you stand.”

You sigh deeply, feeling the weight of his words. He’s right, of course. You’ve been avoiding the conversation with Mark because you’re afraid of what might happen, but maybe it’s time to face it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a little lighter. “I’m not sure I’d have the courage to do it if you hadn’t said something.”

“No problem,” he replies, a teasing note in his voice. “I mean, I’m just a friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Helping people is kind of my thing.”

You laugh a little, but it’s a mix of relief and gratitude. “You’re way too nice to be a superhero.”

He shrugs, though you can’t see it through the mask. “I do what I can. But seriously, take my advice. Talk to him. He’s probably just as confused as you are.”

You smile, feeling a little more confident now. “I will. I promise.”

Spiderman gives you a nod of approval before his posture shifts, signaling that it’s time to go. “Alright. Go get some sleep. You’ve got this.”

You watch as he swings up to the rooftops, disappearing into the night, and for the first time in a while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—you can start figuring things out with Mark.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You don’t even see it coming.

One moment, you’re walking back from the corner store with a bag of snacks, minding your own business. The next, someone grabs you, and your heart leaps into your throat. A rough voice snarls in your ear, “Where’s your friend Spiderman?”

Panic overtakes you, and all you can manage is a confused stammer. You’re shoved into the back of a van, heart racing as you piece together what’s happening. Someone must’ve seen you with him that night, or maybe they’ve been watching for longer than you realized.

Your captors don’t wait long to make their demands clear. “You tell him to show up, or things get messy,” one says, holding up your phone. They want you to call him. The problem is, you have no idea how.

You stutter, trying to explain that you literally don’t have his phone number.

“Don’t play dumb,” the second man snaps, holding up your phone. “We’ve seen him with you. Call him.”

“I can’t—”

Your words are cut off as the van jerks to a halt. The two men exchange alarmed glances, and then you hear it: a thud on the roof.

“What the hell was that?” one mutters, pulling out a weapon.

The next sound is unmistakable—the sharp thwip of a web. The van rocks violently as the door is ripped clean off, light flooding the cramped space.

And there he is.

Spiderman is a blur of red and blue, launching himself into the van with an acrobatic flip. He webs the first man’s weapon before the guy can react, yanking it away and tossing it aside. The second man lunges at him with a crowbar, but Spiderman ducks, the crowbar smashing into the wall behind him with a deafening clang.

“Stay down,” Spiderman warns, his voice firm but calm.

The first guy doesn’t listen. He charges at Spiderman, only to get a web shot to the face. Spiderman kicks him backward, sending him sprawling onto the van’s floor.

“Are you okay?” Spiderman asks, glancing at you briefly.

You nod, too stunned to speak.

The second guy doesn’t go down as easily. He’s bigger, meaner, and surprisingly agile. He swings the crowbar again, catching Spiderman in the side. The sickening sound of metal against his ribs makes your stomach turn.

Spiderman grunts in pain, stumbling but recovering quickly. He blocks the next swing with his forearm, webbing the crowbar and yanking it from the man’s grasp. “You really don’t learn, do you?” he quips, his voice strained.

Before he can finish, the first guy is back on his feet, armed with a knife. He slashes at Spiderman, who dodges narrowly but takes a glancing cut to his arm.

“Two against one,” Spiderman mutters, “that’s not very fair.”

He shoots a web at the knife, disarming the man, then uses a second web to yank him forward. Spiderman spins, using the man’s momentum against him, and sends him crashing into the wall of the van.

The second guy charges, tackling Spiderman to the ground. They grapple, fists flying, and you can see Spiderman slowing down, his movements less precise. Blood stains his suit where the knife grazed him, and he’s holding his side—likely from the earlier hit.

Your breath catches as the second guy pins him, but Spiderman surprises you, using his legs to flip the man over his head. He’s back on his feet in an instant, delivering a punch that knocks the guy out cold.

Spiderman turns to you, his breathing heavy, his posture slouched. “You’re safe now,” he says, but his voice wavers.

“Safe? You’re bleeding!” you exclaim, rushing to his side.

“It’s fine,” he says, trying to wave you off, but his movements are sluggish, and he’s gripping his ribs tightly.

“It’s not fine,” you argue, your voice rising. “You’re hurt. You need help. Come on, let’s go to my place.”

He hesitates, but when he stumbles slightly, he lets you guide him out of the van.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You practically drag Spiderman up the fire escape to your bedroom. He’s limping, trying to downplay the extent of his injuries, but you can see the pain etched into his body language—even through the mask.

“Sit,” you order the moment you’re inside, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates, scanning the windows and doors like he’s expecting someone to burst in.

“Relax,” you add. “Nobody followed us.”

With a reluctant nod, he sinks into the couch, groaning softly. You rush to grab your first-aid kit, returning to find him still gripping his side, his masked head tilted back against the cushions.

“Alright,” you say, kneeling beside him. “I need to check your injuries. You’re gonna have to take off the mask.”

He tenses immediately, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Spiderman,” you say firmly, “you can’t breathe properly. I need to check if you’re okay. I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”

“No,” he says again, his voice edged with frustration. “I can’t. It’s... complicated.”

You sit back on your heels, crossing your arms. “Complicated? You just saved my life, and now I’m trying to save yours. What’s complicated about that?”

He looks at you for a long moment, the lenses of his mask narrowing slightly. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”

You huff, annoyed. “Fine. At least let me patch up what I can see.”

He allows you to clean the cut on his arm, wincing slightly as you dab antiseptic on it. You notice how quiet he’s gotten, his usual witty banter replaced by a tense silence.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

“I do,” he replies immediately, his tone clipped.

The words hit harder than you expect. You lean back, giving him space, and he stands, wobbling slightly.

“Thanks for the help,” he says, moving toward the window.

“Wait—”

“I’ll be fine,” he cuts you off, stepping onto the ledge. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

And then he’s gone, leaving you staring at the empty space where he’d been, your chest tight with frustration and worry.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

It’s been days since you last saw Spiderman. Days of walking home late at night and feeling the eerie absence of the one person who always made you feel safe. You tell yourself it’s fine. That he’s busy saving the city or maybe just giving you space. But deep down, you feel the sting of being shut out.

Mark’s been acting strange too. Not like before, when he outright ignored you, but there’s something guarded about him again—like he’s keeping secrets. You don’t know how much more of this you can take.

One evening, as you’re walking home, the silence feels unbearable. The air feels colder, heavier, without the usual sense of someone watching your back. By the time you reach your apartment, your chest feels tight with frustration. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent conversations.

Nothing from Spiderman.

Mark’s last text was a brief, “Can’t hang tonight, sorry.”

You shove your phone in your pocket and head straight to Mark’s apartment

When Mark opens the door, he looks surprised—and maybe a little nervous—to see you.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, trying for casual, but there’s a stiffness in his tone.

“Are you avoiding me again?” you blurt out, crossing your arms.

He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No. Why would I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Mark,” you cut him off. “You’ve been weird. You’re barely texting back, and when you do, it’s like you’re walking on eggshells. What’s going on with you?”

He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I’m just... dealing with stuff, okay? It’s nothing to do with you.”

You step closer, lowering your voice. “You told me to trust you. To believe that you care about me. And I do, Mark. But it feels like you’re shutting me out again, and I can’t take that.”

He lets out a long sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple!” you exclaim. “You’re my best friend, Mark. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something big. But then he stops himself, his jaw tightening.

“I can’t,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stare at him, heart sinking. “Why not?”

“Because if you knew...” He pauses, swallowing hard. “It would change everything. And I can’t risk that.”

Your mind races, frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize how hard it is for me to feel like I can’t talk to anyone? To feel like I’m losing you and—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll stop asking.”

“Y/N...”

“No,” you say firmly, stepping back. “When you’re ready to actually be honest with me, let me know.”

Before he can respond, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing in the doorway, his expression conflicted.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Mark can’t stop replaying the look on your face as you walked away. The hurt in your voice, the weight of your words—it gnaws at him. For the first time in his life, he’s truly afraid he might lose you.

He paces his room, running a hand through his hair. Every excuse he’s made to keep his identity a secret feels hollow now. You deserve the truth. And if it costs him everything? At least you’ll know how much you mean to him.

Grabbing a small bouquet of flowers—ones he spotted on the way home earlier—he suits up and swings toward your apartment. The city rushes by beneath him, but for once, he doesn’t revel in the thrill of it. His heart pounds in his chest as he lands on your fire escape, crouching just outside your bedroom window.

With a deep breath, he knocks.

You look up, confused at first, but then your heart skips a beat when you see the familiar figure crouched on the fire escape. Spiderman.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should even let him in after how things ended the last time. But then you sigh, walking over and unlocking the window.

“What are you doing here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms as he steps inside.

He straightens, holding out the small bouquet of slightly squished flowers. “I, uh... I messed up,” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “And I needed to make it right.”

You glance at the flowers, then back at him, skeptical. “You think flowers are gonna fix everything?”

“No,” he admits quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all. But I’m here because... I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “You’re finally ready to take off the mask?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, stepping closer. “But only if you promise not to freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” you mutter, but your curiosity is piqued.

“Just—close your eyes,” he says, a nervous edge to his voice.

You hesitate for a second but do as he asks. You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the sound of him taking off his mask. Then, gently, he takes your hands in his and places them on his face. His skin is warm under your fingertips, and you can feel the slight tremor of his nerves.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Open your eyes.”

You do—and your breath catches in your throat.

“Mark?”

He winces, giving you a sheepish smile. “Surprise?”

Your hands fall from his face as you take a step back, staring at him in utter disbelief. “What the actual hell?! Mark, you’re Spiderman?!”

“Yeah...” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you, I really did. But I couldn’t. Not until now.”

You blink at him, processing. Suddenly, all the weird behavior, the ditching, the injuries—it all makes sense. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” you say, your voice shaking slightly.

“I wasn’t lying,” he says quickly. “I was just... protecting you. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but then you stop, taking a deep breath. “Why now, then? Why tell me now?”

“Because I couldn’t lose you,” he says, his voice raw with sincerity. “I know I’ve messed up a lot, and I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for that. But you’re the most important person in my life, and if being honest is the only way to fix this, then... here I am. No more secrets.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his words. You take a step closer, searching his face. “You’re an idiot,” you say quietly.

He nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”

“But I guess... I can forgive you,” you add, your voice softening. “Eventually.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, and he lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

There’s a pause, the air between you heavy with unspoken feelings.

“So...” you say, tilting your head. “What now?”

“Well,” he says, his smile growing, “I was kinda hoping we could start over. But, like, as more than friends this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now too. “I guess saving me from a mugger earns you some points.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, the truth in his eyes making your knees feel weak.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Before either of you can overthink it, you close the distance between you, pulling him into a kiss that feels like it’s been years in the making. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and for once, everything feels right.

Maybe for once Spiderman can have a happy ending.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

author's note 𝟅𝟈 this was a bitch to finish i'm ngl but i think i'm pretty happy with how it turned out so yay! i love spiderman sm so yk i love spidermark too. anyways leave suggestions for fics in the comments or my inbox pls.

masterlist.

[bvidzsoo]

Cold Red Iron

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

⎊ Warning: suggestive speech and content, cursing, violence, weapons, stabbing, blood, hostage situation, mentions of domestic violence (not against MC) ⎊ Word count: 27.6k ⎊ Rating: mature, nsfw ⎊ Genre: Iron Man!AU, humour, Marvel references, superheroes!au, workplace!au, they can't stand each other but end up working together!au ⎊ Summary: Each day you wake up wondering what you did in a previous life to deserve your prick of a boss, who is also a womanizer and owns a company that made him a millionaire. But the job pays well, and there's Mrs. Bae too, so you suck it up. But one unfortunate event at the metro station seems to change your life for the better (?).

A/N: I actually thought I could make this oneshot 15~18k, who's the clown here now? Hii, hello, welcome back my lovelies to a completely random and uncalled for Marvel oneshot that is humorous (I hope so) but also deals with serious topics. For the sake of the story, Mingi is aged up and is closer to his thirties and our MC is around 25-ish, though unspecified, and Mrs. Bae, who is Irene/Bae Joohyun, is aged up a lot lmao, so yes, Yunho is younger than everyone ~oops. I think this is all I wanted to say, sorry for mistakes 'cuz some always somehow slip through, and if I missed tagging any warning lmk. I appreciate your feedback lots, so let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ^^ divider

🕸️(you can find my Spiderman!Yunho oneshot here)

            S. Industries, the name of the tallest building in our city is owned by possibly one of the city’s most affluent men. From engineering and producing weapons that are shipped out to other countries with masses, to fabricating gadgets and small electronic devices that have Mr. Song’s artificial intelligent assistant implemented in them, to joining a collaboration with Mercedes-Benz to produce a prototype never heard of before, S. Industries seemed to do a little bit of everything. Engineers of the best calibre fought to get a spot in the team and those fired often found themselves lost and devastated by their predicament. Smart and important people worked here, people who had a vision and had set their minds on changing the world. Mr. Song, the embarrassingly rich owner of the enterprise, seemed to have flamboyant and insane ideas often, yet, they somehow always managed to work out in his favour. There was rarely a day where Mr. Song wasn’t on the news or TV, smirking and winking at the cameras as he flirted with the reporters into oblivion—these were the good scenarios because there were days when instead of appearing for his good deeds and world-changing innovations, he appeared in scandalous hypostasizes that had to be fixed by none other than me.

He was exactly the man you’d imagine a young and super-rich CEO would be like. He drank and partied as long as the night lasted, and when dusk came, he’d bring ladies into his bed to satisfy his insatiable needs. No woman lasted long by his side, perhaps because his personality was truly dislikeable or perhaps because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for too long. There had been multiple occasions when security had to escort his screaming exes out while Mr. Song hid away in his office with his tail between his legs and the excuse that he was too busy working, meanwhile, he was busy whining and nursing his hangover. But he also liked to act like he was the bigger and better person in the room, often with his eyebrows furrowed and with disgust on his features as he looked at you above his narrow glasses and judged whatever came out of your mouth. I couldn’t fully understand the women that surrounded me and their desperation to be noticed by the CEO. Despite his very obvious good looks, I always thought his bad personality ruined even the thought of finding him attractive in the true sense of the word—meaning inside out. Sure, for a one-night-stand, the man was probably a perfect partner, but even then, I wouldn’t have wanted to be another body count added to his long and never-ending list so that he can gloat about it to his buddies while they have a beer—or wine, whatever thing these fancy people drink on a night out if they even do those. 

And Mr. Song was shameless, he very obviously did not care about the working environment and neither about the fact that there was a power imbalance each time he decided to sleep with one of his employees. I yet had to see the day when it didn’t end up with his temporary partner fired as Mr. Song claimed that he was uncomfortable by their overbearing presence, irritated by the constant attention he got from said employee—or victim, as I liked to call them. The longest an employee he hooked up with managed to continue staying at the firm was two weeks and that one ended on a pretty bad note—she now has a restricting order on her hands, Mr Song doesn’t play around despite his often easy-going façade. I wasn’t one to be quick to judge, but I was thoroughly bothered and disgusted by the lack of care Mr. Song seemingly had towards his female employees, the nonchalance with which he dismissed others never ceased to make my blood boil.

And if it wasn’t enough that he was a womanizer, he was also a jerk to his employees when he so happened to ‘not be in the mood’, which translated to him getting up on the wrong side of the bed and so he had the right to be pissy and offensive to everyone around himself, including his so very sweet secretary that I swore to protect with my whole being. Mrs. Bae was an elderly lady who was in excellent shape and an absolute professional in everything she did, she was so eager to teach me everything I needed to know about administrative work as when I had joined S. Industries, I was still fresh out of college with barely any experience. Mrs. Bae was also very loyal to Mr. Song, for some reason, and she was diligent in her work and spent way too much time at the office, fixing Mr. Song’s messes that shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. But if there was anyone in this goddamn office that had even a little bit of control over Mr. Song, then it sure as hell was Mrs. Bae as she’d often storm inside his office without knocking—disregarding the fact that her boss might be in the midst of unloading his stress, if you know what I mean—and she’d absolutely put him in his place, scrutinizing him as a disappointed mother would with her disobeying child.

But still, that was just Mrs Bae, others weren’t so lucky. If Mr. Song decided he didn’t like you, you were dead meat, nobody would want to associate themselves with you, and oftentimes those employees would resign on their own, aware that the entirety of S. Industries had just rejected them. And this wasn’t all, Mr. Song also spoke with little respect and consideration, eyes often narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he scowled and interrupted your speech, embarrassing you in front of your colleagues and unjustly dismissing your hard work. He would also laugh if you made a mistake or if your idea was catalogued as not good enough, sending most of his employees into an existential crisis whenever he did this. It was sad, truly, having to watch my colleagues crumble day by day. I, thankfully, had rarely come in direct contact with Mr. Song as I was a mere secretary assistant, but because Mrs. Bae was basically his right hand, I shared the same floor with her and our boss. That, however, meant that despite usually being overlooked by Mr. Song, I got to watch all of his shenanigans unfold, unable to do or say anything.

Working here has definitely taught me patience and Mrs. Bae advised me to just try and ignore Mr. Song unless I had to work with him directly, apparently, there was nothing he hated more than being ignored. He acted like a damn child that was desperate for attention and not like a man with a very serious burden on his hands, with one of the strongest industries in his hands, able to control the outcome of wars even if he so wished. I had yet to see the day Mr. Song acted like a decent human being, compassionate and understanding, kind and less of a prick.

So, knowing all that, you must understand my honest reaction to finding out that Mrs. Bae had fallen so ill that she had to be hospitalized, scaring half of the company to death when she sent us an e-mail. Of course, in true fashion to her, it was worded professionally and she asked us not to worry but to work even harder in her absence, and then she assigned all her subordinates what their respective assignments would be in her absence. When I had reached my name on the list and read that I was to replace her since I knew everything about management and Mr. Song’s schedule, I was pretty much devastated. There was no definite time of when Mrs. Bae would return and that meant that I could be working as her replacement for a day, maybe a week, or even three years. I knew I would barely last one day by Mr. Song’s side, let alone three years. And, because this devastating news called for a cold jug of beer to drown my sorrows in, my poor best friend had been the one to suffer through a drunken night of me going off about my boss, calling him names and describing atrocious ways of how I would bring his demise forth if it were only legal.

But Sooyoung was a good friend, she’s been with me since fifth grade, and she sat through the night and giggled whenever I hiccupped or started speaking too loudly, to the point I had people turning our way as I cursed Mr. Song’s name. She was an angel and a sweetheart as she carried my heavy body home that night, giggling and snapping pictures when I told her I felt like throwing up and that I needed a breather. She called her boyfriend when she realized I wasn’t able to walk anymore, my high heels long abandoned and in my hands as the freezing ground was none of my concerns at that moment as my eyes bore into a billboard that had Mr. Song’s sharp face and sexy smirk displayed.

“You’re the devil!” I was sure my voice was loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood as I stumbled to my feet, pointing a finger at the billboard as Sooyoung spoke on the phone, “I’m going to get you, Song Mingi!”

I huffed and glared at the man’s small and narrowed eyes, shivering when a cold breeze blew past us, “Don’t smirk at me, fucker.”

There was a loud giggle behind me and then the slam of a door and I heard my best friend pocket her phone as two sets of footsteps neared me, “You see that monstrosity? He picks his nose when he thinks nobody is watching, the fucker forgets to turn on the blurring effect to his windows, and I get to see him lazing around his office the whole day, meanwhile, I have to delete articles and call up journalists and beg them not to publish their next issue about how Song Mingi fucked four women and gave them chlamydia or whatever.”

I was sure my words came out jumbled and less clear than they sounded in my head, and I flinched when high-pitched laughter made my ears ring, way higher than Sooyoung’s had ever been. With my head spinning and bile rising in my throat, I swung around and narrowed my eyes at my best friend’s boyfriend. He laughed a lot, loudly mostly, and if I found it cute sober, I absolutely loathed it while drunk, “Shut up, fucker!”

“Or you’ll beat me up like you’ll beat up our boss?” He teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes and I snorted, pulling my shoulders back as I banged on my chest.

“I sure will!” I called loudly and the guy just started giggling again, meanwhile, Sooyoung just shook her head with an amused expression on her face.

“Let’s get her inside the car, Wooyoung, I don’t want her to catch a cold.”

“Why is she even so drunk?”

“Mrs. Bae is really sick and Y/N is to replace her.”

“Oh, so she’ll be finally working with Mr. Song directly?”

“Exactly.”

I groaned and bared my teeth at nothing in particular as Wooyoung and Sooyoung came up on both sides of me to hold me up and walk me towards Wooyoung’s running car, that fucker, he was an engineer at S. Industries and he was rich enough to afford himself a really nice car. A Mercedes-Benz, to be exact, thanks to the collaboration the two companies had going on. For once, I hoped Mr. Song’s project went terribly and I’d have to answer the calls with a smile on my face and then feign mock disappointment when I’d relay the message to Mr. Song. Surely the failure of one project wouldn’t bring the downfall of S. Industries.

“Well, Y/N, at least there’ll be a raise in the paycheck this month.” A particularly hard slap to my back had the bile in my throat rising until it wasn’t inside my mouth anymore at all, but on the sidewalk instead, as Wooyoung shrieked and Sooyoung just sighed, holding my hair back for me as I doubled over and violently emptied the contents of my stomach.

That whole ordeal was three days ago, on a Friday evening, when Mrs. Bae delivered the devastating news. Now, it was Monday and my muscles were tense and my teeth were gritting as I exited the metro and took the escalator, feet already aching from the blisters my other heels left on them. I seriously wanted to die, but Wooyoung was right for once in his life, I would at least get a raise for filling in for Mrs. Bae, but at what cost? The only joy I could find in the horrible day I had ahead of me was my iced caramel macchiato in my hands and the fact that the metro was right next to the building I used to love working at up until three days ago. Higher paycheck or not, I found myself wondering whether it was worth it if I had to work directly with Mr. Song.

I plastered on a smile despite my sour mood as I entered the intimidatingly tall building and greeted the receptionists, who apparently knew of my predicament as they sported matching looks of pity. If there were other women who didn’t fall for Mr. Song’s charming persona, excluding Mrs. Bae who was too old to entertain such a young boy and was busy scolding him whenever she could, then in the receptionists I knew I could trust. One of them had a bad run-in with Mr. Song and ever since the two stayed far away from him, sharing my displeasure whenever I came down to have lunch with them. They were sisters and foreigners, yet their knowledge of the language oftentimes surpassed mine, never failing to take me off guard as I watched them with a grin on my lips. They were both in college and apparently, a really pricey one if they resorted to working at S. Industries.

I scanned my badge at the entrance gate and nodded at the security guard, Chanyeol, who looked more like a club bouncer than a security guard at a high-tech company, closely surveyed and littered with cameras in every nook and cranny. The elevator ride up to the top floor was rather lacklustre and filled with silence beside the generic music coming through the speakers, and I basked in the ignorance the engineers exerted towards me, nothing out of the ordinary. But when they got off on their floor, I found myself fidgeting as I still had ten more floors up, turning around to check myself out in the huge mirror. It wasn’t even my first day here, yet I felt jittery and questioned my choice of clothing despite it being what I usually wore. A black pencil skirt that stuck to my frame uncomfortably paired with a white off-shoulder blouse that was tucked inside, a dainty belt bringing the look together nicely. My black high-heels weren’t as uncomfortable as the ones I had worn on Friday—they were still new—and I couldn’t wait to sit down and step out of them. I have pulled my hair in a bun and strategically pulled out front pieces that I curled, framing my face if I didn’t want to look like an egg due to the oval shape of my face. My makeup was soft and natural looking except for the red lipstick, and I found myself playing with the small cross pendant around my neck, waiting for the elevator doors to open as I reached the top floor.

The hall, my little office, Mr. Song’s huge office, and the small kitchen were all dark, signalling that I was the first one to arrive at work. Of course, that was no surprise as there were days when Mr. Song would come in just a few hours before it was time to go home for his employees, and then he’d usually find something faulty with everything, thus forcing everyone to stay after hours. I hoped today wasn’t a day like that because I was sure I’d end up fired by the evening, something I couldn’t afford as I had just moved to my new apartment and the rent was rather high, but the area was good and it was a lot closer to my job, so I couldn’t complain. I switched on the lights as I walked towards Mrs. Bae’s desk, now mine until she returned, and I hung my coat on the hanger, placing my purse on the floor just next to it. I powered on the desk computer and headed for the kitchen to prepare coffee for Mr. Song. I had decided to take this burden off Mrs. Bae’s shoulders back when I had joined the company, so I knew his preference by heart, unfortunately.

I watched the coffee machine with unfocused eyes as I ran through in my mind the schedule I had closely studied yesterday. Mr. Song had a meeting before lunch with the engineers about the prototype they were developing, which could take quite a few hours if he was in a pissy mood, and after lunch he had another meeting with the company they were collaborating with, and since that was out of our hands I couldn’t estimate the length of the meeting. Before his first meeting, however, I had to print the monthly expenses and bring them to him, and sometime along the day—preferably before lunch, was what Mrs. Bae’s note had said—I had to fix a date and time with a local magazine for an editorial shoot they had been discussing with my boss for months now. The thought made me roll my eyes and I switched the coffee machine off, grabbing the oat milk out of the fridge and brown sugar from the cupboard. The coffee was just a little above half of the cup and I filled it up with the milk, putting in five teaspoonfuls of sugar. I wondered whether Mr. Song would realize I had mixed up his milk on purpose while making his coffee—since he’s lactose intolerant—if I ever got the courage to sabotage my boss even if it was silly. But today wasn’t that day and I grabbed a tray and placed five cookies on a small plate before I placed both his coffee and the cookies on the tray. I would take them to his office and then print whatever he needed. If maybe I sneaked inside his office before he came in, then maybe I didn’t have to face him often as Mrs. Bae would communicate with him through the phone despite them being just a few steps away from each other, I intended on doing that too.

But my steps halted as I returned to the lobby, eyebrows furrowing as the glass to Mr. Song’s office was blurred and light poured outside from underneath the closed door. Oh, had he come in early? My eyebrows furrowed as I wondered whether I was hallucinating, had I been so lost in thought I didn’t hear the elevator, his footsteps, and the closing of the door? I could space out annoyingly well, so maybe that really was the case. I sighed and walked towards my desk, needing a second to gather my courage and steel my nerves as my eyes fell on the unlocked computer. So, Mr. Song not only came in earlier but he also unlocked Mrs. Bae’s computer before heading inside his office. That was rather confusing, and just when I had started wondering whether someone had broken in on our floor, I heard his unmistakable raspy and deep voice coming through the glass that separated us. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was Song Mingi, no doubt. Glancing at the door and then down at the computer, I decided that I didn’t want to enter his office twice today if it really wasn’t necessary so, I quickly printed the monthly expenses and bound them together after placing them in order. The numbers were so high that I struggled to read them correctly, but it wasn’t surprising, the company was huge and what they expertise in was even bigger.

I grabbed the papers and the tray into my hands, mindful of my steps as I headed for Mr. Song’s office door, taking a deep breath as I paused in front of it. He was still talking, probably on the phone, and I decided it was best I slipped in and out while he was distracted, so I knocked and went inside without waiting for his answer.

“Yes, I know.” His voice was harsh and tinged with annoyance as I veered my way around his office like an expert, having been inside too often. Who do you think cleaned up his mess and dusted off his shelves? Exactly, me because I couldn’t handle watching Mrs. Bae ruin her already aching back and knees, “Honestly? I don’t fucking care. I told you I couldn’t design it and produce it in a month, so is it really my fault that your superiors are blaming you now?”

I was curious what this was about, but I knew my place and not to snoop around, so I just headed for his desk hopeful that Mr. Song wouldn’t notice me as his chair was swivelled around to face the huge windows overlooking the bustling morning city, mist having settled in the distance where it was closer to the mountains. The view was beautiful from here and I often found myself gazing out the windows when I had to be inside Mr. Song’s office, wondering if I’d ever earn enough to live in a penthouse, it was wishful thinking but at least it made me more determined to work harder.

“Then deal with it.” Mr. Song snapped as I placed the tray on the desk, in its usual spot, and my eyes fell on the back of his head as he scoffed loudly, his fingers drumming against the armrest of the leather chair he sat in. He was so tall that even his massive chair couldn’t hide his form and my eyes stuck to his broad shoulders outlined by the shoulder pads of his black jacket before I snapped out of it and moved as quietly as possible to place the documents I had printed in the middle of the desk, “I’m not taking the blame for your incompetence, idiot, call me when you have a real reason to speak with me.”

Just as I had straightened up and took a step back, Mr. Song hung up and groaned as he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut as he groaned, “What a fucking idiot, he can’t even design his own gadget and then I’m at fault for prioritising real projects.”

Well, I was sure I wasn’t meant to hear his whining and inner monologue said out loud, so I took a tentative step backwards, praying he’d remain with his eyes closed and with his back turned so that I could slip out of his office before he’d even realize I was in there. For a man who regarded himself so highly, he lacked the skill of being aware of his surroundings at all times, something I didn’t mind for once. But my hopes were soon crushed as I stepped on something that made noise, eyes widening as I froze, watching as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, “Ah, Joohyun, morning. Can you please call up—”

Of course, he’d call Mrs. Bae by her name without any regard to her age and accomplishments, I wasn’t even surprised he failed to respect the only person who remained stuck to his side in this company, vouching for him when nobody else did as few people liked the CEO. But his eyes opened and his words stuck in his throat as we made contact, albeit a little silly as his head had fallen off the headrest and he was looking at me cross-eyed. The speed with which he swivelled the chair around and fixed his posture should have been comical, but I knew what was coming and so I didn’t enjoy it. The slight worry and annoyance were gone from his face in the blink of an eye, replaced with a chilling arrogance and a self-assured smirk as his eyes very shamelessly ran all over my body, checking me out. I clenched my jaw and fixed my posture as well, plastering on the corporate smile that I wished conveyed the message of ‘fuck yourself, Song Mingi’, but it apparently didn’t as he intertwined his fingers and placed his elbows on the table to lean forward, tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“My, my, if only Joohyun looked anything like you, I’d come in early every morning.” His smirk only spread wider, eyes shining with a newfound resolve as he waited eagerly for a reaction, for anything. But it didn’t come as I remained impassive, eyes boring into his with nonchalance and coldness as I burned away on the inside, screaming and cursing at him in my mind. How dare he disrespect the lovely Mrs. Bae and disregard all her sacrifices made for his ungrateful ass just because I was young and relatively alright looking?!

“Mrs. Bae is sick and until she returns I will be replacing her, but I suppose you’ve been informed of the changes, sir.” I tried to keep my voice levelled so that I wouldn’t snap at him, but it was a little hard as he bit his bottom lip when I addressed him as ‘sir’. I didn’t want to think about it for even a second and I suppressed a sigh as he leaned back in his chair, legs spreading wide as he let his eyes run over my body again. Fucker, I hope he swallows his coffee wrong, maybe I should prepare his coffee with regular milk from now on, “The monthly expenses and payments that still have to be made are on the desk, sir, I have printed them as Mrs. Bae does.”

He glanced at the bound paperwork for a second before his lips pursed, eyes falling back on me. There was a slight change to his features, the quick glimmer of curiosity as he regarded me with inquiring eyes, but it was gone again as he rubbed his plump bottom lip with his forefinger, his hands littered with rings that were huge and somehow looked classy on him instead of making him look like a wannabe punk. For a CEO, he certainly wasn’t afraid to dress however he wanted while still being mindful that he was at his workplace. Sometimes he wore suits that highlighted his body and muscles in the right way, turning heads and having me throw him a second glance as he waltzed inside his office, and sometimes he wore outfits that you only saw on the runway, like today. His attire was all-black, non-conferring to society’s gender norms and unique in its way. He wore a blouse that seemed to fall a little lower on one shoulder, tucked inside pants that reached the floor with a skirt over them that reached just below his knees, his jacket cropped and with shoulder padding. The silver chains around his neck only added to the outfit and I couldn’t deny that he was quite the sight to look at with his black hair pushed back, and his undercut fresh. It made him look sharper, it defined his high cheekbones, and with his hair pushed back like that his eyes only became sharper and more intimidating.

“Trying to leave an impression on me already, huh?” His chuckle was mocking and laced with an undertone that almost had me marching up to him and punching the shit out of him, “It’ll take a few months before I can say whether you’re qualified for this job, sugar, newbies are great but they always fuck up, no offence.”

“None taken,” I grinned, trying to contain my rage and pride to lengthen my stay at the company, “I’ve been working here for four years, Mr. Song.”

He blinked once, then gulped, and then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took me in again, but finally not with lustful eyes but plain confusion as he probably tried to recall a time he’d seen me before. Instead of being offended that my own boss, the man I shared a floor with and crossed paths with in the hallway more than once, didn’t recognize me, I felt accomplished that I managed to dodge him for a complete four years. We’ve ridden the elevator together not once, but I huddled in the corner and always waited for him to get off first in order to stay out of his sight, I just couldn’t stand the man and it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.

“Ah, perhaps if I hear your name…” He trailed off and then eyed his coffee, eyebrows twitching as his eyes lingered on them, hand reaching for a cookie reluctantly.

“Five teaspoonfuls of sugar and a quarter of oat milk, just the way you like it.” It actually felt freaking awesome seeing the confused and slightly taken aback expression on Mr. Song’s face, who knew I’d enjoy being in his presence for once, “And I’m Miss Jang.”

“Jang…?” He asked quickly but I just remained smiling, not about to tell him my name. He could look it up very easily with a search in the database, either way, if he was curious enough.

“I’m the secretary assistant, so don’t worry, I know everything I need to know.” I ignored his question and took a step towards the door, signalling that I was out of his office in the next five seconds, “Let’s both pray Mrs. Bae returns fast, I quite enjoy shadowing her.” Instead of having to face you, but I didn’t add that to my short speech.

Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed as he took in my retreating form and for a split second, I noticed annoyance on his features, making me feel victorious in a way I never imagined I could, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. She’s too stubborn to remain sick for long, she’ll be back soon, but until then I expect nothing but excellence from you, I would hate to fire you if you’ve been working for me for four years. Anyways, when’s my first meeting?”

“At eleven, sir.” I checked the time, two more hours until then.

“Good, call Miss Kim and tell her I have something to discuss with her.” He paused to grab his cup of coffee and I refrained from rolling my eyes at his theatrics, “Tell her to come as fast as possible and that we’ll talk in my office.”

Or fuck, is what he meant but didn’t say. I hummed in order to swallow the scoff that threatened to leave my lips and bowed my head just slightly, in the way I knew it was enough to be respectful but still not that much. But Mr. Song wasn’t looking at me anymore so he wouldn’t see, he was too busy flipping through the paperwork as he sipped his coffee. I gripped the handle of the door but paused in the doorway, eyes falling on the unwrapped and empty package of a condom I had stepped on just minutes ago, “I’m not cleaning that up too, pick it you yourself, Mr. Song.”

And when his head snapped up with a scowl, eyes following the direction I was pointing at, he scoffed loudly and gave me a sharp glare. I smiled in a way that I knew couldn’t outwardly be catalogued as a ‘fuck you’ smile, but it also made sure to convey that I wasn’t dumb nor his rag that he could throw around and find amusement in. Then, without waiting to be dismissed, I slipped through the door and walked towards my desk, a smirk making its way on my lips as I graciously sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair, swivelling closer to the desk as I went to raise my hand and flip my boss off, but suddenly, the blur from the windows was gone and I went rigid, hand already midway raised. Mingi’s arm was outstretched as he held the controller, eyes glaring and fixed on me as I scoffed and returned his fierce glare, picking up the central telephone to dial Miss Kim and ask her to come to Mr. Song’s office.

I guess today would be exhausting in all the different ways I didn’t think possible before.

            And I was right, it was exhausting in a way that had both my blood boiling and making me feel resigned as I was finally able to shut the computer off, the sun about to set any minute now. I had to stay for longer than expected as Mrs. Bae had a lot of workload, and without having an assistant to help out, I had to do it all on my own. I couldn’t complain about that as long as Mrs. Bae was healthy and up on her feet in the following ways, I would fill in for her and work even nights because I respected her and loved her a lot. She was a motherly figure and a good guide for both office-related and life-related things. I couldn’t wait to see her and hear her voice, already missing her dad jokes and shrill laughter. But perhaps what I missed the most was that she was the only one who could put Mr. Song in his place, something he desperately needed.

The blurry effect stayed off the windows the whole day and I felt Mr. Song’s sharp eyes on me more often than not, it was slowly driving me up the wall. I knew what he was playing at, he didn’t like my attitude towards him and he was trying to find reasons to get rid of me. But he couldn’t because I was trained by Mrs. Bae and I was damn good at my job, there was a reason why I survived four years at the company without working as an engineer or down at the lobby—Mr. Song rarely meddled with the lobby girls, and perhaps that was the only smart thing he was capable of doing. But now I had him on my back the whole day, making me uncomfortable as I sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair rigidly and with an aching back by how strained it was, fingers spasming from how much I had been typing away on the keyboard, and a crazy itch to finally go home. At least he wasn’t a complete ass and told me to get lunch while he was in the meeting, even handing me his card which I, obviously, declined. He had a peculiar look in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher, and then Wooyoung was up on our floor to fetch Mr. Song with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“Ah, my favourite person in the whole wide world!” He had called loudly while Mr. Song was inside his office, door open, gathering paperwork, files, and the jacket he had discarded hours ago. My eyes narrowed at Wooyoung as I paused writing the email for the editorial photoshoot and leaned forward, raising my chin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be annoying your engineer friends?” I raised an eyebrow as Wooyoung’s grin only grew in size, “You seem to be lost, this isn’t your floor, Dr Jung.”

Wooyoung gave me a deadpanned look at the title I used as he leaned forward, resting his arms against the top part of the desk, “Don’t call me doctor at our workplace, dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy at our workplace.” I mocked Wooyoung and he glared at me before he stole a gummy bear out of the bowl placed there for our clients.

“Well, I see you’re doing just fine,” Wooyoung spoke while chewing, eyes running over the place, “The secretary role suits you; I should snap a picture for Sooyoung to see.”

“Don’t you dare.” I snapped and stood up to snatch the bowl of gummies when Wooyoung went to grab another one, “It’s for the clients, Wooyoung, and stop bothering Sooyoung while she’s at work. Besides, I already sent her a picture.”

“Of course you did.” He rolled his eyes and pouted as he swiftly leaned over the desk and managed to snatch a gummy still, making me gasp as my eyes widened, giving him a nasty look, “How’s working with your worst nightmare? Have you flipped him off already? Or have you cursed his name out in the bathroom? I bet you switched up his milk for a regular one like, you said you’d do—”

“Wooyoung, it’s nice seeing you on time for once.” Mr. Song’s sharp voice interrupted us, and I gave Wooyoung a warning look before I smoothed my skirt out and placed the bowl of gummies back in its place, “Although the blazer and your pants don’t match—”

“They do!” Wooyoung cut our boss off with a whine as Mr. Song came closer, “My fashion sense is better than yours.”

“You wish,” I muttered under my breath as I settled in the chair, thinking that it was quiet enough, but both men looked at me at the same time, making my eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Mr. Song’s impassive façade broke as he gave me a smirk, plump lips pursing as he let his eyes drop to my collarbones and explore my exposed shoulders due to my blouse. I fought back an eye roll and just sighed as I looked back at Wooyoung, “Tell Sooyoung when you see her that I might get off late, we’ll postpone our dinner for another day.”

“Yes!” Wooyoung fist bumped the air in glee and I fixed my glare on the side of his head as he eagerly took the files our boss was holding, “After Friday, I wouldn’t have survived another drunken dinner so soon. Imagine my poor ears having to listen to you whine about our—”

“Goodbye, Wooyoung.” I interrupted him with urgency, aware of the panic that coated my features as he snickered like the evil bastard he was, eyeing Song Mingi from the corner of his eyes as the man looked between us with curiosity written over his features. But then it was gone just as Wooyoung opened his mouth, Mr. Song was giving me a sharp look.

“Call Miss Kim and tell her there’s been a change to our plans, I’m busy tonight.” I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t his messenger, but as his secretary, I pretty much was. I nodded and pulled my chair closer to the desk, getting ready to finish the email when Mr. Song continued, “And get back to work.”

I bit my tongue to refrain from wishing him a lovely descent into hell, and I knew I wasn’t able to hide my irritated face well enough because Wooyoung snickered as Mr. Song took off towards the elevator, my best friend’s boyfriend lingering just behind him. He gave me a wink before he was right behind our boss, and I sighed as I got back to typing, catching the beginning of their conversation about some issues they’d run into while designing the new prototype. But other than that quick interaction, Mr. Song ignored me for the rest of the day minus the fact that he was spying on me from his office whenever he could, eyes boring into the side of my head and making me type just a little harsher than necessary.

But Mr. Song said something about being busy and not wanting to be bothered anymore half an hour ago, and after he closed and locked his door, the glass became all blurry and I understood the message: I was dismissed, I could finally head home—and head home I did, more eager than ever before. The metro was busy as most people were, similar to me, headed home and crowding the place. I stayed a decent distance away from the tracks and typed away on my phone as there was a commotion not too far from me. I didn’t react to it, used to the loudness and sometimes crazy people that came down to ride the metro. However, my dismissal quickly turned into alarm when there was a loud shout and a pained cry followed right after it and people ran left and right, knocking into me and almost sending me to the dirty ground. I stumbled and tightened my grip on my phone, not understanding the sudden hysteria until it was too late.

The crowd had cleared up enough so that the scene was visible to me, and I gasped as a woman lay on the ground, clutching her side as blood pooled underneath her. Despite living in a big city where crime was inevitable, I had never come across a scene like this and I felt frozen, terrified, and all of a sudden too dumb to do anything. People were screaming around us, mostly male voices demanding something, but my eyes remained fixated on the crying woman as her hands trembled and sobs echoed despite the loud commotion. Someone next to me was calling the ambulance and cops, at least five men surrounded the wounded woman and screamed at someone that I still couldn’t see, and just when somebody shoved me and told me to get away, I snapped out of it, but it was too late. A calloused hand was wrapped around my throat as cold metal pressed against my throat, already wet and dripping red with blood from the aggressor’s previous attack.

“Don’t make me do it!” The man screamed at the top of his lungs as I was rendered frozen, heart beating out of my chest and breath stilled in my throat, “Don’t make me kill her too!”

I went even more rigid, if possible, body shaking from fear as I remained silent, eyes darting around the place and silently crying out for help with my eyes, “Listen, we can settle this, no need to harm her too.”

“You’ll immobilise me if I let her go,” The man’s voice that held me captive thundered over my head and I tried to gulp but was afraid the movement would make the blade cut into my skin, “I’m not going to jail. She had it coming, she was a cheating bitch!”

“Alright, we get it, man!” A man that was crouched next to the wailing woman snapped, eyes burning with passion as he turned to face us, “You got what you wanted, the woman you’re holding right now is innocent, let her go.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” At the shout and jerk of my captor’s body, I whimpered and grabbed onto his sleeve as I felt the cold blade press much harder into my skin, making my lips tremble as I fought back tears. I tried to pull the man’s arm away, desperately so, but he was relatively stronger, “Stop moving around, bitch, if you don’t want to die!”

I was breathing hard by now, trying to keep it together, but I was failing as my vision became blurred by tears that I tried to hold in. I could hear sirens in the distance and the people around the woman fussed about as they tried to stop her bleeding, but it didn’t seem to help. I wished someone would snatch me away from the psycho holding me and save me, but I knew the bleeding woman needed the help more than I did—unless I was injured too, who knew, maybe I’d never get to see tomorrow. The thought was frightening and I gulped down another whimper as the man's fingers dug into my shoulder as he kept me pressed against himself, he was breathing even harder than I was, his chest moving up and down quickly against my back.

“Listen, the woman you’re holding right now did nothing to you.” Another person tried to reason, a soft-spoken boy who was crouched right in front of the injured woman, hands bloody and eyes hardened, “She’s a complete stranger to you, she doesn’t even know who you are. If you want another person’s blood on your hands and a lifetime sentence, then by all means, go ahead and kill her too.”

I went to protest with a whine, but I felt the man’s grip loosen after a few seconds as he cursed under his breath. I was shaking, still clutching my purse in both of my hands as I had dropped the one holding onto the man’s arm out of fear of agitating him even more. Gasps could be heard above us, where the entrance of the metro was, and suddenly a peculiar sound filled the space. It sounded mechanical but not quite, hard and scraping like metal, and it was loud. The sirens were even louder now and I knew help was close by, I could only hope it came before I suffered any serious injuries. My heart was thumping so fast I was sure the artery in my neck was pulsating too, just the more inviting to be slashed or stabbed. The thought made me shudder and just as I was about to open my mouth and plead for my life too, something red and robot-like descended only a few feet away from us. Everyone gasped and murmured, my own eyes widened as I stared at the robot-like red machine, all armour and menacing looking from up close.

I had only seen Iron Man on TV, and suddenly, everything I had heard about the anonymous superhero seemed to be true. The person behind the iron armour was tall with wide shoulders and narrow hips as the costume moulded onto his body perfectly, and the person’s face was concealed by a mask that never came off, teasing the public of who could bear it. Despite knowing that the person behind the mask had no mal-intention and was here to rather save me, I couldn’t help but watch it with doubtful eyes, intimidated by the loomingly tall body and firm structure of the costume. There was a collective moment of pure silence, everyone holding their breaths as they waited for Iron Man to do something. The man holding me cursed loudly this time and I gasped as my eyes widened, his knife digging into my skin so that it scrapped my skin. I bit my bottom lip and tried to refrain from crying despite every particle of my body crying out in desperation to be freed and finally saved.

“Well, what do we have here, huh?” The superhero’s voice sounded somewhat robotic, but it wasn’t hard to make out that the person’s voice was grave, deep, and rather sharp as he spoke, “Terrorizing innocent women at the metro, is that a new hobby of yours? Did your mother not love you enough or what?”

“Shut up!” The man screamed and made me flinch as it made my ears ring, and suddenly I doubted that Iron Man was here to save the day. Why in hell would he be antagonizing an armed man holding a hostage?! I hoped the superhero could see my glare as I blinked my tears away, suddenly my terror blending together with anger due to nobody doing anything to help me, “What the fuck do you know about love, you iron fucker?!”

The armoured man chuckled and it was raspy almost, “I don’t fuck iron, but my costume is made of iron, hence the name—”

“Cut the attitude!” The man hissed and I gulped, fidgeting around and reaching inside my purse to see whether I had anything on me to use as a weapon to free myself since nobody was doing anything real to help me, “I’ll kill this bitch!”

“Don’t call her a bitch, you lowlife.” Iron Man snapped with irritation and I paused, eyes boring into the mask where its eyes were. At least Iron Man seemed to be a decent man when he wasn’t mocking and teasing the criminal, “Now, I’ll tell you how this goes—”

“Just shut the fuck up—”

“If you interrupt me one more time, I’ll blast off your face, dude.” The patience of Iron Man seemed to have snapped all at once as he raised his arm, something blue glowing in the middle of the iron palm. It didn’t look friendly nor like it wouldn’t hurt as it twisted and turned, accumulating more and more energy, “Like I was saying, this can go two ways. You release her and I take you to the officers without unnecessary injuries or you keep being foolish and I’m forced to take you down to free her, which are you choosing?”

“Fuck yourself!” The man turned his head and spat on the ground, making my face scrunch up in disgust as my body continued to tremble, wondering how Iron Man could hurt my captor without hurting me in the process as well. Certainly, whatever thing he meant to blast at the man wasn’t smart enough to go around me or dodge me, no matter how I tried looking at the situation, neither looked like I would get out of this unscathed. But if my hope in the superhero faded, it returned when the cops and paramedics finally showed up, spilling down the stairs, the cops pointing their guns at me and the man as the medics ran to the injured woman to help her and take her away to the nearest hospital. I gulped, counting the seven officers as they closed in on us, stopping just behind Iron Man as they assessed the situation.

“Sir.” The captain addressed Iron Man and the superhero ignored him besides the small nod of his head, “We’ll handle it from here.”

“How?” Iron Man chuckled, apparently amused meanwhile I was seriously on the verge of bursting out in tears. I’ve never had so many weapons pointed at me and I didn’t know how to react other than prepare for the pain the bullets would probably leave, “By harming her too?”

The captain said nothing as he sent the superhero a sharp stare, then faced me with a reassuring smile on his face, “Do not worry, ma’am, we’ll get you just in a second.”

“Cut the crap.” I hissed, surprising everyone—even my captor—as my body shook and my voice was laced with fear and annoyance. I wasn’t a child they could fool that everyone would be alright, I was conscious that they’d have to hurt me in order to take down the man holding me, “Just do your job.”

The paramedics rushed the woman above ground, probably to an ambulance, and I wished for nothing more than to be free and sitting in an ambulance where they’d check for my injuries, hopefully not too many.

“Sir, you’ll have to drop the knife if you don’t want to—”

“Mr. S!” A boyish and excited voice called out from behind us and I sighed, mind too tired to keep up with everything that was happening. Just who was this new person and why was nobody doing anything to help me?! But almost as if the newcomer was a mind reader, he called out again, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!”

And then everything happened at once, there was web on the man’s wrist that held the knife to my throat, and then it was yanked away, finally letting me breathe without the fear of cutting myself accidentally, and I was shoved really hard. I stumbled as my legs had gone numb, and I was sure I would crash to the ground with a loud and painful thud, but it never happened. What I did crash into was cold and hard, but it wasn’t anything like the ground. It was sturdy under my grip as I gasped and gripped onto the iron shoulders of the man, and suddenly, I craved a warm body and some fabric my fingers could dig into for comfort. My chest rose and fell so quickly I became lightheaded as I clung to the superhero with desperation, legs going jelly as he had to hold me up, “It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re safe, Miss Jang, I’ve got you.”

A sob left my throat but no tears fell from my eyes as the police officers were shouting around us, only making my panic rise as I forced my eyes shut, telling myself that if I couldn’t see then it wasn’t real. Iron Man tsked and grumbled something intangible before I felt a metallic arm underneath my knees, the other holding me up by my torso, and then I was lifted into the air bridal style and taken away from the scene of the policemen arresting my captor. I tried to reassure myself that everything was fine and that I was safe, but the lack of warm skin and a face I could associate with my saviour only made me more jittery and uncomfortable. Iron Man seemed to realize this as my muscles were tense to the point they were aching, and so, he sat me down on the stairs and tucked me away from the eyes of the world as everyone rushed around us. He stood in a way that he obscured the world for me and I was grateful as I could finally breathe. I held my head in my hands and brought my knees up to my chest, pressing my forehead against my knees, “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s over.”

I whispered over and over until my brain finally believed what it was hearing and my muscles relaxed just a little bit, but the trembling never went away. I knew I told Wooyoung to tell Sooyoung I wouldn’t go over for dinner tonight, but I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep alone in my apartment tonight.

“Are you hurt?” Iron Man asked as he remained standing, and I gulped and licked my lips, which had become painfully dry in the span of a few minutes.

“No,” I muttered, keeping my eyes closed, “he probably scratched me, but I’m fine.”

“Good, you’re safe.”

“I know.”

My whisper was drowned out by the loud voices of the journalists who made their way down to get the last-minute news just as the cops escorted the man up the stairs. I knew I had to leave a statement and that I would be probably called to the station, but all I wanted to do was get to Sooyoung’s place and soak in a bath until it was time to go to sleep.

“Hey, Mr. Son—I mean, Iron Man!” The same boyish voice that apparently actually saved me from my captor was loud and made me cringe as I raised my head and blinked my eyes open.

“Stop yelling, idiot.” Iron Man hissed and held the man, Spiderman, back by the shoulder as he skipped over to us.

“Oh, sorry.” His voice was slightly distorted, but it was obvious he felt sorry as the eyes of his mask blinked, freaking me out even more than Iron Man’s cold costume. I was very aware that I lived in the same city as certain superheroes, but encountering them felt weird, and if I was being honest, I wasn’t much of a fan. I much preferred seeing them on the news and in newspapers. Spiderman, who sounded way too young even with his voice distorted, seemed to be just as tall as Iron Man, if not taller, and he was lean but muscular. It came as no surprise since he crawled around buildings and hopped around in the sky, hanging off his web—you needed some serious muscles for that, “I didn’t mean to startle you, are you both alright?”

“Yes, not even a scratch—”

“I was scratched.” I snapped as I looked up at the two, hugging my knees close to my chest still. Spiderman’s mask blinked again and I averted my eyes as it made my skin crawl, “But I’m alright, thank you for saving me, Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?!” The iron-clad superhero asked with an edge to his voice, almost as if he was pissed off, “I was the one to come to your rescue first—”

“And yet it was Spiderman who actually did something to save me,” I hissed, utterly spent and pissed off now that I wasn’t held at knifepoint anymore, “All you did was chat away and mock the man, endangering my life even more.”

Silence followed my harsh words but I couldn’t care less as I saw a paramedic with kind eyes and a kind smile approach us carefully, greeting the superheroes meekly, “Miss, we will have to check up on you too now.”

“I’m fine though,” I muttered and tried to stand up but found little to no power in my legs, before I could stumble, Iron Man was by my side and helping me up. I looked up at the iron mask and said nothing as I still felt disdain towards the person behind the mask.

“You don’t look fine, Miss Jang.” I huffed and allowed the superhero to help me stand until the paramedic came to my aid, holding me up as the two superheroes followed us up the stairs.

“Should I carry you, ma’am?” Spiderman asked with worry, “You’re a bit pale, I can carry you if you want me to, I know I look scrawny but I’m actually really strong!”

“I carried her just fine before, do you need assistance?” Iron Man huffed and turned his head sharply towards Spiderman as the two men walked on each side of me and the paramedic. My body was still shaking so it was a little hard to coordinate my legs, but with the help of the paramedic, I was managing just fine, except for the violent thumping of my head and the haze that followed my vision.

“What I need is you two shutting up,” As an afterthought since they did save my life, I added, “Please.”

“Sure, ma’am, but just let me know if anything’s wrong, I can—”

“Shut up.” Iron Man groaned loudly, and the paramedic snickered as if a situation like this one was something anything out of the ordinary to him.

“Yes, Mr. Son—uh, Iron Man! I mean, Iron Man, sorry sir, I’ll shut up now.” Spiderman’s voice was defeated and a little tight, and I could swear Iron Man muttered a threat under his breath, but once we were up on the surface and all the hustle and bustle of the city hit me, I felt faint. Dangerously faint as I squinted my eyes, the swirling red and blue lights of the ambulance and cop cars blinding me for a second.

“Alright, you can sit in the ambulance and I’ll do a quick check-up.” The paramedic let me know as Spiderman eagerly opened the back of the ambulance and helped the paramedic walk me up and onto the bed, “Do you have anyone we can call to take you home?”

“Park Sooyoung,” I heaved a sigh and opened my purse, “If she doesn’t pick up, then Jung Wooyoung.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“Shut up!” I flinched at Iron Man’s harsh tone as he yanked Spiderman by the collar all up in his face, shaking the younger-sounding boy as he just chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, Mr. S.”

The paramedic snickered again and I handed him over my phone as he grabbed his little light to flash my eyes and momentarily blind me, “So, because it’s protocol, I’m going to ask how you feel again. Anything that’s changed now that we’re above ground?”

“No, nothing, I’m feeling fine.”

And then, the whole world went dark.

            I stared at the screen of my phone, I actually had been for a few good minutes now, but my brain didn’t register the words. Sooyoung was asking if I was up to grab a quick lunch with her, of course, if my oh-so-lovely boss allowed it, but I was way too distracted by said boss’ deep voice speaking in a hushed tone coming from the kitchen. It’s been three days since the whole metro fiasco and I had been down at the police station, gave them my statement, and I would be probably called in as a witness once the court date is set—that fucker isn’t getting out of jail after he tried to kill his girlfriend, I wouldn’t allow it.

People looked at me weirdly and I heard them whispering behind my back whenever I walked down the hallways as, of course, that idiot of a Wooyoung had run his mouth and now the whole company knew that I almost died—his words, not mine. A quick session with the company’s therapist had her convinced that I was alright and needed no further sessions despite my initial disdain to even go to one because I knew I was fine. Of course, I was a little jumpier and avoided the metro even if it took longer to get to work and then home, but until my mind would fully accept that it was a freak accident and that I was at the right place at the wrong time, I couldn’t help but indulge to the small voice of fear at the back of my mind. Sooyoung has been kinder than usual, offering up her spacious couch if I felt like crashing over at her place, but quite frankly, since Wooyoung was almost always over I preferred the quiet of my own apartment, even if I had to triple-check that I locked the front door before I went to sleep.

I was fine, I really was—and this isn’t me trying to convince myself—it’s been three days after all, and to be frank, the fact that these so-called superheroes actually do their job was another comforting thought. Well, Spiderman at least does, can’t say much about Iron Man. The only ‘help’ he offered was to stall and distract my captor, something me and the other on-lookers were managing just fine on our own too. But still, I felt a little bit of gratitude for the iron-clad superhero too for holding me and reassuring me when my brain was fogged up with terror and conviction that I was going to die. But now, three days later, things that seemed insignificant at the moment came back in flashes that had me questioning myself whether it was a fragment of my imagination or it truly had been said.

The first and biggest issue that seemed to concern me was the fact that Iron Man seemed to know my name when it wasn’t said or mentioned at the scene at all. It didn’t even occur to me at that moment as I was too wrapped up in the fact that a knife no longer put my life at risk, and even welcomed the familiarity and reassurance the superhero brought with his words. But now that I was conscious and no longer ridden with fear, I was thoroughly confused. I knew nobody had uttered my name, not even me, so just how was it possible that the iron-clad man had known it? Did superheroes have mind-reading powers too, or was it just common knowledge that Iron Man knew these sorts of things? Had I been hallucinating? But that couldn’t be either because I was sure he had said it twice, that must’ve meant something. Like the fact that I wasn’t hallucinating.

And then, not because I associate and compare all assholes to my boss, but the way Iron Man mocked my captor sounded a lot similar to the way Song Mingi would talk down on his employees, sneer on his face as arrogancy laced his tone. The voice modulator Iron Man used made it harder to assess any emotion in his tone, but I was sure I have heard a tinge of cockiness in it when he was busy mocking the man instead of saving me from him. It was a far-fetched reach, I knew it, but there was also this gut feeling that told me to trust myself and roll with the delusion. And my intuition had never been wrong before.

The third reason that it all seemed a little suspicious to me—completely aware that this was a relative fact and any man could have the physique of my boss—it still made me search up photos of Iron Man that had been taken on a whim for magazines to compare to those editorial shots Song Mingi enjoyed doing. It was a match, their shoulders wide and broad, hips narrow, creating the perfect inverted triangle shape that so many people went crazy over. Their heights seemed to be a match too, both tall intimidatingly so. I read through forums to see what others who had encountered the superhero had to say, and I wasn’t surprised to find out that they were rather condescending about him. Apparently, he liked to talk a lot before he got to do the saving, and it put other’s lives more in danger, sometimes resulting in grave injuries. He spoke like he ruled the whole world and everyone else had to bow down to him, and he oftentimes after saving the victims disregarded them and told them to go on their merry way and be more mindful next time, as if it was their fault that they had fallen victims in the first place.

And lastly, because perhaps it was the most pressing issue after the fact that Iron Man knew my name, it was the certainty that Spiderman seemed to be familiar enough with the other superhero to know his identity and address him by his name. Now, Iron Man stopped the other one each time from saying his name fully, but I had caught the little he had said, and ever since I had been thinking. I have heard others at the workplace address Song Mingi as ‘Mr. S’ more than once, even Wooyoung liked to call him that—and truly, ‘Mr. Son’ could be just an abbreviation for Mr. Song Mingi. I knew I sounded crazy to most, at least to Sooyoung definitely as she laughed when I told her my crazy theory, she didn’t understand why out of all the people I suspected my boss. Well, to be fair, I had no reason for that, but given the fact that the superhero showed up quickly to the scene, it was a real possibility. Even Spiderman and the police took longer, the company was right by the metro and Mr. Song specifically told me to go home as he wished to be alone.

Plus, because I knew Sooyoung would still consider me crazy, I told her about the fact that one time when I had been cleaning my boss’ office I discovered a hidden entry while I tried to move a decorative piece on the bookshelf. It looked like some classic villain shit at that time, but I said nothing about it to no one as I was rather complacent about keeping my job—I was still relatively new at the company. Sooyoung just laughed it off and told me that he probably had a vault in there for all the money and worthy items he owned. In fairness, it sounded plausible if my brain hadn’t decided to be suspicious of Song Mingi’s identity.

I had been devising a plan for the past two days, wondering about ways I could find out the superhero’s identity, or how I could catch my boss red-handed, but nothing was smart or subtle enough. He’d be able to trace it back to me and then all of my hard work at this company would go to waste, I didn’t want that. However, before I could start dwelling more on this, I was snapped out of my thoughts as Mr. Song’s voice carried closer to me.

“No, I told you not to come here—” Then he cut himself off with a groan, and I quickly straightened up in my chair as Mr. Song rounded the corner, the light in the kitchen switching off behind him. If he was good at something, even I couldn’t deny that it was the artificial intelligence he developed and then implemented in the whole building, “I’m not paying for your lunch again, Yunho.”

Gripping my phone a little tighter as I still had to text Sooyoung back, I allowed my eyes to rest on my boss as I took in his form, trying to recall Iron Man’s too at the same time. Mr. Song wore a suit today, all black and extremely form-fitting, with his black hair pushed back, showing off the undercut he thought made him look hotter. His vest expanded over his chest and became narrow at his waist, however, when he turned his back to me, I noticed that he had it pinched in so that it would cling to his hips instead of hanging freely and comfortably. I knew he was a man full of himself, but it was extremely infuriating that he knew how hot he was and he wasn’t ashamed to show it off too, “I told you I’m busy, kid, I can’t just free up my schedule whenever your devices go to shit.”

I flinched when Mr. Song suddenly turned, narrowed eyes landing on me as I turned my head and looked down at the computer, pretending to type away on it as I placed my phone next to the mousepad. My boss continued watching me and I tried not to peek at him, unusual to see him wear his thick glasses. Mrs. Bae had told me that he much preferred contacts and that we’d need to order new ones for him from time to time, so it made me fidgety as I wondered whether amidst my workload I had forgotten to order him some new ones, “Yunho, you’re a big boy, take care of it yourself.”

And then he rudely hung up as I could hear the other person still speaking on the other end. Mr. Song groaned loudly and my muscles tensed when he approached my desk, coming way too close for comfort. He leaned his hip against the side of it and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at me. I tried not to scowl as I fixed my posture and read through the email that just made it into the inbox.

“Slacking off already?” Mr. Song mused, voice impassive, “It’s barely your fourth day.”

I remained silent and opened the email instead, skimming through it. The magazine for the editorial shoot has proposed a date and time, so, I turned my head and looked at my boss with a bored look on my face, “Is Wednesday next week good for the editorial shoot?”

“I don’t know,” He scoffed, a smirk pulling onto his lips, “You’re my secretary, you’re the one that knows my schedule.”

My jaw clenched as I stared into his sharp eyes for a second longer, hoping that he’d see I wasn’t impressed by his jabs, “Your Wednesday is free, sir, that’s why I’m asking. It so seems most of your schedules depend on whether you’re in a good mood or not, sir.”

I smiled sweetly as Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed just a little, and then he bent down, his face coming too close for my comfort, “How attentive of you. Tell them I’m only available at noon for two hours, and you’re coming too.”

“I’m doing what?” I asked alarmed, eyes widening, “Mrs. Bae never had to go with you—”

“But you’re not Mrs. Bae, are you?” I wished to punch the smirk off his face as his eyes once again took me in closely, travelling lower on my body before they stopped on my lips, making my heart beat just a bit quicker, “So free up your own schedule and dress in something sexy, can’t have you looking like a grandma if you’re to be seen in public with me.”

I couldn’t help but gape at his blatant disrespect, palms turning into fists as I turned my chair to face him better, disgusted and irritated as I tried to remain level-headed, “Since it’s my closet and my body, I’ll dress in whatever I find fit and comfortable for such occasion, Mr. Song, thank you for the recommendation though.”

“It was an order, not a recommendation.” Mr. Song’s smirk widened and my blood boiled as it was clear as day that he was enjoying the exchange, that he was having fun that I was getting heated over this, “I can buy you something pretty, Miss Jang, if that’s the issue.”

I stood up, unable to control myself as I glared my boss down despite him being obviously taller than me, “I don’t need you to buy me anything and I won’t have you order me around unless it’s strictly work-related. Just because your name is Song Mingi and you’re rich and can have anything and anyone, don’t think I won’t hurl your ass to court for breaching the contract and for trying to exploit your employees. I’m not your pet, Song.”

All amusement and arrogance left Mr. Song’s face as his expression turned cold, his sharp eyes running over my features before he hummed, rubbing his bottom lip as his glasses slipped lower on his tall nose, “Sweet, Miss Jang, perhaps then you can cancel the lunch with Mr. Park I should be leaving for right now, something more important came up. I assume you can do this much since it’s work-related.”

I gritted my teeth and exhaled, letting my features relax as I plastered on my generic smile and bowed my head just slightly, “Sure, Mr. Song, anything else?”

He took a second as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose then smoothed out his vest, leaning incredibly close so that I would hear his low voice, “The celebratory party for our collaboration with the car brand is this Saturday, I assume you know most employees are invited. You weren’t since it was Mrs. Bae supposed to come, but since you’re replacing her, I’ll be expecting to see you. Jongho will pick you up half an hour before the event.”

My mouth fell open as Mr. Song hummed and cast me one last glance before he turned and headed for his office, my mind reeling at what just happened. Jongho was his personal driver and assistant, he was almost always at his side when the two were out and about as he also served as Mr. Song’s bodyguard. I tried to form some coherent words and refuse the weird proposition, but Mr. Song was already inside his office, however, he left his door open again. My eyebrows furrowed as I settled back down in my chair, nose picking up on a sweet but musky scent that never failed to invade my nose whenever I went inside my boss’ office. It was the cologne he had been using ever since I got to know him, and my eyebrows furrowed as the elevator suddenly dinged, signalling that someone had come up to our floor. Coming to think of it, despite the metal and the obvious smell of iron, something sweet and musky clung just faintly to Iron Man’s costume the day he had saved me.

“Hi!” I flinched at the excited and loud voice, shaking my head to clear the thoughts away as I looked up. I was surprised to see a teenager standing in front of my desk, eyes round and smile brighter than my future as his puffy cheeks were tinged slightly red. He had a scarf around his neck that hid his chin and lips and he pulled his beanie off, ruffling his greenish-bluish-greyish hair, “My name is Yunho! I’m here to see Mr. S.”

“Uhm,” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked down at my computer to quickly run through Mr. Song’s schedule, “Yunho and…?”

“Jeong, Jeong Yunho, ma’am.” He answered, tone warm and soft and yet boyish at the same time as he rocked back and forth on his heels. I scanned through the schedule but his name didn’t pop up.

“Well, I don’t see you in here, Mr. Jeong.” I pursed my lips remembering Mr. Song’s orders and what I managed to eavesdrop on while he was on the phone, “But he did cancel an important lunch, were you just on the phone with him?”

“Yeah, some of my—uh, devices for school broke and I need Mr. Song’s help.” The young boy tried with a tentative smile and I hummed in acknowledgement, eyeing him curiously. But before I could tell him that I needed to check with Mr. Song first, the man appeared in the doorway and sighed loudly.

“Come on, Yunho, I don’t have all day just because you decided to parade your girlfriend around the city and broke it again.” Mr. Song deadpanned, but I was surprised to see fondness in his eyes as Yunho grinned widely, darting towards my boss after he gave me a cute wave, “Miss Jang, you can go have lunch, we’ll be busy for an hour or so, take your time.”

“Oh, Miss Jang, that’s why—” Yunho’s eyes widened as if in recognition, and I watched him with confusion as Mr. Song slapped a hand over his mouth and yanked the boy who was slightly taller than him inside his office, door slamming closed behind them, “I didn’t know she worked for you—”

“Shut up.”

And just like that, my suspicion of their identity intensified. Could Song Mingi actually be Iron Man? I didn’t know yet, but I was convinced to find out, and a brilliant idea just came to mind. I grabbed my phone and texted Sooyoung that I was too busy to have lunch today and left for the security room of our building. Call me crazy but my gut feeling was never wrong.

            However, there was a single flaw in my plan. How in the hell was I going to execute it without raising suspicions? But it was too late to dwell on that as I had already knocked on the door and was waiting for the security guy to open it. Chewing on my bottom lip, I wondered which lie would be more believable, and just as I debated on wringing Wooyoung into it too, the door opened. Thankfully it wasn’t Chanyeol as he’d be able to tell my bullshit from miles away, so I smiled cheerily and hoped the middle-aged security guard would fall for my lie.

“Hello, I’m Jang Y/N, I’m Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” I handed my badge to the security guard and he grunted as he looked over it, handing it back to me, “I was wondering if you could let me take a peek at the security footage. My car was scratched yesterday and I’d like to see who did it since they didn’t bother leaving a note on my windshield.”

I tried my best to look disheartened but also slightly annoyed. The security guard froze for a second and then glanced behind himself, “Uh, I mean, I can look at it for you, just give me the car model and license plate.”

Fuck, that’s not how this was supposed to go. I bit my bottom lip and tried to improvise before the guard caught onto me, “You see…my ex works here too and I am pretty sure it was him. We weren’t able to settle things nicely and I know he’s still got a vendetta for me. I would hate to make this difficult for you, but I’ve got a restraining order pending and I would need the footage like…right now, you know? I can film it with my phone and later on get it emailed, but my lawyer is expecting it today if it actually was my ex.”

I almost grinned at how put-together and real my lie sounded, proud of myself. The guard’s face fell and I tried to school my expression into something like sadness and worry as he sighed, looking behind himself, “Fine, come in.”

I offered him a thankful smile and followed him inside, bowing at the other security guards as they gave us curious looks but greeted me back wordlessly. The guard led me to a different room littered with monitors and I stopped behind the chair he sat in, eyebrows furrowed as he opened a new window and typed in a code I couldn’t see as it was protected from view, “This was yesterday? When?”

“Well,” I fiddled with my fingers and tried to rake my brain for the time Wooyoung left work, “maybe around six or seven in the evening?”

“You stay a lot for someone who’s Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” The guard made small talk as he typed in some more codes and opened up the app.

“His secretary is sick so I’m replacing her for the time being, there’s a lot of work,” I explained and he hummed, nodding his head in understanding.

“When I don’t have the overnight shift, I also spend my whole day here,” He didn’t sound as bothered as I expected him to be, “The company is huge so we must work hard to keep it going, Mr. Song appreciates us and treats us well after all.”

Well, I didn’t want to crush the false image he had of our boss, but the guard was a man and after all, Song Mingi treated his male employees a lot better and with more respect than his female ones. Besides, I bet he barely came in contact with any of his security guards—besides Chanyeol, I suppose—so of course they’d have a positive image of their boss.

“Right, you’re right,” I answered absentmindedly and watched the guard click onto the screen that looked over the garage, clicking some more to rewind the footage to yesterday.

“What car are we looking at?” He asked and I almost groaned, trying to remember the model of Wooyoung’s car.

“It’s a Mercedes-Benz, the newer type.” The guard paused and gave me a look over his shoulder, “Sorry, my ex is part of the engineering team who are developing the new prototype, and I never bothered asking for the model’s name but I’ll know when I see it!”

“I see.” The man muttered and clicked some more and there it was, the footage of Wooyoung’s car but he was nowhere in sight yet, “I’ll speed it up since you don’t know the exact time, tell me when you see him.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a wide smile and the guard grunted as he pressed play, people and cars moved quickly on the screen, but not so quickly that we wouldn’t be able to recognize them. However, this is where the issue of not having a well-thought-out plan came into play. I had no idea how to get the guard to show me footage of Mr. Song’s office, and I was also sure he’d never show it to me and would even get me fired. I tried to think hard of a way just as I spotted Wooyoung headed towards his car, I sighed but spoke up, “That’s him!”

The guard stopped the video to slow it down to regular speed, and then pressed play again, making me chew on my bottom lip and wonder whether I’d be fired if I knocked him out right now. There must be cameras inside this place too and just to make sure, I looked up towards the corner and saw the blinking red light of the CCTV. I sighed but focused back on the screen just as the guard’s phone rang. He cursed as he looked down at his phone and then paused the footage, swivelling around in his chair.

“I have to take this call; it’ll take a few minutes.” He said as he stood and hurried towards the door, “I’ll be back and then we can have a look at the footage together.”

“Sure, take your time!” I grinned at him and waved him off as he quickly left, accepting the call before the door was even closed behind him. Bingo, this was my time to shine. I waited for the guard’s voice to fade into the background and to make sure that no other guard came onside, and then I took my spot in the chair and swivelled closer to the screens. It took me a second to realize how to switch between the many screens, but having paid attention to the guard I realized that it was easier to moderate the system than I initially thought. I clicked on the window that had Mr. Song’s office and squinted my eyes as I watched him and Yunho huddled together at his desk, things pushed to the side as they both were leaning over something. I searched the screen for something that would make the image larger and grinned when I spotted the emoticon, clicking on it quickly as I was curious to see what got the two men so concerned.

Something small, a device as they had called it, was placed on the desk as they crowded around it, lips moving as they spoke to each other. The younger boy had disregarded his backpack, coat, scarf and beanie on the leather sofa and seemed rather comfortable despite this being the first time I saw the two together. But based on Mr. Song’s body language and the way he spoke to him, I knew the two were familiar with each other. A little intrigued myself by that little device, I found myself curiously watching the footage, a yelp almost leaving my mouth when the two men sprung back as something wet exploded out of it. It covered the two in a sticky-like substance and I watched amazed as Mr. Song’s rigid expression melted into that of amusement as Yunho’s head was thrown back, body shaking from his laughter. It only took another second before Mr. Song was also laughing, pulling his glasses off and nudging Yunho as the taller one clung to my boss and threw more of that weird substance at Mr. Song. I had never seen my boss so laid back and happy so it took me a second to snap out of it and stop admiring his crooked smile through the CCTV, subsequently remembering why I was here.

Adrenaline rushed through my system as I realized the guard could be back anytime and catch me red-handed, surely I’d be fired with a case on my hands then, and despite Song Mingi being a nightmare, the paycheck and people working here were too good for me to want to actually leave this company. So, I found the option that allowed me to rewind the footage, only to get my hopes crushed when it asked for a code. I bit my bottom lip and tried to recall the numbers the guard had typed in since I took a peek at the keyboard, but it was fruitless. I found myself slightly panicking and pulling at the collar of my blue striped shirt, the chain of my badge brushing against my hand. My eyes widened and I looked down at it wonderingly, could it work? Pressed by time, I decided to try my luck once again as I flipped my badge and searched for my security number on it. I glanced back at the screen and decided to do it, type in my security number. The worst that could happen was the artificial host that Mr. Song designed would recognize someone was trying to ‘hack’ into the system and shut down the whole company while alerting the police and Mr. Song—lovely.

Sweating a little as my finger hovered over the enter button, I took a deep breath and swiftly pressed it as I had wasted too much time already. To my surprise, the screen started loading as it scanned the code and then suddenly it flashed black before a new window popped up asking for a date and time. My jaw dropped open in surprise and I fumbled for a second as my heart thundered in my chest, unable to celebrate my victory as I pressed in the date and approximate time with shaky fingers, chewing on my bottom lip. I must’ve eaten the lip tint already despite applying it this morning with how much I bit and licked at my lips due to being nervous. The screen loaded once again and then there it was. Mr. Song in his office, all alone, the hallway dark outside as I had left just a few minutes ago. He was sat in his chair, leaned back with his legs spread wide open as he stared out the window, running his fingers through his hair. Something seemed to get his attention as a red light flashed on his desk, and I realized it was coming from the thing I assumed was his desk clock. His lips moved but there was no sound as the cameras only recorded images, and then I watched as Mr. Song’s jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He sprung out of his chair and rushed towards the massive staircase, his fingers brushing against the books and the decorative piece I accidentally discovered myself.

I wasn’t surprised to see the staircase moving, making way to a dark passageway that was lit up as Mr. Song quickly hurried down, disappearing from the camera. I looked over the other windows and realized that there were no cameras in the room he had just gone in, so I prepared my phone's camera pointing it at the screen, and pressed record. The wait made it worse; my heart was thumping fast and every sound outside the door made me jump, but just when I considered fast-forwarding, Song Mingi appeared in the frame once again. No, not Song Mingi but Iron Man. Its mask was still open so nobody could even deny it that it wasn’t Song Mingi and I gasped as I watched him walk towards his window while pressing buttons on the left arm of his suit. The mask closed and the window slid to the left, making way for Iron Man to leave the office. And then, he was off, flying towards the metro station and leaving me gaping as I paused the footage and stopped my recording. My fingers shook as I fell back in the chair and I ran my fingers through my hair, not having actually expected Mr. Song to be Iron Man.

Of course, I was quite suspicious and even almost fully convinced it was him, but I fully expected to be proven otherwise since I was only being delusional, as Sooyoung had claimed. But no, it was real, my gut feeling was right once again. I took a second to try and wrap my mind around my findings and rationalize my next thought, but there were loud noises outside the room and I panicked, clicking through the windows and struggling to get rid of the footage I had just watched as I couldn’t find the ‘x’ button. The door opened just as I jumped out of the chair and raised my phone as if I had gotten an urgent text or phone call.

“Sorry about that, it was an urgent—”

“Mr. Song just texted me that he needs me up at the office, thank you but I’ll come back sometime else!” I rushed out as the security guard looked at me confused, stepping aside when I hurried towards the door.

“Oh, if you tell me the license plate, I can email it to—”

“Don’t worry about it!” I gave him a bright smile and a tap on his shoulder before I dashed outside, heart beating fast as I clutched my phone to my chest, the video in my gallery glaring back at me as I ran for the stairs, trying to keep my legs steady due to the heels I wore. But what would I do now? Do I tell Mr. Song that I know who he is? That I know he’s Iron Man? Or do I try to exploit this since he’s always an asshole and even a jerk to me? Does Mrs. Bae even know? What would she do in this situation? She’d certainly be disappointed in me if she were to know I tried blackmailing my boss, but if Mr. Song had been a nice person, then I wouldn’t have tried my luck with this crucial information on my hands.

Blackmailing it is, then.

            The rest of the day felt like torture. Pacing up and down outside Mr. Song’s office while he was busy with his meetings and who knows what else didn’t help at all with soothing my nerves, and despite a quick Google search of effective blackmailing tactics, I still came up empty-handed. I had to admit that I wasn’t as brave as I had once regarded myself, but if there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I was stubborn and determined to go through with this no matter what. I didn’t have an exact reason as to why I was doing this, but I was self-aware enough to realise that I wanted to feel in control, that I wanted to show Mr. Song that he wasn’t untouchable and neither the hot shit he believed himself to be. Of course, he could fire me and blacklist me at all companies, but as Wooyoung once had said, why live a boring life when you can bring a little edge and excitement into it by fucking it up yourself. He was right, but I didn’t know whether taking advice from someone like Wooyoung was smart or not.

So, without wanting to gain anything out of blackmailing Song Mingi, I decided to stay for as long as he did, and just be upfront when he’d be on his way home. Surely, he’d be too tired by then to give too many fucks about his stupid secretary assistant—now secretary replacement—and maybe he’d offer me more money, which…I would accept, obviously, but not without making a few demands like, he’d have to behave if he wanted to talk to me and respect me like any other male employee he had. Surely, I wasn’t asking for much, but with my boss, you never knew what was too much.

So, when it was well after working hours and my legs and back ached from sitting all day long, I decided to brew myself some tea and wait for another hour before I’d finally go home. Mr. Song had been cooped up in his office for hours now, the door closed and locked, and the windows were blurred so that only the light pouring out from underneath his door was the only visible thing and a tell-tale sign that he was still at the company. I couldn’t lie, I was actually quite curious about what he was doing in there, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to ask him—maybe I could ask Mrs. Bae once she had returned. While the kettle whistled and sizzled as I poured the hot water into my cup, I failed to hear that Mr. Song unlocked his door and opened it with a loud groan, too caught up in not spilling the hot water like I had done so before many times. With two spoonfuls of honey in it and the teabag thrown into the bin, I smiled in content as I made to return to my desk. Since I was still here, I figured I could phone up the accountant and settle the monthly appointment he had with Mr. Song, but I was scared out of my mind once I spotted Mr. Song’s tall frame leaning against the doorframe. His arm was up and pressing into the doorframe. His hair looked dishevelled, his black shirt was untucked from his pants with the top buttons unbuttoned, and his vest forgotten somewhere in his office.

I halted as if I was caught doing something bad and stared back at my boss as he fixed his thick glasses. He pursed his lips and looked rather displeased at seeing me, but his eyes curiously fell onto the cup I was holding, mindful of the hot ceramic, “What are you drinking?”

“Wildberry tea,” I answered and cleared my throat, resuming my walk over to my desk. Mr. Song hummed and licked his lips, eyes stuck to my form as I gave him a questioning look once I sat down in my chair.

“Could you make me some too?” He asked, sounding so unlike himself as his tone was laced with exhaustion, “Is it sweet?”

“Yeah, it’s sweet,” I said as he tapped the doorframe before he turned to head back inside his office.

“Make me some!” He called over his shoulder and I rolled my eyes, slouching in my chair. I didn’t want to get up again and fetch him some tea when my feet were killing me, he could get it himself, but he was too lazy and I knew he had fun walking me around all day as if I were his pet, it was infuriating. But perhaps this was my chance to finally do what I was here for, blackmail him. I grinned as I got up from my chair with a newfound passion, hurrying towards the kitchen to pour my boss tea and add two spoonfuls of honey. I placed the cup on a tray as well as three chocolate chip cookies, a napkin, and then I headed for Mr. Song’s office after I fetched my phone. It sat heavy in my dress pants’ pocket as I knocked on the open door as a heads up that I was heading in, and then I walked inside, my red high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor as it was dead silent in Mr. Song’s office.

It was dimly lit now, unlike when the door was closed and locked, and I let my eyes quickly run over the place as they lingered on the hidden door, it was closed, of course. I averted my eyes and looked back at my boss, whose eyebrows were furrowed and glasses discarded in front of him as he stared at his computer’s screen with mild annoyance on his face. Some strands of his black hair stuck up in places in a funny way, and I gulped down the chuckle that threatened to escape my lips, It was rather unusual seeing Mr. Song so stressed and pressed by whatever had him annoyed.

“Here’s your tea,” I announced as I came to a stop next to him, not too close though, and placed the tray carefully on the desk, in its usual spot. Mr. Song hummed, his eyes still glued to the screen, and too curious for my own good, I took a peek at it, surprised to find him reading the news about a war that’s been ongoing for way too long now. I never took Mr. Song as a person who would worry about others or would feel pressured to do something, but the creases on his forehead and the slight sneer on his lips were rather obvious factors that he wasn’t pleased with the development of the war. And then, looking at the article for a little longer, I realized they were bashing his weapons and his company. Now it made sense that he looked annoyed, suddenly I didn’t feel as brave as before to tell him that I knew he was Iron Man.

“Did you put sugar in it?” He suddenly asked and glanced at me, making me stand up straight and quickly avert my eyes from his computer’s screen.

“No, it’s better with honey,” I answered and his eyebrows only furrowed further as he glanced at the tray then back at me. He fell back in his chair and heaved a long sigh, chewing on his bottom lip. The longer I looked at him, the more I realized something was bothering him. I didn’t dare ask whether anything was wrong, and he said nothing as he continued looking at me. My heart had started beating faster and I gulped as my phone seemed to weigh bricks in my pocket, a reminder of why I was still at the company and not at home, in my bathtub soaking up my flowery scented bath bombs.

“I don’t like honey.” Mr. Song muttered at last and I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something I might regret later. I sighed and reached for the teacup with a displeased expression on my face.

“Fine, I’ll bring you another one with sugar—”

“I’ll drink it.” I froze as he grabbed my hand, looking up at me with glimmering eyes, and suddenly I couldn’t think straight. He looked very much nothing like the man I had known for years, and it almost made me question myself. Could Mr. Song have an actual soft and caring side? Was he not always an arrogant prick who hit on women and only used them for his sexual needs? I gulped and looked down at our hands, his big palm was calloused and it almost completely engulfed my hand. It made my cheeks flush and I found myself speechless for a second.

“Oh, okay,” I said quietly and went to pull back, but Mr. Song didn’t release my hand just yet. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed to be in deep thought as he looked up at me again with defeat in his eyes.

“Do you ever feel alone, Miss Jang?” My eyes widened at the sincerity in his voice and more so because of the question he asked. I had never thought a man like Song Mingi would be asking me such a thing, certainly, he cannot be lonely, he’s got everyone and everything he could ever want. Perhaps it’s a trick question he can fire me over.

“I think everyone feels alone at times, Mr. Song.” I answered truthfully, not expecting him to nod along and hum in agreement. I almost jumped when his thumb started caressing my skin, covering my arms in goosebumps as I once again looked down at our hands. His touch was warm and gentle, inoffensive and almost as if he wasn’t doing it consciously as it was slow and inconsistent.

“Even if they are constantly surrounded by people?” I nodded as I continued looking down, shifting my weight from one leg to another.

“Of course, it doesn’t matter how many people are around us and, on our side, if they only want something from us.” I shrugged and looked up, finding Mr. Song already looking at me intensely. I gulped and continued unsurely, “I mean, many people only create connections to exploit them later on, so I think it’s important to surround ourselves with genuine people who want what’s best for us, like our friends.”

“And if the individual doesn’t have genuine friends?” Mr. Song suddenly stood and I felt a little intimidated as he placed my hand on his desk and pressed his over mine, pretty much trapping me in one place, unless I wanted to rip it out from underneath his touch.

“Then it must be a truly lonely life, Mr. Song, they should look for quality and not quantity.” My eyebrows furrowed as Mr. Song’s strong cologne reached my nose, and it was a sore reminder that I had a plan that I still hadn’t gone through with yet.

“There are few chances to meet genuine people in my line of work,” He chuckled bitterly and stepped closer, making me look up at him as my heart started racing uncomfortably once again. His proximity felt a little uncomfortable but not as bothersome as on my first day—perhaps because he had no regard for personal space and always managed to invade it somehow, even if he was just talking to you, “There are few people who see me for who I am.”

I hummed and bit my bottom lip to stop myself from slipping up and telling him that there was a reason for that and that it was because he was a complete asshole to almost absolutely everyone. But my silence seemed to only spur him on and I was rather surprised that my boss was pouring his heart out to me in his office, after working hours, “There’s few people who don’t want what I own and even fewer people who aren’t eager to get in my good graces just because I’m powerful and able to change their lives for the better or worse. And even fewer women who wouldn’t bed me just because I’m rich and own a mansion and luxurious cars.”

Ah, so Mr. Song was only trying to get in my pants. I was surprised to find myself disappointed and bitter as the thought settled deep in my mind while Mr. Song’s hand slowly gripped my wrist, pulling me gently towards himself as I was unable to react just yet. I thought we were having a genuine conversation about a rather trivial issue that everyone faced daily, but no, he just wanted to fuck me. I should’ve expected it, of course, he wasn’t trying to pour his soul out to someone willing to listen, even if that someone was his secretary’s assistant. Of course, he wasn’t a good human being who tried to find solace in another one, to make a genuine connection and speak honestly. Instead of being disappointed by Mr. Song’s actions, I should’ve been more disappointed in myself and the fact that I believed he could be good even if for a few minutes. It made me want to cry, but instead, I felt rage simmer under my skin and my expression became schooled as Mr. Song continued staring into my eyes deeply, his face coming closer and closer. I didn’t move, I let him grip my waist and angle his head so that his lips would brush against mine, and then I spoke.

“I know you’re Iron Man.”

Song Mingi froze, face giving nothing away but his body went rigid and his grip on my waist and wrist tightened. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know that he felt caged, that his mind was twisting and turning to find a reasonable answer that could deny my claim. But I wouldn’t stop now because he didn’t deserve it. He was a piece of shit and I have had enough of him.

“Don’t try to deny it.” My voice was bitter and tone snappy as I glared into his eyes, gripping his arm to push it off my wrist, “I have proof, Mr. Song, and I will take it to newspapers if you try to sweet talk your way out of this.”

“What do you want?” Mr. Song’s was eerily cold, eyes that had been previously soft now all sharp and glaring as he leaned down so that we’d be eye to eye, our jaws clenched as I hoped my expression conveyed the spite I felt towards him.

“Nothing,” I shrugged and watched as his eyebrows formed a small frown, “Nothing material that is, but you should start fixing your attitude towards your employees and women especially. It’s sickening that you think you can toy around with us and then fire us because you got bored of fucking the same person, Mr. Song. It’s disgusting—you are disgusting by doing this.”

He released me at once and took a step back, furious very obviously as he scoffed, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes, “And this concerns you how? I thought you were a mere employee and not my mother, Miss Jang, but by all means, please tell me what else I need to fix to fall into your good graces.”

I smiled at him, all sarcastic and ready to tell him to fuck himself, “The last thing I wish for is to spend more time with you, sir, so don’t worry, you won’t have to fall into my good graces, I don’t think that’s even possible at this point. I was merely making a suggestion, perhaps you’d feel less alone if you tried to maintain a pure and genuine connection with someone for once.”

“If that is all, you can go home, Miss Jang.” Mr. Song crossed his arms in front of his chest, lips forming a sneer, “Maybe I shouldn’t have saved you if you’re so ungrateful.”

“Spiderman saved me, not you.” I snapped with fire in my voice, annoyed and irritated, “Even when you’re supposed to save someone all you can do is be arrogant and satisfy your need to show you’re superior to others, it’s pitiful—”

“Out, now.”

With one last shared glare full of spite, I stormed out of his office and Mr. Song walked after me to slam his door closed shatteringly strong.

            I should have been fired. I know I should have been because I was disrespectful to my boss, and perhaps if I had been in his place, I would’ve fired myself for sure. But I knew his secret and maybe that played a part in me keeping this job for who knows how long. But still, I should have been fired, or at least never spoken to again by Mr. Song, so explain why I found a fancy black box in front of my front door this morning after I returned from grocery shopping. Yes, it was Saturday and I was expected to show up at this fancy get-together to celebrate the collaboration of the two companies, and yes, I did consider emailing Mr. Song that I had fallen ill and wouldn’t make it. So, imagine my complete shock when I unboxed my anonymous package and found a gorgeous black dress with the price still on, making my jaw drop not once but twice. It cost a fortune and I might as well have lost my mind when I found the small note tucked underneath the satin fabric.

There’s a dress code for the party, wear this. ~ S.M.

Perhaps getting an existential crisis would’ve sounded much better than getting an insanely expensive cocktail dress gifted by your boss to an event you had no business attending, but because his secretary couldn’t go you had to fill in for her. I love Mrs. Bae dearly, but this was not in the job description when I sent my resume in. I knew people of all sorts would be there, all important and owners of multifaceted businesses and companies that were just as rich as Mr. Song’s, and I was understandably nervous. I knew I wasn’t supposed to speak to anyone, which I was more than glad to do, but what if anyone spoke to me? What was I supposed to do then? Mind racing with all different sorts of scenarios, I decided to ask Sooyoung to come over and help me get ready—which was actually just a distraction from the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about that damned Song Mingi.

Sooyoung, as always, was a sweetheart and made me laugh while we had lunch, while Wooyoung harassed us with phone calls, saying that he also wanted to come over and participate in all the gossiping he knew we’d be doing. San wasn’t available tonight, which meant that Wooyoung would be bored, but in the end, threatening to block his number on both phones managed to calm him down, so he finally left us alone. Sooyoung just sighed and apologized because Wooyoung was still clingy after three years of dating, and Sooyoung knew I could get easily annoyed and overwhelmed by her overbearing boyfriend. But I knew he meant well, and I never guilt-tripped Sooyoung too much for her boyfriend’s obnoxious personality.

But the moment to get ready came and I was more than mortified when Sooyoung emptied her tote bag on my bed and started listing off all the lotions and serums and perfumes and bath bombs she brought over for me to use, “You never know where you’ll meet your man, Y/N, you must be ready at all times!”

“Does that mean I must exfoliate my body with three different body soaps?!”

“Well, obviously yes! Your skin needs to be soft!”

“My skin is already soft, you know that. I’m not using all of that Sooyoung, please.”

“Fine, but shave at least, okay? For me?”

“I don’t shave, I only wax.”

“But tonight—”

“I’m not going there because I’m trying to bag a billionaire, Sooyoung, I’m going because my boss told me to go.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And risk getting fired?”

“Fair enough, go on then, time is ticking, bestie.”

And that is how I found myself two hours into getting ready, only a few more minutes until Jongho buzzed me to go down so that he could drive us to the company. Sooyoung helped me do a low bun that sat securely at my nape, front strands curled and framing my face prettily. My makeup was simple because I refused to let her help me with a smokey eye, I opted to wear a softer eye look so that I could wear my red lipstick. Sooyoung had a similar reaction to me when she saw my dress, and her jaw was on the floor as she reluctantly touched the glittery tulle dress, eyes switching between me and the dress.

“So, he bought this for you?” She asked with her mouth still hanging open as I changed into clean underwear in my bathroom.

“I’m sure he had it lying around somewhere in that big mansion of his,” I muttered with a scoff and Sooyoung tsked.

“No, I’m sure he bought it specifically for you, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes and prayed the stockings wouldn’t rip as I pulled them over my knees.

“Yeah, sure, I’m not some peasant turned princess overnight, okay?” I muttered with a huff as I started sweating, this stocking was kicking me in the butt, had I gotten a size smaller?

“Y/N,” Sooyoung’s serious voice made me yelp as she appeared in the doorway, pushing the door open. She had an incredulous look on her face like she had seen a ghost or had been just proposed to, I couldn’t decide, “Your name is on the tag, sewn into it, more specifically—”

“What?” I asked alarmed as I pushed past her and went to my bed to see for myself. I managed to adjust my stockings and gave a last prayer that they wouldn’t rip until I made it back home, then I wouldn’t care about it anymore. I held the dress carefully and touched the tag, leaning down to see it better. My eyes widened when I realized Sooyoung wasn’t joking, and I looked at her with round eyes, “What?!”

“Exactly!” Sooyoung shrieked and I gulped, jerking my head away when she came and hugged my side, “Are you sure you’re not into your boss?”

“Yes, very sure.” I huffed and made sure Sooyoung wouldn’t ruin my hair or makeup as I let her continue embracing me.

“Not even a little bit?” She grinned and batted her eyelashes at me, “Because I’m sure he is into you—”

“Alright, stop right there.” I groaned and pulled myself out of her embrace, “My boss is a womanizer and two days ago he tried to tell me a sob story to try and get into my pants, so no, Song Mingi isn’t into me and I’m not into him. Case closed, Sooyoung, I hate him and I hope he hates me too. I cannot wait for Mrs. Bae to return so that I don’t have to face him ever again.”

Sooyoung pursed her lips and gave me a look as she raised the dress for me, “Fine, but nobody gifts a dress like this—”

“He’s a millionaire—if not billionaire at this point—so no, Sooyoung, he can gift me a dress like that because it’s nothing compared to how much he spends monthly.” Before Sooyoung could oppose, I raised my hand, “I know because I’m the one who puts together his monthly expenses.”

“Okay, whatever.” Sooyoung huffed in defeat and walked closer, “Jongho is supposed to arrive any minute now, let’s get you into the dress.”

And I let my best friend help me wear the expensive and gorgeous dress, soft against my skin and exactly my size. I didn’t want to think too hard about how Mr. Song knew my exact size, but I suppose when you sleep with so many women, one glance at their bodies and you just know. A rather disturbing and disgusting thought that I didn’t care to dwell on too much right now.

The dress reached past my knees and the sparkly fabric that came over the satin didn’t bother my skin at all. The corset bustier was semi-transparent and had a heart-shaped neckline in the front and lacing back, complemented with a sparkly black cape, which came with voluminous sheer puffy long sleeves. The gown was made of sparkly tulle and satin, its skirt puffy and creating the impression that I was wearing a puffed-up princess gown. Both Sooyoung and I stayed silent as we stared at me through the mirror and I gulped, twisting and turning to check myself out from all angles. I hated to admit it, but Mr. Song’s taste was spectacular. The dress looked rather pretty on me and delicately suited my shape and form. Each time I attempted to finally step away from the mirror and stop admiring myself, I found something new to marvel at, and, thus ended up grinning from ear to ear when Sooyoung started snapping chaotic pictures of me, the both of us a giggling mess when there was a buzz at the intercom. We froze and looked at each other and then I was racing towards it. I knew it was Jongho, but it could’ve been anyone else too.

“This is Jongho, I’ll be waiting by the car.” The man’s gruff voice said through the intercom and I felt jittery and nervous all over again.

“I’ll be down in a second!”

Sooyoung already had my coat and purse in her hands, and I gave her a grateful smile as I quickly wore my high heels, not keen on making Jongho wait too long for me. Sooyoung grabbed her stuff quickly too and then we were out the door, the front door locked, and headed for the elevator in a hurry. The ride down was filled with more laughter as Sooyoung tried to distract me since I was feeling nervous, but it didn’t help much when I spotted Jongho leaning against Mr. Song’s sleek Mercedes-Benz, a sophisticated beige colour. Despite not having vast knowledge about cars, I knew that this one was a classic as I have heard my boss gloat about it to others not once or twice, but many times. The car was from around the seventies and the model’s name seemed to stick with me, it was a Pagoda. It felt illegal to touch it, let alone lean against it as casually as Jongho was doing.

“Good evening, ladies.” There was a playful glint in his eyes as he bowed almost mockingly, and I huffed as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Hi, Jongho.” I greeted as Sooyoung waved at him, the two knew each other because Wooyoung liked getting drunk at team dinners and it was usually Jongho who drove him home as he rarely drank, busy running after Mr. Song’s ass.

“Well, if we don’t leave in two minutes our lovely Mingi will have us both fired, so…” He trailed off as he pushed off the car and opened the door for me with that playful glint still present in his eyes. Jongho was a well-built man, strong no doubt, but with a soft and cute face and a smile that could charm many—I had been charmed too, unfortunately, since he knew how to use it to his advantage and made me lose a significant amount of money one time when he decided he wanted to play the claw machine. He was tenacious and smart, a deadly combination for a weak-hearted person.

“Don’t worry, Jongho,” I gave him a huge grin as I walked closer, “we’re too precious to be fired, after all, who would clean up Mr. Song’s mess if we weren’t there for him?”

“That’s right,” Jongho muttered and I pressed a quick kiss to Sooyoung’s cheek before I hurriedly sat inside the fancy car, mindful not to scratch the red leather and interior of the car. It was beautiful and expensive, I didn’t understand how Mr. Song allowed anyone else to drive the car, but after all, Jongho was a trustworthy person and a good driver. Besides, I am pretty sure Jongho is the only person who Mr. Song considers to be his friend despite him being his employee, and I’m also pretty sure Mr. Song is a little bit afraid of Jongho because he never misbehaves when the other is around.

“Are you joining us at the party?” I asked curiously as Jongho sat inside too and ignited the engine to life, the rumble a low purr, a rather satisfying sound. Sooyoung grinned at us and waved as Jongho carefully pulled out of the parking lot, and we were off to S. Industries, my heart in my throat. I could only hope at least one familiar face would be at the party, someone I could talk to and hide behind if necessary.

“I’m not in the mood, to be honest,” Jongho said with his lips pursed, turning onto the main street with ease. The hardtop of the car was on as the weather didn’t allow us to ride without it, something I would’ve actually really enjoyed doing now, “But Mingi did say he wanted me there so I’ll just stick close to the exit. You know, doing bodyguard stuff.”

I chuckled and adjusted myself in the seat, admiring the interior as I carefully reached forward to touch the dashboard. I’ve seen the car numerous times but I have never come as close to it as I was right now, “Are you nervous?”

I gulped and looked at Jongho as he sped through the yellow light, “Is it that obvious? I’m shitting my pants, I’m not going to lie.”

Jongho laughed, sounding cute and warm, and his lips stayed in their usual gummy smile, “You should relax, you’re not supposed to do anything, so really, it’s just a good opportunity to get to know more people. Maybe someone steals you from Mr. Song and then there’ll be a big scandal that I’ll happily enjoy from the sidelines.”

“I know I have no actual reason to be nervous, but I’ve never been to an event like this one before and I just…I don’t know, actually.” I sighed and looked out the window as Jongho turned onto the street where the company was situated at, traffic was scarce tonight, “I’m not particularly fond of people like Mr. Song.”

“Mingi especially.” Jongho muttered with a cackle and gave me an encouraging smile as we stopped at the gates of the underground parking lot of the company, “You’ll see you’ll find likeable people tonight, maybe some new friends even. At least I know Mr. Park is a very humble and generous man, if you stir up a conversation with him, he’ll be more than happy to indulge.”

“Wait,” Suddenly I realized something I hadn’t thought about before, “Wooyoung will be here too, right?”

We were let in as the gate opened and Jongho waved at the guard as we drove inside the parking lot, “Yeah, unfortunately. Who do you think will drive his drunk ass home tonight? Me, and I don’t want to, but I’m a good friend.”

“I thought you weren’t friends.” They were, but Jongho denied it every chance it was brought up since he was embarrassed by Wooyoung’s personality. Jongho grumbled something and I chuckled as he parked the car rather skilfully.

“He said he won’t take me to the Bahamas if I keep denying that we’re friends, so…” He gave me a look which made me laugh, and we both got out of the car once it was parked with the engine killed. But for the rest of the way, we remained silent, especially since the elevator was filled with people dressed in fancy outfits as they were headed up to the fifteenth floor, which totally had a ballroom sort of thing going on. I didn’t want to wonder much about why such a room existed in a company like Song Mingi’s, but I supposed he’d flaunt his wealth any time he could.

The hallway was decorated with golden accents and dimly lit, a red carpet laid out, guiding you towards the entrance of the ballroom. I followed the others as I stuck to Jongho’s side, and he gave me a grin as we reached the entrance, bodyguards stopping everyone to check their invites and if their names were on the list. It was a pretty exclusive party, people couldn’t just sneak in if they wanted to. It was mainly to avoid a bunch of press people and journalists who liked to stick their noses where they didn’t belong to. I froze for a second when I noticed the security guard who helped me, sort of, by the door as recognition passed his face when he spotted me. I tried to look normal as I nodded towards him and thankfully, he was distracted by Jongho when he went over to greet his colleagues. He wished me luck and then I was off, greeted by Chanyeol when he told the bodyguard to let me through since I was Mr. Song’s secretary (assistant).

The inside of the ballroom was better lit than the hallway, it was decorated with anything golden, and there was a bar filled with people ordering drinks. Orchestra music was playing at a pleasant volume so that people could converse but also dance if they so wished to do, and I found myself not knowing what to do now. I stood awkwardly in the doorway and then decided to move towards my left, keeping close to the wall as waiters walked around with trays, carrying champagne and even some snacks and fruits. Everyone was dressed to the nines and most women wore festive gowns or cocktail dresses and jewellery that glimmered in the lightning subtly, surely worth more than everything I owned as they were mostly diamonds, no doubt. I felt out of place as I slipped out of my coat and looked around, trying to find a hanger or anything. There was none and I jumped when a waiter suddenly stood in front of me with a bored look on his face.

“Champagne?” I wanted to refuse but one quick glance around me told me that everyone had a glass in their hands, so I accepted it, fumbling with my coat and purse.

“Do you know where I can put these down?” I motioned towards my belongings and the waiter sighed before he extended his arm.

“There’s a wardrobe, I’ll take it there.” And then he went to walk off, but paused, “Do you perhaps work for Mr. Song?”

“I do.” Suddenly I felt extra self-conscious, was it that obvious that I didn’t belong here?

“Oh, good.” The waiter seemed to perk up a bit, even smiling a little, “You’re Miss Jang, his secretary?”

“Uh, secretary assistant.” I corrected him, and he just waved it off.

“Yeah, good, I’ll put your stuff with Mr. Song—”

“Don’t do that!” I almost but exclaimed, and quickly blushed when a woman who walked by us gave me a look, “I mean, please, I can hold onto it or something—”

“These are Mr. Song’s orders, so I can’t really go against it.” Then he bowed his head a bit and walked off before I could object some more, leaving me with wide eyes. Why would Song Mingi bother with telling the waiters to take my belongings to where his were? It made no sense, but perhaps that’s the treatment I got for being here in Mrs. Bae’s place. I cradled the champagne glass in my hands and looked around, looking for Wooyoung even if he was annoying and embarrassing. Although I doubted Mr. Song would’ve let him come if he didn’t know how to behave in a place like this. But as my eyes surveyed the crowd, instead of finding my best friend’s boyfriend, I found my boss. Unsurprisingly, he was at the bar, leaning against it as he was chatting to some pretty woman who was all smiles and laughed at almost everything Mr. Song said. I couldn’t imagine anything my boss ever said would be funny, but he most definitely acted differently towards people who weren’t his employees. I mean, he was well-known for sleeping with women left and right, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was on the hunt tonight despite the gravity of this event.

He held a glass in his hands, and I wasn’t surprised to see a ring on almost every finger of his, the one with a big ruby in it rather eye-catching. Being himself, Mr. Song certainly dressed to impress, and as I took in his attire, I realized with alarm that indeed there was a dress code to this event and it wasn’t black. Every woman in the room wore different shades of golden or beige, all light and sparkly at times, meanwhile the men wore mostly beige or a darker shade of cream. Eyes snapping back to Mr. Song, I realized it was quite literally just the two of us wearing black outfits, and suddenly I felt really stupid and embarrassed as I stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd. I now understood why everyone was giving me looks once they passed by me, and I had to take several deep breaths to stop myself from blowing up or crying, I couldn’t decide which one just yet.

Mr. Song’s blazer was cropped and put accent onto his shoulders, and perhaps it was glitterier than my dress and all the other ones combined. His pants seemed to be high-waisted and loose as they came down past his ankles, and as he angled his body to face the front of the room, my eyes widened when I spotted him wearing nothing but a simple vest underneath his blaze. It came up to his pecks and it was buttoned up all the way, stopping just above the hem of his dress pants. Heavy silver chains hung around his neck, complementing the jewellery on his fingers and bringing out his tan complex more. I didn’t understand why I had to be wearing black as well, surely, he didn’t want anyone else stealing the spotlight from him, yet here I was, merely a secretary assistant with our outfits assorted even down to their sparklines. I hated it, I concluded that it made me want to cry and I swiftly downed my champagne in one go, jaw clenching and eyes glaring as I turned my head away, unable to look at my asshole of a boss anymore.

I tried to hunt down another waiter with a tray to place my empty glass onto, but they were nowhere to be seen, so I just stormed towards the exit with the glass still in my hands. People were still coming in and it proved to be a bit hard to leave the room as I had to wait until everyone came inside, and unfortunately, Chanyeol had spotted me.

“Y/N,” He said with a small smile as he checked a man’s invitation, “You look gorgeous, that dress looks amazing on you. It’s almost as if it was tailored for you.”

I gulped to force down the lump in my throat and tried to smile as the man he allowed inside gave me a long look, a smirk appearing on his lips, “Thank you, do you think I could slip out for a second?”

“Bathroom break?” Chanyeol chuckled, and meanwhile I usually appreciated how carefree he was, I wasn’t in the mood to chit-chat around with him. I nodded wordlessly and he asked a lady to step aside for a second so that I could leave. I was glad that Jongho was nowhere to be seen as I stormed down the hallway, aimlessly as I had never been on this floor before and had no idea where the bathroom even was. The music grew to just a mere hum as I rounded a corner and found myself standing in a lobby, huge doors to my left and right. It was the restrooms and I headed for the emerald-coloured couch in the middle of the room. It was a semi-circle and had its back to the other couch and I plopped down on it, not minding my dress as I slouched, placing the glass on the floor next to my leg. I sighed loudly and closed my eyes, trying to calm my nerves since all I wanted to do was walk up to my boss and demand an explanation as to why he bought me a black dress. Was he mocking me? Was he making fun of me? Did he enjoy berating his hard-working employees? Was this some sort of stupid powerplay? I was furious and I was ready to go on a full whispered rant when the doors to the men’s restroom slammed shut loudly. I had missed the footsteps, but it seemed like whoever entered hadn’t noticed me either.

I knew hiding out here wasn’t smart on my part as Mr. Song would certainly want to see me, so I took a deep breath and told myself that I could call him out later or at the office on Monday, if not tonight. I couldn’t let him get under my skin again, I had to be better than that. Perhaps I should find Wooyoung and grab a drink with him, let him introduce me to some smart people and watch where the night takes us. Grabbing the glass, I rose and fixed my dress, checking myself out in the big mirror to make sure I looked fine. My cheeks were a bit rosy from my sudden anger, but if I plastered on my fake smile, nobody could tell I wasn’t feeling so fine. I took off and rounded the corner just as the men’s restroom door opened again, slamming shut irritatingly. Already annoyed, I stopped and intended to call out whoever was keen on slamming doors, but the hushed voices made me halt.

“She’s gone, bring out the weapons.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for longer?”

“All the important ones are already here, I don’t want more collateral victims than necessary.”

“Fine, boss.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I remained rooted to my spot, not having a good feeling at all about this. Who were these people and why were they talking about weapons and victims? I thought this was a highly secured event, so these two must’ve been on the list or something. Otherwise, it made no sense to how they got in.

“That Song prick will pay tonight for fucking us over, Sehun, mark my words.”

“When do you want to attack?”

“When he gets up on the podium for his fucking speech.”

“And his secretary?”

My heart stilled as my eyebrows furrowed, and I made sure to stay out of view as I listened attentively, disregarding my red lipstick as I had started chewing on my bottom lip.

“It’s not that old hag anymore, pity, the new one is rather gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“Do you want me to take her hostage, sir?”

“Yeah, kill her if Song isn’t cooperating.”

I gasped and pressed my hands against my mouth, hoping I wasn’t loud, my heart beating fast as my hands started shaking. My ears rang for a second and I swore my head became hazy, but I had to focus. I had to stop this before anything would happen. I wasn’t dying, and nobody was getting hurt tonight.

I knew exactly who to tell.

With a racing heart and unstable legs, I hurried down the hallway, grateful for the red carpet as my heels made no sound. I ignored everyone as I very rudely pushed people out of my way, ignoring Chanyeol’s smile and questions as I snapped at him to get out of my way. Jongho was back and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw my disposition, but I had no time to speak to anyone but Song Mingi—Iron Man. I felt judging eyes on me as I tried to keep my breaths laboured, eyes frantically searching the crowd for my boss, my heart beating even faster. As his secretary, I have read through the schedule and I knew Mr. Song’s speech was soon, I really couldn’t waste even one more second. Taking a breath to calm my nerves and think clearly, my eyes fell towards the bar and that’s where I spotted my boss. Without thinking, I marched over to him—and the woman he was with—pushing people out of my way without apologizing, but I’m sure they’d understand if they knew what was soon to occur.

“Mr. Song!” I called out with an edge before even reaching my boss, but he didn’t react as he probably didn’t even hear me, too busy leaning towards the woman he was talking with as he touched her bare shoulder, trailing his fingers down her skin. My eyebrows furrowed as I came to a stop rather close to them, but neither seemed to notice me just yet, “Mr. Song.”

At the insistency in my tone, my boss cast a glance my way and I watched as his grin turned forced, “I’m busy Miss Jang, find me after the speech—”

“I cannot do that, sir, I need to speak to you in private.” When the woman gave me a dirty look, I felt my jaw clenching, “Right now.”

Mr. Song seemed just as displeased by my rude interruption as the lady—but she seemed to be more pressed about my presence as she leaned back against the bar and took me in from head to toe—but when I pushed my trembling hands behind my back and looked at my boss with pleading eyes, he seemed to realize something was wrong, so very wrong, “Please, Mr. Song, we need to talk.”

He cleared his throat and adjusted his sparkly blazer as he gave the woman a dashing smile, grabbing her hand to press a faint kiss against her knuckles, “Don’t get too bored in my absence, Miss Han, I’ll be right back.”

She chuckled and nodded her head, then threw me another dirty glare, and then Mr. Song was finally looking at me with questioning eyes and without thinking, I grabbed his wrist and took off, pulling him after myself urgently. I apologized to people this time as we walked through the crowd, headed for the exit, and Jongho tried to stop us when he noticed us, but Mr. Song raised his hand to stop him. I was too scared to walk towards the restrooms as I didn’t know whether the men were still there, so instead, I guided us towards the elevator.

“What is your problem?” Mr. Song’s tone was sharp as he snapped once I stopped walking and I whirled around, his eyes were narrowed as they sharply looked down at me.

“Someone wants to hurt you.” I rushed out and before Mr. Song could interrupt me, I continued, “I needed a moment so I went to the restroom and after leaving, I heard two men talking and they were saying they will make you pay and—they have weapons, Mr. Song, they—they said they’ll kill me if you don’t cooperate with them—”

“This isn’t a prank or a joke, right?” Mr. Song asked as he stepped closer, and I quickly shook my head, grip around his wrist tightening.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this!” I hissed as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed and worry coated his expression, “They’ll attack before your speech.”

Mr. Song averted his eyes as they seemed to cloud over with even more worry and stress and then suddenly, he stepped closer, eyes boring into mine, fierce and burning with determination, “Do you know their names?”

“One is called Sehun.” I barely finished my sentence when Mr. Song tsked and looked at the ceiling, looking irked as I finally released his wrist, a little embarrassed for having held onto it for so long. Mr. Song licked his lips and then glanced down at me, opening his mouth to speak when there was laughter behind us and chatter. I barely blinked when I felt myself shoved backwards as my back collided with the wall, Mr. Song’s tall form looming over me as he caged me in between himself and the wall. My eyes widened in surprise and out of reflex, I tried to push him away. I grabbed his waist and attempted to wrestle myself out of the hold, but Mr. Song only pushed his body against mine as the laughter and chatter came closer.

“What are you doing?!” I whisper-shouted as I looked up at him with a glare, blood boiling that he wasn’t taking the situation seriously again and was trying to do—whatever with me.

“I’m sorry, Miss Jang, but everyone saw us walk outside together and, well, I have a reputation to uphold, you know?” He smirked and lowered his head as I sputtered, trying to push him away once again, “I will let you go when they have walked past us, stop being so fussy.”

“I wouldn’t be so fussy if you weren’t pinning me against a wall against my own will, sir, kindly fuck off.” I snapped and Mr. Song dared to chuckle, “There’s lives on your hands and you’re here with me instead, play-pretending that something that isn’t happening is happening, putting everyone’s life at risk—”

“Relax a little, will you?” Mr. Song groaned and poked my forehead with a finger, making me flinch away, “They won’t attack until I give my speech, so, we’re good. I could just not say that speech the whole night and everyone would be okay—”

“No, because they want revenge and they will get it, no matter what.” The people enjoying themselves had almost reached us now, Mr. Song cradled my jaw with one hand and tilted my head up, making my heart race as I gulped, “What we all need right now is a superhero to save the day, sir, we need Iron Man.”

“I thought Spiderman was the one who saved you.” Mr. Song’s voice dropped low as his eyes searched my face and I felt breathless for a second, his cologne strong and wrapping around us, “But you’re asking for Iron Man now? Don’t you hate me? Wouldn’t you rather have someone else save the day—”

“I don’t give a fuck who saves the day, Mr. Song, as long as they stop those two men, alright?” My jaw clenched and my eyes threatened to flutter closed as Mr. Song’s head lowered and his lips came close to mine, “I know you’ve done good things before, just—I don’t want to die.”

“I know.” Mr. Song whispered and suddenly the people went quiet as they had spotted us, “I don’t want you to die either.”

Mr. Song and I stared into each other’s eyes as I let his words sink in, trying to desperately ignore my quickening heartbeat and the way my muscles seemed to tense when he smiled softly, the hand holding my jaw coming to play with the front strands of my hair before he pushed them behind my ear. The people in the hallway suddenly giggled and muttered something about Mr. Song clearly enjoying himself, and then they rushed off while looking at us curiously. I exhaled once they were gone from sight and thought Mr. Song would release me, but his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked conflicted. I raised my eyebrows at him and slightly tried to push him away again, but he barely took a step back.

“I need you to go back to the ballroom and tell Jongho that there’s been a change to our plans, then tell Chanyeol to announce that my speech will be soon starting, alright?” His tone was soft and almost worried as I nodded, finally able to relax as Mr. Song completely released me and stepped away, his warmth disappearing with him. I gulped and fixed my hair, pulling the strands back to frame my face once again, failing to notice that Mr. Song watched me closely with a small gulp, “You’re gorgeous tonight, Miss Jang.”

My head snapped up and I looked at Mr. Song with an alarmed expression, but with a nod of his head he was gone and I knew what I had to do next. So, heeding his words, I ran back to the ballroom and called Jongho aside to tell him there’s been a change to their plans, watching as realization crossed his features. He squared his shoulders as his expression became schooled and cold, different from the man I knew. He thanked me and told me to stay safe before he was gone too, and then I knew that Jongho also knew who Song Mingi was. Next, I told Chanyeol to gather everyone and announce that Mr. Song would be giving his speech soon, and then I walked closer to the exit, eyes surveying the crowd and trying to figure out who the two men were. Nobody looked suspicious, and I felt more and more nervous as time went by and the room filled up with even more people. Everyone was eager to see and hear my boss, and the room was filled with loud chatter as the music had stopped playing. I jumped when the doors were closed and Jongho stood in front of them, hands intertwined in front of him and eyes steely as he looked around, searching.

The lights flickered and everyone looked at each other, surprised and a little confused, and then the lights went out completely. I gasped as the chatter died down at once, my breaths quick as my muscles tensed, waiting for the worst. I could tell everyone thought this was a trick Mr. Song came up with, but I knew just in how great danger we were. But then, before I could panic more and even start crying, the lights were back on and nothing changed. The stage was still empty and nobody had moved from their spots, I felt confused as Jongho and I shared a glance. Perhaps it was a malfunction or something, but that was unexpected and almost impossible as the building had backup generators that kicked in as soon as the electricity went out. Then, somebody cleared their throat loudly.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” People whirled around as we looked towards where the modified voice came from, a red iron costumed man stood behind the bar, polishing a glass. I could feel everyone’s confusion as they gaped at Iron Man, some even looked excited, and I caught Jongho’s amused smile before I looked back at Mr. Song, “I heard you’re waiting for Song Mingi’s speech, he’s a really good friend of mine, did you know that? We’re practically like twins, that’s how close we are.”

People laughed and some even got their phones out to snap pictures as Iron Man placed both the rag and glass onto the bar, resting his elbows on it as he leaned forward, chin in his palms, “Before I let my dear twin proceed with his speech, I heard there are people here who had planned a surprise for all of us. Kim Junmyeon, are you in the room with us?”

The crowd went silent again and looked around, my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to see if anyone reacted weirdly, but I couldn’t tell as there were many people in there. Iron Man chuckled and then stood up straight, trailing an iron finger against the counter, “I heard you brought your little brother too, Oh Sehun, so where are you two hiding?”

The lights went out and I yelped when I felt someone touch my wrist, bony fingers curling around my skin as I started yanking my arm free. Then, two spotlights suddenly snapped on and I whipped my head to my left frantically, ready to punch my captor and free myself and was rather glad to see Wooyoung. His eyes were big and he looked confused and borderline scared too, “I hate the dark, what the fuck is happening?”

“Are you drunk?” I whispered as I looked towards the spotlights, two men were illuminated. One stood in the middle of the crowd, which now had made way and stepped away as if sensing danger, and the other man was rather close to the exit, Jongho’s fierce glare was fixed onto the man.

“No, but I wish I was.” Wooyoung whispered, moving closer until his side was pressing into mine, “Are we going to die?”

“We shouldn’t,” Then I looked towards Iron Man who slowly walked around the bar, somehow managing to look menacing as the two men put on the spot looked towards each other, expressions tense and eyes glaring, “Do you trust Iron Man?”

“Fuck yes,” Wooyoung whispered as his grip tightened around my wrist, “remember that bad accident I was involved in? He’s the guy that saved me before the engine exploded, I owe him my life.”

I looked at Wooyoung with surprise as his eyes remained on Iron Man, slightly shaking but filled with admiration. Wooyoung rarely spoke of his accident, and even when he did, he never mentioned how he got out of the car, saying something about it being too traumatic to be spoken of. I gulped and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, “We’re not dying then.”

“We better not, I wanted to propose to Sooyoung next week.” But before I could react to Wooyoung’s words, everyone gasped as the two men drew guns, and my eyes widened as Wooyoung suddenly stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. My heart swelled and I gripped the back of his shirt as I looked at Jongho who was moving towards the one that stood close to him.

“Fuck off, you arrogant prick!” The man in the middle of the crowd exclaimed, enraged as he pointed his gun towards my boss, “What’s the meaning of this? Where’s Song Mingi?!”

Iron Man chuckled and as he started walking towards the man, the crowd parted for him as everyone ducked down in fear, “He’s busy fucking his secretary assistant.”

“Fuck off.” I hissed as my glare bore into the side of Iron Man’s iron mask, and as if sensing my rage, the superhero’s head turned just briefly, but I knew Mr. Song was looking at me. Wooyoung cackled in front of me, as if the situation was actually funny, but didn’t question it despite it being about me. Did Wooyoung know too, perhaps, that our boss was the superhero?

“Well, Mr. Kim, now that the man you’re searching for isn’t here, won’t you lower your weapons?” Iron Man turned his head, “You too, Mr. Oh.”

A man yelped as the one closer to the door suddenly sprung forward and grabbed him, holding his gun against the man’s head, a seething expression on his face, “I’ll blow his brains out if you don’t get Song Mingi in here, right now.”

But my boss didn’t react as Jongho slowly crept towards the pair, ready to fight off the man holding the weapon. Everyone screamed as a warning shot went off, the man in the middle had his gun pointed towards the ceiling before he pointed it at Iron Man again. There was a tsk and then Iron Man’s hand was pointed towards the criminal, something opening as blue light simmered in its palm, just like when he was supposed to save me.

“You’re being rude and you’re also destroying the décor.” Iron Man snapped and then walked just a bit closer, “You have five seconds to lower your weapons and it won’t be too painful this way.”

“Fuck you.” The two men spat in unison, and suddenly, the ceiling opened up and large weapons descended, pointed straight at the criminals' heads. They froze as the crowd went dead silent once again, everyone scared to make the wrong move as if they’d detonate the weapons. Two red dots sat on the criminals' foreheads, and I saw the one in the middle of the crowd slightly falter, fire dying out in his eyes.

“Still want to fuck me?” Iron Man chuckled, lowering his arm, “I only have to press one button and then both of you will be dead.”

I gulped and felt thankful for having Wooyoung with me as his presence brought comfort despite his shaking frame and constant silent curses, eyes darting between Iron Man and Jongho as the driver/bodyguard almost reached the criminal. Wooyoung looked like he wanted to help, but I grabbed his arm and halted him into place, knowing that I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him.

“Give us Song Mingi.

“No.”

And then the man in the crowd fired shots at Iron Man foolishly, emptying his ammunition as Jongho tackled the other one to the ground, getting on top of him to pin him down as the doors slammed open and police officers filled in to take the two attackers hostage. Iron Man casually grabbed the criminal’s gun and snapped it into two before he headbutted him, the man instantly falling to the ground unconscious. Wooyoung seemed to relax as people tried to flee the place, scared and confused, but the police asked everyone to remain calm as the threat had been neutralized. The Captain greeted Iron Man before they collected the unconscious man off the floor, the other one was trashing around and screaming as they had him handcuffed and held down by five officers and Jongho. Despite it being over, I found it hard to breathe as my body continued to shake, and I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying. The incident at the metro was too fresh in my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t eavesdropped on the two men. Wooyoung, sensing my panic, turned and pulled me into a warm embrace, rubbing my back up and down as he muttered reassuring words, cracking jokes that weren’t helping at the moment. I did appreciate them, though.

            Once the police took the two criminals and Iron Man mysteriously disappeared and Song Mingi showed up to do damage control, the crowd seemed to remain tense, and thus the party was postponed. Not everyone left, some decided to stay behind and drink and dance around, but as it neared midnight, few people remained. The event was ruined, but surprisingly, Mr. Song didn’t look too disappointed by it. After talking to the police and calming the crowd down and apologizing profusely, he sauntered over to the bar and downed a shot of tequila before beckoning Jongho over to drink some whiskey. The younger refused his offer but remained by his side, soon joined by a squeamish Wooyoung who was reluctant to leave me on my own. I assured him that I would be fine and needed the breather as I headed towards the huge windows to gaze outside. The city lights were pretty from the fifteenth floor, and I released a long sigh as I felt exhausted and ready to leave. I didn’t want to stay behind, but somehow both Wooyoung and Chanyeol managed to convince me as they offered me another glass of champagne to loosen up. Most of the employees stayed behind, eager to speak to their boss as it was a rare occasion if you didn’t work directly with him.

Distracted by the soft music and my own thoughts as I watched people walk down the street from time to time, I wasn’t aware that Mr. Song had approached me. He stood next to me, looking down at the city too, lips pursed as he spoke up quietly, “You did really well, Miss Jang, thank you.”

My eyes rounded as I turned my head to look at my boss, having never heard him thank anyone before so sincerely. It felt nice, it made my body jittery and my heart race a bit, “Would you like to dance?”

That surprised me as well as I froze, looking at my boss questioningly. Did he really want to share a dance with me? Although there weren’t many people who could see us, rumours spread quickly at our company—especially if they were about Song Mingi and his women.

“Uhm, alright,” I muttered and almost flinched when Mr. Song took my hand to walk us towards the dance floor. I gulped and stepped closer when we faced each other, Mr. Song’s free hand went to my lower back as he pressed our bodies together, and I gripped his shoulder as he, for some weird reason, intertwined our other hands. Our closeness felt a bit too much, too intimate, but I said nothing as it didn’t feel like he meant to do anything inappropriate. During this one week of working with him, I realized he sought out physical contact more often than not and stood rather close whenever he spoke to someone.

“Are you alright?” I chanced a glance at Mr. Song, but he wasn’t looking at me. I licked my lips and tried not to feel awkward as I nodded, suddenly reminded of when he comforted me while I didn’t know Iron Man’s identity.

“Yes, you—you did a good job tonight, sir, thank you.” My voice was small and I took a deep breath, feeling awfully vulnerable all of a sudden, “I wasn’t ready to be taken hostage again, I was scared.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Miss Jang, just don’t leave my sight.” Perhaps Mr. Song didn’t mean to say that as he gasped quietly right after before he cleared his throat and tapped my lower back, “Iron Man saves people too, you know? Not just Spiderman.”

“Are you really jealous over that?” I decided that I didn’t want us to be too vulnerable with each other, I still didn’t like my boss, so I tried to change the tone of the conversation. Mr. Song scoffed and moved us around the few dancing couples, he was rather good at dancing, fluid and gentle.

“I’m not the jealous type, besides, why would I be jealous of somebody like Yun—” The cut-off was way too abrupt and my ears perked up, eyes widening comically as I pulled my head back to look at Mr. Song’s face. He looked flabbergasted by his own words and I broke into giggles, averting my eyes when Mr. Song’s narrowed at me.

“I don’t think I was supposed to know the other superhero’s identity,” I said amused, and Mr. Song groaned as he gripped my hand just a bit tighter, as if warning me to stay silent. Well, at least now it made sense what I saw through the CCTV, that thing Yunho and Mr. Song were fixing had probably something to do with Spiderman’s web. So, it seems Jeong Yunho is Spiderman, what a small world.

“Just don’t tell anyone, specifically him, he’ll get excited and he’ll never shut up about himself—”

“Oh, sounds like he had a good mentor.” I mocked with a raise of my eyebrow and Mr. Song glared at me, “But I won’t tell anyone. Isn’t it even more dangerous for him, he’s still a teenager.”

“Do you worry about me as well, Miss Jang?”

“No.”

“That’s a pity, maybe you should.”

“You’re quite alright inside that iron suit.”

“Nothing is indestructible.”

“Then you’ll have to be more careful.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to be more careful now.” Our eyes bore into each other’s, and I felt my cheeks warm up as Mr. Song’s warm eyes were intense and curious, glinting with a seriousness that was rare to see on him. But it didn’t last for long as he looked away and twisted me around abruptly, making me gasp as I had to cling onto him before I lost my balance, “Mrs. Bae will be back in a week, think you can handle me for a little while longer?”

“I don’t think I can,” I snorted, realizing that I was almost hugging my boss with the arm that was supposed to only hold onto his shoulder, “But I don’t have a choice.”

“You’re smart,” Mr. Song chuckled and he lowered his head to be able to look me in the eyes directly, “And quite useful. You tried to blackmail me, you move fast, and stick your nose into everything, these aren’t necessarily good attributes, but they could be of use to me.”

My eyebrows furrowed as a wide smirk made its way onto Mr. Song’s lips, eyes twinkling with mischief, “What do you mean?”

“Are you trained in any martial arts?” I shook my head and Mr. Song pursed his lips, seemingly in thought, “Well, that’s easily changeable. Are you good with tech?”

I shook my head again and Mr. Song seemed disappointed, “Well, that’s not an issue, I have Yungi—”

“Who?” I asked confused as Mr. Song grinned.

“The artificial intelligence I designed to help me, he’s rather smart and a good friend when a man’s lonely.” That was perhaps impressive, but I didn’t say that to Mr. Song, he didn’t have to hear it from me too, “Well, anyways, I can find something useful for you to do.”

“Am I not useful already?” I asked confused, just slightly offended, “I help Mrs. Bae a lot, I’m her assistant after all, and by helping her, I help you too, sir.”

“Mingi.”

“What?”

“Stop calling me ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Song’, it’s getting a bit repetitive.” I gave him a funny look as Mr. Song just raised his eyebrows challengingly.

“But you’re my boss, sir.”

“Am I though?” My heart stilled as Mr. Song suddenly dipped me down, our noses touching as he looked dashing under the dim lights, blazer sparkling and eyes twinkling.

“Are you firing me right now?” I asked alarmed, both arms going around his shoulders once I was in a standing position again. Mr. Song’s strong arms went around my waist as he swayed us slowly to the rhythm of the music the live band was playing.

“Yes and no,” Mr. Song—Mingi—hummed, and then his voice rumbled quietly next to my ear, “You’ll be working less for Song Mingi and more for Iron Man.”

My eyes widened as my heart raced now, skin tingling at the weird proposition, Mingi continued to explain, “Mrs. Bae will be retiring soon and I already have the person who will replace her, and surprisingly, I quite like you, Y/N. I want you to help me out—”

“But how?” I couldn’t find anything with which I would be more useful to Mingi. He chuckled, and I felt him play with the strands that had fallen out of my low bun.

“Iron Man needs a secretary too.”

“And if I refuse?” I knew I couldn’t, there were too many factors at stake right now.

“Jongho will kidnap you tonight.” That sounded terrifying, “I can’t let you go, you know too much. But I assume you already know that, right?”

“I do, Mingi, but if you’re subjecting me to more hours spent with you—which will be my own personal hell—I expect the paycheck to be higher too, you know?” Mingi giggled, the sound deep and surprising, and I found myself smiling.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N, just stay by my side.” His voice was low and sincere and I gulped, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Does Mrs. Bae know who you are?”

“She’s my godmother, of course, she knows.”

I chuckled, not having expected that, “That explains a lot, actually.”

“She’s a menace,” Mingi grumbled and I chuckled again.

“And so are you.” I watched another couple join the dance floor, and suddenly remembered something, “You said there was a dress code, so why is it that only the two of us are wearing black?”

“Because there’s a dress code.”

“And it’s gold, not black.”

“Exactly.”

“Mingi.”

“I’m the host, I can dress however I want.”

“And me?”

“Shut up, I love this song.”

The song, in fact, was just another classical piece that I was convinced Mingi hadn’t heard before in his life, but I remained silent and decided to bring up this subject again sometime soon. Just what was Iron Man’s secretary supposed to do?

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[heechwe]

the boy is mine | 𝐥𝐡𝐬

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.3k ୨୧ genre: smut ୨୧ tags: secret relationship au, semi-fwb, idol!reader, idol!heeseung, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: A company costume party is not the perfect place for your relationship with Heeseung to be exposed. So, like rational people, you both decide to have a rendezvous in a closet when jealousy rears its ugly head, if only to prove to each other who you belong to. ➸ banner created by @hobeemin ♡

A costume party for hundreds of celebrities was as ideal as expected. The lingering, dramatic stare-offs between exes with bad blood created a thin layer of tension for some partygoers. The whispers of rumored hookups in the bathrooms at parties prior to this one caused an onslaught of prying eyes. With every motion of an idol, there was a microscope ready to catch every moment worthy of gossip.

Heeseung kept to himself since the beginning of the night, only conversing with his fellow members rather than other idols and leadership teams. It wasn’t that the guy was rude, not at all; he just didn’t focus on paying attention to the engagements of his colleagues. His job was to make music, perform, and then live his life. Once he was off the clock, nobody but Heeseung knew about what went on in his bed.  He preferred it that way.

“Come on, Seung. We gotta try and find some action tonight.” Jay tips his cowboy hat in his friend’s direction. The Toy Story costume did not suit him, and Heeseung made sure to tell him so when he bought it as the guys kept to the superhero theme they picked out. But, against the better judgment of his seniors, Jay tends to do what he wants. And tonight, it’s clear where his intentions lay.

“I’m not feeling it,” Heeseung responds, shrugging and drinking the beer in his glass, some of the liquid dripping onto his cowl. The plastic Batman mask itches Heeseung’s face, but it keeps him from being picked out immediately by randoms in the room.

“Seriously? Don’t be such a wet blanket, dude.”

”If you want pussy, go talk to Jake or Hoon, man.” The two aforementioned boys were chatting up some girls from a group under Pledis. With their respective Spiderman and Iron Man masks off, it’s easy to discern their place in the crowd of people. At the bar in the corner with their conversation partners, they’re on a mission to end All Hallow’s Eve with a bang.

Before Jay can respond, his eyes go wide in recognition and a smile spreads across his face. “Ah, I get it now. You’ve been waiting on her.”

Heeseung’s head turns, and he feels all the blood in his body go straight to his core. In a Catwoman costume, completely clad in a latex-coated suit and red lipstick, he may go insane and take you on the floor in front of everyone. Even in the mask that hides half of your face, he can see how your eyes darken when you capture his attention, the borders of his mouth watering at your figure.

He downs what’s left of his alcohol and readdresses his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

”Sure.” When Jay sees you continue your path towards Heeseung, he makes his exit in the direction of the bar. “Have fun and use condoms!”

Heeseung wants to slap Jay silly for saying his parting words so loudly, but the feeling dissipates seeing you so close. 

When you first met, it was a strictly platonic environment between friendly coworkers. It wasn’t in his mind then to progress to whatever your relationship was now, a partnership that dances the lines between a sexual agreement and a full-blown relationship. But now, the feelings in his chest are ready to explode in the tiny banquet hall the company rented for the party. He wants to kiss you senseless, smear your lipstick on his face, and press his face to other parts of you, but he knows that would expose both of you to extreme scrutiny.

It was not out of the bounds of your contract to date or sleep with coworkers under the same label. Still, it was extremely frowned upon by your peers. Keeping your relationship a secret was not difficult though, burner accounts and private meetups both yours and Heeseung’s best friends.

Heeseung tries to keep his sexual appetite at bay when you finally make it to him.  You pose with one hip jutting out, causing your whip to jiggle at your side.

“Selina Kyle, right?” He asks rhetorically, a smirk on his lips.

“Thanks for noticing, Master Wayne.” Your British accent causes Heeseung to emit a chest-rumbling laugh. “You look handsome.”

“And you look…” Although you’re nestled in your corner of the expansive room, he knows he can’t outright describe all the ways he wants to tear the costume off of you. Hands, teeth, the list is endless. But he settles with a simple answer that hopefully says just enough. “Incredible.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause of the spandex.”

His eyebrow quirks, unsurprised you could tell exactly what was on his mind. Six months of fucking made it easy to discern a person’s words from their tells. “I’m saying it because you always look incredible. The spandex is just a bonus.”

The tension between you is electric. Even prior to the first time you slept with him, the signs were there. You felt the buzz under your skin at his presence even if he said nothing and it was ever too brief. His gaze and body would linger during practices or studio sessions,  his being too close but not close enough if you were honest with yourself.

Heeseung tries to be discreet as he attempts to grab your hand under the cover of shadows. You shuck him off in the presence of so many eyes. “Not here, Hee.” You frown, wanting nothing more than to feel his fingers in between yours, his warmth bringing an unexplainable comfort. “You know they’ll talk.”

“They already are.” Heeseung practically hears the bullshit discussions between the surrounding people. Can you believe that? They probably picked out their outfits together. How can they be so obvious?

Your initial confidence is dampened by the thoughts that Heeseung knows you both share, but he shrugs off the chitchat about you both that could be occurring nearby. “Matching costumes can just be a coincidence.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?” You laugh sadly,  knowing you have to leave his side to avoid suspicions. The night may not be over, but you can’t stay too close unless you want to bring everything out in the open. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Heeseung can’t keep his focus on anything but you, conversing and laughing with gentlemen from other groups under the same label. The idiots came up with some Cowboys and Aliens-inspired costumes, and the flirting taking place between you and these men makes Heeseung scoff. How could you be impressed by a guy with a cowboy hat on? 

The interactions occurring in front of Heeseung make his skin crawl, the image of you smiling for guys who aren’t him hitting like a stone in his gut. He knows he’s not your boyfriend, and no labels were ever discussed at the start of your relationship, but that doesn’t take the sting out of it. And his feelings aren’t curbed by the alcohol in his cup.

Unable to avoid his distaste anymore, he excuses himself from his conversation with the random executives who bothered him ten minutes ago to saunter over to your spot in the banquet hall. “Excuse me, gentleman. I need to speak to Catwoman for a second.”

You barely say goodbye to Jeongin and Yeongbo before Heeseung takes you by the arm and into the hallway of the building. He looks around in rapid motion, and finds an open door to shove the two of you into. The makeshift closet provides enough space for the two of you, but not much.

Heeseung takes the cowl off of his head and throws it to his side, his eyes dark due to more than just the black paint around the upper portion of his face. “Heeseung, what’re you—“

He suddenly knocks you back into the wall of the closet and slams his mouth into yours, his tongue and teeth colliding with yours frantically. Your desire spikes when he palms on of your breasts over your costume, the latex wrinkling under his touch, “Fuck, seeing you with other guys drives me insane.”

You scoff, a smirk on your lips. “Like I was happy to see you talking to Yunjin earlier.”

“Don’t be like that.” His eyes glint with mischief at your response, but it melts into pure sincerity that makes your heart kickflip. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“Likewise.” You nip his lips and knock him down to his knees. Before he can catch his breath, you lower the front zipper at the center of your costume and shrug it off of your arms, revealing the black-lace set covering the places Heeseung knows by heart. “Now touch me.”

“Jesus.” He hooks his thumbs into the sides of your underwear to yank down, careful to not rip the fabric. “Did you plan this or something?” 

“You’re the one that pulled me into this room, baby.”

Heeseung smirks and presses a kiss to the center of your midriff, testing and teasing before going in for the kill. He nuzzles his face against your clit, kissing the bundle with adoration.

In the end, when he first saw you walking over to him at the start of the night, you both had to have known it would end like this, lost in each other and away from the rest of the world’s opinions and influence. Fuck them, Heeseung thinks. If their scrutiny meant he still found himself here, in between your legs and showing you how much you meant to him, he would take every comment with a smile.

“You taste incredible,” Heeseung whispers before passing his tongue against your slick folds, lapping up the wetness like he has never eaten anything better than you. “Just like always.”

“More,” you whisper, putting your hand under his chin to look at you. Even in the low light surrounding the small space, you can see the glint of his lips from your arousal. “I want more of you.”

“As you wish.” He stands up and kisses you deeply. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

He lifts you with ease, his muscles expanding to reveal their form even in his bulky costume. You can’t wait to feel the heat of his skin against yours later when you’re truly alone. It’s never been a one-and-done with him, going many rounds without stopping, whether you had expected it to go that long or not. His sex drive was unstoppable when he was in the mood, and it seemed whenever he was with you, he didn’t have any intentions of slowing down.

By the time he enters you, your body is already welcoming him from the previous foreplay. It makes him hiss with pleasure, the tone low to avoid any strangers  in the hallway from hearing and speculating. You capture his lips with yours, letting the extent of his moan be swallowed by your lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He asks, the whisper as loud as any groan he could emit. He releases one of your breasts from your bra, kneading the skin tenderly. “It’s fucking incredible for me, the way you stretch around me like this.”

“Fuck, you know you’re amazing, Hee.” You scratch your hands down his arms as he thrusts inside of you, the only available skin to take hold of.

“You’re all mine, you know that right?” He captures your eyes with his stare, going slower to punish you until you give him the answer he’s looking for. Fortunately for him, you don’t mind giving him what he wants if he does the same.

“Yes, all yours.” He resumes his original speed, sucking on the skin of your neck to create hickeys only he will know about. He loves to mark you and see your excruciating attempts to cover them up, makeup only going so far before friends and coworkers asked about what had occurred the night before.

If there’s anything as strong as Heeseung’s lust, it’s his pride. And he was as proud as he could be knowing he could claim you so well, even if only the two of you knew about it.

“Hee, I’m gonna come,” you whimper, holding on tighter to reach your end faster.

“Do it baby, let go for me.” He kisses you again to swallow the deep moan that leaves your lips as you come. If only you could shout from the rooftops how good he made you feel. How he was as impeccable as a lover as he was a person, just to make every adoring fan and foe of his envious of your spot in his life.

Your body feels like lead by the time you come down from the high, Heeseung has to hold onto you harder so you don’t crumble onto the floor.

“Hold on tight.” He braces his body with one hand against the wall behind you as his pace speeds up to an exhausting degree. His muscles twitch as he releases inside of you, burying his face in your neck to not let the groan escape his throat. His breath is hot on your skin, but you love the feeling of him so vulnerable as he lets go.

You kiss him quickly when he raises his head, his eyes half-lidded. “For a cat, you didn’t scratch that hard,” he says, lips upturned.

“Fuck off.” Heeseung helps you get dressed again, zipping up the front of your costume for you while you try to wipe away the remnants of your red lipstick from his face to no avail. He’ll have to wipe it off in the bathroom before going back to the party, but you doubt he cares much. “Come to mine after?”

He feels foolish for thinking tonight may be the night to discuss your relationship status, but stranger things have happened. Like the bat and the cat joining forces, per say. He kisses you again before leaving you with, “Of course.”

@seokgyuu @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[lunaritex]

CHASING REDEMPTION. . .ᐟ — kinich.

᱖ content: modern+spiderman au, established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, both reader and kinich are in college, reader knows kinich's true identity, angst with comfort, happy ending dw.

᱖ from hye: ever since i saw this one edit of peter parker jumping down to save gwen… i knew what i had to do, except there is a small twist at the end. @kazuhaiku

Kinich swore he had planned the entire process in his mind. Everything was in place and all he needed was to be mentally and physically prepared to tell you the truth. But no matter how many plans he came up with, he did not take into account how a sudden robbery happened, resulting in him having to leap into action. He did not take into account how the robbery was not what it seems, with the robbers more than prepared to stand their grounds. They were armed with dangerous weapons that one could only obtain through illegal means. 

One thing led to another and he ended up arriving hours later than the agreed time. Kinich arrived at the agreed venue for your date and he was not surprised to spot no sign of you. He pointedly ignored the pitiful look the staff threw his way when he left in a hurry. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he used his spiderwebs to zip across the sky, turning a blind eye to how some people stopped to glance at him. 

It took him exactly five minutes to arrive at the balcony of your apartment. He nimbly landed on his feet, peering through the windows as his eyes furiously scanned your room. He swore his heart shattered when he saw a lump laying on the bed, covered with a blanket from head to toe. 

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

You raised your head when you heard someone knocking on your window, revealing your swollen eyes and tearstained face. You frowned when you realized it was your boyfriend. A part of you wants to leave him outside but you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. Surrendering, you unreluctantly crawled out of bed and moved to the window stand, unlocking the lock and slid it open. Shivers ran down your spine when the freezing wind grazed your skin. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy saving the city or something?” You asked, the sarcasm dripping in your tone made Kinich winced. 

Normally, you would have felt remorse at how you snapped at him but you have had enough. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. You can come back another time-”

“No, I know you’re mad at me and I want to talk about it now,” he interrupted.

And that was the final straw. 

“It’s always all about you, you, you! When have you ever thought about me!? I bet the thought of me sitting in a cafe or restaurant, waiting for my boyfriend for hours, only for him to never turn up has never crossed your mind! Do you know how downright humiliating it is for me to leave and how I have to tolerate the sympathy glances thrown my way, as I walk out of the place? I know you’re doing a good deed by saving the city but sometimes, I wish you could set aside some time for me.” 

Your voice cracked like a whip, startling Kinich into silence. The fire in your eyes was undeniable, a mix of betrayal and exasperation. He tried to respond but you didn’t let him. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It feels like you don’t even care about me anymore and this relationship is starting to feel one-sided,” your voice grew a notch softer, exhaustion evident in your voice; as if you had already given up trying to fight for something that was no longer there anymore. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I think it’s best to end this. Goodbye Kinich and I wish you the best of luck,” you forced a teary-eyed smile at him, sliding the door closed and pulling the curtains, not wanting to see him a second longer. 

Kinich on the other hand, was rendered speechless. He wanted to talk to you again but since it was clear you had cut the line, he had no choice but to respect your decision. After sparing your window one more glance, he zips away into the dark sky. 

~

The next three weeks passed slowly. Both of you were busy preparing for your final exams of the semester. No matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, you just cannot seem to stop thinking about Kinich. Random thoughts like ‘is he doing fine?’, ‘has he eaten?’ and sometimes ‘I hope he’s not hurt again…’. You have not consulted your group of friends about your relationship but judging from how he was not constantly by your side, they already knew what happened. 

Currently, you are heading home after spending hours cramped in the campus library. You were too exhausted to be mindful of your surroundings. You had no idea that you were being followed, until it was too late. 

“Mphmf-!?” 

Your startled shout was instantly muffled when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your sight turned blurry after you accidentally inhaled something. The last thing you heard was a man saying something along the lines of using you as bait for Spiderman, before everything turned black. 

When you regained consciousness, it took all of your willpower to not scream at how you were dangerously dangling in the air. The only thing supporting you was the rope tightly tied around your waist. Your wrists were tied and held behind your back. You didn’t dare try to move about, not wanting the rope to snap into half. You looked around, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense of where you were through the darkness. 

All you could see was long and rectangular-shaped steel bars and you knew you were on a construction site. The pockets of your jeans were empty, meaning your kidnappers must have taken your phone after you were knocked out. There was nothing much you could do, except to play the role of a waiting duck. You sighed, lowering your head to look down at the ground and for a split moment, the thought of death flew through your mind. 

“Look who’s awake? Are you getting anxious that Spiderman isn’t here yet?” A sinister voice pierced through the silence. 

You raised your head to see two armed and masked men approaching you, coming to a stop at the edge. One man has a muscular build while the other man was as thin as a branch. Not wanting them to know they have the upperhand, you merely remained silent and looked at them with a bored expression. 

“I won’t rely on him that much if I were you. I doubt he knows that you guys are waiting for him,” you replied. 

The muscular man laughed. “Hah! Nice try, kid. But we’ve managed to drop him a nice little text using your phone, telling him to meet us here at nine sharp. And if he doesn’t, then I guess you can say bye to that boyfriend of yours.” 

Your blood ran cold at his words. 

“I’m here now, let them go.” 

A familiar voice interrupted your brief conversation. The two men turned around and there he was; Spiderman in his glory. You knew Kinich was seething with rage, judging from how his fists were clenched tightly the moment he was informed that you were held hostage. The men smirked in triumph as they slowly approached him, leaving you there to observe the scene unfold by itself. 

“About time you show up. It’s time for revenge for what you did to my face,” the muscular man said, pointing at his masked face with his thumb as he pulled out a gun. You gulped when you saw how dangerous they looked. 

“I don’t remember doing such a thing to you, but perhaps it might be a good thing for you,” your ex(?) replied, and you would have snickered if not for your current situation. 

“How dare you! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” He roared, enraged and started running full speed at Kinich, with his fellow partner-in-crime hot on his heels. 

From your vantage point, you watched with bated breath, heart racing as Kinich faced off against the two heavily-armed men. The tension crackled in the air, thick and electric. Kinich moved with a mix of agility and determination, dodging a flurry of blows while keeping his focus sharp. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he assessed the situation, calculating his next move.

Each clash of steel rang out, echoing in the stillness around them. The men were imposing, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the light, but Kinich stood his ground, a fierce intensity in his eyes. With every punch and counter, you felt your own pulse quicken. You could only watch, willing him to outsmart his opponents and to emerge from the intense battle unscathed. Just when the fight was about to hit the climax and the two men were on the verge of being defeated, the skinny man turned to you. 

You watched in pure horror as he raised his weapon, aiming at the rope and fired. Whatever happened next was in slow motion. Your vision made an abrupt turn to the right, as gravity took over your body and pulled you down. The high-pitched scream you let out was not enough to describe the pure fear pumping through your veins. You made eye contact with Kinich and you could imagine the look of disbelief mixed with horror behind the mask. 

“Kinich!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs as your body began its descent to the hard concrete ground at lightning speed. Kinich forced himself to move, dodging the poor attempts of the men trying to stop him. Just for good measure, he shot a few webs aimed at their limbs to prevent them from moving. He jumped off the edge without hesitation, reaching out his hand as he tried to grab you. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He shouted, pure desperation heard in his voice. 

With a swift, fluid motion, he shot his web toward you, the silken strands glistening in the air before they wrapped securely around your stomach. Before you could even react, he yanked you towards him, the world spinning as you felt the force of his pull. Just as you landed against him, he swung into the air, the rush of wind whipping past you. Your heart raced as he propelled you both over the danger, each swing taking you away from the chaos below.

He landed gracefully in a safe area, setting you down gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze—eyes fierce yet filled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice, the adrenaline still coursing through him. You nodded, shaken but alive, gratitude swelling within you.

Your entire body was trembling like a fallen leaf. Kinich gently placed you on the ground, still holding you as your legs gave way. You remained still, the adrenaline and fear of experiencing close death still pumping through your veins as he removed the web from your frame, wincing at how some were still stuck on your clothes. None of you said a word after that, unsure of what to say to break the silence. 

“I-”

He wanted to speak, but you threw yourself at him, hugging him with a vice-like grip as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Kinich fumbled about due to your combined weight but he managed to catch himself before he could hit his head against the ground. He removed the gloves and pulled the mask off, placing them on the side as he returned the embrace. Your sniffles and sobs were the only thing occupying the silence and Kinich knew you were beyond terrified of what you had just gone through. 

“Hey, it’s fine now. You’re safe, don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, speaking in a soft and gentle tone as he reassures you. He ran his hand through your hair; an action he knows you love by heart. 

“I was so scared… I thought I was going to die…” You whimpered through your tears as you moved away from him, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Kinich, I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t nice of me, especially when you are doing something good which is saving the city and people,” you apologized, but he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t in the wrong, in fact, it should be me. I shouldn’t have neglected you to the point where you felt like the relationship had become one-sided. I promise you that from now on, I will give you more of my time,” he gave you a small smile, reaching out to wipe away the stray teardrop on your cheek. 

“But, I don’t want to get in the way of your duty,” you protested. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the police can handle the troubles themselves for a day or more.” 

You chuckled and his features softened when he heard your laugh. You flinched when he suddenly carried you bridal-style in his arms after he stuffed his gloves and mask into his pocket. 

“Now that we’re done here, it’s time to go home, shall we?” He asked, looking down at you with a loving smile. 

“Indeed, we shall, Spiderman.”

[yuvany]

#ENHYPEN AS SPIDERMAN

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 spiderman!au

OT7 ENHYPEN x female reader 𝜗𝜚 CONTENT/ WARNING(S) : injuries + unknown identities + fluff + kisses + not proofread :: WORD COUNT:1211. . . CHECK BOX !!

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

One evening you hear the sound of something hitting the glass of your window, and as you make your way there, you see the shadow of a person. You are horrified, realising that you live quite high up. "y/n?" You hear that familiar voice, and you open the window. "Who are you?" You ask defensively, fearing who the person under the red mask might be. Your eyes trail down to a wound that this mysterious person is clutching onto. "Are you evil, or-" you are cut off by the person taking off his mask. "Y/n calm down, it's me." It's Heeseung, and you are speechless. Your mouth hung agape as you try to find the right words to describe what you're thinking. "Explain it all to me while I take care of that." You say, pointing to his wound, and Heeseung jumps inside your room and nods, using his free hand to pull you close by the waist.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

He held you in his arms as the two of you watched the news on the television about the most recent crime. "This is crazy." You comment, and Jay rubs your shoulder with his palm reassuringly, "No need to worry about it, Sweetheart. They said that Spiderman had everything under control." he said proudly, kissing your hair, and you nod along, not knowing that the hero was sat right beside you. Jay suddenly gets a call and as he sees the screen he excuses himself, "Sorry baby, it's urgent." You start to get suspicious of how often these 'emergencies' occur, but let him out of your grasp. You hear how the door doesn't shut, and neither did you notice him walk by. Then, on the news they report that Spiderman had entered the scene again. Now you're suspicious of your boyfriend's real identity since this has been a returning pattern.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗬𝗨𝗡

He was sat on the closed toilet lid, his spiderman suit laying on the floor as you pulled out a medical kit from underneath the faucet. You had it there in case of situations like this. "I'm sorry, baby." Jake apologises, shivers running down his spine due to the cold. "I told you to be more careful, Jake, but I'm glad you're not too badly hurt." You sigh while getting some disinfectant. You turn to your wounded boyfriend, and coat a cotton pad with the disinfectant before slowly patting it on his skin. Jake jolts up with a yelp, but you hold him down by placing your palm on his shoulder. "It's almost done, honey." You whisper as you continue to clean his injuries. He sighs after it's finally over, and you reach for some bandage and wrap it around him. "You know, you scare me when you come home like this." You mutter after a long pause. "I know, and I'll try to better myself for you." He says, his arms wrap around your waist as he gives you a tender kiss.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

"I can't come to dinner, sorry baby." You read his message, feeling the disappointment arise within you. This wasn't the first time he'd cancel last minute, and you hoped he'd give you a reasonable reply to why he couldn't come, but there was never one. With a sigh you answer him, "It's alright." before walking home in your heels, hearing how they echo against the ground. You were so excited for this, but seems like it was all false. You search your bag for your keys, and you start to stress when you can't seem to find them. This day had been a mess, your date was cancelled, and you forgot your keys. You sit down on the stairs and pull out your phone, you want to call Sunghoon, but then you realise that he might be busy. The sun is set and you sit there with your face buried in your palms as you feel someone tap your shoulder. "What is it?" You ask, raising your head to see him there. "I'm sorry, angel." It was Sunghoon in a spiderman suit with a bouquet of flowers. You look him up and down. "What's this, baby?" He rubs the back of his neck and explains that he is Spiderman.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

You wake up in the middle of the night, feeling the cold spot next to you. You start to wonder where Sunoo is. You believe he went to the toilet, but it's been a while by now. You pick up your phone and dial his number, wanting to ask where he was, but you were sent to voicemail. Then you decide to get a glass of water since you were unable to sleep, and maybe search for your boyfriend. You stumble into the kitchen and pour yourself water from the water cooker before dragging yourself to the bathroom. As you shut the door behind you, you hear something fidgeting with the handle of the window. You freeze, and look for something to use in self defence, but the person who crawls in through the thin window is revealed to be a man dressed in a red suit covered in lines resembling spider webs. "What are you doing here?!" You call out, and the man turns around, pulling his mask away. "Sunoo?" You are shocked. "Haha, hey baby!" He laughs awkwardly at being caught.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"I need to tell you something." His voice sounds serious as he sits straight, and naturally, you copy his moves. "What's up?" You feel your palms heat up, and you swallow even though your throat has turned dry. Jungwon takes your hand in his as he rubs circles around your knuckles. The silence is awfully still, and you wish he'd spit whatever he wanna say. "I'm sorry for being so distant recently." He introduces, and you nod with understanding, "No, it's alright, baby." "I'm spiderman." He mumbles, and you raise an eyebrow. "You can't be that Spiderman." You start to wonder if he's joking with you. "Y/n, honey, I'm serious." You hum lowly and recall all the times Jungwon conveniently happened to be gone during a crime scene near by every time. "Are you really telling the truth?" You are still sceptical, but Jungwon eases your worries when he shots webs at the wall opposite of you guys. "So?" "This is unbelievable." Your breathe out..

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You two were watching an action movie together, and you comment on how cool it is that the stuntmen manage to perform such moves, Riki gets envious and blurts out, "I can do that as well, babe." You think he's joking and scoff with a chuckle. "There's no way you can." You nudge him by the shoulder playfully, and see him smirking confidently. "You wanna bet?" He asks, and your smile fades. "Sure." You say, wondering what he'll do, and he lets go of your hand and is now standing in the middle of the living room. You watch him intently with crossed arms. Riki lifts the sleeves of his arms and jump up so that he touches the ceiling with his finger tips, and he stays there, hanging by his fingers. You are wide eyed at this and stand up from your seat. He lets go and you ask him, "Are you Spiderman or something?" with a shocked expression. He only shrugs and smirks sheepily.

[jenctrl]

sunflower danielle marsh

synopsis; the hero's spidey-senses have been tingling all over her body whenever the sunflower girl walks into the room, however, the problem is that she's a sunflower while Y/n feels like a sun that comes and goes /content; spiderwoman!reader, spider verse au, fluff, teenie tiny bit of angst at one point, mentions; violence, firearms and death but all in a light manner /wc; 8.9k

songs; sunflower - post malone, love 119 - riize, out of me head - steve lacy

a/n; my spiderman obsession has been hitting a bit harder lately so...also im thinking miles morales suit for this one

“There’s a fight happening at the park.”

“I am at the park?”

“Aren’t your spidey senses tingling?”

“Shut up–oh…I might have been preoccupied with the—”

“With the tingles Dani causes, yeah, yeah, it’s by the fountain.”

“Oh my god, look it’s a squirrel!” The girl squealed, shaking the latter beside her who pried away the hands that gripped onto her arm with a deep sigh. 

“Yeah, I can see,” Haerin grumbled while fixing her shirt.

“Y/n look–” Her joyous voice came to a halt as she turned around and the said girl was no longer there where she had been. “Where’s Y/n?” This made Haerin turn away from the tree they had stopped by and her eyes scanned the park.

The sun was shining brightly with nothing but a gentle breeze to cool everyone off together with the shadows. 

Danielle walked past Haerin with a frown, thinking she had lost her other friend among the people walking in the park. “It’s not the first time she just disappears.” The latter mumbled and followed after the girl who hummed and took out her phone. 

“I will call her–Wait here just in case.” She looked back and received a simple nod from Haerin who stopped under the shadow of a tree. Her eyes scanned the area before watching the other girl who walked completely engrossed in her phone.

Danielle squinted her eyes, trying to fix her brightness and cover her phone to see anything all while trying to head for the nearest shadow to make life easier for herself.

The second she got it right she looked for the girl’s number which wasn’t hard to find; all while she wondered how Y/n always managed to disappear or get lost so easily.

She was confused, to say the least, seeing how the girl would avoid her at times or trail behind them. Quite often Danielle made sure all of her friends felt included, but as she did so she rarely succeeded in including herself as the centre of Y/n’s attention. However, the few times that she was–

“Watch out!” She looked up from her phone with wide eyes just as she had managed to press call. The sound of the fountain she was near was just a mere background noise that was drowned out when she finally paid attention to her surroundings; realising that a lot more than the chirping of birds and water was sounding around her. 

Danielle yelped at the body that collided with her, shutting her eyes, the phone that was in her hand no longer there. There was a brief swoosh of air, her feet no longer on the ground, but she could feel herself falling until she collided with the same body that grunted right under her. The impact of her fall was muffled only making her breath hitch.

She raised her head from the body whose heart was about to thump right out of its ribcage—still feeling it thrash under her palms, something was buzzing too—Danielle went mute at the person right under her. It was none other than the local hero. 

“Here’s your phone; are you alright?” She took her phone–the call went to voicemail and that faint buzzing stopped–trying to find words but it was close to impossible as her own heart was pounding from the adrenaline the action had caused her. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” She managed to get out, wanting to find the next words to thank her hero correctly, but she yelped once again. “Not the head–” Her body was flipped over, shutting her eyes tightly at the slight impact of her back against hitting the grass, however, her head was well protected by a hand. 

This time she opened her eyes and flinched. “Oh come on!” The hero exclaimed at the object that had been thrown their way, hitting the Spidey’s back.

“Five, six–” Danielle’s mouth was left agape at the hero who did a front handspring over her, “pick up sticks,” and then swung–with web–what was a thick branch, “seven, eight, lay them straight,” before launching it at the group of guys who got hit like bowling pins, some trying to scramble away.

“Why are you always daydreaming!?” Haerin was the one pulling the girl up from the grass and away from the fight scene.

“I’m saved as Y/n/n with a red heart in Dani’s contacts.”

“Great Y/n, but you’re literally in the middle of a fight.”

“She’s so pretty!”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I will be anything for her!”

“It all happened so quickly too!” Danielle exclaimed as they walked through the hallways of the college. The girl was so engulfed in the story she told that nothing else would reach her ears.

“I didn’t even notice the fight and suddenly there’s a commotion happening and one of them was about to crash right into me–one second I’m on the ground, the next I’m lifted from it–Spidey swoops in and saves me!”

“We believe you.” Hanni groaned as the girl wouldn’t stop talking about it.

“That’s not the point,” Danielle whined as she looked over her friends, her eyes momentarily landed on the girl who was trailing after them in the back, Y/n. She sighed and shook her head, looking back at Minji and Hanni who were closest to her.

“The point is that I didn’t even get to thank her.” She reasoned, feeling grateful, but somewhat bummed out that she couldn’t even thank the hero who saved her a few days ago.

“Plus Haerin and Y/n were there at the park with me so I have my proof–” She turned around and stretched out her arms to point at Haerin and Y/n, but ultimately stopped which made the whole group stop. “Where’s Y/n?” Her eyes left the spot where Y/n would be and they moved to Haerin who was about to open her mouth but was cut off by Minji.

“She always disappears into thin air.”

“The same thing happened yesterday when that fight happened,” Danielle mumbled and turned on her heels as they continued to walk through the hallway.

“The cat wouldn’t stop clawing at my arm.” 

Sakura threw a glance at the girl, tilting her head to try and have her at the correct angle as the Y/n hung upside down from the ceiling of their dorm. The curtains were down, the room was dim, lit up by Sakura’s setup who was busy fixing up the small tears in the spider suit. 

“Also!” She clicked her tongue at how loud Y/n got all of a sudden. The older girl hummed and flinched again at the loud clatter, looking over to her side to see the girl standing up from the floor and fixing the bin that got tipped over after the fall. “I’m quite sure Haerin knows…” Y/n finished and chewed on her nails as she walked to Sakura and looked over her shoulder. 

“Knows what?”

“My secret.” Y/n whispered right into her friend's ear which made Sakura press it against her shoulder at how it tickled. 

“She doesn’t.” 

The younger girl stood up straight and stretched her back, “I’m telling you, she knows more than she lets on.” She sighed at the feeling and looked back down at her roommate who turned in the swivel chair. The black with red details suit back to its normal self in her hands.

“You should get some rest,” Sakura suggested, dismissing Y/n’s suspicions while handing the suit over to her. 

The girl hummed. “I asked Yunjin to grab me a coffee on her way back, I’m heading to the public library to print some stickers. I made new designs.” Y/n explained as she moved behind the divider to slip the suit on and have it under her clothes.

“Why not the school’s library?” Sakura questioned as she turned back to her computer. 

“Believe it or not; the librarian has given me a ban.” 

“I believe it whole-heartedly.” She rolled her eyes as Y/n blew a raspberry and grabbed her backpack just as there was a knock on the door.

The girl paid no mind to anyone around her as headphones rested atop her ears, printing the stickers she would leave around the city when swinging around.

It was calm and she hadn’t bothered to return to her friends after disappearing to help out someone’s cat. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to hang out with them, the problem was Danielle. 

Well…Maybe Y/n was the problem because she forgot how to act correctly whenever Danielle smiled at her and just did anything around her. She couldn’t help but get lost in her every single time and it was difficult to keep up with anything else going on around her.

It had become a little problem when danger arose and the star of Y/n’s orbit was around. 

The girl quickly turned around, grabbing hold of the hand that was about to touch her shoulder and her eyes widened. With Danielle’s wrist still in her hold she pulled down her headphones with her free hand before quickly letting go of the latter’s hand. 

“Sorry!” She exclaimed and cowered after as it made people turn their heads in the silent library.

Y/n quickly reached for her phone to pause the music which was sounding through the headphones and looked at the two girls in front of her; Danielle let out a breathless chuckle.

“I tried to call your name at first.” Y/n pursed her lips, feeling how her face felt a lot hotter, not just her face, but her whole body. Was it the suit underneath? No because it never got hot in it.

The sound of the stickers printing was what truly brought her back and her eyes landed on Haerin who was right behind Danielle.

Their eyes met and Y/n felt a twinge of paranoia; both girls squinted their eyes at each other and Y/n’s gaze got a bit more intense almost challenging before Haerin frowned. 

‘Oh no, does she know?’

“Anyway–” Danielle was the one to break the silence and intense…staredown? She had no clue what it was, but it eased as Y/n’s eyes landed on her, making her smile a little bigger than she usually did. “You disappeared earlier.”

“Uhm, my roommate–I took her notes by accident instead of my own.” Y/n came up with a quick lie, nodding along to her words to make them seem more believable. 

“Oh okay, so we were talking earlier and I thought it would be better to ask in person,” Danielle continued to talk to the girl whose eyes were glimmering. Y/n was like water in the latter’s presence; glimmering anytime the sun appeared and warming right up for the whole day. 

‘You should probably be listening, but her hair then her eyes, there’s just something about her… Wow, Sakura would be disappointed at this behaviour.’

“Uh-huh.” Y/n nodded, trying her best to snap back into listening to the girl in front of her.

“We’re heading out on Saturday to this café and then we thought of heading to the movies–”

This time Y/n snapped out of it at the shift around her that made it tingle at the back of her head, the hairs on her neck standing up. As if on queue her phone started buzzing; Sakura. 

The loud sirens that were approaching made the two girls look behind them and by the time they looked back at Y/n all that was left were a few stickers that were still being printed. 

“There’s a car chase, actually headed right towards the public library where you are.”

“I’m telling you Haerin knows–Holy!”

“They drove into the building.”

“I can tell–the zipper of my hoodie is stuck.”

“Just leave it.”

“Right, good idea!”

The loud sound of glass breaking shook up the whole library, shrieks and panicked cries mixed in with the already loud volume of sirens and sizzling of what was a reeking car motor. Amidst the chaos and people trying to evacuate, the course of the tall bookshelves was yelling timber.

It seemed to not warn the two girls right under them quickly enough though. Danielle barely managed to make a sound from the fear, already grasping onto Haerin to try and get away from the falling shelves. However, their sense of orientation was extremely off in a moment of pure distress.

“Ready, quite not steady, and go!” A squeak and a grunt were all that was heard before the numerous thuds of shelves falling like dominos followed, leaving nothing but clouds of dust in the air.

Danielle shut her eyes tightly–unsure if she was dead or alive–while hugging the firm yet somehow comforting body. The wind gushed against her skin and she felt the pull of gravity before her toes felt the ground and she opened her eyes.

“Everything alright?” 

She swallowed, her knees almost giving up from the intensity of the adrenaline, once again being met by the local superhero. However, her eyes fell on the black zip-up hoodie, it was so oddly familiar, that it caused her deja vu and she wondered if a book had hit her head after all. It felt like she had seen it just a second ago, the black hoodie with a few red stars stitched onto it which was half zipped up. She was too shaken up to put a finger on it though. 

“Yeah?” She said, however, she did sound quite unsure as they stood now on the second level of the library by the fire escape staircase. Her eyes trailed up the slightly taller figure, the local Spidey tilted her head in confusion and leaned her face in slightly closer.

“Did anything hit your head?” “She’s fine, let’s go already!” Haerin impatiently complained as she was far too scared to stay any longer in the library after almost dying and then flying through the air. 

She grabbed hold of Danielle’s arm to pull her away, but the latter stopped. “Wait!” She finally came back to her senses and looked at the person who saved her.

The words were right at the tip of her tongue; wanting nothing more than to utter the words thank you. However, Haerin was too impatient as she kept on trying to drag the girl towards the exit that was being held open.

“It’s literally–” Danielle gasped, widening her eyes at the web that was shot at her friend, quite literally gluing her mouth shut and making her stumble.

“Cats don’t talk. It will dissolve in an hour or so, be safe, cya later, alligator…” The hero dove right back to the first level of the library and Danielle watched with a defeated look on her face. 

‘You’re so lame…Okay, but does she know? Dani is so cute though–’ 

“Not the printer!”

“That was so scary.” Danielle let out a breath, finally being able to breathe properly after forgetting to do it correctly due to the shock. Those near-death situations were taking a toll on her and she had yet to thank the person who had saved her each of those times. 

“Ugh, did any get in my hair?” 

She looked away from the distance of the campus grounds where they were sitting on a bench to reflect on what had happened. Her eyes landed on Haerin who hadn’t been pleased at all despite being saved. 

“But also so cool, she’s kind of cute.” The girl mumbled as she shook her head, forgetting what Haerin had asked.

Danielle’s thoughts were swinging through her head with no direction, she was trying to connect the web, but it was quite literally impossible because she had no clue where to start. Nothing made sense.

“First off, nothing cool or cute with what she did to me and second; why are you so obsessed with her?” Haerin complained and angrily leaned back against the bench while taking out her phone to check if she looked fine.

“It’s like white knight syndrome or whatever it’s called.” The younger girl added and put her phone away before looking at her friend who looked right back at her with a frown.

“It’s not, she saved me, I wanted to say thank you,” Danielle argued as she didn’t want anything else from the local hero. Just a small thank you.

“Yeah, but where’s Y/n?” That seemed to be a very common question. 

She parted her lips and looked at the lock screen of her phone; a message popped up right as she did. “I just got a text from her.” It was such a normal occurrence that she learned not to be as worried whenever the girl disappeared because somehow Y/n always ended up fine when she checked back to Danielle. 

She couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t get a little sombre whenever the girl just disappeared. It always made her wonder if Y/n really had emergencies or was looking for ways to escape her.

Has Danielle done something wrong? She sighed and opened the text, but despite those little worries she still smiled.

Danielle looked down at her phone, she had been preoccupied with her thoughts rather than paying the usual attention she would to her friends.

She was expecting a text from Y/n with another excuse because those weren’t unusual just like her leaving. It was hard to figure out what the problem was when Y/n was more of a mystery than anything most of the time. 

Maybe Danielle was reading too much into it?

The little bell above the door jingled, making the conversation stop for a second and Danielle looked up with hope that was nothing but crushed when it wasn’t Y/n.  

“Sorry!” Y/n exclaimed, running through the busy street with people. 

The girl glanced down at her phone, 20 minutes late, it could be worse. It had been a long and busy night, by the time she arrived at the dorm the sun was coming up and by the time she fell asleep her alarm started going off. Y/n had ignored Sakura’s advice to cancel and stay in to sleep; she couldn’t miss the opportunity to be with Danielle. 

She fixed the backpack that was sliding off her shoulder and took the last turn, finally arriving at the door of the café. Y/n stopped for a second, looking inside to see her group of friends already there.

Her eyes stayed fixated on the girl who was the definition of a sunflower the way she always looked at the bright side of things.

Danielle looked less bright this time though.

The girl pushed the door open and made it inside, clearing her throat and gazing towards the floor at the attention it got her. However, she didn’t miss how Danielle smiled towards her when her head turned.

“Sorry for being late.” She apologised like she usually got to do.

“Don’t worry about it, the movie starts in an hour so you have time.” Hanni was the one to speak and Y/n nodded, removing her backpack before trying as casually as possible to take a seat beside Danielle. It was like she forgot how to control her body around the girl, her whole body tingled as she took her seat and took a deep breath. 

She watched the girl that had been late who was now sitting and drinking a second coffee. Well, Danielle was observant, at least when it came to Y/n, she somehow caught on to the small changes in her. It wasn’t hard for her to tell that the girl who was sitting right beside her–their knees occasionally brushing, making them both freeze up–was exhausted. 

She felt a bit too shy to straight up ask if Y/n was fine, especially in front of the rest. The girl cared, but she was worried that it would be too obvious.

How stupid could she be? Y/n was her friend, she shouldn’t feel nervous about asking simple questions, or be nervous around her at all. It wasn’t how she felt around her other friends.

Yeah, Danielle liked to play coy with herself. 

She listened in on the conversation Y/n was having with the rest all while gathering some courage to pull Y/n into a conversation just with her once they would be done. However, she would second guess herself because the girl beside her who was close to falling asleep would always avoid her or just leave with no word. 

“Is the cake good?” It seemed to bring Danielle out of her thoughts, realising that she was overthinking once again. Y/n beat her to it and maybe the girl didn’t mind her in the end. The second Y/n would talk to Danielle she’d forget her worries and feel the jitters spark her up to talk. 

“Oh, yeah…Do you want some?” She asked as she looked down at the piece of cake that she had forgotten about midway because of how she lost herself. 

Y/n nodded her head, forgetting words as she was already stuttering in her body language unsure of what to do. Was she supposed to reach for the cake?

Her eyes watched Danielle who pushed it closer and Y/n was about to reach her hand for the fork, however, the latter beat her to it. Her eyes wandered, trying to look at Danielle who was looking at her, but she only could hold eye contact for a second and not any longer. 

‘Take a bite and act cool…You’re anything, but cool though.’

Y/n had a feeling she would melt from the heat running up to her ears as she let Danielle feed her. The cake was sweet, but Y/n couldn’t help but think about how much sweeter the girl beside her was as she smiled at her.

“I was worried you wouldn’t show up, you know?” Did that mean that Danielle liked having Y/n around? That she noticed when she wasn’t present? It could be a friendly thing though, right? 

‘You’re so bad at reading words.’

“Sorry, I was up studying and missed my alarm.” Y/n lied, she couldn’t tell the girl the truth. She couldn’t tell her that all those times she left her without a word was because she was more than just Y/n; the girl who rode her skateboard into Danielle on the first day of college. 

It made a shiver run across her body; maybe friends were all they should be. Y/n couldn’t provide Danielle with a sun 24/7 because she would always come and go. The girl beside her deserved a sun and more, all Y/n could give was the dust she left behind her every time she disappeared. 

“It’s fine, I’m happy you showed up in the end–” Danielle frowned when Y/n abruptly stood up from her chair, it caught everyone’s attention at the table. 

“Sorry! I have to take this,” she quickly excused herself, not waiting for another word as she grabbed her stuff and was already out the door. 

Danielle felt herself deflate once more as her head started to grasp at any possible straws as to why Y/n always left her behind. 

“There was a robbery at a corner store, he is heading your way right now.”

“Okay…”

“Are you alright?”

“Dani probably deserves better than me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“She deserves someone who can be there for her all the time, I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

What was peaceful yet somewhat gloomy for Danielle only seemed to turn worse when the door to the quiet café burst open. “Everyone get on the ground!” The sight of a man nothing more than paranoid and with a firearm was enough to cause chaos among the customers who ducked to the floor when the man pointed at them. 

“Oh no!” Hanni cried out as the four girls found themselves on the floor, trying to hide under the table and stay out of sight. 

“Shut up,” Minji warned as they had yet to have the gun pointed their way and seeing how the man was paranoid, anything could go wrong. 

“I just bought these jeans.” The shorter girl complained.

“Spider-woman, she’s here somewhere, I saw her!” The man exclaimed, revealing the cause of his paranoia. “I will hurt someone if she tries anything.”

“Am I the only one who finds it weird that–” Haerin tried to say something, only to have Minji cover her mouth, shushing her the same way she had done with Hanni.

Danielle thought she would grow used to it by now, but it wasn’t pleasant this time either when she was in danger. It seemed to be everywhere she went lately and each time she was more worried about Y/n than herself; what if she ran back inside? The man would fire right away, wouldn’t he?

Her eyes scanned around the place, her phone was still atop the table and she tried as subtly as possible to reach for it. It seemed though that Minji was as paranoid as the man with a gun; it was quite valid, but still.

“Stop it, he’s gonna see you.” 

“I need my phone.”

“What for? We’re all about to die.” Minji argued with the girl, trying to pull her back down and under the table where they hadn’t been spotted yet. 

“Oh my God, I don’t wanna die.” Hanni cried. 

“Look at what you did,” Danielle complained, trying to divert Minji’s attention to Hanni who was about to start crying. “I need it to–”

“What’re you two doing!?” Both girls flinched and tried to retreat right back to cower away from the man. Haerin clicked her tongue at Hanni who was close to climbing onto her to try and hide.

“Nothing good sir!” Minji squeaked out, widening her eyes as he made his way towards them.

“Throw your phones away.” He ordered them, Hanni and Minji were the first ones to slide their phones over to the man's feet. 

“You two, your phones.” Haerin was next when he pointed the firearm her way, but Danielle was stubborn. All she wanted to do was send a text to warn the girl who could show up any second. 

“Give him the damn phone.” They bickered, trying to pry it away from her hold. 

“Noo.” She whined, but it got snatched by none other than the man himself who tossed it to the side. 

“You.” “Me?” Minji pointed at herself when he pointed at her. “Get up.” 

“Well, I think I'd rather sit here and–” “I said get up!” Her arm got grabbed, her other arm slipping out of Hanni’s grasp who was still hiding behind Haerin.

“Okay, but you’re actually hurting my arm.” Minji pointed out, pointing at the hand that was gripping her arm quite tightly. 

“Are you all making fun of me!?” The man snapped and another wave of panicked gasps and cries echoed through the café when the firearm was pointed right at the girl; holding her at gunpoint. 

Danielle tried to look for a rational solution to this. Where were the cops? She looked around while her friends tried to reason with the criminal. Minji looked like she was about to pass out. 

Where was Spider-woman?

For whatever reason, she looked up with a frown and got her answer when she saw the figure through the closed ventilation. She blinked at the gesture of the hero who was signalling. Danielle got it.

“Knock knock.” The man snapped his head up at the ventilation right above him at the voice. 

“Who’s there, I will shoot!” 

“Your friendly neighbourhood spider-woman,” yet again, screams followed as the vent fell out and a gunshot followed, hitting the ceiling. Danielle quickly got up and grabbed hold of Minji’s arm, pulling her away while the hero tackled the man right to the ground.

The four girls watched the hero who saved the day once again swing away and disappear between the buildings. As they fell into chatter about what had happened while the cops handled the rest of the situation, Danielle finally got to open her messages with Y/n. It had been a while since she left.

“Hey–” She didn’t manage to even start the text and looked right back up, seeing the girl running towards them. “What happened?” Hanni was the first one to jump right into explaining what happened as if she hadn’t cried through the whole scene.

“How about we just watch a movie at our dorm?” Minji suggested, offering hers and Hanni’s dorm after what happened. 

“Are you alright?” Y/n walked over to Danielle as they all started heading back to college grounds, knowing very well what had gone down in the café the second she left. She still wanted to make sure that Dani was alright. 

Danielle hummed and gave Y/n a smile. “Yeah,” she chuckled and looked over the girl’s face who still looked just as tired. She smiled a little bigger at the genuine worry Y/n’s face held. “You’re lucky.” She commented.

“I am?” Y/n questioned, getting another hum, watching the way Danielle gave her a nod of affirmation with it. Her breath got caught in her throat when she felt Danielle’s fingers brush against hers. 

‘Hold her hand, just take it into yours like they do in movies…’ 

Y/n glanced down at the girl’s hand–their friends not paying them any mind as they walked in front of them–they were so close and all she wanted to do was hold Dani’s hand. 

“Yeah, it’s like you sense danger, the way you disappear when something bad is about to happen.” Y/n let out a small laugh at the words that reminded her of why she had disappeared and remembered what she had come to realise right before it.

“I think Sakura is the one who can sense it since she called.” 

Danielle twisted her lips, trying to keep up her smile as she glanced down–wanting to hold Y/n’s hand–and Y/n put her hands in the pockets of her jeans. 

“You did miss Spiderwoman though.” She joked, trying to lighten up her heart which seemed to get a little dull. 

“So…Somewhere between lucky and unlucky.” Danielle smiled, shaking her head, Y/n still managed to brighten up everything for her. 

Danielle hadn’t been expecting much to come out of sitting and watching movies in Minji and Hanni’s cramped dorm. It was cosy, to say the least, but she was still too busy thinking about the girl beside her. 

Could she even call them mixed signals? 

Dani felt time stop for a few seconds, her heart stalled as she tensed up. She tried to move as little as possible as she was sitting on the bed with the girl whose head was now on her shoulder. It wasn’t weird, she would lend her shoulder to all her friends, that’s just how she was, but having Y/n’s head drop onto her shoulder felt different and she was aware. 

Painfully aware.

She glanced down at the girl who was asleep, carefully moving her hand over to Y/n’s which was resting beside her leg. Danielle gently ran her fingers over the girl’s arm which was covered by a hoodie.

She smiled when she got to the girl’s hand, tracing her thumb over Y/n’s soft palm before she pulled the sleeve of the hoodie down further and took her hand into her lap; she did get to hold her hand in the end. 

All Danielle needed to do now was just find the opportunity to talk to Y/n.

After a day that had felt dragged out attending classes, Y/n found herself away from campus. The ground under her vibrated as yet another train passed by, sitting right under the subway tracks where the old and quite abandoned skatepark was.

It had been a while since she last had time to enjoy it and mess around on her board, however during one of her classes with Dani the girl had asked her if they could spend time alone.

Of course, Y/n had concluded that a crush was all that Danielle would ever be to her and she would never become more. How could she become more if Y/n couldn’t even start by giving her enough now? 

It didn’t mean that she wouldn’t spend time with her, especially since just the thought of Dani made Y/n smile which was something she always needed in her world.

Who would have thought that being the local superhero could turn so gloomy at times? She loved it, but it took away a lot, especially the people around her and holding a secret this big could almost feel like a heavy burden on her shoulders. 

She glanced at her phone, bobbing her head along to the song that played through the speakers of her headphones. The girl had arrived earlier to skate before Danielle would arrive and the latter should be there soon enough unless she had missed her train. 

However, nothing could go as planned for Y/n when her music was interrupted by a call from Sakura.

“There have been disruptions between the control centre and the incoming subway train after the ropes snapped on the crane causing girders to fall right atop the tracks, Y/n.”

“Is it really that–Wait, is it the train that stops near the campus?”

“Exactly that one and it will fly right off the rails in a few minutes.”

“Dani is on that train.”

Danielle flinched at the sudden and loud thud that made her look up from her phone, eyes widening at the familiar figure that clung onto the side of the train, staring right at her through the window.

She was confused, watching the spider crawl up and disappear and suddenly her heart rate spiked up. 

Of course, Spider-Woman was nothing but good, but if she suddenly appeared, it could only mean that something was wrong. Not only did she appear out of nowhere, but quite literally halfway changed with a hoodie, shorts, and sneakers still on with the suit under the regular clothes. 

How bad was it?

Danielle got her answer the second the train screeched, making her grab hold of the pole she stood beside to not fly right onto the floor at the abrupt stop. It was still rolling, trying to stop, screeching and making people fall into panicked chatter, trying to figure out what was going on.

Something made the air shake from what sounded like an explosion. 

It all turned into those familiar gasps and distressed shouts as everyone was growing scared; Danielle included when the railway vehicle finally came to a stop but with a loud crash and suddenly the wagon was starting to tip over, tilting forward. As far as Dani was concerned the subway didn’t go downhill, especially not at a steep angle like this was starting slowly to become. 

It had stopped, but it was gradually with intervals tilting or more so falling more and more. Danielle quickly moved over to the windows, grabbing hold of another pole to try and get a peek at what was going on. 

“The whole crane exploded and the bridge!”

“Are you handling it? This is probably something more than just an accident.” 

“I’m trying to prevent the operator cab from falling off and dragging the rest of the wagons with it–people need to start evacuating from the back exit.”

Watching the front of the train hang in the air, supported by multiple webs that connected to the other end of the bridge, looked far from right. It wasn’t right as she watched the hero shoot more strings to hold it all up.

She could barely see through the thick black clouds of smoke that were coating the air around it from the fire under it. 

“Everyone, evacuate through the last wagon, firefighters are waiting!” That was all she caught before people started to pile up to get to the back. They were quite literally in the third wagon–the second was out of service, the first one off the rails. 

Danielle got bumped into as she was about to do the same, her frame being pushed the wrong way and the subway train dropped yet again, making her stumble back and onto the hard floor with a yelp. The angle would become steep any second now and she wouldn’t be able to make it out at all.

Oh was she going to die such a pathetic death?

No way, she still had to talk to Y/n, may that thought be what saved her as yet another explosion followed with terrified screams. 

“Give me a break.” She groaned in annoyance and pulled herself up on her feet, watching people running out of the wagon she was in and disappear, heading towards the end of the tail.

Clearly, not everyone could be called a hero after no one had even considered helping her up. Bitterly she was back up on her feet, holding onto whatever she could to make it easier to walk up the acute angle. 

It wasn’t too bad yet, but she felt heat run across her spine because it couldn’t be good for too long. Lately, it has been anything but good, but she tried to look on the bright side, if she got out she would finally be able to talk to Y/n; she has waited a week now to gather the courage.

It wasn’t good, but it could be worse, couldn’t it?

Danielle ran, whatever was happening behind her didn’t sound good at all and it felt like she was running on a treadmill whose incline constantly went up. Exhaustion was starting to take over and her legs burned, praying that she wouldn’t slip because if she went down now, there was no going back. 

Nope! She probably jinxed herself.

Something snapped–the webs–and it was free fall from there, right back to where she came from. She tried to grab onto something, but her feet didn’t slip, however, her hands did as she missed the next pole, only touching it with her fingertips.

A shriek escaped her lips and no thoughts were left in her head, vividly aware of there being no point as nothing mattered anymore if she was falling to her death anyway.

“Incy Wincy Spider climbed up the rails!” Her body was caught and she huffed, tightly wrapping her arms around the shoulders. “Down goes the train!” Only hearing the webs shoot out before they were launched up, a loud crash followed with another explosion after them and she didn’t dare to open her eyes because she couldn’t tell if she was alive or dreaming after feeling a wave of heat hit her too. 

The air around her swooshed, sirens, screams and it was all growing faint as an arm wrapped around her waist. She slowly dared to open her eyes, she was far from the ground and it made her grip tighten. 

Dani however trusted the person who held her, trusting her not to let her fall as she hadn’t let her fall with the train she saw down below; it had fallen off the tracks, going up in flames with everything else. The Spidey who was holding onto her kept humming the nursery rhyme she had tweaked earlier.

She inhaled deeply at the pull of gravity with her eyes closed, she only opened them once she felt the ground under her feet.

“You’re all safe now.” Danielle carefully stepped back, looking around to see that she was at the top of a building. Her eyes fell back on the girl in front of her before she could disappear.

“The door is unlocked and you can just head down.” She looked where the door was and snapped her head back at the footsteps.

There was still something she wanted to do, something she had wanted to do for a while now and she’s simply never had the chance. Spider-woman lived a fast-paced life, but Dani was sure she could make some time for her, at least for a few minutes.

“Wait!” She exclaimed and grabbed onto the girl’s wrist who had turned around to run off. It made Spidey turn back around on her heels with a hum, tilting her head at Danielle. She let go and took a breath before swallowing to make room for the words.

“Thank you.” Danielle finally managed to get out and let out a breathless chuckle at the finger-guns pointed at her as the hero slowly backed up. This was it.

“Of course, I’m your friendly neighbourhood–”

“Thank you for always looking out for me, Y/n.” Dani added and inhaled deeply, balling up her fists before she relaxed, releasing that breath she took. 

“What?”

“I know you’re under the mask, Y/n,” Danielle stated, her tone firm yet she felt it all shaking up inside her. 

The hero let out a little chuckle. “What if I’m not actually under the mask? Won’t it be embarrassing for you if you are wrong?

She let out a breath, a hopeless chuckle and maybe she couldn’t get Y/n to trust her. 

“Y/n, I’ve been sure about it for the past week,” the signs were all there laid out in front of her this whole time, they had been especially clear these past few weeks.

The time in the park when a phone was buzzing and stopped the second Dani’s call to Y/n ended. 

The hoodie in the library, Y/n had the same hoodie on her before disappearing, Danielle had seen the girl wear it on multiple occasions before too. Sakura had helped her patch those stars onto it; Y/n would never shut up about it and Dani loved watching her happily boast about her roommate.

The rhymes, the ‘cya later alligator’ and the lame but somehow endearing and cute actions and words she only knew Y/n for. 

Simply the fact that Y/n always disappeared whenever crime took place. Hell, she had never seen Spider-woman and Y/n in the same room and considering how often she was with Y/n it would have happened by now. 

The Saturday after what happened at the café when they went to watch movies at their friends' dorm. That was the night her suspicions got confirmed when she saw the suit peek out from Y/n’s hoodie, making Danielle cover it for her so no one else would see. 

Everything was in front of her now as the Spider-woman was wearing Y/n’s clothes over the suit. 

Dani watched the way Spider-woman, Y/n, slumped her shoulders and looked down. 

“Dani–” Y/n tried, but was cut off by the latter. 

She was feeling vulnerable, everything she had tried to prevent from happening was happening. Y/n was supposed to leave Danielle behind, but now she knew about her biggest secret. She was letting her into parts of her life she hadn’t let anyone else into except her roommate. 

“I just wish you trusted me the same way I trust you and wouldn’t put a distance between us.” She let out, jutting out her lower lip as she frowned, her deep breaths mixing with the wind that howled in her ears. 

“I don’t put a distance between us, Dani.” Y/n tried to argue, but she knew very well how many miles she had put between them. From the secrets to the lies, all the way to all the things she had done to try and avoid letting Danielle in too close. She couldn’t do it to the girl, she couldn’t let her into a place she would never stay in because Y/n would always come and go.

That was her life as the friendly neighbourhood Spider-woman.

“But you do and I don’t understand why…You won’t even take off your mask!” She raised her voice in desperation as she refused to let Y/n close the door on her.

Dani never cared about Y/n staying, all she cared about was being let inside so Y/n would have someone to come back to once she did. She had come to the realisation–after figuring out the girl’s secret identity–that Y/n would always leave, but she’d also always come back.

If only she had let Danielle know why she always left in the first place then they wouldn’t be in this position.

Y/n huffed and pulled the mask off of her face, using her sleeve to wipe away the tears that had formed from the intensity of the moment as so much had just happened.

All she could do now was make Danielle understand just why she put a distance between them; explain why she distanced herself from most people. How her life was miserable without the people closest to her, but how she still couldn’t be as close as she wanted with them. 

How Dani deserved way better than her.

Y/n bunched up the mask in her fist, she loved it, she loved it all, but she hated so many parts of it. She hated that to save the lives of people, she had to hurt the people she loved the most by disappointing them. 

“You know it's like when my spidey senses are tingling but the difference is that you cause more than a micro shift when you step in a room and it causes my whole body to tingle.” Y/n at last confessed, the words bursting out of her as she threw her arms up. It made her pace back and forth at the frustrations of having so much to give, but not being able to. 

“I feel so hopeless because you’re the sunshine, a sunflower always looking towards the bright and I try to do that but my world isn't as bright.” She continued, refusing to look at Danielle as she stopped and glared down at the roof under her feet.

Y/n’s body deflated like a balloon, feeling all those pent-up emotions of anger disappear and the sadness of the situation wash over her instead.

“It’s full of danger, it’s full of uncertainty about tomorrow, it can turn gloomy on the brightest days, it’s a burden I love and hate carrying. It isn’t something you deserve, something anyone close to me deserves.” Y/n sighed and all she felt like doing was crying as she knew that it was over from here.

“I will never be able to just be there, I will always appear and disappear.”

Danielle would understand the reality of Y/n’s life and leave her behind before Y/n could do it; not like she would be able to do it, but the sunflower would turn away from the sun that never stayed, and find one that would always be there. 

“Dani, you deserve better than me.” Y/n widened her eyes and looked up in panic. “Oh my god do you even like me like that!?” It would be embarrassing if she had just assumed that Danielle wanted to be more than friends. Even if they would only be friends, Y/n still needed her to understand why the distance was needed.  

Danielle chuckled, watching the girl who almost jumped at the sheer panic. She heard every word Y/n told her and instead of them pushing her away, they made her want to step so much closer to her. It made her realise how much Y/n needed someone and she wanted to be that someone simply because it was Y/n. 

“You don’t even realise what you’re saying.” The girl stated as she made it in front of Y/n and grabbed hold of her hands. Dani looked down at the mask clutched in the gloved hand, the mask of far more responsibility than one person could carry alone. 

“What?” Y/n looked at the girl who she viewed as a sunflower, feeling the warmth swallow her ears when Danielle looked up and met her eyes.

Under the sun, her eyes glimmered, with the wind her curls gently moved and with the smile that plastered itself on her lips Y/n’s whole world lit up and it always made everything feel easier. 

“A sunflower?” Danielle questioned with a breathless chuckle, her thumbs caressing Y/n’s hands. 

“Yes…” She mumbled, glancing away as she was worried that Dani would find the comparison stupid. 

“I look towards the bright, I look at you and get warm, feel a smile form, Y/n. Why on earth would I ever not like you back? If I’m a sunflower then you’re the sun I turn towards.”

Yeah, Danielle’s whole body was fuzzy and maybe her fingers would tremble from the nerves if she didn’t hold onto Y/n, but she dwelled on the feeling as she watched Y/n with a fond smile. The girl simply made her feel warm and bright just by being there. 

It made her burdens disappear, she only wanted Y/n to feel the same way. 

“You’re exactly what I deserve and want and you deserve to have someone there for you too. I can’t let you carry it all alone. So what if you leave? So does the sun in the sky.” She glanced towards the said sun with her eyes squinted, tightening her grip on Y/n.

Danielle was ready to risk it all for Y/n because she was all that she wanted. It was scary, she had to admit that it was, Y/n was right, tomorrow was unknown and it was terrifying but she knew what she wanted at the moment and that was where she lived, only worrying about what was now. She could worry about the unknown future when it would come. 

“You deserve someone who will be there when you come back and I want to be that home for you, Y/n.” 

Y/n had no words; she hadn’t been expecting things to turn out this way at all. She had expected Danielle to leave her, to be a sun with nothing to warm up.

Her ears were muffled, her face felt hot, her heart beat up in her ears and she could feel those tingles running all over her body again, feeling the shift in her that the girl in front of her always caused.

Suddenly she felt like the bee that was drawn to the sunflower because the warmth it gathered had been just what Y/n needed without realising. Luckily she had Dani to realise it for her. 

The girl huffed when Y/n crashed into her, hugging her close. Danielle wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, resting her cheek against the taller girl’s shoulder.

The loud thumping of Y/n’s heart matched hers and she smiled, closing her eyes as she could remember how it sounded the same that day in the park. They were tangled up together, but tangled together in webs of love with their hearts. 

“Thank you, Dani.” She mumbled. 

The girl was everything that she had imagined and so much more as she turned out to be something that Y/n also needed. Most importantly, Y/n–not spider-woman–but Y/n was someone that was needed beyond her secret identity, someone who Danielle wanted and needed there. 

“I’m always here.” She reassured Y/n as they pulled back, she bit her lower lip at the blush on Y/n’s cheeks who exhaled deeply before looking at her seriously. However, Dani’s silly superhero couldn’t keep her composure as she covered her face with her gloved hands, letting out an almost inaudible squeal.

“It’s official then!” Danielle hummed, tilting her head and Y/n peeked out from between her fingers. 

“You’re my girlfriend.” 

“Oh? Just like that?” She questioned with a laugh at the statement, seeing that she hadn’t been left with another choice as Y/n finally showed her flushed face with that big smile. 

“Yes, it’s not even up for discussion–” Y/n firmly stated as she put the mask back on, stepping back she pointed at Danielle with finger guns once again. “I will go and figure out whatever it was that happened and meet you at the dorms.” 

She giggled, nodding at Y/n words, watching the girl who was turning around, but she stopped just as she was going to run off. 

“Wait, wait, can we just—what if…” Y/n stuttered, turning back around on her heels, she cleared her throat and rubbed at the back of her neck. “We kiss.” She tried to suggest as casually as possible with a shrug, letting her hand fall. 

“If you want to.” 

“Yes, I'd love to.” 

Danielle shook her head as Y/n didn’t move from her spot, so she took it upon herself after seeing the girl glued to her spot. She looked up at Y/n who hadn’t even started to lift the mask.

“You’re such a goof,” Dani stated and reached up, pulling Y/n’s mask up above her nose before cupping her face and leaning in as she stood on her toes, finally feeling Y/n move and hold onto her waist.

‘Oh my, about to faint, Dani is going to kiss you, you’re about to kiss–!!!!!!!!!!!’

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝙞 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. stepping into your early twenties you move to live on your own. A couple months later you're surprised when family man Miguel O'Hara moves next door. How do you manage to get this sex symbol into your sheets?

wc . 7,625

tags . miguel o hara x reader.miguel o hara x reader smut. all characters are 18+ years old. alternative au. non spiderman au. family man Miguel. dad Miguel. husband Miguel. swearing, cunnilingus, praise kink, blowjobs, phone sex, masturbation, shower sex, squirting. age gap. 18+ mdni!

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆

���ᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : your girl by lana del rey

0:57 ————|——— -2:10

° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

June 21st

You remember it clear as day. June 21st when they moved in. You’d just come back from practice and you were about to head downstairs to check for any mail when you saw it go down. The moving van pulled onto the street, tailed by a red family-sized car. Curiously you peer out of your bedroom window. Out stepped a tan middle-aged woman in a floral sun dress and a woven hat. A girl with her hair in pigtails and a lollipop in her sticky little hands. Then came him.

Him in all his beautiful glory. Him in his staggering height and muscular frame. His hair dark, curly, unruly falls against his well-defined cheekbones and, further highlighting his strong jawline. Just his appearance alone has put you in a trance, you’re glued to your window and you daren’t leave until he disappears from your sight. Even the way in which he moves speaks volumes about the silent authority that he carries.

July 1st

Temperatures rise gradually, and clothes get skimpier, at least yours do. But it’s all part of your plan. With a couple of failed attempts at making cookies, you’d finally nailed it, once your friend did it for you. You arrange them neatly on a plate, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that questions your motives. But you’ve already decided, and there is no turning back now. You let yourself in by opening his front gate, before closing it behind you, walking down the grassy lawn and in front of his door. The soft click of it closing behind you sounds like a finality as if crossing an invisible line.

You can feel your heart in your mouth. Tempering with a family man, you were up to no good, but you can’t help that you wanna have a little fun and see what you can do. A couple knocks on their door and you don’t wait long before the door opens, revealing the little girl and woman previously.

Fuck. Not who you wanted to see.

“Hi.” you greet cheerfully, hiding your disappointment behind a friendly facade. “I’ve noticed you guys have moved in next door, I’m Y/N and I wanted to give you these cookies as a welcome gift.” The woman smiles a warm smile in gratefulness and her child seems to be eagerly staring the plate of goodies down.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate this, It’s so nice to see a friendly face out here.” she chuckles, pulling her child’s head close to her and stroking her dark hair.

You nod, your smile widening as you make small talk, though your mind is still on him. “It’s hard to get these guys to open up, takes a while, but I didn’t want y’all to have a bad impression of the area and I'm sure you’ll all love it here. Especially you.” you say, pointing to the child, who shyly turns away from you.

“Gabriel saluda a la simpática dama.” her mother gently prompts her and the little girl mutters a quiet welcome. For a brief moment, guilt twists in your stomach. This woman, her child—they’re kind and welcoming, and they see you as nothing more than a friendly neighbour. But the guilt is fleeting, replaced by a sense of determination. He’s set, devoted, maybe—but how devoted?

“She’s so precious.” you coo.

Sure, part of you feels bad, the man has a wife and a kid. He’s set and devoted, but you want to test the waters and see how devoted he is. So when they invite you to a barbeque night for the 4th, you seize your chance. Because while part of you knows this might be wrong, another part of you is already imagining what might happen if he looks at you just a little too long, if his smile lingers just a little too much.

The game has begun, and you’re ready to see just how far you can push it.

4th July.

The day tumbles into night dragging along its excitement and heat of the sun-soaked hours before into the darkening, night. Dense smoke from the barbecue rises slowly, curling and rolling into the night sky, wrapping itself around the gathering like a veil. It’s almost as if a hazy filter has been cast over the whole series of event, from the moment you step foot into their garden to the moment he offers you a drink. You can feel it—this strange, heady mix of anticipation and tension His significantly larger hand over the cool glass bottle, mimicking your cold sweat.

You take the drink from him, swinging it to your lips, feeling some of it trickle past your mouth and down your chin. A practised thumb swipes over it as your eyes reunite with his. “Thanks for introducing yourself to my wife. ” he thanks you, breaking the silence between the both of you- finally. “She really appreciates it and she’s glad you pointed out places for our Gabriel to play.” he finishes, eyes pulling away from the distance and back down to you.

“It’s nothing, don’t think anything of it.” now it’s your turn to look off into the distance, soaking in the scenery of others gathered near the table of roasted food. Their laughter mingling with the music that drifts from the speakers filling up the night. You’re unsure of when, but there is an eager flame dancing in a corner, adding a subconscious thrill to this gathering. The couple seem to have invited friends and family members and you start to feel a little out of place, like a fish out of water.

“Didn’t catch you name by the way?” he asks, widening his current stance, flexible in the subconscious hierarchy.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re always welcome here, drop by if you need anything, we’d love seeing your face around.” perhaps it’s pure delusion or mere obsession with fantasy, but the tonality of his voice is hinting towards something. Towards something deeper and secretive than what the world has to know. Before you can thank him for his kind gesture, you’re interrupted by Gabriel running towards her father screaming “Daddy!”, and hugging his leg fondly.

Of course. You remember your place in this scenario. You’re simply their neighbour, nothing more, nothing less. You see it in his eyes as he bends down to pick up his daughter, his expression softening as he sways with her in his arms. He apologises to you, saying he has to leave for a moment. And you're alone again, placing the bottle to your lips once more.

And your heart shifts uncomfortably when the couple stands together to make an announcement, his arm wrapped around her waist comfortably,of course. As if she belongs there, and she does. You see where you stand in this.

10th July

You like to keep yourself busy when you aren’t drowned in school work, practising or doing your

part-time job and you accomplish that by journeys to the club with your friend, never intending to stay long or do anything of an impact, so this night when a new fellow accompanies you back home, you’re left with the tough decision of rejecting his advances.

“I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. “ you explain, leaning against your car, not entertaining his attempts.

“Well I can be quick baby, in and out.” he pleads, his voice slurring slightly as he leans closer, his hand resting on the hood of your car. The stench of alcohol clings to him, and you can tell by the way he’s using your car as a crutch that he’s far too intoxicated to be thinking straight. You sigh inwardly, already knowing this is going nowhere.

“I don’t like sloppy hurried work, I’d want for you to take care with me.” You explain, glancing at your nails bored, waiting for him to tire himself out and head home, so you can head to bed.

“I won’t be sloppy baby, promiseee.” he whines, his voice taking on a childlike quality that makes your skin crawl. The desperation in his tone only solidifies your resolve. This is exactly why you’re drawn to older men—men who know what they want and don’t need to beg or plead for attention. Men like him.

Almost as if on cue, out walks the man, his hair failing in front of his fair, this time much more unkept and messier than usual. Curious eyes observe his frame hidden under the loose-fitting shirt he’s wearing. The sound of the guy next to you complaining and begging again perks his attention and when he lifts his head to peak at the commotion he makes eye contact with you. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that he’s seen you, that he’s aware of your presence even in this awkward situation. your focus is elsewhere now, on the man who just drove away, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing. The night suddenly feels colder, and emptier, as you watch his taillights disappear into the distance.

23rd July

Blue skies overhead and the sun pressing down on you heavily, aggressively biting into your skin. The sun beats down relentlessly, turning your skin warm to the touch and making the air shimmer with heat. Your friends and you have hosted a pool party, to cool off and catch up. So you’re wearing your strappy swimsuit when you realise that your hose won’t turn or budge. You try with all your might but to no avail. No matter how much you twist and pull, the stubborn thing won’t budge. You put your full weight into it, your muscles straining as you give it another try, but it’s no use. The hose refuses to cooperate. Only one thing left to do.

You find yourself in front of your neighbours’ door, this time in a two piece piece swimsuit, that seems to hug you in all the right places, and the colour makes your features pop even more. You spend a couple of quick seconds adjusting the fabric only your body as finalising touches and fixing your hair, before lightly knocking on the door. It doesn’t take long before the door swings open wide, revealing a shirtless Miguel.

Bingo.

His broad chest glistens slightly with a sheen of sweat, and for a moment, you lose your train of thought. You flash a charming smile, “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help with my hose?” you ask, your voice sweet and innocent, leaving the question hanging in the air. You can see the moment he registers your outfit, his eyes widening slightly before they travel slowly over your body, taking in every detail. It takes him a few seconds to pull his gaze back up to your eyes, and when he does, he leans casually against the doorframe, trying to play it cool.

“What hose?” he asks, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“The hose in my backyard,” you explain, your tone light. “I need it to fill up my pool.”

“Your pool huh?” his eyes keep drifting all over, he’s clearly distracted and your plan is set in motion.

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning a bit of helplessness. “I’m having a pool party with my friends, but I can’t seem to get the hose to turn on.” You pout slightly, batting your lashes at him, hoping to nudge him into coming over, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

“I can help you turn it on.”

“Great!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together, a smile on your face. You lead him to your back garden and the short journey there is filled with silence. He makes his way over the knob of the hose, effortlessly twisting it successfully, however, no water comes out.

“Oh no. Is the water broken?” you ask, lightly shaking the hose in hopes of getting a trickle of water to emerge.

“It probably needs a minute.” he explains, staring at the green hose in your hands in anticipation. The two of you wait the minute, patiently waiting for any spurts of water, but nothing.

“I guess, my water system’s broke. I’ll just call the-”

“I can help you. It’ll only take a minute, it may just be a connection issue, no need to ring them up.”

“Really? Thank you.” you gasp, ecstatic. You exaggerate your relief, letting it show in your eyes, hoping to make yourself seem more appealing, more in need of his help. Now, he’s in your territory, your domain, and you’re determined to make the most of it.

He nods and asks you to lead him to your kitchen sink. He crouches down on the ground and opens the cupboards, hands going into the darkness searching for something.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” you ask him casually, but he refuses, saying he’ll be in and out. To your disappointment. But even as he works, you can’t help but notice the little things—the way his brow furrows in concentration, the way his fingers move with precision as he checks the pipes.

Minutes pass, and though you try to make small talk, he remains focused, determined to fix the problem. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he emerges from beneath the sink, wiping his hands on a rag.

“There, that should do it,” he says, standing up and giving you a satisfied grin.

You walk back outside with him, feeling a little defeated, but as he tests the hose one more time, water suddenly gushes out, splashing onto the ground with a force that catches you off guard. You can’t help but laugh in surprise, the sound is bright and genuine.

“Well, I guess I owe you one,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just doing my job as a good neighbor.”

But there’s something in the way he says it, in the lingering look he gives you, that makes you think this might not be the last time you find yourself needing his help.

2nd August

The days stretch on, each one hotter than the last, as the relentless sun beats down from a sky that’s perpetually clear, leaving the air thick with humidity. The heat has sapped the energy out of most people, turning every movement into an effort and leaving them sluggish, sticky, and desperate for relief. Miguel, too, feels the weight of the summer pressing down on him, the heat wrapping around him like a heavy blanket as he decides to spend his afternoon lounging on the chair in front of his house.

He’s settled in with a cold beer, the bottle sweating in his grip as he takes a long, slow sip, savouring the coolness against his lips. The golden sunlight bathes his skin, and for a moment, he lets himself relax, trying to enjoy the simple pleasure of the day. He’s asked his family to give him some space, just an hour or so to himself, away from the noise and the demands of the household. But even as he reclines back, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, he can’t seem to shake the feeling of restlessness that’s creeping in.

The heat is relentless, and the boredom is worse. The occasional car zips by, blasting music that fades as quickly as it comes, leaving him alone with the sound of his own thoughts and the distant hum of cicadas. Irritated, Miguel lifts his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that might alleviate the discomfort. The overstimulation of the day—the brightness, the heat, the monotonous sounds—is getting to him, and he’s on the verge of retreating inside when something catches his eye.

His gaze drifts across the yard, past the sidewalk, and up to the window of the house next door—your window. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you there, your bedroom window wide open, allowing the summer breeze to flow in and caress your skin. You’re standing in the middle of the room, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, and you’re slowly, deliberately, peeling off your clothes. One item at a time.

Miguel’s grip on the beer bottle tightens as he watches, his heart beating a little faster. You’re completely unaware of his gaze, lost in your own world as you remove each piece of clothing with a languid, almost sensual grace. Your movements are slow, unhurried as if you’re savouring the act of shedding the layers, of freeing yourself from the constriction of fabric. Each piece falls to the floor in a soft heap, and with every discarded item, more of your skin is revealed, glowing in the warm light.

He’s hooked, his eyes fixed on you, unable to look away. There’s something hypnotic about the way you move, the way you seem to bask in the sunlight pouring through your window, your eyes closed in what looks like pure bliss. It’s as if you’re performing a private dance, one meant only for yourself, and yet here he is, captivated by every second of it. The way you twirl in front of the mirror, the sunlight catching on the curves of your body, makes his pulse quicken. He watches, entranced, as you take a moment to admire your reflection, your fingers trailing over your own skin, before you disappear from view, leaving him breathless.

For a moment, Miguel just sits there, his body tense, his mind racing. The image of you, so free, so unguarded, is burned into his memory, and he knows it’s something he’ll replay over and over again in his mind. He tries to shake it off, to convince himself that it was nothing, just a fleeting moment—but the truth is, he’s in awe. He can’t believe what he just saw, and yet he can’t let it go.

He refuses to lay back down, to pretend as if nothing happened. His heart is still pounding, his skin tingling with the remnants of the sun’s heat and something else, something far more dangerous. He sits up, wide-eyed, replaying the scene in his mind, letting it linger. There’s no escaping it now. The image of you bathed in sunlight, every movement deliberate and intoxicating, will haunt him. It’s a secret he’ll keep, a memory he’ll revisit again and again, long after the sun has set and the heat of the day has finally faded.

5th August

Adulting means spending heaps of money on things which you’d rather not, like new appliances. You start to wonder where the money goes after, and why so much of it goes too. Today is one of those days. After making a painful dent in your bank account on a new appliance, you finally pull into your driveway, the stifling heat inside your car practically cooking you alive. The summer sun has turned your vehicle into an oven, and as you open the door, a wave of heat rolls out, making the sweltering air outside almost feel cool in comparison.

With a sigh, you climb out, your body already slick with sweat. You circle to the passenger side, pulling open the door to retrieve the heavy cardboard box that holds your new purchase. The weight of it nearly sends you toppling over, and you grimace as you try to get a better grip. The box is bulky and awkward, the edges digging into your arms as you begin the slow, torturous journey to your front door.

Every step feels like a challenge as the heat presses down on you, sweat trickling down your back. You’re already dreading the short walk, and as you glance at the distance between your car and your front door, you can feel the sweat start to gather at your hairline, your muscles straining under the weight. With another heave, you start to shuffle forward, side-stepping to keep the box balanced, your arms already burning from the effort.

Just when you think you might have to drop the box and rest, a familiar gruff voice cuts through the oppressive heat.

“Need some help with that?”

You look up to see Miguel, your neighbour, stepping out of his car. His timing is impeccable as if he appeared just when you were about to collapse under the weight of the box.

“I saw you coming out and thought you might need a little help,” he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes as he takes in your struggle.

You can’t help but tease him a little, despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Why? Don’t you think I can do it on my own?”

He doesn’t seem to catch the playful tone in your voice, instead taking your words at face value. “No, it’s just that you’re bent over double and practically becoming best friends with the ground with how far down you’re crouching.”

“Ouch,” you reply with a mock wince.

“Sorry,” he says, though there’s a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate the help.”

Without another word, Miguel steps forward and effortlessly lifts the box from your hands, making it look as light as a feather. You can’t help but feel a little envious of his strength as he carries it with ease toward your front door. You quickly rush ahead to open the door for him, grateful for the assistance.

“Where do you want this?” he asks as he steps inside, the cool air from the house hitting his face.

“Just on that countertop will do, thanks,” you reply, pointing to the kitchen.

Miguel sets the box down carefully, and before you can even think to ask, he’s already heading back to your car to grab the remaining items. He makes a couple more trips, hauling the heavy boxes as if they weigh nothing, and your mind can’t help but fawn over his effortless strength. There’s something undeniably attractive about the way he moves, the way his muscles flex as he carries each load inside without breaking a sweat.

With the last of the boxes shuffled onto the countertop, Miguel turns to leave, but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

“Hey, would you like something to drink? It’s the least I can do to thank you,” you offer, flashing him a grateful smile.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods, a smile softening his features. “Sure, why not?”

You grab a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Miguel as the two of you make your way outside to the backyard. You find a spot on the steps, settling down side by side as he gulps down the cool drink, clearly appreciating the refreshment after the heavy lifting.

“You old enough to be having this beer?” Miguel asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not mine,” you quickly explain, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “A friend left it over.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your explanation entirely. “How old are you then?”

“Twenty,” you reply, your voice steady, though you can’t help but feel a bit exposed by the question.

“Right,” he says, his tone neutral, but you can sense the wheels turning in his mind.

The age gap between you is significant, but oddly enough, it doesn’t seem to bother him. Not at all. In fact, there’s a certain tension in the air, a silent understanding that something unspoken hangs between you both. The way he looks at you, the way he’s been lingering a little longer than necessary—there’s something there, something neither of you has acknowledged yet, but it’s growing stronger with every passing moment.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and smooth, “you’re pretty resourceful, handling all this on your own. But if you ever need help again... you know where to find me.”

His words linger in the air, heavy with implication, and you feel a shiver run down your spine despite the lingering heat of the day.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, your voice soft, almost a whisper.

Miguel stands, his eyes never leaving yours as he steps away, but there’s a promise in his gaze, something unspoken that leaves you feeling warm and slightly breathless.

10th August

It’s late when he’s in your car round the corner of your street. The outside world is still- void of movement. The only two being existing are the both of you. Concealed under the inky blackness of the night, that its shade has to conceal. It's thrilling, almost like a sparkler on your touch, ready to crackle at any moment. The moonlight basks him nicely, highlighting his masculine and broody features, and capturing his captivating essence. His dark curls run past his deep eyes that call to you from the other side. His lips, which lick themselves with sin, are ready to taint yours too. You’re finding it harder and harder to contain yourself.

The lights of the streets, aligned perfectly, flicker and twinkle before you, igniting your motives even more. Even the distance between the both of you is electrifying, scared that one singular brush of a finger or shared gaze between each other would cause worlds to collide and collapse. His deep chuckle, fills the small car, snapping back into the present moment. It’s like your body has a mind of its own the way your fingers retract when he calls your name. This is dangerous territory. The scene set up for you is seductive and alluring.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks you, his gaze ever so slowly rising from the edge of your car seat into your calling eyes, and he holds it. He freezes time by holding the connection.

“No.” you crack a smirk, your fingers playfully dancing on the centre console, keeping your tone light and flirty, your soft voice barely coming out above a whisper, drawing him in.

“Really? A girl like you doesn’t have one? That’s new.” he replies, looking ahead of him, the curls atop of his head tickling the roof of your car, further highlighting his enormous build.

“A girl like me? What does that mean?” Every sentence shared between the two of you is mere foreplay and the both of you know it. It’s sick. Every syllable spoken is dragged out slowly and stretched by rising smirks.

“You know, a pretty girl.” he’s smiling at your reaction, your failed attempt of muffling the smile spreading across your face and the heat rising through your core to your face.

You’re charmed, “You think I’m a pretty girl?” you ask, a twinkle in your eyes.

“Very.” he responds, the both of you staring at each other’s lips, imaging each other’s flavour and the way you both taste. Not a sound passes through the vehicle, it’s deadly silent, the only sound is the ringing of your own heartbeat in your head, a signal of your misbehaving.

“Well,” you start off, your voice as thick as honey, eyes latched unto his lips. “I’ve never had a older boyfriend before.”

“Oh yeah?” it is slow and reverberating when he says that.

“I bet he would treat me so good, and look after me real well. Don’t you?” you play with your lips between your teeth, biting and tugging playfully.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a younger girl under my care. But I assume, he’d treat you real good. Who ever he may be be.”

You hum, “How good? Tell me.”

“He’d make you feel things you’ve never felt before, make you see things you’ve never seen before, give you the attention you deserve.” his voice is low and grungy, he’s falling into your stick trap and you love it. You fail to realise the distance between the both of you diminishing, faces drawn closer and closer.

“Sounds good to me. Such a shame there isn’t a hunky older man to teach me these new things.” you’re whispering now. “Would you show me, Mr O’Hara?” The temptation. The beginning of his fall. You. Teasing him shamelessly in your car, you're displaying faux innocence, dripping in arousal. The use of the formality, ‘Mr O’Hara’ a name to which you’ve never referred him, flips the switch from within him.

Your lips crash unto his, finally bridging the distance between the both you. The kiss is fiery and hot, when your lips tangle with each other, breathing each other in, from the sheer desperation in the kiss. Sounds of lips smacking fill up the car very quickly, and the taste of faint liquor coats his lips, it's intoxicating and you’re reeling. His hand wastes no time cupping your face, holding you close to him. Finger’s nestle in his curly dark locks and the kiss deepens.

The only time the both of you separate is for air, gasping quickly as you pant for air, resting your forehead on his, and keeping him close by keeping your fingers interlocked in his hair.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathes out, refusing to look up at you, knowing he’ll fall for the trap again.

“I know but you know you want to. It feels so right, doesn’t it?” you’re breathless and your lips have darkened in colour slightly, appearing rosier and more tempting.

“Fuck kid, the things you do to me.” he groans and he dives in again.

17th August

“Ngh- fuck.” you’re crying out as he thrusts into you mercilessly, drilling you deeper and deeper into your sheets. You're writhing and wriggling under his weighted grasp, as he uses one firm hand to pin your wrists above your head. Hair clings to your face, as you’re worked up by the intense pleasure. Back arching off the mattress as one stroke out the other’s seems to hit you just right, causing an involuntary reaction. Miguel is living for this, his eyes trained on your every move and shift, his ears memorising every one of your whimpers and cries. He’s relentless.

“Being such a good girl f’ me y’know that?” he says, his curls in disarray from the strenuous act, clinging to his forehead, his abs glistening in the sheen layering of sweat, from his dedication to making you feel like heaven. “You look so pretty like this princesa. Tan bonita. “

You’re fevershingly rolling and grinding your hips against him, eager and desperate for a sweet release. “Hold on, patience,” he growls, focused on getting you to cream all over him regardless. He can picture it now, your trembling figure spewing out a hot burst of yours and his warm white cum, making a mess of yourself. The thought of it alone nearly sends him over the edge.

“’ M gonna come Miggy.” you mewl out, toes curling from the heightened anticipation. You’re dripping and drenched. It’s absolutely filthy. From the moment you invited them into your home and tolerated the incessant foreplay, you’ve been needy and begging to feel him, to get a piece of him. So the moment when those lace panties came off, the man was met with a glistening, slick cunt, which is now responsible for the soppy sounds filling up the room. The sounds of your arousal. He’d call you a bad girl, for thinking of him so naughtily to get your pussy so needy, but he isn’t as innocent either.

“I know baby, I know, just hold out f’me, kay.”

“Fuuuckk.” tears are running down your cheek when Miguel lifts up of your legs, placing it over his broad shoulders. Your head falls back in pure bliss.

“Looks like we got a dirty mouth on our case. You’re gonna have to open wide for me.” he instructs and like a puppet you obey, opening your mouth more waiting for his thick fingers to invade. You’re slobbering all over the shamelessly, making eye contact with him as he ruts into you. “What a messy girl, is this how you behave when you get fucked, hmm?” his movement and sharper and faster and your body is limp, mind fogged. You forget to respond to him, too dicked dumb to do so.

“I asked you a question, you’re gonna fucking answer, is this how you act when you get fucked? Huh, princess? Like a sloppy slut? Or is it just with me?” you nod lazily in response, still moaning over the fingers in your mouth. Your eyes go wide when you feel yourself tightening, your walls gummy hot walls clamping down on him harder. Miguel removes his fingers from your mouth and his hand from your wrists, freeing them, his hands slipping down to your hips.

You can’t even scream about about your close approach because he can feel it and it's fast coming.

“Wanna come Miggy. Wanna feel so good.”

“Want me to make you feel good? Wanna come.”

“Yes, please,please,please,please.” you’re screaming and chanting ‘please’ as you feel your high incoming, and arch your back even further.

“Cum baby, come all over.” you screw your eyes tight as the knot in your stomach finally breaks and you’re cumming. With a couple of thrusts, Miguel follows soon after, his groans and your moans mixing together in the room. His dick is coated in a creamy white, leaving a ring around his base. You’re twitching as you come down from your high, gasping and trying to catch your breath.

With a soft kiss on your forehead, he congratulates you, “Did so good baby.”

23rd August

Sounds of the conscient stream of water fill up the soundscape of the bathroom, hot water, rushing down your back as you’re pressed against the wall, bent over for Miguel and his thick cock. You’ve got no stable supports, and your fingers are slipping off the wet wall, as you try to grip anything for support. It was a mistake for you to drag him along with you into the shower. What were you thinking? Expecting for him to remain composed upon seeing you all when and soapy, no chance. That’s how you find yourself screaming out his name as he places his large hands on your hips, using them to pummel you.

Beirfely, you turn to look back at him. A man on a mission, focused on your ass jiggling repetitively, it was hypnotizing.

“Go slower, slower.” you plead, dreading cumming early, having all of this fade so fast. But of course, the man refuses to listen to you, instead speeding up. Your words are cut off when he reaches deep, feeling as if he’s brushing against your cervix. You drop your head, your mouth following and you scream silently, thanking the Lord above for this blessing of man. One of his hands runs up your back, his thumb slowly stroking it. Bouncing back on his dick, your hips push back every time he pushes in, making you go dizzy.

“Atta girl, just like that, you eager to come on my dick huh?” he says lowly. You’re biting your lip as you nod, that is all you can think about. Your back arches as he speeds up, clenching down on him, warm walls giving him a tight squeeze, making him drop his head back as he lets out a low guttural groan.

“Fuck you’re sexy. Think you can come for me?” Not much else is aid when after three more strokes you're crying out his name, sounding like a sweet melody in his ears.

24th August

“Nice and slow princess, you sure you can handle it?” you’re gargling around his thick cock as he pushes your head down, forcing you to take him all. Making a mess as your saliva coats and lubes his hard-on. Your eyes are shut tight and your hands are gripping his thighs as he uses your hair to bob your head up and down his length. “There we go, such a pretty girl.” he coos, staring down at you, in awe at your determination and persistence to carry this through. Initially, he would’ve been fine with directing all his attention to you, but you didn’t want to seem like a quitter, you didn’t want to prove to him that you were a kid after all and he wasn’t right for you.

“You like that? Yeah, take it all in baby. Fuck” You feel a familiar heat pool in your panties, slowly dampening them. You fail to notice, that one of your hands has slipped down to soothe the building ache until he chuckles. “Don’t worry baby I haven’t forgotten about you. Gonna take real good care of you real soon.” He leans his head back, feeling his high approaching. His incessant repeating of your praise intertwined with praises of your good work seems to be working you up even more, the ache from before now developing into an urgent and deep throb. You moan, just thinking about it.

“Dirty fuckin girl.” he groans, taking his hands off your head and putting you in charge, his hand instead collecting all your hair. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, turning it to the side occasionally to sensually glide your tongue up his length, maintaining eye contact with him through watery eyes. “Fuck princess.” he groans. “ Want me to cum all over your face princess?” you moan in agreeance, feeling yourself throb in anticipation.

He hisses before pulling out of your mouth at the last minute, helping himself by finishing with a couple of strokes from his own hand. “Open wide baby.” You stick out your tongue ready, and hot spurts of coming land on your face, some coating your awaiting tongue too.

“Fuck you look good like this.”

26th August

You would say that you’re surprised that this man is a master pussy eater, but you’d be lying. He has successfully proven numerous times that he’s simply a sex god. So when your fingers are pulling on his hair for dear life, he isn’t surprised. With every flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit, you’re rolling your hips, getting his nose to nudge against your clit too in the mix. “Can’t go anymore, baby.”

“Why not, just wanna see you cum all over again, you look so perfect when you do it.”

His tongue laps over your sensitive bud again, slurping up and collecting all your juices and you’re crying from the intense pleasure wriggling and writhing again.

“So good.” you groan, leaning your head back and falling into the pleasure, letting it consume you. His hands are grabbing your thighs forcefully whilst his thumb is simultaneously grazing the flesh. He’s passionately making out against your soaked cunt, not minding that you’re dripping unto his chin. He loves it.

“Wait, wait, I’m gonna come, ‘M gonna come, gonna come.” you tell him too late, because when you do, you’re not creaming like you usually do, but instead a clear liquid sprays out. Everywhere.

“Well, you may you didn’t come, but you definitely squirted.”

28th August

“Rub that pretty pussy for me. Just like that.” his voice says through the phone, watching intently as your fingers repetitively circle over your clit, your speed slow and teasing, you bite your lips to suppress your moans, your drenched hole fluttering around nothing. Miguel has finally got himself a free house, but his wife’s suspicions are arising, not towards the two of you, but towards Miguel’s new sneaking out habit and leaving the house more than he usually would. Usually, you would feel bad for the mother, getting neglected by her husband and watching him distance himself from her, leaving the burden of their child unto her, but you were having too much fun with his married man. With the way he fucks you, and holds you and whispers dirty things in your ear- tainting your innocence. Your head is reeling from all this new attention, so you don’t think you’ll stop anytime soon.

“Fuck.” a soft groan comes from his side as he watches you devilishly slip your finger into your warm, desperate cunt. “Did I tell you you could put you’re fingers in, huh?” Miguel on the other end is pumping himself to the sight of you, needy and depraved. No matter how many times he’s been all up in your cunt, or had your gummy walls wrap around him, he can never seem to get enough. There’s something about you that pulls him back, you’re not just some option on the side for him anymore, but now more like a drug, the things you’re doing to him.

“Don’t care.” you giggle softly, pumping your fingers at a faster pace, rolling your head to the side. “I’m horny and you’re not here to do anything about it.”

“Watch it. We’ll see what I’ll do when I get back.”

You arch your back as your fingers finally graze your G spot, causing you to moan out. Your fingers are covered in your slick. “Wish you were here to fuck me, Miguel,” you whine, not knowing the effect this has on him. If he could, he would run out of the house take you right then and there, stuff you full of him and watch as you get fucked dumb by him. You’re teasingly moaning louder than usual to work him up, but your mind can’t help but fill with a picture of him having his way with you, fucking you rough. “ Fuck Miggy, need you right now.” you moan out, your fingers pumping into yourself faster.

“Maybe if you come all of those pretty fingers I might consider it.”

“Mmhg shit, I can come for you, I can come real hard.” you put your other hand to good use, to circle your clit, the feeling immediately increasing my tenfold, now you’re really crying out, head getting clouded by pure lust and the urge to reach your high.” With a few more pumps and circles of your fingers, you release all over your fingers, laying back on your bed to catch a breath as warm cum ooze out of you.

“Come here and show me the mess you’ve made baby.” you don’t hesitate to sit up and grab your phone, angling it to reveal your white fingers. “Put em in your mouth and suck real good.” you follow his command, swirling your tongue around your fingers and sucking them clean, before taking them out of your mouth to show him the finished result. “Atta girl.”

“Look at the mess I made.” you bring your phone to your glistening cunt, absolutely covered in your arousal, your hole still leaking cum from your high, and your puffy clit.

“What a good girl.”

August 31st

The both of you knew this day would come. The last day before you returned back to college, the day where you’d have to say goodbye, but it happened all too soon. You almost wish that something, anything would happen to not have to pull you out of this situation and from the ecstasy you’re feeling. The room has picked up the scent of sex after all the rounds the both of you have endured, fucking for hours on end. The sounds of skin slapping and bed creaking has filled the room with pap, pap, pap’s. Your nails are digging into his back, definitely leaving him marked up with your scratches against his board back and he pummels into you, your body practically clinging unto him as he fuck you into oblivion.

“Gonna miss you, baby, you know that?” he says, placing gentle kisses on your hot forehead, some strands of your hair clinging to your face.

“Gonna miss you too,” you respond, pulling him closer as he reaches deeper and deeper, further and further into you. You place your lips on his neck, passionately sucking on it, with the intent of leaving a mark.

“You naughty, naughty thing, what have I told you about shit like this.” you ignore him anyway. Miguel has always had a problem with being evidenced. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to catch an accidental glimpse of it and start pointing fingers, but as this was a farewell gift, he let the scratching slide. Once successfully leave your mark, you giggle. “We’ll see who’ll be laughing in a second.”

In a second you’re moaning louder. There’s something that he’s doing that's working even better than a couple of thrusts ago, and you don’t know what it is. You thought you were already at 100% with him, but you suppose you truly underestimated him. Now he has you screaming his name, pleading and begging like prayer- music to his ears.

“Oh fuck. oh my fucking God.” One thing Miguel loves about you is how vocal you are, it fuels him, so whenever he hears your pleas to keep going or to stop because it’s too much, he carries right on. You’re high up with the way you’re being fucked, his hips rut into you and soon you’re unable to even scream out loud, all of them turning silent.

“Yeah, who's laughing now.” he chuckles, as you lay back on the bed, gripping the sheets beneath you. He takes his hand to your face, brushing the hair out of it before placing a is on your lips and you’re melting into it. The two of you don’t usually kiss, keeping it strictly to fucking, but this time it’s different, this one is different. Contradictory to his pace, you lips are slow and gentle as he savours your taste and your lips for the last time.

This truly is the end.

SEPTEMBER 1ST

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

count how many times i said fuck. miguel is sooooooooo sexy oh mi god. please give this the love it deserves i acc spent ages writing this.

[muntitled]

Headlines & Headaches

-' Spiderman!Jake x Fem!Reader

-' Summary: All he did was make you worry and for that... You'd make him pay.

-' Warnings: Established Relationship, Loser!Jake, Language, Violence, Bruises, Slight Angst, Fluff, Spiderman AU, Mentions of Shootings, Jealousy, Weaponizing!Heeseung, Drinking, Smut (+18) mdni, Grinding, Dirty Talk, Dom/Sub Themes, Cunnilinghus, Fingering, Degradation Kink, Make Up sex

<3

You are dreadfully aware of every single millisecond that passes without you by his side. While the seconds bleed into nanoseconds, it introduces a new string of endless possibilities that may or may not occur while Jake is out.

Everything that would and could go wrong.

Imaginations of Jake being subject to wayward punches and stray bullets ran through your head like a freight train.

The boy was clumsy enough to get bitten by a radioactive spider for God's sake. He is quite literally drawn to disaster.

Perhaps you would have found it attractive if it was not the bane of your very existence.

"I think this is why I'm attracted to you." Jake had said absentminedly the previous night. "You fuss over me way too much, and I like it way too much, and that says more about me than it does you."

"Please don't move too much, I'm almost done-" his big doe eyes bore dangerously into yours while you concluded stitching a wound on the side of his face. Thankfully, it had been a shallow laceration, but it still punctured a nasty rip in his mask.

"I also really like it when you yell at me, or like scold me really softly. It gets me excited."

You ignore his giggles, sighing while your heart panged at the bruises scattered across his face.

"Does that mean I have mommy issues, Miss Psychologist?"

Another sigh automatically unsheathed itself from your lungs as you pressed a disinfected cotton ball to his cheek and watched him wince. "I'm not a psychologist-"

"Yet." Said Jake.

"Yet." You nodded, "And you know I don’t believe in any of Freud's incest logic."

"Fuck," Jake cursed under his breath, which you intially thought was from wound repair but you quickly found out was from something else.

"You're so smart," he had affirmed with wide, soaped over eyes.

"You're quite literally studying biochemistry which is far better than my silly little psychology degree."

"And humble too!? I think I'm in love!" Jake was quick to grab ahold of your wrist.

"Jake, let me finish-"

Before you could even think, he placed your palm directly on the bulge that had grown underneath his suit, "I need you, okay? Baby, I always need you," while his eyes fluttered shut, mumbling "my pretty girl," under his breath, you had been completely and utterly spellbound by his use of the word 'need'. You were pleasantly surprised at how affected you were by the notion that your outrageously smart, charismatic and not to mention literally powerful boyfriend could ever really 'need' someone like you. 'Want' is okay. 'Want' is safe and free of complexities and obligations but 'need' extended far beyond letting him fuck you as senseless as he did last night...

But the worry was a neverending story. It hit you simultaneously - multiple little televisions streaming every possible kind of disaster all at once. Everything that might happen while Jake is out saving Seoul, potentially needing you and you not being there.

Even the deafening blare of the music leaking out of mysterious speakers failed to keep all the dreaded inevitabilities at bay. With a solo cup of soju in one hand and your phone in the other, you opt to gaze down at your phone quivering visciously in your hand. The minimal amount of alcohol floating in your bloodstream does little to hinder your functionality as you refresh the chat.

Jake's contact detail attached to a cute little picture of him stuffing his face with sushi sends a viscious pang to your heart as you sit robotically on the end of the smokers couch, nestled under a cloud of perfume and cannabis. Around you, a feverish game of truth or dare has befallen with people on the adjacent couch but your mind is elsewhere.

In Jake's business, death would be inevitable. All that matters is the final message you sent. One that he failed to respond to.

[22:36] Check in, Spider.

To which he would allay your troubles by swiftly and quickly responding with:

[22:38] checking in

Always without the improper punctuation as if to let you know he was currently very busy swinging about high rises.

This time however, he failed to check in and you're left stranded in the living room of a house party in Hongdae, with no actual clue as to where in the city your boyfriend had found himself.

"I'm sure your nerd boyfriend doesn't need you to smother him all the time," it was the drunken slurs of a fellow classmate, who's grating words succeed in peeling your eyes away from your screen momentarily.

"You're not his mother." Said Heeseung with a grossly charismatic smirk, only for you to stab him with the deadliest glare you can muster. Your jaw is locked, and your phone is suffocating in your iron grip.

"And I'm sure you didn't need to smother your hair in so much hair gel, but alas, we can't all have nice things."

Ignoring the hum of praise for your rebuttal, you press send on the second message:

[23:11] This party sucks... please check in.

"Instead of wallowing all by yourself, you could actually try to have some fun. Perhaps loosen yourself up in the process?" Heeseung sits way too close, his side, pressing into your side without a lick of space to separate you too, but the space lessens to an even bigger degree as he leans sideways. Your head is fixed on your lap as his lips brush past your ear with the unmistakable hint of soju wafting against your neck. "Truth or dare."

"What?" You ask, utterly discombobulated, having seemingly forgotten where you are. Heeseung’s Cheshire cat grin is unwavering as he asks, "Truth or-"

"Oh shit- someone top the volume!"

Almost like clockwork, a sea of gasps settle amongst the other patrons congesting the living room. You send Heeseung a furrowed brow to look at the tv past his grinning face, only to be immediately met with an utterly nauseating scene splashed across national television. The news anchors' tone of voice robs the scene of its devastation.

"Patrons say the shootout which occured only moments before in the crowded streets of Itaewon could have been an 'unmistakable act of terror' were it not for the friendly neighborhood Spiderman who appeared just in time to rid the gunman of his bullets. Witnesses are in awe of the Spiderman's innate, superhuman reflexes which allowed him to-"

You fail to keep the panic from exploding onto your face as the news anchor drones on and on in the background. Around you, your classmates make a quip or two before quickly losing interest. This is nothing new.

"Anyway," Says Heeseung, "Truth or Dare?"

But you feel utterly sick to your stomach with the notion that Jake flew blindly in between an open crowd and a loaded gun. Heroism be damned, what would any of it mean if he ended up fucking dead? Your boyfriend had the capacity to flood your entire brain, therefore prompting Heeseung to repeat his question.

"Princess? Truth or Dare-"

You realize then that you are dreadfully obsessive. Always fearing your partner may fulfill the inevitable and get hurt and leave you. You couldn't bare to live in your own skin if you turned out to be something that Jake left behind...

"Dare." The voice immediately has you snapping your head away from the tv. Everything happens at once. It is as if the sun is peeking through the crowds, bathing you in unforgettable light as you look up to find the one man you've been searching for all night. Your mouth hangs open as Jake sits directly beside you on the armrest of the couch. Dressed in a cool and comfortable long sleeve shirt, as boyish as ever. As normal as ever.

His body heat immediately restores a once thirsty, inexplicable part of your soul, rendering you a muted mess.

"Shit was crazy," Says Jake, pointing vaguely at the screen of the television, before looking back down at you with sly smile on his lips, "Or so I hear."

His gaze is unwavering as he pushes his thick rimmed glasses further up his nose. Your eyes are restlessly taking all of him in. Scanning every crevice of his face for any unfamiliar bruise while assessing the state of his perfectly imperfect state of curly black hair. No signs of his double life.

"Sorry bro," says Heeseung, effectively breaking the spell between the two of you. Jake very begrudgingly removes his eyes from the side of your head before looking at Heeseung, who says, "You've got to wait your turn-"

Jake practically whines out loud, as petulant as a child when he throws his head back and says, "Can't you just dare her to fuck me? She is my girlfriend..."

"Interesting," Heeseung responds as slick as silver, "We all pegged you as a virgin type, way to prove us wrong."

Jake leans forward, his fingers drawing odd circles on your shoulder as he says to Heeseung, "You fucking-"

"Give my turn to someone else!" You rush to interject before Jake embarrassed himself in front of your entire department. When did he have the time to consume alcohol because he certainly is not sober?

You're bombarded by a flurry of conflicting emotions as you secure your hand around Jake's wrist and drag him through the party and up the stairs. Your face is utterly muddled as you try to sieve through your emotions of anger at him for ignoring your messages and for having to be a superhero. All the while, Jake lets you pull his him away, a lazy smile dancing on his face as he signals a thumbs up to passersby.

It is only when you're in the confines of the homeowners guest room that you're able to hear yourself think beyond the humdrum of hip hop music. Your head pounds with the force of your emotion and you're quick to pull Jake inside, before pushing him against the slamming door.

"Don't throw me around, I'll cum," He whines petulantly, melting into the door before squeezing his eyes shut. You give him a murderous glare as you crowd him against the door.

"No message back, Jaeyun!? You're utterly unbelievable-"

"And you're utterly gorgeous. Is this a new dress?" You slap away his hand away skimming the lining of your lace mini dress - an outfit you would've liked him to appreciate at the beginning of the night, before you found out he ditched you in favor of psychotic lunatics.

"All I ask of you is to follow through with checking in! Message me! Even if it's a freaking full stop or an emoji! Even if you're not in a position to type out a full sentence - which is complete and utter bullshit by the way, I've seen you and your high-rise selfies." You're unaware that Jake's slightly tipsy mind is flooded with nothing but lust and adrenaline from yet another successful day of protecting his city. He's swimming in the high of gratitude, which only multiplied once he got to lay eyes on you and your black dress, your slightly drunken hooded eyes, and your glossy, lined lips. Lips that are very firmly cursing him the hell out. He really tries to be a proactive listener and take your scolding but it once again goes straight to his dick, and his hooded eyes drift from your eyes, to your lips, to the warmth of your, to your unmarked neck, to-

"Are you seriously staring at my tits right now!?"

He immediately snaps his head up to you, inadvertently pulling you close towards him until your front was flush against his front. "Let me suck on them please- I've missed you so, so much today."

You could feel your defenses waning. A boyfriend like Jake was a dangerous thing to have, especially since he harbored the power to distract you so easily from your anger. Your mind is fuzzy as Jake lowers his lips into the crook of your neck while his fingers make careful contact with the skin of your thigh.

"Missed hearing your voice, criminals are no fun." He murmurs into your neck, already sporting that needy little of tone of voice that he knew would always succeed in getting you wet. "Missed hearing you, and smelling you," his lips drift against your neck, spraying warm kisses along your collar as a distraction from his hand slipping further up your skirt...

"Do you know how boring it actually is, half the time? I still have to make police feel like they're actually doing something so some moments I'm just perched on high rises, left to my thoughts" He presses a kiss to the supple flesh of your cleavage spilling out of the dress' neckline, "Do you know what I think about, pretty girl?"

You shake your head. You're only really aware of Jake's hands settled on your hip under the skirt of the dress as he lifts himself from your neck. There is a small smile on his lips as he is now the one pushing you backwards.

"I think about you. I think about kissing you," his voice is airy and teasing, "I think about hugging you," the back of your knees connect with the edge of the double bed which he effortlessly pushes you down on, "I think about smelling you, and feeling you and fucking you," Jake's movements bleed into urgency, at having you splayed on the bed. His hands are restless on your body as he lifts your skirt to push your underwear to the side, unable to divulge anymore time to undressing. He kneels his tall frame on the ground as he pulls your thighs towards the edge of the bed. Your knees are framing his face and he looks at you from between your shaking legs.

"P-Please, Jake..." all your anger and all your sensibilities have all melted away in the wake of your boyfriend blowing teasingly against your exposed core. The very sight of how utterly drenched you are sends Jake into a frenzy.

"Fuck, babe. Don't beg like that- I told you, you're gonna make me cum."

He is unable to keep his gaze off your glistening cunt and the arousal that he spreads against your inner thighs.

"F-Fuck I need to taste you-" serves as your one and only warning before he lowers his lips to your clit. You scream into the air, back arching off the covers as Jake sticks his tongue out and begins to lap furiously as your vagina. He encircles a large hand around your thigh, securing your pussy firmly against your lips with no escape. You're left to endure his needy whimpering as he kisses your cunt with absolute fervour.

"F-Fuck, I- I think it's too much-" You attempt to pull away yet again but this boy is strong and very fucking needy and he refuses to let you get away from his lips suctioning your cunt while his tongue delved inside...

Your hips immediately grind your pussy further against him, only eliciting a whorish moan from him before he quickly rises. His curls bounce as he nods profusely, "Fuck, yes, baby... use my mouth okay? Please, please, please-" by the third 'please' he's attached his lips to your pussy once more, brain utterly flooded with lust and satisfaction at the feeling of your hips pushing against his face. Your movements have him nosing your cunt, evoking another strained moan from you - a moan so dirty and slutty, is has him automatically bumping his bulge against the bedpost to rhythm of his tongue moving in and out of you.

"Are you going to cum for me, Pretty Girl?" He asks, swiftly replacing his tongue with his fingers which slide so easily into your slippery cunt it had him grinding further into the bed. "Fuck- you're taking my fingers so well, baby!" His glasses fog up and clear in intervals as he nears his releases. He honestly doesn't know whether to watch how your face contorts into the glory of your orgasm or whether to watch your cunt swallow his fingers.

"You're gonna cum by humping my fingers, aren't you baby?" He more so tells himself, egging his impending orgasm along with a slow, nod while his fingers spear in and out of your pussy.

"F-Fuck, I think I'm cumming-"

You're most certainly cumming a nanosecond later, and the sight of your parted lips and the sound of your words have Jake whining into the air before melting into his own orgasm from rutting against the bed. His head melts in between your legs, while he completely makes out with your cunt and his fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm. Your body is floating.

Gone are the worries.

Gone is the sliver of anger.

You're vaguely aware that this might have been Jake's plan all along, but you can not even bring yourself to be angry. Not when he is delivering such sincere kisses on your quivering, aching cunt.

"What the heck are you doing?" You ask, panting heavily as you watch your boyfriend be so utterly transfixed by your vagina, he's taken to whispering to it.

"I think she wants me to cum inside her next time. She's saying you should go on the pill-"

You muster enough energy to roll your eyes before saying, "take your fingers out of me-"

"But I like having my fingers inside of you-"

"Jake-"

"And I'm sorry, okay?" He lowers his head to press a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I'm sorry for not responding to your message. I promise to check in. Always."

There is no stopping your heart from melting, especially not when he is around.

"Okay," you say with a shaky breathe, "I believe you,"

[cowboylikefaith]

with great power...

art donaldson spiderman! au x reader

summary: stanford has a masked superhero on the loose, and you're trying to crack down on his identity. little do you know, it's your boyfriend art.

warnings: cursing, injuries, reader highkey gets mugged, art is being mysterious af, reader is incredibly oblivious, sappy at the end sorry, not proofread

author's note: HI so this is actually my first time writing a fic ever... but this au idea has been absolutely rotting in my brain for the past week or so and i need to get it out. enjoy!!!!!!

╰🕸️ ₊✧ ﾟ❤️⚬𓂂➢

"dude!" you say barging into art's dorm (not realizing that your poor boyfriend was in the middle of a nap) "look at the topic the newspaper just assigned me. some shithead on campus is doing parkour in a scuba suit, people are calling him 'spiderman'."

art is pulled out of his trance-like state when he hears the name fall out of your mouth. you feel bad after realizing you woke him up, seeing him wipe his tired eyes with a pout on his lips. "hey pretty" he says with a lopsided smirk on his face "what were you talking about? some spider-idiot?" you hop into bed next to him "yeah it's nothing...sorry for waking you up, just go back to bed, 'kay?"

you don't know what's been up with art recently. he rarely returns your calls, he's always tired, and when he's awake, he's either in a rush or incredibly sluggish. you asked patrick about it and he said that the beginning of a new tennis season is wearing both of them down. seems reasonable, right?

now, it's been a few weeks since you were assigned this story, and jess (your senior editor) wants you to photograph and interview this spiderman guy, because apparently he's some kind of campus superhero (returning stolen laptops, helping drunk sorority girls avoid getting hit by cars, the usual) however you have no leads so far.

until one day, tashi tells you a story about how he saved a freshman from the tennis team from being hazed, and you decide to ask your boyfriend about it.

"you don't know anything about a kid named steven mcdonald, do you?" you ask art as you settle down to watch some gossip girl.

"that freshman who survived a hazing incident? yeah, i know of him" he replies as he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead.

you pull away with furrowed eyebrows "well did he...say...anything about that night?"

"uh no. no, not really" he says (a little distantly) "anyway! i seriously don't understand why serena loves dan so much, nate is obviously the better choice for her."

you roll your eyes sarcastically "wow donaldson...really smooth transition! way to change the subject there honey."

"i'm sorry.." he replies as he plays with your hair "it's just that...i don't want you getting mixed up in that kind of stuff. if you got hurt.." he sighs "i don't know what i'd do with myself"

and so you promise art that you'll stop working on the article...until jess says she'll kick you out of the stanford star if you do.

one night, as you're walking back to your dorm after dinner with tashi and patrick (third wheel much?), a man in a black ski mask suddenly approaches you and orders you to put your hands up.

"give me your fucking heels lady...and your purse!" he demands.

"oh god no" you shut your eyes and groan "please sir, these are really expensive and- and these are manolo blahniks!! my mom bought-"

before you can finish your rambling, you can hear a thud, and when open your eyes, you can see that he's been wrapped up in some web-like substance.

"don't worry, he's not dead" a figure says as he walks out from behind the criminal. you feel like you know him, you can't even see his face but something about him is just so familiar, and you can't put your finger on it. until..

oh my god

"oh my god! you're spiderman! thank you so much, seriously. that guy could've killed me" you say excitedly, forgetting about your past opinions about him.

art- i mean spiderman, chuckles and says that it's no problem, and asks if he could take you back to your dorm.

"yeah! i would love that, thank you." you reply "actually, could i take your photo? i'm doing an article about you for the stanford star." oh and art eats it UP. he's doing stupid poses and acting silly and goofy (just to hear you laugh of course).

you get back to your dorm safely, and spiderart bids you farewell. just before he leaps out your window, he pulls a red stanford cap (one that you've never noticed, and one that looks suspiciously like art's) out of his pocket.

"hey, maybe i'll see you around" he says as he puts the cap on...backwards. something that only art would do. lucky enough for him, you're too tired to notice.

"...and those are the differences between meiosis and mitosis." you're trying to study for another biology exam when all of a sudden you hear a tapping noise on your window.

at first you think it's a bird, or some frat boy trying to piss you off by throwing empty beer cans at your window, but the tapping turns into banging and you start to hear sounds of pain through the glass.

you run to the window and see a boy in a familiar red and blue suit sitting on the windowsill. this time with a huge gash in his side.

"spiderman? oh my god, get inside, what happened?" you ask while scrambling for a first aid kit. art falls onto your bed, unknowingly bleeding all over your new floral sheets. he groans and holds his side, mumbling something about...well god knows what.

art protests as you try to patch up the very open wound by his waist. "you're just like my boyfriend art," you say with a grin "he gets all fucked up during his tennis matches and doesn't let me help him out." you can hear him through the mask but you can't tell if it's a laugh or a whimper.

"jesus- how long is this going to take? i have an econ final to study for" he says with a wince. "not very long if you sit still, spiderboy" you retort "why don't you take off your mask? you must be dying with that thing on."

you feel his face, and it feels...familiar. you slowly take off the mask, and reveal art's lips, sculpted nose, blue and brown eyes, and tousled blonde hair.

suddenly you realize. you realize the reasons for the missed calls, hurried kisses, and rain-checked dates. all this time you've been thinking that it was tennis kicking his ass, when really art was kicking other people's.

"hi honey" art mumbles, same lopsided, boyish smile that you fell in love with gracing his face "i'm sorry. i should have told you." before you can say anything, he kisses you and sneaks his hands to the small of your back. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as he pulls you into his lap.

"i missed you" you say, pulling away with a pout. you card your hands through his blonde curls. "i know, i know, i'm sorry pretty girl, it's just that...i don't want you to worry about me." art replies, pushing your hair away from your face.

you flick his forehead. "you dumbass. of course i'm going to worry about you, whether you like it or not...because i like you. a lot. no matter what kind of freaky superpowers you have." art lets out a weak chuckle, then he kisses you like a man stuck in the desert for 40 days. you can feel him drawing small circles along your hips and caressing your thumb.

you pull away one last time. "now tell me spiderboy...how did you go from tennis team captain to stanford superhero?"